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amyispxnk · 8 months ago

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Grease and sweat

Summary - Another day, another venture out of the walls of the Boston QZ with Joel Miller. AKA, another day spent fantasizing about the burly man whom you spend most of your time with these days. When the two of you have to hole up for the night, things get a little heated, and you finally snap.

A/N: i started this oneshot like 6 months ago and finally found some random motivation today to finish it. and im not gonna spoil anything but like.. why has noone talked about this in a fic before? im literally salivating when he does this during the game and like.. yeah. idk. you’ll see.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT!! (oral f!receiving, unprotected PiV sex - don’t do this, especially during an apocalypse!, mentions of masturbation, lewd thoughts), language, age gap (roughly 15 years), firearms, pet names, fluff, aftercare

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“The fuck’re you lookin’ at, kid?” Joel practically spat, having noticed the way you were eyeing him whilst he worked.

You scoffed, walking up to the workbench he was currently using. Kid. You weren’t a kid. Sure, you were almost 15 years younger than him, but you certainly weren’t a kid.

“I’m 34, Joel. Not a kid.” You argued, leaning on the wall and watching him work.

He just grunted in response before resuming what he was doing before, starting with cleaning his pistol.

His fingers danced along the metal, digging into certain bits with the old rag he used to get any grime out, before he used the screwdriver to make a few adjustments to the handgun.

You never really understood how to do all the fancy things he did with his weapons, and you probably should considering how intently you watched him whenever the pair of you came across one of these old benches - but you couldn’t focus on the guns which were in his hands. His big, strong, rough hands. You’d trade places with those guns just to feel his hands on you like that. He took so much care of the damn things too, like they were the most precious things in his life. Always cleaning and repairing them like this, practically never letting you touch them.. What did those guns have that you didn’t? You thought to yourself as you watched him, gaze drifting to his fingers in particular. The ones you’d dreamt about far too many times, the ones you’d imagined inside of yourself rather than your own when you touched yourself. It was the way they moved, how thick they were, and how the veins in his hands and muscles flexed when he gripped his bow, and the way his arms would shine with his sweat as he worked. You’d lick the sweat off his body if he asked you to. Depraved as it sounds.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

Your absolutely maddening desire for and sickening crush on the man whom you knew close to nothing about. Just his name and a few things he revealed to you when the night was particularly long or the whisky he was having took a toll on his judgement, loosening him up for once. You knew where he was from, what his job was before, and you knew that he was basically just a grumpy old asshole who was only good for beating up guys when you went on supply runs.

He had never been overly kind to you, not that you needed it, had never asked you any questions, didn’t make small talk, and was a ruthless murderer.

You loved every single thing about him.

And you wanted to show him. You wanted him to love you back, no matter how he’d love you. You wouldn’t mind if he was a cold lover, a mean one - hell, he almost definitely was - you’d take him any way you could get him.

You looked back at his hands once more, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when he had to use his ring and middle fingers to clean out part of another gun, your thighs clenching together as you felt the all-too-familiar wetness start to form between them and making you groan when you realised you’d probably have to rub one out when you got back later. It was honestly annoying the amount of times you came by your own hand, his name on your lips, because you knew how much better it would feel if it was his thick fingers pushing into you, his big hands palming your breasts, his strong arms holding you down as he made you come over and over…

“Let’s get goin’.” He says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts as he tucks his gun away and slings his backpack on.

You push yourself off of the wall and follow him quickly, trying not to look flustered although you very much felt it.

He came to an abrupt stop when you reached your normal exit from this little pitstop en route to the guys who gave you weapons, and you almost walked face-first into his back.

“Joel? Wha-” you began, but he cut you off.

“This shouldn’t be closed.” He murmurs, like he’s talking to himself, not allowing you any time to respond before he’s going over to pull the chain which should open the garage door.

It doesn’t.

No matter how much he pulls on the metal, grunting and groaning and making your eyes flutter shut whilst you force your needy whimpers down with the noises he’s making, it barely opens, slamming shut every time he gets close to getting it open a quarter of the way.

“Fuck.” He grits, giving up and slamming his hand against the thing. It would be no use trying with that door anymore, the noise it was making was getting too loud anyway.

He stands there, clearly thinking hard about what to do. You can’t turn back because that would just lead you straight back to the QZ, which was useless to you right now, but you don’t have any other secured ways to get to your vendors - how could he have been so stupid to not plan ahead, he ridicules himself silently.

“Joel? What’s the plan?” You ask, getting slightly impatient with his constant silence. He may have been this hot brooding older man, but he could really leave you in the dark sometimes like this.

“Will you let me think, goddamnit?” He responds, clearly annoyed with your current predicament, scratching at his jaw before looking back up at you.

“Could try that window.” You suggest quietly, looking upwards. It was high and small, but you’d be able to get through it if he gave you a boost up.

He gave you a small nod before you both made your way up there and he got into position, hands outstretched and placed together as you got on and pushed yourself up. Normally, whenever he did this, you’d feel all dizzy afterwards from the proximity and his touch - but as soon as you looked out the window you were horrified. There were infected, just past the jammed door - and a whole lot of them. You weren’t getting past that. Forget the deal, you’d come back another day.

“Joel.” You say, not even realising you were whispering. He doesn’t answer.

“Joel! Joel, get me down.” You whisper-shout, and he furrows his brows.

“Why? What’s the matter?” He asks, and you have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes.

“Just get me down.” You say through clenched teeth, taking another look outside the window before he carefully lowers you. Of course, he boosts you up regularly, but he rarely ever tries to get you back down, so you stumble a bit and end up with your face against his chest as he falls back onto the wall slightly.

“Jesus, woman!” He grunts, but you don’t even try to move, you just look up at him with those fucking doe eyes of yours and it takes everything in him to not groan at the sight of you. God knows how many times he’s imagined you looking up at him whilst you sucked his cock, knelt on the floor with tears in your eyes and your hair all messy for him with your big eyes staring into his.

You open your mouth to speak, before realising the position you’re in and quickly standing up.

“I- there were infected outside, Joel.” You explain after a moment.

“So?” He questions you, squinting in confusion slightly. You’ve taken down infected before, no problem. What’s the issue today?

“No, like- I swear it looked like there were a hundred of them. Just this big fucking horde, right outside the garage door.” You gestured back towards the exit.

He clenched his jaw. Yeah, okay, you could take down some infected, not a hundred.

“Y’sure?”

“I’m fucking sure, Joel!” You almost yelled, way too many emotions going on in your body for you to act normal right now.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He looked back outside. It was almost dark, there was no way you could get back to Boston in time now. It just wasn’t safe to go that far so late, and there was no point since you’d have to sneak by all the guards - who hopefully wouldn’t notice if you were gone for one night - to get back in.

“Go check all the doors, lock ‘em and then barricade ‘em. We’re gonna have to hold up here for tonight, then go back at dawn.” He decides, and you gape at him like a fish.

“We’re staying here?! Joel, what about curfew and the- the fucking infected right outside-” you start, but he silences you once again.

“We’re gonna be fine. When have things ever gone wrong for us since you started comin’ out with me?” He questions sternly, and you ponder it.

Never, really. He always saved you, and you’d save him when he needed it - even though it was only a handful of times he did.

“‘Kay, fine. Whatever.” You mumble stubbornly before turning round to go secure the doors leading to the small mechanic store you’d be staying in.

He looks around himself for any openings and closes them up before you both end up back in the main room.

It’s mostly silent as you look around at different things, poking at the ruined cars and whatnot whilst he sits on a crate and watches you as discreetly as possible.

“I have a question.” You say, turning to face him and making him snap his head away from you before you notice he was looking at you already.

He grunts to tell you to continue speaking, looking back at you when you do.

“Could you like.. show me how to fix up my guns and stuff? ‘Cause you always do it for me and I just thought it was.. Cool.” you murmur, trailing off at the end.

He actually lets out a small laugh at that. Not in a mean way, necessarily, just kind of teasingly.

“Cool?” He repeats with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, cool. It just- with all the attachments and shit. And I can never clean them properly.” You sigh, walking up closer to him. “Please? We’ve got nothing else to do.”

The sound of you saying please for him in that small voice wins him over. “Fine.” He gets up off the crate, walking back over to the workbench and flicking the light on before taking your gun from you. He talks you through it, shows you a little how to clean it before letting you try it yourself, and then he shows you how to add a scope to it. You can’t quite grasp it though, not being strong and precise enough to attach it properly, so he places his hands on top of yours and helps you screw it on.

The contact makes you shudder so violently that he definitely felt it, and you want to crumple into the ground.

“What was that for?” He murmurs, and you almost jump at how close he is now, voice loud and breath hot on the side of your face as he leans over your shoulder to look at the gun whilst he tries to help you.

“No-nothing.” You squeak, breathing at least ten times faster now.

He feels it. He knows. He has to know, you’d been so stupid and revealed it all now. Joel Miller was not an idiot and he knew how you felt and he’d hate you for it. Your thoughts spiralled.

“Nothin’, huh?” He taunts, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you slowly crumble. To make it worse, he turns you in his hold, so you’re pinned with your back to the desk and his hands on either side of you.

“Y’alright, darlin’? You look awfully hot. Don’t got a fever or nothin’?” He mumbles, seeing how far he can push you as he leans in closer.

“I-I’m fine.” You say quietly, mesmerised by the sight of his face so close as you notice little details you’d never noticed before, barely even realising his lips are so close to your own until he’s pressing them to yours.

You make a slight noise of surprise before you get lost in it. The feeling of his lips against yours was something you’d dreamed about for so long, and now it was finally happening.

Your hands come up and around his neck, pulling him closer towards you as he deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and overpowering you immediately as he pushes you back onto the workbench, sitting you on top of it and already working open the buttons of your jeans.

He kisses you one more time before getting to his knees and pulling your pants completely off, eyeing your panties, a dark patch in the middle of them from your growing arousal.

“Joel, please.” You whimper from above him as his hands run up your legs, coming to your inner thighs before toying with the elastic of your panties.

“Y’need me here, darlin’?” He asks, smirking up at you as his fingers move to rub slow circles into your clit through the fabric.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the contact, needy and desperate for him by this point. “Yes, please- please Joel.” You’re reduced to begging already, something you figure only he had the power to make you do.

He shushes you gently, fingers slowly peeling your panties down and groaning at the sight of your bare cunt, dripping and pulsing with need.

“Fuck, baby. Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin’ wet. This all for me?” He hums, dragging a finger up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on it and sucking it into his mouth as he looks up at you.

You whine at the sight of him between your legs like this, not knowing how you’re going to survive when he actually makes contact with you, and nod furiously.

“Yes, oh my god. Yes, it’s all for you Joel.” You say quickly, and he seems satisfied with that answer, finally moving his face to your core and making you squirm as his hot breath fans over your pussy.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’.” He murmurs, seemingly enraptured by the sight of you, staring for a few seconds and making you want to shift away again under his intense gaze, but he has an arm on you to make sure you don’t move.

And then he finally, finally, licks a long stripe up your pussy, tongue running along your wet folds. And you fucking lose it.

“Oh my god, Joel, please. Fuck- fuck, please, more-” you start begging, moaning loudly as he picks up the pace and continues to devour you, drinking down your wetness, and eventually kissing and sucking at your clit. His fingers, those thick gorgeous fingers you’d dreamed of for so long, tease your entrance before he’s pushing those inside, making you wail at the feeling of something inside of you, getting you closer to that release you were aching for by this point.

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out, thighs shaking slightly as you feel yourself getting close.

“That’s right, baby. You like that?” He asks, voice an octave lower as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, tongue still working you over relentlessly.

“Please- it feels so good-” you whine in response, fingers grasping for something to hold onto, to tether yourself to earth with as you feel yourself start to float away. Finding his hair and tugging slightly which makes him groan.

“Good girl.” He praises, adding another finger. He curls his fingers, searching for your g-spot and finding it easily.

You moan weakly at the praise, hips bucking as you grind yourself against his mouth, the ridge of his nose stimulating your clit perfectly as your fingers pull at his hair, and before you know it, you’re coming with a hoarse scream of his name.

You see white as your thighs quiver around his head, tensing and squeezing slightly as he continues to work you through it, lapping at your juices until you cry out from the overstimulation.

He removes his fingers from your hole, licking them clean once more before standing up and removing his own clothes, revealing his hard cock and making your eyes widen slightly.

Of course he was big, you’d stared at the bulge of his jeans enough times to realise that, and you’d imagined it before, but it all paled in comparison to finally seeing it.

He was long, slightly curved, girthy with a flushed red tip which had precome leaking out of it as he pumped himself slowly with a smirk on his face.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?” He hums teasingly, and you can’t even think straight anymore, just pulling him forward and kissing him hungrily as he positioned his cock at your slick entrance.

Needy little whines and whimpers flowed freely from your mouth straight into his, where he swallowed them whole before starting to push into you.

You part from the kiss suddenly, gasping as he pushes deeper and deeper, stretching you thoroughly, and you feel grateful that he has the decency to start off slow since you already feel like crying from how big he is, how fucking good it feels.

When he bottoms out, you’re already wrecked. He’s huge inside of you, and you can feel everything. Every single ridge, vein, and twitch of his pulsing cock as your walls hug him tightly.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs softly, making your heart swell at how tender he sounds right now, and you nod in response.

“Joel.. please move.” You whisper, and he complies, grabbing your hips and barely giving you a moment to think before he’s starting to pound into you, making you squeal as your arms came around his neck, nails digging into his back before his head ducks down into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse point and making you clench harder around him, before moving down to your breasts, palming them and taking one of your nipples into his mouth as you scream his name.

“Joel! I’m gonna- gonna come- oh god, please!” You cry out, back arching. He growls, picking up the pace. He could feel his orgasm building, but he needed you to come first, needed to feel your tight walls clenching and gushing around him before he even considered his own pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more and I’ll fill you up. Fuck this little cunt full of me.. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He says, voice low and husky as his balls slap against your ass, the loud sound of your wetness filling the room as you start to tremble once more.

“Yes! Fuck, Joel. Need it so bad. Want your come inside of me. Please, Joel.” You gasp, making him groan as his fingers move down to rub at your clit.

“Come for me, baby.” He encourages, speeding up even more and hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, making you scream as you come and dissolve into a shaking, whimpering mess whilst he continues to thrust into you.

“That’s it, darlin’. Come all over my cock.” He grunts, his own release approaching quickly. The sounds of your moans and cries are enough to set him off, barely thrusting a few more times before stilling and filling you with his hot seed, slowly fucking it even deeper inside of you before pulling out and looking at you.

Skin flushed, panting heavily, come leaking down your thighs. You looked perfect. He wished that cameras were still around so he could take a picture of how you looked right now, keep it in his pocket wherever he went. But he couldn’t, and he realised you probably needed cleaning up now as your hazy eyes blinked open and looked at him. You were quiet, thinking about what this meant for the two of you now. Would he go back to being the cold man you knew? Would he be even colder? Would he suddenly be attentive and caring towards you?

You supposed you got your answer when he gently cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he looked at you with something scarily close to love in his eyes, the gaze he’d somehow managed to conceal from you all these months which he could now finally show you.

“You okay?” He murmurs, and you nod weakly in response. He hums, giving you another small kiss before walking off to go get a rag to clean you up with.

“Hold on, let me just..” he mumbles to himself as he goes to try clean off any dust from the rag, before returning to between your thighs and cleaning away any evidence of your previous activities, tossing the rag somewhere and handing you your clothes. You get dressed quietly before he takes your hand and leads you over to a space on the floor where you set up your sleeping bags, putting them as close together as possible until he eventually just lets you tuck yourself into his, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and falling asleep.

You listen to his soft snores, feel his calloused hands on your stomach where they snaked under your shirt before he fell asleep, and smile to yourself softly before falling asleep with him.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and my requests are open 💞

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miley1442111 · 7 months ago

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all alone-s.reid

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summary: spencer doesn't want to get hurt, too bad it hurts you in the process

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: spencer's a dick in this, reader puts him in his place :)

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You were the new office genius. You’d just joined straight out of the academy, but with your genius, and your experience, you’d been brought straight to the BAU.

What experience, you may ask?

Your psychiatry and psychology degrees, oh, and the eidetic memory, IQ of 190, and Hyperthymesia you had.

And the experience you’d had with a certain serial killer. Your father, Jason O’Neill, had been caught a few months ago, and after that you’d been given a full-time position. You got on well with the team, though one clearly didn’t like you. Dr. Spencer Reid. Apparently he was your equal in intelligence, though you never knew, he refused to speak to you. You probably had a more bubbly personality than the BAU regularly hired, but that had been disproven upon meeting Penelope, the Technical Analyst.

He just didn’t like you. Oh well. It wasn’t going to ruin your life. You didn’t really give a shit.

He gave a shit. He cared far too much.

“Spencer, I’ve got your coffee, extra sugar,” you smiled as you handed out the drinks you’d brought the team from the cafe down the road from the small police station. You handed it to him, not waiting for an answer, he never gave one.

Emily kicked him under the table. “What’s with you two?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and went back to his book. “Nothing.”

“She’s the nicest person on this team Spencer, yet you treat her like she’s just there for decoration.”

“She’s only good for two things, getting coffee, and keeping quiet,” he snapped, not realising you were behind him. You frowned, then hit him over the head with your bag as you were walking past, not sparing him a glance.

Honestly, Spencer was practically in love with you since the second he’d met you. You were perfect, gorgeous smile, always something kind to say, always an interesting fact on your beautiful lips. He thought he could listen to you talk forever. Your voice made his day. Your eyes on his made him feel things he never thought he’d be lucky enough to feel.

But he’d never let his guard down again. Not after Maeve. Never again.

He’d rather be alone, though everyday you became more tempting.

Everyday he wished he could be with you.

Everyday, just like today.

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“Doctor,” Your voice rang through the precinct. “Aaron wants you.”

In recent weeks you’d adopted calling him ‘Doctor’, rather than Spencer. His name from your lips often went straight to his heart, he was a romantic, after all. Now ‘Doctor’ sounded clinical and impersonal. It was maddening.

He didn’t answer, he just stared at his book, making his stand.

“Doctor Reid, Aaron wants you,” You stated, standing beside him. “Reid-”

“Say my name,” he deadpanned, staring at his book, but not reading the words.

“I just did,” you scoffed. “We aren’t school children, go to Aaron.’

You called everyone else by their first name, why not him? He knew the answer of course, but it still didn’t take away from his curiosity. Why had it affected you so much?

“Can you stop being a huge asshole for one day and just treat me like I’m a person and not just something here for you to fuck with? I deserve a spot on this team just like you do,” you boomed, smacking his book out of his hands.

“I don’t think you do,” he said, standing up to his full height.

“Well I guess it’s your lucky day because I’m leaving in a week,” you snarled back, then walked off to go back to the rest of the team.

What? You were leaving?

Spencer caught up to you in 4 quick steps and he pulled you to the side of the corridor, shading you both from prying eyes in a broom closet. “You’re leaving?”

His eyes were frantic and… scared? You’d never seen him look at you with anything other than indifference, so this was quite the change.

“Yes.”

“Why?” He pleaded.

“Why? You are seriously asking why I’m leaving?” you sarcastically sighed. “Gosh, I guess it was that the coffee’s shit, or maybe it was the fact that I work in a hostile working environment!”

“That’s corporate bullshit-”

“No. It’s your bullshit. I have been nothing but kind to you in my few months here and every day it’s the same blank stare and shitty comments. Go fuck yourself Doctor Reid.”

You tried to pry out of the grip he had on your shoulders, but you couldn’t. He stood there, shocked and shameful at his actions.

“I-I’m sorry,” he sighed, letting go of you to run his hands through his hair. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are. Now if you’ll excuse me-”

“I’m in love with you,” he admitted.

“Pardon?” You squeaked, jaw-dropped.

“I’m in love with you… a-and I didn’t think it was a good idea because the last time I was involved with someone like that-”

“Spencer, I don’t care. I’m leaving the BAU. For good.”

Spencer’s stomach sank. He was too late. You waited for a minute as he just stared at you. He was trying to process it, realise his mistakes,and find a way to make you stay in a 15 second window.

“Bye Spencer,” you sighed and left him in that broom closet.

All alone.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #bau team #spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds

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puckstories · 10 days ago

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Arrogant | Jack Hughes

Pairing; Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Suggestive (kissing), cursing, Jack slander (?), edited only once.

Summary; Reader can't stand Jack Hughes, but the sex is too good to throw away.

Word Count; 1.5k

Author’s note; Just a little blurb to dip my feet into the water of writing for Jack Hughes, also a little different than how I normally write. Will write a part two if requested, otherwise, I hope you enjoyed! As per usual, any thoughts + reblogs are appreciated (: -Honey

Jack Hughes was the absolute worst, and if you had any shred of self-respect left, you’d stop answering his texts at two in the morning, let alone opening the door when you knew it was him knocking. Every time you saw his name flash on your screen, you told yourself it would be the last time. The last time you’d get tangled up in whatever this was, the last time you’d let him worm his way into your night with that smug smirk of his. But then your phone would light up again, that familiar ding piercing the quiet of your room, and against your better judgment, you’d find yourself reaching for it.

You couldn’t stand him, honestly. The way he walked around like he was the king of New Jersey, all swagger and arrogance, thinking that just because he was good at hockey, he was somehow above everyone else. He had that cocky, self-assured grin that made you want to roll your eyes every time you saw it, and the way he carried himself—like the world owed him something—was infuriating.

Jack Hughes was infuriating. Plain and simple. He acted like the universe revolved around him, as if the rest of the world was just background noise, something to fill the gaps between his big moments on the ice. He was loud, brash, and so fucking egotistical that sometimes you wondered how his head even fit through the door. He was stupid, in that careless, reckless way that only someone who’s gotten everything they’ve ever wanted can be.

And yet...

Here you are, again.

Your phone had buzzed just twenty minutes ago, lighting up your dark room with a text you should’ve ignored. But you didn’t. You never did. Because for all the ways Jack Hughes made you want to tear your hair out, there was one undeniable fact that kept pulling you back in: the sex.

Goddamn it, the sex.

You’d never tell him. Never give him the satisfaction of knowing just how good he was at it. Jack’s ego was already the size of an entire hockey rink, and the last thing you wanted was to inflate it even more. So when he asked if you came, you lied sometimes, just to keep him guessing. You’d mumble something noncommittal, roll your eyes at his smug grin, and make him work harder for it the next time.

But deep down, you knew the truth. No one had ever made you cum the way Jack did. Unfortunately.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t just that the sex was good—it was phenomenal. It was earth-shattering, toe-curling, makes-you-forget-your-own-name kind of good. The kind of sex that had your heart pounding in your chest long after he’d left, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin. Jack had a way of knowing exactly what you needed, exactly how to pull you apart piece by piece until you were a trembling mess beneath him. It was maddening. And you hated how much you loved it.

And so, here you were again—lying in bed, wide awake, staring at your phone as you waited for the inevitable knock at your door.

It always played out the same way. You’d hear the faint sound of his car pulling up, the slam of the door as he got out, and then, a minute later, the knock. Three sharp knocks that sent your heart racing, even as you cursed yourself for letting him in again. You told yourself you wouldn’t open it this time. That you’d let him stand out there, alone in the cold, and go back to bed with your dignity intact.

But when the knock finally came, you found yourself throwing the blankets off and padding toward the door in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear. Your hand hovered over the doorknob for a split second, your conscience screaming at you to turn around, to lock it, to put an end to this ridiculous cycle. But then, almost on autopilot, you twisted the knob and pulled the door open, your heart pounding in your chest as Jack Hughes stood there, looking like sin incarnate.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, that infuriating smirk already tugging at the corner of his lips. His hair was a mess, like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times on the way over, and his blue eyes sparkled with that familiar mix of arrogance and mischief. He wore a hoodie, the hood pulled low over his brow, and sweats that hung low on his hips, casual but still somehow infuriatingly sexy.

"You gonna let me in, or are you just gonna stare at me?" Jack’s voice was smooth, dripping with that cocky charm that made your stomach twist, and you hated how easily he could get under your skin. How effortlessly he made you feel both irritated and… excited all at once.

You didn’t answer him. You just stepped aside, letting him brush past you as you closed the door behind him, the soft click of the lock sealing your fate for the night. The scent of his cologne—something woodsy, with just a hint of spice—hit you as he walked past, and you hated the way it made your head spin, the way it made your pulse quicken in anticipation.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you felt his hands on you, rough and impatient, like he couldn’t wait another second to have you. He spun you around and backed you up against the door, his mouth already on yours before you could say a word. His kiss was all heat and urgency, his lips rough against yours as he pressed his body into you. There was nothing gentle about it—nothing soft or sweet. Jack didn’t kiss like a man who wanted to take his time. He kissed like he had something to prove, like he needed to remind you why you kept letting him in.

And maybe you did need the reminder. Because the second his hands slid down to your waist, gripping you with just the right amount of pressure, all the reasons you’d been telling yourself to say no melted away. His touch was electric, sending a jolt of heat straight through your body, and you gasped into his mouth, your hands instinctively gripping his hoodie, pulling him closer.

"You couldn’t wait, could you?" Jack’s voice was low, teasing, as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes flashing with amusement. "Always acting like you hate me, but here you are, letting me in again."

You glared at him, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his knuckles brushing against your bare skin underneath. "You’re such an asshole," you hissed, even though your body was already betraying you, arching into his touch.

He grinned, his teeth catching the light as he leaned down to kiss your neck, his lips dragging across your skin in a way that made you want to punch him and pull him closer all at once. "Yeah, but you love it," he whispered against your throat, his breath hot against your skin. "You love how much of an asshole I am."

You hated him. You hated how right he was. How he could get under your skin with a few words, a few touches, and make you forget every reason you had for not wanting him. But more than that, you hated how much you wanted him.

You hated the way your body responded to his touch, the way your skin burned under his hands, the way your breath hitched when his fingers dipped lower, just brushing the waistband of your panties. You hated that, even though you knew better, you couldn’t resist him. Not when he was here, pressed against you, his lips on your skin, his hands on your body.

"Shut up," you murmured, your voice breathless as you pulled him closer, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

Jack chuckled against your neck, his hand slipping under your shirt, his fingers trailing up your side, sending shivers across your skin. "Make me," he whispered, and you could hear the smirk in his voice, could feel the challenge in his words.

And that’s the thing about Jack Hughes. You did want to shut him up. You wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, to make him forget every cocky thing he’s ever said. But the problem was, every time you tried, he always ended up winning.

Because as much as you hated him, as much as he made you want to scream in frustration, there was no denying the fire between you. The way he could make your pulse race with just a touch, just a word. The way he could unravel you with a single look. And that was why you kept answering his texts at two in the morning, why you kept opening the door when you should’ve slammed it in his face.

Because Jack Hughes was the absolute worst. But he was also the best damn thing you’d ever had in bed.

And tonight, like every other night, you knew you’d let him prove it to you all over again.

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you

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foone · 2 years ago

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You know what I hate about modern mice? how pointlessly anti-repair they are. I have had plenty of mice break over time, and often it's just that some fluff or skin-flakes got wedged in the mouse wheel or under the buttons. You just need to open them up and clean them. Except.. where are the screws?

OH THERE THEY ARE. under the little skid-pads, which cannot be put back on once you take them off, because the adhesive has been ruined! You have to buy replacement pads, if they're available, and maybe cut them down to size, as well as clean off the residue of the previous pads.

You know how this problem could be fixed? JUST DON'T PUT THE PADS ON TOP OF THE SCREWS!

Then you'd have no problem. Easy to disassemble and clean.

But then it'd look 5% uglier because apparently people are scared of seeing screws, and also people might not just throw it out and buy a new one!

It's the terrible sort of weird planned obsolescence that happens as an almost accidental side effect of improving the product. Like, ball mice? They were designed to be disassembled. You didn't even need a screwdriver! Because you had to clean them regularly, or they'd gunk up too fast. Modern optical mice? They still get gunked up, the buttons and wheel still die eventually. They can be cleaned and repaired. But now that it's not required for all of them to be cleaned regularly, that function has been removed. they're designed to be disposable.

The same thing happened with TVs way back when. If you open up a TV from the 50s (or just look at the back, honestly, many of them were designed to be always-open), you'll find a schematic showing where all the tubes are and what models they are. Was this because the 1950s was a golden era of reparability? NO! it's because they burnt out all the time and you had to replace them! As soon as TVs got reliable enough that replacing tubes was no longer needed, the schematics became hidden behind paywalls and for authorized-service-personnel-only.

It would be only a minor change in aesthetics to make your mouse repairable/cleanable. Hell, most of the time when it's not simply fixed by cleaning it, it's because one of these broke:

This is an Omron D2FC-F-7N microswitch, used in a bunch of mice. It's designed to last about a million clicks. With a soldering iron and some solder (like 25$ on amazon) you can trivially replace it. New switches cost between like 10 cents and 2 dollars, depending where you buy it and how many you want. A couple bucks of parts and half an hour's worth of work, you can repair a 40$ mouse that's "died".

But they make it unnecessarily hard with the slide-pads being unreplacable. You have to find ones that match, you have to carefully clean off the old residue with IPA, or the new ones you just bought will fall off. All to make it look SLIGHTLY better (how often are you looking at the aesthetics of the bottom of your mouse, exactly? (no furries are allowed to answer this question!)) and maybe, just maybe, to push it over into "not worth it". You could do all that, but you have to buy new switches, new slide-pads/mouse-feet (SHUT UP FURRIES), and can you remember where your solder even is? you last used it when you were trying to fix that keyboard...

Basically one thing that is maddening to anyone with the very basics of electronic knowledge (seriously: the amount of skill you need for this is the kind you can get in less than an hour from watching a youtube tutorial) that we're surrounded by all this electrical nonsense that will break and have to be thrown out, but is mostly breaking in ways that could be fixed in a very short amount of time with relatively little work.

It's infuriating to go on amazon to buy another damn mouse and it pop up "hey you last bought this in 2021, you fool" and you're like I KNOW, IT SHOULD STILL BE WORKING TODAY!

I have computer parts from the 80s in my room right now that are still working when stuff made in the last 5 years is already dying! There's no reason it should be this way. It's an endless waste of time and money and resources and it's just to make some logitech or whoever executives slightly richer.

It's deeply bullshit. The modern day is going to be identifiable as the geological layer where most of the trash was generated. We're living in the middle of the quisquiliarumferous period: the layer of garbage.

#electronics #right to repair #planned obsolescence #ranting #I'm not actually mad at furries #it's a joke #I am a furry

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yunwangja · 3 months ago

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undercurrents | signal no. 18

masterlist | secret signal

"this was such a good idea,"

alisa sighs contentedly, setting down her fork with a satisfied smile. kuroo mirrors her expression, nodding in agreement, though his mind drifts elsewhere.

inside, a war is raging. everything about this feels wrong, but it's the right thing to do. at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

he tries to maintain his composure, to focus on the woman in front of him, but beneath the surface, he’s being torn apart. it’s maddening - the frustration, confusion, and anger building up inside. emotions he knows he shouldn’t be feeling, not now, not here.

kuroo was brought up to be a "good" guy. make the people around you comfortable, give them a hand when they need to, and help bring out the best in them. he lived his whole life being the reliable, friendly guy that is ready to give you a push whenever you need him.

in his mind, it means he can’t afford to be selfish. it’s simple: if it makes others happy, it should make him happy too. and when he wants something for himself? well, he should bury that desire, deny it for the greater good. because that's his "role".

that's how he mastered the art of masking his own feelings, hiding behind a smile, always keeping things light and fun. anything to avoid ruining the peace, to avoid letting people see how conflicted he truly is. if he messes up, in his eyes, he’ll have failed. the tetsuro kuroo everyone knows and relies on would be gone.

he knows kenma can see through it. kenma’s always been his voice of reason, telling him it’s okay to be honest, to not always put himself last. but it’s no use. kuroo can’t afford to believe that - not when the cost of expressing his true feelings seems so high.

so, he convinces himself that this is for the best, even though he knows deep down that if he could, he’d treat you so much better. he’d hold you close, knowing you belonged there. just seeing you smile could melt all his troubles away, and even the slightest brush of your hand would send his heart racing.

to him, you are everything. beautiful, kind, funny, and passionate. but it’s more than that. something about you makes him weak in a way no one else ever has. you make him want to be selfish, to want you all for himself, no matter the consequences.

he’ll do anything for you - even if it means forgetting you. because that’s what he thinks you want. you don’t need him complicating things with his feelings, not when you like someone else, even if you call it a harmless crush. it’s ruining whatever you already have. so, he’ll keep this up.

alisa and kuroo continued to talk, and he tried his best to get to know more about alisa, outside being his project partner and classmate. all he knew about her was that she had a little brother who was also into volleyball, which sparked most of their conversations before. besides, he needed to distract himself from thinking about you.

honestly, he feels bad. this date is probably something you both just wanted to try out, but he can't help but feel like he's forcing himself to be here when alisa is genuinely great.

as they finish their dessert and wrap up the conversation, kuroo can’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. he’s managed to put up the front, to act like everything’s fine. maybe if he does this enough, he’ll actually start to believe it. maybe, eventually, he’ll forget about you.

“i had a great time, alisa,” he says, turning to her with a small smile.

“this was a really nice date. i felt comfortable.” the lie slips out effortlessly, though he did genuinely enjoy getting to know her better.

alisa raises an eyebrow, her expression shifting to one of amused confusion. “wait, what?” she lets out a small laugh, “a date?”

kuroo tilts his head slightly, caught off guard. “yeah?”

she shakes her head, still smiling. “this wasn’t a date, kuroo.”

for a second, the words don’t register. then, when they do, he feels his stomach drop. holy shit. embarrassment rushes over him as he quickly tries to backtrack.

“oh god,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “i’m sorry.”

alisa’s expression softens, and she waves it off casually. “no, no. did i lead you on? i didn’t mean to. i’m sorry if i made it seem that way.”

kuroo shakes his head quickly. “no, it’s not your fault. i just misunderstood. honestly, at first, i didn’t think of you like that, but when you asked me out for coffee, i thought - well, maybe.”

alisa nods slowly, her expression apologetic. “i’m still sorry, though. i guess i should’ve been clearer when i asked.”

he shrugs it off, offering a weak smile. “it’s fine. really. i hope this doesn’t make things awkward.”

alisa shakes her head this time, "don't worry, as long as we're on the same page. you're a great guy yourself, kuroo." she smiles at him.

he returns the smile, but inside, his mind is racing. despite the embarrassment, a strange relief settles over him, washing away the tension he’s been carrying all evening. it feels wrong to be this relieved, almost like he’s betraying the plan he’d set for himself, but the truth is undeniable.

why is he relieved? all of a sudden, although he feels emotionally tired from all the torture he gave himself throughout today, it's like his inner self was screaming, thank God.

a wave of emotions crashes over him, sudden and overwhelming, as if the universe is trying to tell him something. like, this was a sign.

he freezes, the thought hitting him hard. it's absurd, reckless even. after everything he’s put himself through today, after all the mental battles and efforts to push you away, this would undo it all. it goes against every rational argument he’s made for why he should forget you.

but the relief flooding his chest is undeniable, drowning out the logic he’s clung to. it’s like a voice, quiet at first but growing louder, insistent, cutting through his doubt until it’s the only thing he can hear:

he loves you, and it's you who he wants to be with.

without another thought, kuroo stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

“thank you, alisa. i’m sorry again. but i have to go.”

"i want you, y/n."

his words echo in the quiet room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare, frozen in place. the intensity in kuroo’s eyes sends a shiver down your spine, and you’re not sure whether it’s the surprise or the weight of his confession that makes your heart race.

kuroo lets out a shaky breath, his voice raw. “i know you like tooru. and i know you’ve explained to me how you feel about him, how it’s always been. but even knowing all of that, i couldn’t stop wanting you.”

his gaze drops to the floor, as if he’s ashamed to admit it. “i kept telling myself that i didn’t have the right. that i shouldn’t want you. but no matter how hard i tried, i couldn’t help it. i just do.”

there’s a vulnerability in his tone that you’ve never heard before. kuroo, who’s always so composed, so confident, now stands in front of you, his emotions laid bare.

“i don’t know if you’ll hate me for this or if this will ruin everything between us, but i... i can’t stand on the sidelines anymore.”

his fists clench slightly at his sides, his voice almost breaking. “i’m tired of pretending i’m okay with it. tired of forcing a smile when all i want is something i convinced myself i couldn’t have.”

he steps closer to you, his eyes lifting to meet yours again, filled with something that leaves you breathless.

“from the day i saw you smile... i wanted you. even if that smile wasn’t for me.”

the room feels smaller, the air heavier, as you try to process everything he’s saying. a part of you wants to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out. instead, you find yourself moving without thinking - your arms wrapping around him, pulling him close.

kuroo stiffens for just a second, caught off guard by your hug. he doesn’t know what this meant, but in the midst of his confusion, his arms come around you slowly, holding you close, his fingers curling gently into the fabric of your shirt.

maybe she just missed me, he thinks. or maybe you felt touched by his confession. he tries to make sense of it by thinking that you were too happy to see him that you just weren’t able to control it. he’s been avoiding you lately, after all.

you glance over his shoulder, and there were your friends, peeking around the corner, smirking like they’ve been waiting for this moment all along. you pull back slightly from kuroo, cheeks burning, and clear your throat.

“come on,” you whisper, guiding him toward your room to escape their prying eyes. once inside, you close the door behind you, trying to ignore the heat that’s rising to your face.

the two of you sit on the edge of your bed, but there’s still a careful distance between you, an unspoken barrier that neither of you know how to cross just yet.

kuroo breaks the silence first, his voice hesitant. “so...”

you glance at him, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. you know you need to say something, but finding the right words feels impossible. after a moment, you take a deep breath and decide to start with the truth.

“you know about my last relationship, right?”

he nods silently, his eyes softening as he waits for you to continue.

“well… it scarred me. i decided after that… i didn’t want to fall in love again. i didn’t think i could be a good girlfriend, so i chose to just admire from afar instead.” you pause.

as you start to explain, kuroo starts to decipher what you’re trying to say. immediately, he thinks this would end up in a rejection. why would you say these things to him anyway?

despite this, he wants to listen to what you have to say. it’s not like he’s expecting you to like him back. you feel his gaze on you, unwavering, and it makes it both easier and harder to keep going.

“i told myself i didn’t deserve anyone. even more guys that i thought was out of my league. that was the case too when i liked tooru. it was safe... i knew nothing would come of it - the reason why i used to say i just wanted to be an ‘observer’.”

kuroo stays quiet, letting your words sink in. there’s no judgment in his eyes, just understanding.

“i did my best to run away from romantic feelings,” you admit quietly. “because i didn’t think i deserve to be in love anyway.”

there’s a pause, a heavy silence that settles between you. then kuroo speaks, his voice gentle but firm. “we both know that’s not true.”

“is it, though?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

kuroo shifts closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “do you really think i would’ve fallen in love with you if that was true?”

the question takes you by surprise, and you don’t know how to respond. “i... i don’t know,” you stammer, unsure.

he shakes his head slightly, his expression softening. “you didn’t need to be my girlfriend for me to see that you’re more than capable of being loved. you didn’t have to prove anything to me. i’ve always seen it. you’re perfect the way you are, y/n.”

his voice drops lower, filled with emotion, looking down. “i would’ve done anything just to call you mine.”

his words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at him. you can see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the truth behind every word he’s just said.

“kuroo,” you begin, your voice shaky. “i don’t like tooru anymore. i haven’t for a while now.”

his brow furrows, confusion flickering across his face. “but... i thought you guys were getting closer?”

you nod, a small, rueful smile on your lips. “we were, but only as friends, nothing more.”

kuroo’s eyes widen as realization dawns on him. tooru had been trying to push him toward you this whole time.

“kuroo,” you say again, gently pulling him out of his thoughts.

“yeah?” he replies, his voice a little unsteady.

“i know you just said you’re in love with me... but do you think i can?”

he tilts his head, eyes searching yours. “can you what?”

you hesitate for a moment, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

“can i fall in love with you too?”

kuroo’s eyes widen in shock, his body going rigid as he processes your words. for a moment, he’s completely still, his mouth opening slightly as if he’s searching for the right response. the room feels charged with the weight of your confession.

you watch as he takes a moment to absorb what you’ve just said. when he finally speaks, his voice is a whisper, filled with disbelief. “w-what?”

you give him a small, rueful smile, and continue, “you know, getting closer to tooru was because of you. he was also helping me figure things out.”

kuroo’s eyes widen further, a flicker of realization crossing his face. “because of me?”

you nod, your gaze steady. “yeah,"

the pieces start to fall into place for kuroo, and you can see the understanding dawn in his eyes. he takes a deep breath, his expression a mix of relief and intense emotion.

and then, in a swift, almost desperate movement, he reaches for you, pulling you close. his lips find yours with a kind of urgency that takes your breath away, the kiss filled with all the emotions he’s been holding back.

his hands frame your face gently, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. you can feel the tension melt away, replaced by something warm and undeniable.

when you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. kuroo lets out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

“of course,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“please do.”

and then, without missing a beat, he kisses you again.

notes

kuroo borrowed yn's phone and tweeted (and not because i didnt realize the plot hole immediately)

yn and kuroo sitting in a tree : D

this ends undercurrents OMGG UGHHKFSDHFKSDFS

i hope this was a good ending !!!!!

dw because a special chapter is coming !!! bc ik i'll miss this plus i want u guys to see sum yn and kuroo moments as a couple because WHY NOT

i'll properly conclude everything there !!

so technically its not officially done???

taglist: @lvtilzs @rarararararq @iamfontenlos @kurooswifeyy @secretsunsetsociety @kagsnumnine @yumiecheesecrackers @tojirin @jaynawayna @noxva08 @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @mawenskiblue @smellysluna @cccccccccccleo @winniethepooh-lover @akirqx @cupidsblonde @kukkurookkoo@emotiandon @urslytherin @mochroialainn @avis-writeshq @sorrynotsorrh @walllflowerrrsss @viva-vxgue @chifuzzy @mikaela26sstuff

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sacrednova · 1 month ago

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Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 7

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!! Start reading from the beginning: Part 1 | Part 8

It wasn’t hard to talk to Simon—it was just… hard. But not in a bad way. It was the kind of hard that made her pause, choose her words, and really think about what she wanted to say. And honestly? That was kind of terrifying.

She had figured out one crucial detail, though: Simon Riley was a really good listener.

Not the kind of listening where someone just nodded along and threw in a polite “oh, really?” No, Simon listened like every word she said mattered. Like he was gathering pieces of her story, stitching them together in that quiet, focused way of his.

His brow would furrow when something didn’t quite click for him, and she’d catch herself explaining things in more detail just to smooth out that little wrinkle between his eyes. Other times, he’d give her a small, almost shy smile, lips pressed tight as though he was holding back. And when he did decide to speak—rare as it was—his sense of humor was… well, awful.

Dry, sarcastic, and so poorly timed that it made her laugh harder than it should have.

But the most important thing? His eyes.

They had never left hers.

It wasn’t just polite eye contact. It was deep, unwavering, intentional. Those warm, brown irises seemed to pull her in, like magnets designed to drag her under his surface. Every time she tried to look away—to collect herself, to focus on something less overwhelming—she’d find herself drawn back to him.

And in those moments, the noise of the bar, the clinking of glasses, the hum of conversation… all of it faded. It was just her and Simon, his gaze anchoring her to the spot, making her feel seen in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

It wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t just curiosity about the man behind the mask. It was something quieter, something deeper.

It was connection.

It had been a long time since she’d felt like this—so long, in fact, that she didn’t even know how to articulate it to herself.

Was there even a word for it? This warm, jittery, completely maddening sensation in her chest?

She didn’t know, but damn, she was into him.

Into every little thing about him—the way his voice wrapped around words like they were secrets meant only for her ears, the way he moved, so calculated yet effortless, as though every step was planned without trying to be. Even the way he drank his bourbon, the subtle way his lips pressed against the glass.

And that… that was terrifying.

Because the truth was, she didn’t know much about him. Not really.

God knows she’d tried. She had peppered him with questions earlier—little things about his day, what he liked, if he’d always been this serious—and he? He was as cold as a stone wall when anything remotely personal came up. It wasn’t rude, exactly, just… unyielding.

And there was no way in hell she’d push him. No. That wasn’t her. She wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t force him to share.

But it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Because damn it, she wanted to keep him around.

Not just as the guy who drove me home that one crazy night. She wanted a second date. A third. A fourth. She wanted…

Shit.

She wanted him.

“What you thinkin’ so much?” His low, rumbling voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

“What—huh? Me? Thinking? No, I mean—yes! I think, like, most people do, but—”

“Careful,” he murmured, his eyes sparking with amusement, “might bite ya tongue.”

The grin tugging at his lips was slight but devastating, sending heat straight to her cheeks.

And just like that, he had her spinning all over again.

She leaned back slightly in her seat, trying to steady the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her nerves were rattling inside her like a thousand tiny earthquakes, but hell, she wasn’t about to let that show. She needed to feel confident—wanted to feel confident—not this shy, not this flustered. Not this… undone.

"I want a wine," she blurted, scanning the room for a waiter like her life depended on it.

Simon didn’t respond immediately, and the silence was deafening. She shifted in her seat, suddenly hyperaware of his stillness. "Everything's fine?" she asked, hesitantly.

His response came low and even, carrying a strange weight. "Not a big fan."

"Of wine?"

"…Can’t handle it well."

Her lips parted in a silent gasp, her mind racing. Oh. My. God. Was it bad that her immediate thought—her absolutely terrible thought—was to see him a little tipsy? Just a little? She could practically feel the wicked urge tugging at her. It was irresponsible. Immature.

And, apparently, irresistible.

"Maybe a cup won't hurt you, Simon," she said, trying to keep her tone light, teasing.

His eyes—those unrelenting, burning brown eyes—locked onto hers, and her heart stuttered. He didn’t move, didn’t shift. Just looked. And in that moment, she was sure of two things:

1: He knew exactly what she was doing. 2: He was going to make her pay for it.

"Hm. Really?"

The words were a challenge, laced with that unmistakable edge of his.

She swallowed, feeling her resolve waver. "…We can share a cup."

"Can we?"

"Yes?"

His head tilted slightly, assessing her like a predator deciding whether the hunt was worth it. Then he leaned back in his seat, the tiniest smirk pulling at his lips.

"Fine."

Fuck.

Her pulse raced, and she could already feel her cheeks burning again. What had she just done?

Simon wasn’t an impulsive man. He never let his feelings dictate his actions. Discipline was his armor; control was his weapon.

Until now.

Until her.

Her laugh still echoed faintly in his head, soft and teasing, like it had been etched there. And now this—this moment, this glass of wine—was tipping him over some edge he hadn’t realized he was standing on.

What the hell are you thinking, Riley?

The question circled his mind as he took another sip, the rich red liquid burning less than he remembered. Or maybe it was the heat in her gaze that dulled everything else. Her eyes stayed on him, shining like they held secrets he wanted to pry out. And her lips—soft, slightly parted, tinted just right—were driving him mad.

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, a small, almost absent-minded gesture, and yet, it had him utterly fixated. Every move she made seemed calculated to undo him, and worse, he wasn’t sure if she even knew it.

Fuck, he wanted her.

He wanted her to want him, too.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice dipping slightly, pulling his attention back to her lips.

"Late," he answered, the word coming out rougher than he intended. He didn’t bother looking at his watch; the time didn’t matter.

Her eyebrow arched, playful, daring him. "…Really, late?"

Sarcasm. Teasing. She was testing him, pulling at the string between them to see how tight it could stretch.

"Really late," he repeated, his voice quieter this time, like it wasn’t meant for anyone else but her.

And then it was just… there. That thick, invisible tension wrapping around them like a cord, pulling tighter with every shared glance, every stolen breath.

The air felt heavy, charged, like it could ignite if one of them moved an inch closer. Their bodies stayed still, a careful distance apart, but their eyes… their eyes refused to let go.

He didn’t blink, didn’t look away.

What’s next?

The question clawed at him, louder than his heartbeat, louder than reason.

His hands twitched, the slightest movement, as if they were ready to reach for her. To break the distance. To shatter the moment.

What do you want from her, Riley?

The thought settled in the pit of his stomach like a weight he wasn’t ready to carry.

Where do you want this to go?

The answer was right there, coiled in his chest, hot and undeniable.

Fuckin’ hell.

Simon had never been in this situation before. Well, not exactly this situation. Sure, he'd had his fair share of nights where things spiraled a little too far out of control, but this? Sitting across from her, her lips flushed from the wine, her laughter soft and too sweet, her hands resting on the table like an invitation? This was new.

He wasn’t in any condition to drive, and he knew it. The wine had gone straight to his head, his pulse pounding louder than reason. He was good at hiding it—so damn good at keeping his composure—but not tonight.

She caught it. Of course, she caught it.

His eyes betrayed him, breaking from her face to linger on her hands, tracing the curve of her knuckles as she fidgeted with her glass. They dipped lower, to her shoulders, her neck, the line of her collarbone disappearing beneath the fabric of her dress.

He cleared his throat, trying to reset, but she was staring back now, wide-eyed and flushed, and that damn tension was snapping tighter by the second.

"So… how are we getting home, huh?" Her voice wavered, but her smile stayed steady, teasing.

He blinked, his brain working slower than usual. Drive? Right. He wasn’t driving. Absolutely not. He wasn’t stupid enough to risk that, but… he also wasn’t ready to let this night end.

He pulled out his phone, fumbling slightly as he swiped at the screen. "Uber," he muttered, voice gravelly.

She laughed, a soft, almost nervous sound. "Oh, a real Uber this time? Not the personal one?"

He glanced up, catching her grin, and something in his chest tightened. "Don’t push it," he muttered, but his lips twitched just enough to betray him.

The Uber arrived quickly, and they stumbled out into the cool night air. Simon opened the door for her—always, always—his hand brushing her lower back as she climbed in.

She didn’t notice, not at first. She was busy pulling out her phone, probably texting Lottie or someone equally amused about the fact she was heading home with him. But then…

The driver’s voice broke the silence. "So, your address is…?"

Simon leaned forward, his voice steady but quieter now. "Hers."

Her head snapped up, her heart lurching so fast it hurt. "Wait, what?"

He didn’t even look at her, just leaned back against the seat, his arms crossed over his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"My house?" Her voice cracked, disbelief flooding her chest.

"You got a problem with tha'?"

Oh, her brain was short-circuiting now. "I—uh, no, it’s just…" Fucking shit, is he STAYING? Is he STAYING at my place?

Her heart hammered harder, racing into the kind of panic that wasn’t fear, but anticipation.

Shit, shit, shit. Did I shave?

Her eyes darted to him again, her cheeks flaming. He looked so calm, but she knew better. She could see the way his hands twitched, the way his gaze dipped to her legs for a fraction too long before darting back to the window.

She felt the warmth rise in her throat, a blend of nerves and something deeper, darker.

And then it hit her.

This wasn’t just about him staying. It wasn’t about whether she shaved, or whether she had fresh sheets, or if she had leftover takeout in the fridge to awkwardly offer him.

This was about the fact that he chose her.

And hell, if she wasn’t ready for it… but maybe that was the point.

Her house.

Her rules.

Her Simon.

She bit her lip, her mind spiraling, her pulse racing, and as the Uber sped down the empty streets, she decided… whatever happened next, she wasn’t holding back.

Her thumbs moved faster than her brain, texting Millie in a frenzy. The Uber wasn’t even halfway to her place, and already her head was spinning.

Her breathing quickened as she stared at her phone, waiting for Millie’s reply. A second felt like an eternity.

She glanced at Simon, who was sitting completely still, staring out the window like the world outside held all the answers. His shoulders were so broad, his jaw set, his hands resting on his thighs.

Oh fuck.

Cool? COOL? She wasn’t sure she knew what “cool” was anymore.

She stared at the screen, Millie’s rare display of actual best-friend-mode sincerity grounding her, if only slightly.

She sucked in a deep breath, clutching the phone like it was a lifeline.

She glanced at Simon again, and her pulse fluttered. He turned his head slightly, catching her in his peripheral. His eyes flicked down to her phone.

“You alright?”

Oh god. His voice. Deep and low, like he knew she was spiraling.

“Y-yeah! Just… texting Millie.”

“About me?”

Her face burned. “No!”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. He didn’t press further, but she saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

And just like that, her nerves flared again, but this time… she kind of liked it.

Tags ♥: @sleep101 @all-by-myself98 @h0ney-mushroom

Omg, next chapter.... next chapter.... (evil laugh)

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #cod headcanons #fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #fem reader

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yeoblurbs · 1 year ago

Text

Clockwork

University AU - angst with a happy ending, best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Female Reader (ft. Yeonjun of TXT x Reader)

Synopsis: Being best friends with Jung Wooyoung was everything you could imagine. That is, until you catch feelings for him. Now, you navigate a heartbreak minus the rejection, and Wooyoung doesn’t seem to like it.

WC: 8.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of scars, subtle hints of disassociation in the beginning, mentions of spiraling, one harassment scene. less serious stuff —> making out, somewhat possessive!Wooyoung(not toxic), Wooyoung gets jealous:>, kind of idiots to lovers. kind of slow burn. apologies for any typos I’m afraid I can’t re read this even one more time

the hollow feeling in your chest eats at you while you lay on your couch, snuggled in a blanket clad in one of Wooyoung’s soft grey hoodies. you pull the hood up over your head and stare at the chipped paint on the wall.

would you ever find someone who loved you enough? someone who would stick by you after seeing you at your worst; someone who would kiss the scars on your body and reassure you when you got insecure. someone who would look at you with overwhelming love and whisper I love you between kisses on your skin.

you wanted it to be Wooyoung. god, you wanted him to love you like that, but Wooyoung has only ever looked at you like his best friend. and you should be thankful for that, after all, you were so incredibly lucky to be close to Wooyoung, able to receive the intense amount of love and care he has to offer.

but you can’t help but feel selfish and wish for more.

a knock on your door pulls you from your spiraling. you allow yourself to stare into nothingness for a second longer before pulling yourself together and getting up to open the door.

the winter breeze feels crisp against your bare legs. you look up to see who’s visited you so late, and there he is; dressed in baggy jeans and a black tee shirt layered with a jacket much too large for him, there was Wooyoung. your Wooyoung.

well, in your dreams anyway.

you’re once again pulled out of your spiraling when he calls out to you with that irritatingly gentle, yet teasing voice of his, “Y/n? Are you gonna let me in?” and suddenly you’re back to reality.

the cold night air brushes against your skin again, goosebumps arising in their wake; a reminder of how cold Wooyoung must be.

you roll your eyes and smile, grabbing Wooyoung's arm and pulling him in. he lets you lock the door before engulfing you in a hug. you inhale softly at the smell of his subtle cologne and wrap your arms around his back, shutting your eyes and allowing yourself the selfishness of wanting him close. but he breaks the hug a moment later, looking at you with that maddening smile and you feel yourself relax in his presence.

“So, what’re we watching?” he asks lightly, pulling your arm towards the couch as if he lives there. and he might as well, with how often he sleeps over. he removes his jacket, throwing it on the couch before sitting down. you struggle to not ogle his arms, “Nothing, actually.”

you plop down on the couch next to him, an unfamiliar distance between the two of you. you hope he won’t notice, but Wooyoung looks at you with an unreadable expression as he observes the space.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, serious eyes boring into yours.

of course, he noticed immediately, you think fondly. “I’m just tired, honestly. but let’s watch something?” you smile, trying to change the subject.

Wooyoung lets it go, but only after squinting his eyes and moving closer to you. you sigh when his shoulder touches yours, craving the skinship yet hating yourself for it.

Wooyoung decides on a random movie, and while you were distracted throughout the film, your eyes immediately snap to his phone when a notification pops up. Wooyoung picks it up, swipes to open the message, and text back.

you force yourself not to check who he’s texting and speak casually, “What is it?”

he glances up at you before looking down and shutting his phone off, “Just Miyu, she’s asking if we can see each other tomorrow.”

“Oh, are you guys a thing then?” a forced smile makes its way to your face, though you ensure it looks genuine enough for Wooyoung to not notice.

he exhales, “Honestly? Not really. I like her and I think she’s really cute, but I’m not sure I see myself in a committed relationship with her.”

Wooyoung runs a hand through his two-toned hair, black strands falling over the blonde, “I’ll see how it goes though after a few dates.”

“Good luck!” you smile; a response you always gave whenever Wooyoung told you he was dating someone. because although it hurt, you wished him happiness, even if that meant he found it in someone else.

the rest of the night goes uneventful, but you can’t stop thinking about the fact that something needs to change. you don’t want to do it anymore; you don’t want to sit on the sidelines and watch your best friend fall in love with someone other than you.

but Wooyoung was never going to choose you, so perhaps it was time you found someone who would.

you needed to move on, you realize. not only for yourself, but so you could continue to be close with Wooyoung even after he ultimately finds another girl; someone who isn't you. with a goal in mind, you bite your lip and click the contact of the only person you could think of; Hongjoong.

"So what, i’m supposed to just ask for his number?" you sigh, already regretting asking for his help.

Hongjoong crosses his arms, "Yes, exactly that. Men love when women ask for their numbers, something about the assertiveness or some shit like that.” he shrugs.

you squint wearily at him, “Well, you don’t sound so convinced yourself, but I don’t really have anyone else to ask,”

you groan as you watch Hongjoong’s face stretch into a smirk. “Okay, asshole, when should I do it?”

“Do it today after your last class.” Hongjoong moves closer to you and whispers, “From what I know, Yeonjun’s class ends at the same time as yours. So when he’s leaving the building, you just need to be ready to catch him.”

you pout at his instructions, unsure how you’ll manage to do something like this. Hongjoong pats your head in comfort. “Okay… thank you Joongie, I’ll try my best.”

You move to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling his chest rumble with a laugh, “No need to thank me Y/nie, just let me know how it goes, and if he’s an ass to you I’ll beat him up.” he pulls back at you to wink and you push him away with a laugh. Well, what could possibly go wrong?

Everything is going wrong. you were supposed to be running out of class immediately to find Yeonjun, but someone accidentally ran into you, dumping their entire large caramel macchiato on you in the process.

and unlucky for you, you were wearing white; now you had to put off asking Yeonjun out and walk home with sticky skin and a stained shirt.

you ruffle your hands in your hair frustratedly as you exit the school building, regretting not bringing a hoodie that day. in your rushed walk towards your car, you fail to notice someone standing right in front of you.

you run straight into their chest.

“Oh my fucking-, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” you blurt out quickly, eyes filling up with tears in exhaustion as you look up to see Yeonjun.

Yeonjun.

No, No. No. this could not be happening.

you were supposed to ‘casually’ run into him with your hair neatly done and your outfit clean, but here you were with a huge stain on your chest and mascara tainting your tears.

your eyes move towards the floor as a tear falls, avoiding eye contact as you quickly wipe it away.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. nothing to apologize or get upset for,” he reassures, hands scrambling before landing on your shoulders.

he bends down to catch your eyes, “You okay? Doesn’t look like you’re having a very good day.”

and maybe it’s because you’re fed up with the events that occurred. not just the stupid sticky shirt but your stupid massive crush on your best friend that hasn’t gone away no matter how hard you try that you’re talking to the guy you were supposed to ask out to get over him and-

Yeonjun tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, staring at you in concern as you sniffle, trying to calm down and not have a total mental breakdown in front of someone you were not close with.

“Uh… I don’t exactly know what’s making you so sad, but if you need anything I’m here, even if we don’t know each other so well.” he smiles cutely, and your eyes dart to his full lips before glancing back at his eyes.

you don’t say anything, mind scattered and tired after the long day you’ve had. you wonder how you’re even functioning in this conversation with one of the hottest guys you’ve seen.

Yeonjun pouts once he realizes you are too tired to speak, before an idea comes to mind and his eyes light up. he grabs the hem of his hoodie and pulls it over his head, ruffling his hand through his hair as he hands it to you.

you don’t understand, this interaction is a lot more confusing than you initially thought it would be. but perhaps that was just your luck. your hands reach out unsure, so he pushes the hoodie in your arms firmly.

you clutch the lavender coloured fabric in your hands tightly, looking up at him in confusion. “What’s this for?”

he smiles again. you find you really like his smile. not as much as Wooyoungs though, an evil voice in your head reminds you. you frown as you ignore it.

“Well, I’m going to assume one of the things that’s got you so upset is about your shirt, so don’t worry about it, you can return the hoodie whenever you want,” he reassures kindly.

Your cheeks feel hot as you remember the humiliating stain. “Ah… I see. Thank you, you really didn’t have to do this for me.”

“It’s okay, honestly! Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

you bite your lip and nod, before remembering your mission to ask for his number. would it be too awkward now? would he even want to speak to you after this odd encounter? your mind races as you think of what to do next.

luckily, Yeonjun picks for you.

“I don’t really know if this is an appropriate time to ask, but could I by chance get your number?” he looks to the side, rubbing the back of his neck as a light blush coats his cheeks.

your face brightens at his question, and a soft laugh bubbles out of you at the sight of his blush.

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

he opens his phone and hands it to you. your fingers shake as you type your number in, but you hand it back to him with a steady smile.

“Thanks, I should get going, but I hope the rest of your day goes well.” he winks.

your eyebrows raise at his sudden confidence, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t find it attractive.

“Okay,” you smile, “Thank you for the hoodie, really it means a lot.”

he shakes his head back at you, “It was nothing, seriously. and I’ll text you later!”

you bow your head, agreeing as you watch him wave before jogging to his friends.

you clutch the hoodie in your hands tightly as you turn to walk to your car. you smile giddily,

mission accomplished.

it’s a Friday evening.

Wooyoung lays on your bed unceremoniously as he scrolls on his phone while you search your closet for an outfit to wear to the party tonight.

while normally you would’ve gone for something a little more comfortable, you decide to go for something more risky.

you did enjoy parties, but tonight you had someone’s attention to catch. someone who wasn’t the boy sitting on your bed.

“I don’t get why you’re putting so much thought into it. We go to parties all the time, what’s so different about this one?” Wooyoung nags, body laying on his side as he’s perched up on his hand, elbow digging into the mattress.

you huff, “Because! I just want to look prettier tonight, isn’t that a valid reason itself?”

Wooyoung looks at you suspiciously before sighing, “Fine, fine! I’ll find out the truth eventually y/nie,”

you roll your eyes at his tone before looking in the full-body mirror. you have a tight black skirt on paired with a matching fitted cropped shirt. underneath the skirt are sheer stockings, and you top it off with an oversized leather jacket.

your makeup and hair are already done, styled in your preferred way as you twirl in front of your mirror with a happy smile. this will surely catch Yeonjun's attention tonight, and your stomach swirls with joy at the thought.

a cough breaks you out of your stupor and you look up to find Wooyoung staring at you with wide eyes. his cheeks are tinted red as he licks his bottom lip.

“What? Does it look bad?” You look down self-consciously, unused to Wooyoung looking at you like that. you wonder if this outfit will catch more attention than you predicted.

he shakes his head and relaxes his face, “No, no. I was just surprised.”

he smirks, “You look hot.”

your lips part stupidity as you swiftly turn around to face the mirror again. “Shut up,” you mumble, ignoring the way your heart jumped at his words.

Loud music blares through your ears as you step foot into the party, eyes scanning the chaotic room for someone familiar. Wooyoung grabs your hand, lacing your fingers with his as he pulls you towards your mutual friends. you stare at your intertwined hands in awe before remembering that it meant nothing.

nothing to him at least.

your fingers slip from his grasp once you reach your friends and he looks at you in confusion. you smile reassuringly at him, however, and he turns back without noticing anything.

you bite your lip as you look around; you need to leave. not the party, but you need to leave from Wooyoung's side. you don’t belong there. you never have.

you tug at Wooyoung's arm to get his attention, prompting him to bend down as you speak into his ear, “I’m gonna go get a drink.”

“Okay! Just let me tell them and we can go.” he smiles dazzlingly, but you frown in response.

“No! Stay here, it’s okay! I’ll get it myself.”

the smile slowly slips from his face and his brows furrow. you look around anxiously, you don’t know why you feel so nervous. "Alright, just be careful and call me if you need anything, okay?” he grabs your arm, gazing at you seriously, and your stomach rolls at his protectiveness. you wish he wouldn’t be so perfect. but this was Wooyoung, so that was rather impossible.

you nod at him in response before leaving, letting out a breath when you were far enough.

you glance back at Wooyoung who is speaking animatedly, upset that you couldn’t enjoy yourself with him all because of your selfish feelings. you ignore the internal pull to be close and turn back around.

until you bump directly into someone’s chest.

“Fuck, what is wrong with me lately?” you murmur to yourself, rubbing your nose lightly before looking up.

“I’m so- Yeonjun?!”

the universe is not on your side it appears, as the Choi Yeonjun is in front of you looking at you with that cute boyish smile. you want to melt into a puddle of embarrassment then and there.

he chuckles at your expression, “So, is running into people always your thing? Or is that exclusive to me only?” his lips stretch into a grin.

“Seems to be exclusive to you, unfortunately,” you say teasingly, giggling at his offended look.

he puts a hand above his heart appearing wounded, “Unfortunately?! I will have you know it should be considered an honor to bump into me.”

“Considered an honor by who? Yourself?” you gloat, enjoying the flirty banter with a guy you found immensely attractive.

he clicks his tongue before giving up the facade and smiling genuinely. “I thought you said you’d text me when you got here.” he pouts at you; you have to force yourself to look away from his lips.

you and Yeonjun had been texting ever since your little run-in on campus. he knew you were coming here, hence the fact that you also put in more effort for your look today. you hadn’t exactly told Wooyoung about him either, unsure how your best friend would react to you randomly finding interest in dating.

“I just got here! I was going to text you once I got a drink, I promise.”

he nods sulkily, and you suddenly think he and Wooyoung would get along well. “Okay then, let’s go get you a drink?” he asks, grabbing your hand to lead you.

you stare at your hand in his as he leads you through the swarm of people. his is much larger than yours, warmth radiating off him so intensely you wish you could feel butterflies. but it is nothing in comparison to how you feel with your hand intertwined with Wooyoungs, and your heart dims at the realization.

the rest of the night goes by fast and enjoyable, and you find yourself enamoured with Yeonjun. but as much as you wish you liked him romantically, you find him amazing platonically at best.

you feel as though you are fighting a losing battle, and that using Yeonjun to get over Wooyoung would not only fail, but be selfish in case he caught feelings for you.

so when it gets a little too late, you make your way back to Wooyoung. Yeonjun is still next to you, and the two of you are engaging in a very serious conversation about whether or not water is wet when you feel someone grab your waist softly.

you jump at the feeling, unintentionally moving closer to Yeonjun until you turn around to find Wooyoung.

you relax at the sight of him, now gravitating to Wooyoung subconsciously, “Hi! Ready to go? I’m so tired and my head is pounding from the music.”

Wooyoung smiles at you, but it looks forced. “Yeah, yeah. Who’s this?” he tilts his head toward Yeonjun, and you blanch as you realize what kind of situation you put yourself in. but it shouldn’t go awry; the two didn’t know each other, and Wooyoung had no idea that you were interested in Yeonjun- if you could even call it that.

“This is Yeonjun, he goes to our University. He’s majoring in Dance actually, just like you!” you try unsure, glancing back to Yeonjun to assess his face.

he doesn’t look as standoffish as Wooyoung however, seeming rather amused as he eyes Wooyoung's hand on your waist.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. I hope I didn’t hog Y/n to myself all night.”

Wooyoung's hand tightens as he takes a step closer to you. you can smell the cologne on him and feel the heat coming from him on your back.

Wooyoung laughs, but it is far from genuine, “No, of course not. Y/n is her own person, she can hang out with whoever she wants, even if it’s with someone like you.”

your head whips to Wooyoung, face scandalized at his last words. you push at his chest, moving him away from Yeonjun, “Dude, not fucking cool.”

you turn back to Yeonjun, ignoring the way he is still staring at Wooyoung in mirth.

“I’m sorry, he’s had a long night and too much to drink, we should get going.” You slap your hand over Wooyoung's mouth when he moves to open it, giving a crooked smile to Yeonjun as Wooyoung fumbles beneath your hand.

Yeonjun glances at Wooyoung before his eyes land on you, “No worries, I get it. Just text me when you get home. I’ll see you on Monday?”

you nod quickly, “Yeah, of course, I’ll see you then!”

without another word, you grab Wooyoung's arm and drag him out of the house and into his car. once seated in the passenger seat, you open your hand and look at him expectantly.

he glances to your open palm, “What?”

“Keys.” you sigh, wanting this night to be over so you can lay in bed and go to sleep.

Wooyoung places the keys in your hand with a pout and you clutch them before standing up, shutting his door, and getting in the driver's seat.

“So, Yeonjun huh? Didn’t know you two were so close.” Wooyoung says, voice cutting the deafening silence. your hands tighten on the wheel as you focus on the road.

Wooyoung is still sulking, and while you have no idea why, you also have no interest in finding out. his behavior in front of Yeonjun was extremely uncalled for and disrespectful, and you would give him an earful had he not drank anything tonight. “C'mon, Y/nie, don’t ignore me. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have talked to him like that but I just... got bad vibes from him.”

you roll your eyes at his words, though some of your anger diminishes at his apology. well, at least he knew why you were upset.

“Bad vibes? Why? You’ve spoken to him for a total of two minutes.”

Wooyoung deflates. it seems he knows he is being unreasonable. “I dunno, okay? But listen, I’m allowed to be upset too. You haven’t told me anything about your relationship with Yeonjun, and I'm your best friend.”

you glance at his crestfallen face before sighing, “You’re right, I’m sorry too. I should have told you about him, I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“It’s okay I guess, but I’ll only forgive you on one condition.”

you narrow your eyes at him before looking back to the road, “And what would that be?”

Wooyoung grins mischievously, “You tell me all about it. When did you first meet, how did you first meet, how often do you text? And most importantly, how it went tonight with him!” he rambles excitedly, and you hate that he seems so happy at the prospect of you speaking to a guy.

and so you begin to tell Wooyoung the events leading up to the party, including the details such as your stained shirt, the hoodie, the fact that the two of you have been texting for quite a while, and why you dressed up tonight.

he nods excitedly at you as you go through the events while driving, but you fail to notice the dimness in his eyes and how his smile seems a little more strained as you go on a tangent about Yeonjun's cute lips.

you arrive home soon after, dropping Wooyoung off and parking his car before walking to your apartment. the two of you lived quite close.

once in bed, you recount the events that occurred at the party, stomach lurching when you remember Wooyoung's possessive hand on you.

but then the butterflies morph into moths, an ugly wretched feeling of yearning swallows you whole, and you find yourself spiraling at the realization that you are zero steps closer to getting over Jung Wooyoung. you have merely been going in circles from the start.

Wooyoung on the other hand, lays in bed with a permanent frown. he doesn’t understand the irritation he feels towards Yeonjun, and he certainly doesn’t understand why he felt threatened by seeing you two together. you were his best friend, and that’s all you’ve ever been to him.

but as he stares at his ceiling and pictures a life where you are not his, he wonders if you’ve meant more to him all along.

"I’m going to break things off with Yeonjun." You rest your head on your hands, elbows perched on the table in front of you.

Hongjoong sits before you, mouth open as he looks at you as if you are crazy. and perhaps you are for even thinking of letting Yeonjun go, but you were never really a selfish person, much less a selfish lover. and while you were not considered Yeonjun's lover just yet, you figure you need to pull back now before the tide takes you too far, leaving you stranded and alone drowning in your own consequences.

he exhales rather dramatically, "Are you sure? I'm going to be honest, I don't understand at all. Everything has been going so well! Why would you give up now?"

"But it hasn't been going so well Joong. I find him attractive but my feelings for Wooyoung are still very much there and alive." You take a sip of your drink, allowing the cool beverage to calm you. "I don't want to be one of those assholes who lead someone on when they aren't over their first crush or whatever."

you shake your head, "That's never going to be me."

Hongjoong nods understandingly. "Well, if you put it like that I can't really disagree."

he reaches over from across the table to pat your head comfortingly, "I'm proud of you, though. You are so selfless, it makes me worry someone will take advantage of you." You smile abashed at his praise, having always looked up to Hongjoong.

"Don't worry, I'm strong too, okay? I learned from you, after all." You smile as he scoffs teasingly.

Hongjoong glances out the window before looking back at you, "So, when are you planning on breaking the news to him? And what do you plan to do after?"

you press your lips together, "I asked him to meet me in an hour, so hopefully that goes well."

"As for after that..." you smile bitterly, "Maybe I'll confess to Wooyoung. I don't know, maybe a rejection would help me move on properly."

Honghoong tilts his head up and down, "You're a good person, y'know? It's not selfish of you to catch feelings for someone. Stuff like that is inevitable."

"And confessing your feelings wouldn't be a burden, I know what you are thinking, you deserve an answer to your feelings, whether that is an acceptance or a rejection."

you smile at Hongjoong's words, "Thank you, my unpaid therapist I so dearly love."

"Anytime." he deadpans, and you giggle as you watch his face break out into a smile.

you leave the coffee shop soon after, enjoying the breeze as you walk back to campus to meet Yeonjun. you aren't sure how your talk will go, but you know you need to get everything off of your chest, including the guilt of leading Yeonjun on.

"Y/n!" a voice calls out from behind you, and you turn to see Yeonjun waving at you. He jogs up to you, smiling once he is close, "Hey! How are you doing?"

you grin softly at him, "I'm doing okay, how about you?"

he runs a hand through his hair, and you are once again reminded of his strikingly amazing looks. you hope he finds someone to appreciate him as he deserves. "I'm alright, but I'm guessing you have something to speak to me about after that ominous text."

"Yeah... you're right." you glance up at him before looking back in front of you. "Lets walk and I'll tell you?"

"Of course, start whenever you're ready."

you exhale shakily, "So, there is no easy way to say this, but for as long as I've known Wooyoung, I have had feelings for him," You bite your lip, ripping the bandaid off immediately. "Maybe it was something about the way he treated me, or the way he treated everyone else. He was just so full of love and I was immediately smitten."

you look up into Yeonjun's eyes, "It's been three years, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get over him." You move to stand directly in front of Yeonjun. "I owe you a massive apology. I am so incredibly sorry for showing interest in you despite having feelings for someone else. It wasn't right for me to practically use you, not when you have been so good to me from the beginning."

you finish your apology with a deep bow, only rising when Yeonjun scrambles to make you stand straight.

"Well, I can't say I'm totally surprised. I did see how he looked at you at the party, but I do appreciate the apology." he smiles, not seeming resentful in the slightest. you wonder if he was an angel in his past life.

but you're also confused, "What do you mean how he looked at me? It's unrequited, he only sees me as his best friend." Your mind races as you try to imagine what Yeonjun could possibly mean, but you try not to get your hopes up.

he tilts his head, "I just mean he looked really jealous, but I guess you didn't notice." You look at Yeonjun with furrowed brows, before pushing the thought out entirely. you could overthink this later, when you weren't in the presence of the sweet guy in front of you.

"Anyway! I just wanted to talk to you about that. I really am sorry, and I hope we can be friends even if I was a selfish asshole."

Yeonjun shakes his head seriously, "You are not a selfish asshole for trying to get over him. You telling me all of this now proves that you are much kinder than you give yourself credit for."

"And of course we're friends! If it makes you feel any better, I'm still not one hundred percent over my ex, so I hope that will ease your conscience." he pats your shoulder reassuringly.

you raise your eyebrows at his confession. "Thank you, seriously." You move to hug him and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him firmly.

what you don't notice, is your best friend staring at you a few feet away, your favorite donut in one hand and his iced americano in the other.

he eyes Yeonjun's arms wrapped around you, wanting nothing more than to pull him off and surround you with himself instead. you deserved someone better than Yeonjun. you deserved someone who would make you breakfast when you slept in; someone who would bring you hot cocoa between classes during harsh winters, and someone who would shower you with more love than you could possibly imagine.

he could do that for you; he could be that person for you.

Wooyoung's chest feels lighter when he realizes what this means, but his brows furrow as he watches you break apart from Yeonjun, looking up at him with a sweet smile. he pouts, glancing at the donut in his hand as he turns away, a new goal in mind.

he is going to pursue you. not Miyu, whom he hadn't had an interest in quite some time, nor Yujin, the girl from his class who wouldn't leave him alone. he doesn't know why he's been searching so hard for something- or someone who was right there all along.

but he has time to make up for it, and he certainly will.

The next time you see Wooyoung is during your break between classes. you are sitting at a bench outside, headphones on as you whisper the lyrics to 'Dust' by Seventeen.

you shriek when you feel a cold sensation on the back of your neck, pulling your headphones off as you hear that familiar cackle behind you. you glare at Wooyoung as he wipes tears from his eyes, finding you very amusing.

"I'm glad that was so funny to you," you say snarkily, but all Wooyoung does is beam at you in response. "You're not going to thank me? I drove all the way to the store to grab it."

you glance down at the cold drink in front of you, seeing your ultimate favorite beverage from a store all the way across town. you look up to Wooyoung with an excited smile, "Oh shit! Thank you, you really shouldn't have."

Wooyoung shrugs your comment off with a wave of his hand, but his cheeks burn pleasantly. he takes a seat next to you, nuzzling your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist and you freeze. you haven't been this close to Wooyoung in weeks, courtesy of the distance you implemented in order to get over him.

"I miss you," he whispers, and you relax instantly. the last thing you wanted was for Wooyoung to feel neglected in your friendship, so you accept his hug without a care for your initial goal.

you pat his head, running your hands through his hair as you notice it has gotten quite long. he melts underneath your touch, and you smile fondly. "You okay?" you ask.

Wooyoung lifts his head, facing you. the two of you are inches apart, and your heart races at the close proximity. you can see his precious dot, as he likes to call it; your eyes trace his nose bridge as your gaze falls to his lips, eyeing the beauty mark on his bottom lip.

he bites his lower lip, and you glance back up to his eyes, noticing his gaze stuck on your lips as well. you wonder what he’s thinking.

you swiftly turn to your laptop, "So, how was class?" Your cheeks feel hot, and your chest burns. you were about two seconds away from saying fuck it and kissing him.

Wooyoung sighs, "It was okay I guess. Nothing interesting, I'd rather be with you."

your stomach lurches at his words, but you turn to him puzzled. "Isn't Miyu in your last class? What happened?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I've just realized there are more important things for me to focus on. More important people to focus on."

you stare at his unusual seriousness, "Ah... I see."

he suddenly smiles brightly, "Plus, I'd rather be around my Y/nie than any other girl!" he moves to hug you again, and you stare bitterly at the drink in front of you.

you would never get over him. it was like clockwork.

"Okay, let's go?" you ask Wooyoung, who is once again perched up on your bed as you exit your bathroom, spraying your perfume and eyeing the black bodycon dress that hugged your body flatteringly.

when you look up Wooyoung is standing with his arms crossed, mouth pursed in a pout. you raise your eyebrows at him, "What?"

he falls backward on your bed, facing the ceiling. "How is it possible to look that beautiful. I'll never know."

your heart jumps like it always does when he compliments you, though you giggle as you wave him off, "C'mon, Youngie, we’ll be late."

the two of you arrive at the club less than thirty minutes later, and Wooyoung laces his fingers with yours the moment you step in. you glance down, stomach swirling at the sight of the rings adorning his hands and prominent veins leading up his arms. you bite your lip and look up; you could not get distracted by his arms so early into the night.

"Wooyoung! Y/n! It's so good to see you." the tall bartender greets.

you smile up at him, "It's good to see you too, Mingi. I hope you're doing well,"

Mingi nods, "I am, and I'm doing even better after seeing you two. It's nice to see some familiar faces in this place."

"When you finish your shift you should come with us! We miss you, Mangi, it's been too long." Wooyoung whines from his place beside you. you roll your eyes at his antics, but you would be lying if you said you didn't miss Mingi too.

Mingi laughs, smiling at the two of you. "So, the usual?"

"Yup! Please and thank you." You grin cheekily. Mingi winks before leaving to get your drinks.

Wooyoung turns to you, "The others should be here any second now, I'm honestly shocked we got here first." You lean your head on Wooyoung's shoulder, unable to hear his breath hitch due to the loud music, "I'm not really surprised, we've always been punctual people."

you lift your head and smile at him, faces close as you wink, "That's why we get along so well."

Wooyoung gulps at your closeness as he smiles nervously, "Yeah, I really hate people who are late." You giggle and nod, understanding him completely.

a large figure runs into Wooyoung from behind as their arms wrap around him, and you laugh as you watch San smile at you from his place on Wooyoung's shoulder, "Hi, Y/nie! Youngie! I've missed you guys so much, it's been like, forever!"

"It's actually been three days, but I gather that's too long for you two." you tease, and Wooyoung pouts at you as he turns around to hug San properly.

San moves to hug you next, "Yeosang and Hongjoong are using the bathroom, those two losers drank too much water or something." San looks disgusted as Wooyoung giggles.

"TMI Sannie, TMI," you say stifling a laugh. San was very close to Wooyoung, and very similar to Wooyoung. those two were the cutest platonic soulmates you've seen, and it has always been fun when they were together.

"What did you tell them, San-ah?" a deep voice deadpans from behind you. you turn to see Yeosang and Hongjoong, squinting at San as he hides behind Wooyoung.

you jump out of your seat, "Sangie!" you run into his arms, squeezing him tightly. "I missed you so much, you barely come to these events anymore." You pout up at him as he smiles, "Sorry, Y/n, I've been a little busy, but I promise I'll try to come as often as I can."

Hongjoong stands to the side, "The fuck am I? Chopped liver?"

you break away from Yeosang and giggle as you move to hug Hongjoong as well, "Hi, Joongie. I missed you as well, even if I saw you two days ago."

"Uh-huh. Sure." Hongjoong says dismissively, though the smile on his face tells a different story.

the four of you move to a booth, ordering another round of drinks along with some food. the night is fun, filled with laughter and jokes as you watch Wooyoung and Hongjoong bicker like children. you are almost finished your meal when you spot a familiar head through the crowd.

"I'll be right back, I want to go say hi to someone," you tell them, taking a sip of your drink before sliding out of the booth as you stare at your target.

Wooyoung eyes you from his seat, ignoring the looks of mirth he gets from his friends. you look amazing tonight, just as you do every night, and it's been hard for him to not want to keep his arms wrapped around you the whole time. not because of others staring, but because of how irresistible you look. he wonders who you have left to speak to, but once he gets a glimpse of their face, he scowls.

Yeonjun.

"Yeonjun! Hi!" you greet, smiling toothily at the tall man.

he looks shocked for a moment before his face relaxes at the sight of you, "Hey, Y/n, how's it going?" he moves to hug you, arms covering your torso as you stretch to hug his neck. you feel as though someone is staring at you from behind, but shrug it off as you look back to Yeonjun.

"It's good! Hongjoong, Yeosang, and Wooyoung are over there." You point back to them, and Yeonjun glances at the table, coughing when he sees Wooyoung glaring at him.

"Oh, that's cool. I came with Beomgyu, and HueningKai. They're over there getting shitfaced as we speak."

you look behind him and find the two of them dancing sloppy and chuckle at the sight. "And let me guess, you are the responsible parent for the night?"

Yeonjun sighs, "Unfortunately. Without me, these idiots wouldn't end up home most nights."

you nod at him, amused.

"So, how's everything with Mr. Loverboy?" Yeonjun asks, tilting his head toward Wooyoung. you glance back and catch Wooyoung's eye; he smiles charmingly, and you grin back before facing Yeonjun, and your face drops. "I actually have no idea. Sometimes it feels like we're having a moment, but then he treats me like normal, so I'm not really sure."

you exhale, "If there's one thing I know, though, it's that he isn't interested in any girl right now. He told me he has more important things and people to focus on or something like that."

you smile sadly, "I wonder if it's too naive to think it's me."

Yeonjun scoffs loudly, and you look up to him startled. "Listen, if I wasn't sure before, I am sure now. Wooyoung most definitely feels the same way about you." he leans down to your ear, feeling only slightly scared as Wooyoung glowers at him from across the room. "Not only was he incredibly jealous the first time I met him, but he has been shooting daggers at me since you approached me."

Yeonjun lifts his head and smiles encouragingly, "I'm sure all he needs is a little push, and he'll confess. Don't give up yet, Y/n. He's almost there, I can tell."

you look at Yeonjun, not very convinced though not as dejected as before. "Okay, yeah. I should get back."

You glance at his friends, "Good luck with those two, let me know if I can help." You smile, giggling when Yeonjun sighs dramatically at the sight of them.

"Don't worry, I can handle them. You should focus on the jealous boy who's waiting for you across the room." Yeonjun waves before giving you a little push towards Wooyoung, "Please, go before he rips my head off."

you roll your eyes with a chuckle, smiling as you wave and make your way back to your friends and Wooyoung. you attempt to swiftly pass the people dancing, but you get caught up in the crowd, losing sight of the table and struggling to get out.

when a hand grabs at your wrist, you flinch, moving back as you cradle your arm against you protectively. "Hey, sweetness," a gruff voice comes and you glance up to see an older man with missing teeth.

Just what you needed.

your hands shake as you attempt to move past him, "Sorry, not interested." but he grabs your arm again and you rip it out of his grasp for the second time.

"I said I'm not interested."

he laughs, and you can smell his rancid breath from where you stand. "You don't mean that, c'mon, why else would you be wearing that?" Your face drops at his comment, and your mind races as you wonder if you'll be able to run fast enough to lose him. you glance at the dancing bodies surrounding you, realizing that was highly unlikely.

but before you can panic any longer, a familiar scent fills your senses as you are pulled into someone's chest. you flinch again, still jittery, but when you see Wooyoung you relax immediately.

Wooyoung curls an arm around your waist and you sink into his embrace, "She said she’s not interested, you fucking loser." he glowers, face devoid of the usual joy it contains, as his eyes are hardened with protectiveness.

“Well, maybe she shouldn't be wearing that outfit if she didn't want the attention!" the man yells, causing people to look your way as a circle forms surrounding the three of you. you tug at Wooyoungs arm when you see his nose flare in anger not wanting things to get physical, "Wooyoung, fuck this idiot, don't bother with him," you glance up at the man before you,

"He has enough problems, like the fact that he wakes up every day looking like that." You sneer.

Wooyoung grins, "Good point."

the man opens his mouth in fury, but he gets interrupted, "Is there a problem here?" Two security guards approach and the man pales. you interject before he can speak, "Yes, actually. This guy grabbed me twice when I said I wasn't interested."

the man flails uselessly as the two men escort him out, cursing at them in rage. a rather anticlimactic ending to such a panic-inducing situation, but you gratefully accept it. you exhale once they are out of sight, relaxing onto Wooyoung as he wraps both of his arms around your waist. you feel exhausted, though Wooyoung feels comforting around you, and you do not wish to move.

"Y/nie, let's go home?" he whispers in your ear, and you nod slowly before turning around and burying your face in his neck. Wooyoung, your Wooyoungie. you feel tears spring to your eyes, because the truth is he wasn't yours.

perfect, protective, kind, thoughtful, and sweet Wooyoung was not yours, and you find that thought a little harder to digest right now. Wooyoung feels something wet on his neck as he looks down at you worriedly, "Y/n? Are you okay?"

you don't respond, clutching him harder as he curses before maneuvering you outside.

the cooler night air feels refreshing as it greets you, and you sniffle once the door closes and you are alone with Wooyoung. "What's wrong, Y/nie? Talk to me, pretty."

another tear streams down your face at the term of endearment as you push him away frustrated. "Don't call me that!"

Wooyoung's face drops, "Don't call you pretty?" he looks at you helplessly, "I-I'm sorry, but I don't- Are you upset about what just happened? Because why does it seem like you're upset with me?"

you wipe your tears, annoyed with your shaky hands and legs that felt much too like jello. "I am upset! I'm scared because that was a really scary situation to be in, but more importantly, I'm upset with you!"

Wooyoung looks heartbroken, his hand reaching out to you before falling to his side.

"It's not fucking fair, okay? You don't get to buy me sweet drinks and get possessive when I flirt with someone, and then glare daggers into guys I'm just friends with and protect me from creepy ugly men without me catching feelings for you!" you cry out, breathing heavily as you continue.

"I'm so tired of the shitty butterflies I get when I see you, or the sadness I feel when you look at every girl but me, and most of all I'm sick of your stupid pretty lips that look way too pretty to be real and- now I'm rambling about your lips being pretty-"

he grabs your cheeks gently, pushing his lips onto yours and your brain short circuits. your hands lift unsure, before finding purchase on Wooyoung's broad shoulders as you part your mouth, a small noise leaving your throat when he bites your bottom lip gently.

he pulls back first, and you swallow the whine you want to let out. "I have feelings for you too, Y/n. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure that out, but I'm here now." he smiles unsure, "And uh, if it's okay with you, I'd like to take you out on a date sometime. Or something like that." he says shyly.

you smile at his red cheeks before cupping his face and pulling him down into another kiss, this time taking your time as you slip your tongue in and tug gently on his bottom lip back with your teeth, before parting and giggling at his furious blush.

"I'd love to go on a date with you." You kiss his nose and smile before grabbing his hand and leading him back to the car. "And you're coming home with me tonight! I deserve cuddles," you demand as Wooyoung stares at you dopily from behind.

you would get all the cuddles you wanted, and more. Wooyoung would give the world to you if you asked, because that was exactly what you deserved.

Extra:

“C’mon, Junnie. Don’t be scared. I just want to introduce you two since you both mean so much to me,” you whine at Yeonjun, pulling his arm as he shakes his head back and forth.

he whines back at you, “Why would you subject me to this knowing how Wooyoung feels about me? You are cruel, Y/n. Very cruel."

you roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior, “This is exactly what I mean when I say your extra ass will get along with Wooyoung. You two act so similar it’s honestly kind of scary.”

“Yeah, except I don’t glare at people when I feel jealous.” he crosses his arms, staring at the ‘Welcome’ sign in front of the cafe Wooyoung was waiting for you two at.

you push him closer to the door, “Please, Junnie? It would really mean a lot to me,” you beg softly, knowing Yeonjun wouldn’t be able to handle your sad eyes.

he sighs, head falling down before he looks back up, “Fine, fine. Just stop looking like a kicked puppy.”

you cheer with your arms up, smiling happily as you drag him inside.

“Wooyo!” you call, watching Wooyoung look up with a cute smile. you let go of Yeonjun's arm as you take quick steps toward your boyfriend, “I know you two know each other already, but this is time for re-introductions.” you state seriously, grabbing Wooyoung's hand softly.

he stares at you sulking, but listens obediently. “Wooyoung, this is Yeonjun, one of my close friends. Yeonjun, this is Wooyoung, my boyfriend! I hope you guys can get along well.”

the two of them wave half-heartedly, mumbling ‘hellos’ but you figure that’s good enough for now. “Okay, I’ll go grab the food then,”

you ignore the way both of them turn to you with wide eyes, smirking as you approach the front and leave them alone with one another.

Wooyoung glares at Yeonjun as he avoids eye contact, finding the stain on the table much more interesting. “So. Yeonjun, I’ll be frank, do you like Y/n?”

Yeonjun's eyes snap to Wooyoung's serious ones as he sighs, “No, I only like her as a friend, I promise.” Wooyoung sits back unconvinced as he crosses his arms. Yeonjun figures he should come clean and explain himself properly, for your sake at the very least.

“I understand why you would be skeptical, especially since we did flirt before, but neither of us actually felt anything for each other from the start. We may have tried, but Y/n was way too in love with you to even bother looking at me, and I was still getting over a breakup so I never really looked at her like that.” he bites his lip, glancing at Wooyoungs face for a reaction and is in shock when he sees Wooyoung... blushing.

“She’s… in love with me?” he smiles elated, and Yeonjun wonders if he spoke too much. “Well, yeah? I thought… oh fuck.” he rubs his hands on his face; he was just fucking up one thing after the other.

he places his hands on the table as he watches you pick up the food making your way back to the table, “Okay, please keep this conversation to yourself otherwise I will never see the light of day again.”

Wooyoung giggles, “Mmhm, no worries!” he looks the happiest Yeonjun has ever seen him, and he sighs as he figures Wooyoung wouldn’t out him immediately at least.

you place the tray of food on the table, “What’s got you so happy, Woo?” you ask, smiling at his very obvious joy.

“Nothing, nothing,” he winks at Yeonjun, and he has to stop himself from face palming.

you glance at Yeonjun amused, “Okay, you guys can keep your secrets, don’t mind me.”

the rest of the lunch goes by shockingly pleasant, as Wooyoung and Yeonjun get along just like you knew they would. by the time the three of you are leaving the cafe, Yeonjun and Wooyoung have their arms intertwined as Wooyoung tells Yeonjun about the time he free styled for his dance exam after someone stole his choreography, Yeonjun listening intently as his mouth parts in awe.

you giggle as you watch them from behind. sure, Yeonjun might be your new rival for Wooyoung’s attention, but so long as Wooyoung was happy, you didn’t mind. the grin on your face only grows when you watch them hug goodbye.

this was your true happy ending.

unofficial tags: @scuzmunkie

#ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez x you #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung x y/n

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novaursa · 1 month ago

Text

Between Pride and Fire

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Note: You guys can consider this to be a serious version of Flames in the West story. I'm not sure when this will fall into schedule, probably when one of my main stories is finished. It also depends how much you guys like this one.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: the fire

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: Unplanned post, but since is a Lannister day on my blog: enjoy. 🙂

The Kingswood hums with the sounds of the royal hunt, a symphony of rustling leaves, hounds baying, and the occasional barked order from the hunters. The scent of pine and damp earth mingles with the sweet aroma of roasted meats from the sprawling encampment. It is a grand affair, organized to celebrate Prince Aegon's second nameday. Tents of crimson and black flutter in the breeze, and courtiers buzz with laughter and gossip like a swarm of bees.

You walk side by side with your elder sister, Rhaenyra. The sunlight filters through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on her face as she strides gracefully, her expression a mixture of bemusement and mild irritation.

"Another one," she mutters under her breath, nodding discreetly toward a young lord across the way who is staring at her as though she hung the moon. "They follow me like vultures circling a carcass. It’s maddening."

You stifle a laugh, your hand brushing her arm as you offer a teasing smile. "Surely, sister, you cannot blame them. The Realm’s Delight is a prize worth vying for, is she not?"

She rolls her eyes but can’t hide the faint smirk tugging at her lips. "A prize I have no desire to grant. Honestly, Y/N, you’re fortunate. No one looks to you with such hunger in their eyes. The heir’s crown serves as both lure and snare."

You shrug nonchalantly. "Perhaps I simply lack your allure. Or perhaps they fear I’d set them ablaze before entertaining their overtures."

Rhaenyra chuckles, her earlier irritation melting away. "Yes, I can picture it. Lord Wylde reduced to ash before he could finish his ridiculous sonnet. What a sight that would be."

"Wylde's sonnet was tame compared to Lord Tyrell’s attempt at a serenade," you retort, voice dripping with mock horror. "That poor man cannot carry a tune to save his life."

The two of you dissolve into laughter, the kind shared only between sisters. It feels like old times, before the weight of titles and expectations pressed down upon your shoulders.

But then, from the corner of your eye, you catch sight of Jason Lannister. He strides through the camp, every bit the lion, dressed in rich red and gold with his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. His piercing gaze sweeps the clearing until it lands squarely on Rhaenyra. A confident smile spreads across his face as he changes course, heading directly toward her.

Your heart skips—not from interest but from mischief. Leaning closer to Rhaenyra, you murmur, "I believe the proud lion is about to leap. Good luck, dear sister."

Rhaenyra glances toward Jason, her brows lifting in resigned amusement. "Y/N, don’t you dare leave me—"

But you’re already retreating, your grin widening as you wave her off. "You’re the Realm’s Delight, Rhaenyra. Surely, you can handle one arrogant lion."

Rhaenyra’s glare burns into your back as Jason approaches her, his stride full of confidence. You chuckle softly to yourself, quickening your steps toward where Ser Gwayne Hightower is practicing his archery. The rhythmic thud of arrows hitting the target fills the air as you approach.

Ser Gwayne lowers his bow when he sees you, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Come to show me up, have you?"

You pick up a bow from the nearby rack, testing its weight. "Perhaps. Someone needs to ensure you don’t grow too proud, Ser Gwayne."

He chuckles, stepping aside to give you space. "Very well, princess. Let’s see if your aim is as sharp as your wit."

Nocking an arrow, you draw the bowstring back, feeling the satisfying tension. You release, the arrow flying straight and true, embedding itself near the center of the target. Gwayne whistles appreciatively.

"You’ve been practicing," he says, clearly impressed.

"Idle hands are the devil’s playthings," you reply lightly, nocking another arrow. "And I’ve no desire to become rusty."

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, trading shots and quips. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Jason Lannister speaks animatedly to Rhaenyra. His body language exudes confidence, but even from this distance, you can see the tight set of Rhaenyra’s jaw.

"Poor Lord Jason," Gwayne remarks, following your gaze. "He’s about to learn that the princess’s tongue is sharper than any blade."

You smirk, releasing another arrow. "If he were foolish enough to direct his attentions toward me, he’d leave with his pride in tatters."

Gwayne snickers. "And likely a new nickname for his troubles."

The two of you share a conspiratorial laugh, pausing to observe the exchange between Rhaenyra and Jason. It’s a masterclass in polite rejection. Rhaenyra’s words are measured, her tone as sweet as honey, but the subtle steel beneath them leaves no room for misinterpretation. Jason’s confident smile falters, replaced by a flicker of confusion and embarrassment.

"She has a gift," Gwayne says, shaking his head in admiration. "The lion won’t be roaring anytime soon."

You lower your bow, resting it against the ground as you watch Jason retreat with his tail between his legs. A wave of pride swells in your chest—not for his failure, but for Rhaenyra’s poise and strength. She glances in your direction, catching your eye, and you flash her a knowing grin.

Rhaenyra shakes her head, her lips twitching in reluctant amusement before she turns back toward the camp, leaving Jason to lick his wounds.

"Come," you say to Gwayne, shouldering your bow. "I believe we’ve lingered here long enough. There’s a feast to attend, and I wouldn’t miss the chance to see the lion humbled among the other lords."

Gwayne grins, falling into step beside you. "Lead the way, princess. Lead the way."

Jason Lannister stormed through the camp, his boots crunching against the dry pine needles scattered across the forest floor. His usual confident stride was replaced with something more forceful, his frustration evident in the tension of his shoulders. A passing servant barely avoided being bowled over as Jason muttered a curt apology, his mind too preoccupied to care.

When he finally reached the Lannister encampment, he spotted the familiar figure of his twin brother, Tyland, seated on a richly upholstered chair beneath their family’s crimson-and-gold banner. Tyland held a goblet in one hand, the other idly flipping through a letter sealed with the sigil of House Hightower. Unlike Jason’s hunt-worn attire, Tyland looked pristine, dressed in a doublet of fine wool with a thin gold chain marking his position on King Viserys’s small council.

Tyland glanced up as Jason approached, immediately noting the sour look on his brother’s face. His lips curled into an amused smirk. “Ah, there you are. Back so soon? I thought you’d be off charming the princess until sundown.”

Jason grunted, throwing himself into a nearby chair. He reached for the wine pitcher without waiting for an invitation, pouring himself a generous amount. “It didn’t go as planned.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Didn’t go as planned?” he echoed. “Care to elaborate, or shall I guess?”

Jason took a long gulp of wine before setting the goblet down with more force than necessary. “She rejected me,” he said bluntly, though the admission clearly stung his pride. “Barely let me finish before she made it abundantly clear she had no interest in me, or Casterly Rock, or any of it.”

Tyland’s laughter was immediate and unrestrained. “Of course she did,” he said, shaking his head. “Did you honestly expect anything else? Rhaenyra Targaryen isn’t exactly known for her warmth toward unsolicited marriage proposals.”

Jason glared at him. “I thought she’d at least consider it. Casterly Rock is the wealthiest seat in the realm, and I’m—”

“—And you’re Jason Lannister,” Tyland interrupted, still grinning. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before. But wealth and a golden mane only get you so far with a woman like Rhaenyra. You should be grateful you walked away with your pride still intact.”

Jason snorted. “Intact? Hardly. She dismissed me as if I were some… some common hedge knight. I’ve never been humiliated like that in my life.”

Tyland leaned back in his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. “Humiliated, perhaps. But consider yourself lucky her younger sister wasn’t there to witness it. She’d have had you on your knees, begging for mercy, and not in the way you’d prefer.”

Jason frowned, his frustration momentarily giving way to curiosity. “Her sister?” he repeated. “Y/N? What does she have to do with this?”

Tyland smirks, clearly enjoying this. "Yes, Y/N. Sweet as honey to those she likes but sharp as Valyrian steel to those she doesn’t. If you think Rhaenyra's rejection stung, imagine Y/N standing there, her silver tongue slicing you apart for all to see. That girl could cut you down with words alone and still make you thank her for the privilege."

Jason frowns, clearly intrigued despite himself. "I’ve heard of her, but she’s always so… quiet. Reserved. She doesn’t draw attention the way Rhaenyra does."

"That’s because she doesn’t need to," Tyland counters. "Y/N has an elegance about her that speaks for itself. And she’s clever—far too clever for the likes of you. If she had been there, she might have taken pity on you and spared you some embarrassment… or she might have joined her sister in putting you in your place."

Jason leans against the table, his expression thoughtful now. "You seem to know her well."

Tyland shrugs, a casual gesture that belies his keen interest. "I live in the capital, remember? I’ve had plenty of opportunities to observe the royal family. Y/N is a force to be reckoned with, even if she doesn’t flaunt it like her sister. Quiet strength can be far more dangerous than loud defiance."

Jason falls silent, his earlier frustration giving way to a strange sense of curiosity. He swirls the remaining wine in his goblet, his gaze distant. "She sounds… intriguing."

Tyland snorts, clapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder. "Don’t get any ideas, Jason. If you couldn’t handle Rhaenyra, you’d stand no chance with her sister. Y/N would chew you up and spit you out before you even knew what hit you."

Jason’s lips twitch into a faint smile, the first hint of humor he’s shown since his defeat. "Perhaps. But I’ve always enjoyed a challenge."

Tyland shakes his head, laughing softly. "Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when you find yourself at the mercy of her sharp tongue. I won’t be offering any sympathy."

Jason raises his goblet in a mock toast, his confidence slowly returning. "We’ll see, Tyland. We’ll see."

And as the sun dips lower in the sky, Jason can’t help but wonder if his brother’s words hold some truth. Perhaps he had been barking up the wrong tree with Rhaenyra. Perhaps the younger sister, with her quiet strength and sharp wit, is a far more interesting quarry.

The next two days unfold in a haze of royal festivity and anticipation for the grand hunt. The sprawling camp is alive with the sounds of nobles exchanging pleasantries, servants bustling about their duties, and hounds barking eagerly as they prepare for the event. The chatter of excited courtiers fills the air as word spreads that the trackers have caught sight of a rare and noble beast—a white stag, a creature of myth and legend, said to be a symbol of divine favor.

Jason Lannister moves through the camp with his usual air of lion-like confidence, but behind the facade, his attention is sharply attuned to a singular presence. He is too shrewd to make his interest known, especially in a camp teeming with gossip-hungry lords and ladies. Instead, he watches her—you—from the corners of his eyes, his gaze lingering longer than it should but never openly.

The first time he notices you, you are seated near your sister, Rhaenyra, under the shade of a large oak tree. A circle of ladies surrounds the two of you, their laughter ringing out as they trade jests and gossip. You are quieter than the others, a soft smile playing on your lips as you listen. But when you speak, it is with precision, your words measured and thoughtful. Jason can’t hear what you’re saying from his position by the wine tent, but he sees the way Rhaenyra throws her head back with a laugh, the way the ladies lean in closer, eager to catch every word.

He notes the contrast between you and your elder sister. Where Rhaenyra’s beauty is fiery and commanding, yours is softer, like moonlight. You lack her overt confidence, but there is a quiet strength in the way you carry yourself, in the way your eyes—so strikingly silver in the sunlight—observe the world around you with keen intelligence.

"You're staring," Tyland's voice cuts into his thoughts, low and amused.

Jason doesn’t flinch, though the accusation is true. Instead, he takes a sip from his goblet and turns his gaze to the horizon, feigning disinterest. "Just observing the royal family. It’s an important skill for any lord."

Tyland snorts softly, not fooled in the least. "If you say so. But remember what I said: tread carefully. That one could cut you down with a glance if she wanted to."

Jason merely hums, his expression unreadable.

The second time he sees you, it is near the practice field. The younger knights and squires are sparring under the watchful eyes of Ser Harwin Strong and Ser Criston Cole. You are seated on the edge of the field, your skirts tucked neatly under you as you watch the bouts unfold. Gwayne Hightower stands beside you, his bow in hand, and the two of you appear to be engaged in an animated conversation.

Jason watches from a distance, leaning casually against a post, his arms crossed. He tells himself it is mere coincidence that he is here at all, that he simply enjoys watching the sparring matches. But his gaze keeps drifting toward you, drawn by the way your face lights up when you laugh at something Gwayne says or the way your head tilts thoughtfully when you respond.

"Your aim is improving," you remark, your voice carrying over the clatter of wooden swords.

Gwayne grins, clearly pleased. "I’ve had an excellent teacher."

You roll your eyes, though your smile softens the gesture. "Don’t let it go to your head, Ser Gwayne."

Jason smirks faintly at the exchange. Gwayne Hightower, ever the charmer. Still, Jason notes the ease with which you speak to the knight, the natural camaraderie that seems to flow between you. He finds himself wondering what it might be like to stand where Gwayne does, to earn your laughter and your trust.

On the third morning, as the trackers return with news of the white stag’s sighting, Jason spots you walking along the edge of the camp. You are alone for once, a rare sight, your hands clasped behind your back as you stroll through the dappled sunlight. You stop occasionally to inspect a wildflower or to watch the birds flitting through the trees, your expression serene.

Jason lingers near a group of lords discussing the hunt, his posture casual as he watches you from the corner of his eye. There is something almost ethereal about you in this moment, the way the sunlight catches in your silver hair and the way your gown sways gently with your steps. You seem utterly removed from the noise and chaos of the camp, lost in a world of your own.

"Lord Lannister," one of the lords says, drawing his attention back to the conversation. "What are your thoughts on the white stag? Do you think it will grant its favor to the king?"

Jason forces a polite smile, his mind still half-focused on you. "The stag is a rare and noble beast. If it truly is the king’s favor we seek, we’ll need more than luck to claim it."

The lords murmur their agreement, and the conversation moves on. But Jason’s thoughts linger on you, wondering what it is that draws him so strongly. You are no shy maiden, despite your quiet demeanor. There is a fire in you, a sharpness hidden beneath the surface, and Jason finds himself both intrigued and cautious.

As you disappear from view, Jason allows himself a small smile. He may not approach you yet, but the hunt is only beginning—and he is nothing if not a patient man.

The royal pavilion is a grand affair, its interior rich with opulence. Thick tapestries embroidered with the Targaryen sigil hang from gilded supports, while plush cushions and carved chairs surround a low table laden with wine and fruit. King Viserys lounges at the center of the gathering, his expression warm and genial as he speaks with his advisors. The air is filled with laughter and the low hum of conversation, a brief reprieve from the bustling chaos of the camp outside.

Jason Lannister steps inside with practiced ease, his crimson-and-gold attire catching the flicker of sunlight that filters through the pavilion’s open sides. He offers a polite bow to the king, who acknowledges him with a wave of his hand. Jason’s green eyes scan the room with purpose until they land on you.

You are seated beside your father, a picture of poise and grace, your gown the color of soft lavender, the fabric shimmering faintly in the light. Your hair is elegantly arranged, and though you sit quietly, your violet eyes miss nothing as they flick between the speakers in the circle. Jason’s lips curl into a faint smile.

He approaches, weaving his way through the gathered nobles. Otto Hightower and Lyonel Strong are deep in discussion, their tones measured and serious. Jason, however, has only one target in mind.

"Lord Jason Lannister," King Viserys greets him with a wide smile, gesturing for him to join the circle. "What brings you here? Surely you’re not seeking Rhaenyra. She’s off riding, I believe."

Jason chuckles, offering a respectful bow before taking a seat across from you. "Your Grace, while the princess is, of course, a delight, it is not her company I seek at this moment." His eyes flick briefly to you before he adds smoothly, "I was hoping to enjoy the company of this esteemed circle—and perhaps learn more of the Targaryen way of thinking."

Viserys laughs, clearly pleased by the flattery. "You’ve chosen a good time, then. There’s plenty of wisdom to be found here."

You raise an eyebrow, meeting Jason’s gaze for the first time. There’s a flicker of amusement in your expression, though your tone is polite when you speak. "And what wisdom do you seek, my lord? Surely the Lord of Casterly Rock does not lack for advisers."

Jason leans back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "True, but wisdom comes in many forms. And who better to learn from than those who carry the blood of dragons?"

The remark is calculated—just enough praise to intrigue without seeming obsequious. But you aren’t so easily swayed.

"Flattery is a poor substitute for genuine insight," you reply smoothly. "Do you have a specific question, or is this merely an exercise in rhetoric?"

A low chuckle ripples through the circle at your retort, and Jason’s smile deepens. "Sharp as Valyrian steel," he remarks, his tone light but edged with challenge. "I see the rumors of your wit are not exaggerated."

"I didn’t realize I was the subject of rumors," you say, tilting your head slightly. "Should I be flattered or concerned, Lord Lannister?"

"Flattered, I’d hope," Jason replies, his tone almost playful now. "Though I’ll admit, the reality far surpasses the tales."

You smirk faintly, leaning forward just enough to meet his gaze directly. "Careful, my lord. If your tongue grows any sweeter, you might choke on it."

The circle erupts in laughter, including King Viserys, who shakes his head with a chuckle. Jason takes the barb in stride, his own amusement evident. "A fair warning, my lady," he concedes. "But I find sharp tongues far more interesting than dull ones."

The verbal sparring continues, your exchanges quick and clever, each testing the other’s wit. Though your words are pointed, Jason finds himself enjoying the clash, his earlier frustrations with Rhaenyra fading into irrelevance. You are different—more elusive, more challenging. And though you clearly find him exasperating, he can’t help but admire the fire in your words.

Finally, you grow bored of the game. Rising gracefully, you offer a small curtsy to the king and the circle. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve had enough of this wisdom for now."

Before you leave, you glance back at Jason, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Do try not to choke further on your words, my lord. It would be such a waste."

Jason can’t help but grin as you sweep out of the pavilion, leaving a ripple of confusion in your wake. He hesitates only a moment before rising to follow, offering a quick bow to the king.

As the flap of the pavilion closes behind him, King Viserys furrows his brow, glancing at Otto and Lyonel. "What just happened?"

Otto shakes his head, clearly at a loss. Lyonel, however, chuckles softly, a knowing gleam in his eye. "I believe, Your Grace, we’ve just witnessed the beginnings of a most interesting… acquaintance."

The camp buzzes with activity as the hunting parties prepare to set out for the day. Lords don their finest riding cloaks and sharpen their weapons, eager for a chance to prove themselves in the shadow of royalty. Amidst the controlled chaos, Jason Lannister moves with unusual purpose. His hunting gear is immaculate—gold-trimmed leathers and a crimson cloak embroidered with the proud lion of his house. His bow and quiver are slung over his back, and his boots crunch over the pine needles with confidence as he strides to join the assembled lords.

There is a fire in his step, a sharpness to his movements that hasn’t gone unnoticed. A small group of nobles, already gathered near the edge of the camp, exchange curious glances as Jason approaches. Lord Tarly, a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and a no-nonsense demeanor, leans slightly toward Lord Redwyne, his voice low but audible enough to carry.

"Well, that’s unexpected," Tarly mutters. "I thought we’d see a lion licking his wounds today."

Jason catches the remark as he joins the group, his golden eyes sharp and bright with amusement. He adjusts the strap of his quiver and offers a half-smile. "And why would that be, Lord Tarly? Do you doubt the resilience of Casterly Rock’s finest?"

Tarly shrugs, his expression as blunt as his tone. "Not doubt, my lord, just surprised. Word travels fast in a camp like this. I’d have thought Princess Rhaenyra’s rejection would’ve… dampened your spirits."

A ripple of polite but tense silence follows. Redwyne shifts uncomfortably, as though expecting an outburst. But Jason surprises them all with a hearty laugh, rich and unapologetic.

"My spirits?" Jason says, his voice light but carrying an edge of steel. "Forgive me, my lords, but I hardly find myself distraught over it. Rhaenyra Targaryen is a remarkable woman, no doubt, but Casterly Rock has seen enough proud lions to survive without her grace blessing its halls."

The honesty of his words catches the group off guard. Redwyne arches a brow, while Tarly folds his arms across his chest, his curiosity piqued.

"So, you’re saying you don’t care?" Tarly presses, his tone skeptical. "You made your offer, and she turned it down. Just like that?"

Jason’s smile doesn’t falter. Instead, he steps closer to his horse, running a gloved hand over its sleek mane as he speaks. "Let me be clear, Lord Tarly. I offered Rhaenyra the chance to stand beside me at Casterly Rock because it seemed… appropriate. A lion and a dragon—what better match? But I won’t beg for anyone’s hand, no matter how highborn. If she doesn’t want it, that’s her choice."

He swings himself into the saddle with effortless grace, his posture regal as he looks down at the gathered lords. "There’s no dishonor in a woman knowing her own mind. I respect her decision, even if it wasn’t the answer I expected. And if I’m being honest…"

Jason pauses, his gaze briefly distant, as though considering his next words carefully. Then his smile returns, sharper this time, and unmistakably genuine.

"…I’ve come to realize that perhaps my attention was misplaced from the start."

The lords exchange puzzled looks, the weight of Jason’s words hanging in the air like an unsolved riddle. Redwyne, ever the diplomat, clears his throat and offers a conciliatory nod.

"Well said, Lord Jason. And what of today’s hunt? Do you aim to claim the white stag yourself?"

Jason chuckles, taking up the reins of his horse. "Perhaps, though I care little for the stag’s favor. Today, my aim is to prove that a lion’s pride lies in its strength, not in the approval of others."

With that, he spurs his horse forward, leading the group toward the hunting grounds. The lords follow, their expressions ranging from confusion to admiration. Jason rides ahead, his thoughts not on Rhaenyra or even the stag but on you—your sharp wit, your violet eyes, and the challenge you present.

He doesn’t understand why he feels this pull toward you, but the hunt, it seems, is far from over.

The forest was filled with the crisp sounds of rustling leaves and the occasional call of a distant stag. Your hunting party moved in a tight formation through the Kingswood, banners bearing the Targaryen dragon trailing behind. Mounted on a sleek mare, you led the group with quiet authority, your sharp eyes scanning the trees for signs of prey. The air was thick with anxiety, the hounds sniffing eagerly at the ground as your trackers scouted ahead.

A crackle of underbrush to your left drew your attention, and moments later, a second hunting party emerged from the thicket. At their head was none other than Jason Lannister, sitting astride a magnificent golden courser. His crimson-and-gold cloak billowed slightly in the breeze, and his confident smirk was firmly in place as his eyes locked on you.

"Well, well," Jason called, reining in his horse as his party slowed to a halt. "If it isn’t the princess herself, gracing the forest with her presence. Tell me, Your Highness, have you come to steal my kill? Or are you here merely to admire my skill?"

Your lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile forming as you met his gaze. "Lord Lannister, your delusions of grandeur are almost as persistent as an outbreak of greyscale. Difficult to rid oneself of and twice as irritating."

A few chuckles rippled through your party, and Jason’s grin only widened. "Greyscale, is it? And here I thought I was merely an affliction of the heart, not the skin."

"You flatter yourself," you replied, arching a brow. "No doubt you’ve convinced some poor fool of that before, but you’ll find me immune to such charms."

The lords and knights from both parties shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension beneath the playful banter. Lord Tarly, who had accompanied Jason, cleared his throat. "Shall we proceed, my lord? The trackers reported the stag heading east."

"And risk missing this delightful conversation?" Jason said, still smiling as he leaned forward slightly in his saddle. "I think not. Besides, it seems we’re headed in the same direction. I would hate for us to cross paths again in less… harmonious circumstances."

Your eyes narrowed slightly, catching the subtle challenge in his tone. "Are you suggesting we combine forces, Lord Lannister? Or are you simply trying to ensure you’re not humiliated when my party claims the stag first?"

Jason’s courser shifted beneath him, and he steadied it with practiced ease. "Humiliated? Hardly. But I’m not so proud as to ignore the merits of cooperation. Why not join our parties? We’ll share the hunt—and the glory."

Your party exchanged surprised glances, the tension easing slightly as they waited for your response. You studied Jason carefully, noting the faint twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He was testing you, as always, but there was an unexpected sincerity beneath his words.

"Very well," you said at last, your tone measured. "But if the stag escapes because of your cooperation, Lord Lannister, you’ll find yourself regretting it."

Jason laughed, a rich, unrestrained sound that echoed through the forest. "A bold claim, Princess. But I welcome the challenge."

With that, the two parties merged, the lords and knights falling into formation as the hunt resumed. The trackers moved ahead, their voices low as they followed the stag’s trail. Jason rode beside you, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, ever watchful.

"You’re surprisingly agreeable today," you remarked after a moment, glancing at him. "Should I be suspicious?"

Jason smirked, inclining his head slightly. "Perhaps I’m simply enjoying your company, Your Highness. Though I’ll admit, it’s not often I encounter someone who can match me word for word."

"Match you?" you repeated, your tone light but cutting. "I’d say I surpass you, my lord. But I suppose it’s commendable that you’re willing to admit defeat so graciously."

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. "I’m beginning to see why the dragon’s fire burns so brightly. It’s not the beast itself but the mind behind it."

You didn’t respond, though your lips curved into a faint smile as you urged your mare forward, leaving Jason trailing just behind. The lords and knights exchanged bemused looks, still trying to decipher the nature of the exchange between the two of you.

As the merged party moved deeper into the woods, the anticipation of the hunt took hold once more. But for Jason, the thrill wasn’t just in the chase—it was in the game you and he played with every word, every glance. And as the sun filtered through the trees, painting the forest floor in golden light, he found himself hoping the hunt would last just a little longer.

The forest had grown still as the merged hunting party pressed deeper into the Kingswood. The faint scent of earth and moss mingled with the crisp tang of the morning air, and every sound—each snap of a branch, each rustle of leaves—seemed amplified in the quiet. The hounds moved low to the ground, their ears pricked and noses working furiously as the trackers led the party toward the prize. Excitement rippled through the group; they were close.

Jason rode beside you, his golden courser nearly brushing against your mare. He leaned slightly toward you, his expression one of practiced confidence, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"When we catch up to the stag," he began, his voice low enough not to carry to the rest of the group, "you should let me take the killing blow."

You turned your head slowly, raising an unimpressed brow. "And why, pray tell, should I?"

"Because," Jason said, with the tone of someone explaining something simple to a child, "I am far more experienced in matters of the hunt than a young princess. You may have grace and charm, Your Highness, but it takes a steady hand and a practiced eye to fell a beast as noble as this."

You scoffed, sitting straighter in the saddle as you regarded him with an icy glare. "Far more experienced, are you? I accompanied my father on hunts as soon as I could ride. By the time I was ten, I could track a stag through mud and fire an arrow true from a moving horse. I’d wager I have more kills than you’ll ever claim in your entire life, Lord Lannister."

The surrounding lords, who had been listening with barely concealed interest, exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, a nervous young man whose name you hadn’t bothered to learn, cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Perhaps… we should keep our voices down," he said hesitantly. "The noise may scare the game away."

Jason turned his attention to the young lord, fixing him with a piercing gaze that was both amused and condescending. "Scaring the game away? My lord, you misunderstand. This is not an argument." He gestured between himself and you. "This is… a spirited exchange of ideas."

The young lord swallowed, clearly regretting his decision to speak. You rolled your eyes, gripping your reins tighter as you nudged your mare forward.

"Spirited exchange, indeed," you muttered under your breath.

The party rounded a small bend, and there it was—a magnificent stag, its coat chestnut as autumn leaves, standing regal and still in the clearing ahead. Its antlers, broad and intricate, caught the dappled sunlight streaming through the trees, making it appear almost otherworldly.

The group froze, each hunter carefully adjusting their position for the best shot. Jason’s hand moved to his bow, his movements deliberate as he spoke softly, still confident. "Stay back, Princess. I’ll handle this—"

But before he could even nock an arrow, you had already drawn yours. With a practiced ease that belied the tension in the air, you raised your bow, sighted your target, and released. The arrow flew true, slicing through the air with deadly precision and striking the stag directly in the eye.

The great beast staggered for a moment, its majestic frame wavering before collapsing silently to the ground. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the silence deafening as every pair of eyes turned to you.

Jason’s jaw tightened, though his expression was more astonished than angry. The lords, previously poised for action, stared in stunned silence, their weapons still at the ready but now unnecessary. Even the hounds, sensing the change in the air, hesitated, their excitement momentarily dulled.

Finally, you lowered your bow, exhaling slowly as you turned to face the group. "What was that you were saying about experience, Lord Lannister?" you asked, your voice calm but laced with triumph.

Jason blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched for a retort. But for once, the ever-confident lion seemed at a loss for words.

"Well," one of the older lords finally said, breaking the silence with an awkward cough. "That was… most impressive, Your Highness."

"Indeed," Jason said at last, his voice steady but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. "Impressive. Though I’m certain you’ll forgive me if I say I’m not entirely surprised. The dragon’s flame burns bright, after all."

You inclined your head slightly, acknowledging the compliment, though the faint smirk tugging at your lips showed you knew exactly how much it pained him to say it.

Without another word, you dismounted and approached the stag, the hounds now circling eagerly as the trackers moved in to inspect the kill. The lords followed suit, their admiration evident as they murmured amongst themselves.

Jason remained where he was for a moment longer, watching you with an expression that was equal parts frustration and intrigue. As much as your success rankled him, he couldn’t help but admire the precision, the confidence, the fire that had made it possible.

And as the party began preparing to move the stag back to camp, he realized something else—this was a hunt he’d never forget, not because of the kill, but because of you.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #hotd jason #jason lannister #jason x reader #jason x you #jason x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #between pride and fire

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