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satansdarlin · 9 days ago

Text

Blue stained glass

While I work on the fourth chapter of a full deck of cards I also decided to write for another one of my boys! Welcoming Kurt Wagner to the stage! Apologies for any bad German, I'm still learning it and often forget that it is a gendered language so please forgive me.

MDNI

Rating: E

Word count: 8.3k

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x shy!artist!fem!reader

Warnings: reader being kinda stalkerish but not with bad intentions, implied that some of the students have harmless crushes on Kurt, Kurt being a flirt, smut! Because I missed writing it, Oral (fem receiving), PiV, mentions of Kurt's faith, you wife that man up!, pregnancy. Not beta read!

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

Golden light trickled in through the curtains as the sun set behind the school. The smell of dragon's blood incense wafted around the room in delicate wisps of smoke. The only sounds were the slight breeze outside and the dragging of bristles across canvas. You sat on the wooden stool, a slight hunch in your back you'd need to correct later with stretches. Your gaze followed along as you drew blue across the canvas. Blue had become a vital part of all your recent works, and you knew exactly why. Whenever you thought of art, flashes of blue fur, a spaded tail, the smell of sulfur, a silver cross, and a mischievous laugh filled your mind. You wouldn't call it obsession or infatuation. He was your muse. Not that he knew. How could you tell your teammate that he gave you such powerful inspiration? So the portfolio filled to the brim with artworks of just him remained hidden away under your bed.

Kurt Wagner. Everyone loved him. He was a friend worth keeping, made everything fun, always had the best ideas to keep the students entertained, and loved to chatter. Even Logan enjoyed his company from time to time. Kurt just had a way with people, with mutants. A few months back, you had a solo mission with him. It was awkward at first—the shy, quiet artist of the school and the impish chatterbox didn't know how to approach one another. In the end, the mission had concluded in giggles and soft-spoken words. Kurt was wonderful. That's why you couldn't understand why he kept insisting on spending time with you of all people. You were reserved, shy, introverted—the exact opposite of Kurt.

You had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on your door before starting, hoping it would deter visitors. It did. Well, anyone who saw the sign didn't bother you; the same could not be said for the blue fuzzy imp. He didn't see it, to be fair. He had just gotten home from taking some students to the mall for shopping and wanted to show you the paints he had found, so he teleported. The smell of sulfur and the familiar BAMF sound filled your room, making your eyes widen comedically as you stared at the canvas. A painting of Kurt praying in a church with blue stained glass—one he was most certainly not supposed to see.

"Mein Freund, you would not believe the gift I have found for you— ah," his pleasant accent-tinted voice stalled as he gazed at your shape and then the painting before you. His eyes widened and filled with glee. "Oh mein Gott! Is that me? It's... it's—" he struggled to find the English word for a moment before settling on, "herrlich."

You stammered shyly as he walked up behind you, gazing at the painting with a smile that made your insides flutter like a thousand baby butterflies had hatched. "I... erm... yes, it's you, but it's not finished," you spoke hesitantly.

"Not finished?" Kurt moved closer, his tail swaying gently behind him in that way it did when he was truly excited about something. "But it's already so beautiful! The way you captured the light through the windows..." He leaned in, careful not to disturb your workspace, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I had no idea you were watching me pray."

Your cheeks burned hot. "I... I wasn't. Not really. I just... sometimes I sketch you when you're around the mansion, and I remembered how peaceful you looked that one time I passed by the chapel..." You trailed off, realizing you might be revealing too much.

Kurt's expression softened, and a knowing look crossed his features. "Then perhaps..." he said, reaching down to carefully take the brush from your trembling fingers, "you wouldn't mind showing me the other drawings?" His golden eyes flickered toward your bed, where your portfolio lay hidden.

Your heart nearly stopped. "You knew?"

A gentle laugh escaped him, musical and warm. "Mein Schatz, I may be a fool sometimes, but I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching." He paused, his tail curling slightly in what you had learned was nervousness. "The same way I look at you when you're lost in your art."

The confession hung in the air between you, as tangible as the wisps of incense smoke still dancing through the golden evening light. You sat frozen, brush dripping blue paint onto the dropcloth below, as Kurt Wagner—your muse, your teammate, your secret inspiration—waited for your response with bated breath.

"You... look at me?" You whispered in shock and a tinge of disbelief. He looked at you like you looked at him? That sounded impossible, yet the way his tail curled in nervousness and his foot tapped against the ground told a different story.

Kurt's hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture you'd seen countless times when he was trying to find the right words. "Ja, I do. More than I probably should." His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. "When you're in the garden sketching, or during the art class with the students when you create those beautiful displays... The way your face lights up when you finally perfect a piece you've been working on..." He trailed off, a deeper blue tinting his cheeks.

Your heart thundered in your chest as he took a small step closer, his tail now swaying in a gentle, hypnotic pattern. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but..." He gestured to himself with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, I wasn't sure someone who creates such beauty would want..."

"Kurt," you interrupted, finding courage you didn't know you had. Standing from your stool, you reached for his hand, feeling the unique texture of his fur against your palm. "You are beauty. Why do you think I can't stop painting you?"

His golden eyes widened, and that brilliant smile you'd captured in countless sketches spread across his face. "Then perhaps," he said, bringing your joined hands up between you, "we've both been a bit foolish, ja?"

A small laugh escaped you, breaking the tension. "More than a bit." Your eyes drifted to the painting on the easel, then back to him. "Would you... would you like to see the others? The real ones, not just the ones I do for art class?"

Kurt's tail perked up, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I would love nothing more, mein Schatz. But first..." He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small paper bag. "I really did bring you something from the art store."

Inside was a set of iridescent blue paints that shifted colors in the dying sunlight, almost the exact shade of Kurt's fur when he moved. Your breath caught at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and when you looked up at him, his expression was so tender it made your heart ache.

"I saw them and thought of you," he admitted quietly. "Though I suppose I'm always thinking of you these days."

The confession hung in the air like a prayer, and you found yourself moving closer, drawn into his orbit like you'd always been, only now there was no need to hide it. The golden light that had started this evening's painting session now painted Kurt in warm hues, making him look almost ethereal—your own personal angel, right here in your art-cluttered room.

"Kurt," you whispered, not quite sure what you wanted to say, but knowing you needed to say something. The way he looked at you now, like you were one of his precious religious paintings come to life, made you understand why he'd always insisted on spending time with you. He'd been drawn to you just as you'd been to him, both of you dancing around each other in an elaborate routine of stolen glances and hidden feelings.

His tail curled gently around your wrist, as if he couldn't bear to not touch you in some way, and you realized that maybe this was what inspiration truly felt like—not just the desire to capture beauty, but to be part of it. With trembling hands, you knelt beside your bed, aware of Kurt's presence behind you as you reached underneath to pull out the large black portfolio case. Your heart hammered against your ribs—no one had ever seen these pieces before. They were raw, honest, intimate in a way your public artwork never was.

"I, um," you started, clutching the portfolio to your chest as you stood, "some of these are just quick sketches, and others aren't very good—"

"Liebling," Kurt interrupted gently, his tail swaying with barely contained excitement, "everything you create is wunderbar. May I?" He gestured to your bed, and you nodded, watching as he settled cross-legged on the corner, patting the space beside him.

You sat down carefully, the portfolio balanced on your lap. Kurt's warmth beside you was both comforting and nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the case and pulled out the first few pieces.

"Oh!" Kurt's delighted gasp made you jump slightly. His tail curled in pleasure as he leaned forward to study a charcoal drawing of himself perched on the mansion's balcony railing, looking out over the grounds. "I remember this day. It was right after that terrible thunderstorm, ja? When the sun finally came out?"

You nodded, surprised he'd remembered such a small moment. "The light was hitting your fur just right, and I couldn't help but..." you trailed off, embarrassed at admitting how much you'd observed him.

But Kurt was already reaching for the next piece, his golden eyes bright with wonder. "And this one!" It was a series of quick gesture sketches of him during a training session, his body in various poses of acrobatic grace. "You've captured the movement so perfectly. I had no idea you were watching so closely."

Your cheeks burned. "I hope that doesn't sound creepy."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "Nein, not at all. Though it does explain why you always volunteered to help supervise training." His tail brushed against your back playfully, making you squeak in surprise.

As you went through more pieces, your initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a warm glow at Kurt's genuine enthusiasm for each drawing. He had a comment for every piece—remembering the moments you'd captured, praising your technique, asking questions about your process. His tail never stopped moving, expressing his excitement in a way his controlled expressions couldn't quite hide.

"This one," he breathed, carefully lifting a watercolor painting, "this is..." It was one of your favorites—Kurt in the library late at night, reading by lamplight, his tail curled around a cup of tea. You'd painted it from memory after watching him there one evening, trying to capture the peaceful contentment he radiated in those quiet moments.

"The way you see me," he said softly, tracing the air above the painting as if afraid to touch it, "it's so..."

"Real," you finished quietly. "That's just... how you look to me."

Kurt turned to face you then, and the expression on his face made your breath catch. "All this time," he murmured, "I thought I was alone in feeling this way. In seeing such beauty in someone else."

You ducked your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but his tail gently curved under your chin, lifting it back up. "No hiding," he said softly. "Not anymore, ja?"

The portfolio slid forgotten to the floor as Kurt's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed this. In the fading golden light of your room, surrounded by scattered artwork that told the story of your hidden feelings, Kurt Wagner looked at you like you were the masterpiece—not the artist. Time seemed to slow as Kurt's hand remained gentle against your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your heart was doing acrobatics that could rival his best performances, and you wondered if he could feel how warm your face had become.

"Mein Schatz," he whispered, leaning closer, "may I...?"

You could only manage a tiny nod, and then his lips were on yours, soft and sweet. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and you could feel his smile against your mouth. His tail curled around your waist, drawing you closer as your hands tentatively came up to rest against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt and the steady beating of his heart beneath.

When you finally parted, you immediately buried your burning face in his shoulder, earning a warm chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Hiding again so soon?" he teased, his accent thicker with emotion.

"Mmph," was all you could manage, which only made him laugh more.

"And here I thought artists were supposed to appreciate beautiful moments," he continued playfully, his tail squeezing your waist. "Perhaps I should pose for another painting? 'The First Kiss' would make a lovely addition to your collection, ja?"

You groaned and swatted his chest weakly. "Kurt!"

"Or maybe a series?" He was clearly enjoying himself now, his voice full of mischief. "We could call it 'The Evolution of Romance' or 'Love in Blue'—"

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face still flaming. "You're terrible."

His grin was radiant. "Terrible, but yours?" The hope in his voice made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," you whispered, managing a shy smile. "Mine."

"Wunderbar!" He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Though I must ask—do you have any paintings of our future together hidden away as well? Should I be prepared for more surprises?"

"Kurt Wagner!" You tried to sound scandalized, but you couldn't help laughing, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

"What? It's a reasonable question! After all, you've been secretly documenting me for months. For all I know, you've already planned our wedding colors—blue and more blue, I assume?"

You grabbed a nearby pillow and tried to smack him with it, but he teleported across the room with a BAMF, leaving a cloud of sulfur and the echo of his laughter. He reappeared perched on your easel, careful not to disturb your painting, his tail swishing playfully.

"You know," he said, his golden eyes twinkling, "I think I prefer being your muse when I know about it. The poses can be much more interesting this way."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, falling back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. But you couldn't hide your smile, especially when you felt the familiar displacement of air and suddenly had a warm, fuzzy mutant curled around you, pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

"Don't worry, Liebling," he murmured against your skin, his tail finding your hand and twining with your fingers. "I promise to be the best muse you could ask for. Though..." He paused dramatically, "I do have one condition."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "What's that?"

His smile softened into something so tender it made your chest ache. "That next time you paint me praying in the chapel, you'll be there with me. Some masterpieces are better created together, don't you think?"

This time, when you pulled him down for another kiss, you didn't hide your face afterward. After all, how could you when he was looking at you like that—like you were both the artist and the masterpiece, the muse and the creator, the beginning and end of something beautiful?

Though you did blush furiously when he later insisted on signing all your portraits of him with "Kurt Wagner, Professional Muse and Master of Stealing Artists' Hearts.”

The chatter of students filled the air and the sweet smell of honeysuckle surrounded you and your students. Truth be told, you hadn't even offered to do this job; teaching the art class wasn't something that had ever been on your mind, but Charles had asked you to do so, saying it would be good for the students to have an outlet for their emotions. Though teaching a bunch of mutant teenagers wasn't particularly easy, especially when half of them wanted to be in the danger room training to be X-Men—you probably got more questions about that than actual art.

"Your piece should be about expression. There is no right or wrong, only your feelings about your art," you spoke gently as you walked by the students settled in the grass of the gardens behind the school. A hand rose up and you looked over and nodded at the boy, Damian you believed his name was.

"Excuse me, but how exactly is painting helping us prepare for anything?" You sighed at the boy's question as he got some chastising nudges from some of your more kind students. You got that question about every class.

Before you could answer, a familiar BAMF sound and the scent of sulfur announced Kurt's arrival. He appeared perched on the garden wall, his tail swaying as he grinned at the class. Several students brightened immediately—Kurt had always been a favorite among them.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, mein junger Freund," Kurt said, gracefully flipping down to land beside you. His shoulder brushed yours in a subtle show of support that made your heart flutter, even after months of being together. "Art teaches us more than you might think. Strategy, patience, observation..." He winked at you before continuing, "How do you think I learned to move so efficiently in battle? By understanding space, movement, and perception—all things your talented teacher here helped me improve."

A few students giggled, well aware of your relationship with the blue mutant. It had become something of a school legend how you'd been caught with a portfolio full of Kurt drawings. Some of the older students even insisted they'd known all along, claiming they'd seen the way you both looked at each other during training sessions.

"Besides," Kurt continued, picking up one of the spare brushes from your supply kit and twirling it like one of his swords, "did you know that Leonardo da Vinci used his artistic skills to design defense systems? Or that camouflage patterns were created by artists? Even the maps we use for missions were drawn by artists."

Damian sat up straighter, suddenly looking more interested. "Really?"

You smiled, grateful for Kurt's intervention. "Really. And speaking of missions..." You shared a knowing look with Kurt before addressing the class. "Who wants to hear about the time my sketching skills helped us locate a hidden Sentinel facility?"

"Oh, tell them about the warehouse in Berlin!" Kurt added enthusiastically, his tail curling around your waist as he settled beside you. "When you noticed the architectural inconsistencies in my reconnaissance sketches?"

The students were all paying attention now, art supplies temporarily forgotten as they leaned in to hear the story. Even Damian had put down his phone, his previous skepticism replaced with curiosity.

"Well," you began, feeling Kurt's tail squeeze encouragingly, "it started when we noticed some unusual energy signatures in an old industrial district..."

As you recounted the mission, Kurt occasionally chimed in with his own colorful commentary, making the students laugh with his dramatic reenactments. You couldn't help but smile, watching him demonstrate his acrobatic moves while describing how your artistic knowledge had helped spot the hidden entrance.

"And that," Kurt concluded, landing gracefully beside you again, "is why we should never underestimate the power of art. Or artists." He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, making several students coo and others playfully groan at the display of affection.

"Mr. Wagner," one of the girls called out, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to model for our class like you do for the teacher?"

Your face immediately heated up as Kurt laughed delightedly. "Sadly, I'm needed in the danger room. Though..." He grinned at you, that familiar impish look in his golden eyes, "I do have a private session scheduled later."

"Kurt!" you hissed, mortified as the students erupted in giggles.

He merely winked, pressed another quick kiss to your cheek, and teleported away with a theatrical bow, leaving you to face your amused students with burning cheeks.

"Now then," you said, trying to regain some semblance of professional dignity despite your flushed face, "back to your projects. And no, Jenny, you cannot paint Mr. Wagner for your assignment—pick a different subject."

The disappointment on several faces told you that more than one student had been planning exactly that. You couldn't really blame them though. After all, you had an entire portfolio that proved just how inspiring a subject Kurt Wagner could be. After the lingering giggles from Kurt's dramatic exit finally subsided, you circled back through your students, the grass crunching softly beneath your feet. The afternoon sun warmed your shoulders as you paused to observe their work, offering gentle guidance where needed.

"Sarah," you said, stopping beside a girl whose hands were literally glowing as she painted, her mutation allowing her to create luminescent colors, "that's beautiful. The way you're using your powers to add depth to the sunset—very creative." Her beaming smile made your heart warm; it was moments like these that reminded you why Charles had been right about teaching.

Moving on, you found Marcus struggling with his brushstrokes, his extra set of arms getting in the way of each other. "Try coordinating them like we practiced," you suggested softly. "Remember, each hand can work on a different section. Think of it like... like when Kurt coordinates his tail with his movements during training."

The mention of Kurt made a few nearby students glance up with knowing smirks, but you ignored them, focusing on how Marcus's face lit up with understanding. Within minutes, all four of his hands were working in harmony, creating an intricate pattern that would have taken others four times as long to complete.

"Teacher?" A quiet voice drew your attention to Amy, a shy freshman whose scales tended to change color with her emotions—currently a nervous purple. "I... I don't know if this is good enough." She gestured to her canvas where she'd painted a self-portrait, her scales rendered in beautiful iridescent shades.

You knelt beside her, careful not to disturb her workspace. "What makes you think it's not good enough?"

"It's just..." she glanced around at her classmates' work, her scales shifting to a deeper purple. "Everyone else is painting normal things. Beautiful things. I painted... me."

"Amy," you said gently, thinking of all the times you'd doubted your own artwork, of all the paintings of Kurt you'd hidden away because you thought they were too revealing, too personal. "Do you remember what Kurt said in his last ethics class about beauty?"

Her scales flickered with hints of pink—she had a bit of a crush on Kurt, like half the school. "That it comes in all forms?"

"Exactly. And look—" you pointed to how the light caught her painting's scales, creating rainbow patterns across the canvas. "You've captured something uniquely beautiful. Something only you could create, because only you know exactly how those scales feel, how they shift and change. That's not just good art, that's powerful art."

The purple of her scales gradually shifted to a warm golden hue as she smiled, looking at her painting with new eyes. Around you, other students had paused to listen, and you saw several of them return to their work with renewed purpose.

"Damian," you called out, noticing he'd actually started painting instead of just complaining, "excellent use of perspective on that building. Been practicing your architectural sketches?"

He tried to look nonchalant, but you caught his pleased grin. "Yeah, well... after what you said about the Berlin mission... I figured it might be useful. You know, for future X-Men stuff."

"Hey, teacher?" Jenny piped up, paint smudged adorably across her cheek. "Since we can't paint Mr. Wagner, could you tell us more about how art helped on missions while we work? Please?"

A chorus of agreements rose from the class, and you couldn't help but smile. "Alright, but keep painting. There was this one time in Moscow when my knowledge of color theory helped us identify a shapeshifter..."

As you shared the story, moving between easels and offering guidance, you noticed how the students' work seemed to come alive. Even the most reluctant artists were engaged now, their creativity flowing as they listened to tales of how art and heroism could intertwine.

The smell of honeysuckle grew stronger as the afternoon wore on, mixing with paint and teenage enthusiasm. A flash of blue in your peripheral vision caught your attention—Kurt, watching proudly from a nearby window between his training sessions. He blew you a kiss before disappearing again, leaving you with paint-stained fingers and a garden full of budding artists who were finally beginning to understand that there was more than one way to be extraordinary.

"Teacher?" Amy called out, her scales now a confident shade of blue that reminded you of someone special. "I think I'd like to do another self-portrait. Maybe... maybe one of me in an X-Men uniform this time?"

You smiled, thinking of your own portfolio of Kurt, of how art had led you to love, and how that love had led you here, helping these young mutants find their own way to express their unique beauty. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Amy. Just remember—"

"We know, we know," the class chorused together, matching your grin, "there is no right or wrong, only our feelings about our art!”

Evening had settled over the mansion, the last rays of sunlight painting your studio in familiar golden hues. The day's classes were done, art supplies cleaned and stored away, and you'd finally managed to stop blushing from Kurt's teasing comments during your lesson. You were just setting up your easel when the familiar BAMF announced his arrival.

"Ah, mein Schatz," Kurt's voice was warm as he appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tail curling affectionately around your ankle. "Ready for our 'private session'?" You could hear the playful smirk in his voice.

"You," you turned in his arms to poke his chest accusingly, "are terrible. Do you know how many knowing looks I got from the students after you left?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I couldn't help myself. You're adorable when you blush. Speaking of which..." His tail reached over to your desk, picking up your sketchbook and flipping it open to reveal today's quick sketches of him during his brief visit to your class. "Someone was inspired during their teaching duties, ja?"

"Kurt!" You tried to snatch the sketchbook, but he teleported across the room, perching on the window seat as he continued flipping through pages.

"Oh, this one is new!" He held up a sketch of himself demonstrating acrobatic moves to your students. "You captured my best side."

"All your sides are your best side," you mumbled before you could stop yourself, then immediately covered your face with your hands as he teleported back to you, gathering you close.

"Is that so?" he murmured against your ear. "Then perhaps we should make sure you have proper reference material for all of them?" His tail gently pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his tender gaze. "Now then, how would you like me to pose, Liebling?"

You gestured weakly to the arrangement you'd set up—a comfortable chair positioned near the window, where the last of the sunset would cast those perfect shadows you loved to capture. "Just... sitting would be nice. Natural. Like when you're reading in the library."

Kurt's expression softened as he settled into the chair, understanding your desire to capture one of your favorite quiet moments. He pulled out a small book of poetry—Rilke, you noticed—and arranged himself comfortably, his tail draped over the armrest.

"Like this?" he asked, and you nodded, already reaching for your charcoal. This was familiar territory now, though no less special than those first secret sketches. If anything, it was more intimate—knowing he was here specifically for you, watching you create, sharing these peaceful moments together.

As you began to sketch, Kurt started reading aloud softly in German, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. You'd grown to love these evenings, the gentle cadence of his voice mixing with the scratch of charcoal on paper, the way his tail would occasionally twitch in response to a particular phrase or stanza.

"You know," he said during a pause between poems, his golden eyes meeting yours over the top of his book, "I used to wonder why you chose me as your subject so often. Now I think I understand."

You paused in your sketching, curious. "Oh?"

"Ja. It's the same reason I can't stop watching you when you create." He marked his place in the book and leaned forward slightly. "There's something magical about seeing someone doing what they love, being exactly who they are meant to be. You see me that way when I move, when I pray, when I simply exist. And I see you that way when you're lost in your art."

The charcoal trembled slightly in your fingers as he continued, "It's like seeing someone's soul, isn't it? Their truest self?"

You nodded, unable to find words for how perfectly he'd captured it. Kurt rose from the chair in one fluid movement, crossing to where you stood. His hand covered yours on the charcoal, bringing it to rest against the easel.

"Perhaps," he whispered, turning you to face him, his tail wrapping around your waist, "we could find other ways to capture this moment?"

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that tasted of poetry and promises. The charcoal slipped forgotten from your fingers as you wound your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming rightness of being held by him.

When you finally parted, Kurt rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Though I do hope you'll finish the sketch later. I have a reputation as Professional Muse to maintain, after all."

You laughed, the sound mixing with his own quiet chuckle in the golden evening light of your studio, where art and love had become beautifully, perfectly intertwined.

"So how do you wish to capture this moment, hm?" You hummed up at him with a new sense of courage.

Kurt's yellow eyes sparkle with mischief and desire as he gazes down at you, his tail gently squeezing your waist. The sunset light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting the delicate curve of your neck and the soft fullness of your lips. He leans in, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.

"There are so many ways, mein Schatz..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "We could start with a kiss..."

And he does, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, moving with a passion and tenderness that sets your heart racing. One hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down your back, pressing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your eyes dark with desire. Kurt's tail tightens around you, keeping you anchored against him as he trails his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

"Or perhaps," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "you'd like to capture the way my hands feel on your skin?"

Without waiting for an answer, he begins to unbutton your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he reveals more and more of your body to his hungry gaze. Each touch sends sparks of electricity through you, igniting a fire that only seems to grow with each passing second.

As your shirt falls to the floor, Kurt takes a step back, his eyes roving hungrily over your newly exposed skin. His gaze is almost reverent, as if he's drinking in every inch of you like a man dying of thirst.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and desire. "You're absolutely perfect, Meine Liebe."

His hands come up to cup your breasts, thick fingers brushing over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he begins to circle and tease, building the pleasure slowly but surely. Kurt's hands continue their sensual exploration of your body, tracing every curve and dip with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. He leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he murmurs against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "To show you how much you mean to me."

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it and sliding the straps down your shoulders. The garment falls away, baring your breasts to his eager gaze. Kurt pauses for a moment, simply drinking in the sight of you, before cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms.

"Perfektion," he breathes, thumbing your nipples until they pebble beneath his touch. He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You gasp at the sensation, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Kurt continues his ministrations, alternating between your breasts, licking and sucking and nipping until you're writhing against him, desperate for more.

His hands drift lower, skimming over your stomach and hips before dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He strokes you through the damp fabric of your underwear, his touch light and teasing.

"So wet already," he marvels, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so responsive, mein Schatz. So perfect."

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. You kick them off impatiently, standing before him in nothing but your socks and shoes.

Kurt takes a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form with undisguised hunger. He licks his lips, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation.

"Lie down on the couch," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I want to taste you." You obey without hesitation, settling into the plush cushions immediately.

Kurt follows you to the couch, his eyes never leaving your body as he crawls over you, settling between your spread thighs. He runs his hands up your legs, his touch light and teasing, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, spreading your folds with his fingers and exposing your glistening flesh to his hungry gaze. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leans down, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. The sensation is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You gasp, your hips lifting off the couch as you seek more of his touch.

Kurt chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He looks up at you through his lashes, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

"Patience, mein Schatz," he teases, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet heat. "We have all the time in the world."

And then he's diving back in, his tongue delving deep into your core, lapping at your essence like a man starved. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he feasts on your flesh, his groans of pleasure muffled against your skin. The room fills with the obscene sounds of his licking and sucking, punctuated by your own breathy moans and gasps.

Kurt brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to tongue-fuck your dripping cunt. The dual stimulation is too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

"That's it, Kleine," he encourages, his voice rough with arousal. "Let go. Come for me."

His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cry out, your hands fisting in Kurt's hair as waves of pleasure crash over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

Kurt works you through it, his tongue and fingers never faltering as he prolongs your climax, drawing out every last shudder and gasp until you're boneless and spent, collapsing back against the couch in a sweaty, satisfied heap.

He presses one last kiss to your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, settling his weight on top of you. His erection presses insistently against your thigh as he wiggles off his pants, hot and hard and ready for you.*

"I need you, meine Engel," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "I need to be inside you."

He reaches down between your bodies, grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. You can feel the heat of him, the pulsing need that throbs against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden stretch, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, you're tight," Kurt groans, his hips rocking against yours as he begins to move. "So perfect. So gut."

He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, his cock hitting depths you didn't even know you had. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you whole. Your heart flutters hearing him slur out German and English in a pleasure drunken haze. Kurt's tail wraps around your legs, holding them open wide as he pistons into you, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"So good," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he laves his tongue over your pulse point. "So perfekt. So mine."

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a possessive heat in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your body with each thrust.

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into the fur of his back. "All yours, kurt"

Kurt growls, low and deep, his tail tightening around your legs as he pounds into you with abandon. The couch creaks beneath your combined weight, threatening to give way under the force of his thrusts.

"Ich liebe dich," he slurs, his words muffled against your skin. "Love you so much. Need you. Need to be inside you forever."

His confession sends you careening over the edge, your body seizing up as another orgasm rips through you. You clench around him, your walls fluttering and spasming as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

"Fuck, Prinzessin," Kurt groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Feel so good. So perfect. Gonna come. Gonna fill you up."

With a final, bruising thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. You can feel the heat of his seed, the way it paints your insides, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he pants against your neck. His tail unwinds from your legs, draping lazily over your thigh as he nuzzles into your hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My perfect girl. Meine schöne Künstlerin."

You smile, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment.

Nearly a year later

The chapel was quiet save for the soft whisper of your pencil across paper. Early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting familiar blue patterns across the wooden pews. Kurt knelt at the altar in prayer, his tail curved peacefully behind him, rosary beads wrapped gently around his three-fingered hands.

You'd grown comfortable here in these morning moments, sharing this sacred space with him. What had once felt like an intrusion now felt like belonging. Your sketchbook was filled with these quiet scenes—Kurt in prayer, Kurt reading his Bible, Kurt simply existing in this place that meant so much to him. But this morning was different. This morning, your hand trembled slightly as you drew, your mind wandering to the small box hidden in your art supplies.

It had taken weeks to create, working late into the night in your studio after Kurt had fallen asleep. A hand-carved wooden ring box, painted with delicate scenes from your relationship—the first time you'd been caught painting him, your first kiss, teaching art class together, quiet moments in the chapel. The ring inside was simple silver, engraved with tiny crosses and artist's brushes intertwined.

"You're thinking very loudly this morning, Liebling," Kurt's voice startled you from your thoughts. He hadn't moved from his position, but his tail swayed knowingly.

"Sorry," you mumbled, adding another shadow to your sketch. "Didn't mean to disturb your prayers."

"You never disturb me," he said softly, finally turning to face you with that gentle smile that still made your heart skip. "Though I am curious what has you so distracted. Usually you're much more focused when drawing in here."

You set down your sketchbook with trembling fingers. "Actually, I... I have something for you."

Kurt's eyebrows rose curiously as you reached into your art bag, pulling out the painted box. His golden eyes widened as you stood and walked to him, kneeling beside him at the altar.

"Kurt Wagner," you began, your voice shaky but determined, "you've been my muse, my inspiration, my best friend, and the love of my life. You've shown me that beauty exists in so many forms, that faith can be found in art just as much as prayer, and that love..." you had to pause, swallowing hard as his tail curled around your wrist encouragingly, "love can be both the masterpiece and the creation itself."

You opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. "Would you let me spend the rest of my life creating with you?"

Kurt's breath caught as he took in the painted scenes on the box, his fingers trailing reverently over the tiny details you'd spent so long perfecting. When he looked up, his eyes were shining with tears.

"Mein Gott," he whispered, "you've managed to surprise the teleporter." His tail tightened around your wrist as he pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours. "Did you really think there could be any answer but yes? You are the greatest masterpiece God has ever placed in my life."

Your laugh was watery as you slipped the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit just as you'd hoped. Kurt cradled your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle.

"Though I must say," he murmured, his accent thick with emotion, "you've rather stolen my thunder, Liebling." With his tail, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, making you gasp. "I was planning to ask you after morning mass."

Inside was a delicate gold ring with a blue sapphire that matched his fur perfectly. "Great minds think alike, ja?"

You couldn't speak through your tears as he slipped the ring onto your finger, but you didn't need to. The way you pulled him into a kiss said everything necessary, the morning light painting you both in shades of blue and gold through the stained glass windows.

"I can't wait to see how you'll paint this moment," Kurt whispered against your lips, making you laugh.

"Already planning it," you admitted. "Though I might need my muse to pose for several reference sketches."

His tail wrapped around your waist as he grinned. "I believe that can be arranged. After all..." he pressed another soft kiss to your lips, "we have the rest of our lives to perfect it."

Through the chapel windows, the morning light continued to paint you both in blues and golds, artist and muse, two hearts creating something beautiful together. And if anyone noticed that your afternoon art class was especially romantic that day, well... they were kind enough not to mention it. Though you did have to tell Jenny, once again, that no, she still couldn't paint Mr. Wagner for her assignment—even if he was now your fiancé.

You woke up to soft snores and looked over, unable to help but smile softly. Your husband's sleeping face was too cute to not smile at. After five years of being married, you'd never grow tired of waking up to this. Recently he had taken to growing out a goatee, saying it made him look more mature (you couldn't help but agree—after all, it made your mind wander a lot too). You carefully pulled out of his embrace without waking him; his tail was always a struggle to remove from its place around your leg without waking him, but you managed it. After a small silent dance of triumph, you moved out of your shared bedroom to the room across from it.

The room was halfway painted, though you had been working on it for the past six months. It had paintings of stories and family littered across it—scenes from Kurt's favorite fairy tales, the X-Men as loving aunts and uncles, even a small portrait of Professor Xavier smiling benevolently from above the planned crib space. You picked up a brush and were about to continue when you accidentally kicked a paint bucket. That's all it took, and with a sudden puff of smoke your husband had teleported in, his stance ready for action but relaxing when he saw it was just you up early.

"Mein Gott, woman, I thought you were a thief!" He exclaimed, holding his three-fingered hand over his chest before walking over with a soft tired smile and pecking your lips. "You're up early, I don't even hear the morning birds yet."

"Needed to stretch my legs," you hummed back, and he hummed softly in suspicion. His hand rested on your stomach.

"Are you sure it is not because of the Kleine?" He spoke in a teasing voice as he gently rubbed your stomach.

You leaned back against his chest, letting his warmth seep into you as you both gazed at the wall you'd been painting. His tail automatically wrapped around your waist, just above where your small baby bump was beginning to show. "Maybe," you admitted. "I just... I want it to be perfect before they arrive."

Kurt nuzzled against your neck, his goatee tickling your skin. "Liebling, with you as their mother, how could it be anything but perfect?" His hand joined yours on the brush. "Though perhaps we could add a few more acrobatic scenes? A future X-Man should know their father's best moves, ja?"

You laughed softly, mindful of the early hour. "Kurt, we don't even know if they'll be able to teleport yet."

"Ah, but they're already showing artistic talent!" He moved to stand beside you, gesturing dramatically at your stomach. "Look how perfectly they've rounded out your usually straight lines!"

"Did you just call me fat, Mr. Wagner?" you asked with mock offense.

His eyes widened comically. "Nein! Never! I merely meant to say you're more... sculptural these days?" His tail flicked nervously as he tried to backtrack, making you giggle.

"Saved it," you murmured, turning back to the wall. You'd been working on a particular scene—a small blue figure learning to teleport while protective arms waited to catch them. "Do you really think they'll like it? All of this?"

Kurt's arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he surveyed your work. "Mein Schatz, they will love it. Just as they will love you." His hand splayed protectively over your stomach. "Though perhaps we should add a small easel next to the training equipment? Best to be prepared for all possibilities."

You turned in his arms, brush still in hand, accidentally leaving a small blue streak across his chest. "Oops."

His grin turned mischievous. "Oh? Is that how we're playing this morning?" He reached for another brush. "You know, the wall isn't the only canvas in need of some color..."

"Kurt Wagner, don't you dare—" But it was too late. With a playful BAMF, he was behind you, painting a gentle heart on the back of your nightshirt.

What followed was a careful (mindful of your condition) but enthusiastic paint war, filling the nursery with quiet laughter and colorful streaks. By the time the sun began to rise, you were both covered in paint, sitting on the drop cloth and admiring your handiwork—both on the walls and each other.

"You know," Kurt mused, his tail drawing abstract patterns in a small paint puddle, "this might be your best work yet."

You looked around at the cheerful chaos you'd created together—the story-filled walls, the paint-splattered drop cloths, the mixing of your artistic vision with his playful additions. Your hand found his, fingers intertwining as they rested on your growing bump.

"No," you said softly, "I think our best work is still in progress."

His answering smile was brighter than the rising sun, and as he pulled you in for a paint-smudged kiss, you couldn't help but think that sometimes the most beautiful art came from life itself—messy, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.

Though you did make him clean up the paint footprints he'd teleported all over the mansion before the students woke up. Your gaze went over to the window which Kurt had helped you place the stain on. The blue hues glittered over the room and it filled you with a sense of love and happiness. Blue would always be apart of your life now, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

#fluff #smut fanfiction #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler #xmen x reader #kurt wagner #kurt wagner smut #nightcrawler smut #xmen nightcrawler

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 2 years ago

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Studious II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

After your last coupling, Prince Aemond has been acting quite strangely toward you. It doesn't make sorting out your own feeling for him any easier...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut (kinda?) , male masturbation, female masturbation (attempted), more Aegon commentary, more Aemond awkwardness

Author's Note: WOW, I was not expecting anyone to like my awkward Aemond brain dump, but boy howdy did y'all... I hope this lives up to the hype!

Read Part I Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist below the cut

Studious II

The day after his marriage, utterly distraught by the look of confusion and dissatisfaction on his wife’s face after the bedding, Prince Aemond Targaryen came to terms with the fact that he desperately needed help. And though it went against every instinct he had to ask for it, he would much rather admit this weakness – this shortcoming – than suffer seeing that disappointment on her sweet face each time he came to her.

He went to Grand Maester Orwyle first. For while he had taken a vow of chastity, his knowledge of anatomy would be more than useful. Besides, he had always been kind and patient with Aemond during their lessons in his youth – he would not judge the Prince for this failing.

For more practical knowledge, he asked Lord Jasper Wylde, his father’s Master of Laws. His long-held position on the Small Council proved he could be trusted. More than that, the man had seeded twenty-seven surviving legitimate children thus far, and another was soon expected. ‘Ironrod’ clearly knew what he was doing.

Lastly, Aemond reluctantly enlisted the help of his older brother. He had his doubts about whether Aegon actually knew anything useful. Still, no one could deny that he had more relevant experience than anyone in King’s Landing who was not a whore.

Aemond listened to their advice diligently, as if it were no different from anything else he had studied. And, like always, he had been a good student.

The glorious sounds his wife had made when he started putting his lessons to use still echoed in his mind. The gentle whine when he had kissed her. The sharp inhale when he had started caressing her. The shiver that ran through her when he found her ‘pearl,’ as Aegon had called it. And her delicious gasp when he found that sweet spot inside her.

But there were other sounds – worse sounds. The alarm in her voice after he had brushed his tongue against her lips. Her confusion as to why he was touching her at all. How her eyes had gone wide with panic when he began to pleasure her, and how she had begged him to stop.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hiding her face in her pillows after he smiled at seeing her find her own pleasure as he thrust into her – as though the very idea of enjoying being with him was something incomprehensible. Like it scared her.

She hadn’t wanted to look at him, kiss him, or be pleased by him. And she hadn’t come.

So, he assembled his advisors the next day, seeking some explanation of what he had done wrong. Or new instructions on how to please her in a way she wouldn’t eschew.

They had quickly decided the solution wasn’t some new technique, but for Aemond to ‘woo’ her.

The prospect at once delighted and terrified him.

At least he had advisors to help him figure out how.

Indeed, Lord Wylde had taken on the demeanour of a man plotting a war. He asked Aemond to list every detail he knew about his new bride and wrote everything he said word-for-word on a piece of parchment, along with his own commentary and musings on strategies.

Aegon’s comments and observations, mostly concerning her breasts, were not written down.

But the elder Prince did not mind, as he was quickly distracted by his own interrogation of Grand Maester Orwyle. He wanted to know precisely when, why, and how the Maester had pleasured Helaena.

Once Orwyle finished giving him the details, it was clear the Prince was far more impressed than offended. When Aegon finally turned back to the matter at hand, the Maester said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not going to lose his head.

After more than an hour of strategising, they had devised several courses of action for Aemond to try.

“She will be so enamoured by you that you won’t even have to touch her to get her to come,” Aegon declared proudly.

Orwyle and Wylde winced at the Prince’s crass words, but could not deny they also felt confident in the plan.

Aemond growled at his brother, eye blazing with rage. “This isn’t just about sex, Aegon. I want... I want her to like me.”

He sighed and slumped in his chair, running a hand over his flushed face. While he would never admit it aloud, he wanted so much more than to just be liked by his wife.

He wanted her to feel the same thing he felt exploding in his chest every time he looked at her. The intensity of the feeling was more frightening than losing his eye had been. And more thrilling than his first flight on Vhagar.

More than anything, he wanted her to love him – as he loved her.

But as his fingers grazed the leather strap of his eyepatch, he knew it was an impossible dream.

She was so beautiful. So gentle and kind. So pure and full of light.

He was monstrous. In the years since losing his eye, he had become as hideous in his soul as he was in the flesh. He had delved so deep into the darkness of his anger, resentment, and hatred that he knew there was no escape.

Until she had come into his life.

From the first moment he saw her step out of her father’s carriage, he knew that if she looked on him affectionately and allowed her holy light to shine upon him just once… perhaps he could be saved from damnation.

“I need her to like me,” he sighed, feeling not like the fearsome Prince and warrior he was, but like a whimpering, desperate child.

A dozen snide, and admittedly quite witty, comments died on Aegon’s lips. Once, he would not have hesitated to say them, to laugh at the hurt in his brother’s eyes.

But that was before Driftmark.

Before he had failed to protect Aemond from their bastard nephews – spurred on by the very teasing Aegon had once led them in. Though he wasn’t there when the eye was actually cut, he knew that if he hadn’t been such a twat before then, his brother would be whole.

He would still be an awkward, pathetic mess with no clue how to fuck a woman properly, but… he wouldn’t think himself so unworthy of his wife.

“Well,” Aegon drawled, slipping back into the mask of the blithe, carefree Prince everyone knew him to be. “I think we can at least manage ‘like.’ Now, get off your brooding ass, woo the girl, and make her come!”

You sat comfortably in a secluded corner of the Red Keep’s library, reading the book you had been forced to set down after your husband’s arrival in your chambers the night before.

Libraries were all the same, no matter where they were. The peaceful quiet interrupted only by the turning of heavy pages every so often. The soft shafts of yellow sunlight streaming through the small windows – stained glass, if you were lucky. The smell of old paper and well-worn leather.

It was far too easy to imagine you were back in your father’s library at home. Even better, this little corner you found felt as private as your own rooms.

More private, perhaps. Here, Prince Aemond could not barge in requesting you perform your marital duties.

Or so you thought.

A shadow stopped in front of you, blocking out the mottled sunlight you were using to read. Thinking that perhaps it was later than you’d thought, and one of the Maesters had come to tell you that you’d once again stayed past the library curfew, you looked up with a polite smile.

And met the single violet eye of your husband.

“Good afternoon, wife,” he greeted, dipping his head slightly and giving a decidedly awkward smile.

With his dimples, he was very nearly handsome when he smiled. But it did not quite reach his eye, and his brow was set too hard for you to truly see him as such.

Blinking rapidly as you tried to quickly hide your disappointment that your private reading spot was discovered, you returned the smile as best you could. “Husband.”

Aemond stared at you as though he expected more, as was apparently his habit, but you only stared back.

Why should it fall to you to put more effort into the marriage than he did?

Finally, he cleared his throat slightly. “I was wondering if I may join you in your reading? I noticed last night that you were reading Valyrian history. It is a favourite subject of mine.”

Indeed, you had begun studying the history of House Targaryen more in-depth the moment your betrothal was announced. You wanted to familiarise yourself with the family you were to join.

Though your ideas about becoming a true member of the family faded quickly, you continued your research. As much as the disappointment of your marriage had made you loathe to admit it, it was a fascinating history.

But now it meant Aemond wanted to read with you…

“I am sure you’ve read this particular history before,” you said, shyly showing him the title. It was little more than a beginner’s primer, almost more a storybook than a proper history, but you had to start somewhere. “Would you not rather read something more… novel?”

He laughed slightly, and you realised you had just unintentionally made a play on words. And not even a particularly clever one.

“Seeing my family’s history through your eyes would be quite ‘novel,’ as you so cleverly put it,” he replied, obviously quite determined, if he was willing to compliment you.

Was that… the first compliment he ever gave you?

When he smiled at you like that, it brought you back to the way he smiled when he had done… whatever it was he had done while he was inside you that made your vision burst into stars.

You blushed as heat pooled in your stomach at the memory, and the feelings that came with it. Your feelings about him, which you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to sort through – if you even wanted to.

He had made you feel so small and unwanted in the training yard when he grimaced and ran away from you. But then he had touched you so gently and gazed at you reverently at your slight gasp of pleasure like it was as beautiful a sound as he’d ever heard.

And then he left. Again.

But that was what you wanted – wasn’t it?

You had no idea what you wanted. And right now, figuring it out wasn’t your primary concern.

What he wanted from you was.

You prayed it was honestly just to discuss history.

So, you smiled as genuinely as you could and gestured to the seat across from you. “Then I would be… happy to have you join me.”

His eye lingered slightly on the seat next to you, but he nodded and took the seat you indicated.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Should I…” you began, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak.

You looked down, clamping your lips shut to let him speak first – as a good wife does.

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh before setting his hand on the table. You watched as he flexed his fingers, wondering for a moment if he wanted you to reach out as well – if he wanted to hold your hand.

It was a ridiculous thought. One you silently scolded yourself for as you gripped the book harder, keeping your hands firmly where they were.

Silence fell as he mulled over his words, the left corner of his mouth twitching every so often as though he had almost decided what to say. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply sat there, pondering how uncomfortable you had become in this once-soothing place.

When it was just you, you savoured the silence. When he was here, you abhorred it.

“Do you have any questions?” Aemond asked, finally breaking the silence.

His words confused you. Was he referring to the book or to him? You had so many questions about what he had done last night, though you were more than a little afraid to ask them.

“What kind of questions should I have?” you replied, ashamed by how small your voice came out. Hopefully, he interpreted it as respect for the library.

He quirked his head, his lips again spreading in that not-quite smile, not-quite frown he often made after you had said something to him. Then, on the table, his hand curled into a fist.

“Just…” he gestured to the book. “Questions about what you don’t understand. I would be more than happy to help you.”

If your mind had been clearer, perhaps you would have seen the offer for what it was: a genuine desire to help and, perhaps, a way to get to know you better.

But something about Aemond clouded all your good sense as thoroughly as a stormy sea.

Your brow instantly furrowed in anger. Did he really think you were so stupid you could not understand a simple book meant for children?

“I have no questions,” you said coldly, your voice louder and harder than before.

Aemond blinked, his eye widening as he reached further across the table toward you. “I… I have studied the histories extensively, and I know they are complicated and difficult to understand. If there is anything that you are struggling with, or – ”

“Of course,” you cut him off. All your mother’s advice about how to be a good, dutiful wife was long forgotten as your anger rose higher and higher. “It is quite a difficult book. The words, I’m afraid, are well past my simple understanding. I’ve actually only been looking at the illustrations.”

His face was frozen, his eye wide, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He looked remarkably like a freshly caught fish. You laughed at the thought, slammed the book shut, and stood.

“Although,” you hissed. “Even the pictures have started to become too ‘complicated’ for me. I’m afraid my headache is returning.”

He finally blinked and leaned across the table, truly reaching for your hand now. “No… I didn’t…”

You stepped away, harshly pulling your hand away from his. “If you will excuse me, husband. I must rest before the evening meal, or else I fear I will be too exhausted to participate in any intelligent conversation.”

That look of hurt again came over Aemond’s face, but you were far too angry to care. As you stomped out of the library, you did look back at him once.

If you had, you would have seen him slump over in his chair with his head in his hands before he pounded his clenched fist against the wood table, earning quite the scolding from a nearby Maester.

You once again did not attend the evening meal with Aemond and his family.

It had been a hard decision to come to. You had even dressed before finally deciding to remain in your rooms. But in the end, you supposed that the consequences of missing a second night would be easier to endure than an evening sitting next to your husband.

Your husband, who so obviously disliked you and thought you were an idiot.

That was what he had insinuated, wasn’t it? Why else would he have offered you help in understanding a children’s history book?

It was stupid of you to even want to read about Targaryen history, you scolded yourself. It was little more than a repetitive tale of countless generations of dragonriders who all shared the same handful of names. A stupid story about a stupid civilisation.

But as you sat at your desk eating your solitary meal, you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t left the book in the library.

You contemplated sending one of your maids to fetch it, but you had no doubt Aemond would hear about it. That is, if he hadn’t just taken it himself.

Oh gods, what if he had?

He would find the notes you had made and tucked into the cover – including the family tree you sketched to keep all the names straight. It would only confirm his suspicions about your intellect.

You could picture his smug smile when he found the notes. The way the corners of his mouth would lift just enough to expose his dimples. There would be an arrogant twinkle in that violet eye. Perhaps he would be so amused by his simple-minded wife that he would have to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Those lovely pink lips that had felt so soft on yours…

Shaking your head violently to banish the foolish, lustful thoughts, you took a long drink of your wine. Hopefully, it would soothe your nerves enough for you to think about anything but Aemond. Or at least enough to calm your breathing and banish the heat that bloomed beneath your thighs.

Once again, you lost your appetite and sent your meal away only half-eaten.

You needed to pray.

That was the only answer. The only way you could rid your mind of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

You had only just grabbed your copy of The Seven-Pointed Star when there was a knock at the door.

Not again.

“Who is it?” you asked, heart pounding with both nervousness and anticipation.

“It is Grand Maester Orwyle, Princess,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Queen sent word you were unwell.”

A great wave of relief and disappointment washed over you, your book falling to the floor as your hands went slack. “Yes, come in,” you called.

Then, to yourself, you whispered, “I am quite unwell, indeed.”

The next afternoon, you sat comfortably on your couch, still in your nightgown and robe. It was improper, yes. But after assessing you in your somewhat panicked state the night before, Orwyle commanded you be relieved of your duties for the next few days.

‘Duties’ was a strong word, as your responsibilities only required you to stand silently next to your husband at court and gossip with the Ladies in the afternoon.

Still, you were glad to be rid of them, even if only for a few days. You had plans to go to Sept and pray and to sort out your feelings for your husband – the frightening, complicated feelings that had you so rattled that the Grand Maester himself thought you to be genuinely ill.

But not today.

Today, you would simply rest, drink your chamomile tea, and read the books your maid had fetched from the library.

None of them were history books. That had been the one requirement you had. Well, that and no romance.

So, as you sipped your tea, you allowed yourself to fall into the world of your book – a world of grand adventure, mythical beasts, and a pirate lord with a dashing smile and eyepatch…

Damn.

You threw the book aside, dangerously near the lit hearth, and crossed your arms. But before you could get too far into your wallowing, there was a knock at your door. Again.

“Who is it?” you called, eyes blazing as though you could see through the wood and smite whoever stood behind the door.

There was silence.

“It is Aemond,” came his soft, melodic voice. “May I please come in?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to say ‘no. No, I don’t want to see you.’

“Yes, you may,” your voice said instead. You baulked, unsure how the words came out so wrong.

The moment he stepped through the door, you turned your eyes down. You didn’t want to look at him, for you knew if you did, your logic would abandon you as whatever it was you felt for him overcame you.

But then you caught a flash of bright pink, and your head snapped up.

Aemond was carrying a small bouquet of dog roses, your favourite flower.

The large blooms were the most vibrant pink you had ever seen, perhaps even more so than in the fields where they grew back at home. Even the dot of yellow in their centres seemed as bright as the sun.

They seemed so out of place against the wall of black leather that was Aemond.

Slowly, you looked up from the flowers to face your husband. He had crossed the room to stand before you – awkwardly, as always. His lips were pursed, and his brow set in a deep furrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly and quietly, stiffly holding the flowers out to you. “For what I said yesterday.”

You did not move to take them. Did not blink. Did not breathe.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued, arm still extended. With the flowers only inches from your face, you could see how tightly he held the stems – his knuckles were bone white. “I spoke without thinking, and my words did not accurately reflect my intentions. I only meant – ”

His voice faltered as you reached up for the flowers. You did not want him to snap the stems. They would die more quickly if he did.

As your fingers brushed his, he flinched, dropping the flowers unceremoniously onto your lap. You immediately grabbed them, carefully examining each bloom to ensure it was not damaged. Thankfully, they were intact.

You stared and stared at them, memories flooding your mind. Every year, your entire family would journey to the fields where the dog roses bloomed. First, you would picnic together in the grass, the happiest meal of the year. Then, when you were finished, you and your siblings would race to examine each flower, competing to see who could find the loveliest bloom.

They would do so without you this year.

Distantly, you heard Aemond saying your name, drawing your attention back to him. He was frowning, his brow crumpled. “I thought…” he whispered, “I thought you would like them.”

You blinked, confused by his words. But the motion sent the tears welling in your eyes spilling down your cheeks. You were so caught up in your memories you did not notice you were crying.

As you looked back down at the flowers, you missed the subtle movement of Aemond’s hand, reaching out to wipe the tears away. Instead, when you moved away, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails began to bite into his palm.

“I miss home,” was all you could say before the tears began to fall in earnest.

Aemond stepped back, bumping into the low table before the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Then he turned, stumbling into the table once more, and left.

As the sound of the shutting door echoed in your mind, you did not know whether you were still crying from your homesickness, or because he had left you again.

After Aemond left, and you had finally stopped crying, you had one of your maids set the bouquet in a vase. But not before you had carefully inspected each stem to be sure they were intact.

Somehow, they were.

You put the vase on your vanity where the flowers could catch the sunlight before crawling into your bed, intending to take a nap after what was an unintentionally exhausting morning.

But you did not find sleep.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling, thinking over what Aemond said.

He had apologised for making you feel stupid, and then you immediately cried over flowers.

You had never felt more stupid.

And now you felt like you needed to apologise.

So, despite having Orwyle’s official permission to skip all your obligations, you finally rose from your bed as the sun set and asked your maids to dress you for dinner.

Because you made your decision to attend the evening meal at the last minute, the rest of the family had already begun eating when you arrived.

Aemond, who sat facing the door, was the first to see you. His eye immediately went wide, and he stood so quickly that a servant had to catch his chair before it toppled to the ground.

Aegon began laughing hysterically.

Queen Alicent shushed him once before she stood, giving you a mildly concerned but otherwise pleasant smile. “I’m so glad you could join us, my dear,” she said pleasantly as she gestured for you to sit. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“I have simply been tired,” you assured her as you slowly walked around the table to your place. Curious, they had still set a place for you, despite your missing the last two meals. “Adjusting to life at court has been more difficult than I thought.”

As you came to stand before your chair, Aemond held a hand out to help you sit. Then, just as you had only hours before, you looked from his hand to his face. His brow was still set in a furrow, but he was almost smiling.

You took his hand, squeezing it tighter than you usually would. The only forgiveness you could give while being watched by his mother, grandsire, and siblings.

He seemed to understand, giving you a real smile – a breathtakingly beautiful smile – as you sat. You wanted to return it, but all your lips would do was tremble pathetically. You were sure that if you opened your mouth, you would burst into tears. So, you fixed your eyes on your plate and listened to the idle conversation around you.

Aemond himself began serving your plate, somehow knowing exactly what you liked and what you didn’t. When he finished, you looked over to him briefly and nodded your thanks, earning another of those beautiful smiles.

Your stomach flipped, and you told yourself it was only because you were hungry.

Neither you nor Aemond said anything to each other for the rest of the meal. Instead, you were more than content to simply listen. Or try to.

You were all too aware of every movement Aemond made. The way his long, elegant fingers gripped his goblet. The severe line of his jaw moving when he responded to his grandsire’s questions. The way he sat, legs bowed slightly outward to allow him comfortably at the table.

If you weren’t careful, your leg would brush against his.

You made sure to be very careful.

What you were not aware of was Prince Aegon’s eyes on you, noticing each time your eyes slid to his brother. Every so often, he would dip his chin and raise his brows when he made eye contact with Aemond, nodding toward you in encouragement.

Aemond noticed, but did nothing to act on it.

Not until the meal was ended and everyone rose from the table. He stepped to your side and extended his arm, accidentally bumping you, rather firmly, with his sharp elbow and causing you to jump away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond said hastily. “I just… I hoped I could escort you back to your chambers?”

You looked at him for a moment, at the near-pleading in his eye, and nodded, slipping your arm into his for the first time since your wedding ceremony, and began to lead you through the castle halls.

As your private chambers were separate from the rest of the family’s, you were alone as you walked. You were not sure whether you were grateful for it or not.

The silence was palpable and nearly painful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Aemond stumbled at the unexpected sound. “For the flowers, I mean. They are a favourite from home.”

You looked up at him, and he gave another half-smile, but said nothing.

Silence fell once more.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Aemond said, nearly shouting the sudden words. The corner of his lips twitched when you looked at him in shock. “This dress suits you much better than the one you wore yesterday, and is far more flattering than your nightclothes.”

Any warmth you felt at the initial compliment was thoroughly snuffed out at the remainder of the comment. Though you once more felt like crying, you schooled your features into indifference as you turned away from him, only looking straight ahead.

“I did not know you disliked them so,” you muttered, removing your arm from his and clasping your hands in front of you. You fixed your gaze straight ahead and did not waver. “I will not wear them again.”

Aemond stilled, but you did not break your stride. You only knew he followed after a moment when you heard the soft sounds of his boots against stone.

You walked in silence until you reached your door, then turned back to him. “Is there anything you require of me tonight, husband?”

He wore that expression of hurt that caused your chest to tighten, but you did not allow yourself to react. Finally, after a long moment, he licked his lips and shook his head once.

That was all the dismissal you needed. You opened your door just enough to slip through and shut it firmly behind you.

You did not speak to your maids as they prepared you for bed until they presented you with one of your favourite cotton nightgowns and your robe.

“Not those,” you whispered, though you longed for their comfort and warmth. “Something else. Anything else.”

They dressed you in one of the thin silk nightdresses, one which matched the colour of the dress you just removed. Though it was soft and luxurious against your skin, as you settled beneath your covers, you felt cold.

In the hall, Aemond took a stumbling step forward to rest his forehead against your door, his hand resting on the handle but not moving. He stayed like that for many long moments, silently cursing himself, before he stepped away and retreated to his own chambers.

The following day, you woke still feeling tired. It had been hard to find sleep when you felt so cold. When curling into yourself still did not warm you, you rose from the bed and stalked to your dressing room, determined to find your more comfortable nightclothes.

But the moment you ran your hand over the well-worn brocade of your robe, Aemond’s words again echoed in your mind.

He was right. It was not flattering. Your father had it made when you were younger, and he had obviously expected you to grow as large and tall as your brothers. But you had not, and the robe still overwhelmed your frame.

Your maids had offered to take it in to make it fit better, but you had denied them. You liked the way you could disappear into it, how it could double as a blanket, the way it streamed behind you as you ran through the halls of your father’s keep.

It was familiar – it was home.

Now Aemond had ruined it, as he had your dreams of a happy marriage.

Reluctantly, you rang the bell for your maids, apologising for the late hour, and asked for another blanket.

But worse than the aching in your bones and the heaviness of your head was the sinking feeling in your stomach when your maids told you that Aemond had sent word asking you to come watch him fight in the training yard.

No reason was given. Why would there be? A man did not need a reason to summon his wife.

You wanted to ignore the request. With Orwyle’s orders that you should rest, you easily could. Yet you could not deny the sinful part of you that remembered how you felt watching him train only days ago.

With his sword in hand, Aemond was a different man. He was graceful and confident – the Prince you imagined when you first heard of your betrothal. The sight of him had lit the smouldering fire of desire within you, shameful as it was.

Despite your prayers, the memory of his seeming indifference, and his more recent insults, you could not deny you wanted to see that man again.

So, you once again donned your warmest cloak – only after confirming with your maids countless times that it was flattering – and headed to the training yard.

Aemond was not in the ring when you arrived but sulking by a table full of weapons. His arms were crossed tightly in front of him, and though he faced the ring, he was not truly focused on the fight. He looked as distant as he did on your wedding night, just before he asked you to get in the bed.

That is until one of the Kingsguard – the Dornish one – pointed to you on the ramparts, and he looked to you.

You braced for another grimace, but it did not come. Were it not for the slight, almost hopeful raise of his brows, you would think him completely indifferent.

He turned back to the weapons table, quickly selecting a longsword and walking to the ring, barking an order that immediately disbanded the current melee. You watched him jump up and down, stretching and shaking his limbs to prepare for his own fight.

The Kingsguard stepped into the ring with him, wielding a large morningstar. The sight of the fearsome weapon sent a shiver of fear through your veins, but you quickly brushed it aside in favour of a small surge of pride.

You had seen Aemond fight. Surely success would come easily.

Though perhaps not.

At the first strike of the Morningstar, Aemond fell to one knee as his shield shattered. You startled, prompting the old Lord to your side to set a hand on your back and whisper his assurances.

“The Prince is a fine warrior,” he said, “a single strike will not fell him.”

But it was not only the one strike.

Over and over, the Kingsguard’s weapon struck, Aemond only barely avoiding it each time.

Once, after Aemond was forced to concede several steps back, the Kingsguard let his offensive stance fall and whispered something. Your husband only growled back at him, loud enough for you to hear from where you watched. Though even in the ferocity of his new advance, he fumbled through his strikes.

This was not the man you watched in the training yard before. However, there were hints of him, sometimes – a graceful swing of the sword, the agile avoidance of an incoming strike, or a strong blocking with his shield (which was replaced several times).

Though those glimpses were few, they were enough to light that fire once more as each one sent that tingling down your spine.

You even considered going down into the yard when the fight was over and asking him to take you back to your chambers.

The idea when quickly squashed when the fight ended badly.

A powerful blow from the morningstar sent Aemond backwards into the dirt. He only barely hung onto his sword. The Kingsguard dropped his weapon and approached the Prince with his hand outstretched.

Aemond did not accept it. Instead, he swatted the knight aside as he stood, driving his sword point-first into the dirt. Then, after whispering something you could not hear but could tell by the fury in his eyes was harsh and likely cruel, he turned and left the training yard.

Without a single glance your way.

Aemond did not attend the family meal that evening. He could not bear to face his wife after such a mortifying display.

Seeing her disappointment would break him, he was sure. Though worse was the possibility that she may laugh at him – mock him, as he had unintentionally mocked her.

Gods, he had not fought so poorly since he was a mere boy and had not yet been allowed to wield real steel. Perhaps the next day, Cole would give him his wooden practice sword back. He would deserve it, for both his abysmal performance and his arrogance.

When Lord Wylde suggested he invite her to ‘witness his martial prowess,’ he had let himself fall victim to Aegon’s flattery and his own vanity. And the gods had seen fit to punish him for it.

He would beg their forgiveness later. After he committed another sin. One he had been indulging in far too often of late.

Though his body – already sore from the fight – protested every movement, Aemond removed all his clothes. All the while, he tried not to think about the wrongness of what he was about to do or how much he had embarrassed himself, but about his wife.

How beautiful she had looked on the ramparts. How her hair floated so gracefully in the wind. How the colour of her cloak brought out a delightful sparkle in her eyes. How she had jumped each time Cole landed a blow.

That she cared whether he lived or died should not make his heart flutter as it did, but he would take whatever she would give him, even if it was the barest of affection.

When he was naked and laid himself across his bed, his cock was suitably hard and leaking. Still, he reached for the small phial of oil Aegon gave him when he suggested he ‘practice building his stamina.’

“It is a sin,” Aemond had hissed, horrified by the mere suggestion.

Aegon only shrugged. “So is killing. But we do so in war without fearing the wrath of the gods. Why? Because it is in pursuit of a noble goal. I would say making your wife c… happy and satisfied is a noble goal, wouldn’t you?”

It was an impressive logic – for Aegon. Still, Aemond went to the Sept each morning to ask the gods for forgiveness.

And each night, like now, he practised.

After depositing a droplet of oil into his palm, he took hold of his cock and began to slowly stroke himself.

It was nothing like being in his wife. No matter what he did, he could not replicate that wonderful feeling. So he quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he pumped himself hard and fast, trying to get to the edge of his peak as quickly as he could – and then stopped. He curled his hand into a fist at his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting a few agonising moments before resuming at a slower pace.

The only thing that made that waiting bearable was assuring himself what it would lead to – or what he hoped it would lead to.

He pictured his wife as she had been when he was touching her. How she had come so close to giving herself over to pleasure.

He hoped she would not ask him to stop the next time. Instead, she would let him touch her until she came. She would let him taste her, something he had never considered before Aegon told him of it, but which he now craved like a man lost in the desert craved water. She would beg him to fuck her, to once again brush his cock against that spot inside her, over and over until they both came apart.

And he would gladly obey. He would do anything she asked – if she only would.

Aemond brought himself almost to coming over and over until his stones ached from being denied so long. Only then did he allow himself release, spilling across his stomach with his wife’s name on his lips.

The dinner felt unbearably strange without Aemond beside you. No excuses for his absence were given; it was apparently not a subject anyone else was curious about.

So, you ate your food, spoke when you were spoken to, and excused yourself the moment you were done eating.

Though he had never much talked to you at meals, his presence was still somehow missed. You missed the touch of his hand as he helped you into your seat, the low timbre of his voice when he answered a question from his mother or grandsire, and the warmth of his gaze whenever you caught him looking at you.

You missed all those little joys, which you only then realised were indeed joys, so much that you would gladly endure his insults and criticism if it only meant he was there. Besides, you liked how he had gawked in the library when you mocked him in return. That could become a fun little game…

As you left the dining hall, thinking about how he had smiled at you the night before, you found yourself turning not for your own chambers, but for his.

Perhaps he was hurt from his fall, and that was why he was not there. Surely, it was only concern for his health that had you turning this way, nothing more.

But then you took another step forward, and you knew.

You desired him.

The shock and shame of it had you immediately retreating to your own rooms.

You quickly had your maids prepare you for bed, dressing in another silk slip of a nightdress before sending them away and curling beneath your blankets.

Soon, your own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The godsdamned crickets had gone silent again, wishing for you to hear every shameful thought you had clearly.

You thought of the strength he had shown in holding off the Kingsguard’s attacks. The strength you had seen in the tautness of his muscles as he hovered over you. As he used those hands that so skillfully wielded a sword to bring you pleasure.

Your legs squeezed together of their own accord at the thought, and you became all too aware of a wetness between your thighs – the wetness he had once coaxed out of you with his gentle touch.

Spreading your legs and trying not to think about the sin of what you were doing, you slowly raised the hem of your nightdress and slid your hand over your folds.

Where Aemond’s fingers were warm, yours were cold. You rubbed your hand over your thigh momentarily, remembering him doing the same thing, before touching yourself again.

This part of you was unfamiliar, and you fumbled around more than Aemond had that first night.

You found your entrance first but shied away from slipping a finger inside. Somehow, that felt too wrong, too much of a sin.

But that was not the only place Aemond had touched that brought you pleasure.

Following the same line his thumb had taken, you searched from that little spot that had sent lightning through you.

It took some time, but you found it.

Though, no matter how fast you moved your finger or how hard you pressed, your own touch did not bring you nearly as much pleasure as Aemond’s had. Finally, after many long minutes, your attempts were causing far more frustration than anything else, and you ripped your hand away from your sex.

You nearly cried when you saw your fingers glistening – with bright red blood.

Your moon’s blood was here.

You were not pregnant.

The next morning, you immediately sent for raspberry tea to soothe the aching that had already taken hold in your abdomen and did not get out of bed until it had arrived and you had drunk two cups full.

Then, you wished you had not gotten out of bed at all. There was another note from your husband – he wanted to meet you for a walk in the gardens.

At least it meant he was not hurt. But to face him after what you had done, or tried to do…

A good wife did not do what you did. A good wife would have gone to his chambers and made sure he was well, would have let him take comfort in you.

Gods, you should have done so. You wished so badly that you had done so.

You could not change what you did, but you could be a good wife from this point on – you would be.

So, despite your pains, you dressed and headed for the gardens, where his note said he would be waiting for you all morning.

You spent the entire walk through the castle praying. To the Father for forgiveness for your sin. To the Mother for forgiveness for failing your husband and to beg that his seed quickened the next time. To the Crone for the wisdom to be a good wife – again, as the same prayer had obviously not worked the first time. To the Warrior, for the courage you would need to face Aemond. To the Smith, to repair what had been broken between you. And to the Stranger for whatever you had forgotten to include in your prayers to the others.

Truly, you needed the blessing of each of the Seven.

It was only by clutching the Seven-Pointed Star pendant until your fingers hurt that you did not collapse at the sight of Aemond.

He looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. The soft sunlight streaming through the few leaves that still remained on the trees set his hair aglow, like he was touched by the gods themselves. Indeed, they must have been tempting your devotion to your promise. Why else would they make him appear so tempting?

You swallowed thickly, grateful you had approached him from the left, so he would not see you gawking. Then, once you had regained your composure, thanks in no small part to a new wave of pain in your belly overwhelming any desire, you stepped forward and curtsied.

“Husband,” you greeted with as much sweetness in your voice as you could muster, “thank you for the invitation to join you today.”

Aemond stood from the bench and bowed back to you, even though protocol did not require it. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a shy smile. “I was worried that… you might not.”

“It would be improper for a wife to deny her husband’s wishes,” you replied.

Dutiful. Polite. A good wife.

But Aemond’s smile fell. “I hope you do not feel you had to come here just because I asked,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze. “I hope that you wanted to come.”

You found yourself almost smiling at him, at the sentiment he offered. Then, nodding, you stepped forward and awkwardly held your hand out for a moment before returning it to your side. “I have not yet had the chance to see the gardens. Will you show me?”

He looked as though you had just offered him a kingdom and held out his arm for you to take.

Despite the heat radiating off him, you shivered as you looped your arm through his, and he began to lead you down the flagstone path.

You walked in silence for a while, but it was not as heavy or uncomfortable as before. There was only the faintest hint of tension between you, the rest replaced by a kind of contentment – unfamiliar but pleasant.

Aemond only spoke to name some of the plants you saw. How he knew exactly which ones you could not identify yourself, you did not know. He just… knew.

You stopped in front of the gnarled trunk of a wisteria vine. It was not in bloom, and most of its leaves had fallen, but it was still beautiful in its bareness.

“It is wisteria,” Aemond said after a moment, pointing with a finger to trace its path from its roots to the very ends of the vine some twenty feet away on a trellis. “At the end of spring, it will produce hanging blooms that are a lovely shade of purple.”

You looked up at him, at his one eye and its lovely shade of purple – the colour of wisteria, you realised.

Before you knew it, you were smiling so wide it hurt your cheeks. “I know,” you replied, your voice almost a laugh. “It is one of my favourites.”

Feeling yourself begin to blush furiously, you turned back toward the plant. “There was one even larger than this right outside my window at my father’s keep.”

Aemond did not – could not – respond. You had just smiled at him, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

You walked through the gardens on Aemond’s arm until you had seen every plant, every flower, every leaf. It was the happiest you had been since arriving in King’s Landing, and indeed in many years before.

But it could not last forever. While you were merely a wife, Aemond was a Prince. He had duties far more important than walking with his wife. So, when he mentioned the hour was growing late, you did not ask him to stay.

You merely removed your arm from his, bowed your head, and whispered your farewell. As a good wife does.

Yet Aemond remained in front of you, the look in his eye so intense you had to turn away.

“May I come to your chambers tonight?” he asked, his voice small but firm.

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to say yes – to kiss him and feel his touch once more. But…

“My moon’s blood arrived today,” you told him quickly before the fear in your gut could still your tongue.

Until he made that request, you had been enjoying the time spent with your husband so dearly that you had nearly forgotten the pain in your belly, the undeniable proof of your failure to produce an heir.

Your failure to be a good wife.

As tears sprang to your eyes, you watched his face twist with confusion, then crumple with despair, and finally, freeze into an expression you could not name.

Once more, he felt like a mystery to you – a stranger. Had you really come to know him so well, to care for him enough that even a single unknown expression could cause you this much pain?

You must have, for the pain in your empty womb was nothing compared to that which now took hold of your heart.

He looked to the flagstones below you, his mouth starting and failing to find words. “I…” he began, then stopped.

“Aemond?” you asked, desperate now for him to say anything, even if it was to call you stupid again.

Your mind was so clouded by fear at what he may say next that you did not realise it was the first time you had called him by his name since the wedding ceremony.

His eye met yours again, and he raised his brows. “Thank you for the walk.”

And then he left. Again.

To your credit, you did not cry until you were back in your rooms.

You did not go to dinner that night or even eat the meal that was brought to your rooms.

You only prayed and cried and prayed some more. Until you fell asleep on the couch in your sitting room.

After waking in the dark at some point in the night, with a blanket over your shoulders. You knew you should move to the bed, or you would be sore in the morning. But whatever you did, you would be sore for at least a few more days. So, you stayed on the couch.

For a while, you watched the door, hoping that Aemond would walk through and throw himself at your feet as he begged your forgiveness. And despite your better judgment, you would give it to him without hesitation.

But he did not come.

Eventually, you fell asleep again.

When you woke once more, you were indeed sore. But it was quickly forgotten when you saw something unfamiliar on the table before you – a leather-bound journal and a folded note with your name written on it in beautiful script.

Curious but cautious, you only grabbed the note before settling back into your seat to read it:

My dearest wife,

Forgive me for not coming to you myself to apologise, but given the way I acted the last time I did so, I believe you will prefer this.

I am so very sorry that my behaviour towards you has been utterly abhorrent. Please know that my stumbling words and foolish actions come not from a place of malice or even indifference. Rather, they are an attempt by a stupid and incompetent man to try and impress his wife.

There is nothing in the world that I desire so much as to see you happy. Nothing I wish for more than to see your smile and, if the gods bless me, to be the reason for it.

For my love, when you smiled at me yesterday – I have never felt anything so wonderful.

But as the past weeks have shown, I fear I am incapable of presenting myself with dignity when I am in your presence. Your beauty, kindness, and pure goodness overwhelm me the moment I see you, and all my good sense abandons me. No matter my intentions, nor the poetry I compose in my mind prior to coming to you, the very moment I am with you, I become little more than a bumbling idiot, unable to even say ‘hello’ without somehow offending or upsetting you.

So, I will no longer try. I know I have caused you much more discomfort than anything, and it pains me beyond measure. Already, I have begged the Seven for their forgiveness, and now I beg yours.

If you do not wish to give it, I will understand. I will accept whatever you decide and act accordingly. If you wish to not see me again, I will disappear. But I would be doing you a disservice as your husband if I did not at least share with you the depth of my feelings before we are parted – if that is indeed what you desire, though I hope it is not.

I am all too aware that if I tried to do this myself, I would say some ridiculous thing to make you hate me forever. That is, I admit, my greatest fear. So, I have asked the servants to deliver you this note, along with my diary. I know you keep your own, for I have seen it in your chambers. Therefore, you know that what you will read is not merely words, but the truths of my very soul.

Please know that I am not afraid to share it with you. As my wife, you are entitled to know everything about me. But more than that, I want you to. I want you to see all that I am, to know me as well as the gods themselves. I pray that what you will learn will not frighten or upset you but show you the man I so wish to be. The man I would be, if you allow me.

I pray you will like him, perhaps even learn to love him. For he loves you so very, very much.

I have marked the passages I most want you to read, but you have my permission to read everything. I will not hide anything from you, not anymore.

With all my love, more than you know,

Your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen

As you lowered the note, now stained with several of your tears, you looked at the journal – the diary – on the table. It contained the truth of your husband, the man who had confused and angered you, delighted and amazed you.

It was a truth that, once you knew it, would change you forever.

But you had already been changed, hadn’t you? Irrevocably. The only thing the diary would change was whether it was for the better or for the worse.

So, after one last prayer, you set Aemond’s note back on the table, picked up the diary, and began to read.

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formulauno98 · 3 months ago

Text

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter Ten / Thursday Evening, Four Months Post-Break-Up - George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Angst!!! 🌶 This one is a little spicy. 18+ only. If you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

I'm sorry this chapter took forever to post, life got very busy and some of you may have seen that I had someone plagiarising my work on Wattpad and was NOT happy. I got it taken down and finally felt ready to finish this bad boy.

There will be one more chapter coming up shortly, aptly named Chalet Girl Winter. Hope you like it and thank you to everyone who reported the person who was stealing my work 🫶🏽

THURSDAY EVENING, FOUR MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

George's alcohol-glazed eyes bore into yours in a way that made you almost uncomfortable. Surely he did not mean what he just said and was just drunk? Before you could determine an appropriate response, your door buzzed for the second time that evening. Your heart leapt to your throat, knowing exactly who it was.

Toto.

“Who’s that?” asked George, his tone suspicious.

“Well…” you stumbled over your words, “I was trying to tell you. It’s Toto….”

George’s expression shifted to horror as he groaned. “Amazing,” he muttered. “Just what I need. I’ll go, forget what I said.”

Your eyes softened, “George…” Before you could finish your sentence, the buzz came again, Toto was obviously growing impatient. “I better get that,” you said, George huffing in response.

You stood there in awkward silence, George glowering as he knew Toto was on his way up and there was no escaping seeing him. Fortunately, the pair of you didn’t stand there long before there was a knock on your door.

Taking a deep breath, you opened it to reveal Toto standing there, handsome as ever, grinning, holding an impressive bouquet, even larger than the one George had brought.

“Hi,” he said, his smile faltering as he stepped inside and clocked George standing in the hallway behind you, "Hi George, what’s going on here?"

George turned to face Toto, his face now filled with rage, "Of course, you’re here" he spat. "You just can't stay away, can you?"

"George, calm down, Toto, come in," you said, Toto looking shocked as he stepped inside. You quickly closed the door, not wanting your neighbours to overhear the drama unfolding, stepping between the two men.

"I don’t think you’re in a position to lecture me," George snapped, his voice rising as he stepped forward, squaring up to Toto over your shoulder. "Why do you think you can just come here and replace me? Steal my girlfriend?"

Toto, to his credit, remained calm, handing you the bouquet he’d been holding, and moving out in front of you, his hands now raised in a placating gesture as he faced the younger man. "George, I understand you're upset. But this isn’t helping anybody."

"Upset? You don’t know the half of it," George shot back. "You think you can just waltz in here with your yacht, all tall, dark and handsome and your big flowers and your charm and…"

"George," Toto interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "Please, I didn’t come here to argue."

The tension in the hallway was palpable and you could see George's anger teetering on the edge. You stepped from behind Toto and placed your free hand on his arm, trying to soothe him. "George, please, it’s been months."

For a moment, you thought George might explode, but then he seemed to deflate, the fight going out of him. "I just... I just wanted to fix things," he mumbled.

“There’s nothing to fix,” you said, looking at the ground as you felt your eyes tearing up. “I’m sorry but I think you should go,”

George glanced back at you, his eyes filled with hurt. "I just don’t understand why things had to end this way. Why him? Of all people?"

"It’s complicated," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "We both deserve to be happy and I think we both know that it wasn’t working between us anymore."

Toto stepped forward, his voice calm and reassuring as he placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. "George, it's clear you still care but right now, the best thing you can do is take care of yourself."

George looked between you and Toto, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Toto nodded and pulled out his phone. "My driver just left, let me message him and he’ll take you home.”

“Okay.” said George, looking at you wistfully, “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

You felt a pang of guilt as you watched George shuffle towards the door as Toto typed out a text. You turned to face your former boyfriend, "George, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I hope you find someone who makes you happy."

He gave you a sad smile. "Yeah, me too." With a glance back towards Toto, he added, "Take care of her."

Toto nodded. "I will.”

Then, much to your surprise, George leant in to hug the older man, perhaps a sign that the journey to forgiveness had begun. “Thanks, boss,” he said.

Toto shot you a look of shock over George’s shoulder, somewhat awkwardly patting him on the back. “I’m sorry for everything.” he said, his deep voice thick with emotion, “I really am.”

George seemed placated by Toto’s words and stepped back from the embrace, his eyes red, filled with emotions. “I appreciate that," he said quietly, casting one last look at you. "I’m sorry I interrupted your evening, I guess I should get going.”

"Don’t be silly. I know it’s weird but you’ll always be welcome here, any time," you replied softly.

“Thank you,” said George, turning to Toto. “Did you say your guy will be here soon? I can wait downstairs and be out of your way.”

“Honestly, take your time,” you said, secretly willing Toto’s driver to arrive asap. As if by magic, Toto’s phone buzzed.

“He’s downstairs,” said Toto, clearly sharing your sentiments as you exchanged a look of relief.

“Thanks, Toto.” said George, “See you guys around.”

As you murmured your goodbyes and George walked out your door, you were floored by the evening’s events. Did George really still love you or was it just the drink talking? If Toto hadn’t come over, what would have happened?

Your mind was racing as you closed the door behind him and Toto immediately pulled you into a comforting embrace, his strong arms enveloping you, putting your mind at ease.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the evening slowly lifting. "I am now. Thank you. I’m sorry about that, it’s not been easy. I bumped into George when I was out earlier and I guess he hit the pub afterwards."

Toto gently rubbed your lower back, soothing your concerns, "No need to apologise, it’s not your fault. I think unfortunately this was always going to happen. He has been behaving strangely with me all season.”

“How come you never said anything?” you asked, leaning into Toto’s chest, “It’s less than ideal.”

“Life is often less than ideal. But we deal with it and move on.” Toto said, pressing a kiss to to top of your head, “How about we get some food and relax? We can take your mind off things."

"That sounds perfect," you replied, “And thank you for these, they’re beautiful,” you added, holding up the huge bouquet Toto had handed to you.

Toto’s goofy grin had returned, “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman. Although I did picture myself giving them to you in different circumstances.”

You laughed as you made your way through to the kitchen to find a vase for them, gesturing for Toto to follow. “You mean to say that you didn’t envisage my ex being here?”

Toto laughed in return, “Not exactly, I can’t blame the guy though. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Surprised by Toto’s admission you stopped in your tracks, “Well don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Toto quirked an eyebrow as you set about arranging both his bouquets and the roses from George in two vases, struggling to fit them in.

“Did George bring you those?” asked Toto, sidling up to the kitchen island.

“Yep,” you said, feeling slightly guilty, “I don’t want to waste them.”

“Of course,” said Toto, smirking slightly as he clocked how much larger his bouquet was.

“Sorry, I’m being the worst hostess, I got some wine out and then George completely distracted me. Would you like some?” you asked, suddenly flustered by Toto’s presence in your kitchen.

“Relax,” said Toto, stepping nearer to you, reaching around to hold your hip from behind as you arranged the flowers, kissing your neck softly, “I will pour us the wine.”

Melting into the tall Austrian, you finished arranging the flowers and turned to face him, “Sorry, I let the stress get to me. I was kind of surprised when you said you were nearby and then George coming over completely blindsided me.”

“Don’t be silly and stop saying sorry” Toto said, gently caressing the side of your face, “I should be one saying sorry if I took you by surprise. I wanted to see you. I had planned to take you out to dinner but maybe a quiet night in is better tonight?”

“A quiet night sounds wonderful,” you said, stretching up to kiss him, finally starting to calm down from your stressful altercation. It was amazing how quickly you had started to feel comfortable with Toto.

“So this is where you live?” asked Toto, pulling away and starting to take in his surroundings for the first time. Your apartment was small but cosy and somehow Toto’s tall frame looked larger than life in the tight space of your kitchen, almost as if he didn’t belong.

“Yes,” you said, feeling awkward as Toto surveyed your domain. “My home for the last four years. I know it’s nothing compared to your yacht even but…”

Toto quickly interrupted you, leaning over to kiss you once more before pouring out two generous glasses of wine. “Stop it. This place is perfect. It’s you and that’s what makes it perfect.”

You chuckled, knowing he was being polite and was used to much grander surroundings, "Thanks. I’ve tried my best!"

Toto finished pouring and handed a glass to you. "To a quiet night in," he toasted, clinking his glass with yours, his eyes crinkling warmly as he smiled at you.

"To a quiet night in," you echoed, taking a sip and feeling the tension of the evening finally begin to melt away.

FRIDAY MORNING

As your eyes fluttered open, crisp Winter sunlight started to spill through the curtains and you were finally content. Toto had kept a firm grip around your waist all night and waking up in his strong arms was bliss. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest pressed up against your back as he slept peacefully.

Having ordered dinner in, spent far too long carefully selecting a film to watch together and then watched it for all of ten minutes before you were all over each other, your quiet night in had taken a wilder turn. Having only had the one time with him on the yacht, you hadn’t known what to expect but Toto had more than delivered. You were sore in the way that you only felt after a night spent fucking, enjoying each other’s company and letting loose for the first time in what felt like forever.

Basking in the post-sex glow, you snuggled closer into Toto before you dropped back off to sleep, knowing that you didn’t have any commitments for the day and could enjoy a lie-in.

– – –

Rousing from your sleep for the second time that morning, this time was different. Your bed was cold, there was no strong arm cuddling you, Toto was nowhere to be seen and your heart dropped. You hadn’t discussed whether he would stay the night but to wake up and find him missing was somewhat disheartening. Perhaps you’d gotten the wrong idea? Cara and Marion’s words of warning swam around in your head, leaving you wondering.

That was until you heard a clatter coming from the kitchen. Easing yourself out of bed, you fetched your bathrobe, slipped it on and made your way to the source of the noise.

“Morning!” said Toto brightly, turning to face you. He was wearing nothing but boxers and a copious dusting of what looked to be flour.

“Good morning,” you said sleepily, making your way over to him, realising what he was doing. He was making pancake batter. You were floored, in what world does a man who has staff to do everything he could ever dream of wake up and start making pancakes? “This looks interesting.”

Toto looked a little sheepish, bending down to kiss you, coating you with a light sprinkle of flour. “Sorry for the mess, I thought I would surprise you with breakfast in bed and clean up without you seeing.”

“Oh my goodness,” you said, “Don’t worry about that!” You smiled widely at your beau, “I thought you’d left, I’m just happy to see you.”

“Why would I leave?” asked Toto, quirking an eyebrow, “I am not working today, I thought I told you.”

Casting your mind back to the previous night, you suddenly recalled him saying something about having Friday free - you were an idiot for thinking otherwise. “Sorry, my bad,” you said, coming closer to him, placing a hand on his hip as you surveyed the carnage that was your worktop. He’d taken the bowl off of your Kitchenaid but managed to coat most of the worktop and himself in flour. “Have you made pancakes before?”

“Have I made pancakes before?” Toto repeated back to you, aghast, “Who do you think I am? A heathen?”

“Well, it’s not like you were making pancakes every day on the yacht…” you replied sheepishly, hoping he wasn’t insulted.

“That was my holiday, I’m not cooking on holiday, especially not for six guests,” said Toto grinning, “Now that you’re up I can ask, do you want tea or coffee? I know you drink both.”

Grinning that he remembered this small detail, you replied, “Maybe coffee this morning, something kept me awake all night.”

Smirking, Toto turned around to face you, “Sounds like a fun night…”

Returning his look, you leaned up once more to catch his lips with yours, “Indeed it was.”

“Well there’s more where that came from,” said Toto boldly, his hands starting to caress your hips as he gazed down at you.

“That’s good to hear,” you said, sliding a hand under the waistband of his boxers, stroking his bare hip idly.

“We have time later, let me finish breakfast, go back to bed and I’ll bring it to you,” said Toto, taking your wandering hand in his.

“No, I can help, honestly,” you said, “How about I make the coffee?”

“Ok.” said Toto, pressing a kiss to your hand before dropping it, “Deal.”

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

By the time Toto had left, he’d spent the best part of the weekend with you, only having left your side to go and grab some fresh clothes, not having planned to stay over. You’d spent a good part of the weekend in bed, making the most of your time together before Toto had to leave for the final race of the season in Abu Dhabi.

Aside from the obvious, you’d also spent time getting to know each other better, exchanging stories about your childhoods, your crazy family members, not to mention your hopes and dreams. Toto was a good listener and you were pleasantly surprised that he even remembered things you’d told him when you’d first gone to explore the cove and sat by the waterfall.

Life could be strange and surprising sometimes and Toto was certainly turning out to be a man full of surprises. If you could have time-travelled back to the days of you sitting patiently in the garage watching George drive around, your past self would have baulked at the idea that you’d now be so close to his intimidating Team Principal who had never even looked twice at you. You knew that you would never have believed it but stranger things had happened.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON, ONE WEEK LATER

The following weekend you settled down on your sofa, a glass of wine and snacks in hand, to watch the final race of the season. The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. Granted, your situation was an odd one, rooting for your ex-boyfriend’s team because your current not-quite boyfriend owned and ran it was a somewhat unusual predicament but you wanted to see how they got on.

Mercedes weren’t fighting for a driver’s championship but could still do well in the constructors and were competing against Ferrari for second place, something you knew that Toto wanted desperately. It meant more to the team collectively and more to the shareholders.

You’d promised him you’d be watching as you’d waved him off so true to your word, you settled down to watch. As the camera panned around you kept an eye out eagerly for any glimpse of Toto. Searching hungrily for that famous white shirt or tousled dark hair. You knew that the cameras often liked to linger during races as he was particularly emotional for a Team Principal so it would only be a matter of time before he was shown.

Sure enough, the race had only been running for a few laps when George made a particularly impressive overtake and Toto was shown enthusiastically celebrating. Butterflies started as you took in his dimpled grin, quickly turning to nausea as the camera panned out to show him wrapping his arm around a willowy blonde on his left-hand side. She was statuesque, beautiful and all too close to the man who’d recently stolen your heart. Tears started to form as you saw him flash a handsome smile at her which she returned, leaning into him, their heads close as his hand lingered on her waist.

You were devastated. Of course, Cara and Marion had warned you about Toto’s playboy tendencies but you naively had believed that Toto was not seeing anyone else. How could you have been so foolish? He was just using you and going home to a model-like blonde. In a fit of rage, you turned the TV off. This was clearly your karma for what you had done to George.

– – –

Having turned your attention to cleaning your flat for the rest of the afternoon, you spent the next few hours dwelling on the cosy image that was now burned into your mind and were livid by the time your phone rang.

Toto. The name flashed on the screen as you swiped to decline the call. A few minutes later and he rang once more.

By the end of the afternoon you had six missed calls from Toto so after you’d checked where Mercedes had finished (you were relieved to see they had come second in constructors- you weren’t completely heartless after all), you turned your phone off.

You didn’t want to talk to Toto, you didn’t want to see him. He’d lived up to his reputation and you felt like a fool. What was he playing at, flaunting another woman on screen when he knew you’d be watching? You briefly considered sending a message to Cara as you knew she was at the race and would suitably berate Toto for his cruel behaviour, but you decided against it. It was time to take the high road and ignore him. He was probably out celebrating with the mystery woman anyway.

You didn’t sleep that night, restlessly tossing and turning as the mental picture of Toto’s hand on another woman’s waist lingered in your mind. You knew it was incredibly hypocritical considering the circumstances that you’d gotten together but you were floored by the cruelty of which he’d flaunted another woman when he knew you’d be watching. It was sick and twisted and you were upset at yourself for being so stupid.

MONDAY MORNING

Finally having dropped off the sleep, you were rudely awoken by the buzzer of your door. You groaned as you woke up, your eyes puffy from a night spent crying. It was still dark and checking the time on your clock, you saw it was five o’clock in the morning. There were only two people in the world who would have the audacity to wake you at this hour and you groaned once more, not wanting to see either of them.

The intercom buzzed once again, whoever it was growing impatient. Getting out of bed, you padded along to the hallway to answer the door.

“Hello, can I help you?” you said wearily, the annoyance clear in your tone.

“Is everything okay?” came a deep, heavily accented voice over the speaker. Fuck, it was Toto. Although you hadn’t wanted to see George, he was easier to deal with and get rid of.

“You tell me,” you said indignantly, yawning.

“Can I come up?” asked Toto, “I am sorry if I woke you, I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.”

Knowing the man as you did, you knew he was persistent so reluctantly you pushed the key button and answered tetchily, “Sure, come up.”

“Have…” Toto began answering but you cut off the intercom, waiting to see how he’d explain himself face-to-face.

Knowing he was on his way up, you steeled yourself and hurriedly tried to flatten your bed hair in the hallway mirror as you caught sight of yourself looking like a wreck. You were fighting a losing battle but didn’t have time to do more as a knock landed on your door.

Cracking the door open you were surprised to see that Toto was still wearing his work uniform, he must have come straight from Abu Dhabi. He looked equally as shattered as you felt and it somehow comforted you to know that Mr Perfect was not always so. His normally pristine white shirt was rumpled and his hair was nothing short of a complete mess.

“Thank goodness,” he said, pushing the door wider and coming towards you, trying to pull you into an embrace.

“Why?” you said, annoyed at his pretences and turning away from his arms.

Looking hurt at your rejection, his brow furrowed, “I thought something bad had happened. I was trying to call and it kept not working, I couldn’t leave a voicemail. I came straight from the track.” He gestured down at his clothes, “Is everything okay?”

It was your turn to furrow your brow, annoyed that he was not catching on. “No. It’s not. Why would you tell me to watch the race and then do what you did? Rub it in my face.”

“Huh?” he asked, running his hand through his hair as he often did when he was nervous. It was a tick that you’d noticed. “What do you mean? What did I do?”

“Wow.” you said, “The camera panned to you… and your girlfriend.”

“Huh?” he said, still confused. “What girlfriend?”

“The tall blonde you were draping yourself all over. Rub it in my face why don’t you…”

Toto cut you off, “My sister?”

Floored by this, your face dropped. “Your sister?”

“Yes my sister,” said Toto, his expression darkening as he realised what you were accusing him of.

An awkward silence crept in and you were not sure how to respond. In hindsight, you had been quick to jump to conclusions. Perhaps driven by guilt over the way you’d handled things with George, you jumped to think the worst of Toto.

“This is why you ignored my calls?” asked Toto, looking thunderous, “Because you thought my sister was my girlfriend?”

Feeling smaller by the minute you shrunk back towards the wall, “I suppose.” you mumbed, “Look, I’m sorry, I leapt to conclusions.”

“You could say that,” said Toto, folding his arms, “I was worried about you, I thought something bad had happened and all this time you were sitting there thinking the worst of me?" His voice was thick with disbelief. "You didn't think to ask me before shutting me out?". His dark eyes bore into yours and you could feel the weight of your accusation.

You swallowed hard, the realization of your mistake sinking in like a stone. "I’m sorry," you said, "It’s just that… I’ve been burned before and I guess I panicked."

Toto's expression softened, his anger giving way to concern as he stepped closer. "I understand that you're scared, but I’m not George, and I'm certainly not the kind of man who would play games with you. I’m insulted that you would think I would do something like that."

You winced at his words, the guilt gnawing at you. “I just… I didn’t know what to think. It all felt too good to be true."

Toto sighed, reaching out to cup your face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the tension in the air. "I’m not perfect, but I’m not going to lie to you. If I ever make you feel uncomfortable or unsure, I want you to tell me, be direct."

Feeling like a fool, you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "Direct, I can do that," you whispered, your voice cracking, leaning into his touch. “Why did you come back? You should be out celebrating!”

A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "So you did watch the race?" he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin. "Because I care about you, more than you know."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling, "Of course I did, I care more than you know too," you admitted.

Toto's smile grew and he leaned down to capture your lips in a slow, reassuring kiss. The tension between you melted away as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened and when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Toto looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know," he said, his voice low and husky, "there’s a way we could put this little, let’s say, misunderstanding behind us."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might that be?"

He grinned, a wicked smile that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I have some ideas.”

You nodded eagerly, all thoughts of your earlier insecurities forgotten as he swept you off your feet and carried you to the bedroom.

– – –

Later that morning, as you lay tangled in the sheets, your head resting on Toto’s bare chest, he broke the comfortable silence. "You know," he began, his voice a soothing rumble beneath you, "I have been thinking. How would you feel about coming skiing with me next week? I have a chalet and I always invite people at the beginning of the Winter break."

You looked up at him, enchanted by the thought of a snowy getaway. "That sounds amazing," you said, smiling. "But… when you say people, who do you mean?"

Toto hesitated for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Well, normally friends from the team. James, John, some of the other engineers. George also mentioned that he might be free… I thought I’d ask if you would be okay with him joining us."

The mention of George sent a ripple of unease through you, but you quickly pushed it aside. If Toto was willing to include him, it was only fair for you to try to be okay with it too. "I suppose," you said cautiously. "I’ll drop him a text and see how he feels about it. If it’s easier just take him this time."

Toto nodded, "That’s fair."

"I’ll text him now and see what he says," you said, grabbing your phone from the nightstand and typing out a quick message, asking how he felt about the idea. To your surprise, his reply came almost instantly.

Yeah, that's fine. Toto asked me the other day. I'll be bringing someone too, so it should be fun.

You stared at the message, your heart sinking slightly. George bringing someone else was entirely reasonable, but it still stung more than you cared to admit. He’d been busy declaring his love for you just one week ago and now he was bringing someone for a weekend away?

"Is everything okay?" Toto asked, noticing the change in your expression.

You nodded, though the feeling lingered. "Yeah, he said it's fine. He's bringing someone too."

Toto's eyes softened as he sighed, "I know. He already asked me. Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"Yes, just a little surprised after his outburst the other week," you said, still wondering what that had been about if he was already seeing someone new.

“I was too.” said Toto, his brow furrowed, “But I know him, he overthinks, it will be good for him.”

At that, you managed a small smile. "I think it will be good for all of us. It's time to start new chapters, right?"

Toto studied your face for a moment, then nodded, pulling you close again. "Agreed," he said, kissing the top of your head.

FRIDAY MORNING, ONE WEEK LATER

The week leading up to your ski trip had flown by and anxiety lingered at the back of your mind. Trying to take the high road once more, you kept reminding yourself of the progress you'd made. George’s last drunken visit had given you a strange sense of closure and Toto’s less than happy reaction towards your unwarranted accusations had reassured you that he was somewhat of a realist. A few days away should do you all the world of good.

As you found yourself in a sleek black car with Toto on the way to the airport, the scenery blurring by, your thoughts drifted to the upcoming weekend. The air between you and Toto was comfortable, though the unspoken tension of the past week still hovered.

Toto reached over, squeezing your hand as if sensing your unease. "We'll have a great time," he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that made you believe him.

You smiled, squeezing his hand back. "I know we will."

Taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party @noooway555 @annewithaneofthegreengable @xoscar03 @totowolfffcheco @justzluv @kravitzwhore @bborra @a-beaverhausen@amandadesantasworld @formulaal

#toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #toto wolff x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #george russell x reader #George Russell x you #yachtgirlsummer

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retroellie · 10 months ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet w/ Spencer Reid

Summary: NSFW alphabet w/ spenice poo

A/N: Ovbiosuly i have to introduce a new character with an NSFW alphabet... it's become my thing yall I know. Also, i wanted this one to be like spencer in the earlier seasons because I'm a whore for him then.

Warnings: NSFW, BDSM, pegging, loss of virginity, Sub!Spencer Reid

Word count: 3.8K

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Dr Spencer Reid is a sweetheart and we all know this, so obviously he's going to be the sweetest boy after. The first couple of times y'all have sex, he's kind of awkward afterward... like he feels weird about the fact he was just inside of you and now he has to talk to you like nothing happened. Eventually, he warms up to it and gets better at taking care of you. Now he always makes sure he has a soft rag and some water in his nightstand so when you stay over he doesn't have to get up. To be completely honest though, he's the one who needs the aftercare...

B=body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He likes your boobs, like really likes your boobs. He likes them because they're just so versatile, you know? Like he can lay his head on them while you read to him, he can stick his dick in between them, he can suck on them... I mean, what more can this boy need?!?!? Mostly he likes how he can still see them when you guys are in public, maybe not in their entirety but he loves when you wear low-cut shirts. You do it on purpose sometimes, just to see him squirm in his seat while trying to go over statistics on a case. But overall, Spencer just really likes your body. It's just one of those things that Spencer doesn't have to think about or understand, it was just so easy to fall in love with it.

Spencer doesn't really like his body, I feel like he's a very insecure person. He thinks he's too scrawny, too thin, and extremely out of shape. You try to tell him that he's perfect but he can't get over his insecurities. If he did have to choose, it would be his mouth, if he's good for anything... it's for talking and giving mind-blowing head.

C=Cum (anything to do with cum)

Spencer has the worst pull-out game ever, I mean seriously. It's mostly because he just loves cumming with you. The way he'll be deep inside you, literally inside your guts... then he just releases it all into you and watches as your face controls into pure pleasure. He loses all control when you cums, his vision goes white and the only thing he can think of is how pretty you look on his cock.

You had to go on birth control because you couldn't deny Spencer Reid of his favorite thing to do, plus he went on this rant about how birth control is better than condoms because condoms can break blah blah blah. You knew it was simply because he wanted to cum inside you... and it felt way better without a condom.

D=dirty secret

Spencer Reid loves to research things alright... so obviously he has watched massive amounts of porn for research purposes. At first, he tried to tell himself it was for profiling purposes, he needed to know what every kink was so he was able to apply it when needed... well, then it turned into more of his own interest. He wanted to know what he liked, especially when he met you. I mean he's watched almost everything, BDSM, humiliation, sadism, choking, slapping, even pissing. A lot of those things he found he didn't enjoy, but he's honestly found some stuff that makes his face heat up at the thought of it. What's even weirder about this is that Spencer has never jacked off to any of it, to him... it is completely for research.

E=experience (How experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You were his first and he hopes you are his last :). He hasn't even really kissed anyone before you. However, as said above, Spencer has done a lot of research so he definitely knows what he's doing. But porn is completely different than the real thing so he was confused that it didn't go how he expected it to go. What's really nice about Spencer is that he has an eidetic memory, so if something makes your toes curl once... he can do it over and over and over again the exact same way which honestly makes him seem so much more experienced than he actually is.

F=Favorite position

He loves it when you ride him. Not only does he get the perfect view of your boobs and your face, but he loves letting you take control. I feel like Spencer is a bottom so he enjoys the feeling of you towering over him, taking everything you need, and controlling if he gets to cum or not.

He also loves taking you from the back but not in the way you would think. He likes being able to lean against something and you do all the work, like you thrust yourself back on him. He likes that so when you get too tried or frustrated, he can help you fuck yourself on him. Also, I feel like Spencer would like to be experimental with positions, especially since he knows almost all of them from his extensive research. So he tries to switch it up and try new positions every once in a while.

G= Goofy (Are they serious at the moment or are they humorous?)

Everything spencer does is goofy as fuck, so sex is not a serious thing for yall. You can't do anything without spencer shooting out some statistics which makes you laugh, cause his dick could be down your throat and he'd talk about how "43% percent of women say they like giving oral more than receiving it." Sometimes you have to show his face between your own legs to get him to shut up. In short, spencer has to be serious all day at the BAU, so coming home and having to seriously fuck you is just not something he wants to do. He's gonna have some fun with it.

H= Hair (How groomed are they down there?)

Spencer is a bit of a germaphobe, he doesn't like to shake people's hands for god sake. He is definitely either clean-shaven or very well-groomed. He makes sure to clean his junk thoroughly, again with the whole bacteria and germ blah blah... You get it, he just feels more clean if he's groomed well down there.

As for you, I feel like he's gonna care if you're shaved down there or not. I mean he's obviously still going to eat your pussy even if you haven't shaved, but he does prefer you to be groomed down there. Again it's a germaphobe thing for him, but like I said... it's not the thing that determines if he'll fuck you or not.

I=Intimacy

This boy is touch starved as fuck. He usually doesn't like touch, he's scared of it if I'm being honest. So when you came along and touched him in every way possible... he craves it now. He wants to be close to you at all times when he's reading, on a case, or showering. He wants to be touching you in some way. Sex is intimate as well, especially since you were his first time. Losing his virginity was a huge thing for him, so the intimate part was important to him.

He loves the cringey romance things, I mean like buying you flowers or going on expensive dinners every anniversary or birthday. He only ever got his romance beliefs from old romance books and cheesy romance movies. He sure did know how to make you feel like a princess.

J= Jack off (Masturbation headcanons)

Spencer never really masturbated much before he met you, he never really felt that way either. Like being horny was something that he never felt, never got hard, or had a wet dream. Even while doing his research, he never popped a boner... not even once! That was until he met you, now a bus could go by and he is stiff. He can only jack off to the thought of you though, he only needs his mind and his hand to get him off when you aren't there.

I also think he likes to watch you masturbate, he's a little creep like that. Obviously, you'd know he was there, but he likes for you to pretend he's not there. He loves watching you tease yourself, moaning his name while he sits in a chair in the corner of the room. It gives him a small power rush, knowing he's getting you off without even touching you.

K= Kinks

Alright, he has quite a bit... he's a little dirty dog once you get him going. He definitely has a mommy kink definitely, I mean he has mommy issues so it is inevitable for the word mommy to slip out during sex. He says shit like "You make me feel so good mommy..." or "Can I cum mommy?" In his most pathetic voice as he whimpers so loud.

He's a kinky little fucker, to name a few...Prasing, bondage, role-playing, orgasm control, Voyeurism, humiliation. The list goes on and on. He was so embarrassed to bring them up to you starting off, he felt wrong for liking these things. You basically had to fuck it out of him but when he did, he felt so comfortable with you. Sex gets rough and a bit chaotic, but it was for you guys and you guys only so it didn't really matter. As long as you two were both comfortable and enjoying it, it didn't really matter.

L= Location (favorite place to do it)

This is where Spencer Reid lacks alright. He likes to be in his own bed when doing it, I mean he can't really afford to be too adventurous in this area. He's an FBI agent... he can't get caught doing it anywhere else. That's not to say y'all haven't done it in other places, the hotels he stays at on cases have been a regular thing for you guys, but he just doesn't feel safe doing it anywhere else but his own home.

M= Motivation (What turns them on?)

Like I said earlier, he never really got turned on before you. He always thought there was something wrong with him when it came to sex, but girl... you opened a floodgate to him. What turns him on the most is when he thinks of you. Especially if he sees something, let's say he sees a desk... he can't help but imagine bending you over it. It's just you, when you creep up on his mind randomly... he turns into putty.

He also gets so flustered and turned up to the max when you humiliate him in public, like teasing him in front of the team. He gets so sexually frustrated, hearing you joke about him in front of Morgan or teasing him with Garcia about how smart he is... especially calling him "pretty boy"... just gets him going.

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do/ turn offs)

As an agent of the BAU, constantly around murder and gore and pure violence... Spencer is really picky about violence in the bedroom. He wants sex to be light and fun, not dark. He doesn't mind degrading or hitting... but he wants to keep it at a minimum. I mean he sees it all day, every day. So he'd just rather keep it upbeat in the bedroom, he'd much rather praise you than anything else.

That is a gray area for him, however there is something that he will never do. He hates bodily fluids, so spit and blood... etc. is just off the table for him. Not only is he around it all day, but he doesn't like the germs and bacteria it comes with.

O= Oral (Giving or receiving, skill etc.)

This man could go down on you for hours, I mean... hours. Like I feel like this man jumps up and down when you let him eat you out. This man will attempt to tease you but he gets so eager when he eats your pussy, so he always ends up letting you cum the second your orgasm comes. His favorite after-work activity is to come to the hotel or your shared apartment, pull your panties down, and eat you out like a hungry man. Not to get all psychological (I'm telling y'all I have been watching too much criminal minds lately) but I feel like it's definitely a control thing. I mean his entire life has been out of his control, his entire career is about fighting for control... so the only time he feels somewhat in control is when he goes down on you.

Spencer Reid obviously enjoys receiving as well, I mean what man doesn't like getting some head? He finds you so pretty on your knees, trying desperately to get him off which doesn't take too long for him when you're like this. Spencer just prefers giving simply because he wants to make you feel good, I mean he so desperately wants to make you feel good. Plus he's really good at it, I mean really good...

P= pace (are they fast or rough? slow or sensual?)

As said before, Spencer is eager. He is extremely fast with it, I mean to the point you have to tell him to slow down sometimes because he's going crazy. "Slow down Spence.." You moan into the pillows as your face down, ass up. "Sorry... it... you... fuck... you just feel so good" He stutters out, probably the only time spencer reid gets twisted up with his words is when he fucks you. You would have to be the one to go slow with it, you want him to feel the love in the act. You want him to understand sex doesn't have to be a scientific act, it isn't just for procreation or for the orgasm... it can be an act of love.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies)

He probably loves them more than eating you out, actually.. I wouldn't go that far. It's a close second to it. He's a busy man, always on a case or trying to finish a book. They are especially good when y'all are traveling for cases like y'all only have 8 minutes before you have to get back to work... he can make you both cum 3 times in 4. He loves long drawn-out ones too, he likes making you feel good for hours but they are rare occurrences simply because he's always getting called into the office. So honestly quickies are how y'all survive.

R= Risk (Are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

He loves experimenting! Like I said before, he has done his research and he probably made a list of things he would like to try with you. He had to get comfortable first to be able to experiment, it was a long process of breaking Dr. Spencer Reid out of his shell. But now it feels like you guys are always trying new things, I mean like every time you guys have sex... Spencer asks if he can do something new to you.

As for risks, he is not for risks. If it genuinely is risky, causing harm to either one of you or something that will cause Morgan to tease him every day for?? It's off the table like I said before... His entire job is about risks, he just wants your guy's sex life to be healthy and normal.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Spencer can go all night. Let's be honest, it's how he stays fit. Like I said, Spencer gets horny quickly so after every orgasm he has... he's already hard again. I feel like the most rounds y'all have gone is like 8 or 9, it was all in the course of 3 hours too. Again it's a rare occurrence for you guys to have long drawn-out sessions, it mostly happens when spencer has the day off or after a case and y'all spend the day in the city the case was in. When days like this do come, spencer goes crazy and full-on out. He'll light the candles, he'll have a tub of lube, he'll have bottles of water for you guys because he knows y'all will need lots of water after.

I feel like Spencer doesn't last very long, maybe 5 minutes but like I said... he gets hard really fast and he'll edge himself over and over again just so he can make you feel good. I feel like you also help him build up his tolerance, so he slowly starts to last longer and longer. When y'all first started having sex, he couldn't last over 2 minutes... let's be honest now y'all.

T= Toys (do they have toys and who do they use them on?)

ooooh, this is a fun one because spencer reid loves experimenting, so toys are definitely something he likes. He's really into vibrators, especially when you let him watch you masturbate... he just loves watching you tease yourself with it. However, when you use vibrators on him... makes him weak in the knees, for obvious reasons but also because of the sensation of the vibrating and then your hands or pussy?!? He can't help but cum every single time without fail.

Alright y'all I know, spencer reid likes to be pegged. He went completely feral when you bought it for the first time, he begged you to destroy him with the strap. He is a bottom, he likes to be dominated... It goes without saying that he likes to be pegged. You do this thing though, where you're taking him from the back and you use a vibrator to hold his cock. You have him screaming with that move you do.

As for other toys, I feel like he has a pair of handcuffs or bondage toys laying around.

U= Unfair (how much do they tease?)

He doesn't do much teasing but you do, you tease him so much that he is begging to be fucked by the time you guys are alone. He's used to being teased by literally everyone in his life, but something about your teasing... no matter if sexual or not, never fails to make him all flustered.

His teasing isn't really teasing, to him it is but every time he tries teasing you, you end up getting so confused. He'd be like, "You look good in that shirt, it would look way better off though... You know statistically, women in shirts...". Just a very Reid thing to do. You always feed on his teasing though, you want to make him feel good about himself so you just smile and nod.

V= Volume (How loud are they?)

This mf is loud as fuck. Sometimes you have to push his face into the pillows or make him bite down on your panties because he's just so loud. He doesn't moan either, he whimpers and whines. There's a time when you love making him whimper, you encourage it actually. You love seeing his red, flustered face as he whines for you to let him cum. Then there are times, like in hotels, that you have to keep him quiet. Unfortunately, Spencer Reid doesn't do quiet. You shoving your wet panties in his mouth is a regular thing in those times, he can't complain because he loves the taste.

He is also very vocal, he loves praising and being praised. He will whimper out "Fuck... make me feel good.." or "wanna cum in you.." You always cave into his wants, I mean his little whimpers are so cute how can you not?

W- Wild card (Random headcanons)

We all know that spencer reid loves books and statistics, so he will definitely multitask when fucking you. He loves when he's at his desk at home and you come in, wearing nothing but one of his sweaters. You'll crawl down on your knees and suck him off under the desk. You force him to do work as you make him cum, over and over and over. He also likes it when you cockwarm him, asking him questions about the case and if he messes up or stutters... you snap your hips down and make him whine. One time, when you were riding him in his office chair... he was reading a book, like an old literature book. "Are you reading right now?" You asked him, confused because like what? and he replied. "yeah... it's okay, you can keep going. I'll be done in a minute." He smiled so innocently, you wanted to fuck him harder after that.

Also, he uses his statistics to make you feel good, he read in a college textbook about female anatomy that girls like their nipples played with during sex so he tried it on you. You had no idea you liked that until Spencer Reid started pinching them. He'll also tell you the statistics while doing it, which I think is kinda funny. "Statistically, 76% of women have never stimulated they're g-spot," He says as he thrusts up, hitting yours perfectly.

X= X-ray (What’s going on in their pants)

Spencer Reid is a very scrawny and skinny man, so I know he is packing. He's probably a little over average, not too much but enough to make you nervous if you'll be able to take it all. He has a very pretty dick too, very well-groomed and very clean. He doesn't have much girth too, but honestly, size doesn't matter.

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

Very high sex drive, that's why quickies are so important to him. He didn't really understand Morgan's obsession with women at first until he actually had sex... now he always wants to be inside of you. He begs a lot too, if he's horny... all he will do is beg and plead for you to touch him. "Spencer we just got here, settle down." You scold him as he tries to get you to the private bathroom. "Please y/n... you look so pretty in your dress and... it's making my stomach hurt." Eventually, spencers whining gets you all hot and heavy, and you end up fucking him in the bathroom.

Z= ZZZ (How quick do they fall asleep after?)

Spencer passes out after his balls are empty and he is worn out from everything. Like I guess anyone would be exhausted after 7 to 9 rounds of desperately trying to get off. Not only but he has a very mentally and physically exhausting job, so he's out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #matthew gray gubler

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hyuckiefluff · 1 year ago

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tease | lee haechan

pairing: lee haechan x f!reader genre: enemies-ish to lovers, college au word count: 5.8k+ summary: Playing spin the bottle definitely wasn't what you had envisioned for your first college party. And the last person you expected to see was Lee Haechan. But life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you, and this time it came in the form of the bottle landing on some drunk dude who dared you to kiss Haechan. warnings: oral (m receiving), fngering, cursing, drinking, hc calls reader princess a/n: rushed this one a bit to post it on time for haechan’s bday :D i hope you enjoy! and happy birthday my haechan ilysm baby! - i recommend listening to sweat by zayn while reading

m.list

"New girl… what was your name... oh right.. Y/N” the guy's words stumbled out of his mouth, clearly too many drinks deep into the night. He was trying so hard to formulate a single coherent thought, but his speech was all over the place. And there you sat, legs crossed, waiting for whatever command he was about to throw at you.

"You should, ehm... uh… oh I know… you should kiss the person in front of you," he slurred, barely able to keep his eyes open.

You tensed up when the words left his mouth. You expected having to kiss someone in this game but you weren’t all that excited or open to the idea. Sure, you could've just taken a shot and avoided the whole ordeal, but you had already declined way too many requests and had knocked back enough shots for the night. Plus, your friend had disappeared into the crowd a while ago, leaving you to fend for yourself. You didn't want to push your drinking limit any further.

But honestly, the mere thought of kissing anyone at that moment felt too awkward. You didn't know a single person in this circle, and the boys surrounding you seemed ready to pounce at the opportunity. The uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach grew stronger. And just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, someone sauntered into the circle, nudging the guy who had been in front of you aside, without a single word of protest. It was as if the universe itself conspired to make the situation even more complicated because there he was, in all his glory, Lee Haechan.

Let me give you a short backstory. Haechan was one of your brother's closest friends, and you practically grew up with him. Well, maybe "in his shadow" is a more accurate description. His larger-than-life personality always overshadowed your shy self whenever you were in the same room. And there was also the teasing. Haechan took great pleasure in getting under your skin. While most of your brother's friends ignored you, Haechan found it amusing to embarrass you at every opportunity. He'd mock your fashion choices and poke fun at your taste in music. Basically, anything he could find that was worthy of a good tease, he'd go for it. Sure, you'll admit that you were a bit of an awkward kid back then, spending most of your time holed up in your room, jamming out to some obscure indie band, and wearing some questionable outfits (you can totally blame your mom for that until you turned 13).

Anyway, let's just say Lee Haechan wasn't exactly the friendliest face in your memory bank.

It’s been two whole years since you last laid eyes on him, and you honestly thought you'd never have to see him again. Your big brother mentioned that Haechan went off to "some college" out of town, so you assumed your paths would never cross. But your brother also conveniently forgot to mention the crucial detail that Haechan had actually managed to get into your top-choice university. Yes, the very same one you had been raving about since the idea of higher education even entered your mind. Thank you for the heads up, big bro.

Now you were sitting here, about to lose your mind because the first time you’re meeting Haechan after all this time, you're being dared to kiss him...in front of all these people too. There was no way you could do this. Your hesitance was impossible to hide, and everyone seemed to notice. But Haechan, being Haechan, couldn't resist making a comment about it. Of course.

“She won’t do it.” He said, taking a casual sip from his drink.

Though he pretty much spoke your thoughts out loud, you still paused and looked at him raising an eyebrow. You would've shrugged it off, but there was no way you were going to let Haechan continue teasing you like that in college. You were too grown and fed up to allow him to treat you that way.

“And why won’t she?” You asked, crossing your arms.

He chuckled “Because she doesn’t have it in her.” He said the words slowly to taunt you.

Maybe it was the fact that he was talking as if you weren’t in the room, or that he seemed so sure that you were too much of a coward to kiss him but before you could stop yourself you started crawling up to him. The circle of people around you suddenly more interested in your every move. Now you were kneeling in between Haechan’s sprawled legs, so close to his face that you could smell the mix of alcohol with his cologne. He put down his drink, the look of bore left his eyes and he perked up a little at your sudden closeness. Without giving yourself time to cower away you closed the distance between your lips. You didn’t miss the slight flinch of surprise he gave when your lips touched, he really wasn’t expecting you to go through with it.

Haechan would sooner be caught dead than admit it but he really enjoyed getting a rise out of you. It gave him this weird rush whenever he saw you getting all flustered or even a little pissed off. Sure, you were usually the shy and soft-spoken type, but deep down, there was a side to you that had some fight in it. It wasn't something you showed to just anyone, but he had managed to bring it out of you on more than one occasion.

He never in a million years expected seeing you at this party. It had been a while since he even thought about you. So, when he spotted you in the crowd, he was completely caught off guard. He watched you intently all night, trying to figure out if it was actually you. It hadn't been that long since he last saw you, but there was something distinctly different about you. You were engaged in lively conversations, your laughter floating through the air. It was a stark contrast to the image he had of you in his head.

He only remembers how reserved you were, back then you weren't able to have a full conversation with him or even hold eye contact. So, when he ended up sitting in front of you, teasing you like he always did, he never expected you to do anything more than maybe give him some attitude and walk away. But man, did you flip the script on him.

Before Haechan could even process what was happening, there you were, on your knees in front of him. His attention instinctively went to your tongue darting across your lips, that simple action getting him way too excited. Before he had a chance to react, your lips were already on his. The kiss started off slow, like a cautious test drive. Haechan could tell you weren't exactly planning to go this far, he could sense that hint of hesitance in your every move.

This wasn't the kind of kiss he usually went for. He liked them rough, the kind that leaves you breathless. But, there was something about you taking charge that had him intrigued. Even though it was a simple kiss with no crazy fireworks, it managed to get both your hearts racing.

Your hands went to his chin to keep him in place while your lips fumbled in a slow rhythm that had Haechan going kinda crazy inside. He had to fight hard to keep his cool, resisting the urge to grab you and kiss you back as hard as he wanted to. His hands stayed glued to the floor. He was scared that if he touched you, he wouldn't be able to stop himself, and also because his palms were suddenly a sweaty mess and he doubted you’d like that.

You tilted his head back a bit causing his mouth to slack open. With this new access, your tongue shyly ventured into his mouth, as if following an instinctive cue. Haechan also took a chance and nibbled on your lower lip, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. The sound made his whole body tense up. Your hands roamed from his chin to the back of his head, testing the waters by gently tugging on his hair. That's when an involuntary grunt slipped out of Haechan's mouth, snapping you both back to reality.

As you pulled away, his eyes slowly fluttered open. Yours immediately darted to his slightly swollen lips, tinged with the color of your lipstick. Acting on some unknown impulse, you brushed your thumb against his lips wiping off the lipstick. He glanced at your finger and then met your gaze again, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You said nothing and wiped the remnants of lipstick from your finger onto his clean white undershirt, all while maintaining unwavering eye contact.

You stood up, trying not to make it too obvious that your legs were weaker than before. Seeing the slightly shocked and amused faces of everyone around you would’ve scared younger you into running away but you didn’t feel intimidated at all.

"I'm gonna grab a new drink," you announced, giving Haechan one final glance before making your way out.

Of course, you didn't actually head to the drinks table like you said you would. Instead, you dashed straight for the bathroom, your heart racing like a herd of wild horses. Closing the door behind you and allowing yourself a moment to process everything that just happened and pretty much freak out.

"Have you lost your damn mind, Y/N?" you scolded your reflection in the mirror, the harsh reality staring right back at you. Disheveled hair, smudged lipstick, and that dazed look in your eyes, mirroring the same one that Haechan had after the kiss. Letting out a heavy sigh, you rested your hands on the edge of the sink, reluctantly admitting to yourself that the kiss wasn't half bad. Who would've thought? Haechan, your tormentor, sure knew how to kiss. His lips felt downright amazing against yours, and the taste… a mix of alcohol with a subtle sweetness that lingered on your lips, intoxicating your thoughts as you unconsciously replayed the moment over and over in your mind.

But before you could fully immerse yourself, the bathroom door swung open with a force, causing you to yelp in surprise. In your mortification, you had completely forgotten to lock the damn door. Oh, how you wished you had because to your horror, the intruder turned out to be none other than Haechan himself. His surprise at finding you in the bathroom was evident, though you couldn't help but wonder if he had followed you all the way here.

"You could've found a better hiding spot, you know," he jeered, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror's reflection.

"I wasn't hiding, Haechan. Can't a girl have some privacy in the bathroom?" you fired back.

"Sorry, it's just that you looked a little frustrated when you left, princess," he taunted, his words dripping with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Quit calling me that" you shot back, irritation lacing your voice.

Haechan merely shrugged, his teasing smile still intact. "You're right. A princess doesn't run away like that after a kiss," he continued to taunt, enjoying the effect his words had on you.

"I didn't run away," you retorted, trying to maintain your composure. "But I don't need to explain myself to you anyway, so get out, Donghyuck," you said, turning around to face him with a glare.

His teasing demeanor faltered for a moment, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face at the use of his actual name. "Wow, it's been a while since anyone called me that. I like the way you say it," he admitted, attempting to lighten the mood. However, seeing your unamused expression, he raised his hands in surrender. "Come on, the kiss wasn't even that bad. You don't have to be embarrassed. Though it was so short, I couldn't really judge it properly."

"Pity, because you're never gonna get another chance," you replied, determination seeping into your voice as you turned your back to him.

Haechan studied you silently, his gaze fixed on your figure. There was a brief pause, a moment where the air between you seemed to thicken with anticipation. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his proximity making you grip the edges of the sink tighter. He position his hands next to yours, his larger frame enveloping yours. Through the reflection in the mirror, his eyes locked onto yours.

With a hushed voice, he leaned in close to your ear, his warm breath grazing your skin as he whispered, "We'll see about that."

The weight of his words hung in the air as he held your gaze for a moment longer. Then, with one final look, he pulled away, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

A few days went by until you saw Haechan again at another party. It was insane how quickly you were getting invited to these things. Your social life went from zero to a hundred really quick. Things were finally looking up, and you were having a blast, making more friends along the way.

But of course, there he was—Haechan, lurking in the shadows like some lingering ghost. It felt like he was always in your peripheral vision, pretending he wasn't staring at you. Seriously, why couldn't he just go away? You made up your mind that finding someone else to hang out with would be the perfect way to shake off his annoying presence. Preferably someone who didn't get a kick out of teasing you mercilessly.

Just when you were mulling over your thoughts, a smooth voice broke through the noise from behind you. "Hey there, what's a beautiful girl like you doing all alone?"

You turned to face him and recognized him was one of the players from the spin the bottle game

"Actually, I'm looking for my friend. She vanished into thin air, it seems," you replied, trying not to sound too awkward. Small talk was never your strong suit, especially with extremely attractive guys.

He nodded, laughing softly, "Well, I can help you find her, but only if you dance with me."

You considered it for a moment, thinking it might be exactly the distraction you needed. "Sure, why not? Lead the way," you said, setting your drink aside and taking his hand as he guided you to the center of the room where people were dancing.

"I'm Jeno, by the way," he introduced himself, leaning in closer to your ear so you could hear him over the music.

You shouted back, "Nice to meet you, Jeno. I'm Y/N." He responded with an adorable eye smile, and you couldn't help but smile back.

In those few fleeting minutes with Jeno, you were already smitten. He was far more polite and considerate than the typical guys you had encountered in college so far. At first, there was definitely an air of slight intimidation surrounding him, probably because of his tall muscular frame and silver blonde hair, but as you danced together, he showed his soft and kind nature. His hands rested firmly on your hips, providing just the right amount of contact without encroaching on your personal space. As you felt more comfortable in his arms, you entwined your hands behind his neck, and only then he pulled you closer. The swift movement caused a gentle collision against his solid chest, confirming what you had suspected earlier—Jeno was no stranger to the gym. His white shirt was clinging to him in all the right places and you had to force yourself to look away before he caught you staring.

As the music played and your bodies moved against each other, Jeno leaned close to your ear once again. "You know... during the spin the bottle game, I was annoyed," he confessed.

Confused, you raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"Because I was supposed to get that kiss from you, before that guy came and took my chance," he explained, his expression adorably pouting to emphasize his disappointment.

Smiling at his confession, you couldn't help but tease him playfully. "Well, what if I told you I would've rather kissed you?"

His eyes lit up with delight, and you realized that he reminded you of a puppy. Jeno took your words as an invitation and slowly closed the gap between your faces, his lips barely grazing yours. But before the moment could fully unfold, the music abruptly stopped, and a crashing sound cut through the crowd. Turning your gaze over Jeno's shoulder, you saw chaos near the table where the sound system had been set up.

The whole display had been knocked over, and the DJ was engaged in a heated argument with another person. The other guy had his back to you, but you recognized that posture and when he turned his head to the side you confirmed who it was. Lee Haechan, his face contorted in anger as he flipped off the other guy who just kept yelling at him. His scorn only intensified when his eyes locked with yours, taking in the sight of you entangled with Jeno.

"What's going on over there?" you muttered to yourself, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene.

"Just some drunk jerk making a mess," Jeno replied, glancing back at you.

You wished you could have resumed where you left off with him, but the interruption had shattered the moment. Not to mention, Haechan's piercing gaze lingered in your mind making you feel somewhat uneasy.

"Uh... I'm kind of thirsty. I should get a drink," you said, trying to find an excuse to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.

"I'll get it for you," Jeno offered, flashing a quick smile before heading off to fetch the drink. As he disappeared into the crowd, you ran your fingers through your hair, feeling the heat rising within you. The intensity of the almost-kiss and Haechan's intense stare made it hard to catch your breath. You needed a moment alone, away from the suffocating crowd.

You made your way to the bathroom upstairs, your go-to escape room. However, as you reached the door, you discovered it was locked, and the lewd sounds coming from inside let you know it wouldn’t be available for a while. Frustrated, you let out a sigh and glanced around, hoping to find another bathroom. Knocking on each door along the hallway, you realized that most of them were locked too, leaving little doubt as to what was happening inside.

Just as you were about to give up, the door at the end of the hallway swung open when you tried it, and you immediately slipped into the room discreetly. Closing the door behind you, you breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for this temporary escape. You stepped into the bathroom and splashed water on your face and neck, trying to cool yourself down. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel frustrated with yourself for allowing Haechan to disrupt your thoughts once again. You hadn't even exchanged a single word with him tonight, yet he managed to occupy your mind so intensely. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and with a shake of your head, you resolved to leave the bathroom and rejoin Jeno, who was probably wondering where you had run off to.

But to your surprise and horror, someone stood on the balcony. You hadn't even realized the room had a balcony when you entered. The figure seemed unaware of your presence. So you attempted to make a silent exit, and almost succeeded until you accidentally tripped over a trash can. Wow, you really needed to pay better attention to your surroundings.

"Y/N?" a familiar voice called out, the one that had been haunting your thoughts just moments ago. Frozen in place, you debated whether to make a run for it. Surely he wouldn't stop you, right? He wouldn't chase after you... would he?

"Haechan..." you sighed, your tone conveying your frustration at seeing him.

"Are you stalking me or something?," he asked, his teasing tone cutting through the tense air. You rolled your eyes at the absurd suggestion.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking that? It seems like you're always popping up wherever I go… first the game, then the bathroom, and now here," you retorted, counting off the instances on your fingers. "What are you even doing here?" You gestured around the room, emphasizing your point.

"I could ask you the same thing. Weren't you just getting cozy with that Kendoll downstairs?" he asked, hands nonchalantly tucked into his pockets as he gradually closed the distance between you. Now, up close, you could see him clearly. He wore a black graphic t-shirt with the words 'they come, they go,' and his jeans were ripped on the thighs. His hair was also somewhat styled. It was clear that he had put some effort into his appearance, unlike his usual messy style.

"You didn't answer my question," you persisted, fighting off the nerves that his proximity was starting to stir.

"Well, this happens to be my birthday party," he revealed, a hint of satisfaction in his voice at seeing the slight shock in your face.

"Oh… uhm… happy birthday," you awkwardly mumbled. His closeness now forced you to tilt your head upward, despite the height advantage your heels provided.

"Anyway, why did you make a scene at your own birthday party?" you asked, trying to kill the awkward silence and stepping away slightly to regain some personal space.

You made your way to the balcony, craving the fresh air as a relief from the intensity of the room.

"I guess you could say I wasn't vibing with the atmosphere, the music, the people... especially the people," he replied, his words hinting at something that you couldn't quite grasp.

"Hm, well, I was actually having a good time for once," you replied, leaning against the balcony rail. He mirrored your posture, but instead of gazing out at the street ahead, he fixed his gaze on you.

"Yeah, I could see that. So, who's your new boy-jock-friend?" he asked, his words dripping with sarcasm and… jealousy? You turned your head to the side, squinting incredulously at the ridiculous nickname he had given Jeno.

"His name is Jeno, and he's actually a really nice guy," you clarified.

"Is that so?," he hummed, his expression pensive. His lack of a proper response prompted you to look at him again, only to find him struggling to suppress a stupid grin.

"What, Haechan?" you demanded, growing tired of his antics.

"Nothing, just...I was wondering if you even like guys like that," he asked, shrugging.

"Why does it matter to you?" you shot back, your voice tinged with annoyance.

"It doesn't," he replied nonchalantly, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor as he closed the distance between you. The intensity in his gaze mirrored the way he had looked at you after your first kiss. "But I know you don't like him." He whispered that into your ear, now standing directly behind you.

Caught off guard by his statement, you instinctively turned around to face him. Bad idea.

"You're wrong," you managed to reply, though the pitch change in your voice betrayed your nervousness. His amusement grew as he leaned against the balcony rail, his hands positioned on either side of you.

"Then answer this..." he began, his hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your chin, tilting it ever so slightly, "Why are you here with me instead of with him?"

You were at a loss for words. He was right. You should have been downstairs with Jeno, dancing some more, perhaps even kissing him. Yet, there you stood with this fool, your gaze inexplicably drawn to his lips and the way they moved, and how he unconsciously wet them every few seconds.

"Nothing to say?" he teased, his nose grazing against yours, and you couldn't help but close your eyes, knowing deep down that you were about to do something completely crazy. "I think we-"

"Shut up," you blurted out, unable to hold back any longer, and you closed the gap between your lips in a frenzy. The kiss was anything but slow this time; it was a messy collision of longing and pent-up tension that had been brewing for days. All the warning signs you put for yourself to stay away from Lee Haechan felt irrelevant now.

Your hands found their way into Haechan's hair, pulling on the strands as you tried to make him groan just like before. But this time, he surprised you by firmly gripping your thighs and seating you on the balcony rail. The cool metal against your bare skin made you shiver, but the sensation was quickly overridden by the warmth of Haechan's touch. The kiss grew more intense, a mess of lips and tongues, bites, sucks, and a chorus of eager sounds that escaped from both of you. The world around you faded away as you focused solely on how good his hands and lips felt.

"Please," you moaned against his lips, and he wasted no time. In a flash, he lifted you, carrying you effortlessly to the bed. The kiss never faltered as he positioned himself above you, his hands hungrily exploring your body. Your skirt was hiked up, and he suddenly grabbed your ass making you gasp. Clothes were becoming a nuisance, and Haechan noticed your impatience as you fumbled with his shirt. He couldn't help but chuckle at your eagerness, but he helped anyways, discarding the shirt and revealing a canvas of smooth skin that begged to be touched.

You traced the contours of his torso with your fingers, savoring the sight of every mole and line etched across his skin. Your ogling was momentarily interrupted when Haechan tried to remove your tangled shirt, provoking a dramatic sigh from you when he finally pulled it off your head. He laughed at this and your lips met once more in a short, sweet kiss before his attention shifted to removing your skirt.

Lying before him in nothing but your underwear, you watched as he straightened up, his gaze locked on your exposed form. You felt self-conscious but the way he was looking at you with darkened, adoring eyes, let you know that there was nothing to be shy about.

You flung your bra aside after unhooking it, meeting Haechan's hungry gaze as he took in your now exposed chest. You grabbed his hand inviting him to touch you. His hand glided from your belly to your breasts, exploring your curves slowly. He leaned and latched his mouth on your right breast, playing, nibbling, and sucking. He wanted to hear every moan and whimper coming from your lips. Each sound you made spurred him on, his body instinctively grinding against yours, his growing hardness pressing against you with every movement. You knew he was growing desperate with every sloppy thrust and lick of his tongue.

You hooked your finger through the chain around Haechan's neck and pulled him up so he was face to face with you "I want to try something," you whispered, planting a quick kiss on his lips. Gently pushing him by the shoulder, he willingly allowed himself to fall onto his back, his eyes fixed on you, filled with anticipation.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a playful tone lacing his breathless voice as you slowly crawled down his body, stopping in front of his crotch.

"What do you think?" you teased, unzipping his pants and sliding them down. His black boxers clung tightly to his arousal, already dampened with pre-cum. Biting your lip, you could already imagine his thickness just by the sight of it over his underwear. Looking up at Haechan, you noticed he had his hands behind his head to get a better view of your actions.

Without hesitation, you pulled down his boxers, causing his erection to spring up in an almost comical manner. There was no time to waste, you could tell that he might explode if you delayed any further. Grasping him firmly at the base, you used the slickness of his pre-cum as lub, pumping him a few times. Haechan bit his lips to contain his desperate moans, he didn’t want it to be so obvious that your simple touch on his dick almost made him cum.

But you had other plans. You wanted to hear him. You wanted to make him moan, whimper, and maybe even cry out in pleasure. Propping yourself up, you leaned in and without warning, kitten-licked his sensitive tip. Haechan's head flew back, as a string of curses left his mouth. Delighted by his fucked up state, you repeated the motion several more times before finally taking him fully into your mouth. Slowly, you went deeper, until he hit the back of your throat. Inevitably, a groan escaped him, his self-restraint crumbling as you began to suck him off properly. He moaned, thrusting his hips into your mouth, his grip on your hair becoming desperate to ensure you wouldn't stop. Seeing him in such a vulnerable and desperate state was a sight you never thought you'd witness - Lee Haechan squirming beneath you, completely undone by your actions.

"Oh, f-...uck... that feels so good," Haechan groaned, his voice strained as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder. He was thrusting against your face without even realizing it. You didn't blame him; he was so consumed by pleasure that he couldn't control himself. You reached down and gently played with his balls, wanting to see his reaction. The way his eyes rolled back, and his hips momentarily faltered, told you that another touch like that would send him over the edge. With a quick glance at you bobbing your head up and down his cock, Haechan decided he had reached his limit. He grabbed you by the cheeks, pulling your mouth away from his dick. The lewd sight of your saliva connecting you both in a string made him wish he could capture the moment in a picture to enjoy later.

"I need to fuck you right now," Haechan explained when you looked at him with confusion. With those words, he got off the bed and rummaged through one of the night tables, searching for a condom. As he pulled out the small wrapper, you couldn't help but ask, "How did you know that was there?"

"Because this is my room," he said casually, the revelation catching you off guard. Though, it made sense that this was his dorm, given that it was his birthday party.

He swiftly opened the condom wrapper and rolled it onto his cock. Without wasting any time, he climbed back onto the bed and slowly removed your panties, tutting at the sight of how wet you were. "Look at you," he said with a smile, allowing his fingers to explore your slick folds. The way your mouth opened and your eyes screwed shut in response showed just how bad you were needing to be touched there. As one of his fingers slowly entered you, he leaned in and kissed you, his tongue drowning out the moans that escaped your lips. Sensing your growing desperation, he added an extra finger, expertly pleasuring you. "H... Haechan," you moaned into his lips, and he hummed in response, continuing to finger you with more urgency.

"Please... more," you managed to gasp out.

"As you wish, princess," he whispered, removing his fingers from you and licking your essence off them. He positioned himself on top of you, aligning his cock with your entrance. Teasingly, he pressed it against you without fully entering. "Haechan..." you said, your tone suddenly serious, using his dangling chain to pull him closer. "If you don't stop teasing me, I swear I'm going downstairs to find Jeno."

He let out a bitter laugh, but the mention of Jeno noticeably changed his demeanor. Before you could say anything else, he plunged inside you. The immediate clenching of your walls around him caused both of you to moan loudly. Haechan gripped your hips and adjusted your position with surprising care. After a few more seconds, you grabbed his hips and pushed him slightly, indicating that you wanted him to go deeper. Without wasting any more time, he obliged, burying his cock further inside you. "Fuck," he groaned, the sensation of him stretching you feeling too incredible for words.

He began to move, his thrusts gradually gaining speed until he was practically ramming into you. The sight of his pretty face, screwed up with swollen lips from all the kissing and biting, dilated pupils, and droplets of sweat on his forehead, drove you wild.

Effortlessly, he grabbed your leg and propped it on his shoulder, allowing him to penetrate deeper, hitting a new spot that had your mouth foaming. He continued thrusting hard and fast, relishing in the way your breasts bounced with each powerful stroke.

Your whimpering only made him want to see you come undone even more. He leaned in and kissed you softly, the tenderness contrasting with his hard thrusts. You melted into the kiss, moans mixing between you both. He even slowed down his thrusts, lost in the kiss for a moment. But then he unexpectedly started ramming into you again, thrusting harder and pushing you closer to the edge.

"Cum all over my cock, princess," he commanded, his voice hoarse with pleasure. With a few more hard thrusts and the feeling of his mouth devouring yours, you felt yourself reaching an orgasm more intense than anything you've ever before.

"Fu-...oh my god," you moaned loudly, your legs trembling uncontrollably.

Haechan followed suit shortly after, his thrusts growing messier as you clenched tightly around him. He came with a loud, uninhibited moan that reverberated through the room, a sound that would undoubtedly linger in your mind for a long time.

The air grew still, and the only audible sounds were the heavy, ragged breaths escaping both of you. Lying on your backs, you found yourselves staring up at the ceiling, your legs still intertwined, too exhausted to make a move or utter a word.

But then, Haechan shattered the silence.

"Best fucking birthday ever."

a/n: btw i reached 127 followers right after posting this so thank you so much lol *cue the flute*

1K notes · View notes

wheeboo · 11 months ago

Text

the secret life of jun | wen junhui

SYNOPSIS. in which jun gets set up on a blind date by his best friend. PAIRING. zoolinguist!wen junhui x gn!reader (ft. minghao, gyu the golden retriever, boo the duckling, and lil mentions of some members as their representative animals. not hybrids.) GENRE. fluff, humour, kinda strangers to lovers, magic-realism au WARNINGS. cursing, jun just being a very cute awkward shy boy :(, my first attempt at something remotely magic/fantasy WORD COUNT. 3k

notes: this is for the caratlibrary secret gift exchange event! and therefore, this gift is for @phenomenalgirl9 who also gifted a fic for me hehe. i hope you enjoy <3 this is also my first time writing something remotely fantasy/magic, so... feedback is welcome! ty to my lovely moots who read this over for me ^^

"Jun! Can you tell your dog to get the fuck off me?" Minghao attempts to shove away the ever-persistent golden retriever pawing and licking at his face, but Jun doesn't seem to hear, seemingly engrossed on something else entirely in the kitchen.

Minghao just groans annoyedly, and just as he's about to call out for his best friend's name again, a thought crosses his mind. A sort-of stupid one that he knows won't work, but he'll try it out anyway.

He brings a hand up, watching the dog follow it with curiosity, and he points to the ground while firmly saying, "Down."

Unfortunately, the dog only tilts his head inquisitively, as if dazed and confused by the action, before relentlessly pouncing on the boy again, and all he could do is surrender himself to the attack of excitement. Right, he thinks, these animals don't exactly understand him normally.

Jun finally emerges from the kitchen after what feels like an eternity, a black cat cuddled gently in his arms, lightly running his fingers through its fur carefully. When he picks his head up, he could only chuckle at the sight in front of him. Minghao only rolls his eyes, shooting a playful glare to his best friend who only seems amused.

"Your dog is a menace," Minghao declares, wiping away the slobber from his face.

"Come on! Gyu just likes you."

"I'm not sure I share the sentiment right now," Minghao replies almost coldly, perhaps even half-jokingly, attempting to regain his composure.

Jun just sighs and sends out a whistle from his lips to get the dog's attention. And with a subtle look from just his eyes, as if sending a silent signal, Gyu hops off the couch and trots over to Jun, letting out a few barks in response.

"He says he doesn't like your attitude today," Jun translates, setting the cat in his hands down on the floor. "but he's forgiven you."

"Gee, thanks," Minghao scoffs and crosses his arms together, still trying to maintain a façade of irritation, though it's quite easy to see right through it.

He watches for some time as Jun crouches down to the dog's level, the two of them communicating in a way he knows he can never understand, but is grown to be amazed by every time. It isn't a secret that he knows that his own best friend can communicate with animals, as strange as that might sound (because... it's true), but it's a fact he's fully accepted.

Jun probably has more animal friends than human friends at this point. He's made friends with the birds at the park, the stray cats that roam the streets, a deer that comes to visit occasionally behind his place, an otter that frequents at a nearby pond, hell even one of the tigers at the zoo𑁋the list goes on.

And not to exactly complain, but he also really wants Jun to find a fucking partner.

Not that it's a bad thing Jun isn't seeing anyone, and it totally isn't the entire reason why Minghao is here right now. He has tried to set Jun up on dates, but the older boy almost always manages to find some excuse or simply doesn't show up, claiming he got caught up in a conversation with a stray cat or a butterfly on the way. Or the date ends up in disaster with a chase down the street of the neighbourhood raccoons stealing food.

But then again, that's Jun for you𑁋unpredictable.

"One more date."

Jun raises his head, and the moment he sees that particular smirk to Minghao's face, he groans.

"No."

"Oh, come on, just one more," Minghao insists. "I promise you'll like them. They're an animal lover."

"Just because they're an animal lover doesn't mean𑁋"

"You're either going to be drinking 'till you're absolutely couch-ridden on new year's because you're single and lonely again, or you could be celebrating with someone special. Your call, dude."

Jun finds his face flushing out of embarrassment, scratching absentmindedly behind Gyu's ears as Minghao's words wash over him. Then his features soften, and he lets out a sigh.

"Fine," he relents. "One more."

Shit, he's screwed. The minute Minghao told him the date would be happening in the middle of the park where he often chatted with the local squirrels and ducks, Jun knew this already wouldn't end well.

He also had quite the love-hate relationship with blind dates𑁋or dates in general, to be honest𑁋and the thought of meeting a stranger made his palms sweat even with the cold threatening through his thick coat (he's convinced that Minghao is pulling anyone out of his ass at this point).

The park is covered with a light blanket of snow, the trees standing tall and glowing with strings of fairy lights against the grey winter sky. Jun shivers in place and adjusts the scarf around his neck, partially from the cold and partially from the impending awkwardness he anticipates.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for being late! The traffic was awful coming here and I got a bit lost..."

The voice is frantic and panicky to Jun's ears akin to his equally panicking heart, who turns around to a figure rushing up to him, covered in layers and letting out misty breaths that appear in the air.

"It's okay," Jun says, voice coming out a bit awkward. He offers a reassuring smile. "I'm, uh... Jun, by the way."

"Y/N," You say, relieved as you finally catch your breath and look up at him with a cute grin. "I'm so sorry for being late. I hope you weren't waiting for too long."

"Oh, not at all. I... just got here as well." It's a bit of a white lie𑁋he was beginning to worry you ditched him, honestly. Jun feels his hands fidget in his pockets nervously, yet he sees the ease that washes over your features at his words, and he relaxes slightly. There's something about the way you carry yourself and the slight blush on your cheeks from the cold that eases some of his tension.

And maybe, just maybe, his heart stutters a little at your smile, like a startled butterfly in his chest. Did the lights at the park grow brighter?

"Would you like to, uh, maybe grab some hot chocolate?" Jun suggests, gesturing towards the small, lit up kiosk nestled in the corner of the park that seemed quite busy with customers. "It can help... warm you up."

Your eyes light up to his words, grinning. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As you both walk towards the kiosk, the air seems to crackle with a nervous energy Jun hadn't expected. Despite the awkwardness gnawing at him, he can't deny the strange sense of hope fluttering in his stomach, somewhat like a small bird unsure of its flight. He's not the best at dates and probably never will be, but for some reason, feeling this sort of apprehension is unlike anything else he's felt. It's not uncomfortable per se, but more... exciting?

The two of you stand in the back of the line, shoulder-to-shoulder, hands tucked deep in your pockets and sharing silences punctuated by the occasional nervous giggle when your eyes meet. The line at the kiosk is surprisingly long, a mix of bundled-up families with laughing children and young couples warming their hands around steaming plastic cups.

When your shoulder brushes against his, Jun freezes for a moment, feeling a warmth spreading through him that has nothing to do with the hot chocolate. He steals a glance at you, finding your gaze already on him, and there's a shy smile that you both share before you look away first.

Then Jun notices it𑁋you're shivering.

It's almost imperceptible at first, a slight tremor running through your shoulders as you shift your weight from foot to foot. He hesitates for a moment, then a nervous breath leaves him. Fuck it.

Without a word, he unravels the wooly scarf from around his neck and drapes it over you, fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary as he adjusts it comfortably. You blink up at Jun with wide eyes.

"Sorry I, uh... noticed you were cold," he mumbles, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

You glance at him, surprise evident in your eyes, and then you chuckle. "Are you sure? I don't want you to freeze."

"I'll be alright," Jun just assures calmly, though the chill creeping up his neck is a bit hard to hide now.

The line moves forward, and soon you're ordering hot chocolate for the both of you. Jun pays for both, insisting with a small nod when you attempt to pull out your wallet.

As Jun and you clutch the steaming cups, the warmth radiating through the thin plastic felt almost comforting. The park bustles around you, but with each sip, the outside world seems to fade away, leaving only the diffident hum of conversation and the fluttering hope that dances between you.

"So, uh, what kind of animals do you like?" Jun asks, trying to break the ice as you both trail down an empty path close to the icy pond nearby. He's not exactly smooth with conversation, but he figures asking about your supposed love for animals is a safe bet. "I've been told you like them."

Your eyes light up as you take a swift, long sip of the hot chocolate, the warmth quickly spreading through you.

"Oh, all kinds!" You answer eagerly. "I volunteer at an animal shelter not that far from here and take care of the injured ones. I have a lot of pets at home too𑁋a hamster, a dog, a few cats, a rabbit... How about you?"

You spoke so quickly that Jun could barely register it all, but he can't help but grin at your enthusiasm. It’s almost infectious.

"Wow, I have, uh... a dog and a cat at home... Gyu and Woozi are their names," Jun replies slowly, almost unsurely.

"That's really cute!" You tell him, catching the way the corners of his lips crinkle up just slightly and how he has to angle his face down just to hide it. "My hamster's name is Hoshi! My dog is Minnie, my rabbit is Hannie, and my cats are Wonu, Nonie..."

Listening to you list your pets' names and some of the ones you've taken care of at the shelter makes Jun feel just a tiny bit lighter with each step he takes with you, and also from the way your eyes sparkle with every word you spoke. He finds himself letting out giggles at your stories of Hoshi's escape attempts and Min's stubborn streak, and for the first time in a long time, he feels truly comfortable, truly seen in a way that didn't feel fake.

Yet it doesn't take long for that feeling to falter just slightly. He doesn't know what Minghao exactly told you about him, or if anything at all𑁋how does he explain to you that he can quite literally talk to animals?

He knew that spilling the beans could go one of two ways: either you'd think he was crazy, or you'd be amazed (and maybe even a little scared). He's never exactly revealed it to any person he goes on a date with because, in the end, after a handful of mishap encounters with animals that don't mean to ruin the date, they end up leaving anyway.

Should he tell you? The words dance on his tongue, ready to tumble out, but that unwanted fear of rejection holds him back once again.

But before he can say anything, a squeaky quack pierces through the air, snapping Jun out of his thoughts. He looks down to see a small duckling waddling towards them, its tiny yellow head bobbing with each step. It stops in front of you, tilting its head inquisitively as it looks you up and down curiously, before heading to Jun's feet and quacking loudly.

It's Boo, one of the park's young resident chatterboxes who loves nothing more than socialising and the occasional spread of gossip. Jun had befriended Boo a while back, often sharing stories and snacks by the pond. But what was Boo doing here, and why does he look so worried? Jun could almost hear a frantic heartbeat echoing through the duckling's chest.

Boo lets out a series of rapid quacks. Jun strains to decipher the splurge of words, picking up snippets about stolen food and a local raccoon, and... how one of his siblings is stuck somewhere.

"Oh my gosh, you're so cute!" You exclaim, kneeling down upon noticing the young duck in front of Jun and extending a tentative hand. "What are you doing out here, little one? You're going to freeze."

Jun could only listen as the distraught duck spills its frustration on you. Yet you didn't understand anything, only continuing to coo about how cute the duckling is, and Jun watches as Boo looks up at him with pleading eyes, urging him to do something. He knew he had to act, but he glances at you, still kneeling with outstretched hand at Boo, and his mind races.

Should he explain his... ability to you and risk making you uncomfortable? Or maybe try to handle it on his own, somehow decipher Boo's instructions and lead you on a cryptic animal rescue mission that might look completely bizarre, delusional, and psychotic?

"Do you think it's lost?" You ask worriedly, glancing back up at Jun. And when his gaze catches yours, warm and hopeful in the glow of the fairy lights surrounding you, a surge of determination pulses through him.

Jun only quietly chuckles at Boo's attempts to tell you his name, his tiny feathered body vibrating with slight annoyance, but your gentle cooing and outstretched hand seem to soothe him a little. The sight stirs something deep within him, a warmth that spreads beyond the simple comfort of the hot chocolate from earlier.

"He's not lost," Jun says, his gaze meeting yours. "He's... a friend. And he's telling us a story. Oh, and his name is Boo, by the way."

Your brow furrows in confusion, a tiny crease appearing between your eyes. “You… understand ducks?”

Jun offers a hesitant smile, a knot of anxiety twisting in his stomach. There's no going back now.

“It’s a bit more than that,” he admits sheepishly, watching your expression shift from curious to intrigued. “I can, um, like... sort of talk to animals, I guess. Or they sort of talk to me, basically, yeah..."

The silence that follows is deafening. Jun braces himself for a wave of disbelief, rejection, maybe even a startled shriek. But instead, your eyes widen with awe, a growing smile forms on your lips, and Jun can't quite bring himself to tear his gaze away from you. He'd taken a leap of faith, and you, instead of running for the hills, were looking at him with... wonder?

"Wow, that's..." You breathe, voice hushed with wonder. "I-I mean I always knew that... sort of existed? Like, in research papers and ancient history, but meeting someone who can actually do it is just..."

Jun blinks, a bit taken aback by your reaction.

"You're not... freaked out or anything?" he asks cautiously. "Like... you actually believe me?"

"Jun." You turn to him, shifting so that your knees are slightly touching in the snow. "Minghao told me like... a lot of things, or tried to at least. I mean, at first I found it ridiculous, then I realised that this is Xu Minghao telling me this, and if he's vouching for you, it must be true. And, well... I really wanted to get to know you too."

Oh. "Oh," Jun mutters, cheeks flushing and face burning. Minghao, of course. He should have known his best friend with a 'credible' reputation wouldn't simply set him up on a blind date without throwing him under the bus a little bit. "I mean, it-it's nothing too fascinating. No mind-reading or telepathy exactly, just… understanding their gestures and stuff. It's kind of like learning a new language, you know?"

"Well, can you tell me what Boo is saying then?" You quirk up expectantly, and Jun swears he cannot handle more than five seconds of you peering at him without melting completely. His heart does a little double flip in his chest, landing somewhere around his ankles.

Jun chuckles, a warm sound that feels right at home amidst the snowy air. Then he takes a deep breath, steadying himself under your gaze, before turning his attention back to the little duck at his feet.

"Alright, alright," he teases, ruffling Boo's feathers playfully. "Don't get jealous, little guy. Spill it."

Boo then goes on an insistent frenzy of quacks, and you could only watch in awe as Jun listens carefully, nodding and humming in response. There's a certain magic in the air that you can sense, as if you've stepped right into a fairytale of some sorts. The small duckling then looks up at you with begging eyes, as if seeking your help as well. Jun shoots you a quick glance, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"He's pretty worked up," he admits, clearing his throat. "He's telling me about a raccoon that stole his flock's food, and... um, one of his siblings is stuck in a log somewhere. I have some food with me, but he wants to find his sibling first. He knows the way."

"Then let's do it," You say, rising to your feet and dusting off the snow on your pants.

Jun hesitates again, staring at you in slight disbelief𑁋you want to come with him? He glances at Boo, who lets out a frustrated quack, urging him to make a decision. Then he looks back at you, your kind eyes holding his own, and suddenly the choice becomes clear.

"Do you trust me?" Jun asks softly, his heart pounding in his chest.

You hold his gaze for a moment, a thoughtful look on your face. Then a smile blooms across your lips, one that reaches your eyes and seems to chase away the worry.

"I trust you," You answer, stretching an open hand towards him.

Jun feels a warmth spread through him, and he grabs your hand in his. Relief and something else courses through him, like excitement and perhaps a bit of fear. You were in, and that was all that mattered.

Boo lets out a triumphant quack, and with him waddling excitedly at your feet, you follow Jun deeper into the park, the fairy lights casting long shadows against the snow-covered ground. It's a strange sight𑁋you walking on one side of Jun and a duckling trotting on the other𑁋but with every step, whatever awkwardness that was lingering seems to melt away.

And maybe, just maybe, something else was blossoming too.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify

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in-my-feels-probably · 2 years ago

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hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heart……

Enchanted

Request: hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heart…

and: btw I saw your post about sab season 2 and i would like to request something with nikolai. i dont really have any ideas but i love that blonde boy so anything that you'll write with him is going to make me happy- but if its angst please im begging for a happy ending im already depressed because im reading rules of wolves

and: omg omg omg enchanted x nikolai sounds so perfect 😭 literally written for him

Hi! I absolutely adore these requests, thank you for sending them in. And sorry for the long wait, I’ve been a bit busy. And please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing for Nikolai, this is only my second time. Also, this request was combined with two others, I hope that’s alright, and sorry for anyone who’s request was altered a little bit to fit this story. I’m happy to accept another request if you don’t like this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

(Warnings: arranged marriage, swearing, very very brief angst, very vague suggestive content, drinking, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You had nearly begged on your knees when you found out you were to be wed, pleading with your parents’ advisors.

You were no fool. You knew that one day you’d have to marry, and you were prepared to do your duty. A Princess isn’t awarded the luxury of a choice, and you knew any match that was made probably wouldn’t be from a place of love. But you never thought your parents would be prepared to ship you off to a man none of you had ever even laid eyes on, and that’s including the advisors.

A second son, and a rumored bastard at that. It was all happening too fast, and you weren’t having an easy time processing it.

“You can’t send me! We already have an alliance with Ravka, why send me still?”

One of the men had stood, trying to ease you. “You must go, Princess. We may have an alliance, but our forces need to be strengthened. Prince Vasily is already spoken for. Marrying you to Prince Nikolai is the fastest way.”

“I am told he is charming, if it is any consolation,” another man said, though his voice was firmer. “It is time, Princess, for you to do your duty. You will marry.”

You finally relented, your fate beginning to set in. “That’s it, then. When will I be expected to leave?”

There was a moment of silence, and an awkward shuffling of feet as the advisors stood. And then one of the men spoke, sending dread running through you like ice in your veins.

“Your arrival is set for the end of the week. The King and Queen are expecting you.”

—

The journey passed far quicker than you had anticipated. A trip like that should have been grueling, yet each moment felt more fleeting than the last. By the time you arrived on Ravkan soil, you would practically be theirs. Upon your arrival, you were escorted to the Great Hall to meet the King and Queen.

“Moi tsar,” you curtsied, keeping your eyes low. “Moi tsaritsa. It is an honor.”

The words tasted sour on your tongue, but you spoke them anyway. The King and Queen were not known to be the kindest of people, and you’d rather spend your time in a foreign country on the good side of the sovereign.

“Princess,” the King greeted as he stood, his eyes racking your body. “You are as beautiful as they say. My son will be pleased. Unfortunately, your arrival has preceded his. He attended a meeting with our generals, and is set to arrive in a few days. The wedding will be in a fortnight. Until then, please enjoy our hospitality. I look forward to this new found alliance between our great countries.”

“As do I,” you said, forcing a smile.

—

As the days passed, you grew more uneasy. The weight of your duties were beginning to drag you down, and you didn’t know if you could bear the burden any longer.

Nikolai had yet to return to court, but with his inevitable arrival looming, it became harder to face each day. You were practically alone in the castle, having yet to make any friends. And you doubted the arrival of a Prince—the subject of scandalous rumors—would do anything to lessen the loneliness and fear you felt every night.

One evening, the pressure became too great.

Despite your duties, and the anger you knew both countries would feel towards you, you fled. It was a rash decision, and a stupid one at that. But it was the only option that could give you your freedom, so you took it.

It led you all the way down to the harbor, which you briskly made your way to with little more than the clothes on your back.

Your window of opportunity was closing, and you took it. In mere hours, someone would notice you were missing from your room. Guards would be sent all throughout the palace, and they’d track you down if you weren’t quick enough. One way or another, you would marry the second Prince of Ravka. You’d be forced to. And although the thought of being alone in an open country you knew next to nothing about terrified you, it was less terrifying than the thought of being trapped in that castle forever.

So you went. Fled, more accurately. All the way to the harbor, in nothing but a dress and cloak, with a bag of coins hidden in your skirts.

As you approached the harbor, the shout of guards could be heard in the distance. “Spread out! She cannot have gone far.”

The Kingsguard.

You felt your chest tighten as you quickened your pace, pulling your hood over your head. You rushed as inconspicuously as you could, clambering to get as far from the palace as possible. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your wrist.

“What’s the rush for, My Lady? You’re going to hurt yourself running in those shoes,” the woman said, her brows furrowing.

You stopped in your tracks to take her in, realizing she was standing next to a much larger man. She had axes sheathed at her waist, and a confused but intrigued grin.

“Please, excuse me—” You stuttered out, trying to pull away.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the man said, in a tone much gentler than his appearance. “We mean you no harm. What are you running from?”

“I need to get away from here, and fast,” you pleaded, deciding to trust these people who stopped you.

“That wasn’t an answer to our question,” the woman said, easing her grip.

You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to look over your shoulder before turning back. “Please, I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just let me go. I have to get out of here, and quickly.”

The woman shared a glance with the man, and for a minute, you were beginning to think you had been found out. They somehow recognized you, and would know that the castle guards were looking for you. If that was true, the pair didn’t show it, looking back at you.

“We have a ship,” the man finally said, gesturing behind him. “And a captain. A name you’d perhaps recognize. Sturmhond.”

Sturmhond, you thought to yourself. The richest pirate on the True Sea? What was he doing in a port in Ravka? You shook your head, having no time for questions.

“Would he grant me safe passage? I can pay, I have the means. Please, I need to know if this is my only option of getting out of here. I haven’t done anything illegal, I promise. I just need to go.”

The woman laughed, her relaxed disposition beginning to ease you. “Illegal would have been more fun. Don’t worry, Princess. We’ll take you to our captain. You’ll be safe with us.”

Your eyes widened, and you stepped back to retreat, when the man raised his hands in surrender.

“We mean you no harm, Princess. Clearly, you’re in trouble, and we have the means to get you away from the palace.”

“Trust me,” the woman said, offering you her hand. “We have no wish to return to the palace.. I’m sure our captain isn’t too keen, either.”

You looked between the ship and back at the castle uneasily, when you heard another shout coming from the guards marching through the village. You turned towards the man and woman, who you just realized looked very similar. Siblings, perhaps, who had just gotten back from a journey at sea.

“Sturmhond is quite the character, but he’s a good man. You have my word,” the man said.

“Alright,” you said, making your decision as you took the woman’s hand. “I’ll go. Thank you, uh…”

You trailed off, making the man smile. He led you towards a nearby ship, helping you climb your way onto it.

“I’m Tolya, and that’s my sister Tamar. We’re part of Sturmhond’s crew. Come along, he’ll want to meet you.”

They quickly led you aboard a ship, ushering the crew to cast off. The crew looked around with confused faces, but listened anyway. As the ship slowly left the harbor, you were led downstairs to the cabins below.

“Captain,” Tamar called, knocking on the first doorway below deck, before opening the door herself.

“Do you want to tell me why my ship is moving away from the dock?” Sturmhond asked without turning around, shuffling through his cabin as he pulled on his coat.

You cleared your throat. “That would be because of me, I think.”

Sturmhond turned around at the sound of your voice, his eyes widening as he took you in. “I don’t believe it. Good evening, Princess. I do hope you are well. Tamar and Tolya have treated you kindly, I expect?”

You shrunk under his gaze, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Is my title that easy to spot? You’re the second to figure it out, is it something I’m doing?”

“Tamar has a keen eye,” Sturmond shrugged, grinning. “But you’re also wearing an evening gown fit for court, and the jewels around your neck could buy a small country. Those things aren’t exactly subtle, darling. Even with that cloak.”

You nodded, still nervous but relaxing with his calm demeanor. “I was told you could grant me passage away from the palace? I can pay, I don’t expect you to do this out of the kindness of your heart. But seeing as we’ve already left the harbor, I don’t think you have any other option but to take me with you. Unless you intend on throwing me overboard into the bay, although I’ll thank you kindly not to do that.”

“In that dress? You’d sink to the bottom, darling. There’s no need to worry, Princess. You’ll stay dry on deck, that I can assure you,” he chuckled, motioning for you to sit.

“We’ll inform the crew our trip has been extended,” Tamar announced, pulling Tolya behind her to leave the cabin.

You sat in the chair on the other side of Sturmhond’s desk, and he sat across from you. He offered you a kind smile, one that surprised you. You had heard plenty about the infamous privateer. You hadn’t expected him to be this young and handsome. His reputation matched that of an old tycoon, not of what appeared to be an ex soldier. He looked at you with curiosity, motioning for you to speak.

“So, would you like to explain to me why my ship is sailing back out to sea? Not that I’m upset or anything, I was dreading my return to Ravka myself. But as I understand it, you were asked to come to Ravka to strengthen a political alliance—”

“And how would you know about that?” You interrupted, raising a brow.

He smiled, shrugging. “I have my ways. It pays to know lots of things about lots of things. Including which Princesses are being married off to far away royalty.”

“Do you know him?” You asked, your voice a little unstable. “The Prince, I mean. Nikolai. I could hardly find anyone who knew him, and any knowledge of him was limited. I went into this alliance blind, thanks to my parents and advisors.”

Sturmhond’s grin widened as he nodded. “I do know him, yes. We were briefly acquainted some time ago.”

“And?”

“He’s alright,” Sturmhond laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Dashingly handsome. A bit cocky for my taste, perhaps a little spoiled, but what royalty isn’t, right? No offense.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “None taken.”

“I suppose you’re lucky in that you’re set to marry him, and not the Crown Prince. Vasily is—how should I put this—well…”

“A bastard?” You finished, making Sturmhond chuckle, nodding.

“He is, yes. Nikolai is, in another manner of speaking, the same as well. Is that why you’re running? You don’t want to risk your reputation on a second son who may not even be the second son?”

Sturmhond looked at you through curious eyes, although there was a little apprehension in them. A little vulnerability that you didn’t quite know what to make of. You shook your head, inadvertently easing his thoughts.

“It’s just rumors, Sturmhond. Whether there is any truth to them, I don’t know, and I don’t care. History records names, not blood. A true Lantsov or not, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s not Nikolai’s fault who his true parents are, and he shouldn’t have to bear the consequences of their actions. All that matters to my parents is what he means for my country. His reputation doesn’t affect that.”

“And what matters to you?” Sturmhond asked, his eyes softening. “Your secrets are safe with me, and I promise to not throw you overboard for whatever your answers are. Why are you running, Princess?”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. Sturmhond politely waisted for you to start, nodding encouragingly for you to speak.

You fiddled with your hands in your lap nervously. “Nikolai’s blood doesn’t matter to me, truly. All that really matters is that he has a kind heart, and he makes living at Ravkan court for the rest of my life more bearable.”

Sturmhond nodded as he listened intently. You continued.

“From what I hear, he’s a perfectly good man. Compared to my list of options, he was probably the best I could have hoped for.”

“Was? Or is? Do you intend on running forever? Seems like a waste of time in what is already a fleeting existence, Princess,” he said quietly.

“I know,” you nodded, growing frustrated. “I don’t know why I did it. I just thought about being alone at court for the rest of my life, and even the promise of a semi decent Prince wasn’t enough to ease my fears. I just wanted control over my own life for once, you know? My own freedom. It was a rash decision, I admit. But it seems to be working well in my favor so far.”

Sturmhond nodded, standing up from his desk to pour two glasses of whiskey. You downed yours the second he placed it in front of you, deciding it was better to let the second one sit when he refilled your glass.

“And Nikolai? What are his thoughts on the matter?”

You shrugged, fiddling with the glass. “I don’t know. He hasn’t been at court since I arrived. I have yet to meet him. Although, once he hears of me running, I’m sure any first impressions he could have had of me are ruined.”

“I don’t know about that.”

You raised a brow, coaxing him to continue. “Really? Why is that?”

“From what I hear, Nikolai isn’t really one for court, either,” he started, shrugging. “He runs when he gets the chance, too. Why do you think he’s away from court so often?”

You pondered the thought for a minute. “I don’t know. I always assumed his duties took him elsewhere. He’s not the Crown Prince, so he doesn’t need to remain in the palace. He serves in the First Army, doesn’t he?”

Sturmhond nodded, grinning. “He does. Or, to put it more accurately, he did. I think he just loiters around neighboring countries until his Mother forces him to come home and make an appearance now.”

You chuckled, letting out a deep sigh. “Isn’t that a treat? Coming home for the first time in months, only to find out your bride to be has run away.”

“With a face like that, I doubt he’ll care much about anything once he sees you.”

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks at his words, setting your eyes to your lap to avoid Sturmhond’s heavy gaze. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he breathed out a laugh.

“Besides, I’m told the Prince isn’t expected back at court for a few more days. Plenty of time for you to decide whether or not you want me to turn this ship around. Who would I be to deny a Princess?”

You smiled, your voice soft. “And if I don’t want to turn around?”

“Well, you’re paying me. I don’t really care either way, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he said, grinning as he topped your glass off. “But just between you and me, I’d do it for free. Anything for a pretty face like that. Just don’t go telling everyone I said that, I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, nodding. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

—

You spent the next few days on the ship, feeling more and more at ease the further you made it from Ravkan shores.

At night, you longed for home.

Not for you parents, or any of their advisors. But for your own bed—not on a constantly rocking ship—and the familiar trill of the birds outside your window on dewy mornings. For the library in the East Wing people seemed to forget was even there, and the soup the cooks would make when a chill was in the air. For the gardens midmorning where you could escape to when you wanted to avoid all the guards constantly watching you.

Sturmhond did a good job at keeping you distracted from saddening thoughts, though. It was sweet of him, really. Making sure you had someone with you during the day, taking all his meals with you in the evening.

Your time on the ship was the most relaxed you had been in a long time, actually, which you attributed to him.

Sturmhond had quite the representation amongst high society—or any society, really—and he certainly met your expectations. He was charming, and attractive. Clever and ambitious, like everyone said he was.

You hadn’t expected him to be as attentive as he is, however. He seemed to really enjoy a new guest on the ship, one that could keep up with his banter. He didn’t make you feel like a burden like your parents so often did, actually including you in his daily routine.

Tolya and Tamar were great, too. Kind, and funny. Fiercely loyal and protective, both of their captain and of each other. They were the kind of friends you hoped to make during your time in Ravka.

So far, it was off to a good start.

As the days moved on, you found yourself growing closer to Sturmhond. You tried to stop yourself in the beginning. Despite not wanting it for yourself, you were engaged to Nikolai. Falling for another man wasn’t exactly a good thing for your future

But that damned smile.

His ridiculously attractive smile, and his stupid mop of hair that had only gotten longer from his time at sea. The infuriating way he’d look at you and make you want to shrink away from his gaze, but you could never bring yourself to look away. The obnoxious green emerald ring he wore that could probably buy a small village.

He had charmed you, despite your reservations, and you were practically head over heels. It scared the absolute shit out of you.

Tamar had of course noticed already, confronting you about it one night after dinner. She joined you on deck, sitting next to you on a crate as you watched the stars twinkle in the sky. They were so visible out at sea, away from all the lights and clutter of the cities.

“You’re not hiding anything from me, you know,” she smirked, sneaking your flask away to take a few sips from it.

You feigned innocence, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tamar.”

“Come on, darling. Let’s skip the bluffing…you like him. It’s so obvious.”

“Saints, I hope not,” you groaned, scrunching your nose up at the thought of Sturmhond finding out.

Tamar grinned at your embarrassment, chuckling. “Don’t worry. I may not swing that way, but I know the look when I see it. He’s all puppy dog eyes and desperate looks of longing when he sees you. It’s gross, really. I can actually hear his heart skip a beat when he sees you. He likes you, too. I’d stake money on it.”

You swallowed down your excitement, trying to think rationally. “Don’t even joke about that, it’s not funny.”

“I’m serious! You’re a catch, Princess. He may be my captain, but he’d be a fool not to want you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but we can stop there,” you nervously chuckled. “We don’t need this going to my head. I’ll do something stupid like staying on this boat forever.”

She grinned, nudging your shoulder with hers. “Would that be so bad?”

—

The next few days, you couldn’t get Tamar’s words out of your head. You went on with your routine with Sturmhond as usual, trying not to put much thought into it.

Your feelings for him were true, that’s for sure.

And when you’d catch him looking at you from across the deck, you’d swear by the look in his eye that he felt something for you, too. What it was, exactly, you didn’t know.

But it was something.

On your last evening before you had to make a decision about where you wanted to go, you skipped dinner. You couldn’t bring yourself to go along with your usual banter with Sturmhond, beginning to feel guilty about just how close and comfortable you’d gotten with him.

You still had a duty to your country and your family, which meant at least a little to you. Plus, it wasn’t fair to make a promise to Prince Nikolai, only to leave him hanging when he returned to Ravka.

You were leaning against the deck railing, watching the way the moonlight bounced over the still waters. So lost in thought, you almost didn’t register Sturmhond’s approaching footsteps.

“A bit chilly for stargazing, isn’t it?” He asked, coming to stand next to you.

You turned to see him, smiling when you noticed he was wearing his signature blue coat. You couldn’t remember a time since you met that he wasn’t dressed to the nines, no matter what time of day it was.

“You know, for a pirate, you don’t really look like one.”

He grinned, gently correcting you. “A privateer, darling, not a pirate. There’s a difference, I assure you.”

“Ah, a privateer. How could I have forgotten?” You chuckled, hugging yourself in an effort to shield your arms from the biting cold. “But seriously. The emerald on your finger is the size of a walnut, and that coat is fit for royalty. I find it hard to believe a privateer does well enough to afford things as nice as those.”

“Maybe I’m just good at my job,” he retorted, that signature smirk on his face.

It was enough to stir butterflies in your stomach, making you turn to look back out at the water. His gaze lingered on you a moment, and you could feel the heat creeping up to your cheeks under the weight of his stare.

“You’re cold,” he observed, breaking the silence.

“I’m fine,” you tried to say, but Sturmhond interrupted you.

“I can practically hear your teeth chattering,” he laughed, shrugging his coat from his shoulders. “Here. Seeing as my coat is fit for royalty, as you say, I think it’ll suit you better.”

“Sturmhond—”

“Princess,” he mirrored, smirking when you relented, letting him place it around your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

You turned away from the water to face him, leaning back against the bannister. His eyes flitted up and down your form at his coat wrapped around shoulders, before his eyes met yours. He took a seat on the crate behind him, leaning back and settling into the post next to him. It was quiet a moment before he finally spoke.

“You weren’t in your cabin at dinner. Where have you been?”

You sighed, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat. “Thinking.”

“Thinking? About what?”

“About my future,” you said shakily, shoulders slumping. “Both the imminent one, and the one to follow based on what I decide tonight.”

Sturmhond nodded, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ve been thinking about that, too, if I’m being honest.”

You raised a brow at his words. He’d been thinking about your future? He’d been thinking about you? The thought was both intriguing and terrifying, and you hoped the confusion on your face wasn’t too apparent.

“Well, I…I’m sorry, what?”

“Your future directly impacts me,” he quickly corrected, suddenly steeling his face and meeting your confusion with his usual grin. “Where you go I go, remember? You are paying me, after all.”

You tried to hide your disappointment, forcing a smile. It was a foolish hope to have, that he’d think something more of you. But it wasn’t a hope you were ready to give up.

Not just yet, at least.

He seemed to notice your disappointment, brows furrowing. “Have I upset you?”

“No,” you quickly replied, trying to brush it off with a laugh. “No, it’s not you. I’m just not quite sure what I should do. I know you need an answer, and Ravka needs an answer, but…I don’t have one yet.”

“Why?”

You shook your head, sighing in frustration. “Earlier, I had more than halfway made up my mind. I value my freedom, but I think I value my dignity more. I don’t think I could go anywhere and face anyone, knowing I’ve turned my back on my duties. It may have not been a promise I made for myself personally, but it is a promise I had every intention of keeping.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He asked, a genuine look of concern on his face.

His eyes softened on you as your face fell, and you turned away from him as you felt heat creep up to your cheeks. You could hear him stand and approach you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Princess?” He asked, only worsening your embarrassment.

He spoke again, finally getting you to acknowledge him. “You’re worrying me, darling. Surely it cannot be that bad.”

“But it is,” you groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stave off the tears you could feel brewing.

“Try me,” he said gently, carefully placing a hand on your arm. “You can tell me the truth. What’s stopping you from returning to Ravka?”

You could feel his touch even through the coat, which struck you like a punch to the gut when you remembered it was, in fact, his coat you were wearing. And to make it worse, that damned grin was on his face as he spoke with such a genuine kindness in his voice that it made you want to cry.

You finally met his eyes, taking a sharp breath. Shit, you thought to yourself. You were really going to admit it. He eagerly awaited your response, which you finally managed to utter.

“You.”

He sucked in a breath, withdrawing his hand. He looked up at the sky for a moment, before taking another breath and turning back to you.

“Me?” He asked.

“You,” you said again, exasperatedly laughing. “You, and your ridiculous clothes, and your infuriating charm, and your kindness and ambition…that damned smile.”

Sturmhond’s cheeks flushed, and he took a step back, although he was grinning like a fool. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. You didn’t dare speak, waiting for him to say something. After an agonizing moment of silence, he leaned against the bannister, letting out a chuckle.

“What?” You forced yourself to ask, preparing yourself for his answer.

“Saints, Princess…you’ve gone and done it now.”

You shook your head, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. “What?”

“You’ve managed to outdo me. On my own ship. Quite the feat, I’ll give you that,” he laughed, still grinning.

You narrowed your eyes, still shaking your head. “Sturmhond, I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re saying to me right now. Will you do the honor of enlightening me, or are you going to stand there grinning at me all night?”

“You like my grin,” he mused, making you flush.

He spoke again, saving you from your embarrassment. “And it just so happens that I like yours, too. I like all of you. Very much so indeed, Princess.”

Your heart lurched into your throat at his words, and you had to grab ahold of the bannister behind you to keep yourself steady. He placed his hand over top of yours, his palm warming yours.

“I cannot believe you beat me to the punch. It’s rude to upstage a captain on his own ship. You’re lucky you’re royalty. I’ll allow it just this once.”

You had just now calmed your breathing, beginning to take in the weight of his words, and what it meant for you both. “Sturmhond, I—”

“I have a confession to make,” he suddenly said in a very serious tone, startling you. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I must tell you something before either of us share something we can’t take back.”

“Alright…” You said uneasily.

Carefully, he took your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. You let him hold it, waiting for him to speak. Absentmindedly, you comfortingly ran your thumb along the back of his hand, silently reassuring him.

“My name isn’t Sturmhond,” he finally said, the nerves in his voice the worst you had ever heard them.

Trying not to jump to any hasty conclusions, you nodded, squeezing his hand once more. “Alright…if it isn’t Sturmhond, then what is it?”

“Well, technically it is, but it also isn’t. It’s just a nickname—” He rambled, and you placed your other hand on top of his to stop him.

“I gathered that much. What else are you trying to tell me? Go on, you can say it.”

He took a deep breath, his voice soft. “It’s true that people call me Sturmhond, but I’m much better known for my birth name…Nikolai. Nikolai Lantsov.”

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. You tried not to flinch in his grasp, but you knew he could feel you stiffen. You cleared your throat, feeling your voice begin to grow hoarse

“Nikolai Lantsov…as in Prince Nikolai Lantsov, second son of the Ravkan throne? Moi tsarevich,” you croaked out, attempting to curtsy.

“Please,” Nikolai said, holding both your hands in his to keep you from bowing. “There is no need for such formalities, darling. If anything, I should be the one bowing to you.”

You stood up straight, shaking your head. “We’re long past that, don’t you think?”

He chuckled, nodding. “I suppose so.”

The reality of your situation began to set in, and you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling along with him. He smiled at the sound, raising a brow.

“What is it?”

“I suppose my little dilemma is solved then,” you said, shrugging. “I was beginning to spiral, thinking my annoying habit of not being able to contain my feelings had ruined any decision I could have made. But of course—in your usual fashion—you’ve managed to upstage me. As is your right, it is your ship, after all. Well, I suppose there’s no decision to make now. At least, I think there isn’t…right?”

Any nerves you had mustered up were immediately squashed when Nikolai brought his hands up to cup your face, running his thumbs across the tops of your cheeks.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’d take you wherever you wanted to go. All I can hope now is that you’ll allow me to join you…wherever that is.”

You brought a hand up to rest against his wrist. “Don’t you want to go home? You’re expected back in Ravka any day now.”

“I love my country, but I’m in no hurry to return. You’ve told me multiple times how dreadful court was for you—”

“That doesn’t matter,” you quickly said, squeezing his wrist.

“Of course it does! I cannot ask you to return to a country you’ll be miserable in for the rest of your days for a man you barely know.”

“It’s a good thing you aren’t asking, then,” you reaffirmed, giving him a smile. “I told you. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I said that I was afraid I would be all alone at court, and that I was afraid the man I am promised to wouldn’t want a life with me.”

“What a fool he’d have to be to not want that,” Nikolai joked, making your grin widen.

You continued to reassure him, not convinced that he was believing your words.

“You say that you’ll follow me wherever I go. Well, I want to go with you. Wherever that is. And I want you to go home. I may have not known you for long, but I’ve been around you long enough to know that you won’t truly be content if you’re tied to my wishes. And I know you’re too stubborn to admit that, so I’ll tell you my wishes, and I need you to believe me. I wish to be with you. I wish for you to return to wherever feels like home, and I wish for you to take me with you. If that’s Ravka, then Ravka will be home. Court will become much more bearable with you there. And if it begins to become too much, I know a certain privateer that can whisk us away for a few days.”

He was doing it again. Smiling like an idiot. He seemed to be in disbelief at your words, this being one of the very few times in his life that he couldn’t find the right words to say.

“I didn’t mean to trick you, Princess. I should have told you who I was from the beginning.”

You shook your head. “I don’t blame you, Nikolai. If I was given the chance, I wouldn’t have told you who I really was, either. At least, not until I knew I could trust you. I would have done the same as you did. It’s alright.”

“I can’t believe my luck,” he grinned, taking your hand. “How is it that my betrothed managed to stumble upon my ship the very hour I returned to Ravka?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not one to believe in fate, and it sounds impossible.”

“Not impossible…improbable,” he corrected, smirking when you playfully narrowed your eyes up at him.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile at your turn of luck. “Are we doing this? Are you going home to Ravka?”

“Are we going home, you mean? I can’t be expected to abandon my betrothed when she turns out to be the single most invigorating person I’ve ever met, now can I?”

“You cannot,” you agreed.

A comfortable moment of silence passed between you both, and you looked down at his hands as you held them in yours. The familiar glint of green on his finger made you chuckle.

“I knew it, by the way,” you added, grinning. “This coat and that ring are far too ridiculous for a privateer. They’re fit for royalty. Fit for a Lantsov.”

“Am I to understand that you’re not interested in a Lantsov emerald for your engagement ring?” He asked, smirking when you quickly shook your head.

You laughed, pulling his hand closer to inspect his ring. “I said nothing of the sort. I was merely observing how ridiculous it is, as well as this coat. But I’m still wearing it, aren’t I? If I’m going to be married to a ridiculous man, I should begin preparing now, shouldn’t I?”

He narrowed his eyes, playfully jutting his chin up at you. “You just like the coat and want to keep it. It’s alright, darling, you can admit it. We can have your own fitted for you, all you have to do is ask.”

Nikolai gripped the hem of your sleeve, tugging you closer by the arm of his coat. You let him pull you, chuckling nervously when he drew you nearer.

“I admit nothing, only that my future husband has a taste I will have to acquire. But I’m sure I’m up for the task. We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

“We do,” he smiled, settling his hands around your waist. “Although I’ll have to admit, I don’t think we know each other well enough to become husband and wife.”

You tensed under his hold, and he quickly retracted his statement, shaking his head. He didn’t give you enough time to truly panic, interrupting your train of thought.

“And that’s perfectly fine, darling. Like you said, we have all the time in the world to get to know each other. I think I’d like to take advantage of that starting now. After all, it is our last night on the ship, isn’t it? At least, I assume it is. I expect you’ll want to set a course for Ravka now. Unless you’d rather I get down on one knee, and make a big show of it first. I can do that, if you wish.”

“I certainly wouldn’t stop you,” you chuckled, letting your hands rest on top of his as your tone shifted to a more serious note. “Are we really doing this, Nikolai? Returning to Ravka? Getting married?”

He smiled wider, a twinkle in his eye as he looked down at you. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you stepped foot on my ship, the second I laid eyes on you. And I’ve wanted you more every day since. I’m not one to believe in fate either, but I do think the Saints may have gifted you to me. Who knows what I did to deserve it, but you most definitely won’t find me questioning their will if you’re the result.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. He was right. Of all the ships in the harbor, his was the one you found yourself on. Of all the captains in Ravka, he was the one who took you in. The man you were supposed to marry, and you found yourself falling for him long before you even knew who he truly was. If that isn’t fate, then what is?

“I’ll take all the influence from the Saints I can get when it comes to explaining to your parents why I’ve disappeared right out from under them,” you said with a groan, leaning into him.

Nikolai chuckled, holding you close. “My Mother will forget all about it when she sees my future safely secured with marriage. There is no need to worry, trust me.”

“I may not have to worry about her, but I do need to worry about Tamar,” you said, letting out a pained chuckle. “I think she staked money on our little situation.”

“She most definitely did. I expect Tolya will be paying up when they hear the news. Who should break it to him?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “I think that duty lies with you, as my future husband. If I’m going to have to listen to Tamar’s endless bragging about being right, then you should have to take half the burden in the form of telling Tolya. That’s how marriage works, isn’t it? Half and half. It’s only fair.”

It was his turn to groan now as he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, taking yours in the other.

“Alright, I’ll do it, but you have to accompany me. I think your presence will help soften the blow. What do you say, darling? After all…it’s only fair.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, squeezing his hand. “If I must. You’re lucky you’re pretty, Lantsov.”

“Darling, I’m lucky for a lot more than that,” he smiled endearingly, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

— A/N - Hi! This is SO long, I’m so sorry. And I’m so sorry for taking so long to get this out, I’ve been busy and had no time to write. But I finally forced myself to get this done, and now I have more time to write! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, let me know what you think! Thank you again for the requests :)

#grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows #six of crows imagine

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pursuedbyamemoryy · 1 year ago

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HIIII i saw requests were open… can you perhaps write some general relationship hc’s with arthur, john, and javier?? feel free to do anyone you like i just love them😊😊 thank you so much!!

☆ thank you for requesting, i got a little carried away with some of them hehe. i decided to add charles into the mix because he’s my fav and i couldn’t resist ;) i hope you enjoy reading <3 !!

🌾 arthur morgan

- he admitted his feelings to you by giving you a drawing he did of you that had a little note attached

- he draws you. all the time. before you got together, and while you’re together. he’ll draw you doing chores, sitting by the camp fire, sitting under a tree reading. he just admires you so much and can’t help but draw you

- he shows you everything he draws of you

- if you ask he’d try his best to teach you how to draw. he might not be the best teacher but he’d try his best

- he’s protective but not overprotective. he knows you can handle yourself but is always nearby just in case you need him

- once you’ve been together for a while he opens up to you about eliza and isaac. it’s a difficult thing for him to talk about but he trusts you enough to tell you

- he lets you wear his hat. you’re the only one besides himself who gets to wear it. he thinks it looks cute on you, plus he gets to use the cowboy hat rule excuse ;)

- he likes to get out of camp every so often just for some air and time alone. he used to go out by himself but after you got together he’d take you with him. sometimes it’ll be short rides and other times it’ll be staying out for a couple of days

- he can be a bit distant sometimes when he’s tired or stressed, and he prefers to be alone when he’s overwhelmed in any way. the only exception is you. he’ll reluctantly open up to you at first, but gets more comfortable over time, trusting you with how he’s feeling.

- he likes to joke around with you, and he really lets his playful side show when he’s with you.

- not a fan of PDA but loves cuddling with you in private. he prefers to be the big spoon, having you lay your head on his chest. he also really likes when you lay completely on top of him.

- his hands tend to wander while he holds you. he’ll idly trace patterns in your skin, running his hands up your spine or your arms.

- his love languages are words of affirmation and quality time

- he definitely calls you “my girl/boy”, or dear. not huge on pet names but will occasionally use them

🌾 john marston

- he’s a little oblivious to his feelings for you, which means you most likely confessed first

- i feel like he first started to really fall for you after the wolf attack, but just never spoke up about his feelings for you until you said something

- he’s also pretty protective of you, he comes off a little more harsh than arthur does but it’s all in good reason

- if there’s ever a situation where someone’s bothering you or even threatening you, john will step in immediately, doing anything and everything he can to scare off whoever’s causing problems

- is not afraid to get into a fight in order to protect you, which has resulted in lots of scolding and a couple more scars for him. he doesn’t mean to scare or worry you, he just cares about you too much to let someone talk bad about you or threaten you in any way

- he’s very touch starved and doesn’t realize it until you get together

- the first time you hug him is when he realizes. it was an awkward hug on his part, but he loved feeling you in his arms

- a lot of his touches are awkward at first, not because he doesn’t like it but because it’s something new to him. he’s unsure about where to put his hands, where he should look, etc

- he starts to get more comfortable with touch as you spend more time with him. eventually he’ll touch you out of habit. a hand resting on the small of your back, or on your thigh while you sit in front of the campfire together. small, innocent touches.

- he loves cuddling at night, and often prefers to be the one being held

- overall he really loves you and cares about you, he wants to be the best he can be for you

- you’ve caught him staring at you from across camp sometimes, a small, affectionate smile on his face

- his love language is words of affirmation.

- he likes pet names and uses them often, his favorite being babe or baby

🌾 javier escuella

- javier is one of the most romantic camp members in my opinion

- he definitely confessed first

- you both liked each other and were quite obvious about it, constantly flirting with one another, but he’s the one who asked you out first

- i like to think he asked you out through a song somehow

- either that or he came up to you, all flirty and asked you out to a night in the town (whichever was nearest to your current camp) , offering you a flower he found while he was out of camp

- plays his guitar for you ofc

- he also totally writes songs and dedicates them to you

- is more than willing to teach you how to play if you ask

- very touchy if you’re okay with it. he always has his hand on you or his arm wrapped around you

- he is very into PDA. he has no problem cuddling and holding you in front of the gang and he definitely does once he knows you’re okay with it

- you two will cuddle up near the campfire together, you sitting in his lap whenever he’s not playing his guitar

- he also loves cuddling before you fall asleep

- after you’ve been together for a bit he’ll invite you to sleep under his tent with him. he feels safe and comfortable with you, quickly falling asleep in your arms

- tells you stories about mexico and his family and life there. he has so many stories and will tell you each and every one

- you’re the one person he trusts to tell more personal stuff, he definitely opens up to you more after a while of being together. not only about his life in mexico but the harder parts of it, the stuff he doesn’t really tell anyone

- likes getting dressed up with you every one in a while and going out to saint denis or other cities, spending nights dancing and drinking together. he loves little dates away from camp

- takes you fishing with him. even if you don’t fish you’re going with him at least once, per his request

- if you like fishing then he’ll take you out on fishing trips often. just the two of you camping out by a lake for a day or two, fishing and spending time with one another

- overall he really loves when you ask him to teach you things because he can see that you take genuine interest in the things he likes. anything from guitar, fishing, to even spanish, he’s always willing to teach if you want to learn.

- uses spanish nicknames for you. hermosa, querida, mi vida, mi amor, cariño, etc. any and every pet name in the book, except in spanish

- he always flirts with you. even after you’ve been together for a while, his flirting never dies down. he’s always complimenting you, no matter what. even if you’re exhausted and dirty from being out on a job he still has a compliment for you.

- gets you a knife similar to his own. he wants you to be able to protect yourself, and he likes having something matching between the two of you <3

- shares his poncho with you if you get cold

- he lets you play with his hair and he’ll let you put it up for him

- he loves kissing you and he’s not shy about it. he’ll kiss you anywhere, anytime, he doesn’t care who sees.

- his love languages are touch and quality time. he just loves being near you

🌾 charles smith

- it took a while for charles to realize his feelings for you and you definitely had to approach him first.

- he’s quiet at first, but will open up to you as you get closer and spend more time with him.

- he’ll tell you everything he knows about his family and the stuff he went through as a kid once he feels comfortable with you

- a great listener. he could listen to you talk for hours, and often does. whether you talk about a job you went on, the chores you did that day, a clothing item or piece of jewelry you saw, or stories from your life, he’ll listen.

- not only will he listen, he’ll remember. he’ll remember every little detail, and often surprises you with the things he remembers.

- there’s lots of comfortable silence between the two of you. you’ll often work side by side without speaking a word but enjoying each other’s company. he could be making some arrows or sharpening the camp axe while you read or finish up a small chore like sewing up a hole in someone’s clothes.

- his love languages are definitely quality time and acts of service.

- he’ll do little things to help you out. he’ll do his own laundry so it doesn’t add to the laundry you already have. he’ll clean your guns and sharpen your knives for you. he’ll brush your horse and braid its mane when you’re busy and haven’t had time to. small things that make a difference.

- definitely teaches you how to hunt and track. you’ll go out with him each time the gang needs food, getting time away from camp which you both enjoy. takes you to all his best hunting spots, teaching you all his little tips and tricks to getting a clean kill.

- he’s not big on PDA and often gets embarrassed if someone sees you kissing or anything.

- he definitely gets used to it the longer you’ve been together, but he prefers to save all that stuff for behind closed doors.

- it’s not like he won’t kiss or hug you in front of anyone else, he just gets a bit flustered

- eventually you’ll move into his tent with him, and once you’re alone he’ll be a lot more physically affectionate

- he also enjoys cuddling. he’s spent a lot of time alone, sleeping in the wilderness by himself before he joined the gang, so sleeping next to you if very comforting to him.

- he doesn’t use a lot of pet names, but his favorite is “my love”.

- although he knows very little about his mother’s culture, he’ll share what he knows with you. he’ll tell you old stories that she told him growing up, and the significance of bison. you showing interest in his culture means a lot to him.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #john marston #john marston x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #charles smith #charles smith x reader #pursuedbyamemory writes

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dotster001 · 1 year ago

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Hiii!!! first, before I start I'm very socially awkward and my English sucks so this might be a bit cringe to read... but I just have to say, I LOVE your writing!!! you have such a cool writing style and your way of writing characters is always in character you're just AWESOME!!!! if it's not too much to ask, can I request a fight between all the dorm and vice-dorm heads (just dorm heads is cool too) when they overhear that the reader/MC has a crush (i simp for all of them)? again, love your writing so much!

Battle Royale

A/N: you have no idea how surprised I was that this wasn't the one voted for the last day. 😂 it's fine though, and I hope you enjoy!

3k follower Masterlist

Trein had held you after class today, and you were a little scared, to say the least. You didn't think you or Grim had done anything wrong today, but you could never be too sure.

Once the last student had left, he looked up at you.

"You've been acting odd lately. I've raised two children, and taught thousands of students, so I know why."

You didn't think you'd been acting odd. But you weren't the most self aware out there, if the numerous overblots you'd nearly missed were anything to go by.

"Oh?" You asked.

He sighed heavily, and gently took your hand.

"You've ingratiated yourself into my heart, like one of my own kids. So I'm going to tell you this; none of the boys at this school is worth the trouble."

"Huh?"

"I don't know which one you have a crush on, but there are less than a handful that deserve the attention."

Your cheeks began to warm, and you gasped. You hadn't thought too deeply about it, but there was definitely someone you'd had your eye on, maybe a bit too much, recently. If Trein had noticed…had he noticed as well?

"I'll uh, I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do," he gave you a firm stare, then turned back to his papers.

You were so out of it, that you didn't notice your two friends who had stayed behind for emotional support.

….

"It's definitely me."

"In what world would it ever be you!"

Trey entered the kitchen to check on the bread in the oven, and sighed to himself as he watched the freshmen fight with each other.

"What are you up to?" He asked.

"Nothin-" Deuce muttered, but was cut off by Ace.

"If Y/N had a crush on someone, it'd be me, right?"

Trey stared at the two, then slowly turned to the oven.

"Where is this coming from?" He asked.

"Trein kept Y/N behind today, and told them whoever they have a crush on isn't worth it."

"Hm. And you both think it's you, because?"

Both of them froze. They could hear the challenge in Trey's voice, and neither of them knew how to approach it.

"Well, why wouldn't it be?" Ace snapped. "We hang out with them more than anyone. If it's anybody, it's me or Deucey."

Trey smiled at the temporary unification of his freshmen, and calmly asked, "Wouldn't it make sense if they went for someone with more life experience? Someone more mature?"

The freshmen were silent again, before Deuce asked, tentatively, "Has…has Y/N said something to you?"

Trey hummed, putting together Riddle's dinner tray.

"No. At least, not verbally."

And then he left the kitchen. He couldn't wipe the soft smile from his face. Riddle noticed it as Trey poured his tea.

"Did something good happen?"

"Hm? Oh, the freshmen found out Y/N had a crush on someone, and assumed it was one of them. I told them it would probably be someone more mature."

Riddle hummed thoughtfully. "True," he sipped his tea, "Y/N would go for someone more mature, who is someone who was also not that much older than them."

"Oh, you think so?" A challenge.

"Yes." A retort.

….

From there, Riddle took his information to the housewardens meeting, who took it to their vicehousewardens, who in turn spread it to the rest of the school.

In less than a couple hours, Malleus and Leona were literally at each other's throats, as the rest of the school egged them on.

"Y/N has more class than to fall for a mangy housecat!" A bolt of green lightning nearly hit Leona, who dodged at the last second.

"They certainly would never fall for a scaly lizard!" The air around Malleus filled with sand.

"Shouldn't we put a stop to this?" Silver asked Lilia, who was busy restraining Sebek.

"Kids will be kids," Lilia laughed in response.

Ruggie tapped Azul on the shoulder, holding out his open hand. "Five thaumarks to join the pot. Who do you think will win?"

Azul smirked, "Neither, because Y/N is surely in love with me. They've all but said so."

"Sure, sure," Ruggie rolled his eyes. "Because out of everyone they could choose, it would be the person who takes 20% of their tips, and not the person who shares home cooked meals with them."

"I couldn't help but overhear your discussion, boys, but don't fool yourselves. The only person Y/N could possibly fall for would be the embodiment of the fairest Queen," Vil hummed as he passed them, fully intent on stopping the fight which was already well out of hand.

But he was halted by a hand on his wrist.

"Schoenheit, don't be a silly boy and embarrass yourself," Lilia hummed, his eyes turning more crimson than fuschia. "Besides," he laughed lightly, going back to playful, "rumor has it, Y/N is in love with someone with life experience, something I have more of than anyone else here."

"Sure," Vil muttered at his peer. He was quickly pulled into the fight when he reached them, purple magic joining the sand and emerald lightning.

Rook was watching the fight with wide eyed enthusiasm. His emerald eyes were taking in everything they did, studying their moves for use at…well…a later date.

Idia's tablet, meanwhile, was focused solely on Rook, the terror practically radiating from it. It was muted, but if it wasn't, people would have heard Ortho hyping him up. But Idia did not want to fight the hunter. Not with the way his eyes were glittering with blood lust.

Jade was about to prevent Floyd from elbow slamming his way into the fight, when all the boys were forcibly separated by an unknown force. All eyes traveled to Trein, who was staring at them all in disgust.

"Animals. The lot of you," he snarled, staring everyone down. "Anyone involved in any way will be punished accordingly."

….

"Why did Professor Trein keep you behind today?" Asked Jack, who was blissfully unaware of the war going on. He had offered to help you study after class, and had been curious as to why he'd beat you to Ramshackle.

"Oh," you hesitated. "Well, he noticed I'd been behaving odd lately, and told me to be careful."

"Y/N's in love, and teach said no one was good enough!"

"Grim!" You cried, burying your face in your hands.

"Oh," Jack said, trying to be as cool as possible. "Who is it?"

You peaked through your fingers, opening and shutting your mouth a few times.

"If you don't tell him, I will," Grim snickered.

"Don't," you whined. You took a steadying breath, and began, "Okay. It's…"

#3k followers #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

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elyrch · 7 months ago

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Choso Kamo Headcanons

a/n: i might as well make a lil sum for my beautiful amazing husband 💜

he's so sweet w you... big hands running up and down your back while you sleep, getting you a treat from the store, helping you choose what clothes to wear when you go out. he likes doing the little things for you, mostly.

whenever he has the choice of doing something with his friends or doing something with you, he mostly does something with you. he likes sitting with you, playing games with you, cuddling you, or just being in the same room and not even doing anything together. he's also a great listener, if youre the kind of person who talks a lot, but be warned- he may or may not zone out while staring at you with the most lovesick eyes.

often, he does his best to make you feel loved and safe. he doesn't want anyone making you feel nervous, since it's likely that he may be able to protect you from them, and most of the people who are stronger than him could protect you too, just because they're close with choso and want to see him happy.

if you're not feeling loved, on the other hand, it's the end of the world. he feels terrible, and he does everything possible to make you feel better. he has to prevent himself from crying a little if he hears you're sad. he does anything he can- buying flowers, cooking for you, cuddling you, kissing your head, and getting you a little present (such as a keychain or teddy bear) and hopes that you'd feel better soon.

at first, he was pretty awkward with dating you- what if he messed something up???- so you'd have to help him become okay with it all. he especially likes just sitting in the same room as you, while you read or play video games, and he can pretend- badly, might i add- to do whatever while he really watches you. he loves watching you do stuff that makes you happy, not in a creepy way, he just wants to see you smile.

whenever you can get him to sleep, this boy SLEEPS. he might be a curse, but he is tired. please cuddle him to sleep, to make sure he'll get enough rest. he feels safest with you, his arms around you, nose either buried in the nape of your neck or his chin on your head.

i know this one's shorter than usual, but i really wanted to get it out asap! i hope you enjoy!

#choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x y/n #choso my beloved #choso fluff #choso headcanon

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dr0wning-in-hell · 1 year ago

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Awkward Situation- Alex Summers

Summary: You had originally gone to Alex's room for some help on some homework but finds herself in a completely different situation.

Word Count: 3.3k+

Warnings: smutttt, cursing, p-in-v, oral (m), throat fucking, fingering, sexy talkkkkk, fluff

Pairing/Characters: Alex Summers x mutant!reader

Prompt: "Hello there unlucky angel! I just read one of your X men works and wanted to make a request! Could I plz have an Alex Summers x Reader with the prompt - 88. “Did you just… finish?” (Also could you put it under the alex summers x reader tag plz?) TYSM!!!😍" - anon / “ if you still are writing for alex summers, could you do one using prompts: 88, 90, and 96 “- anon (90- “Get on your knees. Now.” 96- “Do you know how bad I want you?”)

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I know I say that a lot but life is busy. I figured combining these two requests would help speed things up a bit. I feel like my boy Alex should’ve gotten more screen time:( anyways hope you enjoy you horny bastards.

new masterlist| prompt list | buy me a ko-fi!!

Y/N and Alex had a weird relationship. One minute they’re flirting up a storm, the sexual tension is high and you’d think that they’re gonna fuck right then and there, and the next minute it’s so awkward you just want to gauge your eyes out. That’s how it had been between the two since they arrived at the school for mutants.

Y/N had never been afraid of Alex, unlike the rest of the new comers who thought his power was overly destructive, she never felt that way. His plasma beams were terrifying if you didn’t understand them, but Y/N understood them just fine. Her own mutant abilities included her being able to absorb radiation, whether chemical or something like Alex’s plasma beams, which made it easy for the two of them to start their friendship.

Alex had certain feelings for Y/N since the day they met, but never wanted to tell anyone or even her just incase she didn’t feel the same way or a rumor started and embarrassed both of them. He’d spend his days thinking about what it would be like if she were his, what dates he could plan for the two of them, what their first kiss would be like. Alex was head over heels for this girl but was too scared to say anything. The boy would watch her from his window as she sat outside in the courtyard with her friends, studying and laughing. He like to watch her laugh, the way she smiled. It made his heart warm and fuzzy.

Y/N was the same way, watching him outside with his brother or Hank, whether it was just him taking a leisurely walk or training, she was watching him. Obviously neither one of them knew that the other was watching, there were to oblivious to the fact that they both held feelings for one another. With as much tension that the two held between them, you’d think at least one of them would catch on eventually.

That was not the case though.

It wasn’t until one evening that Y/N had decided she wanted to spend some time to herself, read a book and chill in her room. The only catch was that the book she wanted to read was currently in Alex’s room since she had let him borrow it. Did he ever actually read it? No, it was just an excuse to see her.

Putting on her fuzzy slippers, Y/N slipped out of her room and walked the hallways till she reached Alex’s room. Since he wasn’t a student, but not entirely a teacher either, he had his own room on the same level as most of the older students. As Y/N went to knock on his door she heard strange noises coming from inside the room, it sounded like moaning maybe? She wasn’t quite sure, but if that’s what it was then she didn’t want to interrupt, that would be extremely awkward. Y/N was about to walk away, give her friend his privacy, but when she heard him moan her name? She stopped dead in her tracks and couldn’t help but listen. He must’ve just been finishing from the sounds of it, which is why when she tripped over own two feet and made so much noise had he ended up opening the door.

Alex stood there, covered in a small coat of sweat, breathing heavily with his hair stuck to his skin. Before Y/N even realized what she was saying, the words were already coming out of her mouth. “Did you just... finish?” Not only were her cheeks burning from that question coming out so quickly, but she felt hot all over with a racing heartbeat, it felt like she had just run a mile. Just as Y/N was about to walk away and end this awkward situation until she felt Alex’s hand grab her wrist and pull her into his room. It smelled of stale air and just slightly of cologne.

“How much did you hear?” He sounded out of breathe and a little worried.

Y/N gulped slowly as her brain rushed with an excuse to make it seem like she hadn’t just heard him moan her name as he was jerking off. “I- uhm, I heard enough.” She refused to look him in the eyes now, it was just too weird. They were best friends.

Best friends who both had feelings for the other but was too scared to admit it.

“You’re lying.” Alex had now backed her up against the door. When did he even close that? Y/N’s back pressed against the door, Alex looming a little too close for the situation at hand. He wanted her to admit that she had heard him, that she heard him say her name. “Do you know how bad I want you?” His lips felt like they were just centimeters away from hers, she could practically taste him already.

Y/N’s breathe hitched in her throat as she tried to make sense of what she just heard. She wasn’t hallucinating, was she? Alex really did just say that? Without another thought Y/N pushed herself off the door just enough to press her lips to his, finally connecting the two of them in a way that they had only dreamt of. Alex didn’t hesitate to pull her closer to him, his hands finding purchase on her lower back as he kissed her back. Their lips melded together, like they knew that’s where they were supposed to end up all along.

The kiss heated up quickly, their tongues dancing with the other as they explored the other’s mouth. Alex could taste her tea that she drinks at night, a bit of honey mixed in, while she could taste his cinnamon gum he had chewed on after dinner. It felt like forever before they had pulled away from each other, panting softly as they tried to compose themselves.

Alex couldn’t help but move uncomfortably as he held Y/N, his hard on pressing firmly against Y/N’s thigh through his jeans. “Get on your knees. Now.” She did so without any question, falling to her knees in front of him with big doe eyes looking back up at him. She watched as he roughly pulled his sweatpants down, his boxers following shortly after. Y/N’s mouth went dry as she took in the size of his length. He was long and veiny, with a good few inches for girth. Alex watched with lidded eyes as Y/N moved her hands to his length, a bit of hesitancy lingering in her thoughts.

“Can I touch it?” Y/N didn’t dare to look up at Alex, she felt like a virgin seeing a dick for the first time again. The boy chuckled above her and nodded. Slowly Y/N wrapped her hands around his cock, using both of them to create friction against his aching length. She watched as pre-cum began to build up at the tip, to which she moved the pads of her thumb over the tip and rubbed it across the slit. Alex sucked in a breathe at the sensation, every fiber of his body going rigid as he let her play with his dick. After a moment of teasing him she got the the good stuff, moving her head forward and sucking the tip into her mouth and then ever so slowly inching it down her throat.

Alex felt like he was going to bust just at that alone, the feeling of her soft lips, her warm tongue lapping at the underside of his cock? It was an experience he never wanted to end. Though he wanted to start bucking his hips at his own pace, her throat like a fuck toy, he knew he couldn’t do that to her... yet. Y/N looked up at him through her lashes, eyes big as her mouth and throat were now completely stuff with his cock. She watched as his eyebrows knitted together once she started moving her head up and down, her tongue running against the underside of his cock and then to the tip when she’d come back up. Alex couldn’t help but thread his hands through her hair and help guide her movements, though it seemed as if she knew exactly what to do to get him to fall apart.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Alex grunted with his head tipping back in pleasure. He could feel her grin against his crotch, ever so pleased with being able to make the boy above her fall apart so quickly. His hips began to move on their own accord, thrusting in unison to match with her head bobbing up and down. She liked where she was at, seated underneath him and turning him to putty in her hands. Once she realized he was holding back she moved one of her hands onto his, squeezing it as a sign of trying to tell him to use her like he was wanting to.

When Alex didn’t get the hint she took into her own hands and shoved his cock all the way down her throat, gagging slightly but not letting it stop her from holding him in place. That’s when he realized what she was saying without actually saying it. Finally letting himself go he thrusted rapidly into her mouth, his tip pushing past the back of her mouth every time. In no time he had her drooling and gurgling around his cock, face fucked with red cheeks and teary eyes. It was truly a magnificent sight, seeing the girl he had been dreaming about forever sitting prettily on her knees for him.

Y/N let him use her face, her stomach tightening knowing that he was getting off on this and so was she. Her pussy constricted against nothing, the occasional rub of her panties and sleepwear against her clit causing her to moan against Alex’s cock. She desperately needed friction, anything to relieve the building ache in her core. Reaching between her thighs she pressed two fingers against her clothed clit, rubbing in tight circles to feel that spark of tension finally released. The moan she had let out caused Alex to look down at where her hand was at, the sight causing him to cum in her mouth without any warning. Y/N gagged at first, a bit surprised but then let the salty fluid fall onto her tongue.

When Alex was done cumming down her throat he pulled out of her mouth and watched as she stuck her tongue out to show it to him, then pull the muscle back into her mouth swallow it, then show him her now empty mouth. Alex was hard again in no time, rushing to pull Y/N to her feet and ripping her sleepwear off of her. It didn’t take long for them both to be completely bare in front of each other, their bodies hot and covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Need to be in you, gonna fuck you so dumb you can’t even remember your own name.” Alex watched her legs rub together at his words, smirking to himself knowing that she need to feel him against her in any way possible. Without having to be instructed Y/N went and laid on the bed, sprawling herself in the sexiest way possible. If Alex wasn’t riled up already, he sure was now. “Think you need to be prepped a bit first, don’t want you hurting.”

Alex moved between her legs, spreading them impossibly wide to get a look at the pussy presented to him. She was glistening, her slick nearly dripping down her hold and to the sheets. Alex rubbed her clit first, creating some stimulation before he inserted his pointer finger to get her started.

The initial feeling of him touching her in her most private area had her eyes closing tightly, her hole clenching aimlessly. The feeling of his finger being inserted into her was already making her head fuzzy, her body accepting the intrusion quickly. Alex started with slow thrusts of his finger, making sure he felt every inch of her velvety walls. After a a minute or so of getting her used to one finger he added a second finger, watching her closely to make sure she wasn’t in any pain.

Y/N moaned a bit too loudly, instantly silencing herself by biting the inside of her cheek. Alex looked up to see her struggling to keep herself quiet. “So loud already, wonder what you’ll sound like with my cock in you.” Everything Alex was saying was making Y/N wetter by the second, surely dripping onto his sheets by now. Alex moved his fingers skillfully, scissoring them to stretch her opening as much as possible.

“Alex please,” Y/N whimpered, “I can take it.” Could she really? She was about to find out. The blonde looked up at her, eyebrows raised at her.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or feel any pain.” Y/N let out a quick squeak of a ‘yes’ before she began to frantically nod her head. Alex chuckled before reaching into his side table drawers and scavenging for a condom. Once his fingertips brushed the plastic packaging he pulled it out and began to open it. Y/N waited patiently, though she was ready to pounce on him at any second from the anticipation, she didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Alex moved himself back between her legs, being sure to run his hands up her thighs just to tease her more than he already was. She let out a whine of protest when he caressed her skin, her hips moving forwards as she tried to find any sort of friction or relief.

“Let me know if you feel any pain, okay?” Alex was slowly stroking himself as he nudged the tip against her opening, her juices instantly soaking the condom as he began to push into her. The gasp they both let out as they felt one another for the first time was a feeling neither of them wanted to end. Alex pushed more of himself into Y/N’s cunt, watching as she swallowed all of him up so easily. His eyes shut for a moment as he tried to calm his breathing, feeling as if he would bust the second he started to move.

Letting out a shaky breathe he began to slowly move his hips, creating a steady pace to start out with. His hands were grasping Y/N’s hips, using them as leverage to thrust himself into her.

“Can- can you go faster?” Y/N gasped, her mouth hanging in a small ‘o’ shape as he body already began to shake. “Please, want you to go faster.” She looked up at the blonde with her pupils blown wide. The sight made his heart skip a beat, but his brain had no problem with working faster than he could comprehend. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he began to pound himself into her faster.

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from letting out such a loud moan, her hands going down and grasping Alex’s wrists in pleasure. The faster pace had caused him to bury himself even deeper into her, hitting places inside her she didn’t know someone could touch. Alex grunted as he watched how blissed out the girl beneath him was. He was still in a bit of shock that he was fucking the girl he’s loved for so long now, it was like a dream and never wanted to wake up from it.

Alex moved himself a bit, getting closer to Y/N as he pushed her knees to her chest and practically folded her in half. His cock was nestled deep inside her, still and throbbing against her velvety walls. “You feel so good,” Alex panted as he leaned down to kiss Y/N, their skin sticking together as they molded together. “Just wanna stay inside you forever,” He grunted as he began his brutal pace again, now putting more weight down on her body as he continuously slammed his hips against her ass cheeks.

Y/N’s hands went from his wrists then up his arms, groping his biceps before they fell to her knees as she held her hands on top of his. Alex managed to intertwine his fingers with hers, holding her hands tightly as he moved in and out of her clenching walls. He felt so deep inside her she swore she was just going to be ripped in half by him. Not only was his cock brushing against that spongey spot inside her, but the sheer weight of him pressing on top of her body made her melt into the bed.

Alex’s thrusts grew in speed as the two mutants began to reach their climaxes, their bodies covered in sweat with small beads falling onto the bedding and soaking the sheets in more ways than one. He watched the way Y/N’s face scrunched up with each thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock pushing itself against her cervix in the most painfully delicious way possible.

“Alex,” Y/N whined, her nails digging into the flesh of his hand, “I think I’m gonna cum,” Her little whines and gasps spurred Alex on, though he felt like he was about to cum as well, he wanted her to cum first.

As if it were even possible, Alex pushed himself so incredibly deep into Y/N’s soaking pussy, his balls nestled nicely against her ass cheeks. The feeling of him so deep inside of her and twitching with every movement was the final straw for Y/N. She came undone on his dick, her hips jerking slightly as she clawed at his hands. It didn’t take too long before Alex was cumming into the condom, the feeling of Y/N’s walls clenching so tightly around his cock had him nearing his end as well.

Alex leaned down, wrapping Y/N’s legs around his torso as he pressed his body against hers. HIs forehead stuck to her skin, his hair a mess as it clung to him. The pair breathed heavily, relishing in the final moments of their ecstasy. He placed a soft kiss against her lips before he pulled himself away, gently easing his cock out of her abused cunt and discarding the condom into the trash bin.

“That was unexpected.” Y/N finally said once the cloudiness had left her brain and Alex was laid next to her. He chuckled at her but nodded. “It was really good though, like really good.” Y/N chuckled to herself as Alex rolled his eyes playfully at her not so over exaggeration.

Alex pulled the girl against his side, tucking her head under his chin softly. “I hope you know I don’t want this to be a one time thing, I want to take you out on a proper date and treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” Alex was starting to nervously ramble, so to ease his nerves Y/N kissed him softly. Luckily, it shut him up.

“I’d love to go on a date later on, but right now I just wanna cuddle.” She snuggled back into his side, her hands laying against his chest. Alex smiled to himself, his arms falling around her body as he held her.

If this was a dream he never wanted to wake up.

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