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sl-ut · 1 month ago

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princess of the north

in case i dont end up posting again over the holidays, i just wanna say i hope everyone has a great holiday season and a very very happy new year!!!!

pairing: cregan stark x fem!targtower!pregnant!reader

description: cregan has grown older and happier throughout his years as warden of the north with his beautiful new wife at his side. however, when he married into the royal family, he had not considered how frequently he would need to interact with his in-laws.

warnings: NO DANCE AU!!! (rhaenyra ascends the throne peacefully), weird blend of book and show timeline, slight description of character (silver hair, purple eyes, that’s it!!!), smut, reader gets pregnant like halfway through, pregnancy sex, oral, piv, SEX IN FRONT OF A FIREPLACE ON A BEARSKIN RUGGGG oml

words: 9.7K

date posted: 10/12/24

The winter had been very forgiving, thank the gods. It had been remarkably short, just under eight years in total, meaning that it had come to a close with plenty of food still in storage and northerners who were more than willing and able to transition into the oncoming summer with ease.

Winterfell was left in a generally stable state, aside from the fact that there was a greater need for livestock now that they not only had an additional mouth to feed, but also a fully grown dragon who resided in a make-shift dragonpit only a few minutes ride beyond the walls of the castle–a wedding gift that the Lord of Winterfell had prepared in anticipation of his new wife’s arrival. Otherwise, the North seemed to be in greater shape upon the dawn of this new summer than it had in all of Cregan’s years.

The greatest of Cregan’s accomplishments, of course, was his new wife. At the beginning of the winter, he had not expected that he would be married by the end of it, but with the arrival of Prince Jaeaerys on his official tour of the realm also came his proposal of marriage between Lord Cregan and his own aunt, the youngest daughter of the late King Viserys I and his second wife, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower. He had been hesitant to consider this offer–he’d never met the woman, which was not uncommon for marriages of such high status, but he’d been fortunate enough to have been able to form some sort of friendship with his late wife prior to their union. Jace had brought along with him the terms offered by his mother, in her own hand, of course, as well as a portrait of the woman in question.

Cregan was not above admitting how taken he’d been with the sight of the princess, even if it were only a recreation of her beauty on canvas. He’d heard of her beauty before, it was rumoured around the realm, but seeing it was entirely different, a sort of beauty he could not have imagined on his own.

“Tell me, my prince,” Cregan asked him, hardly drawing his crystal blue gaze away from the portrait, “you are her blood and have grown up with the princess, is this painting to her likeness?”

Jacaerys smirked, “Of course, Lord Stark. My aunt is known to be one of the most beautiful women ever to live.”

Cregan pursed his lips. He was aware of the strange customs of the Targaryens, having married brother to sister and uncle to niece for generations. Jacaerys could be speaking the truth, for he himself could hold some sort of affection for his aunt, but Cregan did not suspect as such. Intead, his greater question was whether Jacaerys could be lying to him out of political gain; as his mother’s envoy, it would do him no good to suggest that the artist had not accurately painted her. Her looks were of no concern to him, but he valued honour and truth over all else. If they were attempting to attract him to the deal by portraying the princess as such a beauty over anything else, he would be personally insulted to discover that he’d been lied to, a snub from the royal family would not be taken kindly by House Stark.

“What say you?” Cregan turned to the group of men standing just to the left of the prince, all who seemed alarmed at Lord Stark’s attention being turned to them, “How do each of you vouch for the princess?”

The men, one at a time, attested to the princess’s beauty until he stood before the smallest and visibly youngest of the men.

“And you, lad?”

“I’m afraid the portrait fails to depict the princess, milord,” The boy grew rosy in the cheeks as he imagined the princess in his mind, eyes drawing towards the portrait, “That is her, yes, but only as close as the Master Holbein could have made it, for I do not think it possible to recreate such beauty. She is gifted by the gods, surely, milord, both in beauty and manner. She is kind, brings food and toys to orphans in Flea Bottom and ev’rything, milord.”

Cregan, taken aback by the answer from the youngest boy, turned back to Prince Jacaerys, who seemed equally as surprised as he did pleased with the answers of his men.

“This is true, milord,” Jace said, “the princess is known among the people for her generosity, among her other talents and traits. It cannot be denied that her mother, the Queen Dowager, was not fond of my family, nor us of her, but the princess was raised better than any of us, I would say. Take the night to think on it, I would hope to send word to the queen before I leave Winterfell at noon.”

Cregan did as instructed, thinking on it long and hard. Her beauty had been their main selling point, something that could not be denied from the portrait sent of her. Lord Stark had half a mind to hang it upon the mantle in his bedchambers whether he takes her to wife or not, but it was not her beauty that had truly swayed his decision. Instead, he thought over the young lad’s words; a southern lady scarcely thrives in the North, a nation nearly as large on its own as all of the remaining six kingdoms put together. The weather was harsh, and the people were harsher, something he could not imagine a Targaryen princess handling well. However, he’d heard of Alicent Hightower’s assertiveness and ability to lead while her husband was incapable and Rhaenyra was in Dragonstone. If what Jacaerys had told him was true, the princess would be dutiful and loyal, and according to the prince’s men, kind beyond words. Beauty may have factored into his decision on a personal level, but he also met the prince the next morning with his acceptance mostly on the basis that he believed that the princess would be wholly capable of helping him rule the North.

He wrote to her a week after Jacaerys departed from Winterfell, certain that the news would have already arrived in the capitol and she would already be aware of their arrangement. He would have little time between her arrival in the north and their wedding to meet with her in private, so this was his best hope. He was pleased to receive a raven in return only three days later, neat handwriting befitting a princess scrawled across the parchment. It was not much, but Cregan was able to learn some things about her through the letters, making it seem like he was less-so marrying a stranger and more as if she were a distant friend.

The month following, the princess would depart from King’s Landing in a procession he was told seemed a mile long. He waited with anticipation, Winterfell in a flurry of servants and guards to prepare the castle to house the royal family and their household, as well as for the wedding itself, and only one more month would pass before his bride had arrived within the walls of Winterfell.

Cregan had bowed respectfully to the Queen Dowager as she stepped out of her wheelhouse, then to the two silver-haired princes who arrived on their steeds. His eyes scanned the growing crowd for any sight of his betrothed, finally catching sight of her as she took the hand of a Dornish white cloak to balance herself as she exited the wheelhouse, a pretty white fur-lined cloak wrapped around her shoulders, almost blending into the pale blonde of her hair. She was, indeed, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had traditional Valyrian looks, but also held an aura of softness.

She was nervous as she curtsied before her, but seemed happy enough with his appearance and manners as he greeted her with a kiss to her leather-gloved knuckle. The moment was broken apart by her mother’s level tone, requesting to be brought to her chambers for some rest before supper. That evening Cregan found the portrait of the princess that he’d received months earlier and personally hung it above the mantle in his bedchambers. He thought it was safe to say he was smitten.

The princess appeared bashful in his presence, though he was partially certain that her discomfort was brought on by her ever-present family, each looming nearby as if waiting to intercept his attempts of conversation with his betrothed. He could not decide who he had grown to loathe the most; Aegon had already drank a generous portion of Winterfell’s wine cellars even before the wedding, and often joined the conversation with the goal to tease his sister and see her shrink in embarrassment; Aemond was constantly looking to best anyone in his path, and seemed almost possessive over his sister’s attention; her mother had hardly allowed them a moment alone, constantly insisting on supervising any time that he would invite her for any sort of activity, or set one of her brothers after them instead. Alicent had a habit of speaking for her daughter, meaning that Cregan had no opportunity to truly know her while her mother was present, while her brothers made it impossible to even speak to one another at all.

He was finally glad on their wedding night, when he’d arranged the head table to be broken into three, leaving the happy couple to sit above the rest and finally receive some alone time. She had been radiant in her gown of white furs and fleeces, meeting him beneath the weirwood tree with her eldest brother at her side to give her away. He’d been glad to tear away the cloak of red and black, intricately interwoven into a field of green and gold at the bottom–it would be unlike Alicent Hightower to allow her children to wear the Rhaenyra’s colours without her own as well. It would be hard to tell whether she looked prettier in the harsh colours of her maiden cloak or in the dull ones of his own, but he couldn’t help but note how greys and blues suited her better than he could have imagined.

He could tell her family was less than pleased with this arrangement, making an effort to step in for every miniscule matter that caught their attention. Cregan watched her from the corner of her eye as she shakily took a long drink from her cup. He finally found time to chat with his wife, slowly watching in awe as her walls slowly began to come down as she found herself giggling along with him and whispering into his ear.

“What of the leftovers?” She’d asked, breaking their previous conversation topic.

“Leftovers?” Cregan repeated.

She nodded, staring at him with wide eyes expectantly, “The food. There will be plenty of leftovers–they should be brought to the nearest towns.”

“Is that a command, princess?”

She appeared bashful at his response, walls slowly building back up around her, “I-I- My apologies, Lord Stark, I–”

He grinned at her playfully, his large palm cupping her cheek affectionately, “If you wish it, you shall have it. I intend to make you very happy, my love.”

She smiled, her beauty shining through even stronger as she became more and more comfortable around him, “Thank you, husband.”

Cregan pushed himself to stand, the sound of his chair pushing back cutting through the chatter and music and laughter filling his hall, all eyes turning to him expectantly.

“My lady wife has made her first official command as Lady of Winterfell,” his voice carried through the hall with stern ease, and the attention of the crows quickly turned to her, “Lady Stark has decided that all leftovers from our wedding feast will be donated to the people of Winterstown.”

The crowd had been quick to applaud, deafening cheers throughout the great hall, northerners seemingly pleased with her decision or, at the very least, just excited to have another reason to be celebrating. He caught the glance she sent to her mother, and the happy grin that covered her face as the Dowager Queen sent her a sign of approval. His lady wife was kind, and sweet, and he was certain that, once she gained her footing in the North, would serve as a strong and dutiful Lady of Winterfell, all of which he muttered into her ear as he had her for the very first time that night.

Three years would pass, he’d been right to assume such things of his wife. He’d quickly discovered that she was able to thrive without the looming shadow of her mother and brothers. She had been slow to find her footing in the beginning, some of his bannermen even questioning his choice in wife, but she was determined to prove them wrong, and in doing so, warmed Cregan’s heart even more.

They’d discussed children in the past, and both had decided that they were happy enough with Cregan’s son from his previous marriage for the time being. They were not trying, but they were also not not trying, which is how she found herself swelling with her first child just as winter came to an end. Her husband had been insatiable in their first year of marriage, but once he knew that she carried his child in her belly, there was scarcely anything that could stop him from having her each and every night.

Summer brought a homier feeling to Winterfell. People were not quite so afraid or negative as the desolate conditions faded away. Summer in the North was nothing compared to the many summers she had spent in King’s Landing, where she had once enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her skin, exposed beneath her more revealing gowns than those she was able to wear in the North; the lords of the North had criticised her choice in dresses early on in her marriage, and she had no doubt that their wives spoke harshly about her in her absence. She was by far the youngest of them, and was also the only one who could afford to wear such fine silks layered over her thick fleece and fur underdresses. Cregan knew better than to try and argue against his wife’s will–Lady Stark or not, she was a Targaryen princess through and through, and now that he had helped her build up her confidence, there was no way he was about to take that away from her (especially when she looked so so beautiful). She was thankful that she was able to cut down on the layers she needed now that the weather had transitioned from inhospitable to frigid, though she knew it was coming time to transition her wardrobe as well now that her breasts and belly were beginning to swell.

The change in season also brought a wave of new duties. Winter was undoubtedly the most difficult and busy season for the lord and lady of Winterfell, but the transition to summer also brought the beginning of the agricultural season. Farmers and fishermen alike flocked to Winterfell to speak their needs and wants to their liege lord and lady, and Cregan found himself busy with attending to the replenishment of all of the North’s resources for Winterfell, all of his bannermen, the Wall, and all of the towns in the North. He’d made his wife agree to take a lesser load of duties now that she was expecting, dealing with issues within their own household so he could instead focus on bearing the burdens of the North all on his own, though this meant there was less and less time that they were able to spend together.

Each morning, Lady Stark was awake and on the move early enough to meet with the maester and stewards and advisors, sharing no more than a few sweet words and touches with her husband as he watched her dress before she was out the door. They would see each other in passing throughout the day, sharing loving glances across the courtyard as they attended their duties and occasionally catching each other in the corridors, and she was normally in a deep slumber by the time he came to her chambers every night. Both of them were growing restless in their time apart, especially with her ladyship’s heightened emotions and hormones.

She had just finished speaking with the mistress of the orphanage in Winterstown when the maester came to her, a neatly folded piece of parchment in hand that bore her mother’s seal. She smiled to herself as she brushed her thumb over the thick spot of green wax, glad to have a response for her most recent letter to her mother to deliver the news of her pregnancy, along with a request for some new silks to be sent in order to accommodate her changing body. Breaking the seal, she scanned over the letter with her eyes, a small gasp leaving her mouth as she read over her mother’s words.

“My lady?” Maester Elryn asked, concern evident on his wrinkled features, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she smiled tightly at him, “My apologies for my reaction. Could you ask Lord Stark to come to me when he is free?”

“Of course, my lady. Anything else?”

“That is all, thank you, Maester Elryn.”

Cregan came to her two hours later, finding her seated at the small desk in the corner of her chambers. He paused to drink in the way she looked, having scarcely seen his wife for more than a moment all day. Her body was changing in the most glorious ways possible, and the bodices of her gowns were growing even tighter than before, her breasts threatening to spill over the neckline with every breath, and her belly growing firmer and rounder to accommodate his child. His smile widened as she turned to glance over her shoulder, her eyes softening as she finally took note of her husband’s figure in the doorway.

“You called, wife?”

“My love,” she greeted, pushing herself to stand with a gentle hand cradling her barely-there bump, “It seems it has been forever.”

His heart thumped against his ribcage at her action, chest growing warm at the sight of her maternal instincts already kicking in before she had even passed through her first few months

He closed the door behind him, crossing the room to meet her before she was able to move too far. His palm cupped her cheek, the other finding its place over her own against her belly, “Longer than forever to me.”

She grinned, leaning up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips, giggling to herself as he chased after her and grunted as she pulled away. He pressed small kisses to her cheeks, across the curve of her jaw, and down the column of her neck, leaving small nips in his wake. His wife pushed at his chest helplessly as she continued to laugh, the soft growth of hair along his own jaw tickling her with every brush of his lips on her skin.

“I called you up here because I needed to speak with you,” she whispered to him, body slowly relaxing against him as she sank into his embrace.

“Speak, then,” he ordered, thick fingers tugging at the laces of her dress.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at his antics, “I wrote to my mother a few nights ago, I need silk for new dresses. I’m sure you’ve noticed that my own are growing rather…tight.”

His mouth dropped to nip at the bulging flesh of her breast peeking over the neckline of her gown, “I certainly have.”

Her head tilted back, letting both a laugh and a breathy moan at her husband’s attack on her chest as he quickly laid her back on the bed, “She has written back to me. She says I shall have as much silk in as many colours as I wish.”

Cregan hummed in response, quickly peeling the layers of her gown away until she was left in only her thin white shift, her words going ignored as he tugged and pulled at her clothing until she was bare before him. He stared down at her, running his hand over his jaw as his eyes trailed over her breasts, heaving and swelling with milk, then down over her small bump, and finally to the place where her thighs clenched together.

She pushed herself up to sit before him, her own hands reaching out to tug at his clothing. He was quick to help her, shucking off his layers and boots until he stood before her in only his heavy leather breeches. His wife grinned up at him, pressing a gentle kiss against his own belly, a layer of soft flesh over his firm, almost inconspicuous muscle.

He pushed at her shoulder, chuckling as the mattress bounced beneath her as she was laid back again. He crawled over her, returning to mouthing over her neck, over her shoulders, and finally coming across her breasts.

“She says she will deliver them personally,” she uttered, whining in protest as he paused, pulling back to focus directly at her face.

“Personally,” He repeated, more for his own sake than a question of clarification, “your mother intends to come to Winterfell.”

She pouted at him, fingers carding through his long hair as she attempted to soften him to the news, “She wishes to be here for the birth. I know she can be…difficult, but it would bring me comfort to have her with me as I bring our firstborn into the world.”

He sighed, his head falling into her shoulder, “If this is what you wish, then this is what you shall have.

She smiled, remembering when he spoke the same words to her on their wedding night. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, winding her legs around his hips and hugging her tightly to her chest.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him as he finally pushed himself up to gaze down at her once again, “my mother can be difficult, as I said, but I wish for her to know her grandchildren, as she does my niece and nephews. I promise you, she will be on her best behaviour.”

“I believe you,” He pressed a kiss to her lips, mumbling against her, “but I must ask that we do not speak any more of your mother at the present. I do not think she would appreciate what I plan to do to you.”

Cregan did not allow her another moment of peace before his kisses grew in intensity, tongue intertwining with her own while his meaty palms pulled her legs further apart and began to rock his hips into hers. He smirked at the whine that escaped her throat, pressing himself further into her.

“Cregan–”

“I have missed you, my love,” he moaned against her lips, “you cannot possibly believe how much I have been longing for you.”

She chuckled, “I think I can. The maester told me pregnancy can bring on many side effects; discomfort, fatigue, desire…”

Cregan pulled back for a moment, “Should I be concerned about these conversations you have been having with Maester Elryn?”

She scoffed, “You are far too jealous for your own good, my love.”

“You might be too, if you were married to the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms–nay, the world.”

“Flatterer.”

“Can it be called flattery if it is the truth?” Cregan pushed himself to kneel between her legs, palms continuing to push her thighs upward to bare her completely to him. He let out a desperate groan as his eyes settled on her core, barely hidden beneath a neat patch of silver hair, “gods, have you ever been this wet?”

She snorted, raising her leg to press her foot flat to his chest, “It is the pregnancy, as I said.”

His long fingers wrapped around her foot, tugging it up to press his lips against the slope of her ankle, “Then perhaps I should keep you like this, eh? Would you like for your lord husband to fill you with his child, again and again?”

“I am already with child, my love,” she smiled at him, drawing a deep breath from his throat, “I’m afraid you will have to wait a few moons longer.”

“And I will spend every second I have with you perfecting the craft then.”

She sighed in relief as he finally reached between her thighs, fingers catching against her slick hole.

“Cregan, please,” she whimpered, “do something, anything.”

“Anything?” He asked, breathlessly, his own chest heaving in anticipation as she nodded excitedly.

A loud gasp tore from her lips as he finally sunk his fingers into her, her wetness audible to them both as he began moving with slow but purposeful thrusts. His thumb settled on her sensitive bud, making slow, tight circles over the swollen bud, his free hand gliding up from her thigh to tug at her breasts. Her hips rocked in sync with his every movement of his thick fingers, stilling as another one easily slipped inside.

“My love,” she panted, “e-enough, I need you.”

He quirked one of his thick brows at her words, “Should I not prepare you, my heart?”

“I am pregnant with your child, and as we can both tell, I am more than prepared.”

Cregan snorted out a laugh, withdrawing his fingers with a small whine from his wife, “How should you have me then, wife?”

Lady Stark smirked to herself, legs wrapping around his back and forcing him to fold over her, “Take me as you did on our wedding night, only you do not need to be so gentle with me.”

He slipped inside of her easily, a strained hiss sliding between his teeth while her own teeth sunk into his shoulder. Cregan did indeed take her like he had on their wedding night, but against her wishes, was almost as gentle as he had been, out of respect for his child’s personal space, as he had muttered to her. In truth, he simply wanted to take his time with her as he pulled her apart bit by bit, not wanting to rush their first time lying together in the few weeks since summer had come.

When they were finished, he remained inside of her for as long as he could, but the warmth of her and the air around them was far too much. His wife, despite the progress she’d made in the years of their marriage, was a southern woman and despised how frigid the castle could be, earning herself the warmest room in Winterfell and a required constant upkeep of her hearth. Cregan did not mind coming to his wife’s chamber when she needed him throughout the day or early evening, but there was a reason that they’d made a habit of sleeping in his personal chambers each night, where the air was cooler but he was able to keep her warm at night. He carefully pulled away, meeting her for a final kiss before he peeled himself off of the bed, slowly strutting across the room to haul the window open and feel the cool summer air against his burning flesh.

She watched him through hooded eyes, gaze raking down his muscular back, over his plump ass, and down his thick legs. She pursed her lips, pulling one of the heavy furs around her shoulders as she padded across the stone floor to wrap herself around him from behind, fingers hooking together around his belly as her bare chest pressed to his back. After a moment, one of his hands came over to cover her own as she pressed her lips to his shoulder blade.

“My mother wrote that she expects to be here in two moons,” she murmured against his warm skin, “I should begin preparations for them on the morrow.”

Cregan hummed, eyes scanning over the horizon for a moment before he comprehended her words, “Them. How many attendants does she plan to bring with her?”

He felt his wife tense behind him, “About that…”

Two moons later Cregan found himself standing tall in his own courtyard, jaw set as a procession of horses and wheelhouses began to file through the front gate of his ancestral home. He’d been a touch angry with his wife when she had finally revealed to him that it was not only her mother coming, but rather the entire royal family; the queen, her king consort, and all of their children; the dowager queen, the remaining four of her children, as well as Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena’s three children. Winterfell was about to be overrun with heads of silver hair, something Cregan had hoped would only happen as a result of his wife’s genes overcoming his own among their children.

At his side, his wife nervously chewed her bottom lip–a nasty habit he’d grown to detest after she’d drawn blood one night. He knew exactly how her family could be from their short stay during their wedding festivities, and the way that her mother and two older brothers alone were able to affect her, let alone the entire living Targaryen dynasty.

On her other side stood young Rickon, gripping her hand tightly as he struggled to compose himself. The boy was only six years old, but he already seemed to understand the importance of his role as the heir to Winterfell. He’d taken to his stepmother rather quickly, having been an infant when the fever took his own mother. He’d been in need of a maternal figure in his life, and her presence in Winterfell had done nothing but draw father and son closer together with every family supper and breakfast she had insisted on over the years. Seeing her welcome his son into her heart so openly only further pressed Cregan’s instincts to bring their own children into the world, wishing for nothing more than to give his boy dozens of siblings for him to play with.

The procession finally came to a halt just as two large, intricately carved wheelhouses entered the gates, flanked by the king consort and all of the elder princes on their horses. Lady Stark’s nerves only heightened at the sight of the silver-haired men, particularly her elder brothers who almost immediately turned their gaze her way. The queen soon climbed out of her wheelhouse, followed by her own litter of children, Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya. The second wheelhouse opened, producing Dowager Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena and her own children Jahaera, Jahaerys, and Maegor.

The queen came before them, regal as ever in her red cloak lined with black fur. She watched stoically as the three bowed before her.

“The North is yours, Your Grace,” Cregan spoke loud and true, “my family and I are honoured to host you and your family in Winterfell.”

“Many thanks, Lord Stark. I commend you on leading the North through yet another winter,” a smirk tugged at her lips as her eyes turned to his wife, who lowered into another curtsy under her stare, “I hear that Lady Stark has taken to her role quite well. I believe motherhood suits you, sister.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Stark nodded in thanks.

The next line of Targaryens filtered through the short lineup of Starks, first Daemon, who scarcely offered any of them a second glance (aside from his niece, who he stared at for a moment too long in Cregan’s opinion). Prince Jacaerys greeted Cregan like an old friend, clapping him on the shoulder heartily while he offered his aunt a polite hug, his younger brothers following, though with less familiarity.

Then came her mother, who hardly offered Lord Stark a moment of her time before she began fawning over her daughter, hugging her tightly before pulling away and pawing at her swollen belly through her layers of fur. A tear escaped the red-haired woman’s eye as she pressed a sweet kiss to Lady Stark’s cheek, then offered a greeting to sweet Rickon, who had shuffled closer to his stepmother in his nervousness. Aegon skipped over Lord Stark altogether, though he certainly was not complaining as he could smell the stench of wine radiating from the eldest prince even before noon, throwing himself onto his sister. She’d stumbled in her attempt to catch him, sending her husband a warning glance as he moved to rip him away from her. Aemond, at least, was more courteous, offering Cregan a polite greeting and kissing his sister gently on the forehead. Helaena was soon to follow, her greeting to Cregan leaving him with a puzzled look as she moved on to place her palm to her sister’s cheek.

“I am so happy to see you, sister,” Lady Stark’s eyes welled with tears. Cregan had been aware of how disappointed his wife had been when her sister had not been able to travel with her for their wedding, but she had not blamed her for choosing to stay behind while she was in her sixth moon of pregnancy, not to mention the poor state of her mind.

Daeron was the most reserved of his good-siblings, showing both Lord and Lady Stark his respect, though he had no personal relation with either. He’d spent most of his childhood in Oldtown under the care of his grandsire’s brother, the Lord of Oldtown, and his own uncle Gwayne. He’d been rather hesitant to even return to King’s Landing after being away for so long; his own mother was a mere stranger, and his siblings had gone on to marry and produce their own children without even a second thought of their youngest brother.

Winterfell’s hall was overflowing with Targaryens and those who served them. Cregan could hardly recognize any of the faces at the tables nearest to his own, his men being pushed farther back into the hall to accommodate the royal family. He, himself, had even been pushed one seat to the right to offer the queen the highest seat in the hall. He was not pleased to be doing this, far too used to southerners coming to the North with such entitlement, but he would take the treatment silently for the sake of his dear wife, who had been so excited for the arrival of her family and had been overtaken by anxiety of ensuring the visit went well.

She sat next to him, dressed in a fine silk gown (new, a design brought by her mother), a deep emerald with golden stitching across the bodice and around the cuffs. Cregan hissed through his teeth when his wife entered the hall, a happy grin on her lips as she cradled her round belly over the dress of her mother’s house rather than her own, though he was eager to greet her and accept her gleeful kiss on the cheek, and he was glad enough to see that her hair had been braided among the stems of various flowers, all of which being indigenous only to the North. Her mother could try with all of her might to try and hold tight to her daughter’s familial tether to the South, but Cregan knew his wife had transformed into a woman of the North–she was no longer simply a Targaryen princess, a dragonrider, she was also his wife, Lady of Winterfell, and mother of his children.

It never escaped Cregan’s watchful stare everytime the Dowager Queen gripped her daughter’s arm when her attention was not focused solely on her, or how she forced a smile each time he joined their conversation at all. If the woman had not been his wife’s mother, he would have gladly warded her away from his wife’s personal space. He understood well enough that his wife was bound to miss her family, especially her mother and sister, but he was afraid to see her begin to slip back into her shell, which had taken him a considerable amount of effort and care to bring her out from in the first place.

He was quickly tiring from the responsibility of hosting an entire flock of Targaryen princes, all of whom considered themselves above the northerners and their laws, customs, and expectations. They most often gathered in the training yards, each more eager to prove themselves over the northerners and each other than the last, except for Aegon, of course, who would rather spend the mornings in his chambers before he would disappear into Wintertown, most likely gone to spend the rest of the afternoon in the only brothel within twenty miles of Winterfell.

Throughout the two weeks to follow, they had barely found a moment to themselves that was not in the early hours of the morn or when the castle is alight with only the light emitted from torches and the moon itself, where Lady Stark was usually so worn out that she had barely enough energy to cuddle into her husband’s side and share a handful of words before her snoring would reach his ears. He made an effort to seek her out when he was granted a brief moment away from his duties, but there was hardly a moment when she could be found without at least one member of her kin at her side; in the nursery with her mother and sister, discussing her duties with the queen, reading with Aemond in the library, or comforting Aegon amidst another bout of alcohol-induced sickness.

The one moment he did find her alone in her personal study, not wasting a single moment before he was hoisting her into his arms and kissing her breathless. He’d been pleased to find that she had no fight in her, easily melting into his embrace and winding her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as small mewls of pleasure vibrated against his mouth. He’d almost forgotten that the door to the study had been left ajar, making his good-mother’s entrance even more silent, though he likely wouldn’t have noticed even if she had knocked, fully taken with his wife’s affection.

“Ehem.”

“Mother,” Lady Stark pushed away from her husband, face still with shock and, quite evidently, embarrassment, “I, we did not hear you come in.”

“Yes, as I could see.”

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Cregan nodded to the woman, though his tone was laced with his annoyance, “I’m afraid you’ve been subjected to a moment of weakness.”

“Nonsense,” Alicent’s lips tightened into a strained smile, a touch of tenderness on her face, “it comforts me to know that my daughter is cherished and loved, even so far away. We are not all so lucky to find love in these circumstances.”

His wife rounded the desk, meeting her mother with a tight embrace. For a moment, he felt a pang of sympathy for the red haired woman–it was true, most marriages of such caliber did not afford the couple any form of affection, and he was more than aware of the fortune that had fallen into his lap that day that Prince Jacaerys landed at his gate. The moment came to a crashing end all-too-soon as his good-mother once again dragged his wife away from him, not to be seen again until she was deep asleep in their shared bed.

He’d arranged for a hunt during the visit of the royal family, where he was forced to play the peacekeeper between the queen’s sons and their uncles, all while keeping his eyes peeled for the prize he’d been hoping for; his wife had mentioned more than once that she wanted to find the perfect blanket to gift to their first child, one that can be used again and again with each babe they brought into the world, so it seemed only fitting to him that he be the one to bring her the pelt.

It would be weeks before the warmth in his chest subsided after witnessing her grin and laughter as he presented it to her, two rabbits of a similar white and brown pattern, drawing her away from the large elk that had been brought in for their supper that night. It was a brief moment of privacy amongst the crowd, where she curled her fingers beneath the neckline of his leather doublet and dragged him down to her height, pushing a soft kiss to his wind-bitten cheek, though he was thankful for every moment of it. Her mother stepped in a moment later, grasping her daughter’s hand and willing her to join her in the nursery, where she could continue to preach her wisdom and advice for the soon-to-be mother, though Cregan hoped his wife was smart enough to take it with a grain of salt.

He’d spent the rest of the day both tending to his duties, which have seemingly doubled since the arrival of his wife’s kin, and also offering a hand in preparing the elk when he had a chance; his cooks could do wonders with elk meat, but the kitchen maids often made a fuss when such large animals were brought to whole or at least without being skinned first. He had barely even spared a moment to clean himself and change clothes before supper.

When he arrived in the dining hall, a smaller yet more formal area where he hoped he, his wife, and their many children would all dine together whenever they could. He was, however, miffed to discover the dining hall filled with princes and princesses and queens alike, only two seats left empty–his own, and his wife’s.

His immediate thought was that perhaps she was still readying herself, perhaps she had gotten carried away in the nursery with her mother, and she would be there soon enough. Then, his eyes fell upon the red-haired woman a few seats from his own.

He cleared his throat, drawing silence across his hall, “My apologies, I expect Lady Stark in only a moment.”

Alicent furrowed her brow, directing her words to the rest of the royal family rather than to Lord Stark, “I’m afraid she will not be joining us tonight.”

Cregan raised his own brow, “Why not?”

Alicent’s gaze flickered to his own, “She was unwell this evening–a pain many women know while carrying their children, all she needs is rest.”

“And why was I not made aware of this at once?” Lord Stark felt his blood beginning to boil.

She looked somewhat taken aback, “These pains are normal, they are expected for how far along she is. My daughter–”

Cregan’s heavy palm landed flat on the wooden tabletop, “My wife is my main concern. Any news concerning her or my children should and will be brought to me at once.”

Alicent pursed her lips, appearing to have a few words of choice for her daughter’s husband, though he turned his attention to the queen opposite him on the other end of the long table and looked equally as surprised and amused at the altercation as she sipped her wine.

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” he pushed himself up to his full height, “forgive my absence this evening, but if my wife is unwell I would prefer to be at her side.”

Rhaenyra smirked at him, nodding her head at him, “But of course, Lord Stark. I am honoured that you take such care of my sister. After all, family is everything, is it not?”

He ignored the way that her words seemed to have been aimed at the red-haired woman, who had slouched back into her own seat as a soft pink tinged at the apples of her cheeks, instead nodding at the queen and fleeing the room at once, his hurried and heavy footfalls carrying him through the castle and up to his wife’s personal chambers. He was disgruntled to find that they were empty, save for a servant girl who had been tending to the hearth and directed him to his own chambers.

The hinges creaked as he pushed his way inside, finding two handmaidens hovering worriedly over his wife as she hunched over on her hands and knees atop the plush bear-skin rug, back arched upwards like he’d only seen done by a cat. The two servants froze at the sight of the broad figure crossing the threshold.

“Lord Stark,” one of them rushed to him, “Lady Stark, she is alright, but–”

“Alright?” He scoffed, “She is on the floor in pain, she does not look alright.”

“Cregan,” Lady Stark glared up at him, voice strained with discomfort, “do not speak to my ladies like that.”

He let out a deep sigh, offering the servant a quiet but genuine apology, “Now please, just tell me what is wrong with her, and what I can do to help. Should I call a maester?”

The servant fought a soft smile, touched at the lord’s concern for his wife and child, “Lady Stark is experiencing little more than body aches. Normal for women carrying a child, especially their first. I’m afraid all the maester could do is offer milk of the poppy for discomfort, which could potentially do more harm to the child than good to the mother,” Cregan swallowed at the thought, “We’ve allowed the princess to soak in warm water, and the stretching helps while we prepare a hot pack over the fire.”

His gaze flickered to the small grate across the embers of the fireplace, holding three large black stones over them. He nodded, turning back to his wife, who had turned her face back into the rug while the other servant girl carefully massaged gentle circles into her lower back.

“What can I do?”

“The hot pack should help with the aches, but I’m afraid the best thing may be to keep Lady Stark as comfortable as possible, anything to keep her mind away from the pains.”

He nodded, “Leave us, I should care for my wife on my own.”

The door closed behind the two women as they hesitantly left their mistress’s side, loyal to the very end. Cregan wasted little time in removing his leather doublet and abandoning it on the plush bed, leaving him in only his breeches and thin linen shirt. He crossed the room, kneeling beside his wife and carefully laying his palm flat to her lower back, a small smirk appearing on his lips as she sighed from the relief brought by his large, warm hand.

“If you were not so obviously in pain, I would guess that you were enjoying this, my love,” he chuckled as his hand copied the same circular pattern that the servant girl had applied.

“Shut up,” she turned her head to the side so she could glance up at him, “this is your fault.”

“My fault?” He scoffed, “As I recall, your current condition is the result of your uncontrollable desires.”

She pushed herself up onto her hands, “My what? It was you who was gone to the Wall for more than a moon!”

“And it was you who kept me from my duties until midday on the day after I returned.”

She pursed her lips, “Alright, next time I will allow you to go about your duties without a word. Then we will see which one of us is so insatiable.”

“Be that the case, I’m afraid you may be with child for the next decade or more, my love.”

“Just get the hot pack,” Lady Stark rolled her eyes, lowering her head back down to the plush rug, muttering to herself with a small grin, “a decade or more…”

He obliged, wrapping the stones in a thick woolen cloth before pressing them against the small of her back, a dusting of pink coating his cheeks at the sound she released, back curving inwards as relief overtook her body.

They remained there for a long while, one of his hands holding the hot pack while the other smoothed over her silver hair, braided and still damp from her bath. The stones began to cool against his palm until they were no warmer than her own body heat, finally being tossed to the side.

“How do you feel?” He asked her, hands cradling her head and hip as he helped her roll onto her side.

“Better. Still plagued with discomfort, but better nonetheless,” She smiled softly at him, “I only wish someone may have warned me of the unpleasantness of pregnancy before I agreed to it.”

He barked out a laugh, remembering the many times she had pointed out the many ways pregnancy could ruin any romance in their marriage before it even began, hence their decision to wait before finally trying to conceive.

“If only, eh?” He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

A twinkle appeared in her eye, “Well Maryssa did say that you should be doing anything to keep me comfortable…”

Lord Stark raised his brow at her words, “And what was it you only just said about me being insatiable? How have you gone from crippling pain to reaching for my breeches in such a hurry?”

She gasped, faux offense in her eyes, “I am not reaching for you breeches! What do you take me for?”

He quickly manoeuvred her onto her back, leaning down to press a slow yet meaningful kiss to her lips, “My very pregnant, very beautiful, and very impatient wife.”

She whined against his mouth, “I think impatience is quite appropriate given the circumstances. Your child has brought me the greatest joy and greatest pain of my life, and yet I constantly yearn for you, my love.”

“Constant?” He laughed.

“The maester warned me of it,” she kissed him again, “all a part of my hysteria, he called it.”

He hummed, “Which brings me to wonder why I was not made aware of this. I could have…relieved you of this suffering.”

She snorted a laugh, a sound he knew he could never grow tired of, “Cregan, if you do not take my clothes off now I would like to go to bed.”

“And what was it I said about your impatience?”

She pushed at his shoulder playfully, gasping as he grasped her wrist in his large hand and pulled her to sit up, moving to lift her and carry her to the bed when she pushed at his shoulder, shaking her head with a sly grin.

“Here,” she insisted, “it is so warm, and this fur is so soft.”

He shook his head at her, rolling his eyes. Only his wife would be demanding enough as to where he had his way with her and choose anywhere except their marital bed. Only he would be so foolishly in love as to oblige her every whim and allow her to make such demands.

Growing impatient, she began tugging at her own shift, struggling to lift her hips just enough to slide it over her hips and off completely, leaving her bare before her husband while the firelight flickered off of her soft, freshly oiled skin. His eyes fell from her own to her breasts, which had seemingly doubled in size through her pregnancy, then to her rounded belly; only a few moons would pass before she brought their first child into the world, and he could not be any more in love with her. He knew how excited she’d been over the last few weeks as her body developed with their growing child, spending much of her time with little Rickon, who was just as excited to become an older brother as she was to become a mother.

“I am not simply here for decoration,” she growled, reaching up to begin tearing the linen shirt from her husband’s body, ignoring his laughter as she struggling to pull the fabric over his wide shoulders and causing his head to get stuck for a moment, “As I said, fuck me or let me sleep.”

His booming laugh echoed through the chamber, scarcely hearing his wife, a Targaryen princess and Lady of Winterfell, use such coarse language. It was the northerner growing within her, he decided as he obliged, kissing her with every ounce of desire he’d been forced to swallow throughout the duration of her family’s stay, pressing her back to lay flat against the dark brown fur.

Cregan made quick work of kissing down her body, taking a few moments to kiss and suckle and squeeze at her swollen breasts, encouraged by her response to his touch on her sensitive skin as he continued further down. He pressed several playful kisses over her belly, whispering to their child to go to sleep so he could take care of his wife guilt-free. She giggled at this, causing a flood of heat to spread across his chest as he finally crested over the underside of her belly, coming face-to-face with the silver curls safeguarding her womanhood.

Her legs fell apart easily, and he found no resistance as he eagerly began to feast upon her most intimate place. Her fingers curled into the fur beneath her as her whines and whimpers filled the room, unable to reach for his long dark hair with her belly in the way. He was pleasantly surprised to discover how much of her arousal had pooled between her thighs, two of his thick fingers easily slipping into her heat with practiced precision while his tongue massaged her sensitive pearl.

Her body seemed more responsive than ever, thighs quivering against his shoulders as her peak crashed over her once, and then moments later, once more.

He pulled away, noting how her hips had begun to pull away from him, her womanhood more sensitive than ever. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, watching through lustful eyes as his wife grabbed hold of his other wrist, taking the fingers that had brought her to bliss twice only moments before between her lips and sucking them clean. She stared up at him through her lashes, leaning up on her elbow to reach down and paw at the tent that had formed in his breeches, tugging at the laces until they fell open and allowed her to reach inside.

He let out a low growl at the sensation of her hand taking hold of his member, head falling back in relief. Cregan was quick to pull her hand away, shedding his trousers and boots as efficiently as possible so he could lay her flat on her back once more and finally press himself inside of her.

They both let out long, breathy sounds at the stretch; no matter how many times they would lay together, she never quit got used to the intrusion of his thick cock inside of her, He remained still for a moment, regaining his wits as he willed himself not to finish far too early, though he could not guarantee that he would be able to fight his peak for very long after weeks without his wife’s intimate touch.

“Cregan, please,” she whimpered, nails scratching down his arm as she planted his fist next to her head, bracing himself as he began to work slow, deep thrusts into her warmth, his own grunts and gasps of pleasure falling from his lips while her lips fell open to allow wails of her enjoyment fall from them with every punch of his tip against her most sensitive place deep within her.

“My love,” he panted, “For-forgive me…I do not think–”

“Give yourself to me, my love,” she whined, “I need to feel you.”

He nodded, eyes tightening shut as he quickened his pace, chasing his release with grunts and growls and groans until his hips began to stutter, his release pumping deep inside of her until he was shaking. His release triggered her own, pleasure crashing over her for the third time that evening, soaking his length in both of their releases as she clung to his broad frame for dear life.

She whined when he pulled out of her, sensitive from her three climaxes. He took a moment to stare down at her, stormy gaze trailing from her cunt, where their mix juices had begun seeping from her warmth, to her belly, where their child grew. His eyes then moved to her breasts, which heaved with every deep breath the escaped her parted lips, and finally to her face, which shone with a layer of perspiration as she pulled him down to lay next to her on the fur, turning to press her back against his chest and settling into his embrace as he trailed sweet kisses over her cheek, jaw, and neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered, sleep threatening to overtake her at any moment.

“Thank you,” Cregan responded. “I love you.”

“I love you too, husband.”

Silence overtook the room for a moment, only the sound of their slowing breaths and the crackling fire in the hearth could be heard before he finally shared his final thoughts of the night.

“I cannot bear to not have you all to myself for even a moment ever again,” he mumbled into her flesh, “we are never hosting your family again.”

A small chuckle vibrated through her chest.

“I could not agree more.”

#x reader #reader insert #imagines #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan smut #smut #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine

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street-smarts00 · 21 days ago

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Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your first Christmas with Spencer and you get his name for secret Santa.

WC: 1.8k

Tags: Fluff, Secret Santa, friends to lovers, one use of Y/N I think A/N: Sorry I went MIA :( I got busy with school. I hope to push out many ideas while I’m on break tho. Here’s something cheesy and festive for the holiday season I hope you enjoy! (not beta read don't kill me)

Nothing was right. Nothing you found was the right present.

This was your first secret Santa with the BAU and you picked Spencer's name out of penelope’s mug. At first you thought it would be easy to buy a present for him because you knew him so well. In almost a year of being with the BAU you grew the closest with Spencer.

What you didn’t expect was your present ideas to not live up to your own expectations. Nothing you came up with could live up to your own standards. Of course your “slight” feelings for him definitely affected this, but you tried to tell yourself that wasn’t true.

You ran through dozens of ideas. Clothing, a new scarf, tickets for a play, special edition of a book he loved. But nothing felt like the right present.

You almost gave up in your search for the perfect present for him. The gift exchange was in less than a week and you still had nothing. Sitting at your desk in the bullpen you considered settling with one of your first ideas.

While getting up to refill your coffee mug you noticed Spencer’s attention was focused on his computer. He sat there deep in thought with his brows furrowed and lips in a fine line. When you walked by his desk you saw he was playing an online chess game.

“Working hard or hardly working?” you joked.

He popped out of his focus from your presence. “I finished my files a little early,” he responded bashfully.

“Are you at least winning?”

He smirked, “I’ve won four times. But that’s not even the fun part. The fun is doing different plays every time and seeing what the computer comes up with as the best response.”

That’s when it hit you. An idea for Spencer’s gift.

Finally something that felt like a good gift for him. At the end of the day you rushed out of work to go to the craft store and get your supplies. You worked on the gift everyday after work.

Soon the weekend rolled around and you found yourself at Rossi’s. His living room had the biggest Christmas tree you’d ever seen. Everyone’s gifts sat there for the evening. After dinner you all sat down to exchange gifts.

“I want to go first!” Garcia exclaimed. She jumped up from the couch and hurried to the tree to grab her gift for JJ.

JJ excitedly opened the gift bag to find a small black and grey purse with a colorful crochet keychain. The idea that Garcia also handmade part of her gift gave you a sense of relief.

“Oh this is so pretty. Thank you so much,” she beamed, admiring the bag and twirling the keychain. Garcia squealed in happiness before JJ offered a hug to her.

JJ then handed over her gift to Rossi, a bottle of scotch. He smiled and thanked her for the bottle saying how his collection needed a new addition.

He stood up and brought his hands together looking at the tree. “My turn.” He grabbed a thin box wrapped in silver sparkly wrapping paper and walked over to you.

“For you, my dear,” he handed you the box.

Your eyes widened and lips perked up at the gift. It may be a little silly but, part of you wished that you were Spencer’s secret santa. You reminded yourself that the possibility of you both picking each other's names was unlikely. The possibility of some things being the same between the two of you was … unlikely.

You ripped back the paper to reveal a large eyeshadow pallet. Upon opening it, you saw an array of beautiful shades you couldn’t wait to try out.

“Rossi, this is so sweet. I love it,” You thanked with a bright smile.

Now it was your turn. Everyone’s eyes only made the moment more stressful. You got up and grabbed the box with a nervous hand. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was too cheesy or corny? What if he thought it was useless as he already owned two of them?

You tried to quiet your thoughts as you handed him the box, but they had no intention of leaving.

“Merry Christmas Spence,” you said softly.

When you turned and walked back to your seat you neglected to see the rising blush on his face.

Spencer glanced down at the white and red striped paper. He carefully peeled it off and opened the lid to reveal a chess set nestled in between red tissue paper. The board spaces were off-white and royal purple with corresponding chess pieces the same colors. When he picked up the wooden pieces and saw small leaves and flowers painted on them. The King and Queen specifically had crowns in a shimmering gold.

“Wow look at that,” Emily admired.

Upon further inspection he noticed the small human imperfections in the details. The way not one leaf or flower looked exactly the same. Or how the clear coating over the paint was slightly streaky in some spots.

“Did you paint this?” He asked.

You nodded your head and answered , “Yeah I did.”

A faint “awe” could be heard across the room from Garcia.

“Y/N,” Spencer started, his voice full of admiration. “This is … beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach were getting restless.

“Really?” you asked, not able to hide the smile spreading on your face.

“Yes! It’s Perfect,” his eyes sparkled at you. “I love it. Nobody’s ever given me something like this.” He beamed at you with a smile that made you love sick.

The realization that you both were not alone set in and Spencer cleared his throat before closing the box. The gift exchange continued as Spencer handed over a present to Morgan.

The rest of the night was filled with catching glances and far away looks between you and Spencer. He seemed to feel more relaxed in a way after receiving your gift. Not that he was acting any differently. He just seemed more open. With the group and with you.

You lived off that feeling the whole evening. The idea that you made him happy. You helped him see he was appreciated and loved.

Not that he had to know you loved him.

He didn’t know that. Right?

As the hands on the clock passed you announced your departure and said your goodbyes. You stepped outside and felt a chill against your skin.

You held tight onto your keys as you walked to your car. The snow had just started to fall. Occasional little flurries fell down from the sky.

“Wait!” Someone yelled from behind.

You turned to find Spencer trying his best to run but not slip on the icy parts of the driveway. When he got closer you noticed his cheeks and the tip of his nose were pink. Probably from the cold weather you thought.

“I wanted to formally say thank you for the chess set,” he explained.

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile. You stuffed your hands in your pockets away from the cold. “I’m glad you like it. I was worried you’d find it cheesy.”

He looked confused. “Why would I find it cheesy?”

You shrugged, “because I hand painted it.”

“But that’s what makes it perfect,” he reassured. His voice is sincere and soft. “It’s personal and shows you care.”

His eyes widened. “Oh um-“

He suddenly remembered why he rushed outside and scrambled for something in his jacket pocket. It was a small cube shaped box wrapped in paper covered in snowflakes. Quite fitting for the weather.

“I know I technically wasn’t your secret Santa but I still wanted to get you something.”

You took the gift from him with a slack jaw. “Spence-“

“This isn’t because you were my secret Santa. I still wanted to get you a gift regardless,” he reassured.

“I- Thank you,” you started unwrapping the gift.

“It’s not homemade like yours but I hope you still like it.”

”It doesn’t have to be homemade for me to-“ the wind was stolen out of your lungs.

The gift was a small gold and white music box you immediately recognized. You opened the lid to reveal a ballerina in a pink tutu spinning as Sleeping Beauty Waltz played. Your heart ached as you admired the tiny dancer.

”Is this the music box from that antique shop in Seattle?”

While on a case in Seattle, you and Spencer went to an antique shop to ask the owner about evidence found at the crime scene that was purchased there. You fell in love with a beautiful music box in one of the aisles.

“It is. I saw how you looked at it in the store and in the car you said it reminded you of when you used to do ballet. So before we left Seattle I went back to the store to get it for you. I thought it would make a great Christmas present.”

“But, that was three months ago.”

He sheepishly smiled and his cheeks only got more red. “Yeah, I had to keep it a secret for a while.”

Your heart rate started to pick up as the butterflies returned. “I can't believe you went back and bought this for me,” you muttered in disbelief.

“Of course I would. You mean a lot to me and I knew this was something that would make you happy.”

You admired the music box before carefully placing it in your purse. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

His smile grew and reached his eyes. His eyes looked beautiful in this lighting. The Christmas lights from the house made them look practically golden. Even in the freezing cold you could melt from his eyes.

He shifted his weight and licked his lips. He seemed wrapped around the words in his head. “I also wanted to ask if maybe you’d want to go see The Nutcracker with me.”

Your heart damn near stopped.

“It’s playing at the theater downtown. I was thinking if we don’t get a case then we could go see the show on Friday. Maybe, if you want to, that is,” he rambled in nervousness.

“I’d love to,” you beamed.

His face brightened at your eagerness, but his nerves were still present. “But not as friends. As a date?”

You chuckled, “Yes Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. I think the nutcracker is a perfect first date.”

“Great,” he said with relief. “And maybe afterwards we might have time for a game of chess with my new board.”

God he was cute.

“That sounds great.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic

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wonderjanga · 3 months ago

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Father’s Day

@autistic-human’s post and @moonlightcycle571’s comment on said post were the inspiration for this one. I love dad Marvel soooooo much, cause I think Billy would try his best to be a good adult figure without even realizing it can come off as parental. He’d just be doing what he would’ve wanted someone to do for him, which was be there for whichever kid no matter what. So what happens when a bunch of angsty teens with trauma meet him? He’s obviously going to try his best to be there for them!

Like Kon, when he first met Marvel, he didn’t really know what to think of the man. He was nice. Almost overwhelmingly so. He also helps Kon with anything if he ever needs help. He’s also almost always around and is willing to talk about virtually anything with Kon too. And this isn’t just exclusive to him, but to everyone. (It makes him feel slightly queasy sometimes. He hasn’t realized what he’s feeling is jealousy whenever his parental figure’s attention is on another kid.) So that’s why when Father’s Day came around and M’gann suggested they all do something for Marvel, he was a little dumbfounded. One, because he just came to the realization that he thinks of Marvel as a kinda dad, and two, because what were they going to do? Marvel isn’t actually their dad, so what if the Captain finds it weird? Kon really doesn’t want to think about Cap finding all of this weird.

The YJ eventually decided to just get Cap a gift. They were all pretty sure that’s what you were supposed to give fathers. Now the question is: what to give him?

Marvel: *goes to Mount Justice to check in on the kids*

YJ: *All in the kitchen fighting about how to frost the cookies cause they all did it differently*

Marvel: *hears them and comes to the kitchen*

YJ: *doesn’t notice him*

Kon: *Does notice and picks up his batch of cookies and goes to Marvel* “Cap.” *presents cookies to Billy*

Marvel: “Huh?” *stares at cookies. Kon’s cookies are a bunch of mishapen blobs with smiley faces* “Are these for me?”

Kon: *nods head* “They’re you.”

Marvel: *takes a cookie with one of the biggest smiles Kon has ever seen on the man’s face* “This is amazing… thanks Kon!” *bites cookie* “They’re really good too!”

Kon: “Really?” *eyes shining at the praise*

Marvel: “Yeah!” *finishes cookie and is about to grab another one*

Other YJ members: *now notice Marvel and Kon* “Wait! Wait! Wait! Try mine next!” *they all proceed to take turns shoving cookies into Marvel’s hands*

Marvel: *eats them all and gives each of them stellar reviews*

About after thirty minutes of Marvel and the kids eating cookies…

Marvel: “What was all this for by the way?”

YJ: “Huh?”

Marvel: “What was all this for? I mean, it’s not my birthday, so…” *doesn’t know it’s Father’s Day*

YJ: “Oh uh… We just felt like it.”

Marvel: “Oh. Okay!” *just happy to gobble the last, remaining cookies* “By the way, this means a lot to me. Even if it was just a spur of the moment thing. I appreciate it.”

YJ: *all super duper uper happy he loves it but trying not to show it* “No problem.” (Spoiler: they’re not very good at hiding it.)

Then there’s Damian. He’s always had a love-hate relationship with Marvel’s happy go lucky, friendly attitude, but it sort of reminds him of Grayson so he’ll never admit it but it’s leaning more towards love. The man has also weirdly never once gotten mad at him, or at anyone as far as he can tell. He’s extremely patient, and the fact that Damian hasn’t pushed the limits of that patience yet is surprising to the young Wayne. The man also knows a surprising about of animal facts and lets him pet his tiger. So that’s another bonus. The man also doesn’t underestimate him solely based on the fact he’s a child. So, when the Father’s Day holiday rolls around, he decides he would reward Marvel for being an admittedly commendable person.

Marvel: *standing by the window of the Titan’s tower, looking at Jump City*

Damian: *appears from nowhere* “Captain.”

Marvel: *jumps before looking to Damian* “Yes, Robin?”

Damian: *holds up Alfred the Cat* “This is Alfred the Cat. I’m giving you the privilege to pet him just this once. Say hi, Alfred.”

Alfred the Cat: *meows*

Marvel: “Hi.” *little wave to Alfred* “Nice to meet you, Alfred.” *shakes Alfred’s little paw before petting him*

Damian: *lets Marvel get a single pet in before pulling Alfred away* “Alright, that’s enough.”

Marvel: “Oh- uh…” *smiles at Damian* “Thanks for letting me pet him, Robin.”

Damian: “Your welcome.” *nods at him before walking off to bring Alfred back to the manor*

Then there’s also Raven. She honestly had no intention of even thinking about the holiday, considering the fact her father is a demon that actively sucks and ruins her life. Then she saw Damian do his thing and after thinking about the Captain and how the man cares for her and her team members… she supposed he should get some type of reward. The man is extremely nice after all.

A little while after Damian’s departure…

Marvel: *back to looking out the window*

Raven: *also appears out of nowhere* “Marvel.”

Marvel: *jumps just like with Damian and looks to her* “Yes, Raven?”

Raven: *presents Marvel with a mini version of himself*

Mini Marvel: *waves to Billy*

Marvel: “Wha?” *bends down slightly to look at Mini Marvel with a confused smile* “Is that me?”

Raven: *nods head* “It’s a new spell I learned. I wanted to show you.”

Marvel: *pokes Mini Marvel in the stomach* “This is… Amazing!” *gives her a wide grin* “You’re amazing!”

Raven: *a little surprised she feels happy at the man’s approval but isn’t really hating* “Thanks.”

Marvel: “Actually, wait. Hold up!” *mutters a spell and in his hand spawns a Mini Raven. He places the Mini Raven in Raven’s palm with the Mini Marvel*

Mini Marvel: *fawning over Mini Raven*

Mini Raven: *blankly staring at Mini Marvel and lets it fawn*

Marvel: “And you’re saying you learned this spell on your own?” *looks away from the Minis and to Raven* “That’s awesome. You did a wonderful job.”

Raven: *doesn’t really know how to handle all the praise* “Thanks… I’m uh… I think I left the stove on.” *instead of heading to the kitchen, runs off to her room*

Marvel ended up later telling the other members of the JL how many gifts he’s gotten that day. They were a little confused and wondered how many kids Marvel could have. But no, they found out that a lot of their own kids think of him as a somewhat father. Also, a few of the adults might’ve thought about slipping Marvel gifts when the man wasn’t looking cause Billy being a dad isn’t just exclusive to the kids.

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nyankochan · 16 days ago

Text

Unwrap Me

Synopsis: you and Leona visit his family for the holidays. You prepared a special gift for him but can’t quite give it in front of his relatives

Content: Leona x fem!reader, afab!reader, reader implied to be Leona’s finance, oral (male and female receiving), dirty talk, penetration, rough sex, dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple rounds, breeding kink

w/c: 3K

A/n: todays my birthday (*^_^*) and it’s also Christmas so as a gift, Leona Kingscholar. A happy holidays to everyone

Just one week.

Seven days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds.

That was how long Leona had to put up with his family for the holidays. That was it. One short week. If he kept repeating that to himself, then perhaps being around his extended family would be manageable.

As long as he knew there was a deadline, he could tolerate Cheka’s begging to bake Christmas cookies and his brother’s pestering about him coming home more often. He could put up with his sister-in-law’s insistence on the family taking updated photos in coordinated pajamas and Neji’s nagging about whatever he chose to complain about Leona not doing right at the moment.

He could handle it.

That’s what he told himself. But after the first forty-eight hours, Leona’s patience already began to wane.

Usually, Leona would hover close to you, using your proximity as an excuse to avoid interacting with his family. But of course, they, for some reason, all seemed to hog your attention from the moment you arrived at the Afterglow Savannah. Cheka wanted to decorate the tree with you. His sister-in-law took you away with his mother to talk wedding details and planing Leona didn’t quite care to participate in. The only time he got to see you was at dinner, because often times, you’d either come back to your room late or he’d find you already asleep.

The final straw was Christmas Eve. Leona had hoped for some time alone with you only for you to get swept away by Farena to help wrap gifts. It was well after 1am by the time you came to bed due to the sheer number of gifts he had bought Cheka.

At that point, damn Christmas and damn the gifts. All Leona wanted at this point was you and a moment of alone time before he went mad from having to watch another corny Christmas movie or pretend to like his sister-in-law’s awful cooking.

“Leona, don’t be such a grinch, smile a little. It’s Christmas!” Farena chided, making the younger Kingscholar roll his eyes. It was finally Christmas Day, and of course, Cheka woke everyone up with his excited yells at five in the morning. Needless to say, Leona was less than thrilled about having his sleep interrupted because “Santa came.”

“Be grateful I’m even here,” Leona muttered under his breath.

The family gathered in the living room, the adults sleepily making their ways in with coffee in hand and an excited five year old at the center of it all. Leona sat on the far end of the couch, immediately closing his eyes and trying to ignore Cheka’s questions about which gifts he could open first. Dressed in your robe, You plop down beside him and lean against his shoulder. You look exhausted, but hide it well with a smile.

For the next couple hours, everyone opens their own gifts. You got a few nice things from your wishlist, Leona gifting you the most expensive (despite your protests) being a new set of headphones you were eyeing. And he was quite pleased with one of your gifts to him, new spell drive equipment, among other things he received from his brother, parents, and Neji.

“Oh, Leona, I got one more gift for you,” you whisper. There’s a cheeky smile on your face as you reach into your robe’s pocket and pull out a small wrapped black box.

“Huh?” Leona’s ears twitched in slight annoyance. “We only agreed to do one gift this year.”

“I know but you’ll really like this one. But it’s for your eyes only. M’kay?” You kiss his cheek when you’re called by Farena’s wife to help make breakfast. After giving one last wink to Leona you skip off.

Confused yet curious as to what you had planned, he undoes the silk red ribbon holding the box together. Carefully, Leona lifts the lid. There’s nothing but a bunch of tissue paper inside. He pulls the paper out and at the bottom of the box is a small piece of the same red ribbon and a photo. Upon seeing what the picture is actually of, Leona immediately closes the box back before anyone else could accidentally see what was meant clearly for his eyes only.

“That little…ha…” Leona sighs, a grin spreading across his face.

He definitely wasn’t expecting that. But he surely was going to enjoy every bit of this gift. And if Cheka was allowed to be impatient, waking everyone up at the ass crack of dawn to open gifts, then Leona felt justified to do the same. He wanted to unwrap the rest of his gift now.

In the kitchen, you were helping the women make breakfast. You half paid attention to their conversations, mind drifting to Leona and what he thought of your little gift. You were quite excited and wished you could’ve seen his instant reaction to the surprise you had left in the box.

“Oi, Leona, if you’re not going to help in here then get out,” Farena’s wife scolded. You look up from what you were mixing to see your fiancé who has quite an unreadable expression on his face. But the intense look in his emerald eyes told you all you needed to know.

He opened your gift.

And you were in for it.

“I need to borrow Y/n,” Leona said, pushing past the lioness to you. “I’ll bring her right back. I forgot to have her open up one more gift from me.”

“What! Wait-“

“Just let them go,” Leona’s mom chuckles. She gives you a knowing wink, shooing you two away.

“But-“ Farena’s wife begins to protest.

Leona ignores her, grabs you by the arm, and drags you out the kitchen quickly. His pace is fast as he walks through the hall with a clear destination in mind. You can’t help but giggle, antsy excitement coursing through your veins. The two of you arrive at your shared room and he immediately locks the door.

“Leo~I was busy helping,” you feign innocence. “It was rude to interrupt.”

“I don’t care,” Leona said , taking a step closer to you. “Your little note was cute. Expecting me to wait until tonight for my gift?”

“Patience is a virtue you know.”

“And I don’t recall ever claiming to be a patient or virtuous man.” He takes a seat on the bed, spreading his legs slightly. Like a king on his throne. “Take it off.”

You undo the tie around your robe, letting the fabric slide down your shoulders slowly. Leona’s eyes seemed to dilate as he took in the attire you wore underneath: A sheer red baby doll. White lacy under garments and stockings with red bow detailing everywhere.

“You’re such a vixen wearing that underneath while around my family,” Leona lets out a shaky breath as he pulls you closer to him. “You did this on purpose, did ya?”

“Mhm maybe,” you tease, shivering as his thumb traces across your hips. “To be fair, not being able to see was equally annoying on my part. You don’t know how many boring meetings I had to have with your mother about flower arrangements and table decor. But she should get the others to leave us alone for a few hours.”

“Yeah? And how’d you convince her to do that?”

Your grin is wicked. “I might’ve promised her a new grand baby if I could have you to myself on Christmas.”

Leona’s eyes widened briefly before a smirk settled on his face. He could feel his cock stir within his pants. “Well, then, I guess we should deliver.” Leona pulls you into his lap, smashing his lips against yours in a frivolous and desperate kiss. He groans against your mouth as your hips rock against his, intense heat blossoming between the two of you. “You know,” Leona mumbles, “you’re almost too pretty to unwrap. I could admire this gift for hours.”

“I thought you were impatient,” you pant. Leona’s hands tightened around your waist. His teeth graze across your neck making you shiver.

“I am. But I still want to admire my beautiful fiancé.”

“B-but this gift was for you.” you whimper out as Leona nips at your neck, squeezing your breast through the bralette. “So let me admire you too.”

You slide out of Leona’s lap to kneel between his legs. His thighs tense as you trace your delicate hands up them to the drawstring of his pajama pants. The crotch bulges, the fabric held high by his erection. He groans when you grope him.

“Don’t tease me,” Leona warns. “Otherwise I’ll make you regret it.”

“So impatient,” you laugh, pulling his cock out of the confines of his boxers.

Leona lets out a shaky moan as your mouth envelops around the swollen head of his cock. You immediately take him deep, tears springing against your eyelashes as you begin to suck. “Fuck don’t stop,” Leona groans. His fingers tangle themselves in your hair, grabbing a fistful of it. His hips jerk up. Your tongue tracing the sensitive vein on his shaft. “Fuck. I’m gonna move you. Let me know if it’s too much.”

“Mhm.”

His other hand grips your head. He then roughly thrusts up while simultaneously forcing your head down his length. You whimper as you begin to gag. Tears trickle down your cheeks as Leona continues to fuck your mouth, his low grunts turning into quick pants. “Such a good fucking girl, taking my cock like this. Gonna swallow all of me okay?”

Leona’s eyes scrunch shut as he comes down your throat. He lets out a shaky moan, keeping a tight hold on your head so you can’t pull away. Your body trembles. Your eyes roll back as the lightheaded feeling makes you dizzy.

“Swallow,” Leona commands. And you do, opening your mouth to show you had. “Heh. Come here.”

His hands settle on your waist as he takes in your lingerie. His gaze a mix of adoration and lust that leaves you feeling bashful under the heat of his stare. “So fucking pretty.” Your cheeks warm and you stare at the floor, making him chuckle. “Why so shy now? You were quite bold earlier leaving that photo in that box with your cute little note. What did it say again?”

You climb back into his lap. Your breath hitches as his cock brushes against your clothed clit. Your panties soaked and needy, desperately wanting Leona in your most intimate region. “I don’t remember,” you tease. “Maybe remind me?”

Leona grins. His hands are soft against your skin. “I think it said something like…hurry up. And what else? Your pretty pussy is waiting to be unwrapped?”

“Hm that sounds about right. So then-“ You rock your hips against Leona’s. “What are you still waiting for?”

His mouth is on yours again, sucking all the remaining air out of your lungs. The two of you tumble into the bed, tearing at each other’s clothes until there’s nothing separating the two of you except your lacy panties. Leona has you pinned underneath him. He traces down your jaw and the side of your neck, biting down on the sensitive spot near your clavicle.

“Since your pretty pussy was wrapped up so nicely for me, it is only fair if I have a little taste, no?”

Leona settles in between your legs, pressing his nose against your cunt to inhale your intoxicating smell. He suppresses a groan. Your scent alone was addicting. It was like he was drunk on you, and he couldn’t think about anything but the way you’d feel around his cock. But first-

He pulls down your panties with his teeth. Dragging the thin fabric around the curve of your plush thighs before dropping them on the floor. Your folds are glistening with your arousal, pretty and puffy. And all his.

With a tight grip on your thighs, Leona takes a lick at your core, pressing his rough tongue against your pussy’s lips. The first wave of pleasure shoots through you which has you trembling. “You taste so good,” Leona groans. He eats you out greedily, tongue moving in and out of your folds.

“Fuck Leona!” Your back arches off the bed as Leona nips at your clit. He buries his face deeper in between your thighs, bringing you to the brink of release. Your body tries to writhe away from him, but his grip keeps you pinned down. You come with a low cry, Leona’s name on your tongue.

Leona drinks you down. His cock is now painfully stiff against his abdomen. All just from the addicting taste of your arousal. He stifles a groan, wrapping his hand around his shaft. He was so hard it fucking hurt.

“I’m going to fuck you in every way possible,” Leona says, licking his lips clean. The tip of his cock prods at your wet entrance. He grips your hips, trying to ease himself in. “I’m going to pump you so full of my cum that there’s no way you won’t leave this room without getting pregnant. After all, you were the one that went behind my back and promised my mother a grand kid.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to whisper, “then you better get to it.”

Leona growls. He pushes into your cunt, groaning at how you squeeze around him. His head drops to your shoulder as his body trembles as a wave of pleasure courses through him. A low curse leaves his lips.

“L-Leo? Y-you okay?” You whimper.

“Just give me a minute.” He kisses you, softly this time. “I’m trying to control myself so that I don’t hurt you.”

“It’s okay. You can be a little rough.”

Leona’s ears twitch. He could feel his dick throb at your words. You groan as his size seems to swell.

“Heh, you asked for it.” Leona folds your legs to your chest making you gasp. “Don’t go begging me to stop later. Because I’m not until you’re carrying my cubs.”

“Please fuck me, Leona,” you mewl.

Rolling his hips, Leona pulled his cock from your hole and with a sharp snap, drove himself back into you. The sheer force of his scorching length shot the first wave of pleasure through the both of you. The two of you let out low moans.

Your body shuddered slightly anticipation. You clung to Leona and dug your nails in his shoulders trying to keep him close. That first penetration gave way to a succession of increasingly rougher thrusts that took your breath away.

“A-ah L-leona t-too much,” you babble. Leona growls, pushing your legs closer, burying his cock even deeper. “Leona!”

“I told you-“ Leona grunts, continuing his brutal pace. “You asked for it. You wanted it rough.” His cock kisses that particular sweet spot, making your insides tense. You cry out as your orgasm leaves you seeing stars. Your legs shake over his shoulder, and a tight pressure coils within your stomach.

“Fuck you’re squeezing me so much,” Leona groaned. “You like when I pound into you like this, don’t ya? Your pussy’s gonna fuckin’ kill me.” Your nails rake into his back, leaving bright red marks. You clamp down on his shoulder, biting so hard you broke the skin. Leona lets out a low hiss. “I’m gonna come-“

A loud moan left his lips. His hips stilled and his release hit. You shivered feeling yourself be filled while your own orgasm hit, this time with more intensity. Leona slowly pulled out and sat back on his heels. His seed leaks from your swollen sex on to the bed sheets. You let out a quiet whimper and push your fingers into your cunt, trying to stop it from spilling out. Once more, his cock stirs, the carnal desire within him burning.

“Are you okay?” Leona swallows, trying to maintain a sense of control. You sleepily nod. “Good.”

You squeak as you’re suddenly and roughly manhandled. Leona flips you on to your hands and knees, shoving your face into the pillows. “L-Leona-“

“Sorry, kitten-“ You gasp as he enters once more, his thick cock stretching your walls until you feel so full of him. Leona squeezes your hips, pushing his cock deeper. “but I want to enjoy my gift a little longer.”

~*~

You and Leona had been gone for hours.

Breakfast passes without your presence. And needless to say, neither Farena nor Neji are pleased. It is only due to Farena’s mother’s insistence that the two don’t venture off to look for the missing family members.

“Just leave them be,” the older lioness would dismiss.

“But mother, Leona-“ Farena huffed.

“It’s fine. They’re probably busy with wedding stuff. Some things they need to figure out on their own as a couple.”

You and Leona don’t emerge until right before dinner, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. Like you hadn’t snuck off to fuck for a couple hours.

“Auntie Y/n!” Cheka excitedly runs over to you. You bend down, despite the ache in your hips and lower back to catch his hug. Cheka gives you an odd look as you pick him up. He looks at you then to Leona, back to you and then his uncle. It’s like he’s searching for something and when he doesn’t find it, he sulks in disappointment.

“Whatcha looking for Cheka?” Farena asks.

“Auntie said she and Leona would give me a cousin for Christmas, but I don’t see them.” The cub continues to pout.

Immediately, your face explodes red, and Leona rubs his temple in annoyance. The situation doesn’t improve as now the attention is on the two of you and what you were most likely doing in your absence. Leona and Farena’s mother only laughs in amusement. She spent the last several hours covering for you, so if you didn’t have a grandchild for her in the next nine months she’d be highly disappointed.

#twisted wonderland #twst #x reader #leona kingscholar #twst x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar imagines #leona kingscholar smut #twst imagines #twst smut #leona x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland smut #twst x yuu

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landoscult · 17 days ago

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wish list | carlos sainz smau — #55

where carlos is the number one gift on y/n's wish list

WARNINGS!!!

english isn't my first language so sorry if anything is wrong!

happy holidays y'all! i hope you're having a great time with ur loved ones. don't forget to let me know what u think about it <3

liked by charlesleclerc, ynnorris, carlossainzoficial and 1mi others

carlossainz55 Escape the cold this Christmas. Feliz navidad a todos! ✅️👏

view all 35.937 comments

carlosfan PEOPLE DIED

carlosfan2 whAT-

landonorris looking good

ynnorris RIGHT !!!!

ynnorris i mean merry christmas carlos! 🤩

carlosfan2 Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

ynnorris just appreciating the view

liked by carlossainz55 and others

landonorris DELETE

carlossainz55 Oh @ynnorris Hi!

landonorris SHUT UP GET OUT NO ONE CALLED YOU HERE

carlossainz55 mate this is my post

landonorris I DON'T CARE

carlossainzoficial 👏👏👏

carlosfan4 Y/N AND CARLOS COMMENTS IM HAVING A VISION

carlosfan5 SIR RESPECTFULLY WE ARE HAVING A HEART ATTACK

liked by flonorris1, lilyzneimer, carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes and 157.937 others

ynnorris a very merry christmas from the norris sisters 💘

view all 1.487 comments

landofan PRETTIEST

lilymhe okay but do you want 💍 me?

ynnorris just tell me when and where

alex_albon excuse me?

ynnorris oh hi alex merry christmas to you too 🥰

flonorris1 love you forever 💖

ciscanorris my babies!!! 👏👏

landonorris what about me

ynnorris no one cares about you

carlossainz55 Merry Christmas to you and your family, y/n! 🥰

carlandofan everyone is seeing what i am seeing or

carlosfan1 they had never commented on each other's posts what is going on

landofan3 THEY ARE DATING

carlandofan2 girl what??? lando wouldn't be living if this happens

ynnorris thanks carlos! i hope u liked your present ❤️

landonorris WHAT PRESENT

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, flonorris1, yourbestfriend and 235.937 others

ynnorris if Santa doesn't exist how did a get my number 1 gift? 💌

view all 10.387 comments

yourbestfriend face card never declining as always

yourbestfriend wait 🤭 is it a soft lauch?

ynnorris when you know you know

landonorris KNOW WHAT

landonorris who is that men i don't like him

carlossainz55 No way your twin sister didn't tell you anything

landofan1 WHY CARLOS DID YOU KNOW SOMETHING

landonorris YES WHY CARLOS WHAT DID YOU KNOW THAT I DON'T KNOW

ynnorris you'll be surprised when you found out my lovely brother ❤️

landonorris i hate you both

carlossainz55 great view! 👏

carlandofan there's no view only hers photos 😭😭😭

liked by ynnorris and others

carlosfan2 I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

anasainzvdec prettyyy 🤩

#f1 imagines #lando norris #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n

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fawninthesnow · 16 days ago

Text

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞: 1 | Maternal! figure | Caracalla & Geta

Summary: You visit the young princes in the palace.

Warnings: Fluff, (slight) angst

Work count: 400~

a/n: Keep in mind they are around 14-16 here and orphaned already. After looking through some deleted scenes from the script, I found that all the boys want is to be adopted and loved. Here is something short for that with the holidays and all.

More on my Master list! + follow & like pls

Caracalla hovered over his brother's slumbering form in bed and gently shook his arm. “Is she coming?” The young man nudged him harder. “Are you awake?”

Geta groaned and turned over. “I am now.”

“Is she coming?”

“She said she would, but I am unsure.” He groaned in the dark of his bedroom. He reached for a candle, “You need to go back to bed. Come on.” Caracalla trailed behind his brother as they made their way down the hall. A noise emanating from the emperor’s foyer piqued their interest. The two boys cautiously approached the source of the sound.

You stood in front of the fire, removing the fur coat from your back. “Yes, that would be perfect.” You replied as a servant offered tea. “Are the boys asleep?” The two peeked into the room from the corridor.

“Yes, the princes are still in their beds.”

“She is here early.” Caracalla whispered with a giggle.

“I can hear you two.” Your voice was rich and velvety as you called the two out. The two brothers stepped out from the shadow of the pillars. “Come here.”

****

You held Geta to your bosom as Caracalla lay on your lap. Your fingertips buried in the eldest son’s hair; your opposite hand rubbed Caracalla’s back. “They treat us like we are our father.” Geta murmured.

“The people of Rome should be grateful for you two.” Caracalla turned up, staring at you. “Rome, she will soon see, my boys.”

Geta closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet aroma of lilies and vanilla that surrounded you. Your skin was smooth and sun-kissed, reminiscent of freshly harvested honey. Caracalla nestled against your thigh, soaking in the warmth emanating from you. “The people are now celebrating with their families.”

“Yes, the winter solstice.” Caracalla leaned close, speaking softly into your clothing. Meanwhile, his brother stepped outside onto the open veranda, gazing down at the bustling city square below. The square was alive with people—some joyful, some inebriated, and others lost in dance.

“You both used to celebrate with your parents, yes?” The two went silent. Your fingertips cupped Caracalla’s face. “Well, you can celebrate with me.” Geta accepted your soft gaze finally, looking into your eyes. “Ah, I nearly forgot. I brought gifts from home!” You stood and Caracalla followed you.

From your trunk, you take out a few velvet boxes. “I, I have been reading your…your letter at night.” Caracalla fished for a worn paper from his robe.

“Aren’t you cute…” You present the two of them with a variety of gifts. “I have missed you both so much.”

Part 2 <3 Happy holidays, everyone!!

More on my Master list!

follow & like pls

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fungateshortcakes · 17 days ago

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Crochet me a mistletoe

Got this idea because, well, it's christmas and I recently started crocheting! I am nowwhere near as good as I described the skills of the reader. I can't even crochet a simple scarf. But practice makes perfect, and a girl can dream right? (Reader is gender neutral)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Its christmas at the mansion and you've crocheted everyone a special gift. What will Logan think about the present you made especially for him?

Wordcount: 4.9k

Warnings/tags: english is not my first language, none, fluff, slowburn-ish, friends to lovers, reader can crochet, painfully sappy, missunderstandings?, itty bitty bits of angst, happy ending

The x-men mansion in december felt like stepping into a festive snow globe. Frosted windows framed the place, a hord of students racing through the halls as they were excited to spent the christmas holidays at home with their families, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of christmas jingles that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

The large tree in the main living room was a masterpiece, each ornament carefully placed by a team effort of students and teachers. Even Logan had been forced politely asked to string the lights, grumbling about it the whole time while he was secretly ensuring that every lightbulb was perfectly in its place. Despite your reassurance that it was fine and that he could come down from the ladder already, he shook his head, a deep frown on his face as he munched on his bottom lip as he rearranged the lights for the 1000th time.

You sighed with a smile, deciding to let him do his thing. Yet you found yourself sneaking glances at him, something you had been doing more often than you cared to admit over the last few months.

He was rugged, rough around the edges and seemingly utterly out of place among the cheery holiday decorations, but there was something about seeing him standing by the firelight, a string of glittery garlands for the tree slung over his shoulder, that made your heart flutter.

But Logan was just your friend. A good one. And you weren’t about to mess that up by acting on a silly crush that wasn't anything more than that. So, instead of drooling at the way his muscles strained and dipped under the wife beater he wore even in this freezing weather while he helped decorating the place, you threw yourself into your newest hobby: crocheting.

For weeks, you had been holed up in your room, learning and practicing how to crochet everything from scarves, mittens and hats to cute plushies and useful items such as cup coasters or little bags.

It had started as a way to pass the time, especially when there was no mission you were sent to. And now that you were deep into the christmas holidays, you didn't even have a class to teach. That's when you realised you had nothing to do and it was time to find a new hobby.

But once you got the hang of it and felt like it wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, the idea of creating handmade gifts for your friends at the mansion had blossomed and you were eager to make a perfect present for everyone.

The work was slow but rewarding. You had already finished a soft scarf for Ororo in her favorite lavender colour that complimented her snow white hair and a set of soft, fingerless gloves for Hank in a deep navy blue. Each project felt like a little piece of yourself, stitched into every loop and knot.

But Logans gift had been different from the start.

It had taken you three tries to find the right yarn until you finally settled on a charcoal gray that would suit his style and features without standing out too much.

You decided on a sweater, something warm and practical that he could wear during the long, cold nights he spent patrolling the grounds. And, because you couldn’t help yourself, you added a small, personal touch. A tiny design embroidered over the heart, a pair of crossed claws encircled by a wreath of holly. You might as well, right? This project would take you a long ass time anyway, so a little embroidery wouldn’t hurt.

Crocheting actual clothing pieces like sweaters and jackets was a painstacking process, taking up lots and lots of yarn and taking forever. Only people you loved were worth that effort. You hoped Logan would know that once he held the finished products in hand.

Now with christmas eve approaching fast, the sweater was nearly finished. But you had other projects that you worked on simultaniously. If the task of crocheting another long chain for a scarf became too dreading and boring, you switched it up by continuing to work on a plushie.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna get yourself snowed in if you keep sittin’ there.”

Logans voice startled you, making you lose the stitch you were in. You looked up from your crocheting to find him leaning against the doorframe of the common room. The fireplace crackled warm beside you and outside the tall open window, there were snowflakes swirling in a gentle flurry. You sat cozy on the windowsill in your warmest clothes, enjoying the crisp breeze against your face and watching how the snow painted the garden of the mansion in a dazzling bright white, all while absentmindely crocheting your gifts.

“I like the view” you answered him with a soft smile, the yarn rolling between your feet as you pull at it “And I’m almost done.”

Logan left his spot at the door and stepped into the room, his boots making soft thuds on the wooden floor. “What’re you makin’?” You shook your head as you did only a little to hide the plushie you were crocheting “It’s a surprise” you teased.

Logan raised an eyebrow, hand in his pant pockets, his lips quirking into a smirk. “For me?”

You rolled your eyes with a soft giggle. “Only if you want a teddy bear plush in Scott's outfit" you said, throwing him a knowing look.

He shuddered in mild disgust, chuckled, then settled into the armchair across from you. “Nah, I'm good" he replied, putting his hands up in defence. Then his gaze landed on the bottom of the sweater, his soon to be sweater, that poked out from under your blanket draped over your lap. He pointed to it "I think one of 'em ugly christmas sweaters you are makin' would suit Summers better" he joked, thinking you would laugh along, but he noted your slight hurt frown. Him saying that he thought christmas sweaters were ugly made your heart sting painfully. You pulled the sweater under your blanket completely, shielding it from Logan. “It’s not ugly,” you mumbled, averting eyecontact with him.

In that moment, you weren't too sure about your gift for Logan anymore. The sweater you would give him wasn’t the usual christmas sweater with bright colours and corny patterns, but still, maybe he wasn't a sweater person? What if he didn't like it? He would never say it to your face, but just imagining his unimpressed face, a forced smile as he reluctantly thanked you, already thinking about the best and fastes way to get rid of the clothing piece, it made you want to cry already. All this effort for nothing?

You hadn't realised that you stared at Logan while you where deep in thought, a lit cigar hanging lazily between his lips. “Why’re you always starin’ at me?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Your face heated. “I wasn’t staring. Just thinking” you pressed out, quickly picking up your crocheting again.

Logan blew smoke from out of his nostrils “Sure you weren’t” he said, but there was no teasing in his tone. If anything, he sounded curious, curious of what exactly you where thinking with your brows knitted together.

You focused on the yarn in your hands, on the way your hook looped easily through every stitch, willing yourself to act normal. This was fine. You were fine. “You’re workin’ too hard” Logan muttered after a moment. “Spendin’ all your time on this.”

You shrugged “It’s worth it” you smiled without looking up. “I want everyone to have something special this year. And what's more special than a present made especially for them. I guess the best gift is when someone thinks of you”

Logan looked at you. Looked at you for a long second and didn’t respond right away. When you finally glanced at him, his expression was unreadable, his gaze already turned away and fixed on the fire. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, ask him what he meant by that, Logan stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His white tank top rode up slightly as he stretched, your eyes staring at the dimples on his back before you shook your head, your cheeks on fire.

“Don’t stay up too late” he called, heading towards the door. “Santa don’t visit if you’re awake.”

You laughed, nodding your head dismissive manner “Goodnight, Logan.”

Logan smiled softly as he looked back at you one more time “Night, darlin’.” And then he was gone. You looked down at the half-finished sweater under your blanket, your chest tight as you sighed.

The mansion was alive with holiday excitement the next morning, despite the kids not being there. But if they were, you just knew that they would be buzzing about presents and sneaking peaks under the towering Christmas tree already.

You spent most of the day putting the finishing touches to most of your gifts, tucked away in a quiet corner of the common room. All your presents were nearly finished, except for the sweater you had planned on gifting Logan. You couldn't bring yourself to work on it anymore. You couldn't even look at it, too ashamed that you even came up with this idea.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that Logan appeared in the common room, carrying an armful of firewood. He always looked so effortlessly strong when he carried stuff, it almost made you drool over his forearms and hands. His flannel shirt was rolled up to his elbows, exposing his hairy forearms that had tiny snowflakes clinging to it.

You glanced up from your crocheting, trying not to stare too obviously.

“You been at that all day?” Logan asked, dropping the firewood near the fireplace with a loud thunk. He tried not to smile as he saw you bundled up with balls of yarn and wrapping paper surrounding you, a few ready gifts already stacked on top of the other, a hot cocoa with marshmallows steaming next to you on the coffee table.

“Almost done wrapping everything” you cheered, holding up a crocheted beanie for charles to keep his head warm.

Logans gaze locked onto the garment in your hands. His expression softened for a brief moment before he caught himself and cleared his throat. “Looks good” he said gruffly, turning his attention to the fireplace again.

You smiled faintly, folding the beanie neatly and tucking it into a small box with a gift card and putting it on the stack of finished presents after you wrote Charles name on it “Thanks.”

Logan unsheathed his claws and striked a match on one of them, shaking the tiny flame on a stick before throwing it to the pile of freshly chooped logs “You should take a break. All that knittin' and crochetin' must your fingers” Logan grumbled, blowing at the fire until the flames started to flicker to life, casting a warm glow across the room.

“I will once I am done with all of this” you replied to him, wrapping the next present aside. “it won't take long" Logan straightened back up, brushing his rugged hands on his jeans. “So, what are your plans tonight? Besides playin’ Santa Claus.”

“Ororo planned to watch a christmas movie with the team, I guess I will join them later” you replied, stretching your back a littlesince you had been sitting like a shrimp for the past few days, hunched over your projects. “Why, what about you?”

Logan shrugged "Not much" he cleared his throat “Might head out for a bit. Get some air.”

“On Christmas Eve?”

Logan gave a small, almost shy smile and shrugged “Never been much for all the holiday stuff.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You could stay in. Watch the movie with us.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours. “Yeah? You think they wouldn’t mind?”

Your eyebrows raised as he seemed so unsure “Of course not" you denied, smiling warmly. “I can promise that they all want you there, Logan. I know I do"

That evening, the two of you settled into the couch along with Jean and Scott, a bowl of popcorn between you. Ororo sat draped over the seat next to the sofa, Rouge and Remy sitting in front of you on the ground while Kurt was sprawled out right in front of the TV, looking up at the flimmering box with a toothy smile. Even Charles had rolled in to join.

The movie, a classic Christmas move, The Grinch, to be exact, played on the screen, and even though it was one of your favourite christmas movies, you found yourself paying more attention to Logan than the plot.

He was unusually relaxed despite everyone being so huddled up together, leaning back against the cushions with his arms crossed over his chest. You fleetingly looked over to the present neatly tucked away under the tree. His sweater. You had decided to finish it after bickering over it for so long. Well, you didn't exactly have time to make him anything else. And if you did, it would only be half assed. And you didn't want that, Logan deserved more. Something special.

Halfway through the movie, Logan reached for the popcorn, his hand brushing against yours briefly. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a spark up your arm and you felt like you were part of a cheesy and cliche slowburn fanfiction.

You quickly pulled your hand away, your heart racing. “Sorry” he muttered, his voice gruff and quiet as to not alert the others. “It’s okay” you whispered back, trying to sound normal.

The room fell into a comfortable silence again, the only sounds coming from the TV, the crackling fire and a little hushed banter between Rouge and Remy. But you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Logan, your chest tightening with every second you spent sitting so close to him.

“Thanks for talkin' me into this” Logan said suddenly, his voice low. “Didn’t think I’d enjoy it much, but… it’s nice.” Your lips curved into a soft smile. “I’m glad.”

He looked at you then, his dark eyes catching the light of the fire. There was something in his gaze you couldn’t quite place, something warm and unguarded, even though a lot of people were around that could potentionally witness it. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared, leaving just the two of you sitting by the fire, the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting in his eyes.

Then Logan cleared his throat quietly, breaking the spell. “You’re really something else, I hope you know that” he muttered, his voice rough but sincere.

Your cheeks heated, and you looked down at your lap. There they were again, his words from yesterday. The thoughts you had repeated in your head the whole night, not knowing what they represented. “What do you mean?”

“You put all this work into makin’ people happy, to make 'em feel included even though they weren't into it at first.” He explained, draping a muscled arm over the frame of the couch. "You force people into their luck, ya know? Haven't seen anything quite like it"

You brushed a lock behind your ear. "I guess I just wanted to do something nice” you smiled softly. Logan let out a deep, content breath through his nose, looking at you, his eyes soft “Well, you did." Logan said, his gaze lingering on you.

For a second, you thought he might reach out and let the arm that rested over the couch snake around your shoulder to pull you into him, but then he shifted in his seat, his hand retreating to his side.

By the time the movie ended, everyone said their goodbyes and goodnights, swarming out to their rooms to sleep, letting the mansion fall quiet. Only Logan and you were left. You also wanted to just fall into your bed and sleep, but you were too tired already to get yourself moving.

Logan was the first to stand, stretching his arms over his head and giving you a good view of the prominent vein that cascaded below his waistband. You started to think he was doing this on purpose. “Guess I’ll head to bed too" he yawned, his tone thick.

Goodnight, Logan” you replied, watching as he headed toward the door.

He paused before leaving, turning back to look at you. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was soft when he spoke. “Night, darlin’. Sleep well.”

When he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The morning sun filtered through the frosted windows of the mansion, bathing the common room in a golden glow.

Christmas Day had finally arrived, and the mansion buzzed with the christmas spirit of all. It was a bit overwhelming to see everyone in their christmas pyjamas sitting around the tree, eager for presents.

Logan was already there too, leaning against the mantle with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Well, you liked to sleep in okay? It wasn’t hard to be down in the common room before you.

Logans presence was as steady as ever, but there was a quiet contentment to him this morning, you noted. He looked up as you entered and something in his expression softened.

“Mornin’” he greeted, his voice low, smooth and warm from the hot coffee he was drinking. You lifted your hand in a tiny wave “Morning” you yawned, smiling as you made your way to the tree, the rest of carefully wrapped gifts in your arms that you had finished just the night before after the movie. You couldn't sleep anyway since the thought of Logan made you stay awake, might as well perfect your presents.

After a while, it was your turn to hand out your presents. You crawled under the large tree, gifting them one by one. You watched in glee as the room filled with laughter and delighted exclamations. Ororo beamed when she unwrapped the lavender scarf you had made for her and Hank was already slipping on his navy gloves. Charles shooked his head with a chuckle as he saw the beanie you had crocheted for him, letting his fingers trace over it.

Logan waited patiently, allthough he didn'texpect there to be something for him, his dark eyes following you as you worked your way through the pile of gifts, quietly enjoying the unfiltered reactions from everyone.

When there was only one wrapped gift left you had to hand out, Logan wondered who it could be for since everyone had gotten their present already. But as you turned to him, handing him the neatly wrapped box containing his sweater, his brow lifted in surprise.

“For me?” he asked, as if the idea of receiving a gift was foreign to him.

You giggled at his reaction "Of course. Did you really think I wouldn't give you something?" you asked, smiling shyly. You were just as nervous for him to open the present as he was.

Logan carefully peeled back the paper, his hands oddly delicate for a man who seemed to handle everything with brute strength. When the sweater emerged, he stared at it for a long moment, his thumb brushing over the tiny embroidered design near the heart. He remembered the colour. This was the sweater he had called ugly. He had called your thoughtful gift ugly. He was a horrible person.

“You made this? For me?" he whispered in awe, a little more to himself, his eyes tearing up slightly.

“I did” you nodded, fiddling with your fingers as your nerves ate away at your insides. “Do you like it?”

He looked up at you, his gaze piercing. “I...this is…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he unfolded the sweater and pulled it on right then and there over his tank top. The fit was perfect and the sight of him in something you made with your own hands sent a warm flush through your chest. He looked like a chunky teddy bear and the urge to hug him was growing strong in your chest.

“Looks good on you” you said instead.

Logan’s lips twitched into a rare smile. “Feels good, too. Thank you.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of holiday cheer, but you couldn’t help noticing how Logan stuck close to you. He lingered near the kitchen while you baked cookies with Ororo and Rouge, his presence steady and reassuring. At one point, you caught him running his fingers over the sweaters fabric, his expression distant but content. He protected the sweater with his life, making sure no one ruined it by accidentally pouring wine over it. If just one atom of a cookie crumb were to touch the fabric, he would lash out.

It wasn’t until later that evening, after most had gone to bed and the mansion had settled into a peaceful quiet, that Logan found you sitting by the fire.

“You’ve been busy” he mumbled, his voice low as he sat down beside you.

“I guess I have,” you said, smiling. “It was worth it, though.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable like usual. Then he shifted and the next second, his big hand presented you a tiny wooden figurine, a little cat, carefully hand carved by him. "S'for you" he muttered, averting his gaze. The light of the fire did only so little to hide his embarrassed blush.

You gasped, taking the cat into your hands as if it was made out of glass and would break if you looked at it the wrong way "Did you....did you make this?" you asked him and he nodded reluctantly. You never thought Logan was into wood carving. But now that you knew, it made sense. "Yeah...didn't want to give it to you when everyone else was 'round. No need for 'em to know I have this hobby" he explained to you, picking at a loose thread on his sweater. Your stomach felt warm as you thanked him, holding onto his little present tightly.

You could feel Logans gaze on you as you admired his neat craftmansship, warm and steady and it took everything in you not to lean into him.

“Y’know” he said, breaking the drawn out silence between you “this is the best christmas I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.”

You looked up at him “Really?” you asked, your mouth agape in wonder.

“Yeah” he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile that was rare to see from him “And I think I’ve got you to thank for that.” Your heart swelled and before you could stop yourself, you reached out and placed your hand over his. Logan stiffened for only a short moment, his gaze darting to your hand, but then he relaxed, his fingers curling around yours.

“You’re welcome” you whispered softly. Logan didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

The fire started to die out, only faintly gleaming but still enough to wrap you and Logan in a light of warmth. Logans hand was still in yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as the quiet surrounded you both. You couldn’t remember how long you had been sitting there, since when you started to lean against him, head on his shoulder, but time seemed to stretch and slow, every second weighted with something unsaid.

“Darlin’” Logan finally murmured, his voice so soft it felt like it was meant for you alone. “Do you ever think about… settlin’ down?” the question caught you off guard for a second and you turned your head to look at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Settling down?”

“Yeah” he breathed, his gaze fixed on the low fire. He found an iron rod to dig and shove between the wooden logs that had long turned into coal and ash, trying to distract himself so the words would come easier. “Findin’ somethin’, someone, you can hold onto. Somethin’ real. Y'know, not these kinds of meaningless situationships.”

Your breath hitched and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Logan, the man who had always seemed like a force of nature. Wild, untamed and unyielding—looked almost vulnerable now, his expression open and unguarded.

“I guess I’ve thought about it. It would be nice to have that someone. The right person you can lean onto any time” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like you were leaning against that one person just now. “Have you?”

He let out a soft, almost self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t think I had to. Thought I wasn’t the type for all that. But lately…” He trailed off, finally turning to meet your gaze, looking down at you cuddled up against him “Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ maybe I was wrong.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. “Logan” you began, your voice trembling slightly “what are you trying to say?” allthough the answer seemed obvious, you feared you weren't understanding him correctly.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m tryin’ to say that I care about you. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I know I’m not the easiest guy to be around, but… you make me wanna try. Make me wanna be better.”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Logan…” were you imagining things? Were you actually by the windowstill, all alone, dying from the cold Logan warned you about? The cold that looked gorgeous from inside a warm room but was vicious in its beauty, killing you because you wouldn't listen and close the window? Were you just taking your last breath, your mind tricking you into dreaming about what could be?

“I know I’m probably messin’ this up" he swallowed deeply, his voice rough with emotion. “But I had to tell you. Couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

His words were real, his warmth, his soft breath fanning across your face. You weren't dying. You were just starting to live. “You’re not messing anything up" you shook your head, voice breaking slightly.

His eyes searched yours and for the first time, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. “You mean that?”

Instead of answering, you leaned up, closing the space between you. Logan froze for a split second before his arms came around you, pulling you close into his lap as your lips met in a kiss that felt like coming home after a harsh and straining day out in the cold.

It was soft and tentative at first, but as the seconds stretched on, it deepened, the barriers between you dissolving like snow in the sun. Your hands laid flat against his chest, feeling the warm and fuzzy fabric underneath your fingers. Logan sighed from his nose as the kiss deepened, a quiet, longing noise forming in the back of his throat.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the silence of the room.

“I care about you too” you whispered. “More than I can even put into words.”

Logan let out a soft, shaky laugh, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Guess that makes us both pretty bad at talkin’ about feelings.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of relief. “Maybe. But I think we’re doing okay.”

Logan nodded “Better than okay" he murmured, pressing another kiss to your mouth. He was already getting addicted to this.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of warmth and quiet joy. Logan stayed by your side, his hand never straying far from yours as the two of you talked about everything and nothing. You felt like two teenagers that had sneaked away from everyone else to enjoy the thrill of making out and cuddling like in a sappy romance novel.

By the time the first light of dawn crept through the windows, you found yourselves curled up on the couch together, a soft blanket draped over you both. Logans arm was around your shoulders, and your head rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long while. The sweater he still hadn't taken off (and wouldn’t for a while) acting like a soft pillow under your face.

“Good night, darlin'” Logan murmured, his lips brushing against your hair before he looked out the window, the sun rising slowly. He knew it wouldn’t take long before the others flodded the room, but he wanted you to sleep and rest, even if it was just for an hour. He kind of felt bad for keeping you up until the sun literally rose again, but how was he supposed to fall asleep when he just found out you loved him back?

“Good night, Logan” you whispered, smiling as you closed your eyes.

For the first time, you knew without a doubt that this was where you were meant to be - wrapped in Logans arms, your hearts stitched together like the threads of a handmade gift, stronger and more beautiful for the care put into every moment you shared with him.

I've never tried putting dividers like this before, how do we like it? I am also sorry that I am not quite posting this on christmas anymore. I just always get the ideas so late and randomly that I can't get it out on time.

I can't type anymore bc my hands are literally that cold and now, update, i read over it and corrected some mistakes. If you still see any, im sorry😔🙏🏻 I've fallen you all

Merry christmas🎄🎀

#logan howlett x reader #x men #hugh jackman #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x reader #marvel #logan howlett #logan wolverine #marvel mcu #mcu fandom #logan james howlett #fanfiction #fluff #christmas

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icanseethefuture333 · 20 days ago

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18+ PAC: Who wants to slide down your chimney? 🎅🏼🍪🥛

A very nonsense Christmas collab with @icyg4l ❤️🎄🎁 happy holidays everyone!

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

In & Out by Red Velvet

Stay The Night by The Internet

Sex With Me by Rihanna

Seven of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, The Empress, Sing, Drink Tea, Soulmate, & Fun Times

Howdy, pile 1 🤠! It’s giving: “I’m working late ‘cus I’m a singer~🎤” there’s something about needing to warm up your throat 👀☕️? Oh my 🤭 this person really wants to hear your voice. Maybe you and this person meet during karaoke. I’m getting that they are also very vocal in the bedroom and wants to voice their needs and wants. I’m getting a “wife pleaser” so something about being in a tank top and boxers or pajamas. This person loves seeing you dress casually or being comfortable. They also adore your bare face or admire how your face looks with no makeup. Your sp could be considered grounded and attentive, they are in tuned with their emotions. They could know how to please the opposite sex and are in touch with their feminine side (especially if it’s someone with masculine energy). I’m seeing that they want to rub you through your panties/briefs 🫠, pushing it to the side as they rub your knit🧶/play with your snowballs ☃️. If you came, they would lick and/or suck their fingers. Admiring your taste and smell. They really enjoy having fun with you, pile 1! Perhaps this is a coworker or someone you’ll meet in a bar. They are charming and have a suave way about how they carry themselves. Confident but not cocky. This person will want to buy you a drink or offer to take you out on a date. I’m even seeing you having a little too much eggnog. You guys might even have public sex or have sex in the bathroom?! 😅 yeah y’all are definitely going on Santa’s naughty list😈

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

Lay You Down by Jimmy Brown

we fell in love in october by girl in red

HOT TO GO! by Chappell Roan

Knight of Wands, The Emperor, Queen of Pentacles, Burning Bowl Ritual, Massage, True Love, & Friendship

Cheers, pile 2 🥂! You may have felt drawn to pile 1 as well, I recommend that you read both! Anyways, I’m seeing romance and lust blossoming possibly between the same sex. You could be a part of the LGBTQ community or perhaps you are friends with people who are queer. You seem to be open minded and eager to try new experiences. I believe that you are someone who is level headed and capable of taking care of themselves. Responsible but also down to party. Your friends greatly appreciate you! I’m seeing you meeting this person at a club or a crowded holiday party. For some of you this will be a dinner party. This person will be eyeing you from across the room and will come over to speak you, you might feel nervous around this person because there is a mutual attraction that you don’t experience too often. You guys will spend the entire night talking and one or the other will invite them back to their place. “Chestnuts roasting by an open fire~” 🪵🔥. You and this person could have sex on the couch or by the fireplace. You will take charge of them and ride on top. The sex could be slow but get progressively harder and faster 🥵. I feel that you needed this more than this person does lol but they will love being at your mercy. Perhaps it’s been a long time since you had sex or a good orgasm, this person will provide just that. I’m seeing you roaming your hands over their body and massaging, grabbing, or groping at their flesh. This person will have a firm grip on your hips and would graze their fingers over your thighs. I believe for some of you this is a friend or an acquaintance, which could develop into something more overtime but for now will be a friends with benefits situation.

Pile 3:

Shufflemancy -

Sin City by Chrishan

Gentleman by KISS OF LIFE

Q U E V A S H A C E R H O Y? by Omar Courtz, De La Rose

Nine of Cups, Ace of Swords, The High Priestess, Chanting, Flow Like Water, Gifts, & Union

Have a ho ho ho-lly jolly Christmas, pile 3 👠! I have a strong feeling you might hook up with a fratboy or sorority girl. If they aren’t in a frat/sorority, then something about this person just gives that vibe. They could be pretty popular and attractive, so they are used to getting what they want. You might not care about this person at all but know you could gain something from them by hanging out with them. You could also just see them as hot but maybe lack total trust in them. They might come off as a typical “fuckboy/girl” to you, so you’re not entirely giving your heart to them, just wanting to enjoy the sleigh ride 🦌🛷 . Something about food play as well? Strawberries, whip creams, or popsicles. They really like your lips so lots of passionate kissing or they want to receive head from you. They can be pretty cocky in the bedroom and once you guys start undressing your clothes, they will immediately smile once they see your body. You could be a brat and this person is a brat tamer. You will brush them off when they tease you and be like “whatever your dick isn’t even that big🙄”. You could also wear cute lingerie or your sp will want to keep it for themselves as a souvenir 😋. I feel like the sex would be raw or there won’t be any condoms (crazy work💀) or someone is on birth control at least. This person really likes your ass so I’m getting spankings and 🥛🥧. I feel like it would be so loooooud omg 😭 this person will have you chanting their name or I’m getting lots of “ooo yes!” and moaning. Some of you in this pile speak a foreign language, Spanish specifically - “si papi”. “I said the neighbors know my name they way you screamin scratchin yellin” Rip to your neighbors smh🫠

Pile 4:

Shufflemancy -

The Body by Wale ft. Jeremiah

A Seat by Arin Ray

2 hands by Tate McRae

Queen of Swords, Ten of Cups, Justice, Dance, Movement, Mature, & Children

Seasons greetings, pile 4 🌠! This person wants to be “Body to body, cheek to cheek🎶” they want your bodies dancing together between the sheets. Your sp appreciates closeness and wishes to be physically intimate. With this person, they are logical, decisive, and upfront. They value family and honor trust. They could be older than you or have a more traditional perspective on love. For some of you, someone has gray hairs developing (either you or them)🎅🏼. They might have children already as well. Perhaps they are divorced or have had children with former partners? It could also mean your sp is well established in their career and is wishing to settle. If you are already in a relationship with this person, then they could want to make love and have a baby over the holidays 🤰🫃. I’m seeing it would be just you guys alone for Christmas, enjoying a nice glass of wine or champagne. You and your person could be listening to music and will dance to slow jams and then it will progress into something more. Kissing and tearing each other’s clothes off as you stumble towards to the bedroom. “I saw Santa kissing mommy”!? If some of you have children and this isn’t their parent, I suggest you make sure your kids are asleep before kissing this person, they might snoop and be nosy 🤣. I’m seeing you mostly laying on your back or stomach during the act, switching positions from missionary to downward dog. This person wants to fuck with intention✨, by going deep and slow. Their goal is to make sure you climax and get to feel the pleasure you always give them. They are big on giving and receiving. I see this person even running a bath with rose petals or giving you massage afterwards, providing you with aftercare. What a heartwarming moment 💕

#pac #pick a card #18+ pac #pick a pile #18+ tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #manifest #manifestation #law of assumption #sabrina carpenter #nonsense #a very nonsense Christmas #christmas #Spotify

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zepskies · 1 month ago

Text

'Twas the Night...

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean listens, sometimes when you least expect it. This year, Christmas begins to become something new for both of you.

AN: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa gift for @eldritchlibertine! The idea is based on this request from @whichwitchwanda (a story prompted from the header image).

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff! Christmas feels. ❤️

A door burst open, and your eyes raised from the page. You nearly dropped your book into your lap when you saw it—the wide, bristled top of an evergreen tree trying to shove its way through the door of the bunker.

Or rather, it only seemed that way.

All the way up at the top of the rod iron staircase, grumbled cursing and muttering and arguing filtered down to you in the common room, where you were leaning back in your seat with an old copy of Wuthering Heights. You sat up, an incredulous smirk beginning to curve your lips.

“Dean, it’s not gonna fit.” That was Sam, obviously. You’d recognize his testy bitching anywhere.

“You kiddin’ me? All that work I spent sawing this thing outta the ground, I’m gonna damn well make it fit. Come on, put your big boy pants on.”

The equally familiar gruff, grousing tone of your man’s voice almost made you snort. You set down the book on the table and debated whether you were going to get up and try to help, or let them hash it out. You were surprised they hadn’t called out for you yet.

After a few more seconds of listening to their frustrated huffing and puffing, you shook your head and got up. You reached the top of the stairs, and their sounds of irritated, breathless struggle became even clearer.

“Dean,” Sam protested.

“Shut up. I’ve almost got it…”

“You’re gonna break the damn frame—”

“Something tells me you didn’t get this thing at Home Depot,” you remarked.

There was a pause, and Dean called your name questioningly. He also sounded a bit embarrassed.

“Yep, I’m here, Chevy Chase,” you said, laughing as you grabbed the branches that were stuck in the doorway. You bent them at the angle the guys needed to get the whole thing inside, and all too quickly you had to step out of the way as Sam and Dean broke through the doorway with the rest of the tree.

Sam caught himself on the wall, while Dean threw a hand out to grasp at the railing of the stairs. You grabbed Dean’s arm to help steady him. Once he had his feet planted, he slung an arm around your waist and looked down on you with a satisfied smile—one that he then aimed at Sam.

“See? Told you it would fit.”

“Where did you even get this thing?” you asked. You eyed Dean in curiosity, even as you were helping him stream the lights around this seven-foot monstrosity. You’d also taken great delight in putting on some holiday music. Now, Frank Sinatra’s “White Christmas” was playing from a Bluetooth speaker on the War Room table.

Dean shot you a distracted smile as he worked in concentration, bringing a string of lights around the part of the tree that was closest to the wall. He handed off the other end to you, and you wrapped the line of multicolored lights around.

“Eh, there’s a nice bit of forest a few miles out of town,” he said. Your brows raised high. You’d suspected, of course, but you still shook your head with a smile.

“You know you need a permit for that, right?” you said.

“I tried to tell him,” said Sam. He was on his way up the stairs, heading out back to the car to get the box of ornaments he and Dean bought at Walmart this morning along with the pretty multicolored lights, all while you were still sleeping.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, but just kept focused on his task. Once he started something, he had to finish it, you noticed. And when he got into something, he was Mr. DIY, putting in his all. You liked watching the crunch between his brows, the set of his lips, the sureness of his hands while he mentally calculated what they were going to accomplish next.

Most of all, you liked the look of self-satisfaction when he was done, and happy with his finished product. It didn’t matter if he was tuning up the Impala, making a home-cooked meal for the three of you, or decorating a wild tree. That face was the same.

“Illegally obtained tree aside,” you said, not bothering to temper your smile, “I thought you guys didn’t really celebrate Christmas. Or any holidays, for that matter.”

Dean gave you a small grin, though again, he seemed a little embarrassed. He freed one of his hands to scratch at the back of his head.

“Yeah, well…weren’t you the one who was talking about the Christmases you had growing up?” he said.

You blinked, your mouth gently falling open in surprise. That had been a couple weeks ago, when the first snow of December began to fall over Lebanon. Late that night, after settling into bed together, you’d turned towards him in his arms. Maybe it was the turn of the season making you nostalgic, but somehow the conversation drifted into you making a confession, about what you missed the most about your family.

Your parents had passed on, and your sister was distant. She had her own family and her own life, and she wanted to keep it far away from the things you hunted. You couldn’t blame her, even if the thought of her always pierced your heart.

Beyond than that, what you missed was the house where you grew up, small but cozy and lived in. You missed the smell of pine and cinnamon that filled the living room every day of December. You missed the nights you and your sister curled up by the fire late at night playing imaginary games, long after your parents’ had put you guys to bed. You missed your mother’s cooking, and helping her bake molasses cookies on Christmas Eve.

You missed togetherness, the feeling of warmth and safety.

You tilted your head at Dean.

“Yeah, but…” you trailed, not willing to finish the thought as another suspicion grew in your mind.

“Just thought we could do some of that this year for you, that’s all,” he said. And he shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. His hands were busy untangling some lights. “Matter of fact, we could all use the time off.”

You couldn’t help but pause. Your breathing shallowed, and no matter how much you fought it, tears stung in your eyes. You bit your lip to try and hold it all at bay. When Dean glanced up at you, he had to do a double take. It made you smile, despite your slightly blurring vision.

“Hey, what—”

You dropped your end of the lights and went to him. You raised up on your toes so you could wrap your arms around his neck in a warm hug. Dean uttered a surprised huff, but his arms came around your waist and gathered you closer. He soon realized he was still holding onto the tangle of lights, and he hung them on a nearby tree branch for now. His smile overtook his surprise and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I love you. You know that right?” Your voice was muffled in his neck, but he heard you well enough. He chuckled and slipped a soothing hand up and down your back.

“I do know, actually,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

A giggle escaped you. You tugged on his short hair in retaliation, making him chuckle.

“Hey,” he warned, but it had heat of a different kind. His hand began venturing down to your ass, but before he could do some retaliating of his own, a door swung open and Sam came down the stairs hefting a couple different boxes of ornaments.

He raised a brow, though he smiled at the way you and his brother were entwined. You half pulled away to nod at Sam, sniffling at quickly wiping at your face. Dean dried some of the wetness from the corner of your eye with a curled finger. You glanced up at him and couldn’t help blushing, smiling, despite your embarrassment.

Dean still had an arm wrapped around your waist as you peered over at the boxes Sam set down near the tree. One of them caught your attention and made your eyes widen.

“Oh my God. They’re Scooby Doo themed!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent decorating the tree with Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby echoing throughout the common room. After you made a trip to the grocery store, soon the smell of cinnamon, brown sugar and rich molasses joined the scent of pine throughout the entire bunker.

It was a Christmas Eve well spent. The night was filled with a rewatch marathon of Home Alone and Christmas Vacation. You agreed to Dean throwing in Elf into the mix, as long as you got to watch Love Actually, and The Holiday with Jude Law. Dean complained more than Sam about your girly chick-flicks, but he became just as invested in Colin Firth pouring his heart out in mangled Portuguese to Aurelia as you were, if less teary-eyed.

When The Holiday came around though, he was half asleep as he laid sprawled across your lap and the couch. Your nails gently massaging his scalp nearly did him in, along with Sam’s heavy-ass pour of eggnog. It was tradition, at this point.

By the end of the movie marathon, you were the one snoozing from your corner of the couch, your hand still in Dean’s hair.

He carried you to bed that night, your eyelids heavy as you teetered back and forth between slumber and the waking world. At least you were already in your pajamas. All he had to do was tuck you under the sheets on your side of the bed, then slip in behind you afterwards.

His arm draped around your waist, and you curled towards him, half on instinct as you let out a deep breath. Dean smiled as you settled against his chest. Your soft snores soon greeted his ears. Only then did he let himself rest…

Just not for long.

You woke earlier than you planned to in the morning, mainly because your man pillow was no longer beside you. You reached out a hand and found Dean’s side of the bed empty and cold, the covers pulled back. With a frown, you opened bleary eyes and checked your phone. It was around the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m.

What the hell was Dean doing up at the crack of dawn?

Unless… You paused as your memory served you a grim reminder. Unless he’d had a rough night, kept up by memories and dreams he didn’t always want to talk to you about. It wouldn’t be the first time he came back to bed after a few hours with the heady smell of bourbon on him.

You got up with a sigh, rolling your neck as you did so. You just wanted to check on him. Maybe you could even persuade him to come back to bed.

You threw on a sweater over your pajamas and some fluffy slippers Sam bought you for your birthday—all to shield you from the bunker’s chilly air and ice-cold floors. You’d have to remind Dean to check on the heater.

You padded out of the bedroom and down the long hall…and became distracted by the Christmas tree in the common room. It really was beautiful all lit up. The lights softly flashed in green, red, purple, and gold. Traditional red and gold ornaments hung beside the Scooby Doo themed ones, with Fred and Daphne front and center, along with the rest of the gang scattered throughout.

And then you found Dean.

“Damn it…friggin’ piece of shit ribbon…”

Dean’s muttering drew your attention to his hunched figure kneeling at the base of the tree. Your head tilted in wonder as your face broke out into a smile. What the hell is he doing? You tried to be light on your feet as you approached him from behind. Peering over his shoulder, you could almost see what he was trying do with some shiny red wrapping paper and a big golden bow.

Your heart swelled. Had he really gotten you and Sam something for Christmas too? He didn’t need to get you anything…

Dean’s hunter reflexes must’ve been tingling though, because suddenly he sat up straighter and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw you standing there in your pajamas, arms crossed over your robe.

He actually jolted, muttering a curse as he tried to cover up what he was doing.

“What’cha doin’, babe?” you asked. Your eyes gleamed with amusement.

Dean tried to get up, but his foot slipped on a stray ribbon. He careened back onto his ass and knocked into the tree. Not only did its branches poke into his face and arm, making him wince, but he managed to displace a couple of ornaments, sending them tumbling to the floor by his hand. He grunted and raised up onto his forearms. For the pièce de résistance, that lovely golden bow landed right in his lap.

With raised brows, you took in the sight of your man—all bedraggled and looking sheepish (and adorable) as hell. Your hand went up to cover your mouth, but you were unable to quiet the giggle that bubbled up and escaped your lips.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey.”

You glanced down at the bow, almost perfectly placed in his lap.

“Hey,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile.

You lowered down to kneel in front of him, and you took his face in your gentle hands before you leaned in for a sweet, sensuous kiss. Dean breathed into it. Your eyes shut along with his as you savored the moment, and him.

When you parted, your smile remained as you fingered the shiny edge of the bow. Dean began to smirk as well, despite how warm his face had gotten. His big hands found their way to your hips, welcoming you when you took a comfortable seat over his thighs.

You whispered against his lips, “I already know which present I’m gonna unwrap first.”

AN: Lol there we go, a cheeky ending for you! Let me know if you liked this! ❤️💚

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