#feel free to request for any of them at any time!

[juniperskye]

You’re…intimidating.

Based on the following ask: For Hotch x reader, could I please request charming witty reader who Hotch has an obvioussss crush on and he's trying to flirt but he's out of practice and she's pretty extroverted, confident so she just doesn't register he's interested and he's getting grief from the team for being all puppy dog eyes at her? Pref non-BAU reader but maybe she works in a different FBI dept or she's a lawyer/consultant they work with often and Hotch is always the first to suggest working with her so he's not being subtle in wanting to spend time with her lol. Feel free to adapt!! Thanks!! ❤️Okay pookie!!! I’ve been thinking about this one and it might end up pretty self-indulgent and for that I am sorry – girlie works for cybercrimes (but transfers to the BAU – sorry it felt right) and she’s the best of the best like Penelope worships her…she’s a little alternative so Hotch admires her from afar because she’s not his usual type just PURE FLUFF

Aaron Hotchner x FBI! Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 2674

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Aaron is 45), some explicit language, not an OC but reader is described to have some tattoos and piercings (nothing specific though), reader works for cybercrimes and is SUPER tech savvy, idiots in love, Hotch pining hard, tooth rotting fluff, canon typical violence, mentions of hacking and breaking laws, reader is an extroverted introvert, Reader is called “Agent Z” or “Z” because she is a gen z, let me know if I missed any

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Hotchner, this is the third time this month you’ve requested her. I’m beginning to think we should be offering her a spot in the BAU.” Director Cruz teased.

“If she’d be willing, I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.” Hotch shrugged.

“I’ll put in the consultation request and maybe I’ll bring up the idea of a transfer to her.”

Hotch stood and returned to the sixth floor, promptly running into Penelope, as she was making her way back to the Batcave.

“So, I heard I might be getting some assistance on our next case! You know if you keep inviting Agent Z to join us, I’m going to get used to having her around.”

“Would that be so bad?” Hotch asked.

“No, it definitely wouldn’t…unless she stops coming around.” Penelope retorted.

The look on Hotch’s face gave him away, there was a brief flash of disappointment at the suggestion of you not coming around anymore. He couldn’t bear the thought…which made him even more nervous than you did. Speaking of…

“Hey Hotch!” You called effectively startling him.

“Hello! I uh – I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“Ah well, Cruz emailed the request over and I got the notification, so I figured there was no time to waste.” You shrugged.

“Well, we might as well debrief the team then.” Aaron offered, gesturing toward the conference room.

--

Here’s the deal, Aaron had feelings for you, you had captivated him the first time he saw you. It was a Tuesday in July, the weather had been unforgiving…hot and humid, not ideal for the business attire of FBI agents.

As he made his way into the building, he’d taken note of how nearly everyone had their suit jackets or blazers slung over their arms, their sleeves rolled up as they hurried into the air-conditioned building.

But then there was you. You were wearing these chunky black loafers and black trousers, your top had been a simple black tank, it was hugging your skin in a way that made Aaron’s mouth go dry. You had a checkered cardigan tossed over your forearm that you had clearly removed. It allowed Aaron a view of the tattoos that adorned your arms.

He couldn’t explain the pull he felt…you had been so different from any woman he’d ever had any interest in before, but maybe that’s why things never worked out with them. Maybe the others were too stiff, too proper. Maybe he needed a little chaos in his life.

--

During the debriefing, Aaron had made sure you were sat next to him. He let Penelope present the case as usual and allowed time for theories. While Derek and Emily were talking back and forth about the possible age and gender of the unsub, Aaron’s eyes were trained on you. He could see your mind running a mile a minute.

“What is it?” Aaron asked, tapping your arm gently.

“Oh, no. I was just thinking. There’s something about the photo’s that were left at the crime scene…it feels familiar.” You shrugged.

“Have you seen another case like this?”

“I think so…” You pulled open your laptop and began searching through old case files and evidence you’d logged over the years. “Here! Hotch, look at this!”

Aaron leaned over, leaving hardly any space between the two of you. His gaze shifted from your profile to your computer screen, taking in the images before him. On your screen were photos that were nearly identical to those in the file the team had just reviewed.

It seemed as though this unsub took photos to document their work. Leaving some behind at the crime scenes, taunting law enforcement.

“We didn’t have very many leads back when this came across my desk, but I have new programs I can use to run these photos through now and with Penelope’s help, I think we could finally get this guy.” You explained.

“Alright, why don’t you travel with us so you can access the physicals of the photos.” Aaron suggested.

“Okay!”

“Alright then, wheels up in thirty.” Aaron commanded.

--

“Hey Agent Z! You joining us again?” Derek nudged you gently.

“Not this time, I was just asked to come and consult on a case.” You replied.

 “Oh, I see. Bossman calling in his favorite once again.”

“Stop! It’s not like that Derek.”

“Girl…you and I both know that it is.” Derek laughed and walked off.

You made your way to Aaron’s office, knocking on the door. When he calls out for you to enter, you go straight for the chair in front of his desk, plopping into it with a huff.

“You alright?” Aaron asks, concern lacing his tone. “We could do this later if you’re not up for it.”

“No! I’m happy to help! I’ve just got a decision to make, and I don’t know what to do.” You sighed. “Let’s talk about this case!”

Aaron and you went through the case that had been sent in from the NYPD. You were confused as to why he’d called you in to consult, the case had seemed pretty cut and dry…something Aaron would typically delegate to Derek or Dave. The tech aspect to this case was so minute, it was common sense…but you didn’t want to call him out on it.

--

“Thanks again for your help, hopefully the NYPD can close that case pretty quickly now.” Aaron walked you over toward the elevators.

“Any time. I like working with you and the BAU.” You smiled cheerfully.

“So um, what was that decision you have to make?” He inquired.

“Oh, uh…well, Cruz asked me if I wanted to transfer from Cybercrimes over to the BAU actually.”

“That’s great! I mean – I uh. Do you think you’ll do it?”

“I’m thinking about it for sure! It’s just, I’ve been with Cybercrimes for so long, I’d feel bad leaving them…ya know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You said your goodbyes and you headed back to your office on the eighth floor. Aaron stood there for a bit, looking after you as you made your exit. He stood there a beat longer before turning and heading back to his office. Only he didn’t get that far. Upon walking through the glass doors, he was met with the whole team standing there waiting for him.

“You’re down bad Hotch.” Emily said.

“Yeah, that was almost painful to watch.” JJ agreed.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Hotch shook his head and made his way back to his office.

--

Agreeing with the director to have you transferred was, quite possibly, the dumbest decision that Aaron could have ever made. He already struggled just being near you when you’d come and assist, but the thought of having you around all the time…what was he meant to do?

Subject: Agent Transfer – Effective immediately Good afternoon, This email is being sent to inform both the CCU and BAU of the immediate transfer of Agent Z. In discussing this transfer, she assured me that should the CCU need her assistance in a case, she’d happily help. She does, however, know that the agents on the team are more than capable of handling things. As for the BAU, given her expertise and background, she will travel with you as needed. I just want to remind you that Agent Z has a background in hacking, computer forensics, criminal justice, psychology, behavior analysis, amongst others. Utilize her skills – I believe she will make an incredible contribution to the BAU. Hotchner – her file was delivered to your office this morning. Also, she needs firearms training, please ensure she completes this before travelling with the team. Let me know if you have any questions. Mateo Cruz - Section Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit

Aaron read the email four times. You would be starting with the team today…he needs to get you scheduled for your firearms training and qualification exam. He figured he could do that while you get settled in the office adjacent to Penelope’s.

--

“Hey Hotch.” Your fingers rapped against the doorframe.

“Hi-Hello. Can I uh, show you to your office?” He asked.

“Penelope already beat you to it.” You teased. “But if you want to help me bring the last of my boxes down, that would be awesome.”

“Oh, I um-I…can-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to! You’re a busy man, and I can ask Spence or Derek!”

“No, I’d love to help.” Aaron recovered.

“Okay.” You smiled.

Aaron led the two of you over to the elevator, allowing you to enter first, then following suit and pressing the button for the eighth floor. It slowly lifted before signaling your arrival on the CCU floor.

You guided Aaron to your old office where the last two boxes remained. There was an IT guy loading your monitors onto a cart, getting ready to move them for you. You looked around at the now empty space…it felt empty now, like it no longer belonged to you, and you supposed it didn’t anymore. Aaron couldn’t help but notice the slight sadness that took over your features.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay. It’s just odd, having had this office for the last four years, and now it’s empty…it’s not mine anymore.” Your gaze shifted downward. “It feels like the end of a chapter. While the feeling isn’t bad, because I’m really excited to be joining the BAU, it just feels kind of sad.”

“I know what you mean. I felt that same way when I left the law firm I worked at.” Aaron looked over at you.

You met his gaze, and he offered a small smile. You returned it, feeling this sense of comfort. He’d always brought up that feeling in you though. It was like this glowing warmth that spread its way through your entire being…but that flame only burned in you when he was around.

--

“And hold it just like that, good!” Aaron praised.

You fired three consecutive shots at the target, forming a neat cluster in the outlines chest. Pride bloomed in Aaron’s chest, and you squealed with excitement, throwing your arms around him!

“Thank you so much for helping me! There was no way I was going to pass this exam without you!”

“I’m not sure how you’ve been with the bureau this long and not had to get your firearm qualification.” Aaron shook his head with a laugh.

“Hey! I have been confined to the eighth floor for the last five-ish years, I haven’t needed to carry one.”

Aaron took note of the freckles that dusted your nose, and the way the light reflected in your eyes. He thought for a moment about how close you were, and how easy it would be to just lean in the last few inches and capture your lips in a kiss. But he had to shake the thought away.

--

“I PASSED!” You shouted, running your way through the BAU bullpen.

“Good lord, what are you yelling about?” Dave asked, coming out of his office.

“I PASSED! I PASSED!” You waved your firearms certificate in the air, making your way over to Aaron’s office.

He exited his office to see what the commotion was all about, seeing you shaking your hand, waving a piece of paper around like a mad woman. He was mesmerized by you. You were 100% yourself and he admired you for it, you weren’t worried about how others perceived you. You only worried about your own opinion; you wanted to be the best version of yourself always.

“HOTCHHH, I PASSED!” You ran over to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck.

Aaron held you tight, lifting you off the ground for just a moment before noticing the look on Dave’s face. He placed you down and quietly congratulated you. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at getting caught by Dave. He knew that he had done nothing wrong…but he also knew that Dave could read him better than anyone else.

--

“Okay, when are you going to ask that girl out?” Dave huffed, sitting in the chair across from Aaron.

“Dave.” Aaron scolded. “It’s inappropriate.”

“Aaron…you deserve it. Happiness I mean. So, are you going to let it pass you by or are you going to seize the moment?”

“Sir, I don’t mean to interrupt, but we have a case.” Penelope informed. “It’s a child abduction.”

“Let everyone know we’re leaving now – we will brief on the plane.” Aaron commanded.

“Is Z going with you?” Penelope asked.

“Yes!” Dave answered for Aaron.

--

Aaron always sat next to you on the plane. It had been purely accidental, you’d sat in his usual seat and though Aaron wouldn’t say anything, Spencer did. So, you moved over into the adjacent window seat and Aaron slid in next to you. Since then, you’d always sat there.

Like now for example, the BAU was headed home after a two-week long case. The unsub had been way too good at covering his tracks, he’d had the entire team stumped. Thankfully you’d found his slipup in a dark web chatroom. He’d posted video of him torturing his latest victim in a chatroom used by very sick people. It was flagged once you’d turned on notifications for keywords and certain video content. After receiving the notification, Penelope and you were able to track an IP address and narrow down the location.

It had been exhausting honestly, running around, back and forth, interviewing people, going through evidence, just going until you found this guy…and now that was finally catching up to you. Your head had been bobbing off to the side as you fought the throws of sleep. As you began dozing off once more, Aaron reached over and led your head to rest on his shoulder. You finally settled and snuggled a bit further into his side, and for once he leaned back and let himself rest on the flight home.

Emily pointed JJ and Derek’s attention over to the two of you and then giggled. Derek quickly snapped a picture and sent it in their group chat. Penelope was quick to reply with the happy tears emojis and saying “finally”.

--

Things had shifted slightly after that. And while the team still teased Aaron about his very obvious crush on you, he finally allowed himself to be more confident in his interactions with you. He realized that Dave was right…maybe he did deserve happiness.

He’d invited you to get lunch with him a few times during work and he’d brought you coffee. He thought he was making his affection for you more obvious…but you still didn’t budge. He was beginning to worry that you didn't feel the same.

But it all came to a head when he decided he needed to be direct. Not on his own…Emily and JJ had to confront him and then convince him that you did like him, you just didn’t think he liked you.

--

You walked into the elevator, just about to click the button to the sixth floor when an arm reached in to stop the door from closing.

“Oh! Good morning Hotch.” You greeted. “Sorry, if I had seen you coming I’d have held the door.”

“No worries.” He forgave. “Do you um – do you have any plans tonight?”

“No, I was thinking of ordering a pizza and watching an episode of The Great British Bake Off. What about you?”

You’re reply had been so innocent and sweet. Just a simple response to his question, not reading into what he was truly asking you.

“Sweetheart, though your plans sound wonderful…will you go to dinner with me tonight?” He asked.

Your jaw dropped, only for a moment as you worked to regain your composure. Had you really been that blind? The girls had told you time and time again that he was interested, and you’d brushed it off, not wanting to get your hopes up…but here he is now, asking you out.

“I would love to.” You smiled.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[ofbatsandballads]

Yay! I’m so glad you take requests. Feel free to decide if you want to write this or not, it’s fine either way :)

So, I was thinking about Jason dating civilian!reader, and her coming home all disheveled and horrified. Since she knows about him being Red Hood, she can confide in him. She had just killed someone for the first time, whether it was an accident, self defense or whatever, you decide.

I was just wondering how Jason would handle this situation since usually he’s the one doing the killing.

Thank you <3

oh, this is amazing food for thought. I actually think he’d be the very best person to come to in such a situation because he has experience with killing. who’s gonna understand you better than him? literally nobody. had something similar to this in my drafts but now my mind is whirling in a whole host of directions. excellent prompt, nonnie!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include graphic depictions of violence and killing (in self defense), attempted and failed sexual assault, the aftermath of both events (reader’s in shock), hurt/comfort. this one’s got heavier subject matter so please do mind the warnings, folks. i did way too much research of the Gotham Knights map for this, but it’s my favorite depiction of the city so so be it. also reader and Jason live in the Belfry bc i said so (personal hc that i may or may not elaborate on some time). and one last thing! the romanized Arabic at the end is “حياتي ” which translates to “my life”. I love the idea that Jason picked up Arabic terms of endearment from Talia calling Bruce just about every one she could.

Jason wakes up to soft afternoon sunlight shining on his face. He grumbles out a gravelly hum and scrunches up his face in protest against being awakened when he was sleeping so nicely. He reaches out to find the comforting warmth of his beloved beside him, to pull you in and bury his face into your hair so he can hide from the morning for a bit longer.

All he finds are cold sheets and an empty pillow.

He bolts upright. Something’s wrong. You never, never wake up before him. He doesn’t even register the way that the sudden abundance of light stings his eyes. He takes stock of his surroundings, his training executing on autopilot. The open layout of the Belfry lets him get his bearings in seconds. He doesn’t see you anywhere from the bird’s eye view of your loft bedroom. There’s no smell of food in the kitchen nor any mess that would indicate you’d been working in there. The living room space, fully visible below, is empty too. The only enclosed space in your home, the bathroom that’s just around the corner from your bedroom, is dead quiet. No running water, no sweet singing, no familiar coughing from swallowed toothpaste. And without so much as leaving your bed, Jason’s already come to a conclusion that sends his heart pounding and dries his throat. You’re not here.

He’s up and grabbing the 9mm taped under your bedside table in the span of a few breaths. He moves through your home methodically, like he’s clearing one of Gotham’s criminal hideouts. There’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing’s been disturbed. He’s not surprised by this—barring Wayne Manor, the Belfry is the most secure building in Gotham. That’s precisely why Jason had moved you both here once you decided to live together. He checks the coffee table and sees that your phone and wallet are gone. A different type of fear takes over now. One that makes his heart ache. What if you’ve finally had enough, finally seen that he’s not good enough for you, not worth sticking around for? It makes him sick. He swallows hard and tries to clear the blistering thought from his head. No, that’s not you. You’re not cruel. You’re kind and gentle and loving. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. And you wouldn’t hurt him.

The sight of gears turning in his periphery catches his attention. He sees the cables pulling and the security panel go green, and he’s running to the elevator doors damn near ready to pry them open. He hastily tucks the 9mm into the waistband of his pajama pants, easily within reach if he needs it. Relief floods him when the huge metal doors grind open and he sees your pretty face on the other side. Then his heart drops when he realizes that that pretty face is scraped and splattered with blood.

Your hair is tangled and wet, dripping dirty water down your neck and staining the bright red of his your favorite hoodie. Your hands, which shake as they reach blindly towards him, are stained crimson and battered too. But it’s your eyes that haunt him. You look broken.

“Jay,” you croak out, unable to summon anything but a plea for the one person who can keep you safe.

The tears fall from your eyes at the same time that you collapse into Jason’s arms. He drags you inside and locks down the Belfry. Jason wants to panic but feels a strange sense of calm about himself. As loathe as he’d be to admit it, he finds himself falling into Bruce’s habit of assessment and action.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, voice steady and assured.

You don’t even hear him. You’re digging your hands into his shirt, clinging on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. He may very well be. He feels you going rigid and cold and he knows he has to get you stable before you descend further into shock.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, adding on and enunciating your name for emphasis.

That sparks some semblance of lucidity. Jason hasn’t called you by your name in months, much preferring you be his baby or his sweetheart or his doll, or simply his. If it jars you back to reality, so be it.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” he demands gently.

It all pours out of you like a flood.

You’d woken up early by chance this afternoon. Normally you’d just close your eyes and snuggle closer to Jason to catch a couple more hours of sleep, but you wanted to do something nice for him. So you’d gotten up and gone to Lemay’s Flower Emporium in Gotham Heights. You’d bought him the prettiest bouquet of red and pink roses, so big that you had to hold on to it with both arms. The taxi ride from the Heights back to Coventry Station went fine. You were almost home. So close that you could see the clock tower where your heart was sleeping peacefully.

Then you stopped at Commerce Avenue Station. You just wanted to get him some pastries from the little bakery tucked away on 3rd Street that you both love. It was a decent walk; you knew that. You also knew that Jason wouldn’t want you to go out of your way by yourself. But it was morning and you were a grown woman and you could handle yourself, right? Well, that’s what you thought until a pair of hands clamped down on your shoulders and yanked you violently into a side alley.

Jason had prepared you for something like this. You’d spent countless evenings with him teaching you self defense techniques in the training area of your home. None of it mattered because the man that had you by the shoulders slammed you so hard into the brick wall that all your thoughts went hazy. Before you could regain your footing, you were shoved to the ground. The bitter sting of your palms scraping open pierced through the fog, as did the crushing weight of the vile man on top of you. Fear shot through you as the man started tugging at his belt and you realized that this wasn’t intended to be a mugging. You tried to scream but a grimy hand clamped over your mouth, hitting your head against the ground and soaking your hair in dirty rain water and blood.

Your eyes darted around in search of someone—anyone. But no one was coming. You felt fingernails scratch against your stomach as clammy hands curled into the waistband of your sweatpants and suddenly you saw your savior. A brick from the damaged alleyway laid within reach. You didn’t even think when you grabbed it, when you swung it as hard as you could into the side of the man’s head. The corner hit his temple and he crumbled to the side. You rose to your knees and hit the man again. And again. All you could remember were Jason’s firm instructions: if someone makes it a choice of you or them, you make sure that it’s you no matter what it takes.

“I don’t r-remember anything else,” you sob into his chest. “There was so much blood, Jason. And his head—oh, God.”

Jason shushes you gently. He holds you tight in his arms like he’s terrified that if he loosens his grip even slightly, you’ll fade away on him.

“Don’t think about it, baby. You did what you needed to do. You protected yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

“I killed someone, Jason. I killed someone.”

You look at him wide eyed—afraid, horrified, guilty. No. Jason won’t have that. You will not feel guilty over some lowlife scumbag who wanted to hurt you, who probably would have killed you. Jason can’t even stomach the thought. He wants to put a bullet into whatever’s left of that predator’s head. No, the only shame in you killing that man is that you got to him before Jason could.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says, repeats your name again for emphasis. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“Someone’s dead because of me, Jay,” you argue, gripping him tighter as your panic rises.

“Baby, do you know how many people are dead because of me?” he asks. “Far, far more than I’d ever want you to know. Do you think I’m a monster, honey? That I did something wrong?”

He knows it’s an apples to oranges comparison. But you’ve used this same tactic on him so many times that he also knows it’s effective. Every time he demeans himself for something, you ask if he’d treat you the way he treats himself for the same thing. The answer is always no.

“No!” you reply emphatically. “You protect people. You do it to keep people safe.”

“You did it to keep yourself safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. Or ifs. No ands, either, just in case you get any ideas,” he says lightly, brushing a speck of blood off your cheekbone.

You smile at his stupid little comment and he feels the tension in his body release just slightly. As long as there’s light back in your eyes for even a moment, he knows that you’ll be okay. He picks you up, lets you cling your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest as he carries you to the bathroom upstairs. He runs you a bath and, after asking repeatedly if you were okay with it, undresses you and washes the blood and grime from your body. He wraps you in a big fluffy towel, dries and brushes your hair, and tends to your injuries before he bundles you up in his comfiest hoodie and pajama pants. He soothes you when your tears make their return and never leaves your line of sight because he knows he makes you feel safe.

The thought gnaws at him throughout the day. It outright scalds him as he lies in bed with you after deciding to skip patrol. He’s failed you. Failed to protect you, failed to ensure nothing harms a hair on your head. He’s failed at taking care of you, the one thing that matters more to him than anything else. He’s seconds away from spiraling into self hatred when your sweet voice comes calling, soft and pleading.

“Jay…please stay with me,” you say softly.

Your eyes are clear and focused again. You squeeze his waist tight where your arms are wrapped around him, like you’re physically trying to anchor him in place in your bed. The look on your face says that you know exactly where his mind was headed. You see right through him. It makes him feel more vulnerable than anything else, and it surprises him how much he loves the feeling. And Jason, as always and for eternity, can’t bring himself to deny you. So he pulls himself together and shoves all his self loathing down. He can deal with it later—you need him more right now.

“I’m right here, hayati. Not goin’ anywhere, I promise.”

He kisses you gently and feels some of that self hatred wash away when you chase after him for more goodnight kisses. He feels it dissipate even more when you fall asleep in his arms with a soft smile on your face. It’s all but forgotten as he drifts off too, safe in the knowledge that you’re here with him, that he can feel your heart beating pressed tight against his own.

[kabr0ztrousers]

What about a fem waitress/teacher/nurse/other service centered job that is being haunted by a horny exhibitionist ghost that will only touch them in public.

Bonus points if reader gets lured (either fed up with the torment or too cockdrunk to care) into releasing all of the ghost's friends for a ghost orgy

Kabr0z Writes Episode 39: Haunting

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: ghosts; public use; noncon; free use; creampie; group sex; possession; pregnancy mention

A/N: Back to requests today, and back to ghosts too, which I'm sure is welcome news to some of you

As always, if you have any requests for any situations, kinks, or revisits then please drop me a DM asking for what you want and I'll most likely write it sooner or later

###############################

The café was always a little haunted, the odd thing moving here or there, the occasional flickering of the lights, unexplained cold spots, nothing major. That was, of course, until Othello turned up.

You weren't sure what was happening at first, it was a normal shift waiting tables, taking orders, business as usual. You bent over to clean a table when a hand cupped your ass. When you turned to confront whoever touched you, nobody was there. You shrugged and carried on working, maybe you imagined it? A couple of hours later you were working the cash register and felt something squeezing your tits, pinching the nipples through your bra. That's when you realised this was probably a ghost.

You shook yourself. Whoever it is, they're probably not going to be around long, and it's hardly the first time someone's been a bit handsy with you. You do work hospitality after all.

You ran off a little of the receipt paper and jotted down your question: "Who are you?"

Setting the pen and paper aside, you got back to it. You even got a few minutes of reprieve as well before spectral hands started stroking your waist, one unclasping your bra as you walked back behind the counter. In a neat copperplate hand, the spirit had answered your question. Its name was Othello.

There wasn't time to dwell on it, the lunchtime rush was about to start.

Your first couple of tables were fine. It's amazing how quickly you adapt to the roving hands of the unqiet dead when you have to. The next one was a little trickier.

The hands started off squeezing your ass, but one slid around your front and pressed up against your pussy. You felt your skin redden as you started to trip over your words. The men on the table looked quizzically at you, but didn't say anything. The other hand started feeling your cunt too, spectral fingers parting the lips of your pussy as more lazily toyed with your clit. You dropped your pen, crouching to pick it up. Your reward was for two fingers to push inside, immediately aiming for your g-spot as the the ghost continued to abuse your clit.

You bit your tongue to stifle a yelp, only half-succeeding. The men were definitely staring at you now as you half-waddled away from their table, conscious of the arousal dripping from you, soaking your underwear and running down your leg.

You scribbled another message "knock it off, asshole" putting down the paper and walking away.

The fingers came back almost immediately. You felt a hand trace two letters on your back. "No"

The rest of the rush was a stagger, taking every measure of your composure not to give in to the insistent hands rubbing your cunt, pushing fingers into you, toying constantly with your clit. You lasted most of the way through, only one table left before you could lock the door, take a break and recover yourself. A couple of men who work in a nearby office block, one blonde, one dark haired.

You took their order, face burning up and voice quivering. You could hear a wet stirring sound coming from your cunt and smell yourself, the way they were looking at you made you think they could too. Pushing the thought to the back of your mind, you turned to ring up their order. Othello tripped you, sending you sprawling. Your concentration lapsed a moment, letting a moan escape your lips and your back arch, showing your soaked panties to the two men.

You heard them get up before you scurried away into a back room, locking the door behind you. A semi-transparent figure hung there, glowing softly in the dark room.

"What's the big idea?" You spat at the ghost "Who knows what they would've done?"

"I wanted to get you alone" His voice sounded like he was at the bottom of a deep, dry well "Look in the box"

You looked where he was pointing, the lost and found box. On the top, nested on a hoodie someone had left a month ago, was a heart-shaped silver locket. You picked it up, the smooth metal much colder on your skin than it should be

"Open it" Othello's excited voice called to you from just over your shoulder

You unfastened the clasp, the locket fell open. A faintly-glowing cloud poured from it, flowing into Othello and forming two more spectres beside him. All three of them were much more visible now: three men, each around six feet tall. One reached out and opened the door behind you as another pushed you out. The light of the café made them hard to see, but their hands were solid as they manhandled you to a table. The office workers stared at you as the ghosts bent you over the table, pulling your soaked underwear to one side and hiking up your skirt.

The first ghost lined himself up with your cunt and forced his cock inside. Their laughter filled the room as he mercilessly pounded you, each thrust forcing a yelp out of you.

You could hear the other men walking over, moving slowly as the ghost fucked you, clearly not sure what they were seeing. They stood behind you, watching as the first ghost reached his orgasm, pumping his load into you before stepping aside for the next.

The second ghost wasn't any gentler, forcing himself into you using the first one's cum as lube, pressing his fingers into your clit and rubbing you to an orgasm around him as he buried himself in you. The office workers walked around the table to where your head lay, the edge rubbing on your cheek bone.

They got their cocks out and forced your mouth open, taking turns fucking your face and groping the sides of your tits as the ghosts held you down. The second ghost finished in you and the third took his place as the two men kept your mouth busy. This ghost took his time, running his hands over your waist and your hips, feeling every inch of your skin as he rutted into you. The office workers were getting close, you could taste the precum flowing out of them as they alternated thrusting down your throat. The dark haired one held you down. You gagged as he filled your mouth with cum, thrusting down into you for good measure, despite already being balls-deep. You gasped for breath when he pulled out, only for the blonde one to do the same, roughly fucking your throat until he pulled out and painted your face with it, slathering you with a mix of spit and semen. They put themselves away and left before the ghost and finished, making sure to be gone before you could get up.

You felt the ghost start throbbing inside you, pulsing his cum into your punished womb, mingling with his friends.

They left you on the table when they'd finished. Your legs shaking, tears and cum in your eyes. Othello pulled you up from the table, holding you from behind as another placed the locket around your neck.

You felt as though you were watching a film. You could still see everything, hear, touch, taste, but your movements weren't yours any more. You watched as you removed the stained and sodden knickers from between your legs. Your body moved unbidden, leaving the café and locking the door behind you. Your lungs filled with the outside air as you watched yourself walk down the street

"Don't worry" Othello's voice sounded in your head "We'll give your body back, just maybe a little more pregnant"

#######################################

A/N: Not sure how well this one turned out, but there's certainly room to expand this if needed.

Once again, any requests will probably be written, so if you want something: drop me an ask or a DM and I'll do what I can!

[sammyluvr]

✶ safe now — sam & dean w.

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, reader is the youngest sibling, blood, injury & pain, implied torture, nicknames (bud), poorly edited, no y/n, 1.4K words. requested !

summary : your brothers rescue you after you're kidnapped and tortured by demons.

there’s a moment where everything is quiet. maybe it’s minutes. hours, perhaps. you don’t really know, because nothing makes sense anymore. up and down don’t mean much to you. and you can’t tell if everything hurts, if it burns, or if you can’t feel anything at all.

then, it’s not quiet anymore. it’s loud, and yet, it’s muffled. you can’t distinguish one sound from another. a crash and a yell, maybe even a scream. more crashing, but it all sort of sounds the same, so you’re not the most reliable narrator.

but there’s something familiar in it all. the clamor, the fighting, you think it must be. the shout of a word that you know to be your own somehow, and the blurred shape in front of your barely open eyes. it’s your name, you realize. the shouted sound was your name, far away. it’s not far away anymore, murmured and panicked, and the face in front of you, going in and out of focus, is sam’s.

oh, sam. you hope it’s really him. that means this is all over.

and then you decide that you can feel and everything does hurt, because there are hands wrapping around you from behind. they frighten and confuse you at first, but before you can thrash away or cry for sam to help, dean’s voice is in your ears and you don’t fight it.

“i got you,” he says simply, soothing you without any effort at all. he’s holding you up so you don’t fall once sam unties you from where you’re strung up by the wrists, like the carcass of a slaughtered farm animal. you try not to whimper. it would embarrass you. it’s hard, though, because his strong hold is aggravating the cuts and bruises that litter your bore torso. you wonder if his hands are warm or cold, but you can’t really tell despite the fact that your skin there is exposed. you were stripped of your shirt, you think.

sam’s talking too, voice so gentle that the sound of it is the most calming part. you’re sure he’s saying comforting words, but it’s hard to focus on more than one thing at a time. his hands work quickly to free you, and then you’re slumped back against dean’s chest. your legs aren’t working all that well right now.

dean’s hold is awkward and you can sag forward, right into sam. dean lets him take you, his hands itching for his weapon. there could be more demons and he’s got to protect you. he’s the one with the demon knife.

you can imagine the dead bodies in the hallway, the vessels of all the demons who were guarding the place. but you don’t see them, your eyes having drifted closed and your head tucked away into sam’s neck. dean must be leading the way, ready to kill for you as many times as he must today, and forever.

but all the demons have been disposed of. no one gets in the way, and they carry you right out to the car. sam helps you into the back seat with him and it hurts like hell to move at all, but the smell of leather puts you at ease, finally. you’re still so out of it, oblivious to sam’s face that doesn’t bother to hide the worry and the pain of seeing you like this. you’re oblivious to the fact that dean can barely look at you, horrified by the thought that he could’ve prevented this, maybe. it wasn’t his fault that you were snatched away in the night, but both brothers will blame themselves.

you were hungry, so dean left for food. and then, the motel room felt stuffy, so you went to take a walk just around the parking lot. sam didn’t get into the shower like he planned to, waiting at the creaky table for you to come back. and when you were gone for more than five minutes—sam knew you’d get cold quickly because you ignored his advice to grab a jacket—he went out to look for you. you were gone, so he called dean, searched for you. dean got back and yelled at sam. how could you leave them alone? dean was asking himself the same question.

“hey, look at me,” sam says, voice pleading. you aren’t very responsive, and it terrifies him. the car is already moving, you realize. your eyes find his and you feel his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling your arm through the sleeve of his jacket. everything hurts so much that you never realized that you’re cold. where there isn’t blood, sam can see goosebumps. he’s gentle as he pulls the fabric around you, trying to keep you warm without hurting you any further. “there you are,” he murmurs.

“you’re fine, bud,” dean says from the front seat, voice tense as he splits his attention between the road and checking on you through the rearview mirror. when he can’t look, he’s listening. you let out a sound, meant to acknowledge them both. your awareness sharpens, and so does your pain.

“i’m fine,” you mumble back, voice flat and quiet. even sam can barely hear it, but dean catches the words too. “it’s all fine. i– i didn’t say anything. i didn’t say anything.” dean glances back, and sam looks at you in confusion.

“you didn’t say anything?” he repeats softly, trying to understand what you mean.

you give a jerky nod of your head. then you shake it the other way. “didn’t say anything,” you say again, “about the tablet. they wanted to know, but i didn’t say anything.” your voice is breathy and tired, and you’re mumbling so much that sam can barely make out what you’re saying. but he understands now, why you were taken. the tablet; you mean the demon tablet. the demons took you to get information on the demon tablet, thinking they could break the youngest winchester. 

of course, they couldn’t, but the thought boils his blood with fury. that anyone thinks they can use you for something like that. or that they think you’re a weak link, just because you’re the youngest. or maybe it was to cause the most chaos, the most panic. to mess with you is to raise hell. that’s what demons are for, of course, but they were stupid enough to think it wouldn’t just get them all killed.

“they took you for that?” dean growls, his voice dangerously vicious, “the fucking demon tablet?”

“the demon tablet,” you breathe out, your less bruised cheek finally falling to sam’s shoulder with exhaustion. he tucks you even closer into his side. “i didn’t say anything, though.”

“we know,” sam murmurs, wanting to ease your anxiety. his heart aches that you think the stupid tablet is the most imortant thing here. you’re bleeding all over his jacket and practically delirious from pain. you’re all that he and dean care about right now. “we know. we don’t have to worry about that now, okay?”

“mhmm,” you hum, “cuz they still don’t know where it is.” your voice is so hoarse. as if you’d been screaming. presumably, you had been, and that makes your brothers see red. dean’s grip on the wheel is knuckle-whitening, and sam is only able to be gentle for your sake. his shoulders hold all of the tension just like they hold up your trembling body. the car almost swerves before dean has to force his thoughts away from what you might’ve endured. he’s all too familiar with demon torture. he thinks about killing the demons who hurt you over again.

sam thinks about it too, but just for a moment. “yeah. and because you’re safe now,” he tells you firmly. 

“safe now,” you echo softly. everything hurts. the pain is bone-deep, but you believe him when he tells you that you’re safe now. “i knew you’d come get me,” you mutter, eyes never staying open for longer than a moment or two. you look as tired as you sound. maybe that’s what got you through it; the knowledge that it would be over, one way or another. either your brothers would come to rescue you and kill your captors, or you’d die first. they certainly would’ve still killed all those demons if that were to happen, and probably many, many more. but no one likes to think about that.

because you’re safe now.

[andcars]

[ 𝗘𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝗧𝗢𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 ] Mondays in Monaco

premise. prince of monaco is your boyfriend, congrats! however, trying to be his girlfriend is much more difficult than you expect. struggling what to wear, it's decidedly charles' job to make sure that you're perfect just the way you are.

tags #ㅤlight angst, insecurities, hurt/comfort, praise kink, cunnilingus, no specific use of body shaming but could be implied eitherway wc #ㅤ 1.7k

ㅤㅤFEEL FREE TO INBOX ME FOR THOUGHTS OR REQUESTS !

| MASTERLIST⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀MONDAYS IN MONACO

The silk slip dress pools on Charles’ bedroom floor. It's an image of wine red and you're tugging around the waist, seeing how it frames your waist and your thighs. The dress was bought long ago and you haven't even tried it once. Tonight could be the night—or not. 

You eye it critically, tilting your head. Too much? Not enough?  You picture the flashbulbs, the online articles dissecting every thread, every curve.  Monaco is a place without a single privacy. Before you can even leave his apartment, there would be three TikTok accounts on how a woman is seen leaving with Charles. It's going to be on the front page of everything. 

The Prince of Monaco with a commoner.

As the clock signals the next hour, you start to undress. The dress is laid onto the bed as you scour the closet for more clothes—and you never ran out of clothes. Charles has a separate closet just for you, and abundance of clothes you can barely wear. It's something for him than you, he said once. You believe that when there’s unfamiliar fabric inside, all of them were brought here without your knowledge.

A pair of tailored trousers and a cream blouse instead is worn. Then, you discard them just as quickly.  The trousers feel too business-like, the blouse too…plain. Tonight is a special appearance. Wearing pants makes it seem like you're just another woman in Charles’ life. Your head tries its best not to wander on those who came before you.

The glamour. The tanned skin. There’s the jewellery, elegant movements, and the kisses on the cheeks. Everything that you have yet to even give Charles.  You’re not used to this. lifestyle. He is.  He’s used to the red carpets, the flashing lights, the constant hum of attention.  You, on the other hand, feel a strange flutter in your chest, a mix of excitement and something akin to dread. It's the excitement of staking claim and the dread of public opinion.

You tug at the hem of a simple black dress, the one you always feel safe in.  It’s comfortable, and familiar.  But is it enough?  You want to look…effortless.  Like you belong by his side, like you're not trying too hard.  But the effort is monumental. You’ve already spent hours agonising over this, scrolling through endless images of his past lovers, trying to tell what made them look good.  It's not working. Your closet doesn't have any of their outfits, you don't know how they chose their palettes either.

“Fuck!” You sigh, the first words you've muttered since you've debated what to wear. You're at a loss with the straps of the dress loosely hanging around your shoulders. 

It's a knee-length dress, the skirt flowy and the waist tight. You can remember the first time you wore it with Charles—a cold night in Singapore as you watched his race from the hotel. You overlook his performance, always watching. It never mattered how he placed, he looked beautiful when he won and lost. When he came to your side, you were wearing the dress with a smile.

That was simple. There were no cameras inside of the hotel room (you wish so, anyway) and there were no expectations. Tonight, Charles has booked a restaurant for the two of you to have your public date in. For a year and a half, both of you have exchanged secret kisses in the dark. Your schedules almost never aligned and you were just another face who lived in Charles’ building. This was the night that changed. Your dress feels tighter than ever.

“Hey.”

Charles leans against the frame. With an easy grin, he's dressed in an all-white outfit. The style of it casual but with a formal feel with the turtleneck covering his neck. His watch adores his wrist paired with the bracelet you gave him—and your scrunchie. It's placed by his wrist. His heartbeat. Suddenly, you feel silly sitting there just in your underwear. The black dress was just recently taken off.

He approaches, “You can’t be going like this,” he says with a teasing tone, “I don't think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Very funny, Charles,” you reply. “I can't pick what to wear.”

Only then does Charles eye the abundance of clothes on the bed. “They all look great,” he says, sitting beside you “but if you do decide to go out naked, I'm afraid I'll have to just keep you here for myself.”

“Charles,” you didn't mean to bite, his expression falters because of it. “It's just… I don’t know. I just don't know what to fucking wear.”

Silence stirs a little. It sits at your heart and it's eating alive the perfectly nice dinner that both of you could be having right now. The guilt suddenly joins in. Before anything could linger more, Charles tucks a strand of hair behind your ears.

“I remember when we first met,” he mumbles, caressing your cheeks with his thumb, “you were very cute. Asking for my autograph for another fan. It made me think how nice you would be to rely on.

“And then you came back to my life, and again, and again, and again,” he laughs. Charles moves from his seat to go in front of you. Suddenly, he's kneeling in front of you with both your hands in his own. “I love you, I absolutely love you. I don't think that what you look like will change that.”

You know that. “I know that, Charles,” you hiss out, “but you're not the only one seeing me tonight.”

“And?” he laughs. “Baby, I don't care if they see me with a walking trash bag tonight. As long as you are that walking trash bag, then I don't care!”

You're not quite sure how that was supposed to help you. You tell him exactly that and he laughs at that too. “What I mean is,” he kisses your fingers, “I don't care what you look like. What the media sees you as. You are going to be my partner when we go outside and that's enough.”

Maybe it's not enough now. There's still the cold hugging your tired body. When he presses his lips on yours, you have nothing else but to think that this is enough.

Charles' lips move against yours, taking his time. There's the taste of affection, pride, and endearment. You can't imagine how else to interpret the feeling of his mouth on yours. It's like a part of yourself feels fulfilled. You're just hoping that Charles feels just the same as you. With his hands going down, tugging at your underwear, you think that he might be feeling just a little more.

He pulls away, you chase him instinctively. “So pretty,” he tells you, gesturing your hips up as he pulls your panties away. “You're so pretty. No one else can appreciate how beautiful you look just like this—suffocating with my kisses.”

“You're biased,” you gasp after your words, feeling him thumbing at your clit. 

“Am I?” he asks, smiling as he goes down. Fuck.

You feel Charles's strong, slightly calloused hands gripping your thighs, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he parts your legs wider. His breath is hot against your sensitive skin, making you shiver with anticipation. "This is all mine,” he sighs before placing his tongue along your slit in a long, slow lick. He savours your flavour, his eyes fluttering closed in bliss. 

A moan escapes you as you feel the wet warm tongue invade your insides. Your legs are pulled apart to give him the access he needs. Just like this, he's on his knees with his mouth worshipping you with more than words. His hands slide up to your ass, kneading the globes and pulling you tighter against his eager mouth. Charles's tongue delves deeper, probing your entrance and fucking into you with a fervour that takes your breath away. Each thrust of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

Charles slides a hand up your body to cup your breast, tweaking and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The sudden stimulation has your body jerking. He hums, the vibration sending up towards you. He mutters something unintelligent and you shiver. His tongue continues to explore your inside while his hand expertly works your breasts.

Your clit throbs in time with his licks. It's being rubbed against his nose as he tries to put his face deeper. Below you, the only thing you can hear is his panting and the sloppy noises his mouth makes as he kisses you open. It's dizzying. Your hips move in tandem as you start to chase an orgasm. Charles, knowing you, doesn't change his pace at all.

Two fingers plunge into your channel as his tongue moves in on your clit, suckling the sensitive bundle of nerves. The combined assault has your climax building rapidly, the coil of tension in your belly pulling tighter and tighter. You grind against him, chasing it with moans spilling your mouth uncontrollably. Your fingers tangle with his hair as you clench with your orgasm washing over you.

His fingers pump harder, faster, curling to rub against that secret spot deep inside you. Charles's tongue lashes your entrance, making sure to take all of your spend in his mouth. His pace slows down and you're left with the throbbing feeling of your pussy. The ghost feeling of his mouth on you sticks with arousal. Still, your legs feel too much like jelly to move.

Charles moves up, smiling with his lower face covered in your juices. You blush, “Jesus… your face.”

Your partner still looks like he's a cat who got the cream—horrible comparison, really. “I think I quite like it like this,” Charles pokes his tongue up, chasing the taste of you that's on the edge of his lips. He receives a kick to the chest for the tease. Laugh echoes through the room as the reservation has gone cold, come with it a pizza delivery enjoyed with some Netflix. Maybe this is enough for now.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @bicchaan @fallingforpvris @rtorresblog @Tribbisweetdear @Jamie2305 @yourmommyagone22 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

FOOTNOTE ────── some slightly more angsty charles fic !!! hope it's still nice because he does eat you out after. i don't need to remind all of ya'll that you all are perfect how you are 🥳 love urself first <3

[secretlysamcro]

Black female reader x Jax Teller SMUT, violence, explicit language & possible spoilers If you’re under the age of 18, haven’t finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: “Reader is the well liked bartender at the Sam crow clubhouse who has know Jax and the club since childhood. Jax and reader have essentially become friends with benefits though he secretly hold deeper feelings. Tara comes back to town causing Jax to start icing out reader and placing his focus on Tara. Because of this reader calls the arrangement off with Jax who acts like he doesn’t care at first , however once he sees the reader entertain other men, Jax becomes jealous and possessive and decides to profess his feelings to the reader who shares the same sentiments. This causes a fight that spins into smut 😈They have sex and she decides to be his old lady”

Backstory: y/n & Jax have known each other for years, growing closer in the past year though, since Tara left Charming. Being the favourite bartender in the SAMCRO clubhouse has a lot of benefits. Brothers who have your back, free booze and now, the possibility of being dicked down by the VP whenever the fuck you want. Both you and Jax have already broke the ‘no feelings, just sex’ rule but neither of you have said it out loud but now… you’re both gonna pay for it. Tara’s back on the scene again, and Jax not knowing where his loyalty lies, fucks up…big time.

The sons roll into the SAMCRO parking lot, their engines cutting out one by one. It had been a long run, miles of open road but their business was handled. With just enough tension left to make them want to get drunk.

Jax, the first off his bike, swings off rolling his neck as he leads the way inside. He already knew what the others didn’t, the usual pretty sight wouldn’t be behind the bar tonight.

Chibs stretches his arms over his head, cracking his back “Christ, I need a whiskey”

“Make it two” Tig says, rubbing a hand down his face as they follow Jax inside.

The usual noise was present in the clubhouse. Music playing low but just enough to hear, the usual crow eaters loitering around. The bar however, missing their favourite bartender. No familiar smile, no teasing remarks, no y/n.

Tig let’s out a groan “Where the hell is y/n” he questions.

Chibs looks around with his brows raised, before joining in on the protest. “Aye, place feels off when she’s not here”

Bobby already dropping into a chair, gives a lazy shrug “don’t think she’s working tonight”

“Since when does she ever take a day off” Juice pipes up, sounding personally offended.

“I heard cherry say last night before we left y/n wouldn’t be in” Bobby relays what he had heard.

Jax smirks to himself but stays quiet, heading straight over to the bar and grabbing a beer for himself. He pops the cap off with his teeth before taking a swig.

The clubhouse was alive with conversation and the clinking of glass as the guys settled in. Cherry moved behind the bar filling drinks and flashing flirty smiles, but it never felt the same when y/n was missing.

Jax, sat among them, unbothered as he nursed a beer with his free hand. Every so often, he pulled his phone out, his thumb hovering over the screen as he checks the time. He doesn’t say a word about what or who he was waiting for, and no one bothered to ask.

Across the room, Happy was in his usual spot, sprawled out in a chair with a crow eater draped over each side of him. He moves between them effortlessly, kissing one before turning to the other, his hands roaming over the both of them, not caring about the eyes on him.

Bobby scoffs, nudging Tig before nodding towards what he’s witnessing, “Look at that greedy bastard” he says, shaking his head.

Tig smirks, raising his glass “gotta respect it”.

A low rumble pulls into the lot catching their attention, it wasn’t a bike, but it was just as recognisable.

Jax exhales, knowing exactly who it is. Stretching his back before pushing off the bar. No urgency, no rush just a quiet decision as he turns to walk away, disappearing down the hall.

The others notice Jax slip away, but think nothing of it.

Juice, who was closest to the door, checks outside. “Well, well, well, look who decided to show up”

The second you stepped inside, the air around the room changed. The conversations didn’t stop, but they slowed as all eyes flickered towards you. Your skin, deep brown and glowing under the dim clubhouse light. Your lips full and glossed just enough to catch the reflection. And as always, your hair flawlessly laid in your signature style that never loses its charm. Everyone noticed you, no matter where you went. You were the kind of beautiful that made men reckless.

Tig grinned, tilting his head towards your every move “You know sweetheart, I’d get down on one knee for you”. You scan the room briefly, realising that Jax is missing. Probably already in the place you're headed.

You don't skip a beat as you shoot back at Tig, “Oh really? I heard you’d do the same for Mrs. Venus too” you throw him a quick wink, as you recall how much he had been bragging about her a few nights ago, Tig being a little too drunk to keep his mouth shut. Laughter erupted around the bar as Tig clutched his chest in pretend hurt.

“Brutal” Chibs muttered, shaking his head before downing his drink.

You give a casual wave to the others. They nod, grinning in response. But you don’t slow down or stop to entertain them. Your path is now clear, and its obvious to them where you’re going.

The guys exchange knowing glances, immediately understanding now why Jax had snuck out moments before you entered. They’d been aware of this little thing you two had going on for a while now. It wasn't unusual for the two of you to disappear together, only to return moments later, as if nothing had happened.

Chibs lets out a low whistle, realising the deal “That boys down bad”

Tig rests his head in his hands, sighing dramatically at being rejected by you once again. “Every damn time, man”

You round the corner, Jax leaning against the door with a beaming smile plastered on his face. “You took your time” he says, his voice smooth but teasing.

“Had to get Tiggy off my back” you laugh, playing along.

He lets out a soft, amused breath, stepping aside just enough to let you slide through the door. His body stays in place, but his head follows you, almost mesmerised. As you pass, the brush of your hand just below his belt sends a small jolt through him.

“You coming or what?” you question with anticipation.

he laughs aloud, “trust me, we both will” he responds, his words thick with promise. He's got a devilish grin on his face, as he pushes off the wall, pulling his jeans up a little tighter following you into the dorm, the door clicking behind him.

If only one of you had the guts to speak up first, to admit that this little thing between you went far deeper than just the sex.

A week and a few days had passed since the last time Jax was buried deep within you, the longest time you’d gone this year without having sex, and ever since, something had been off.

At first it was subtle and easy to brush off. But tonight? It’s impossible to ignore and you’re done entertaining his attitude. As usual, the clubhouse was busy, the usual mix of members, hangarounds and crow eaters filling the spaces. You were in your usual spot behind the bar, keeping the drinks full and entertaining the guys with your usual back and forth banter.

He’d been shut off since he walked in, cold and distant, not even a ‘hello’ you’d seen him in his moods before, but this was something different. He was shutting you out completely. So, you decided to return the favor.

“You want a drink? or you just gonna keep standin’ there with your face all screwed up like that?” You ask, one hand on your hip and the other on the pump.

He moves away from the counter as you approach, his jaw tightening. “Nah, I’m good” he barely looks at you.

You let out a sharp laugh “that’s what I thought” you retort, as you move away serving someone else at the opposite side of the bar. The guys pick up on the tension immediately.

“Damn” Tig whispers under his breath, amused at the drastic shift between the two of you. Chibs raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Jax walking away avoiding any possible questioning.

You weren't directly near them but you could still hear, so when Juice, drunk and loose lipped mumbled something about Tara being back in town and how her and Jax were ‘figuring things out’ the realisation hit you like a brick.

Thats why he’d been so reluctant to touch you, talk to you, or even look at you. Because of her. Because of Tara.

No, you and Jax weren't together, just friends who fucked on the regular. No strings, no feelings. That was the deal. A deal that you had both broken without saying a word.

For a year, it’s been only him, and only you. Nobody else in either of your beds. So finding out he’s there trying to fix things with the one who left him, when just days ago it was you he was fucking. Yeah, it fucking hurts.

You hadn’t spoken to Jax in a week, He barely came up to the bar anymore. When he was at the clubhouse, he stayed hidden in the dorm or locked away in church, anywhere but near you.

Its nearing the end of the night, and you’re ready to leave the bullshit and the mayhem behind. You grab your bag, throwing your things together as you make your move towards the door.

The boys are saying their goodbyes to you as Happy pulls you into one of those brotherly hugs. The kind that always made you feel like you had someone in your corner. “Take care kid” he says into your ear.

You cling on to him for a second longer than usual, needing the warmth and reassurance. He was the older brother you never had, the one who could always read you better than anyone else.

You give a quick wave to the others and head for the door, avoiding Jax at all costs. He was slouched at the back table, watching you with that unreadable look. The same one he’d been giving you for days now, ever since Tara had shown back up. Fuck him though, why should you let him treat you like this.

You slam your car door shut, the sound echoing through the silence. The engine hums as you rub a hand over your face, finally able to breathe. Finally able to feel the weight of everything crashing down. The anger, the hurt, its all there now about to spill over until a knock at the window stops you. The darkness makes the figure hard to recognise, but the flash of those familiar fucking rings, you knew exactly who it was.

Your fists tightens on the wheel as you press the button, the windows sliding down. And there he was, stood with one hand resting on the roof, looking at you as if nothing had changed.

“Not staying? he questions, with that familiar arrogance, as if he expected you to turn around and run back to him.

Your face twists into a snarl “What the fuck would I be stayin’ for?”.

He leans in closer, that pathetic look in his eyes, the one he wears when he knows he’s fucked up “Its been a minute” he taps his finger against the frame, like that was suppose to mean something to you.

You scoff at his audacity, shaking your head “Didn’t notice” you shoot back, your tone less than happy.

He takes a long sigh, “you want me to beg or something?” the defensiveness creeping in.

“Aww, you miss me now? Tara not fucking you like I do?” you respond, the fake sadness in your voice as you scrunch up your face, letting the words sink in.

He stiffens, his jaw clenching, suddenly having nothing to say.

“Yeah, your boy juice runs his mouth when he’s fucking drunk” you snap, chewing the inside of your cheek. “That’s why you been actin’ like that. Cuttin’ me off cause you’re back with her?” You look him in the eye now, your lashes fluttering towards him, waiting for an answer.

Jax exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, looking like he’s thinking of something to say. Anything to say, but he’s coming up blank. He can see how pissed you are now, the little signs that someone else might not clock onto, but he already has.

He sees the way you keep biting your cheek, the way the curses roll of your tongue like a second language and how your fingers won’t stop twisting the rings on your hand.

“It’s not like that” he finally mutters, but you cut him off before he can even bullshit you.

“Not like what Jax?” You spit out “Not like you’ve been fuckin’ me for a year, sleepin’ in my bed and now shes back, you’ve gone running? Did you forget she was the one that left you?” You sprinkle that little insult at the end, knowing it would hit him where it hurt.

He just stands there silently staring at you, no emotion on his face at all.

You already know the next thing he’s gonna say is gonna piss you off, and when he finally opens his mouth, it does exactly that. Because instead of admitting his feelings for you, he takes the easier route. The one where he’s an asshole.

“It’s not behind your back” he says, once again his voice cold and detached, like none of this fucking matters, like you don’t matter. “No feelings, That’s what we said right?” He’s staring through you, not at you.

“Just sex. That’s all it’s ever been” He tilts his head slightly, acting like he doesn’t care. His lips portraying the tiniest smirk.

Your jaw clenches so fucking tight it aches, but all you can do is laugh. Not because you find this funny but because you cannot believe the audacity of this fucking man.

Deep down, you know Jax feels something for you, but he’d rather choke on it than admit the truth.

“Cool” you mutter, your voice being the one that’s now cold. You lean in, close enough to catch the whiskey haunting his breath. “If you need your dick sucked that bad, call your lil girlfriend”.

He stares back at you, not saying a word. You hold his stare, if he was gonna stop being a pussy and fix this, it was going to be now.

But he doesn’t. He pulls out his phone, taps the screen, the silence so powerful, you even hear the dial tone.

He grins right in your face “Hey Tara, you free tonight?”

The composure that you had left, snaps. You throw your hand up, getting ready to slap the shit out of him, but Jax is too quick, he jerks his head back just in time, and instead of hitting his face your nails rake across his cheek, a sharp deep scratch that immediately starts bleeding. You watch as the fury settles in his eyes.

You stare at him, your heart pounding. But he doesn’t retaliate. He slowly pulls back, his fingers grazing the cut that you had just left.

His eyes narrow as he sees the blood on his hand. He looks back at you, the muscles in his jaw flexing.

“You’re fucking crazy” he says through clenched teeth. Without another word, he watches you slam the car into reverse, your tires screeching as you leave the lot.

He’s fucked up. He knows he has, the second it happened. If he could take it back, he would. But the damage is already done. He’s made his bed, and now he has to lie in it… even if it means someone else other than you, filling the empty space next to him. He lights a cigarette, downing a shot as he waits for the one who broke his heart.

You weren’t even planning on going tonight. The annual SAMCRO cookout. Same faces, same bullshit, and him. Tonight though, you were done hiding. Fuck it, he made his choice and that choice was Tara.

You step out of the shower, the steam curling around you. You drag your nail through the thick lotion, the same nail that left the scar on Jax’s pretty face. Your hands glide over your smooth skin, the moisturizer sinking deep into your rich complexion. Then, comes the dress. The little black one that clings to your body like a second skin, the one he used to pull up with desperate hands. You slip it on, letting it mould to every curve, every dip on your body on display. Next, come your earrings. Big and gold, the shimmer catching against your mocha scented skin. You finish your outfit with your knee high boots and your long leather jacket. Thankfully, your apartment is only a five minute walk away, which works out just fine. Because you already know you’re about to get reckless.

Before you even hit the gates, you can already feel the energy. The music blaring, the smoke from the BBQ rising up, thick and heavy. You can hear the laughter, the chatter and the roar of the bikes as they pile in. The smell of meat grilling in the air, mixed with the familiar smell of trouble.

All the usual suspects, all the familiar shit. Thankfully, you’re not scheduled to work tonight. Gemma always gives you the night off for events like this. She’d rather you be part of the chaos then stuck behind the bar serving drinks.

As you walk into the lot, the place is packed. People spilling out of the clubhouse and bikes lined up like fucking soldiers. You’ve been around the club long enough, worked the bar long enough but for some reason tonight feels different.

“Y/N! You ready for my meat yet?” Tigs voice cuts through the noise, loud as hell. You turn to find him holding a jumbo hot dog, the bastards grinning like he’s just made the best joke in the world.

You roll your eyes as you stroll over, giving him a once over, deciding to play along. He’s standing alongside Chibs and Happy, thankfully no Jax in sight… yet. You’re unsure if they know what had happened the other night between the two of you, and frankly you didn’t give a shit. “And if I said yes?” You ask, matching his banter.

Tig nearly loses his shit. “I mean, who could resist” his smile sharpens. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, shoving the thing in your direction. Without hesitation, you bite down on the end of the hotdog, Tigs eyes jokingly darken as Chibs and Happy Jeer him on.

“How you been?” Happy asks, the way he’s watching you, it’s obvious they know.

You don’t want to go there, not now. So you spin some bullshit about how you just needed some time to yourself, trying to steer the conversation away from whatever the fuck happened with Jax.

Chibs, sensing the tension pulls you over to the side. “Y/N I’m telling you this cause I’ve got love you… we all do. But she’s here with him”.

Your stomach ties in a knot, but you don’t let it show. Of course she fucking is. You give Chibs a quick kiss on the cheek. He knows what’s up, he’s trying to look out for you without betraying Jax and you’re thankful for it, but it still fucking stings.

You push further into the madness. Weaving through the crowd, meeting familiar faces, sharing small talk here and there, but still, no sight of Jax, or her.

“Hey sweetheart” a hand slides over your shoulder and you feel the warmth before you even turn. It’s Gemma. “You smell good” she adds, her voice smooth as she steps closer to you.

"Hey Gem" you greet her, pulling each other into a hug.

She looks you over, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You feeling better?" she gets closer to you as she speaks.

"Yeah, thanks" you reply, forcing a laugh. You know she sees right through your 'I'm too sick to come to work' bullshit.

You and Gemma always got along, she never asked questions she didn't already have the answers to. She knew about you and Jax, even if it was never said out loud. She saw how he softened around you, how much more at ease he was with you, more than anyone else, and as his mother, she appreciated how you helped him get through the aftermath of Tara, even if it was all in secret and never 'official'. She had never gotten along with Tara, even before she left Jax in pieces.

She looks at you, a little deeper than usual. “You know I’d always have your back?” she says, her words are heavy almost like a warning. Its cryptic, but you know exactly what she means. This was her way of saying ‘do what you gotta do’, no matter what’s going on with Jax.

The door creaks open as you step in, it doesn't take long. Jax is sitting at the bar, his back to you and his shoulders relaxed, like nothing ever happened. Tara, sitting next to him whispering too easily in his ear. You fucking hate it, but you force it down.

You take your coat off and adjust your dress before heading straight towards the bar, your heels clicking against the concrete, like a pre warning. Without a second thought, you slide onto the stool, directly next to Tara, close enough, that your thigh nearly brushes hers and close enough to make him fucking suffer. You don't say a word, you don't look at them. You just exist in their space like you fucking belong there.

Juice is behind the bar, pretending to do something useful, but mostly just messing around with bottles. Tara completely oblivious, doesn't even notice the way the air thickens around you. She's still smiling, still talking to Jax, unaware of how the entire room dynamic, has just shifted.

"Tryna steal my job Ortiz?" you say, setting your coat on the side.

Jax hears your voice before he sees you, every muscle in him on edge, knowing you’re close. Juice's eyes immediately flick to you, and then over to Jax. His lip twitches like he's trying to hold in a laugh.

He laughs awkwardly, "someones gotta keep shit in order while you've been off the grid" his words are careful, like he's tiptoeing around a landmine, his eyes continuing to go between you and Jax.

You tilt your head slightly, "hmm" is all you respond.

Juice stands there, unsure of what to do, he rubs a hand over the back of his neck "you want a drink, or you just here to bust my balls?"

“Both” you say with a sweet smile. “whiskey... neat” your tone is effortless, like none of this fucking bothers you.

Jax is watching you. You can feel it, the burn of his eyes into the side of your face. His eyes never leave you. Cold and calculating, almost as if he's trying to figure out your next move but he doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to. He never expected you to show up tonight, and the second he heard you order a whiskey, he fucking knew. He knew tonight was bound to go south. He'd seen you drunk before, and with this shit brewing? Shit was never gonna end clean.

Juice places your drink in front of you, he extends his hand, offering to take your coat too. As soon as you rise from your seat, Jax's eyes drag over you. And then it hits him. That dress. His favourite fucking dress. The one he'd fist in his hands as he fucked you against any available surface. It's hugging every curve, taunting him. His jaw tightens, his fingers flexing against his beer. Fuck, he misses you.

You pick up your glass, turning to leave, but at the last second, you pause. Not for Jax though. For her.

You turn to Tara, your voice laced with fake sweetness "Missed home, huh?"

Jax is almost vibrating with tension, Tara is still completely oblivious. "Yeah, its good to be back" She smiles in your direction.

Jax's jaw is clenching. You still show him no interest. Your Gaze locked on Tara, and he knows, deep down, you're doing it on purpose, and its fucking killing him.

“Thanks Juice,” you say, tossing a grin over your shoulder before heading back into the crowd.

You barely make it outside, before your wrist is yanked, so hard your bracelets are digging into your skin. He pushes you discreetly against the wall outside the club, just out of sight.

His grip is tight, too tight and he’s barely holding himself together.

“You think this is some kind of fucking game?” His voice sounds more like a growl, his nostrils flaring in anger.

You tilt your head, finally giving him the attention he wants.

“Do you?” You say, almost as if you’re challenging him. He tightens his hold for just a second.

“Cut the shit” he growls, his voice rough.

You scoff, moving your face closer towards him, close enough that he can feel your breath on his top lip. “You started it” your voice is sharp and also taunting.

For a second, it feels as if he might snap, grab you or even kiss you, maybe he’ll completely lose it.

But you just smirk, slow and cruel and then you slip free from his grasp, turn and walk away.

He looks up into the air, exhaling a deep breath. A few steps away, stands Gemma witnessing it all.He stands there, his fists clenched as he watches you walk away, like he doesn’t want to chase after you, drag you back to where you belong.

But he doesn’t fucking move.

He doesn’t need to see her, to know she’s making her way over. He can feel it.

“Not now, ma” he says, exhaling hard through his nose and running a hand through his hair.

Gemma scoffs, stepping right up beside him. “I’ve seen you do some stupid shit, but pushing her away for Tara?” She shakes her head in disgust “you must be outta your goddamn mind”

“You don’t know shit” Still, he doesn’t move, his eyes tracking your every movement.

“I know everything, Jackson” she moves closer to him, her face inches from his. “I know watching her walk away is killing you, I know you feel something real for that girl, but I know you’re too much of a stubborn little shit to admit it” Jax goes to speak but she cuts him off just as quick. “So instead. You’re walking around with that stuck up heart breaker who’s already ruined you once?”

He says nothing, shifts his eyes slightly to Gemma, he knows she’s talking the truth, but like she said, he’s way too stubborn.

“Don’t be a goddamn coward Jackson” She shoves past him, her shoulder knocking his as she storms off.

You’ve spent the night effortlessly dodging both Jax and Tara, three drinks in and already you’re feeling the warmth spread through you. The alcohol just about taking the edge off, just enough for you to be able to relax a little.

You’ve caught up with Opie and Donna, laughing over their kids and life. The conversation being easy and light hearted. Opie, not mentioning Jax once. And you’re thankful for it.

You’re currently stood having a quick chat with Unser, the two of you standing next to the BBQ, a joint in hand. He offers, but you politely decline, pulling your own from your purse. Whiskey and weed? Probably not the best combo, but you’re too far gone to care right now. You’re still laughing at the shit show unfolding in front of you. Juice fumbles with the grill, burning nearly everything he touches.

“Give it here” Unser groans, rolling his eyes as he takes over the grill, his face giving that ‘’I’m too old for this shit’ kinda look.

You feel a presence right next to you, it’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

“Can I get you a drink?” The voice is deep but smooth. You recognise him but you don’t really know him, you remember the way he checks you out though. He’s one of those faces you always see at these kind of things, someone who’s always there but not quite in the circle.

You look him up and down, dark hair, full of tattoos and broad. He has that rough kind of vibe, but not in the biker way. Out of instinct, you almost decline, but then you remember who you’re dealing with. And if jax wants to play this game, then so can you. You don’t owe him shit.

“Lead the way” you respond, a flirty smile creeping upon your face. Your voice is calm, but inside, you already know what you’re doing.

Jax is sat at a table in the back of the clubhouse, a cigarette burning between his fingers, pretending like he's not coming apart at the seams. Chibs and Tig see it, the tightness in his jaw, the way his knee bounces up and down. But Tara? She's still clueless.

That's when you walk in.

His firm hand rests low on your back, steering you towards the bar. Jax clocks it instantly, he drags hard on his cigarette, the smoke hitting his lungs with force and then, you look at him, just for a second, but long enough to make it clear.

You slide onto a barstool, your body angled just right. Legs crossed, dress rising just enough to make a man sweat, your lips curved in that dangerous smile. But its not for the man in front of you. Its all for Jax.

You laugh, leaning closer, your hand grazing over his arm. Jax watching the whole damn time. He watches as you whisper something into his ear, he watches as you raise your hand, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, just like you would do for him.

You're playing dirty, and he knows it, and its fucking working.

Jax swirls his glass in his hand, barely listening to whatever the fuck Tara's going on about. The muscles in his forearm flexing with how tight he's holding it. He watches how you bite your lip between sips, how your finger trails down the side of your glass, How you lean in too close when talking to him. He knows you, he knows when you're getting too loose, too reckless.

He shifts in his seat, trying to breathe through it. But its fucking impossible. Tara, grabbing onto his arm, snapping him back to the table "You okay?" He gives a sharp nod, but his eyes don't move off of you.

Chibs and Tig exchange a look, both of them knowing exactly what's about to unfold. They barely have time to react, before either of them try to steady him, he's already on his feet. He looks at Tara, "I’m sorry" he breathes out, the words cold but he doesn't care.

He's done pretending, that 'sorry' means its the end of whatever the fuck they had going on since she's been back. Tara blinks, she’s caught off guard by his bluntness. She cant read him right now, and he doesn't give her any time to try.

He yanks the guy back so fast his drink spills across the table, the glass smashing against the floor. You don’t even feel bad, because your petty plan has worked perfectly.

The room falls into a heavy silence, all eyes now on Jax. Tig and Chibs, already on standby in case shit gets out of hand. But the guy doesn’t even try to fight back. One look at Jax and he’s already backing away, his hands raised in surrender.

You scoff, shaking your head “are you foreal?”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even hesitate.

His hand wraps around your upper arm, fingers sinking into your flesh, hard enough to leave marks.

“Get the fuck up” he orders, his voice dangerous.

And that’s exactly what you do.

You let him drag you through the clubhouse, past the staring faces, stepping over the innocent guy who you sucked into your petty little game.

As you pass Tara, you flash her the bitchiest smile you can manage. Loving the way her face tightens, before Jax pulls you out into the cool night air.

She, doesn't even need to think about it, she knows exactly what's going on. Slowly, she picks her bag up from the floor, her hands trembling. She doesn't say a word, just straightens her back like she's maintaining control. But it’s all an act, she knows she's lost him.

Chibs shakes his head, he knows how this is going to end, and its only a matter of time before everything blows up. Tig on the other hand, sits there, grinning like Cheshire cat. He’s always had a twisted love from drama, and this is only the beginning.

He pulls you toward the garage. Shoving open the heavy metal door and yanking you inside. The second the door slams shut behind you both, you know shits about to get real.

Jax is pacing like a caged animal, his movements sharp and erratic. His chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths. Sweat beads lined up in perfect formation along his brow and his hair a damp mess. He looks like a man about to lose his fucking mind.

Meanwhile, you're leaning comfy against the Chevy, which is due to be serviced tomorrow. Arms folded beneath your chest, the alcohol humming through your veins. You've seen Jax like this before, ready to throw hands, ready to tear through anything or anyone in his path. But being the one in his line of fire? its fucking delicious.

His fist slams into the side of the Snap-On toolbox, splitting his knuckles, the blood dripping to the ground.

"FUCK!" he shouts, not in pain but in fucking rage.

He shakes his hand, regaining his composure as he walks closer to you, his eyes full of frustration, and something else you recognise.

"Stop fucking playing with me" he seethes out, his voice thick with warning.

You tilt your head, that infuriating smile back on your face. "Or what?"

His jaw swings side to side, his anger just about contained, but you don't back down, you aint built like that.

"Wait, let me guess…" you taunt, cocking your hips further in his direction "…you don't want me no more, but no one else can have me, right?" your words leave your mouth strong and slow. "Well fuck that, I aint the one”

And that, was all it took.

Jax moves so fast you don't even see it coming. One second, you're testing his patience, the next, his hand is clamped round your throat.

His grip is a warning, a promise even. Anyone else might be scared, but you? you're aching for more, thighs clenched and your pulse racing.

You wanted to push him, to see how far he'd go, and fuck. You’ve got exactly what you wanted.

"You think I don't want you?" he's looking at you, fucking intensely. His grip tightening ever so slightly.

You raise your hands, gripping his. The blood from his knuckles a vibrant contrast against your dark skin. Your nails dig deep, leaving a new set of fresh marks on his flesh.

"YOU BEEN FUCKIN ACTIN LIKE IT! YOU RAN BACK TO THAT BITCH QUICK ENOUGH” Your voice trembles, barely holding your words together.

Jax releases your neck, shoving your hands off him equally as fast. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY Y/N? YOU WANT ME TO SAY SORRY?" His voice echoes through the garage.

You shake your head, the disbelief washing over you. "I don't want your sorry Jax" Your hand hovers where his grip just laced your skin. "I want the fuckin’ truth" you say softly, a desperate edge to your voice.

He knows exactly where you're going with this. This has never just been about sex, and you both knew that this moment was going to come sooner or later. He exhales harshly, his hands against his face like he's praying for some fucking patience.

"Tell me you don't have feelings for me" you whisper, your voice trembling but still powerful. "Tell me you don't love me the way I love you".

Fuck. You just drunkenly confessed you're in love with him. There's no turning back now. You've broken the rules first. The words are out, raw and real and your confession hangs in the air.

Silence.

For a moment, you see it in his eyes, the vulnerability, the fear and the truth he wont fucking say.

But then, just like that, its gone.

Anger rises over you again, you scream, shoving him and pounding your fists against his chest "TELL ME!" you're desperate to hear the words, to know you're not alone in this.

And then, he breaks.

"You want me to say it?" His voice comes out as a low growl, something almost wicked.

Then, he spins you around, your back now in line with his chest.

"Jax! what the fuc-" Your words are cut short. Too distracted by the rough tug of his hands, dragging your dress, his favourite dress, up your thighs and exposing your curves in his most favorite way.

He presses a heavy hand to the centre of your back, forcing you to arch against the hood of the car.

"You wanna hear me say it?" He repeats, his belt clinking as he fumbles to get it undone.

You're so fucking ready for him, you can't even get the words out, but the moan that escapes your lips tells him, its exactly what you want.

His fingers slide between your thighs, parting you, gliding between your wetness.

"You knew it was gonna end like this, didnt you? All fucking wet, begging for it. Thats why you've been pushing me so hard…ain’t that right darlin’" he leans his body weight over you now, his stubble pressed against your cheek.

You laugh under his force, because he's right. This is exactly what you wanted.

And that's what pushes him over the edge, because he knows it too.

He kicks your legs apart, lining himself up perfectly.

And then he's inside of you, burying himself back where he belongs with a slow, dominant thrust.

A broken moan rips from your throat as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly, you can't even breathe. He groans into your ear, gripping your hips so tight you know you'll still be wearing his fingerprints tomorrow.

"Fuck y/n" he's panting fast, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. "You feel so...fucking..." and then, he goes harder, throwing his head back in pure bliss.

The car rocks with every thrust beneath you, your palms flat against the cold metal hood, as he fucks you like he wants to ruin you.

His hands slide up your body, wrapping around your throat once again, tilting your head back so that he can kiss you. It’s deep and messy, just how you like it.

"You wanted the truth?" he breathes out, the impact of his thrusts getting harder. Another loud, elongated moan is your only response.

"I fucking love you" he mutters into your ear as your nails dig into the metal.

He reaches a hand underneath you, circling your clit, slow and deliberate drawing whimpers from your mouth. He knows exactly how you like it.

You lift one leg, draping it over the edge of the hood, giving Jax the freedom to adjust himself. His hands grip your thighs as he pulls you closer, shifting his angle and deepening the connection between the two of you.

"Fuck, this is gonna kill me" He laughs. The garage is too cramped, the car an awkward height for Jax's tallness and the hood is freezing against your back.

You sit up straight, the intensity as strong as ever, he slides his hands down your body, brushing against your skin. You're crashing into the metal shelves, knocking tools over in the process. The loud clanking sounds echo around the room but it doesn't stop either of you. It only adds to the chaos of the moment.

You guide him toward the corner of the garage, Jax kicks off his jeans and boxers in a fast move, his breath quickening, both of your eyes dark with hunger as he slides himself down against the wall. Without wasting another second, you hover above him, slowly sliding down onto his thick cock with a low, breathless moan. You're in control now, and he loves it.

You bury your face into his shoulder, muffling your moans. "Fuck! y/n" he groans, his hands digging into your ass cheeks as he tries to make you move faster.

His eyes burn with need as he watches you fuck yourself on him, rolling your hips in deliberate moves, your moans getting louder with each one. "I love you too" the words escape your lips, Jax's cock twitching in response.

Outside, Chibs, Juice and Tig are making their way to the garage, following after you both in the aftermath of the mayhem you had left behind. They stop for a moment, hearing things knocking around, but the absence of voices has them confused.

"You think they're fucking or fighting in there?" Tig laughs, squeezing Chibs’ shoulders from behind.

Chibs takes a long drag from his cigarette "Who the fuck knows...could be both".

And then they hear it.

The sound of you and Jax coming together, both of your moans filling the air like a perfect fucking harmony.

The desperate guttural sounds of pleasure echoing through the garage, and into the parking lot outside, making it impossible for anyone nearby to ignore. Your soaked walls flutter around his cock as you both hit your peak, your bodies trembling together.

The guys stop dead in their tracks, eyes wide as they all look around at each other in a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Yeah… they’re definitely fucking" Tig laughs, they spin on their heels avoiding the garage at all costs. They know exactly what's happening in there, and they sure as hell aren't about to interrupt.

Photos & gifs do not belong to me, just edited together.

If I had a £ for every time I wrote the word fuck or fucking in this story, I’d be fucking rich 💀

Again, please don’t take anything written as a stereotype/generalisation I’m writing from my own black heart lol 🖤

Thank you for your requests! Love a bit of jealous Jax. | Also, apologies for not adding in the old lady bit, I tried and it worked smoother ending it here, but I can always do a part two…

(Slowly getting through one request at a time, so please don’t think I’m ignoring or not doing them, just doing them in the order that they come in)

Jax Teller Masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

[everdeensworld]

VDay prompts: 9&10, hotch x fem!reader (could be gen neutral, bau!reader too!) Aaron saying the dialogue

prompts: #9 “just keep your eyes closed.” “you’re not leading me to my death are you?” #10 “i hate valentine’s day, it’s pointless.” “i’m going to change your mind, go out with me.”

authors note: haha! don’t worry about it, thank you for the request!

prompt list

“i hate valentine’s day, its pointless.” being a hopeless romantic, hearing aaron say that in such confidence had urged you to change his mind.

he and been a pessimist as long as you knew him, but you knew he enjoyed holidays like christmas and halloween, the bau had always made them into a big deal, and he did have a young son, so you knew those days were very magical for kids, for his son, so therefore they were magical to him too.

but hating valentine’s day! you just could not allow it, and this was the perfect opportunity you couldn’t pass up, having feelings for your boss was taboo, but after gaining a friendship with him, it felt a little less taboo.

“i’m going to change your mind, go out with me.” you said to him in full confidence, which had caught his usually stoic self off guard, he lets out a little laugh, assuming you were just kidding.

“i’m not joking, go out with me.” you say, then clearing your throat. “if you want to that is.”

he stared down at your face trying to decipher wether or not you were really being serious, slowly his face softened. “okay, alright then, i will go out with you, you better dazzle me, i do hate valentine’s day after all.”

you smile, gleefully. “of-course, nothing less for you.”

that’s how you got to where you are now, his eyes covered with a blindfold, and you were covering that with your hand, for good measure, leading him to where you’d be having your date.

after he had agreed you had spend most your free time planning for it, you’d been hopelessly in love with aaron since you’d met him, and taking him out on valentines day could be the chance to finally have him love you back.

“do i have to have this blindfold on?” he asked with a grumble, almost stumbling over a tree stump, trying to reach up to take it off but you swat his hand away.

“just keep your eyes closed!” you tell him, in a firm voice, eliciting a soft chuckle from him.

“you’re not leading me to my death are you?” he asked, feeling you lead him down a path that was pretty narrow, he hears you let out a soft huff.

“don’t you have any faith in me aaron, you’re too— work mode.”

before he could make a witty response back, you let go of his hand and swivel around to him, “okay, we’re here, you can take off your blindfold now!”

he’s quick to take it off, deep down he knows he’d been looking forward to this, even if he claimed he hated valentine’s day, he couldn’t, not when you loved it.

his eyes searched the area, it was a little patch of grass, a few candles and a picnic blanket decked out with treats, snacks and meal foods, his eyes widened.

maybe it was high-school of him to feel like he had butterflies, it had been a while since he’d experienced anything remotely romantic.

ever since he’d lost his ex-wife, he steered clear of love, it scared him, he didn’t think that he deserved it, and he didn’t think anyone would want a man with all his baggage, not only that he had a young son.

he didn’t want to put anyone in danger, and he didn’t want to put you in danger.

the role-reversal was quite a strange feeling on his part, he’d never had someone lead him to a picnic with, blindfold on, or ask him to be their valentine so sweetly, but it was quite freeing, it made him feel liked, worthy.

not that he didn’t mind being the one to make romantic gestures, in fact, if you hadn’t been the one to ask him out, he had shamefully, got a corny valenties card with a bee on it that said ‘bee my valentine.’

after all, before you had boldly asked him out on a date, he pretended he didn’t care for valentine’s day.

he was glad he didn’t have that to show, seeing the effort you had put in for him, he would’ve looked like the world greatest asshole. “this is… wonderful.” he smiled.

“is it?” you look up at him. “i know it’s a bit.. uh, girly, i hope you don’t mind, i just thought that even men deserve to be doted on every once in a while.”

the hesitant look on your face made his heart swell, “it’s perfect, i think valentine’s day is creeping up on me..” he smirked, making you grin with excitement.

“well! now we’ve got to make you love it, i’ve got champagne, and all your favourite foods.” you say, leading him to the picnic blanket, he followed willingly.

what you didn’t know was, you’d already had him hooked on valentine’s day, he loved it, though watching you try and convince him a little bit longer wouldnt hurt.

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

Hello :) thank you so much for writing these propmts! I would like to request number 8 with landoscar (i dont know if this is allowed or not so please feel free to ignore this but i would love if it was about Oscars broken rib. However i will totally appreciate everything you write!!)

of course you're allowed to ask!!!! i'm pretty chill about trying to make requests fit the request! unless it's something i'm absolutely weirded out by. so no worries there.

from this prompt list here, number 8: "are you hurt"

Apologies again, this isn't really angst despite the "angsty prompt list" i'm apparently only capable of writing SOFT

It's hard to breathe, when he gets out of the car, can't stop himself from letting out a long, hissing breath as he frees himself. He sees the team waiting for him already as he climbs out, bated breath and broad grins. It feels good, knowing they're waiting for him, but he has to prepare himself.

He's already overstimulated from the pain, knows he's going to have to talk to Kim about it, but it's not like they have infinite amounts of time between Austria and Silverstone. He's probably just going to have to put his head down and grin through it. After all, it's what he's good at anyways. He hugs them, allows for pats on the back, gritting his molars together as sparks burst behind his eyelids. He just needs to make it through the podium, and then he can lie flat on his back in his driver's room and breathe through it.

Pop some extra strength ibuprofen and hope it's enough. Wonders if it's a pulled muscle, a pressure injury, even. He hopes that it's an easy fix, because he can't imagine sitting any part of this season out. Not with their car being a rocket ship. Not with the team where they are in the standings.

The podium celebration happens in a blur, leans himself into Carlos a little too heavily when his vision goes a little blurry from the pain of keeping himself completely upright. Knows his face probably looks deathly pale, but hopes no one else notices. He's relatively unscathed, when he makes it off the podium.

He's still got media left to do, still has the post race press conference, and the longer time stretches, the more exhausting it feels. The more energy it requires. It all passes in a blur, he can't remember the answers that spill out of his mouth to the questions he's asked. Knows that George and Carlos can probably tell that something's wrong, but they're probably not about to ask them what. Especially not George, riding the high of his victory.

When it's all over, he stumbles back to his driver's room, catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, cheeks flushed, eyes fever bright, he doesn't know why anyone didn't stop him.

It's slow-going to get his fireproofs off, every movement sending a sharp pain through his side, exacerbated by every breath he takes. He's only got them stripped to the waist when there's a knock on the door.

He opens it, and his mouth opens, and then closes, before he steps out of the way, wordlessly. Letting Lando barrel past him and flop down dramatically on the massage table in the middle of the room. It was a shit race for Lando, and Oscar knows he has to be fuming. He's just not sure he has the energy for it right now, doesn't have the energy to listen to Lando bitch about Max. All he wants to do is put something comfortable on, crawl into a car, and then crawl into his hotel bed, and sleep until morning before they have to repeat the week all over again, but at Silverstone instead.

"You alright?" he asks, trying to muffle the gasp of pain that escapes as he bends over to finish pushing off his fireproofs. But Lando doesn't answer, and when Oscar looks up, Lando's looking at him, eyes laser focused, lips downturned.

"Are you hurt?" the question comes out forceful, almost accusatory, and Oscar nods, a short, sharp jerk of his head.

Lando pushes himself up into a sitting position, looks at him, head tilted. "You told Kim yet?" he asks, and Oscar's reminded of a dog, waiting for a bone. "Haven't had the chance, have I, mate?" he says, sharply, turning his back on Lando, forgoing peeling the rest of his suit off to pull off his fireproofs instead.

Lets Lando see the long, naked line of his back in hopes that it'll be enough of a distraction, as he pulls on a t-shirt, zips on a hoodie over it. He still has to change his bottoms, get himself out of the fireproof leggings and the rest of his suit, but the idea of it is exhausting. He wants to flop down onto the massage table like Lando did, and cease to exist for just a little while.

"How bad?" Lando's still on the topic, and Oscar wants to tell him to let it go. "Mind yours," he hisses through his teeth, as he runs a hand through his hair, moves towards his backpack, where he knows he has a stash of ibuprofen stored. Lando grabs his wrist as he walks by, and Oscar allows himself to be reeled in, until he's standing between Lando's spread legs, so close their noses are practically touching.

"How bad, Oscar?" Lando asks again, and Oscar swallows heavily, the click of his throat loud in the quiet of his driver's room. Darts his gaze to Lando's blue-green eyes, and then away again, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze.

"Hurts to breathe," he mutters, and Lando nods, brushes his thumb reassuringly over the slope of Oscar's wrist, before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, soft and chaste.

"I'm getting Kim," Lando says, finality in his tone. And then he's hopping off the table and making a beeline for the door, turning back for one second to look at Oscar, eyes burning through him with their intensity.

"Stay," it's a command, if he's ever heard one.

[wh1ski]

His Perfect Doll

pairing : toji fushiguro / fem reader

rating + word count : explicit + 2.7K

tags : free use, daddy kink (?), one mention of breeding, slight choking, slight body worship, slight bimbofication (?), i suck at tagging.

got bored and was like hey, lets write. ask box is open for requests. enjoy <3

the relationship you had with toji wasn't that different than any other relationship. just like any woman, you cooked and cleaned for your man, you folded his laundry and even ironed them… there was the small, rather noticeable, fact that you just happened to do all of these things naked. toji didn’t buy you clothes. instead he bought you fishnet bodysuits, maid aprons and thongs, knee high stockings and mary janes. anything that left very little to the imagination, anything that could give him quick access to your body. you didn't mind this, you were living the life! anything you wanted, toji would buy you. all you had to do was present yourself to him whenever he felt like fucking.

sometimes it wasn’t fucking. it was toji tying you up on the couch and having a toy thrusting in you while he played his little game system next to you, letting whoever he was playing with hear you moaning loudly in the background. other times it could be toji coming home from work and just wanting to bury his dick in something warm. you on his lap, reverse cowgirl style, dick inside you while he scrolls through his phone and slaps your ass anytime you try to move. you were nothing but a living breathing sex doll and you preferred it no other way.

you were making cookies, something sweet for your sweetie, when he walked in the house. you didn't speak, just turned to smile at him and wait to see if he needed you to do anything for him. toji looked at you with a grin, placing his gun on the counter before taking off his shirt, scarred abs on full display. you could have melted at the sight of his body, your cunt starting to clamp down on nothing as you got further excited to see just what toji was in the mood for today.

there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he walked towards you slowly. you wanted to squirm, walk towards him, anything to get your hands on him quicker. but you didn’t. you knew better than that. you were tojis perfect doll and you aimed to please him. once he got close to you, he pulled the apron you were wearing off. exposing you wearing nothing but black stockings, a thong and your favorite pair of heels. he only whispered two words to you, his lips so close to your face, your eyes staring deeply into his with yearning. “bedroom. now.” and you automatically turned around to begin walking in that direction, no thoughts in your head other than the ones about how you were ready to be a good human fleshlight for toji.

before you could even take a seat on the bed, toji was grabbing your tits from behind, making a small gasp come from you. involuntarily, your hips bucked forward and a moan slipped out as he rolled and pulled at your nipples. god, he always knew how to make you feel so nice. you could feel how hard he was, he wasn't even trying to hide the fact he was grinding against your ass. “i've been thinking about playing with you all day. been thinking ‘bout how good you look bouncing on my dick, how filthy the sounds you make are, how wet you get when i touch you.” a shudder ran down your spine, toji had such a way with making dirty things sound like romance.

he let go of your tits, pushing you down to lay across the bed. you could feel his finger slip under your thong, not bothering to even pull it off but settling for placing it off to the side. his hand felt so big as he gripped your ass, massaging it with a few slaps here and there that made you bite down on your lip to hold back any noises. toys don't make noises. you knew toji liked it when you sounded like a whining, sex driven, bimbo whose only purpose was to cum for him but you liked to have him earn those babbled sentences from you. it was the one little act of control he allowed you.

“god, i love the way your ass moves. im gunna fuck you until your body gives out, gunna have you nothing but a cum covered mess.” you could hear the smirk he wore, you could feel the thick hot dick that was rubbing against your ass, trails of precum being left in its path. “get on your knees and hold it open for me. let's see how wet you are, i bet you’re already leaking for me. such a good fucking girl.” and with a slap on your ass, you were on your knees, chest and face pressed against the mattress with your pussy on full display for him. your hands behind you doing exactly what he said to do. you groaned at the pressure, arching your back even more - desperate to be filled.

he hummed, inserting a finger inside of you. if you weren’t used to how ready your body always was for him, you would have a cringed at the wet sound it made, a few drops landing on the bed. toji always made you feel needy, your mind numb from arousal and thoughts only focusing on looking like a brainless cumslut for him. you wanted to please, you wanted to be good for him.

his finger curled inside of you, hitting the spot that made you let out a highpitched moan, your body slowly moving to fuck yourself on his finger. he laughed at the sight, pushing in two more fingers and starting to thrust and curl inside of you. you bit your lip, eyes rolling in the back of your hand as you started bouncing back on his fingers. “you’re fucking needy. they’re only my fingers, baby. ah, what can i expect from a fucking sex doll, huh? anything to get off right?” toji reached under you, pulling hard at your nipple.

god, your mind was fogged. desperate sounds of want coming out of your mouth, his name being repeated like a broken record. “yes daddy, more please. wanna feel you, wanna be full of your cum. please, pleas-“ he took his fingers out of you, slapping your ass before yanking you up by your hair and pulling you back to his chest. there was a smirk on his scarred lips as he shoved his fingers in your mouth, letting you taste yourself, you sucked on them desperately. staring up at him from under your eyelashes, you couldn’t help but feel so pleased you got to be fucked so good by him. nothing but a doll, nothing but the warmest hole for him to cum in.

toji grabbed your tit, leaning down to suck on the hardened nipple. his teeth grazing it as he teased a bite. your hand went down your stomach, trying to sneakily slip your fingers between yourself. he laughed at that, this time actually biting your nipple in warning. you moaned, hand leaving your stomach and going to grab at his hair. toji pulled back, taking his fingers out of your mouth and pushing you back down on the bed. “roll over. feet on the headboard.” and you listened, lifting your legs slowly over your head until they were touching the headboard, hands reaching down to spread your pussy open for him. he looked so fucking good, staring down at you with dark eyes, dick on full display - hard as he rubbed a hand over it before tapping it against your wetness, rubbing it over your clit over and over and ov-

“please fuck me. please make a mess of it, i want to cum on it while you’re inside. come on toji, stop teasing.” it was so evident he wanted to laugh but instead pulled back completely. leaving you whining and turning your hand over on the pillow. toji tilted his head, looking at you. “last i checked, toys don't talk. stop using your fucking mouth for talking. you’re prettier when you’re moaning and taking my dick.” were you feeling testy today? probably. toji hadn’t used you before he went to work like he usually did. it had been at least 30 hours since you had felt him inside of you. so you bit back, “please, please. just put it in.” you could see the change in his eyes as his hand shot up and wrapped around your throat.

“didn’t i say shut the fuck up?” he was so close to your face, hand so tight around your throat that your head was getting light. you felt scared, he liked it when you were scared. you gasped, trying to breathe as he leaned down to bite at your lip. he pushed back, letting you go as you gasped for air. was it bad that you were more wet now than ever? no, not at all. “you wanna be fucked so bad you’d disobey me?” his eyebrow was raised, a hand going up to run through his hair. was this a rhetorical question? did you have to say anything back?

you didn’t have too. because then he was ramming himself into you and then you were shouting at the force, tears coming into your eyes as he hit your cervix. “fuck,” his voice was breathy, deep, and from his chest as he continued to pound relentlessly into you. your eyes were glued to the bulge that appeared in your stomach with each thrust and his eyes were stuck staring at your face. “is this what you wanted?” he asked, leaning over you so that you were face to face. “wanted me to fuck you like the whore you are? look at you, you’re almost fucked out already.” his finger came up to wipe the drool that was on the corner of you mouth. you hadn’t even realized you were drooling, his dick just felt so fucking good. it was hitting every spot your fingers could never reach, your stomach felt full and your mouth seemed like it couldn't close as you stared at him stuck in pleasure as whine after whine came out of you.

he stared deep into your eyes, making the prettiest sentences out of the nastiest words as he thrusted into you: gonna make you eat the cum out of yourself, look at how your tits bounce when i fuck into you, fucking you so good you’re drooling on yourself. your lower stomach tightened, your legs starting to shake as you felt your orgasm begin to hit you. toji felt so good, so good, so good as he grinded down into you, his hand beginning to rub at your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? cum on daddys dick, come on come on.” he encouraged, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge and right when you got there, toji pulled completely back. he just pulled out of you and stopped massaging your clit but the noises you let out as your orgasm was ruined made it sound as if you were grieving. you felt yourself want to sob, hips twisting and head turning while toji laughed above you.

“you didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” you whined as he spoke, running your hands down your body as your hips grinded against nothing. toji grabbed your leg, turning you on your side and throwing your leg up over his shoulder. you looked up at him, his eyes were taking in every curve in your body, you poked out your ass a little, bringing your leg down and wiggled enough to be a tease. toji liked the shows you put on for him and you liked that you could make him turned on. he stroked his dick as he watched you grind down on nothing. “you’re such a fucking slut. you can’t even wait a few more seconds, fucking the air are we?” he slapped your ass, spreading you open so he could position himself while you impatiently pushed down towards him.

toji groaned as he eased slowly back in, grabbing the back of your knee and pushing your leg down on you as he started thrusting in you. for a second you thought you felt his dick pulsing inside of you and felt a warm sensation in your stomach again. the noises you were making must have been turning him on by the second, you sounded so helpless. so pathetic and needy, like if he stopped he was going to kill you. “you take it so well, such a good fucking hole for me. god, you look so filthy. whining and moaning, me fucking you senseless. you can't even make a sentence, beautiful. pathetic.” oh you loved him. you loved him, you never wanted this to stop - the pleasure, the pain, the way his nails digged into you.

you wanted to be as sultry and nasty for him as possible, grabbing your tits in your hands and beginning to suck on your nipple as you stared up at him. his hips stuttered, rhythm messing up and mouth going slack. “just like that baby, fuck.” his rhythm went back to normal, but his eyes were low and his grip was tight and he was rolling his hips and his words werent making sense and, “fuck you’re so tight, so fucking wet for daddy. my fucking hole, my bitch in heat,” your jaw went slack as he started massaging your clit, moans falling out your mouth as your massage at your tits, pinching and pulling at them as they bounced in your hands with each hard thrust. he was all but drilling into you, the headboard slamming against the wall - you kind of felt bad for your neighbors. its like his pace was getting more and more erratic, your stomach tightening and heating up once again. “i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna cum. daddy! please please, your dick feels so good. ah, im so wet for you fuck fuck fuck.” you were in such a state of pleasure, you fucking forgot you werent supposed to talk. toji didn't seem to mind, he was groaning and squeezing you hard enough to leave bruises.

the sounds of skin slapping skin, the headboard banging loudly, the squelching of each thrust and you all but screaming with pleasure was enough to send you overboard. your body tightening up as you squirted all over his stomach and screamed his name. toji kept massaging at your clit, helping you through your orgasm. “good job, baby. you left a mess all over daddy, fucking beautiful. i love when you cum for me, fuck.” your head was so light, the pleasure turning to overstimulation as he kept playing with you. you were sensitive, your mind telling you to stop but your body still grinding against his hand. you wanted it all, you wanted everything he could give you. desperate.

you knew he was close from how his moans got louder, how his thrusts became more and more forceful. “‘m gonna fill you full of my cum, breed you like the good little bitch you are. you feel so fucking good, such a desperate bitch. youre clamping down on me even after you came. you don’t want daddy to stop, huh? want me to fuck every little thought out of that head of yours?” and then you could feel the hot cum filling you up, you stayed still whining as toji fucked into you like you were just a fleshlight, just a toy for him to use - and you were. his and his only. toji leaned down slowly, kissing you with so much love, rubbing his hands over your sides. “you were such a good girl,” he said, pulling back to kiss over your neck, your shoulder, the top of your breast.

you knew toji loved you. he could have anyone and he wanted you. out there, you didn't know who he was but inside the apartment you shared he was a king. you would treat him as such. so when he pulled out and sat up right, saying clean me off. well, that's just what you did.

[moonandst4rs]

“I think we’re alone now”

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Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X F!READER

WC: 382

Summary: Dean wants alone time with you.

Warnings / Content: Inspired by I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany. no use of y/n, fluff,

A/N: Feel free to ask questions or simply chat. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The hunt was tough. You, Sam, and Dean had been hunting these damn werewolves for three weeks straight. They never stayed in the same place for too long, which meant the three of you were hopping from motel to motel with constant driving. It felt never-ending.

You loved the drives, windows down, listening to Dean’s music—much to Sam’s annoyance. But three weeks stuck together with no escape had been driving you all up the wall. Dean’s loud chewing with his mouth open, Sam’s perfectionism and complaining, your music blasting through your headphones… although you’d argue Sam was just being dramatic.

After missing your chance to catch the werewolves—again—Sam stormed out of the motel, Dean’s obnoxious chewing being his breaking point. Dean couldn’t hide his happiness. He didn’t mean to drive Sam out—or at least, that’s what he said.

He walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder before resting his chin there.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he started softly, peppering kisses up your neck.

You leaned back against him. “Hey, you. Sam’s gonna be back soon. You realize that, right?” You commented, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Sam walked back in.

“Can’t a man have a moment with his girl?” Dean remarked. He brushed his hand up and down your side before resting it on your hips.

“Mmh, not when you and your brother are practically joined at the hip,” you grinned. You were well aware of the brothers' close bond. It was sweet—and a pain in the ass sometimes. Seriously, one year without them trying to sacrifice themselves would be nice. That’s all you ask.

“We’re not joined at the hip,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yeah, and I’m Santa Claus.” You rolled your eyes. “Besides, you and Sam—”

Dean cut you off with a tender kiss. You chuckled but wrapped your arms around his neck, cupping the back of his head. He broke away and kissed your forehead before shooting Sam a text, practically threatening him to stay away.

He held you tightly as he gently pushed you onto the bed before climbing on top, caging your head between his arms. He showed you the message and Sam’s annoyed reply. “I think we’re alone now.”

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[deathbxnny]

Hello! Could I request Acheron, Feixiao and Jingliu x Angel! Reader, please? (In context the reeader is an extremely powerful entity that has lived for centuries, basically their job is to slay evil beings and demons. They don't have a true form as they can shapeshift. However they have 12 angelic pure white wings with a bright halo. They can use any weapons however they usually carried a hot flaming sword that can pretty much burn anything even Aeons. However they have a very unique and gentle aura as they can calm down their bloodlust or give them peace with just their presence alone. Despite all of that they are extremely kind and empathetic. However because of their extreme power and presence they can't always intervine and humans affairs as they are also bounded by rules. However they aren't afraid of bending them if it means they can save lives or make their beloved life a little better)

HSR women with an angel!Reader. | Acheron, Feixiao, Jingliu

I found this actually pretty fun to write about Anon, so I hope you'll enjoy this too!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, hsr canon violence, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》ACHERON

You being an angel often fades into the back of her mind, as your presence envelopes her scrambled memories into a warm and calming hug. She feels at ease around you, finally finding time to rest in between her hard and at times difficult workload as a galaxy ranger.

She respects you as an equal and doesn't bring up your inhuman nature ever. You are one in the same. But that doesn't mean she won't admire your strength in her own special way. With focused eyes, she'll watch your sword set ablaze in battle, wings spread wide as you take flight and soar through the skies like a free bird.

Acheron often ponders the meaning of your relationship, as she can't fully understand what it is about her that you like so much to stay for. She isn't anything remarkable in her eyes, just a wandering soul on an endless mission, but perhaps that's just another similarity that keeps you together.

》FEIXIAO

How exactly she got you to be her partner may remain a secret to everyone, as she herself often is at a loss for words. Especially when you shower her with her so much kindness and softness, something she rarely gets to have due to her rather harsh line of work. You are the only one who gets to see her so vulnerable.

Your prowess in battle leaves her beaming with pride every time. And your true form makes her sigh in wonder. She definitely asks to train with you for hours on end, even if you obviously go easy on her. She doesn't mind, as long as she can admire your form for longer this way.

She admires your respect for the rules of mortals, and her heart warms when you bend them for her or her people. Feixiao never asks you to do so directly, but it makes her feel good to know that she is worth the love and attention of an angel in this way.

》JINGLIU

Despite never saying it out loud, she's eternally thankful for your presence in her life. You keep her bloodlust at bay and give her the peace she so deeply yearns for. You ask for nothing but her love in return, and who is she to deny a divine entity? She feels undeserving of you, yet never says a word against it. A small selfishness on her part, perhaps.

Your holy form is burned into the forefront of her mind, a strong figure that she could never defeat and never wants to even in the depths of her crazed, sick mind. The light shining off your halo filters into her eyes through the blindfold and makes her sigh in relief every time you are near her. The pain is more bearable this way.

And yet, despite this deep love you share, she knows that it will end sooner than you want to. Even you can not save her, or perhaps she doesn't want to be saved anymore. It is an unspoken fate between you, too, and she'll let you believe that bending the rules of mortality will keep her at your side for longer if it is that that makes you happy.

[syndrossi]

My town has been BLANKETED by snow which is STILL FALLING, and it's glorious. The white shock of it is just so pretty. And cold! But oh-so-pretty.

May I request a short snow-related drabble? Any verse. 🌨🌨🌨☃️🌨🌨🌨

So jealous of your blanket of snow! We've been unseasonably warm here, so pretty much all of our precipitation has been rain. BUT we are due some rain-turning-to-snow later this week! So in honor of snows past, and the snows to come, here's a short ficlet set some indeterminate time in the future (likely 6-8 months later than where we currently are in Resonant).

x~x~x

“It is snowing!”

Daemon opened bleary eyes at the accompanying quake to his bed as his younger son pounced upon it. Such early morning antics were usually more within Jon’s domain, with Rhaegar more inclined to lazy mornings, especially without lessons—and especially in the cold damp of winter at Raventree, where House Blackwood had eagerly offered to play host.

Daemon had happily indulged in the luxury of sleeping well past the normal hour for breakfast, Rhaegar a warm lump at his side while Jon went riding with Lord Blackwood’s eldest son and heir, Samwell. Even though the boy was nearly a decade Jon’s elder, his son had made fast friends with him.

“It is winter,” Daemon mumbled, debating whether to pull the blanket back over his head, but he made the mistake of catching his son’s eyes, which were bright with a joy that his more reserved son rarely showed. He sat up with a groan, and his hand was seized, his son dragging him to the window to pull back the curtains.

The ground, which had been hard and cold but bare the night before, was now blanketed in white, and heavy flakes swirled in the air, obscuring vision beyond more than a hundred feet. Wind rattled the glass panes of their window, and Daemon withheld a shudder, able to feel the cold through it, leeching the warmth of their bedchamber away.

These days he hated the cold more than almost anything, but he could remember the joy of frolicking in the snow as a child. That was the entire reason he had chosen to take the boys to the Riverlands, he reminded himself. So that they could experience the joys of snow free of the thick smoke that choked King’s Landing throughout the winter.

Daemon could remember his father playing alongside them, no less enthused about constructing grand defensive structures out of snow to crouch behind between salvos of snowballs.

“It is so beautiful,” Rhaegar murmured, looking almost mesmerized as he stared through the window. “So quiet.”

“For now,” Daemon said wryly. That would change as soon as the boys were outside. “Shall we dress and find your brother?”

Rhaegar vanished before he was even halfway through the question. Daemon dressed at a more leisurely pace, amused by how his son’s impatience shone through an unusually thin veneer of politeness. He used the time to explain the various games there were to play in the snow—in making snow dragons, and pelting one another with snow, and constructing forts of varying quality.

He knew both sons well enough to be certain that they would take such construction very seriously. The hatchlings, meanwhile, would pose an interesting complication—or element of warfare against opposing snow structures.

“Qelebrys and I can be your allies against Jon,” Rhaegar offered.

Daemon raised a brow at him in question. “That does not seem fair to your brother.”

The look he received in return was one of pity. “Trust me, an alliance is your only chance to emerge with any semblance of dignity.”

[brain4stew]

Y’know what, let me try and make a headcanon, or something out of this myself. Note to self though, that I cannot write for sh-

…. ANYWAY!

Headcanon/something under the cut! ;

• So, let’s start off by saying that, for you to be Eunoia’s bodyguard, we’ll say there’s a special skin for Guest 1337. “Yourself” skin, to be precise. (Like John Doe’s skin.)

• You and Mafioso do not know each other that well, but you both tolerate each other, due to you both working under Eunoia.

• Whenever there is an Elliot with Eunoia skin on your team, they will be highlighted for about 10-15 seconds, at the start of the round, so you can go to them, and protect them.

• (I highly suggest you immediately go find a medkit first however, as apparently… Some of your teammates are greedy for the medkits… Get one for Eunoia.)

• Let’s say that you have gotten a medkit for Eunoia, and you’re about to go back to find her, and give her the medkit. But, all of a sudden, you are being chased, by none other than… Mafioso.

• Of course, you block, punch, charge and do whatever you can, to stall the time for the others, and Eunoia. Eventually, Mafioso goes away from you, presumably to go for another survivor.

• Now’s your chance to run and find Eunoia. You’re at 57%, but you’ll be fine. Eunoia can heal you, you hope…

• Mafioso killed her… You, of course, being devastated and angry at him, you heal yourself up with the medkit you were gonna give to Eunoia.

• When you do finish healing up however, you are the last one remaining of your team, which… Of course you get reasonably annoyed, frustrated and angry about.

• You walk around and try and avoid Mafioso as much as you can, and the potential “pizza delivery”, (other members working under both Eunoia, and him).

• But, of course, he finds you. What do you do? You stall the time, yet again, and try to survive. You do get cornered time from time, but, nothing a little block and punch can handle, right?

• So wrong. He somehow manages to grab your hand, before turning you around, and pulling your arm behind your back.

• This is an unfortunate situation for you, as you know he’s most likely stronger than you. However, you wait for an opportunity to be able to break free, and escape.

• But that doesn’t happen, what does happen however, is that, he, sits down, pulling your arm behind with him. Practically setting you on his lap, as his other arm snakes around your stomach to hold you in place.

• …Seems like you’re stuck, aren’t you, little bodyguard? You wonder, why hasn’t he killed you, when he killed Eunoia. Upon remembering Eunoia dead however, you twist and turn yourself around, and practically pounce and pin Mafioso down.

• He, of course, is in shock. He didn’t expect it, nor did he think you had enough strength to do that. But, he isn’t complaining about the sudden turn of events. He strangely… Likes it. Seeing Eunoia’s bodyguard, the one he tolerated due to their boss’s decision, having HIM pinned down under them…

• But, that’s basically all that happens, for the timer runs out, and you’re both sent back to your lobbies. You, in the survivor lobby, he in the killer lobby.

• You of course, IMMEDIATELY go to find Eunoia, to help her wounds after being sent to the lobby. Who are you to ignore your boss’s wounds, and not tend to them?

• Mafioso however, he does feel guilty about killing Eunoia. But, he can’t seem to get the image of him, under you, out of his head.

• Perhaps he’ll go friendly next time it’s his turn to be killer again… He strangely misses you. And Eunoia, even though, he killed her… Yeah, he’ll go friendly next time it’s his turn again…

((NEVER. LET ME WRITE AGAIN. I DONT THINK IM MEANT FOR THIS 😞😞…))

((But anyway, hope you all like it? 😭 Uhm, any tips for writing would be appreciated, as I want to get ALL of my ideas out of my head. I think I can take requests too, however, I’ll prioritize my current list that I have written before today.))

[kuronanerd]

…cupid’s garden . ݁₊ ⊹

જ⁀➴ valentine’s special with Haru Hayate!

fluff, very slight angst, established relationship, slightly suggestive at the end if you squint, x f! reader.

a/n: this was a silly request from my bsf, so I hope she likes it. Also, I felt as if there needed to be MORE haru fics/appreciation. (All the 3 haru fans scream in joy.) But seriously, whoever sees this, enjoy, & feel free to request other characters.

The atmosphere in the air was thick and tense, almost suffocating. It was the kind which made the hairs on your neck stand up. Haru was standing across from you, a faint frown tugging at his lips as you stood in front of him, arms crossed, and a scowl adorning your features.

You had been holding everything back for weeks—the way he seemed to slip further away from you, always busy with practice, and too wrapped up in his career, leaving you waiting for whatever scraps of time he had left. Of course, you tried to be understanding, but no one likes being put aside and forgotten.

“You’re always so busy Haru.” You said, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“I understand it’s your career, for gods sakes—it’s your livelihood! but I’m tired of being set aside to sit still and look pretty for you. I’m not asking for everything, I just want you to try and make time for me, please?”

The words stung as you verbalized them, they were like salt in the wound for Haru. The pain in your voice was evident, the hurt was clinging onto your words, despite your best efforts of trying to hide it.

Haru’s gaze fell to the floor. The space between you two grew further, the silence, heavier. He absolutely hated seeing you upset, and even worse, he hated being the cause of it. He knew you were right, he had been neglecting you for soccer, and the reality of it all, crushed him. There was no excuse, no alibi he could give you, just the painful truth that he had been absent, and it had hurt you.

“I’m sorry.” Haru finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His expression softened with guilt, as his shoulders only slumped in defeat.

Haru was never the best with words, especially when it came down to his feelings. But even so, he knew you deserved more than what his lame excuse for an apology could give you. His little gestures of affection wouldn’t be enough this time, he knew that. So he made it his mission to make it up to you, by any means necessary.

“it’s just hard balancing everything…but I’ll try harder. I’ll make more time, just for you. I promise.” He didn’t know what else to say, but he meant what he said. Haru’s heart ached with the disappointment he had for himself.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat becoming unbearable. You knew Haru meant what he said, but it didn’t change the reality of the situation. It didn’t change how your bed, which was once fit for two, would only ever be occupied by one, how you would spend your nights eating at a dinner table alone, and how the empty space of it all, began to consume you. You wanted to believe him, you really did, but your frustration still hung in the air.

“That’s all I’m asking for Haru. I don’t want to compete with your career, since I know that’s a fight I’ll lose every time...”

The words left your lips, filled with raw and intense emotion, and it left a sour taste on your tongue. But there was nothing else that said from either of you, just the weight of your words echoing in Haru’s mind. His eyes watched as you walked out of the room, but he knew you needed space, he knew you needed to think, so he didn’t stop you. Instead, he began to think on how he could ever make it up to you. But would his efforts be enough? Could his actions ever fill the growing gap between you two?

—

In the days that followed, Haru found himself thinking of ways to make it up to you, and he managed to conjure up the perfect plan. Of course, It was all thanks to the small garden he had in the backyard of your home. It had always been his sanctuary, it was his place to unwind after his soccer practices, and now, it had turned into his master plan to win you over.

Haru’s love for gardening and all things botanical, was passed down to him from his grandfather. He would always share his life before the U-20’s and NEL with you. He’d tell you stories about the different kinds of plants he would tend to, his life on the farm, and how if he hadn’t gone down the path of soccer, he’d live his life dedicated to plants. He even once shared with you a dream, that if you both chose to have kids, he would also pass down his love for gardening to them, just like his grandfather did with him. That dream Haru shared with you always warmed your heart, since it gave you insight on the type of man he was.

So everyday, once Haru would get home, he’d greet you with a warm smile, obviously still giving you your space, but making an effort to shower you with as much affection as possible. He’d also find himself in the garden after hours, planting all sorts of surprises for you. His body would ache from practice and his intense stretching workouts, but it didn’t matter to him. The thought of making things right with you, pushed him forwards. He’d work quietly and deliberately, and with every pull of a weed, every stroke of his hand through the soil, his mind would wander back to you. He would think about the words you spoke to him that day, the way you pleaded with him to make an effort, to be present in your life. So he worked harder, not just in the garden but also in your relationship, making sure you finally had a bed fit for two.

Of course, this wasn’t easy for Haru. The demands of his career were constant, his schedule was always tight and unpredictable, not to mention, he hadn’t gotten a good nights sleep in days. But no matter how much his body protested, Haru couldn’t stop, you could say it was his way of rebelling against the things that caused him to stray so far away from you.

But whenever he did find himself at his wits end, he would think back on the times you would sit with him in the garden, your laughter filling the air, and the way you so perfectly complimented his flowers. He appreciated your warmth, your kindness, your patience. How you never asked him for anything expensive or extravagant, just his presence, a shared moment between you two.

And he wanted all of it back, no, he needed it back.

So as Valentine’s Day approached, Haru would finally and officially, apologize to you. He wasn’t the most romantic, not by a long shot, but he knew the things you loved, the things that mattered to you. The flowers he had planted for you with such care, over the past few weeks leading up to this day would finally become a symbol of his love towards you and his commitment to change.

The days continued to fly by, and Haru would continue to carefully select the flowers he knew you’d adore. He even made you a bouquet out of them, simple yet beautiful as ever—just like you. With every delicate petal he’d arrange, he also left meaning and love behind them, and he’d think you every step of the way.

—

When Valentine’s Day arrived, Haru was more than ready for you. Obviously, he was nervous. He didn’t know how you would react, or if this would be enough of an apology for you, but he knew he had to do it. So discreetly as ever, he went about his day, and you went about yours. ‘Both’ of you had gone to ‘work’, but little did you know, Haru had other plans. Instead, he made his way to the local corner store, and bought all types of decorations for your big surprise. It was simple really, all he did was buy the prettiest rose petals he could find, and heart shaped candles of course. Upon getting home, he immediately got to work, neatly placing them from the front door to the backyard.

He waited for you to get home, his anxiety gnawing at his confidence with every minute that passed. His heart was racing and he tried to calm his nerves, he wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, but for you, it was more than worth it. So when Haru heard the jingle of your keys, he quickly took in a deep breath, and without thinking, sprang off the couch. His fingers brushing delicately against the bouquet he had spent weeks crafting with his own hands.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed throughout the house, and Haru didn’t waste a single second. He carefully grabbed the bouquet and quickly moved to the backyard. The garden was bursting with color, and most of all, the symbol of love Haru had been working so hard on to show you. He paused for a moment, looking around at his creation, and everything was perfect.

You stepped through the front door, a tired sigh escaping your lips as the weight of the day had left you feeling drained. You placed your keys onto the entryway table, before you noticed the scattered petals on the floor. There was a trail of them and candles. It was something so simple yet beautiful. No way Haru did this, he was never the type to do some grand gesture like this. So your curiosity piqued, and you followed the path of the gorgeous trail.

You couldn’t help but smile softly, your gaze lifting to each one of the candles which flickered as they lined the way to your destination.

“Haru?” You whispered, your voice filled with curiosity.

“Where are you?”

You continued to follow the trail through the living room and out the backyard, and at first, you thought you were dreaming when you saw what was in front of you. The backyard had been completely transformed, the beautiful flowers and greenery left you completely speechless. But the best part of it all, was Haru. He was standing right in front of you, with a bouquet of flowers, but not just any flowers, your favorite flowers.

Haru walked towards you, slowly, deliberately, and quietly. Each step closer to you was filled with purpose, as if he was trying to savor each second of the moment. But once he reached you, everything else faded away, he lifted the bouquet out in front of you, and gave you the most sincere gaze.

“I’m sorry for always being so distant towards you.” Haru croaked, his voice was low, but filled with so much emotion for you.

“I know this will hardly make up for it, but I wanted to show you how dedicated I am to you. I never want to make you feel alone, ever again.”

You stood there completely stunned and speechless, as Haru’s words slowly sunk in. Words couldn’t describe how deeply you appreciated everything he had done for you. The sincerity in his eye, the care he had put into everything—it hit you right in the heart.

“Haru… this is more than enough.” You sweetly replied, your heart swelling with love.

Your hands softly reached out towards the beautiful bouquet, taking it out of his hands. Your fingers brushed against his, and it was an innocent, yet electric touch you both had been wanting. Haru’s hand gently cupped your cheek, and he met your eyes with so much warmth and love.

“This is for all the times I didn’t show you my love. I want to make things right, starting now.”

Your heart felt as if it were blossoming, and you stepped closer to Haru, wrapping your arms around him. The garden, the flowers, the emotion it all invoked in you, none of it mattered more than the feeling of standing there with him.

“I love you so much Haru.” You whispered against him, breathing in the sweet scent of his cologne.

Haru’s arms only tightened around you in response, pulling you in closer, as his lips found his way onto yours. It was a slow and tender kiss, but beneath it, was passion and a need for more. The love Haru had kept hidden all along came undone in your shared kiss. It was as if time stopped, and the only thing existing in that moment were his lips on yours. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck in hopes of getting more out of the kiss. Haru knew you well, and so, he followed your league, his hands slightly trailing lower from your hips, yet pulling you closer.

When you two finally broke away from each other, both of you were breathless, and a small giggle escaped your mouth as Haru leaned his forehead against yours. The moment hung in the air, the flowers Haru worked so hard on planting and taking care of, surrounded you.

And as Haru picked you up into his arms, placing his lips back onto yours—you knew this moment was the beginning of a new Haru Hayate.

I really hope everyone enjoyed! This is my first time ever writing a fanfic on here, so I was really nervous to post this. I’m very new to this (if you can’t already tell), so I can understand if my writing isn’t the best. But i’ll try hard with working on improving.

Once again, thank you all for reading! and till we meet again (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[siravalondulac]

pour it in a cup | j. snow x reader

summary: after the devastating wars against the white walkers and house lannister, jon is once again king in the north, and as such, is in need of a wife. how lucky, then, that tyrion lannister has a niece.

contents: arranged marriage, unrealistically quick relationship progression, she/her pronouns for reader, one use of y/n, slight non-graphic smut at the end

words: 5814

author's note: based on this request. i've also written a version with my oc here (in case you saw both and were confused, it's the same story)

masterlist | additional works masterlist

Perhaps avoiding any talk about the topic of his missing queen had not been the correct idea. He should have listened to his advisors when they spoke of marriage, of the betrothal offers from the Northern lords, of the suggestion to take a Free Folk woman as wife to unite their people. But he had been too focused on trying to deal with becoming king - again - he had brushed them all off. And this was the punishment.

He stood in the courtyard, his remaining siblings beside him, waiting anxiously for the procession to arrive. The entire castle had gathered to greet the visitors from Casterly Rock, and to catch a glimpse of their new queen.

Horns blasted, and then the first soldiers arrived.

Their red and golden armour had not changed, and neither had the lion on their banners. Fewer men than expected accompanied the party, but all of that was forgotten when you rode in.

Cersei Lannister's oldest child, who had hidden in Casterly Rock for the entire war, staying far removed from the horror the rest of them had to suffer.

You were clad in rich fabrics, a dark red dress with golden embellishments, decorated with soft furs to keep yourself warm in the cold. Yet more peculiarly, you did not travel in a wheelhouse as your mother or any of the southern ladies would have done, but sat aside on a horse, its hide as white as the snow around them.

You would become his wife. You would become his queen

Your uncle, Tyrion Lannister, jumped off his own horse and approached him. They shook hands with a smile, and Jon was glad over the lack of proper manners.

“Your Grace.” Tyrion's voice sounded amused saying the title. “I am grateful for the invitation. And that you have accepted the proposal.”

“The North needs this alliance to heal,” he repeated the words of his council. “Just as the Westerlands.”

“That we do.” He beckoned someone forward. “May I introduce your betrothed? My niece, the Princess Y/N.”

You raised your hand, and he quickly took it to lay a kiss upon your knuckles.

“My princess, I am honoured.”

“As am I, your grace.”

Your words were polite yet cold, and he realised for the first time you might want this marriage even less than him.

He tried to grasp at something to say. “May I lead you to your chambers?”

You nodded, and closed your hand around his arm.

Perhaps he should have stayed, should have greeted the other lords and ladies as well, should have held a speech - whatever was expected of a king. But he wanted time alone with his bride, wanted to spend your first moments together without dozens of eyes watching them. And so he did not feel bad as he led you into the halls of his castle.

“Uh-” He cleared his throat. “You will receive your own chambers until the wedding, in order to get used to everything. Afterwards you will move into the Lord's chambers with me.”

You nodded, and said nothing.

You passed the main hall, where a wooden throne now eternally stood high above the rest.

“It must be strange,” he said, “being back here after all these years.”

You chuckled. “Strange indeed. The last time I was here, my family was still alive. Now there is only my uncle and me, the dwarven king and the forgotten princess.”

Your voice had become biting, accusatory. And he supposed you had a point.

“I apologise.” He did not dare look at you. “These last years must have been difficult.”

“They sent me away and never came for me,” you answered far too quickly. As if you had prepared it. “I am loyal to the Stark crown and will do my duty by it.”

He did not try to initiate another conversation until you had reached your chambers. And even then, the few words he spoke were only to inform you that a servant would be with you shortly. You seemed as if you wanted to tell him something - a thank, a question, a demand to leave you alone until the wedding the coming week - yet closed the door before any such thing could happen.

You tried to forget him. Tried to ignore the reality of the situation whenever the thought passed your mind. Which was nonsense, you knew. But it was easier than facing the fact you would be marrying a total stranger in just a few, short days.

That first night, Winterfell held a feast to welcome you, and to introduce the castle and the entire North to their new queen.

Despite what would be expected of you, and despite knowing you would have to adhere to your betrothed's customs soon, you had decided on a blood red gown for the evening, while a golden tiara decorated your intricately braided hair.

One last desperate attempt to cling to your heritage. To not lose what remained of your family.

King Jon Stark already awaited you at the doors to the feast hall, clad in yet another set of black and brown leathers and a fur-lined cloak, this time, however, with a spiked iron crown on top of his dark curls.

He smiled at you, you smiled back, then you took his extended arm, and entered.

The few spots of red and gold were drowned out in a sea of Northmen, all staring at you. Judging you. None of them wanted a tyrant's daughter as their queen, a foreigner, an enemy. Neither did you, but what else was left for you in this world? You were your uncle's heir, yet only until he sired his own children. And afterwards, you would have nothing.

Best accept this marriage. It was certainly the best you could get.

King Jon held a short speech once they stood in front of their seats, thanking first his lords for joining him for this most wonderful occasion, then your uncle for brokering this much needed alliance between their kingdoms, and lastly you. For agreeing.

You smiled and curtsied, and hastily removed your hand from his arm once you were seated.

The food was agreeable, the ale not too bitter, and the constant chattering and even shouting from the wildlings bearable. You had to get used to all this, you reminded yourself, especially to the presence of the man beside you.

Jon, to his credit, had not tried to strike up a conversation yet, though the glances he threw in your direction burned on your skin. You would have to look at him eventually, you knew as much. Touch him, even. Lay with him. Perhaps speaking to him now might soften that experience later on.

But he was drawn into a conversation with your uncle before you could decide.

Sansa sat on your other side, beside her brother and two others you did not recognise. You grasped at something to say - something easy, and far removed from the terrors your families had inflicted on each other.

“I like your dress,” you said carefully, not daring to fully look into Sansa's face.

It was true, you did like her gown - dark blue and simple, with an intricately embroidered wolf just above her heart.

“Thank you. I made it myself a few years ago. I had too much on my hands to sew a completely new gown simply for this feast.”

“You enjoy making them yourself, I take it?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation going. “The last time I was here, you were so proud of what you made, it was all you could talk about for an entire course.”

“And all you could talk about was King's Landing, and how much I would like it there.”

Perhaps Sansa tried to start an argument, to find any excuse to convince her brother to break off the betrothal. Perhaps she wanted to guilt you into admitting fault for your family's actions. Or perhaps that was simply the only thing she remembered from that evening.

“I am sorry.” You stared at the rings on your fingers. “I should have warned you about Joffrey.”

You had been sent to Casterly Rock not long after the outbreak of the war - for safekeeping, so that the Baratheon crown could live on through you should disaster strike the rest of your family - but you had still witnessed the beginnings of your brother's cruelty towards Sansa.

“You couldn’t have known what he would do.”

“I grew up beside him. I knew him longer and better than most. What he did to you… I could have prevented it.”

“He would have punished you as well, had you tried.”

Jon had joined some of wildings further into the hall, and you could almost understand their words and cheers from your place at the main table, such was the volume they were speaking at. He looked comfortable with them.

“Your brother…” You hesitated. “What is he like?”

Your eyes stayed on him, even when Sansa eventually answered.

“He will not mistreat you, if that is what you fear.”

“No. I mean-” You chuckled half-heartedly. “That is all anyone tells me about him. He is good, he is kind, he is brave. It all sounds rather dull.”

“He was a bastard, then a brother of the Night's Watch. He still thinks he is undeserving of the crown, even though the Northerners have pronounced him their king twice now. He has already fought in more battles than most will in their entire lifetime. Such a thing is known to leave one scarred and withdrawn. Give him time, he will warm up to you eventually.”

Jon joined your side again after a while, with red cheeks and a small grin on his lips. Yet when he noticed your stare, he swallowed, shook his head slightly, and it had disappeared.

You almost wanted to tell him how cute it had looked.

“I am rather tired from the long ride,” you said instead. “Would it be terribly impolite by Northern customs to leave already?”

“No, not at all.” He stood up and offered you his arm. “Let me accompany you to your chambers.”

Conversations died when you passed.

The cold air hit you the moment you stepped out into the quiet of the night, and you could not stop the noticeable shiver running down your back, nor the slight shaking of your arms. You clenched your jaw and prepared yourself for an uncomfortable walk, when a cloak was suddenly laid around your shoulders.

Confused, you looked towards Jon.

“I apologise about the cold. I suppose it will take a while to fully get used to it.”

Then he realised he still had his hands laid on your arms, and he hastily dropped them, taking a step back for good measure.

You pulled the fabric tighter around yourself.

“Thank you, your grace.”

You did not touch each other again on the walk to your rooms, and you did not mind at all. Welcomed it, in fact. You would be forced to endure his hands soon enough, there was no reason to invite them sooner.

You thought about saying something once you reached your door - a thank, a question, an invitation to spend the following day with you. Yet all you did was hand him back his cloak, whisper a quick “Good Night”, and quickly close the door behind you.

Be gentle with her. She has gone through a lot.

Tyrion's words echoed in his mind as he made his way to your chambers.

Your distance at the feast last night had surely been noted, he knew it had. Certain Northern lords - Manderly, Umber - were already looking for any excuse to oppose this marriage, he could not provide them with more reasons. You two would be seen conversing happily, spending time together, kissing if necessary. They would not punish you for his misgivings.

He knocked on your door, waited, and assumed for a moment you would ignore him, when he suddenly heard steps. Slow, careful, yet still. His back straightened on its own, and then you stood before him.

A soft green dress draped your body. Simple, without much embroidery, jewels, frills, or lace. Just a lone necklace hung around your neck.

You looked… beautiful.

“Your Grace.” You quickly pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Is something the matter?”

“No, I-” The light caught in your hair. He cleared his throat. “I was planning to check on the castle, make sure everything is working as intended. Would you like to accompany me?”

Best make you believe you would not put unnecessary burdens on his shoulders by agreeing to this walk, but simply to join what he was already doing.

Still… Even despite his efforts, you seemed ready to decline. Your fingers tightening in your dress, the trembling of your lips, the terror in your eyes-

“Yes.”

You quickly had a cloak slung around your shoulders and your hand around his arm, and so you set off.

Jon knew, of course, that you had only agreed because you were aware of your situation, much like him, and that you needed to play the game in order to survive. Your mother had taught you much.

Your walk through the castle led you past the kitchens, the feast halls, the smithery, the stables, the sept, the glass gardens. He explained everything as well as he could - what lead where, who worked where, whom you should talk to when faced with a problem. All while staring ahead, seldom sending a gaze your way.

You listened, nodded, smiled. You curtsied when encountering ladies and servants alike, picked up a stray flower you found in one of the hallways. And yet you also rarely spoke a word. Just a question here and there, a greeting, a polite agreement. A pretty thing on his arm.

Perhaps you were hiding. Perhaps this was simply who you were.

You walked through a door and outside, ending up on the pathways surrounding the training yard.

Northmen and wildlings sparred side-by-side, laughing and joking despite their thousands of years of animosity. Some had said their blossoming friendship was due to him - the man who had died to bring innocents south of the Wall - but he knew they attributed far too much to him. Facing death itself was enough to unite even the greatest of foes.

“Are they all living at Winterfell?”

He shook his head, then remembered you likely weren't looking at him. “No, they are not. Most of them are lords and their entourages, who will leave after the wedding. The wildlings are visiting as well, they are merely here to strengthen our alliance.”

His eyes wandered towards you for a short moment, to glance at you, see if you might express anything but polite interest. And… yes, perhaps that was indeed a small smile on your lips, and a sparkle in your eyes as you watched the children chase each other with sticks and wooden swords.

“I remember the last time I was here,” you said, lost in thought. “My brothers sparred with yours. Tommen was still far too young, so his fighting was more mindless stumbling in a set of armour that didn't quite fit him.”

“Do you miss your siblings?”

You nodded.

You continued your walk around the castle until you ended up in front of your chamber again.

“Thank you for accompanying me,” he said.

“Thank you for letting me.”

Then the door was shut before him once again.

After an eternity of walking circles in your room, you had grabbed a blanket, a book, and hidden in a secluded spot in the glass gardens. Surrounded by flowers and vines that, if you squinted, reminded you at least a little of your home, you had finally felt at ease.

Walking around the castle the previous day had been gruelling. Everyone had stared, knowingly, judgingly, as if they blamed you for your family's crimes, for the dire state the North had been beaten into. And the worst thing was…

You didn't blame them.

Time passed in the safe space you had crafted for yourself, amidst the moondusts and dragon’s breaths and coldsnaps, lost in the words of your book.

Then steps drew near.

In your haste to jump off the cushioned bench, you threw over a flower pot, sending it tumbling to the ground. The bench almost tipped backwards, and you only narrowly kept it from crashing into the glass behind it.

No one could see you here. This was not your place, not your home, not yours to enjoy. You should have stayed locked away, deep inside the halls of Winterfell, with a dozen guards to line the way. Here there was no one. Just you. Alone.

If one of the lords found you here… You had seen their eyes the previous days, the glances and stares sent your way. Full of hatred. Lust. You knew them all - their meaning, their consequences. They would mean to punish you for what your family had done to them, and perhaps even find a way to stop this alliance and keep the king from wanting you. You needed to get away from here, back to your rooms, far away-

“Princess? Is everything alright?”

Jon stood amongst the plantlife, dressed in another set of black leathers. He looked down at you, concern etched across his face as he watched your hunched over form, kneeling in the dirt.

“Yes. Yes, everything is alright.” You stumbled over your words. “I- I apologise for this mess. I will clean it up right away and then-”

“Let me help you.”

His hands were calm, strong, cold as they brushed yours. He quickly had the flower pot - not broken, thank the gods - back on its pedestal, and helped you brush the dirt together.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“You would not believe the amount of things I have almost destroyed in this castle.” His chuckle reverberated in your chest, the sound low yet warm and inviting, and something shifted inside you.

“I doubt anyone would have noticed. Winterfell is even more contorted than Casterly Rock.”

And then he laughed, and you wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it locked away close to your heart.

“Maybe you could show it to me one day. After you have gotten used to your new life.”

You knew you should agree with him, tell him he need not be worried, and that you would be the nice and pleasing wife he desired. Yet something about your current position - sitting on the ground so close next to each other, your fingers mere breaths apart, staring into his dark eyes - made you whisper, “I don’t know if I ever will.”

He cocked his head. “Why would you say that?”

“Just look at me. I don’t belong here - I don’t belong anywhere. Your lords know that, and you would be much more suited marrying one of their daughters. Not the child of a foreign tyrant.”

Jon looked at you, eyes fluttering across your face, your body, your dress, seemingly trying to find an answer to the questions mounting in his head. You turned your head away, yet he quickly caught your chin with his fingers, and forced you to meet his gaze again.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

His breath brushed across your cheek, his lips so close to yours you felt the heat radiating off them.

“After our wedding,” you whispered, “I want you to stop lying to me. I get enough of that pity from my uncle.”

And so you quickly stood up, and ran away.

You had stayed hidden in your room since your interaction the previous day. Or perhaps, simply stayed hidden from him.

He was slowly running short on ideas to make you warm up to him. Nothing, it seemed, that he said or did made you more comfortable around him, nothing caused you to open up to him, nothing led to you seeking him out.

Perhaps he should give up. Commit himself to a sad, lonely life, with an emotionless shell of a person beside him, until the cold finally returned to claim him once more. Perhaps it was what he deserved.

He sat up in his bed; slowly, breathing laboured, skin covered in sweat. The chamber was still wrapped in darkness, with only a sliver of the moon’s silver light falling past the drapes. He buried his face in his hands, then quickly stood up, slipped into a tunica and some boots, and disappeared into Winterfell’s deserted hallways.

No one was awake during this time of the night. The most he would ever encounter during his semi-regular walks around his castle was a stray rat, or a cat running after it.

Ghost had joined him at some point, trotting by his side like a white shadow, the fur cold and soft underneath his scarred hand. He was glad for his direwolf, glad for the quiet company, glad to not be alone in the darkness. Then he stepped on one of the walkways overlooking the main courtyard, and almost had his breath knocked out of him.

A soft breeze wafted through your hair, open for the very first time in his presence, the moonlight illuminating the strands and making them appear almost silver. Despite the freezing cold you wore no cloak, just a simple, dark blue dress that hugged your frame.

You looked… ethereal.

Your blue eyes settled onto him, and he nearly stumbled backwards.

“I- I apologise. I will leave-”

“No.” Your gaze settled on the yard beneath you once again. “It’s alright.”

He slowly, carefully walked towards you, yet made sure to stop a good distance away from you, and then followed your gaze into the abandoned courtyard. Usually brimming with life, now dark and empty.

“I apologise about my behaviour yesterday,” you almost said in a whisper. “You were merely trying to be nice towards your betrothed, and I should not have run away.”

“I understand why you did, and do not hold it over your head.” He buried his fingers into the frost-covered banister.

You stood there, in uncomfortable silence afterwards, neither knowing what to say, if to say anything.

“I suppose…” you said, then hesitated. “My mother sent me away and never came for me. Even as my siblings started dying, even after your brother had been killed, even after my uncles had been defeated, she left me at Casterly Rock, never sending a letter, never visiting. Then she crowned herself queen, and the only way I found out was because my uncle turned up after the war to tell me. And to tell me she had died, and that the Seven Kingdoms were no more.” She took a shaky breath. “I fear that if I trust someone again, they will do the same.”

He had had no idea- He had always thought you had hid in Casterly Rock, looking down upon them as they were slaughtered on battlefields. That you had been essentially held captive had never once crossed his mind as a possibility.

Be gentle with her. She has gone through a lot.

“I am not your mother. You will never experience anything like it again, I swear it.”

Ghost eventually left his side and took a few careful steps towards you, sniffing at your hand, bumping his nose into your arm. And even though Jon had seen you ride in on a horse, had seen your eyes, hard as ice, staring at anyone daring to get too close to you, it still took him by surprise when you did not move back in fear, instead slowly starting to let your fingers glide through his white fur. All while failing at hiding the smile gracing your lips.

He wished you would smile like this at him. Some day, perhaps.

“I remember them from my last visit,” you said. “Though this one has grown quite a lot during this time.”

“His name is Ghost.”

“Ghost.” You chuckled. “An apt name. And I think you agree as well.” You ruffled the direwolf’s fur.

“You changed as well. You grew taller, and your hair has gotten longer as well. Back then you looked just like your mother, but I can’t say you share much resemblance with her now.”

The words had tumbled out of him, and he regretted them as soon as he closed his mouth. What had gotten him to say all this?

Then, into the silence, you whispered, “I don’t remember you at all.”

Your smile had faded, replaced by the constant state of terrified impassiveness he had gotten so used to seeing on you.

“I do not blame you. I was a lowly bastard, and you part of the royal family. Our paths could have never crossed, even had we wanted to.”

“And yet you remember me.” You looked down into the courtyard. “Likely remember me walking out of that wheelhouse beside my mother, and smiling at your brother, and talking to your sister, and decorating myself with all that useless frivolity, still so deep in the belief that my life would have some meaning.”

“Then perhaps it is time you create those memories of me.”

Something that was far more beautiful than you trying to hide your smile was you trying to hide your grin. And perhaps, if the sun had been out during your conversation, he would have seen pink bloom on your cheeks.

All week, the castle had been busy preparing for the wedding. Your wedding. The one that would make you queen of a strange and alien kingdom.

You had stayed away, as well as you could - while you still could. After tomorrow, you would be expected to act as their queen, no matter how little you knew your people.

Pacing up and down your chambers had become something of a favourite pastime of yours. Not that you liked it, of course, but you did not dare step foot out of the door on your own, without one of the Starks to accompany you. Defend you against the disapproving stares.

A knock on your door.

You had expected everything, except for King Jon to stand on its other side, a wooden box and a book in his hands.

“May I come in?”

You could not quite forbid your betrothed from walking around his castle, so you stepped aside without a word and closed the thick wooden door behind him.

“I wanted to talk with you about tomorrow,” he said quickly. Either because he did not want to stay in your presence any longer than necessary, or because he was nervous.

You nodded, indicating to him to continue.

“There will not be a bedding ceremony. I have been to Northern weddings before, and approximately know when they happen. We will leave before then.”

You could barely comprehend his words. He could not truly mean-

“Why?”

“I- You will be my wife and queen, and I want my lords to respect you. I don't want their first real interaction with you to be… touching you inappropriately.”

He was seemingly embarrassed by his own words, and if you were not currently talking about the prospect of your wedding night, you might even say it was cute.

“I… thank you.” You tugged at the sleeves of your gown. “But I doubt it would change anything. I am an outsider, whether or not they undress me tomorrow will not change how they see me.”

He then, quite strangely, handed you the book he had been carrying. “But this might.”

Justice and Injustice in the North. You had been reading the tome in the glass gardens two days past, and had forgotten it there in your desperate attempt to escape Jon.

You looked up, and met his dark, endless eyes.

“You are learning about the North,” he said. “Not simply its people, but its laws and customs as well.”

“It's the least I can do.”

“See? Not even married to me and you are already taking your role as future queen of these lands seriously.”

Then he offered you the wooden box, opened the latch, and revealed a simple iron crown. Much like his own, yet this one had a small ruby etched into the front.

“You do not have to wear this tomorrow,” he said. “But you can, if you wish. I will force you to nothing.”

You nodded slightly, took the box, and carried it and the book towards one of the cupboards.

“I assume that will be all?”

You could not remain in the same room with him for any longer, could not stand to remain in vicinity to this man who had been treating you so kindly at no benefit to himself.

“Actually… There is one more thing.”

Jon gently turned you towards him, laying his fingers underneath your chin to urge you to meet his eyes. The moonlight fell through the window beside you, bathing him into a soft, silver light that illuminated his black curls.

“We will be watched for the rest of our lives. Nothing will remain secret, each of our actions needing to ensure prosperity for the North and all who live here. I am certain that tomorrow, even if we manage to escape the ceremony, someone will ensure we have consummated our union. So, if you are willing, I want this one, simple thing to be just ours.”

His lips had gotten so close to yours, a mere hair's breadth apart, and you could once again feel the immense heat radiating off it.

You could refuse, you knew. If you told him no, he would accept your answer, and leave. Yet his words echoed inside you, and you knew them to be true.

And so, instead of whispering that dreaded word, you simply closed the space between you, and sealed your lips in a kiss.

A week ago, Jon would have never thought he would feel so at ease standing before the heart tree in Winterfell's godswood, you before him in a blinding white gown and with the iron crown of winter upon your hair, speaking the vows that would bind you. But he was glad the day had come. And he was glad you were the woman he would share eternity with.

The ceremony, the brief kiss, and the feast passed by him in a breeze, his wife's hand in his the only thing grounding him.

His wife.

He would need some time to get used to that word.

You looked even more radiant than you had the previous night, cloaked in the silver light filling your room, with red lips swollen from your kiss. He was barely able to keep his eyes off you.

(A part of him desperately hoped his lords noticed.)

And then the moment came. The guests in the feast hall either too distracted or too drunk to pay the pair of you any real mind, so his fingers tightened around yours, and he pulled you upward, through the servant's entrance behind the high table, and down Winterfell's corridors.

His quick steps had turned into a run at some point, and your giggles echoed off the stone walls.

Then you entered his chambers, and you went quiet.

“I-” He swallowed. “I know what I said yesterday, but we do not have to do this today if you do not want to. There is no pressure on us to-”

“No. Let us get through this.”

You took off your crown and cloak, laid both of them on a chair, and then started unlacing your dress. Eyes lowered, half-turned away from him.

Carefully, he stepped up towards you, and laid his hands on yours. And then, when you looked up and met his gaze, eyes sparkling in the fire of the candles around you, he laid his lips on yours without hesitation.

Your previous two kisses - one in your chambers, one at the ceremony earlier in the evening - had been chaste. Short and sweet, yes, but over far too quickly, and without ever providing him with the opportunity to feel you. Now he allowed himself to move deeper, to touch your body, explore your mouth with his, trace the lines of your dress, hear your pretty gasps. And you accepted. Melted into him, almost.

Until he touched the laces at your back.

He pulled back, heart beating in his chest so loudly he feared you might hear.

“If you wish to stop at any point…”

You nodded. “I know.”

To alleviate at least some of your fears, he started undressing, willing to bare himself and that what he feared most to stop your trembling hands. And they did, yet only once he had gotten rid of his blouse.

You stared at the scars on his chest. Carefully, you lifted a hand and let it hover above them. He made no move to stop you, only watching your confused eyes as your fingers traced his skin.

(He did not look down. Would not dare.)

“What-” Your voice broke. “What happened?”

“I was betrayed. They’re all dead now.”

He left it at that, and you did not inquire any further.

Eventually, even your last clothes fell to the ground, your lips once again locked into a kiss as he picked you up and carried you to the bed.

His hands explored your body slowly, gliding across your breasts, your stomach, your legs. And once you stopped twitching away, he let his mouth follow that same path. First kissing your breasts, then your stomach, then your legs, and then your core.

He listened to your gasps and your moans to find out what you liked, and what you loved. Your body reacted, as if on its own, to every single one of his touches, to the movements of his tongue, the crooking of his fingers, and when you finally peaked, he took everything you offered him.

Then he wandered upwards again, sealing your lips in a kiss. Your fingers got tangled up in his hair, pulls and tugs eliciting groans from his mouth that you swallowed as soon as they spilled across his lips.

He entered you as gently as he could, stopping shortly when you buried your nails into his shoulder. Once your hips sat flush against each other, and he had looked into your eyes, he started moving. Your back arched at his thrusts, and you swung your leg around his waist to encourage him to speed up. He followed your commands without hesitation.

You peaked again, and he followed shortly afterwards, spilling inside of you and sealing your union.

You laid in his bed afterwards, tangled up, pressed against each other, your heartbeats echoing the other, yearning to beat in tandem.

He would be alright. Perhaps you  would never love each other, but you would be friends, and he decided that ruling side by side with someone he trusted was everything he needed.

[adapertiones]

(Alt Text: Tragibox Lore Resource Masterpost. Archives, official links, fan docs, etc...) Guess who accidentally deleted it when they were going to edit something... yeah.

Thought this would be treasured by others as much as it is by me. Wherever my hyperfixation takes me to learn is for me to share!!!

If you have any additions, feel free to send them to me so I can add them! Also don't doubt about telling me if any of the links happen to be broken or if anything is incorrectly linked!

⚠️ Some things to keep in mind:

Tragibox Lore is currently being rewritten by the new owner of the project, Ruby Waters. Some things might get changed!

Breakthrough bonuses are fanmade.

Official Orin Ayo Lore Doc (Wayback Machine Link): Might be a bit laggy on phone. Try not to touch the text too much because it sends you to refresh the page (HAPPENED MANY TIMES...). There's a missing picture of Acheture Blunt's appearance before death but I managed to dig around a little and find it! It's currently on the lore archive below.

Tragibox Lore Archive Masterdoc: A document by me. Archives the official lore doc, in-game profiles (in progress), discord lore questions answered and some other things. My directory basically!!! Don't request editing access. Note: When opening in a mobile browser, check "desktop size/browser view" to be able to see the images better, otherwise they will look blurry.

Official Tragibox Discord Server: Activity varies a lot but very fun! There is interesting lore material around and you can ask lore questions. Might serve to track the progress of the project in the future! Also good to interact with other Tragibox fans. Special shout-out to whoever sent me the invite link through strawpage when I asked for it, you're a real one sob sob...

Tragibox Archive by Smugg/Pk Freeze: HTML version of Tragibox games saved plus a bit of lore information screenshoted~

Orin Ayo Wiki: Take some of the things here as a grain of salt, information tends to be changed by users and is usually not backed by sources. Lore related note; don't take the info in character profiles in Orin Ayo as the 100% truth, as most of that information can be manipulated by cultists~

Extra to Orin Ayo Wiki: Paige's Wiki Page

Breakthrough Wiki: Same thing as the Orin Ayo Wiki. This time, character info can be trusted a little more, most of it is written directly by Sol but there are some cases of unknown characters or Dave writting them (Dave's logs have his signature) Using this little space to add that I'm currently working on a document analysing some elements on Tragibox from a more scientific point of view~ For now it is just a very rough WIP bit will be added to this list once it is done.