#no idea what he’d name her tho.

[coatas]

gives him a creature to love and take care of. yknow. as a treat.

(close ups under the cut)

[targaryenluvs]

DELICATE

pairings: dark!coriolanus snow x innocent!wife!reader

warnings: erm we’re back at it with another dark corio! possessiveness, literal murder, threats, vulgarity, nc touching -dumbification/babying, emotional manipulation and vulnerability, sexual undertones and thoughts, ownership?? NOT PROOFREAD

summary: coriolanus had to marry. lucky for him one of the most eligible girls of the capitol was up for grabs. only problem? he hoped his cold exterior would keep her away but nothing broke her sweet spirit. what happens when he finds himself being drawn to her light? and how far was he willing to go to keep it untainted and all to himself?

word count: 2.09k words

a/n: i swear i can only think of dark ideas for him because he is practically crayz - i loved this concept tho so enjoyyyy - annoyed i can’t find any post-lucy gifs snd i’ve already used the other one help me plz

taglist: @sleepydang @aspieundercover @darktrashsoulbear @3lliesrifle @rafeysbafey @zejjef @themorriganisamonster @cryfordemie @winterblu2 @earthangel-111 @taylarxse @alexameliamg @katastrophic04 @jjggdfvvy @joshwifeyslaymamaballs @10ava01 @kis9na @princessdaella @princessloveweird @prettybiching @justacaliforniandreamer @bxtchopolis @witchafterz @har-rison-s

PART TWO

coriolanus wanted nothing more than a relaxing night. he’d been at a campaign meeting for about four hours and he’d gotten absolutely nothing out of it.

he was in the right mind to fire them all and work it himself but he knew he couldn’t. all he wanted was to go home, have a bath drawn for him, eat dinner with you and go to sleep.

coriolanus had seen a number of weird things in his life but nothing was weirder than seeing you, hanging up the laundry to dry. you’d stopped him in his tracks but hadn’t yet noticed his presence as you hummed to yourself and went about your business. after staring in confusion for a few minutes he cleared his throat, “y/n. what are you doing?” you turned towards him with a smile, “it’s christmas! so i sent the staff home for the rest of the day so they could be with their families. don’t worry i had them prepare your bath, dinner and everything else. there were some things left to do so i thought, why not do them myself? i cleaned my room and yours, ironed the previous batch of laundry and placed them away, dusted the library and i was hanging up the laundry until you showed!” you beamed as you continued to hang the clothing.

coriolanus took a seat on one of the lawn chairs as you continued. he decided to watch you, to make sure you were okay. because who on earth wants to do laundry? that was the very reason you had so many servants. but here you were.

“you can head inside corio, no need to wait for me!” you said sweetly. coriolanus was a strong man, always rational. but god when you spoke so sweetly to him- no. “there’s no need, i’ll wait till you’re done.”

the sun was hanging low as the last rays illuminated the dining room. you’d set out candles, flowers and other pieces on the table. back home you loved setting the table, until your father would reprimand you for doing something you didn’t need to. what will people say if my daughter is acting as a servant?

but right now you felt at ease.

you had a good life. good friends which were rare to find in the capitol. good family and a good husband. he was proper, took care of you in every way, even if he didn’t love you, you were grateful to be married to someone you liked. admired. you’d heard whispers of corio’s childhood, his depleted resources and poor upbringing. but you couldn’t care less. he was more of a man than anyone you knew. and he was extremely pretty, your parents would’ve probably married you off to whomever they thought would help with social standings so this match? a lifeline.

coriolanus kept himself in check. he was up for presidency, his name and wealth restored and he was respected and feared. you were a diamond in the rough. whilst all the other girls in the capitol were, special, to say the least, you weren’t like them. first of all, he could tolerate you. like you even. you were exceptionally smart, well-read and spoken, respectful of those worthy but even those beneath you. you were kind, not the fake kind of the capitol. kind to everyone, helping everyone however you could.

and to him it was more than perfect. someone kind would be easy to have, easy to be married to. he knew from the second he saw you as marriage material that you’d never endanger those around you. you cared, enough to put your happiness to the back of the line. you’d be easy to control. after the wedding he expected you to be clingy, desperate for his love and affection. as any girl would from their husband, but you kept your distance. you didn’t push yourself on him, you did your duty. you did what was required and more. but you always listened, listened to him.

so he assumed you’d be easy to be married to, but he was always in awe of you. your sweet smiles every time you passed eachother in the halls, in the morning at breakfast and at night for dinner. always catering to him.

“what should i wear?” “you can choose.” “you tell me.” “it’s your choice.” and god did it inflate his ego. you were always asking about him, how his day was, what he did, who he saw etc. but it wasn’t just small talk, you were always listening. absorbing his words like a sponge, wide eyes, head nodding along dumbly. he loved it. and over the year he found himself, caring, on the inside at least.

every time you’d go out there were hungry eyes consuming you. your face, body everything. and he wanted to personally pluck out each eyeball and feed it to their families. so again, overtime, he’d shield you, protect you. his sweet wife who knew nothing of what the others wanted to do to her. a hand on your back, an arm around your waist, a peck on your forehead and his large red coat around you. all for show right?

he wanted to puke.

the smell of cabbage wafted to his nose and he was oh so close to putting this fist through the wall. who on earth-

you were humming, again. “corio!” your voice was music to his ears, corio, no one said it to him anymore. not even tigris. but he only liked, only wanted it to come from you. “dinner is served, some of your favourites are here. i asked tigris what you use to eat as a kid. ooh, you never told me you liked cabbage, me too! guess that’s another thing we have in common.” you beamed as you walked over with a bottle of wine, “tell me when to stop.”

he eyed you up the entire time. trying to catch a fleck of disgust whilst you ate, andddd, nothing. you weren’t lying, you actually liked it. he swallowed his own fear and began to eat.

“mm, i was wondering what you wanted me to wear tonight? i’d like to match corio, if that’s okay with you.” corio smiled slightly, “i would like to match. i have something i would like you to wear tonight sweetheart.” your eyes darted forwards as the word fell, sweetheart.

you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face, he only used terms like that in public. and based on his reaction afterwards, of which there was none, it meant that he probably didn’t even realise. or he did, you could never read him.

the red dress did things to coriolanus. the idea of you in it has his head spinning, but to actually see you in it? he wanted to throw you onto his bed and never let you out.

but to you it looked as if he was studying the dress rather than looking at you in it. “you look good.” you grinned, “thank you corio! i love your suit, you look very handsome.” you straightened his suit as he looked over your shoulder, your back was bare. “do you have a throw?” you quickly nodded and picked it up from the dresser. “good.” you already got a million stares in ordinary clothing, tonight was going to test his patience and anger.

the gala was gorgeous. for once there wasn’t ugly statues and weird color matches. a clean and pristine white hall, chandeliers, gold accents.

your heels clicked on the floor as coriolanus held his arm for you. “your hand please.” corio stared, waiting for your further explanation. “when we link arms your arm is too high for me. i end up with my arm at my neck.” you laughed as he lent his hand, which you gladly took.

stares and compliments at every corner of the room, everyone was looking at you two. the future president and first lady of panem. a match made in the capitol. you and coriolanus made the rounds, talking to present sponsors, potential sponsors and other candidates, much to coriolanus’s distaste. after a while you realised you were sort of just standing there, so you excused yourself for a drink and a closer view of the band.

“you look, ravishing.” charles operman. a sight which no one wanted to see, but to you he was just an ex-peer of the academy. “charles! thank you, corio picked it out for me.” you’d missed the way his jaw clenched at the mention of your husband, but you were to engrossed by the angelic singer and band. “you know, i always thought we’d end up together.”

the abruptness of his sentence had you choking on your drink, “excuse me, i’m married charles. i’m sorry if you thought that we would be together, i see you as a friend. i’d hate to lose a friend.” you smiled as he got uncomfortably closer and leaned into your ear, hand on your bare back.

coriolanus’s grip on his cup was tightening as he listened to lucky drone on and on. he wanted to see the life leave charles’s eyes, maybe his head would make as a nice present for you. “excuse me.” he nodded his head as he placed his cup on a passing waiters tray. you were helpless, and he was here to help you.

his breath was hot in your ear and you could smell the liquor on him as he was grabbed from you. “coriolanus, sir.” charles mocked salute as coriolanus stared at him, maybe he thought if he stared long enough hed burn into the floor. coriolanus rarely smiled, but this one was unsettling to say the least.

“if you ever put your hands on my wife, look at her, speak to her. it will be the last time you do so. i might just call in a favor with dr gaul, i hear your fond of snakes?” charles’s eyes widened, he hated snakes. he couldn’t even watch the 10th hunger games, the second he saw the snakes he ran to the bathroom and hurled.

“when i become president, you better keep yourself in line. it’d be horrible to see your family in the games no?” charles took a step back, “you can’t do that, i’m capitol.” coriolanus drew back,

“you won’t be for long.”

you couldn’t believe your eyes, of course he’d protect you but, threatening? he’d never do it right? the shutters of cameras had you reaching for corio, “can we leave my love?” coriolanus turned to you, “of course sweetheart.”

he’d stayed up for a long time. a smile came to his face when he remembered the sound of charles’s neck snapping. the door creaking open revealed a disheveled you, “corio? are you awake?” he sat up as you released a breath.

“what is it y/n?” you took a shy step forward, “i uhm, i can’t stop thinking about charles. he scared me, i didn’t know what to do corio. i-” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling as coriolanus swiftly got out of bed, helping you into his bed. “i- can i sleep here tonight? please?”

this was definitely not how he first expected to have you in his bed, but how could he say no to you? your hair in its braid, messy and lose, puffy eyes and tear stained face. he wished he’d first seen you cry underneath him but he’d take what he could get. what he didn’t expect was for him to like this, the scene of you crying, needing him. he was the one who could help you, console you, coddle you.

coriolanus nodded as he moved back to the bed, tucking himself and you in softy, caressing your hair and kissing your forehead. god he’d held out for so long, denied himself and his feelings but having you in his arms was all he could ever want, but the idea of being in you flooded his head.

would you cry like this? would you shout and scream? did you like it soft and sweet? he couldn’t be soft and sweet, he’d savour the moment but he loved the idea of unravelling you, he’d be the only one to see you like this, him being the only one to make it happen.

you curled into his chest, like a baby. your soft cries and whimpers went straight to his crotch and soon enough you were asleep.

his sweetheart, his delicate little wife.

corios hand slipped downwards and into your pants, he promised himself he just wanted to feel but god you made it difficult. he saved you tonight, didn’t he deserve a reward? didn’t matter if you detested he had you where he liked. so he slowly rolled over and placed you on the bed.

your eyes fluttered at the change of placement but he couldn’t care less. he was done waiting.

you squirmed underneath him in your sleep but his worries faded away.

[ozzgin]

Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] | [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

[blue-jisungs]

PLAYLIST

author's note. sorry for the slight delay!!! i hopeu all enjoy it tho<3 thank u so sooo mcuh @slytherinshua for the banner (again)<3333333333

summary. jihoon is curious about you, especially your music taste and this... somehow leads to your first kiss with him

word count. 1233

genre. music major!jihoon (and also undercover artist, woozi) x psychology major!yn

jihoon felt like a fool.

a complete, love struck fool.

he didn’t know what you did to him but �� how did wonwoo phrase it? he was down bad for you – he was whipped.

ever since bumping into you in the library, which was quite embarrassing by the way, he just couldn’t get his mind off you. luckily for him, he gained some courage to talk to you and exchange socials.

you were in a talking stage, getting to know each other. like, for example your name, sign, major – so on, so forth. he was completely smitten to find out that you’re a psychology student but then again, you seemed amazed when he told you he’s majoring in music.

despite all this knowledge he still yearned to know more. your music taste, favorite drink, the name of your first hamster that you had in childhood– despite how creepy it sounded, it was the effect you had on him.

naturally, you wanted to know more about him too.

hence you’re here now, in his studio.

“do you want something to drink? vodka? tequilla? i mean, other drinks are okay too. ice with water?” jihoon asked, opening his mini fridge and trying to ignore the feeling of blood rushing to his ears. he’s such an idiot. ice with water? really, jihoon?

“water is fine” you grinned, looking around the room.

you were curious about the studio, it’s where the magic happens after all. apparently he didn’t let people in… except his friends. even with them he made some exceptions – like soonyoung, who once snuck in while he was drunk and made a song about a tiger…? you remember this story, he told you it on one of your first meetings (dates?).

“it all looks so expensive” you sighed, scared to even touch anything. jihoon must have noticed it because he broke a smile.

“well… music equipment usually is quite pricey. but feel free to try something, i’ll guide you. guitar, keyboard, saxophone… even the mixing board” he hummed and handed you the glass of water.

“oh really? i always wanted to try the silly machine” you pointed at the sound mixer, recalling a video you saw on tiktok how the grey keys lit up upon touching.

“here you go, then” jihoon grinned and pulled your chair closer to it, causing you to giggle. then, he pulled another chair for him and sat down.

he turned it on and put you glass away, ebony irises looking at you with excitement.

“so do i just…?” you asked and shyly tapped one of the tiles, it making a sound and lighting up with a pink light.

jihoon watched you good around with it, creating a silly melody and being rather amused by the colors than the music itself. his heart was thumping against his chest, weirdly liking it. he was anxious that he’d feel somehow stressed and somehow angry upon seeing you touch his instruments. he always did when someone came over. but with you… why was he so carefree?

“i have no idea how you do it, that just sounded like cocomelon intro” a laugh escaped your lips and jihoon joined you. oh, he loved the sound of your laughter.

“let me play some music, wait” jihoon stood up and grabbed his phone from the pocket of his sweats.

you admired him, observing his silhouette. he really fitted perfectly into this space, you could see he’s feeling himself because he’s surrounded by things he loves.

and he let you in that safe space of his.

this caused your heart to skip, trying to convince yourself it’s nothing. that he takes every girl here sooner or later, lets her play his instruments–

“everytime you look at me like that i wonder if you’re having flashbacks of your psychology textbooks, you know? and then you’re like… ‘ah yeah, he fits that description perfectly’” he giggled and you scoffed, shaking your head.

“you know, sometimes i can’t help but consider all the… small signs… but i don’t diagnose you!” you joked but saw his eyes widen. oh.

“small signs?” he asked, a bit of panic in his voice. great, now you freaked him out.

“like… you’re a workaholic but that’s no surprise, right?” you tried to ease the situation and it seemed that it worked.

“yeah, yeah” he nodded, a small smile blooming on his lips.

once again you looked around the room, eyes taking in every detail.

“wait, actually… do you want to play some music? i’m curious what you listen to” he asked and handed you the aux with a boyish smile.

“don’t judge me though… i’m already feeling kinda stupid” you laughed and scrolled through your playlist, jihoon looking over your arm.

you decided to play one of your cozy mixes on shuffle and turned around to peek at him.

“you… um, you know woozi?” jihoon asked, a tiny of nervousness in his voice.

“oh, yeah! jun recommend him to me! he’s so good, honestly. i kinda wish he had more music because i feel like i know every song by heart right now” you giggled and saw his eyes widen “what? you don’t like him?”

“wha… i… actually…” jihoon stuttered, mind racing like a wild horse galloping through the fields. why did jun tell you? no… he knew the answer to that – jun knew jihoon has a crush on you. what an asshole.

but… what to do now? how didn’t you figure out that woozi is him? should he confess? or should he thank you? or… maybe he should deny that he doesn’t know him.

“you kinda sound like him now that i think about it” you hummed, scanning his face.

“are you playing some psychological games with me right now?” jihoon asked, cracking a smile and finally sitting down next to you.

“no, why would i?” a frown appeared on your features. jihoon took it as a sign that you’re really clueless. taking a deep sigh, he pointed at one of the diplomas (or what you thought they were).

“i’m… woozi”

your mouth fell agape as you scanned the paper on the wall, secured safely in a ruby frame.

“and i’ll admit, you have a nice taste in music” he added, observing you. why was he kind of… excited by your reaction? the fact that you liked his music was another thing, making his heart go crazy.

“are you serious?” you asked in disbelief and your eyes shifted to meet his ebony ones.

“i’m in your playlist. come at me, gir” jihoon laughed and opened his arms in a cocky manner.

“so… woah. that’s crazy. i have a question though” you grinned, cocking an eyebrow at him. woozi’s mischievous spark in the eye told you to be straightforward “about who is ‘ruby’ about?”

no words were exchanged but the look he gave you was like an electric spark between you two. maybe hence the next thing he did, powered by an impulse, was standing up.

“can i kiss you?” he asked and you nodded vigorously, shame flying out of the window.

if it wasn’t said, the kiss definitely translated it into words: ‘ruby’ was about you. everything was about you, including his feelings.

his plush lips felt heavenly against yours, soft music playing in the background as his warm hands cupped your cheeks.

who knew that revealing your playlist to him would lead to your first kiss.

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

[everyonewooeverywhere]

NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

summary: sometimes mingi can't help but feed into your jealous side. it's his favorite thing about you, after all.

pairing: toxic situationship/friendship!mingi x gn!reader

genre: angst | non-idol au

rating: 18+

word count: 1k

content warnings: toxic jealousy, alcohol consumption (no one really gets drunk tho), pet names (princess)

notes: for @desirehorizon 🤭

Why were you wearing that skirt? And those fishnets? Why couldn’t he take his eyes off you while you talked with a friend in his kitchen? Why couldn’t he just enjoy his night? 

The girl beside him was drunkenly chatting away in his ear. Something about how her Chemistry Concepts professor had been skipping out on lectures because his wife had been cheating on him, or something. Mingi didn’t care. He’d never seen her before, couldn’t even remember her name, but he kept his arm around her, lazily rubbing circles on her arm with his middle finger.

He was hoping that maybe he could get your attention by cuddling up close with some random girl, but it seemed that you were in your own little world anyway. He had one more idea, though.

Turning to the girl under his arm, “Baby?”

She looked up at him, “Hm?”

“Can you grab me another beer from the kitchen? They’re in that cooler.” He gestured toward the cooler that you just so happened to be standing in front of.

“Uh, okay.” Easy. 

She lifted herself off the couch, kissing him on the cheek before whispering a small “I’ll be back” and heading to the kitchen. Mingi felt a little bad sending her into the lion’s den like that, but something about the way he knew you’d react made his head spin.

“Um, excuse me…” She muttered, trying to get into the cooler that you were blocking with your legs.

You glanced down at her and raised an eyebrow, “Need something?” 

“Yeah, I needed a beer. From the cooler.”

You just blinked at her, not moving an inch. “Bea, right?”

“Hm? Yeah..? Can I…just grab a beer from the cooler?”

“Who invited you?”

“What?” She looked up at you with wide eyes. You just kept staring her down, not repeating the question. “I–um…Jongho and I have Statistics together. He asked if I wanted to come by this weekend. Said it was an open invite.”

“Right. So where is Jongho? Why aren’t you hanging out with him?” Her face turned bright red, “And Stats? That’s like a freshman class. Are you a freshman?”

“Yeah.” 

You laughed. Loud. And you looked down to see poor Bea on the verge of tears. You kicked the cooler open and grabbed a beer. You got real close to her and slid the can into her hand and leaned in as close as you could to her ear, “Do yourself a favor and play with boys in your own league? Mingi doesn’t give a shit about you, baby, so I suggest you run along before you really get hurt, okay?”

She whipped her head back and you saw the mortified look in her eyes. You could tell she felt embarrassed and like she never should’ve come to this party anyway, but that was the goal, wasn’t it?

You watched as she clutched the can in her and made a beeline for the door. Your friend next to you chuckled, “That was kinda brutal, don’t you think?” You shrugged and took a sip of your drink. 

Glancing over at Mingi, you saw that he was still just talking with everyone around him, “I’ll be back.” You muttered to your friend. 

He just chuckled, “Sure you will.”

You walked around the back of the couch, resting your hands on Mingi’s shoulders. He tilted his head back against your stomach and looked up at you. “What was that all about?” He gestured to the door.

“I don’t know. Told her that you’re probably too old for her, and she bolted.” 

He hummed, letting you massage his shoulders and dig into his sore spots with your thumbs, “Still didn’t get my beer, though.”

“You’ll live.” Your snarkiness made him chuckle.

He shivered as you started to let your hands travel, and your nails scraped his scalp. He kept talking with his friends though. And maybe you were more of an attention whore than you realized because every second that ticked by made you more and more irritable.

You had to step it up. Not that you were opposed, though. Because nothing measured up to the look he gave you when you slid up next to him. Keeping your hands all over him.

And it started fine. Nothing but some tipsy touches on his neck and chest. He loved the feeling of you absent-mindedly playing with him. And it was clear that the girl from earlier had brought out the jealous beast in you.

But when you started fidgeting with the waistband of his jeans, playfully circling the silver button with your pointer finger. And fuck when you start kissing his jaw and neck. He’s stopped talking completely. 

Just focused on the way your hands unzip his jeans and your lips leave the signature of your burgundy lipstick all over your neck. His mind goes blank. Blissfully unaware of the few people still residing in the living room. 

You, on the other hand, are hyper aware of their presence. And their discomfort. And you notice that when you make the move of sliding a finger over the waistband of his boxers, the room starts to clear out. 

“Oh no, we killed the party,” you whisper with your lips pressed to his ear.

Mingi finally looks up and sees that what’s left of the party, only a handful of his friends, have migrated away from them and to the kitchen, “Fuck them, princess.” And he pulls you into his lap. 

“Minnie…” you wrap your arms around his neck, “Fuck me. Please.” And you roll your hips, brushing over his nearly exposed crotch. 

His hands cupped your ass, fingers trailing the small bit of your panties that poked out from your little skirt. “God, you’re insatiable.” He groaned.

You ran your thumb across his bottom lip, “I’m perfectly satiable, Minnie. You just have to give me what I want.”

“And what do you want, Princess?” He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, trying to maintain his composure. 

“You.”

general taglist: @swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez @funnyvxlentine

ateez taglist: @certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms

@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity

@breadpuddingboys @woolysium @im-ovulation @pommelex

@dancingwithdeities @maidens-world @jycas @kirbrary @aftertherain-atr

@staytinyinmybpack @m4n4-s4m4 @jjcanwrite @yvnhoos @uninterested-ghost

@yizhou-time @shinyj3lly @kyeos4ng

[scarletssienna]

Say, “Don’t go”

Summary - It’s been three years since you and Wanda saw each other last - Three long years. You were as good as dead to her. Figuratively, and unfortunately, literally. 6k word count

Warnings - Hurt-Comfort, angst, mommy wanda, sub!reader, grinding, car sex, fingering, hair-pulling, oral, biting, fighting, scars, AU

AN - Hey guys! Sorry, it’s been a second since I’ve posted. I cannot write anything happy apparently? It’s all just been angst. I have many ideas for some future one-shots and possible series tho! (Not all angst dw)

18+, minors + men dni

Working for the FBI was no easy feat. It often led to undercover work in many different forms. Typically you’d expect to be undercover a couple hours at most. So it was unexpected when you got a case requiring a longer period of undercover work. 3 months at most and you’d be out. This case was different from the rest. You’d been tracking a mob boss for years, every time you’d think you’d get close he’d disappear. Every time he’d come back worse than before. The goal was to gain some trust in the community and work your way up, that way you could finally track him down with confirmation. It wasn’t ideal. It was highly dangerous but you’d been training for this your entire career. When you broke the news to Wanda she was less than displeased. Since the two of you had gotten together in college you’d been nearly inseparable. Your names always followed one another’s and you were practically glued to the hip. 

Sure, you’d trained for undercover work like this, but the risk was great. There was a good chance of having to participate in illegal activities or getting hurt. Because of that, Wanda was very unhappy with you and the decision to go. The idea of being apart from you for a week, nonetheless 3 months sounded awful. You couldn’t exactly turn down this offer though. You’d waited to catch this guy for years and now it was finally within your grasp. You were too far in. The day of you leaving came quicker than anyone could have prepared for and it left you with a sinking feeling in your gut and Wanda distraught.

“I have to go, Wands.” You pleaded, trying anything you could to get her to understand. She looked away from you, wiping the tears from her face.

“No, you don’t. You could stay. We can figure it out.” She sniffled and held back a whine. “Together.” She sounded like a child begging for a toy in a store, although this was much more real. You stepped back towards her again. She stepped away but instead backed herself against a wall. 

“Wands, look at me.” You begged softly as your hands reached up, cupping her face in your hands. When she looked into your eyes, you nearly broke right then and there. The pure sadness she held was unbearable. Her green eyes were glossy - her mascara ran just below her bottom lashes. The sinking pit in your stomach grew as you opened your mouth to speak. No words came out, causing her to scowl slightly. Instead, you leaned in, kissing her as passionately as you could. She kissed back, her hands grabbing at your face, pulling you in as close as she could. When the tears began again, you had to pull back, your head falling on her shoulder. It did a poor job of muffling the sobs that left your mouth. 

“Please.” She begged. “Stay.” Her hands wrapped around you tightly, holding you against her, afraid to let go. Her fingers tangled in your shirt, creasing the fabric in her grip.

“I love you so much.” You said as you pulled back a tiny bit, just enough for your eyes to meet again. It was what confirmed it for Wanda. You were leaving. There was no more pleading and begging she could do. You had made up your mind. Her hands detached from your shirt, and she shook her head. Her arms went to her sides as her head rested behind her on the wall. “I love you, Wanda.” You repeated the words the two of you had shared hundreds of times. But this time was different: she didn’t repeat the words back. Her eyes just stared back at you, glossy, broken. Your hand dropped to your stomach, holding it slightly as the sickening feeling took over. It hit you that she wouldn’t be saying it back this time. You pushed past the billowing feeling that took over your stomach and chest. You leaned forward to kiss her one last time, but she didn’t kiss back. So, you moved and kissed her cheek tenderly before stepping away. She held her breath as a single tear rolled down her face. She held eye contact with you until you walked away, finally breaking it. You felt her gaze on you; only when you rounded the corner did it cease. She sank to her knees, her hands covering her face as she muffled her sobs. You carried on, leaving the house despite everything inside you urging you to stay. 

After three weeks of you being gone a news story broke out of an FBI agent found dead while undercover. The story that was released was gruesome. Wanda fell distraught. She was distraught you had left in the first place, but at least she had known you would be coming home. Now, with this no longer being true she was sent into more of a fragile state than ever. You had no idea that was going to happen. You had accounted for a few months of being away - at most. So it was a surprise to you too when you got a call one early morning saying there was a change of plans in your mission. It had to seem real. And to everyone else, it was real. Wanda’s grief of the love of her life was real. The woman hardly slept, yet she barely left bed. Bathing was a chore and food was an even worse one. Nightmares were common. These grew exponentially after everyone's and her own better judgment, she read your case file. She saw your name, the bloody image of ‘your’ body, the details and descriptors of how you had died, all of it, stamped a closed case. You were now deceased.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

It’s been three years since you and Wanda saw each other - three long years. You were as good as dead to her. Figuratively, and unfortunately, literally. 

An old file was placed on Wanda’s desk one morning as she worked. 

“What’s this?” Wanda asked as confusion wrinkled across her face. She looked up, pushing her glasses to the top of her head, making eye contact with Natasha. 

“Something I thought you might be interested in.” Natasha started as she reached down and opened the file. Wanda recognized the case immediately, her bottom lip quickly tugged into her mouth as she bit down. Natasha’s fingers slid across the pages in search of a word. She paused, her fingertips halting just beneath it - Deceased. She pointed out the word, causing Wanda to flip her glasses back down, looking at the papers, curious. She just nodded and shrugged, not recognizing where it was from. 

“Okay? What about it?” Wanda pushed, trying not to get upset at the lack of details about what she was supposed to be looking at. Natasha reached over, setting another file on top opening it, flipping through, and then pointing out several points throughout the pages. 

“They’re not dead,” Natasha said while shaking her head. She sighed and knocked on the desk once as a sign she was leaving before walking out of the room. Wanda watched her exit before looking back into the folders in front of her, her face still riddled with confusion. Her jaw dropped slack as she realized Natasha was right. You're not dead.

Wanda looked through the second file on her desk quizzically. You had been dead. What she read proved otherwise. She let out a silent gasp as she read further. 

There was a file opened about a woman who was close to the man you had gone after. It was you. Though the people above in the FBI knew that. They just had to keep it under wraps for your safety. The case had been made available recently as the mob boss was dead. The woman in the file had shot him and escaped. The more Wanda read about the woman, the more she realized it was you. Techniques you had used in the past for interrogation, fighting techniques, and just genuine physical mannerisms. The woman had shown up just a month after you had been declared deceased. The thing that finally confirmed it to be you for Wanda stopped her in her tracks. There were blurry security images from the shooting. You had always managed to stay away from cameras and any photos taken staying in hiding made your undercover position easier. Wanda would always recognize you. You had to be confident you could return when this was revealed. 

She immediately reached for her phone, dialing your number and letting it ring twice before she realized. The number had been down for years and you wouldn’t just pick up like that. She set her phone down and pushed her chair back. While gnawing on her bottom lip she was in a shocked state of not knowing what to do. She left the office quickly, going home. The second she pulled into the driveway she broke down into tears. All the feelings from years ago came back. It felt unreal, untrue. She couldn’t believe it, and not in the way of denial. But protecting herself. She couldn’t go through the grief again. She dragged herself inside and simply dropped her stuff by the door. She had moved on from you. It was hard, but she had done it. 

All this brought up those emotions, she wasn’t sure how to cope. She brought herself to the bedroom and stripped off her clothes, dropping them sporadically around the room before going to the shower. She paused in front of the mirror, trying to contain her tears. She dried her face with the hand towel and sniffled before turning on the water to the shower. She stood outside the shower, waiting for it to heat up. As she stood the tears began again. When the water was to her liking she entered and stood under the water, trying to wash away all the feelings. They didn’t wash away as she had hoped. Slowly, she sunk to the ground, holding her legs just as she had done when you left. The feeling of sadness and heartbreak was all too familiar. 

The next week things were off. No one had brought you up. Not that they usually did. But Wanda had hoped someone would. Maybe if someone brought it up it would give her an excuse to share what she had found - Without fear of sounding crazy. The first year after you’d left, Wanda was in such a deep state of grief. She’d often bring up new cases, victims, or missing people, saying it may be you. She had seen the evidence of your death, but after the closed casket funeral and no true closure in the situation, it drove her wild. She settled for focusing on her work this week, pushing people away. She had to believe you were alive. The counter thought was too much. 

When you returned to Quantico you wanted nothing more than to see Wanda. Unfortunately, there was paperwork on paperwork that needed to be approved before doing so. On top of that, you also had to go through a medical check and many physical exams. While the FBI had known what you were doing, they couldn’t just pull you away for the maintenance of your health. It was debatably the longest week of your life. You spend much of it waiting in the temporary apartment they had set up for you. It was boring, mundane, and painfully long as all you could think about was seeing Wanda. When you got the go-ahead Friday night you were frantic. At a loss of what to wear, who to call, and where to even find Wanda you were lost. Decidedly, you called the only number you could seem to remember at the time, Natashas. She answered on the third ring your call from a club. She hasn't answered nearly as fast as you would have liked but supposed it was fine, this time. 

“Where is Wanda?” You wasted no time on formalities, impatiently waiting for a response. You paced back and forth between the kitchen and living room as you gnawed your bottom lip into your mouth. Natasha didn't know who was calling but answered anyway. She listened as she stepped outside. 

“Who is this? You must know that this is terrible timing. Whatever this is better be important.” She insisted as she leaned against the cold brick wall, not waiting long before you replied again. 

“Natasha.” You answered simply. “Where is Wanda?” You repeated your question with a firm tone. Suddenly, it hit Natasha on who you were. A gasp left her mouth as she stood up straight.

“No way!” She practically yelled. Of course, she knew you were alive. She had known the whole time. But it had been a long time since the two of you had spoken real words. Now here you were, asking for Wanda. Before you could yell again into the phone, she remembered your question. “She’s probably still at work. She’s been working like crazy this last week.” You didn’t even bother saying anything more before hanging up the phone. 

You pulled up the maps app on your phone and typed in Quantico. When you saw it was just a little over a mile you decided to run. You were not about to just wait around for an Uber that was for sure. Was running the best decision as it was 10:30 pm and you were last in the area several years ago? Maybe not. But you were in a wired state and would do it anyway. When you arrived you hurried to the elevator. You grumbled as you went to hit the button and realized you needed your key card. Shuffling through your pockets in a frantic state you grabbed it and swiped it, pressing the floor you needed to go. Thoughts began to flood your mind as you imagined Wanda's reaction. What if she was mad at you? What if she never wanted to see you again? You didn't have much time to worry though as the elevator dinged and opened. As the doors opened they slowly revealed the red hair you've been dying to see. An exhausted Wanda was standing outside the elevator waiting to enter. You took a second to register her in front of you, still as a statue. She hardly even looked your way, not recognizing you through the exhaustion. She shuffled into the elevator and rested her head against the wall, reaching to push the first-floor button when you cut her off. 

“Wanda,” you said, causing her head to snap towards you. Her face was riddled with confusion before her jaw dropped as she realized who was standing before her. Without a second thought, she flung herself into your arms. You held her tightly against you as your arms wrapped around her closely. “God, Wanda.” You murmured under your breath as you pressed your face into her hair, inhaling slightly. You could have melted at her touch, her scent, her everything. It was exhilarating. Her face nuzzled into your neck as if it was a perfect puzzle piece. Her soft sobs of joy are swallowed and silenced by your closeness. The doors to the elevator closed but the machine stayed in place as it hadn't been directed anywhere.

“Is it you?” She asked after several moments, pulling her face back. When her green, teary eyes met yours you smiled bigger than you had in forever. 

“It's me, Wands,” you said as you looked up into her eyes, causing her to grin. You reached both hands up, cupping her face as you wiped away her tears with your thumbs. Softly, you pressed a kiss to her nose. Her nose wrinkled at the kiss and she giggled before leaning forward and kissing you, passionately. The kiss only lasted a few moments before she was tangled around you again closely. 

“How? What?” Suddenly she began to stutter out. “Where?” The number of questions she had was too many and they were too much right now. While biting down on your bottom lip you shook your head. “Soon, so very soon.” You whispered as you placed a kiss on her temple. “I’ll tell you all about it soon.” When she began to protest your answer you kissed her softly, causing her to sigh and give in, just happy you were here. 

“Where have you been staying?” She asked before looking at the elevator as it began to move down. Slowly, she detached herself from you causing you to release her from your arms. Instead, she settled on holding your arm tightly, afraid to let go. 

“They set me up with a temporary apartment not too far from here.” You spoke in a quiet voice as the elevator doors opened. The two of you exited, carefully walking past the person entering. 

“Let me take you home.” Wanda offered. She wanted to see you for as long as she physically could but knew it was late and unrealistic to expect you to stay out doing who knows what at the spur of the moment. She looked at you as she stepped closer once again, not having let go of your arm. Suddenly, she began to stutter. “By home, I mean your apartment, not my, our, home I mean. Unless you want to go there? I mean I wouldn't mind at all! But also I would understand if you wanted to go back to,” You cut her rambling off with a soft kiss. 

“I would love to go back to our home,” You started, causing her eyes to light up. “But not tonight.” You finished and the glimmer in her eyes faded as she quickly looked away. Feeling the sudden need to clarify, you spoke quickly. “There's still some things that need to be settled and I've been running around too much, I don’t want to disturb you.”

She agreed and you went towards her car, both of you getting in when Wanda finally pried her body away from yours. It was quickly returned when you both had gotten in, her hand reaching for your leg as she drove. Your hand rested on hers. Despite having tons to talk about you drove in silence: quiet directions were the only words shared as the radio played softly in the background as you watched out the window. She drove slowly down the road, a few under the speed limit as she wanted to soak up every moment she could with you. Her hand slowly rose your thigh as she drove, her fingertips playing softly with the inner hem of your pants. There was a sudden moment of desperation that came among the two of you. Wanda pulled into the nearest empty parking lot and parked the car. The second the car was put into park the two of you practically launched yourselves at each other, kissing one another passionately. Your hands reached for her waist as hers tangled in your hair. 

Her tongue slipped across your bottom lip, eagerly seeking entrance. You obliged without a second thought, a moan immediately muffed into the kiss. Your hand snaked under her shirt, groping and grabbing at her chest through her bra. She groaned into your mouth, tugging your hair as she pulled you closer. 

“Fuck.” You mumbled as you pulled back from the kiss, locking eyes with her. You hummed and tugged at her shirt. “Get over here.” You murmured as you reached down to unbuckle your seatbelt. You moved the seat back and laid it down before turning your back to the windshield and shifting towards the front of the car. There was some awkward shifting and moving as Wanda moved into the passenger's seat, settling and leaning back in the seat. She reached forward and grabbed your shirt, pulling you on top of her. 

Your lips met instantly again and your hips found a slow pace of grinding onto her lap. Her hands reached down to your thighs, gripping them tightly as she slid her fingertips inward, dipping towards the insides of your thighs. With a groan, you broke the kiss and began kissing at her neck. Your hip movements came to a cease as you moved off her lap, now between her legs. You grumbled as the floor wasn’t as forgiving as you’d expected the fabric-covered metal to be. That wasn’t about to stop you though as you reached towards her pants. She helped with the buttons and zipper, before lifting her hips, allowing you to tug down her pants and panties with one quick motion. You moaned at the sight in front of you. Her delectable cunt waiting in front of you. She reached down, tangling a hand in your hair as she began to push your head to where she needed it most. You would never deprive her of what she wanted. Especially when your mouth practically watered for her. 

“Come on Detka. Don’t be shy, Mommy remembers how much you love eating her pussy.” She spoke sweetly, a smile on her face as she looked down at you. Your face turned to a deep blush as she spoke. In an attempt to avoid embarrassment, you settled your head between her thighs happily. Your tongue made contact with her slowly. Your tongue moved up her clit in a fashion that made her squirm. Her grip on your hair tightened as her hips rose against your face. You moaned against her as your hands gripped her thighs. The way your tongue swirled and ground against her caused her to moan out above you. “Fuck Detka.” She pulled at your hair and she let out a loud moan. “Oh, I’ve missed your tongue.” She said as her eyes screwed shut and threw her head back. You looked up from your position, smiling at the sight above you. One of your hands slid between her legs and quickly slipped inside of her. Your tongue directed all of your attention to her clit as your fingers curled and pumped inside of her. With the addition of your fingers, she rose quickly to an orgasm. Her hands tugged at your hair as her hips lifted and she let out a loud moan as she reached her peak. When she settled you took a moment to remove your fingers and lap up what you could before looking up at her with a cheeky grin.

“Fuck you’re hot.” You said as you grinned, biting the inside of your cheek before pulling your fingers to your mouth, and licking them clean. She watched you, awestruck and tired as she caught her breath. Her grip loosened in your hair and her hands reached down to your face with a new tenderness. She lifted your chin to look at you with a smile. You smiled back up at her before biting your bottom lip. You wiped your face with your shirt in a playful manner before shifting a little. She giggled tiredly and pressed her fingertip to the tip of your nose with a smile. You dried your fingers on your pants before pulling Wanda's pants and panties up carefully. She slowly shifted her body, tiredly allowing you to help her. When her pants were back in place you crawled onto her lap, straddling her. You began to pepper soft kisses across her jaw and neck. 

“I love you, Wands.” You whispered as you settled back in her lap, your head resting below her chin as her arms wrapped around you keeping you close.

“I love you too, Detka.” She said with a tired smile on her face. The slow patterns Wanda traced on your back felt hypnotizing as you never wanted to leave this moment. You had to though, so after a little while of sitting together you lifted your head. She protested with a grumble and tangled her hand in your hair, urging you to lay your head back down. Her eyes didn't open from her relaxed state. 

“Wanda let me drive us home.” You said as you placed a kiss on her lips. She nodded and slowly let go of you. You reached down and adjusted the seat so it was in a safer upright position before scooting back on her lap a little and buckling her seatbelt for her. You then smiled as her tired eyes looked into yours. “Keep looking at me like that I’m gonna have to eat you out again.” you teased, causing her to grin and giggle. You climbed into the driver's seat and set the car to defog, letting it rest momentarily as you traced patterns on Wanda's leg. When the car was defogged enough you drove the two of you home. 

Pulling into the driveway you parked the car in the garage before getting out. You hurried to Wanda's side before she could even open the door. You opened the door for her before reaching down and unclicking her seatbelt.

“Can I carry you?” you asked, causing her to grin a little out of surprise. She raised her eyebrows at you as she began to question. 

“Is that a question of your physical capabilities or are you asking for permission?” She teased as she looked up at you tiredly. “Because you have my permission, but Detka I might be too heavy,” she started but you cut her off, carefully lifting her out of the seat, watching to make sure she didn’t bump her head. She gasped surprised as she quickly hid her face in your neck, flustered. You carried her inside before setting her on the steps. Gently, you began taking off her shoes and jacket for her, hanging them up on the hook before returning and picking her up bridal style. She laughed when you picked her up again but let it happen as she wrapped her arms around your neck tightly and kissed your jaw. You brought her to the bedroom and laid her down. She made quick work of snuggling up with the pillows in the bed. 

“Don’t get too comfy Wands.” You teased as you went to the closet to find some pajamas. You bit your lip, pausing as you noticed your side of the closet had stayed nearly the same as when you had left. Slowly, you began looking through your shirts. Your fingers danced slowly over the fabric, brushing your fingertips along the patterns of one of your favorite shirts. You carefully slipped the shirt off the hanger. You glanced at the closet door, knowing Wanda’s eyes were on you before stripping your shirt off. As you reached to unclip your bra you heard her call out. 

“Come here.” Wanda’s voice was husky and full of sleep. You abided anyway and picked your shirt and a shirt for her before walking towards her. You set the shirts on her bed, blushing a light shade of pink as you stood next to her. She propped herself up a little more and reached towards you, spinning you to face away from her. Her hands slid up your back slowly before stopping at your bra. She took only a moment, unclipping your bra. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as she unclipped your bra. Her hands then slid down your back, her fingertips tracing across some scars she had never seen before. You flinched at the touch at first before relaxing into it. While biting your bottom lip you let the bra fall to the ground before turning back around to face her. She smiled at your body, only looking at you with love and adoration as she took in the sight. Her eyes on you made you blush a deeper red. When she noticed you getting more flustered she directed her attention lower. Her hands slid from your sides to the loops of your pants. Moving you closer with a soft tug she undid the button before looking into your eyes as she did the zipper. You shuffled out of the pants before reaching for her. Carefully you repeated her motions. Your fingers danced around the button to her pants as you undid them, carefully helping her slide out of them. While she took off her shirt you took a moment to fold the clothes you two had discarded. You smiled as you looked back towards her again, reaching your arms around her. Your hands slid behind her back and unclasped her bra. She let the garment fall slowly as it was now your turn to admire the sight in front of you. You sat on the edge of the bed next to her, letting a small smile show as you handed her one of your t-shirts. You pulled yours on as she put hers on. As sexual as the actions may have seemed to an outside perspective they were purely done out of innocence and genuine care. 

“Can I sleep next to you?” You spoke for the first time in several minutes. A downward smile tugged on Wanda’s lips as she grabbed at your shirt. 

“Please do.” She said as she nodded, tapping the side next to her, your side of the bed. You smiled at her response and bit your lip as you pulled the covers back. You crawled over top of her, causing her to giggle as you plopped down next to her. You took a moment to dramatically fluff up your pillow before lying down. She waited, teasingly impatient. The second your head hit the pillow Wanda’s head was right there next to you hardly inches away. Her arms wrapped around you closely and one leg pushed between yours, essentially tangling your bodies together. The closeness felt wonderful. You brushed your nose against hers with a smile on your face. She smiled and closed her eyes, feeling content and at peace for the first time in a long time. Gently you pressed a kiss to her lips. You didn’t close your eyes just yet. You watched her instead. Watching how her eyes fluttered tiredly, her breath slowly making her chest rise and fall, her breathing getting slow as she drifted asleep. When you were sure she was asleep you finally gave in to the tiredness yourself, letting your eyes close and sleep take over you. 

The next morning when you woke up Wanda was stretched out next to you but still clinging onto your shirt with one of her hands. You smiled at the sight, biting back a big grin as you watched her. Before, you were rarely awake before Wanda. She liked to get up early to get a head start on her day. Now, that had been you for the past few years. You scooted towards her, wrapping your body around her as you began to kiss her cheek and neck playfully. She stirred in her sleep and luckily remembered about the night prior before freaking out. She rolled on top of you and grinned, her eyes not yet open as she snuggled into your chest. 

“Shh, I’m sleeping.” She whispered as she wrapped her body around you. You smiled and chuckled at her. You wrapped one arm around her back, sliding it under her shirt as you rubbed up and down the bare skin. Your other hand went to her hair, tangling it softly as you massaged her scalp. She hummed and leaned into your touch, slowly falling back into sleep. While kissing the top of her head you whispered. 

“I’ll lay here a little while then I have some stuff to do okay Wands?” You wanted to work out and return some phone calls for work to get it out of the way. She just nodded and hugged you closer. You let her stay in that position for longer than you’d planned before slowly moving her next to you again and climbing out of bed. You kissed her head before going downstairs. You paused at the end of the stairs, taking a deep breath as you knew you were about to take on walking through your old house. Just as you were about to walk through the house suddenly you couldn’t do it. You put on your shoes before going for a run outside. You ran all around smelling the fresh air. It was like no time had passed. You ran a quick run before returning home to get a weight lift in. Before, you seldom did cardio and weights on the same day. But you had a new routine that made you the most fit you’d ever been. The home gym was in a room connected to the garage. You went there and did a routine before heading up to the bedroom to shower. Wanda was sitting on the bed, pillows propped up behind her as she scrolled on her phone. 

“Wow,” Wanda muttered under her breath as she saw you walk into the room, your sweaty state extremely obvious. You laughed at her reaction and dried your face off the sweat with the small towel that had been draped across your shoulder. 

“Sorry, I know I’m gross. I’m about to take a shower. Maybe you want to join me?” You asked, thinking her reaction was for you being gross but you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity of showering with her. 

“No!” She said quickly, causing you to crinkle your nose at her. She realized what she said. “I mean yes! I want to shower with you! Not no! Not yet.” She said as she got out of bed and walked towards you. Your eyebrow turned upward as she walked towards you.

“Not yet?” You questioned as your hands reached out to her waist and then slid down to her hips, holding her softly.

“Not yet.” She whispered, repeating you with a small grin on her face. She leaned down and kissed your neck softly. Your hands squeezed at her hips as you pulled her body up against yours. She bit at your neck testingly causing you to yelp and flinch in surprise. She pulled her face back to look you in the eyes. “Too much?” She asked, her hands snaking across your body. Quickly, you shook your head.

“More.” You let out in only a whisper. Her grin returned and she stepped back, grabbing you by the shirt and dragging you to the bed.

[supernova41st]

Hear me out... TF2 mercs with an easily flustered s/o, like so easily flustered even purring out petnames makes reader bright red and stammering like a school girl with a crush

Blush Crush! ᥫ᭡⋆࣪

Tf2 x Flustered!Reader

A/n: I know I made a poll and everything but this req was so cute I just had to make it!! I tried not to do the wattpad “her face was blushing bright red” stuff so I just said rosy a whole bunch. Enjoy!!

Warnings: None

Medic

❥ Definitely takes him some time to catch onto what’s happening.

❥ You had admired him from a distance since he seemed more attached to his projects than some lovey dovey crushes, but that didn’t stop you from yearning!

❥ Once it was your turn to take the Uber surgery your pulse had been rushing since you sat in that waiting room

“Let’s see.. your blood pressure is pretty good”

“Oh stopp! 🤭”

“..alright then”

❥ He did notice how rosy your skin gets when you’re in the same room, and whenever anyone mentioned his name.

❥ If he Ubers you you’re always on straight PANIC MODE.

‘gasp Oh my god. okay okay, is my stance good? Forget that-do I look good?? I don’t wanna die in front of him but I also don’t want to look stupid!! His eyes are practically glued to me right now! Oh, he’s dead.’

❥ Once he did catch up to what was happening he felt embarrassed himself for not noticing sooner since it seemed so obvious.

❥ Has no idea what to make of it, this guy spends his days experimenting on beheaded spies what do you want him to do?

❥ All of a sudden he was the one blushing and getting all flustered.

❥ He started avoiding eye contact while healing you, kicking the dirt all shyly 😭

❥ He’d deliver love notes via Archimedes, you can barely read it tho cuz he has that doctor hand writing <//3

Scout

❥ oh em gee 😒

❥ Don’t even get him started, he loves making you blush and giggle

❥ Scout is quite bold so as soon as he saw your face turn slightly rosy he became so flirty

❥ He’d do the classic lean against the wall type flirting before matches just to feed his ego before entering battle

“Yeah I’ve been hittin’ the gym recently, gotta get these babies ready for the summer”

“Oh wow! You’re so cool, Jeremy..”

❥ The rest of the team feels like a disappointed dad. “You could’ve done better” type shit

❥ Scout would steal your kills to look like he was “saving” you, you’re too flustered to notice

“Whew, you okay (Y/N)?”

“Oh my god, thank you Jeremy…”

❥ First date was at an arcade so that he could impress you with winning some claw machine prizes *he ended up losing 5x and you got him something instead

❥ Neither of you can get enough of each other, especially after dating. You two are always linking pinkies while the team goes over a plan of some sorts

❥ Y’all are that one hallway couple in high school.

“Alright team, we read- euah.. 😟”

“Sorry Engineer, just giving sum goodluck kisses”

“Eugh creepy, could you get neutered you dog?”

Engineer

❥ Engie does catch on to you being so flustered around him but he sorta doubts himself because he’s unsure if it’ll be a distraction from his work life.

❥ After a few weeks he thought “Hey, why the hell not?”, with how hard you were crushing on him, he was sure that soon enough you’d guys be together

❥ He is quite old fashioned, he’s the type to show up to your door step with flowers and would ask to go out for milkshakes

❥ On your first date he got you a bouquet of flowers he sculpted from metal

“Aww you got me flowers? How sweet..”

“Sure did sugar, my love for you oughta wilt away once it does.”

“….”

“..you good?”

You died.

❥ At least you were able to give him his sunflowers. His favorite kind!!

❥ He’s happy he was able to build up the guts to put himself out there again, he adores you, thinks you’re cute for the most part but also charming in a way.

“So do the sentries build themselves or?”

“Nope, I just gotta be quick with buildin’ then between fights, keeps me sharp”

“You’re so amazing Engie! I could listen to you talk all day ༯”

❥ You’re lucky he finds your swooning cute, otherwise he’d probably build some sentries to make sure you weren’t watching him sleep at night.

[wish-i-were-heather]

A FOOL FOR YOU PT 4⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 2642 words, no use of y/n (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)

STORY: well, y'know. you can't ignore a 911 text from a hawthorne

WARNINGS: none really, reader does struggle to swim tho and freaks out a little

TAGS: @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl @zuzanna-jadw1ga @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @jimcarreyfann42 @ravishinglyliving @maybxlle - lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

A/N: EEK I LOVED WRITING THIS. i didn't describe the reader's swimsuit because i don't know what everyone is comfortable with so i let you kinda imagine it however u want! i'm not sure how many more parts i can get out of this idea, there'll definitely be at least one more lmk what u think tho

He said please. 

Grayson didn’t lack manners. It’s not that he didn’t know how to say please and thank you. But he also wasn’t the kind of person to throw around a plea lightly. Grayson Hawthorne was, well, a Hawthorne. The name itself was a demand, not requiring a please. But he’d felt the need to say please to you. 

Maybe you were overthinking it. 

Or maybe you were still in denial, like Avery said you were. 

The texts came in at eight at night, too, which only raised more questions in your mind. If he wanted to talk to you, why hadn’t he just found you? Or simply texted you to meet somewhere? You didn’t understand why he’d felt the need to use the 911; you would’ve come if he’d just told you to go to the pool. 

Hawthornes did tend to have a flare for dramatics, you supposed. 

You had no idea why Grayson wanted you to meet him at the pool. He was a swimmer, sure, but that was very much his personal time. Grayson didn’t often appreciate people watching or joining him in the pool. But, you figured there was a chance he expected you to.

So you found yourself at her door again. Despite the faint conversation you could hear from inside, you knocked. 

Avery took longer than last time to open the door. “What’s up?” She asked. 

“Hey. Uh, do you have a swimsuit I could borrow?”

She frowned slightly, confused. “I mean I do, yeah, but why-”

You didn’t even have to say anything. You just showed her your phone screen with the text messages. Her eyes widened as she read them and she immediately opened the door wider for you. “Get the hell in here.”

Avery was already digging through the grand dresser. As you entered the room behind her, you noticed Jameson sitting on the floor in front of a deck of cards, giving you a curious look. “What-”

“Not now, Jamie,” Avery quickly answered. “Girl problem.”

That shut him up. 

“Don’t mind him,” she told you, turning back around with a few items in hand. “We were just playing solitaire.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Together? Isn’t that a one player game?”

“His idea, not mine. Managed to turn it into a competition too, somehow,” Avery shrugged. Jameson gasped dramatically but she continued before he could speak, bringing your attention back to why you asked for help. “So, I’ve actually never worn this one before, you could keep it if you want. Or-”

“That one’s fine,” you interrupted, taking it from her. “Can I change in your bathroom?” “Oh, uh, yeah, sure I guess,” Avery answered, clearly confused as to why you were so quick to answer. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get there as soon as I can. Thanks.”

You didn’t change completely, just putting it on and putting your clothes back on over it. You didn’t plan on getting into the water, but it was worth being prepared.

As you were stepping out of the room and thanking Avery, Jameson called, “Say hi to Gray for me.”

Your head snapped back. “What?”

“Come on,” he smirked. “He’s practically the only person who uses the pool, especially at this time. So tell him I said hi.”

Shaking your head, you just ignored him. Jameson was the type of person who could read people well, so odds are he probably already knew he was right. But you didn’t want to give even more of a reaction to him than you already had. 

Avery grabbed your arm though, before you left. “Hey, hey, good luck.”

You thanked her and left, just hoping Jameson wouldn’t try to watch from the window. 

~~

The cool night air hit you sharply as you stepped outside. It hadn’t been too chilly during the day, but you now found yourself wishing you were in more than just shorts and a thin hoodie.

Shivering, you made your way over to the pool. Your mind was racing the whole way there, but there wasn’t really anything else for you to be wondering. Grayson had asked for you to come to the pool, presumably either to swim with him or just because he was most comfortable there. Either way, it was pretty clear that he wanted to discuss what happened when he was drunk. But you still didn’t understand why he sent the 911. 

Good thing you were on your way to finding out. 

The pool deck was empty, save for a few lounge chairs. The fancy cushioned kind, the ones you would only find at a hotel. And the Hawthorne mansion, of course. 

On one of the chairs were two neatly folded towels- two. So he did expect you to get in the water with him? Where was he anyway? If he’d already brought out towels, why wasn’t he-

Splash.

You’d been too caught up in your thoughts and the sound of your heart racing in your chest to realize that Grayson was, in fact, already in the pool. Swimming laps because he was Grayson Hawthorne, so of course he was swimming laps when the sun had already set and the only light in the sky was that of the stars. 

Swimming had never really been your thing, so you didn’t know the exact stroke, but you would’ve been a liar if you said you weren't somewhat mesmerized. The way his arms went up and out, the way his fingers glided along the surface before entering the water once again. His legs kicked together, the movement fast and almost indiscernible under the blue of surrounding him. 

Grayson came up for air so quickly you couldn’t even make out his face, but your eyes caught on the way his hair flicked up with his head. It was certainly a skill, and he managed it so gracefully. You struggled to look away.

Thankfully, you were pulled out of your stare when he suddenly reached the wall nearest to you. Grayson’s hands touched the edge of the pool in perfect sync. You could see the red in his face, the tire he was giving himself from swimming. You wondered how long he’d been there before you found him.

Grayson met your eyes with a tired smile as he caught his breath. “You came.”

“You said 911,” you explained, sitting on the edge of the chair where he’d set the towels. “I figured it was pretty important.” 

“Yes, I did.” He nodded. “We do only get one of those a year, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to any of my brothers.”

“Got it.”

He was avoiding the elephant in the room. 

“Would you like to join me?”

You stared at him. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”

Was he really just going to ignore the fact that he’d sent you such an urgent message? A 911 could’ve meant he was dying, for all you knew when you’d first received it. And what, it was because he wanted to go for a swim with you? There was more he wasn’t saying and you just wanted to yell at him to spit it out. 

Instead, you responded calmly. 

“Join you in the pool?”

Grayson looked you up and down and shook his head. “I suppose you can’t really, not without proper swimwear.”

You got in the pool in a suit when you were drunk, you didn’t say. 

“I have a bathing suit on under this,” you explained. “I just… why do I need to get in the water? Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath. 

“I’ve decided I owe you an apology. For what happened.” You knew immediately what he was referring to. “I was reckless and foolish and unintentionally put the burden of myself onto you. It would have been easier for you to just leave me be, but you dealt with my mess. I appreciate that.” 

The silence that followed was only interrupted by the gentle lapping of the pool.

“See why I figured you should get in?” He asked. “We’d be at an even level. Better suited for such a conversation.”

“Or you could just get out,” you offered. 

“Please?” 

That word again.

Grayson Hawthorne knew what he was doing. 

“Fine,” you groaned, but really only half annoyed. You turned around as you began to take off the layers above the swimsuit, watching him in the corner of your eye as he looked away respectfully.

The cold hit you even harder now that you had removed your hoodie, and you hoped that the pool was well heated. 

“Okay, okay.” You began walking over to the edge of the pool where Grayson was. When his eyes found you, he stared for a little longer than normal before answering.

“You’re nervous,” he observed. “Can you swim?”

You shrugged, taking another step closer. “I know how to stop myself from drowning.”

Grayson moved out of your way and you sat on the edge of the pool with your feet getting wet. It was heated, thankfully. Comfortably so. No wonder he loved to come here at night. 

He was watching you silently. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it was killing you. Not that anyone could ever tell what Grayson Hawthorne hid behind those piercing eyes, but yet another question amidst everything that had happened that week was too much.

Of course he’s a mystery, he’s a Hawthorne. 

Before you could overthink it even further, you got in.

The warmth of the water enveloped you, contrasting greatly with the chill of the night air. You were holding onto the wall, not planning on letting go because your swimming skills were just barely above that of a child starting swim lessons. But Grayson’s intense gaze kept your heart racing. 

He swam towards you, grabbing onto the wall a little closer but still leaving a respectful distance between you. “Do you know why I sent the 911?”

“No,” you admitted. “It scared me.”

“I apologize for that. I panicked.”

You hadn’t expected that confession from him.

“You panicked?”

He nodded slowly. “I was afraid you’d think less of me after how I acted. You haven’t spoken to me in days, so I wasn’t sure you’d come otherwise.” The vulnerability in his voice was tangible.

“It’s not that I’ve been trying to avoid you, Grayson,” you explained. “I just… I mean, you haven’t spoken to me either.”

“I thanked you, I thought we were past what happened. I didn’t think we needed to talk about it.”

“You thanked me and then flirted and walked away.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Did I?”

“You know very well what you did,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your face. 

He swam a little closer. His voice dropped to the same sincere tone it had adopted back when he was drunk. When you’d told him to be careful and he’d cupped your face. When he said he’d never hurt you, never. 

“Perhaps I do. But that doesn’t change the fact that I burdened you with my drunk self.”

“You’re not a burden, Grayson,” you told him, also pushing yourself closer to him along the wall. “It was no problem, really. Just a little entertaining.”

He chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or bitter. 

The way he was looking at you was making you feel something. Something you couldn’t name but… didn’t quite hate. You started to move yourself a little closer to him until-

Splash.

Your hand slipped off the edge of the pool, accidentally sending you back. Not exceptionally far or deep into the pool, but enough to make you panic. You could keep yourself afloat, sure, but not when you were suddenly pushed away from the only solid thing keeping your head above water.

But before you could fully let the panic set in, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you upwards.

The sensation of being lifted was disorienting. You were overwhelmed by the sudden rush of water and movement, then the lack of water as your head reached the surface again. Even if you’d barely been below the water for a few seconds, you found yourself gasping for air. 

Grayson’s arm around you was the only steady thing in the chaos.

“Hey, hey” Grayson spoke, and it took a moment for your startled mind to process the words. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to focus. It took a moment for your breathing to calm down, but you helped yourself by rationalizing it; you’d been under the water for maybe five seconds, there was no need to panic so much.

The shock had just gotten you.

His voice broke through again, focusing your vision and hearing on him. “Just breathe, in and out. Nice and slow, just like that.”

You followed his instructions, taking deep breaths. Your panic began to fade, and you became painfully aware of how close he now was to you, the proximity at which he held you.

Grayson didn’t let go as you calmed down, simply keeping you tucked protectively in his arm as if the water was threatening you. He used his free hand to reach up and brush a wet strand of hair from your face behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle, so careful, that you felt your heart flutter.

“Are you alright?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. Thank you.”

He only nodded in return, his usually sharp gray eyes beginning to soften as he stared down at you. He didn’t move his hand away after moving the hair out of your face. It stayed there, lingering around your ear, until he decided to move down, cupping your face.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the first time that shirtless Grayson Hawthorne was holding your face in his large hands and looking at you in a way that was more than an annoyed glance. 

But it felt different this time. More intense, more real. 

He wasn’t drunk, not hungover; there was no doubt in your mind that he really meant everything. His eyes were still locked on yours with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place, yet somehow felt deep within your core. 

He leaned forward, so close to you that your foreheads were almost touching. His eyes fluttered shut and you realized what was happening only after you felt the words he whispered against your lips-

“I’m sorry.”

Grayson closed the small gap between you, gently pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant at first, like he was giving you the chance to pull away or tell  him to stop. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into the kiss, the arm around you tightened.

Your hands moved on their own, both sliding their way up to rest on his chest. He responded to your touch with a low hum that made you shiver despite the heated pool. 

His arm moved up to the back of your head, pushing you impossibly closer to him. The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, like he was trying to express every emotion he’d been hiding for the past week. It was overwhelming, and for a moment nothing existed outside of you and Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

When he pulled back, you kept your eyes closed. Grayson placed a small kiss on your forehead before resting it against his own. You were so close now, much closer than before, but that didn’t matter anymore.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he admitted softly.

“Me too, Grayson,” you grinned. “Me too.”

When he kissed you again, he tasted like those stupid cherries he loved and felt like the end of the world.

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

[hearts4chriss]

Tape that shit.

Boyfriend Chris x only fans girlfriend

prompt: you ask Chris if he wants to film some content w u and he obviously says yes

Part 6

warnings: sex tape ??, creampie,pet names ( baby, good boy, slut, ma, mama ), toys, 69, reverse cowgirl, overstimulation, sub!Chris, fat assed reader

I’m a cam girl, I do only fans.

I make my money

I met Chris beforehand tho and I took a break once we got together, I did tell him and boy was excited every time he’d get a “ding!” From my onlyfans he’d immediately go watch them and send me a video of him jerking off to my picture or video.

That’s when I got an idea

Why don’t I ask Chris, my man, to film some with me?

I’m sure he’d say yes.

Just the thought of him whimpering for me, and me moaning his name as we’re in 69, my ass grinding on his pretty as I suck his dick and he whimpers and eats my pussy. I’d place a vibrator on his tip teasing him as well, making him cum twice, already seeing him fucked out but I wouldn’t be done

reverse cowgirl, I know we’ve never tried this position surprisingly because I’m a freakk but first time for everything. Just picturing his face when my ass is riding his fat cock in his face he’d absolutely fucking loose his mind.

I can’t wait to see his pretty little face as I fuck him

so I quickly got off my bed and did my edges throwing on some lashes and some lip gloss before slipping on my matching pink lace panties and bra, the thong hugged my curves perfectly and my thigh tattoo shown off right in front of him and the small tattoo on my ass “Chris”

I quickly pull out my phone and send Chris a pic

my man💋💋

damn baby you look good as fuck what’s the occasion?

my girl🤍

wanna film some content with me :)

Chris’s pov

the second she sent that I immediately felt my dick press against my boxers and I groan. I’ve been waiting for her to ask me this. How could I say no?

my man💋💋

shittt I’m omw rn do not move.

my girl🤍

good boy :)

Good boy?? She’s only called me that once..she’s never been dominant towards me but maybe today’s the day and fuck I can’t wait.

***knock knock***

I hear him knock and finish setting up the cameras and lights in my bedroom making sure you could capture all angles. The cameras would start recording any moment now.

I walk downstairs making sure I look good and I then open the door.

“hey baby”. I say leaning on the doorway smirking a bit seeing Chris’s jaw drop the moment he saw me.

“let’s go- upstairs now- “he says trying to get me upstairs but I quickly stop him and he raises an eyebrow.

“oh ur gonna be submissive today baby, get ur ass on my bed.”I say pointing upstairs

“oh yes ma’am.” He says his lips curving into a small smirk and he goes upstairs seeing my set up.

“Ba- “I stop him by pushing him on my bed crawling over to him straddling my ass on his lap and he groans.

“Someone’s needy already, haven’t even touched you yet.” I chuckle my hands pressing onto his clothed dick and he clenched his fist in frustration.

“F-fuckk- “Chris moans begging for my attention and hands on him.

“hm I’m curious how long have you been waiting for me?” I mock him beginning to pull down his sweatpants seeing his boxers with a wet patch and Chris’s cheeks flush red.

“it’s okay baby just be a good boy and I’ll take care of you I promise”. I say softly and he nods eagerly

“P-please I’ll be so good mama”- he whines and whimpers desperate now.

I pull his boxers down and grip the base of his lengthy cock seeing pre cum oozing from the red tip.

“Such a pretty cock baby”. I kiss the tip and he whimpers and I smile taking of my thong straddling his chest.

“69?” Chris asks looking up at me before peering to all the cameras and gulping and I smirk

I nodded placing my pussy in his face and my hand grips the base of dick.

“Ready mama?” The desperate boy says holding my ass spreading it open to have more access for him.

“Yes baby whenever you are.” I say turning on the vibrator pressing it on the tip and he whimpers loudly.

“Mmph fuck-“ he groans before diving his tongue into my wetness making me moan out his name in curses as he sucks on my pussy harshly.

“O-oh fuck Chris! S-shit-“ i let my jaw drop steadily running the vibrator on the throbbing veins of his cock his hand grip my ass tightly with desperation licking between my folds.

Chris pulls my thighs closer to his head nuzzling his nose into my cunt dripping for him.

His cock twitched in my hand with anticipation needing to cum desperately as I gave his tip a few kisses making him squirm.

I pressed the vibrator more on his tip and I saw his toes curl and I smirked slapping Chris’s dick on my tongue and he moaned into my pussy as I moaned out his name

“Fuck-yes baby so good-“ I cried out his name while slapping his dick on my tongue with the vibrator running along his veins and he twitched in my hand

“s-shit ma I’m gonna cum!” Chris whimpers his hot breath enough to make me squirt all over his face as I stroked him faster allowing his warm load to shoot on my hand coating it.

“Fuck-“ he breathed out as I moved from his face and saw how wet he was, his face glistening in the light of my room with my cum but I wasn’t finished.

I turned off the vibrator throwing it to the side leaving a deep kiss on his lips and he moaned into it trying to pull me back.

“Baby-“!he whined and I chuckled.

“wanna try something new?” I asked giving him those eyes seeing his cock perk up along with his eyes.

“Sure Mama what is it.” Chris asked biting his lip slightly.

“wanna try reverse cowgirl?” I said running my fingers along his thigh winking at my camera.

“Oh fuck- yes I would-“ Chris mutters his dick twitched at the though of this position.

I smirk and move myself to face my ass towards him and I position myself on his cock sliding down easily feeling him stretch out my walls.

“F-fuckk chris- ur so big-“ I moan beginning to bounce a bit slowly at first his dick slickly sliding in and out of me easily.

“O-oh shit baby- ur s-so tight-“ Chris groans sitting back his hand caressing my hip watching me ride him.

fuck- I can't believe the internet is about to see how Good Chris and I fuck was all that ran through my mind. His cock sliding in and out of my slick walks and his whimpers from being overstimulated was enough to make nearly cum but fuck- it was hot.

I started twerking on his dick while I was riding him in Reverse cowgirl and hearing him moan "shit" from behind I knew was enjoying that.

“Fuck- ur so hot mama-“ he whimpers grabbing my ass and leaving a smack on my right making me whimper as he did the same feeling my ass move on his thighs watching it twerk right in front of him, Chris was a major ass guy so I knew this would send him over the edge.

“Yeah? you like when I twerk on ur cock baby?” I bite my lip turning around chris looked so fucked out seeing me like this on him.

“oh fuck- yes-fuck yes- “the boy moans desperately slapping my ass and I chuckle beginning to bounce on him again at a much faster pace, curses and moans leaving both of our mouths.

I rolled my hips a bit as he groaned deeply, his dick meeting my pelvis hearing him squirm was so damn hot.

“SHIT- oh fuckk- “!he whimpers gripping my ass tightly for sure leaving a few marks.

I felt Chris's cock twitch inside my walls as they closed in on him and he squirms rocking my ass harder begging for a release.

“fuck- be a good boy and cum for me- deep inside me baby.” I breath out heavily and chris moans loudly.

“F-fuck ma i'll be a good boy- Fuck! I promise.” Chris whines begging for a orgasm practically.

I bounced on him harder my ass slapping on his thighs.

“FUCK-“ Chris yells as he released his cum deep inside me.

“Hold on baby I gotta cum to.” I smirk before flipping myself back to face him and I gripped his shoulders steadying my body so I could ride him.

“Mmph- mama- s-so good-“ his whimpers fill my ears as my stomach feels hot and I start rubbing my swollen clit chasing my orgasm.

Chris's hands grip my ass helping bounce me on his dick and I cry out his name.

“S-shit baby- fuck im gonna cum!” I throw my head back his hand replaced mine and allowing me to squirt over his cock and lower stomach.

“Fuck baby-“ he groans as I slide off of him and stop my camera and turn off my lights.

“Shit- I need to film with you more often ma- fuck ur so good- “He lies back on the pillows and i smile.

“Oh I already have plans for what to do you next”. I smirk and he raises an eyebrow

“Whats that baby?” He chuckles sitting up and I lean over to his lips

"bondage".

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[honestsycrets]

dedication | young!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | young geneticist!miguel o'hara x scientist!reader

❛ type | oneshot, explicit.

❛ summary | alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though.

❛ tags | virgin reader, f!reader, shitty science, plot heavy, loose canon references, literary liberties, loss of virginity, overprotective Miguel o'hara, jealous miguel o'hara, some objectification, workplace politics, aftercare (as requested), corruption (is it tho?), bc what bc, Spanish is not translated, young!miguel, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❛ fulfilled request | can we please have a miguel x virgin reader and he didn’t even know until he was already putting it in?? And then voila his corruption kink unexpectedly growS? @a--dedicated--fangirl

❛ sy’s notes | miguel sort of works on that whole corruption aspect throughout this fic, but i wanted to meld these two ideas together to create a reader who is entirely dedicated to Miguel. This piece was a bit long for me.

“Miguel, your new assistant is here.” 

On paper, you’re an excellent candidate for the genetics program. 

An excellent GPA, renowned company internships, decent publications, and a diverse upbringing. It was all good. Great, even. But as the head of the genetics program at Alchemax, he has a little thing called priorities. Interviewing everyone himself was low on the rung of shit he felt like he should be doing. There was, however, one little, itty bitty, tiny problem with bringing you on board.

“Dr. O’Hara? ¿Estas bien?”

That shirt-- is not meant to hold those-- His brain was left field, glimpsing at them. A slightly sheer button-up revealed the outline of your bustier and its inability to conceal your body. They should have been illegal. He was pretty sure they were illicit in the handbook on his table. He should really read that again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be salivating over something as simple as a co-worker-- He needed to get out of the lab. The bleached walls tightened around him, the space smaller than he remembered. He was going to get caught.

Realistically, the lab was full of witty people. Many of them were witty men with subpar looks and stupider dicks. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Not only because your lips were plump, painted petal-pink, and kissable or because the depth of your sultry eyes went straight in the dick. No, but because that would be improper of a man of his stature to tell one of the only women in his care that she was too gorgeous for the job you were clearly qualified for. 

“Sí, coño,” He fixed his glasses, crooked on his broad nose. He stood up from his desk and grabbed his lab coat, swirling it around his broad shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, you tracked the movement with your eyes. “Do you want a cafecito? Miss…”

You told him your name. He mulled it over on his tongue, lathing it in a gentle acknowledgment. Cemented it in a place he wouldn't forget. You tinked your head to the side, your lashes fluttering when he cleared his throat. Great, just shocking-- 

“After you,” he headed for the door. He held it open for you, plastering his back to the wood. It didn't matter. You slid by closer than he’d prefer, your hand catching on his belt buckle with muttered apologies. This wasn’t going to end well. 

Cafecito is an excellent excuse to pull his dumbass together. 

It also calms his nerves, centers his mind, and allows him to compartmentalize. Whether or not you could hold your own wasn’t his issue, his issue was the necessity of someone he could trust. Ugly, beautiful-- so long as they were efficient, Miguel would make due. The cafeteria was a large and clean space. The many tables were crowded with wrap-around stations for poorly crafted, misery-inducing meals. Miguel paid and took a seat at a creaky table. One where he could see the door open, shut, and keep an eye on the comings and goings of meager scientists and annoying managers. 

“You’ll be working with me.” 

You pursed your lips around the warm cup of coffee, taking a ginger sip. He noted your lipstick stain that remained as you pushed the cup toward the middle of the table you shared with him. This damn suit vest was stifling. He gave you a long, slow look, tilting his head to the fact that you’d not drunk anything. It’d be rude to acknowledge.

“Delgado told me,” you smiled warmly. “He said you’re a genius. I don’t know that I believe in geniuses.” 

Hmph. Delgado, things fell into place. That sycophant knew what he liked. He also knew that Miguel was better than him, always was, and always would be. Miguel offered you a slick smile, convinced he could assure you otherwise if he needed to. “Delgado says a lot of things. I’m surprised he gave you to me.”

“Why is that, O’Hara?” the way his name slipped off your tongue was a hot sin. If only he believed in a god. His eyelids shifted over his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’re beautiful. He likes to collect beautiful things,” Miguel tried, curious.  Your nails clicked in succession over the table. A repetitive click, click, click. He would be annoyed too if he were no more than a ploy. A distraction. Miguel wasn’t sure that it wasn’t working. His eyes flickered down, catching one of your palms curling into a tight fist, tension rolling through your fingers and up your arms. “He knows I do too.” 

You leaned in, close enough that he could spot the unique freckles spread out in a crescent moon beneath a layer of makeup on your face. Beautiful. “I’m not here to belong to you, O’Hara. I hope you know that.” 

He was off to a great, fantastic start.

 “Understood.” Miguel leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping up his lips. Or, believe that you believed that. You spared him any more mincing comments. Appeased by his suggestion, you brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good. What are we sequencing?” 

“Me.” 

You swallowed. “You? You can’t be--” 

Mhm, he stared, lips pressed tightly together. “You’ll code my DNA. Then we’ll splice it.” 

"With what?"

"You'll see."

“Is this your little,” you swirled your finger in a circle. “Pet project?” 

Unfortunately not, he would have liked to say. That information was confidential, and though you worked on the project, there were levels to his willingness to involve you in the delicate flow of workplace politics. Still, you might make a healthy distraction from his work. Miguel took a swig of his cafecito, boring into the black substance.

“Something like that.” 

Having a pretty assistant means things don’t always get done according to schedule. Not quickly enough, not by far. There is a time limit to everything at Alchemax. The quicker, the better. Thus this project demanded more hours of his time. The project was spliced between the work required of him by superiors and you, your quirks, and your preferences. 

Miguel has learned a great many things about you in a short amount of time. You don’t appreciate misplaced pet names. You actually can’t handle coffee because of the caffeine or the sugar. He also learns things about himself. How little he likes when Delgado comes to check on progress because he isn’t actually checking on shit. He's checking you out. 

He likes to weasel his nasty fingers around the door, peering in to try and find out what specimen he’s actually working on. Miguel was much too smart for that. His beady eyes caught Miguel over your shoulder, mumbling up to him about a new finding in tests you ran earlier that day. Your face mask twirled around your index finger, finally free and at a documentation workspace.   Funny, because he clearly redacts information from your well-recorded notes on the daily. You refuse to include less.

“Hey Mike,” he said. “How are things… Oh hey, you. You settling in, honey? Mike treating you ok? I can discipline him for you.”

“As if you could,” Miguel huffed. 

But Delgado spying on you, the way you record progress by pouting out your lips, shifting between paper and your lab reports, was intolerable. Because... well, he has sensitive information on there. Your nose scrunches in distaste, but you bow your head just slightly as a hello. He might be his supervisor, but Miguel doesn’t need one to know why this asshole is in his lab turning his smarmy brown eyes over the way you sit: one leg over the other. You seem to realize it too, trailing your eyes over his gaudy suit to Miguel’s sinewy hand on your shoulder. 

“Stop being a creep,” Miguel complained, “She has actual work to do.”

“Actual work? As opposed to--“

“Yes, what you do.” Miguel spat out. You eschewed a giggle, turning your face over a pristine white lab jacket that thankfully, you had no qualms in wearing. Otherwise, he might not finish any work in the lab at all. 

“I supervise--

“You’re still talking but we’re not listening,” Miguel waved him off, plucking up papers by your side. Your eyes snap up to Miguel’s deep chocolate eyes hidden behind the thin frame of his metal glasses, waiting for a proper response. “Goodbye, Aaron.”

Miguel walks to the door, locks it with a click, and returns to your side. You glance at his white lab coat, fluttering around his tapered waist. He loves the way your eyes look at him with a soft, inviting expression, beseeching him to come to sit by your side as he always did. “Not a fan of Delgado, I take it.” 

“Are you?” Miguel sits with his legs spread, his fingers threading through his thick brown hair. You set your papers down, swiveled toward him. The wheels of your rolling chair squeak on either side of his thick, black boots. His eye catches your thick thighs, squashed between your midi skirt, its atrocious slip causing him discomfort. His hand leaves his thick hair, dropping in unison side by side. 

“I can’t stand being called honey, Mike.” 

“Shut up.”

The days proceed similarly. Days filled with brushing past him as he slides in samples and reagents. He might lose a sample, clattering on the floor, and you always rush to help him clean up. Lunch together, because no matter how late he eats, you’re there beside him. Then as night falls, you stay until he has finished whatever he needs to do.

“Time to eat something,” you slipped into his office. The clock ticked past midnight. Miguel flicked through handwritten pages of information that did not need to be recorded in computer files. You watched his eyes scan over the ink on the page, acknowledging you with a grumpy grunt. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing the last section of the project.

“Empanada,” you turned his palm over, placing the flaky pastry in his hand. Caramelized apple. He loved a good apple empanada. He watched as you walked over to the coffee maker, drawing him a warm cafecito just how he liked it. Miguel dropped his pen, stretching out his aching spine. 

“Gracias. From where?” 

“I made them,” you set down the cup a little harder than intended. The surface rippled, throwing hot coffee drips onto his pages. His eyes flickered up from the pages to your eyes. Without thinking, he blathers:

“That so?” A pause. “Don’t you have a man?” 

“Miguel. With this sequencing project, you’re the only man in my life. Shut up and eat the empanada.” 

“Huh. Good. I like that.” He swallowed the empanada with a bob of his head, his tongue lathing over his teeth for any more of the sweet sugar. He stood up, finding your expression soft, drawn out by a sense of longing that he couldn’t imagine he saw.  

“You like my sad love life?” 

Yes.

“No, we have a company event. A ball,” Miguel chided, his tone gentling as he slipped away from his desk, abandoning his steamy coffee on his desk. He backed out of the doorway, “It’s all Stone’s politics. You know how these things are. I have to go. Come with me.” 

“Is that a request or an order?” 

“A date.” 

I’d love to. Your words were the only thing that made tonight bearable. Slinking his tanned skin into a dark blue suit that cinched everything too tight was… unbearable. It clung to his skin like a second skin and choked off his air. But it might be worth it to see your face-- just maybe. He tracked the fluttering tails of fish behind bulletproof glass, following them as they fluttered away into their rock. He wished he could too. 

“Miguel?” 

“You’re here,” he turned around, dropping the champagne he idly held in his hand. It went forgotten by his boot as you called his name again. His gaze fixed on yours, the slinky navy blue dress caused his heart to thrum through his chest, chasing the sight of your body at his feet, picking shards of glass up with the aid of a worker, apologizing profusely for the mess. A soft puff of breath slipped from his lips as you stood back up, gripping your purse a little harder in your hands. He ran his hand over his jaw, drawing himself back to his senses.

“Miggy,” he husked out. “Call me Miggy.” 

“You look handsome, Miggy,” his name felt unreal on your lips until he felt the pressure on his elbow. Your soft hands slunk around his, cradling him for some security in the face of the large doors. He shook himself back to his senses. Right, there was a reason he was here. “But shouldn’t we go?” 

He should have-- but did he want to? No, not really. He didn’t want to see Stone’s greasy face, let Aaron take a peek at how you looked dolled up, or any of the rest of these fuckers. What he wanted was something else entirely. 

“Listen.” Miguel stopped, his other hand coming to the jeweled bracelet on your wrist. The doors to the ballroom lapsed, groups of older men filtering in and out with their pieces of the night: doting wives, longing husbands, and partners that their wives or husbands probably didn’t know about. “Don’t wander off from me. They’re all snakes. All of them.” 

“Even you?” 

“Hermosa,” you didn’t leer at him. “I’m the least of your worries.” 

He wasn’t wrong. The ballroom was dolled up in lush fabrics, fine china, and a copious amount of food as it was every year. Miguel found the attempt to distract from what really went on behind closed doors at Alchemax a bit cloying. This year the music was at least tolerable. It filtered out into the ballroom in a syrupy melodies driven on by the soft, promises of rich men for the exchange of sex. For much of the night, he could stomach the various men poking and prodding at him about his impending research. So long as you were here.

“Miggy,” you breathed, a hot puff of air against his ear. He leaned down, his hand atop of yours. “Will you dance with me?” 

Dance? Miguel had two left feet-- it’s why he was a geneticist. For all the work you did on his behalf in the lab, including this very night, he owed you the benefit of whatever you wanted. He searched out a quiet area, one where the only disruption could be the stream of moonlight in through a window. You preferred it over the wall of vivacious men and over-powdered women. He preferred it over the atrocity of his footwork.

“It’s not much of a date,” Miguel’s hand slid around yours. He encompassed your small palm with his large hand, the other gliding across the soft, exposed skin of your back. You swayed with him, side to side. He was an awful dancer, but there was something endearing about that. He saw it in your eyes, the glimmer of curiosity, gliding your dark heels against the inside of his foot. Damn, he still sucked.

“No,” you agreed, shifting to take the lead. He followed your steps. Right, back, left, up. Maybe he stepped on your long dress once or twice, too. Shock, he cursed again, stepping over your foot.

“You’re remarkably bad at this.” You settled your head on his chest, letting your box steps fade into little more than the shifting of your hips. 

“I know. Let’s just-- sway?” 

“Swaying is good.”  

“O’Hara,” boomed Stone. But of course— peace couldn’t last forever. Like a bullet through the chest, a voice caused him to turn in startle. His tan cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling cut off from the cover of others. He was dressed in the most gaudy of clothes that almost seemed to match the crooked expression on his pale face. No matter how many times he tried to fix it, it always looked… wrong. 

Stone’s hands came together, clapping multiple times to force the crowd of politicians, scientists, and bought-in participants to fade away. His voice caused Miguel to growl, a low rumbly noise that you soothed with your breasts pushing gingerly against his arm. He could do it. He could handle this pompous little shit-- “And who is this beauty? A new girlfriend, perhaps? Fiance? O’Hara could do with a wife. Settle him down, y’know.”

Miguel huffed out of his nostrils. “This is my lab partner,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward. “For… the project.”

“Her? A lab partner? Ha!” 

Shock. He didn’t have to look at you to know you were insulted. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing out the tension as you smiled through the interaction, taking over for Miguel. “We have measurable results.” 

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet thing. Now, Miguel, Aaron has found a test subject…”

“I’ll interview them.” 

“No need! I--” 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you two talk,” you slipped away, your heels clicking off into the busy crowd. Stone was talking. Miguel knew he should listen closely. His half-formed plan to see what the future held for his research was wafting into the air, wisps of it in his ear. Tomorrow-- test-- can you? Panic blinded his senses. He could find you nowhere in the room, and even if he did, would he be too late? 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, it’s… excuse me.” 

The issue with falling for someone was the scythe of his fear. His position was inherently risky. No matter how many groups of people he cut through trying to find you, you weren’t there. No tiny little appetizers of shrimp on half a skewer. No booze, because your head would swim. Not near the bathrooms, either. He rushed down the steps when he found you, just before the large iron gates, staring up at the stars peppering the sky. 

At your feet, Aaron. His drunken fingers trying and failing to guide the strap off of your ankle. You, of course, sat there staring dumbly down at his failed attempts to do something as simple as fix your damn heel.

“I’ll take it from here.” Miguel booted Aaron out of the way. Who, with his sloppy sloshed curses, tried to win a fight with him. He eventually won out. Aaron slunk away, somewhere up the steps. Miguel wasn’t counting. “You didn’t listen.” 

“Hm?” 

Miguel loosened both straps, sliding his open palm under your foot for one then the other. You gazed at him, sliding the black heels off your feet, tutting his tongue at the blistered back of your feet. 

“I told you not to wander off.” 

“I just wanted to see the stars. Besides, it was just Aaron.” 

“It’s never just Aaron. It’s Aaron and Stone.” Miguel’s eyebrows pushed against one another, recording your failure to listen. You crossed one leg over the other, sliding your toes over his silk tie, kept beneath a vest. He knelt before you, searching your eyes for the right answer. “You don’t know… what you’re getting into. I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

 “I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself, Miguel. Please don’t--” you sighed. “Don’t be like them.” 

He knew what you meant. Like Aaron, peeling off your shoes at the sign of discomfort because you were a pretty woman. Or Stone, who couldn’t comprehend your value as a scientist. Those who doubted you because of your color, gender, or a mixture of the two. His mouth twisted in frustration. He was in deep. Whatever you desired, he wanted to give. It came at a price.

“Are you mine,” the words came out stiff, “or theirs?” 

“Miggy,” you turned the word over on your tongue, willing him to stand down. His dark eyes settled on yours, unmoving. “Why do I have to pick?” 

“You can’t have both. You’ll have to choose. One day.” 

Your mind worked. He knew from the way you pursed your lip out, then in, puncturing its pillowy surface with your teeth. You shifted your gaze to the water, the stream coursing down the unfeeling stone. Miguel's fingers ran across your inner thigh, causing you to gaze down at him. The steps of others on the other side of the fountain, fading into the depths of the night caused you to break his gaze. Miguel offered you his hand, fitting the shoes under his other arm as he walked toward the valet. You took his hand and interlaced your fingers.

“Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” you said, though the words felt thready and thin, nary a whisper. Something in the undercurrent of your voice concerned him. A thread that needed to be snipped, convinced of the vileness of the city-- of who you worked for. 

He doesn’t make mistakes. 

But he left the project code on his desk. It should have been there, yet, the corpse of a decrepit, awful creature withered on the lab floor proved otherwise. Someone had taken it because he was distracted. As a result, someone lost their life... even if it was Stone's doing.

Now, scouring through his papers, his hands tremored like a common drug addict. He supposed he was one, a druggie, tremoring like a shot hungry, Rapture crazed-- 

“Miggy?” 

He snapped around. His gaze melded your figure into one beautiful blurb, even with the glasses on his broad nose. It was your voice, coded in something close to concern. Miguel ran his hands through his hair, long strands falling messily over his eyes and cheekbones. He flattened his hands out atop his head.

“What are you looking for?” 

“The notes,” he weathered a breath. He doddered about the room, throwing a stack of paper onto the floor. They crumpled over the floor, mixed projects, notes on the specimen, but none were his. “Where are my notes?” 

“You’re sick,” your voice broke gently, as if speaking them alone helped. A horrid crack of laughter slipped from his throat, drawing into a long lament as he repeated the words after you. Sick, you said, he was sick. If being sick was the least of his issues, he would have been a happy man. Your steps rang into his ear, heavier than before, painful and loud. He crumpled onto the couch in his office, his hands cupping them. Your soft hands coursed over his chest, unbuttoning his starched button-up and sliding it down his muscular upper arms. “This might hurt.” 

No kidding, needles always hurt. But the instantaneous relief that flooded his system overrode the momentary pain. As your fuzzy figure came into focus, he recognized the drug that you set aside. 

“You didn’t--” 

“You were right, Miggy, about the-- Mr. Sims.”  Miguel gazed at you, leafing through novels of notes with trembling hands. He cursed himself for subjecting you to seeing that. Not quite human, not quite... The twisted look on the poor man’s face. What months of research with one another had offered. He would fix it. He knew the research was on point. It was the application that was lacking.

“I have a copy of your notes,” you murmured as if someone could hear. They likely could. “¿Ay, puñeta, dónde está? Ah! Here, here it is. Your… profile.” 

“You kept it,” he glanced down at the hastily scribbled note attached to the clip. ‘Miguel’s profile’ alongside a soft pink heart. He stopped your hands from thumbing through another leaflet. His eyes traced the dry ink of the heart. His thumb moved to stroke it, catching the sight of bubbling tears welling over in your eyes out of the corner of his eye. The tears slid down your full cheeks, triggering his discomfort to well up in his stomach. Miguel shifted closer, flicking fat droplets off your slight jaw.

“Hermosa,” Miguel shifted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “¿Que te pasa?”

“I should have listened to you Miggy,” you began, inhaling air forcefully through your nostrils. Breathe, you murmured. Miguel's soft hand cupped the back of your neck like a collar. You were happy to be collared by his hand, it felt safe. 

His eyes narrowed, thumb caressing the loose strands of hair at your nape. “You should have. You know I'll take care of you."

You nodded.

"You have to be fully dedicated to me.” 

“I am.” 

“Show me.” You fluttered your eyes, the gears of your mind working to understand what he meant. His hand fell away to trace the bow of your black blouse. He tugged on the knot, slipping the bow loose and running his fingers over your exposed cleavage below. “Take off the blouse.” 

Was it necessary? Some might have said no-- but sex, in its connective nature-- was the ultimate dedication. At the end of it all, that's what he craved: your eyes, your actions, all born with him in mind. With trembling fingers, you untucked your shirt from your black slacks. Miguel sat back, tracking the soft lace of your balconette bra teasing his eye. You loitered for a minute too long, enough for him to lift his thick eyebrow.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. Your knees knocked together, slipping the shirt over and off your torso before draping it on the arm of his couch. Your bra followed quickly after, slipping out of the twisted straps. You skimmed your hands over your breasts, holding them for comfort.

"No." Miguel flicked his fingers, motioning for your hands to move from your thick nipples.  You pushed your breasts together, allowing him to marvel at them a second longer. “Que maravilla... You have no idea how long I’ve waited. Go on, take off the rest now.” 

You suckled in breath, sliding the button of your pants loose. Then the zipper, its cloth scratching your thighs on its way to pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, joining them too with your shirt. Miguel sat up, running his calloused fingers over the side of your hip and waist. His thumbs hooked in your panties, drawing them down over your pussy, a moist spot on your panties connecting a small string of wetness to your pussy. His palm slid between your thighs, pinned by your thighs pressed together, whether out of an innate need for more pressure or shyness to show him how wet you were. Hm. Miguel melded your ass, striking your skin with his large palm, it jiggled.

“Miggy,” you breathed, shy and intimidated. “I have to tell you something…” 

“Lay down,” he told you. 

“But Miggy, what if someone…” Your eyes darted away from his, chewing on his cheek as you slid back down beside him. You settled on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs. The couch was stiff, hard against your neck. You stole a haughty glimpse at his face, focused entirely on coursing his palms over your calves and thighs, then back down to your slight toes. He ground your feet over his stiff cock, obscured by the fabric of his slacks. He felt big-- bigger than you could have imagined from the look on your face. 

“¡Basta!” Miguel growled, “No one is going to come in. Let me see you.” 

You flushed. 

“You want me to…” you glanced down, your curls were soft to the touch. 

“Touch yourself for me.” 

With your heart strumming in your chest, you shifted your hand down, spreading your lips, soft and wet. You were so wonderfully shy to follow his orders, the pads of your fingers rubbing along your outer lips, massaging them warm and swollen. You buried your eyes into your other arm, dragging up and down, over and over. A delightful sigh greeted his ear, ensuring that though you were too embarrassed to look at him, you loved it. He allowed it for now-- because he was a gracious, forgiving man. 

“Shock,” Miguel shuffled at the button and zipper of his pants, freeing himself from his slacks. He spat into his palm, stroking over his fleshy length, squishing his cock against your foot. Your toes curled over his cockhead, engrossed in Miguel’s rumbling pants, the soft pleasure that bloomed from his chest. Your eyes trained on his lips, the slight breath suckled between his teeth. Your fingers glazed over your stiff clit, pausing as though you needed his permission, just how he wanted it. Your sweet submission. 

His eyebrow perked. “You can touch it.” 

“Oh,” you glanced down, tracing the way Miguel fisted himself, swirling up to his cockhead, along fat veins and the bubble of salty fluid on his tip. His permission seemed to spur something else in you, flicking your swollen clit to the sound of his pleasured growling, your own pleasure growing in tandem with his. 

“¡Ya!” he annunciated, watching as you failed to stop. All at once he stopped his ministrations. A sigh escaped his chest as he pushed himself up, smacking your hand away from your puffy cunt. His cock bobbed between your bodies. You wanted to touch it, but couldn’t.

"Wait," you cried out. His cock twitched as he lowered his hips down, drawing sweet lubricant on his cock, stroking your pussy. He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss. He dipped his hand down, his cockhead prodding and poking, dipping lower with the aid of his hand. 

“MiggyI’mavirgin,” you said all at once, his cockhead nudged against your entrance. Miguel’s head about snapped as he looked up, eyes popped wide open in disbelief. Before he could quite form a coherent thought, your hands shot out to grip his suit vest, stopping him where he was.

“¿Qué dejiste? Say that again?” 

“I haven’t… I haven't had sex,” you murmured. He hadn’t put it together. Your shyness, the awkward way you shuffled around, loosening your bra and hiding your perfect breasts from his eyes. The words were finally out in the open but didn't register.

"A..." Miguel fisted his cock, once, then twice, shifting back to kneel before you. Your eyes fell on his muscular thighs, the way his hand fisted his dick. “You’re a virgin?”

“I’m too old for this,” you mumbled, hiding your eyes with your palms. Miguel shifted to cast aside your hands from your eyes, his muscular body caging you underneath, looking for an explanation. “I just. Between school, work, I never had time.” 

Not that he was complaining.

"No boyfriend?"

You shook your head. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only were you gorgeous, but you were untouched. His, completely and fully. He liked it better that way-- to be the first memory smeared in your head. So that when you looked back on this moment, right now, it would forever be marked by his face.

"It's mine," he blurted out all at once. "I want your first to be mine."

His hand dropped down to your cunt. The pad of his middle finger worked at your entrance as though he were exploring the truth of your statement, stretching you with the aid of his fingers. You were tight, it had to be true.

You nodded, face buried deep in your arm. It didn’t take but moments for him to draw his hand back, suckling the lubricant from his fingertips. You distantly registered his words, “Damn it, you... you don't know what you do to me.” 

Before you could say a word more, Miguel positioned the head of his dick against your slippery virgin hole. You clenched, glancing down between your bodies again, as you had a dozen times, anxiously waiting. Miguel hushed you, the repetitive shushing of his lips soothing you into complacency, forcing your muscles to relax. “It might hurt. But the pain won’t last,” he assured you.

He rolled his hips forward. His sharp exhale shook with every centimeter that gave way. Your walls were forced apart, suffocating you on the shock of adjusting to having someone, no not someone, Miguel-- your Miguel, sinking into your tense body. He throbbed, twitching in your body. His hands fisted in the aged couch, catching the breath in his chest. 

“Ay, Miggy,” your nails dug into his shirt, loose around his firm muscles. “Miggy, no puedo,” 

“You can, you’re so good, eres tan buena,” Miguel swept your lips between his, taking the moment of your surprise to bury himself further, swallowed by your cunt that resisted his intrusion. Your lips fluttered in the kiss, keened out a cry. The pain of his dick, forcing its way through your passage is quelled by the knowledge that he’s here, with you, his girth forcing you apart, stretching you apart, seating himself flush against your womb. His voice was caramelized, sugared over, and so good. “Look at how well you’re taking me already.” 

“Coño, that’s a tight pussy,” He slid his hips back, the warm sensation of his withdrawal pulling free before shoving back in, a cry shoving forth from your lips, filling his office and the connected lab with your cries. He might have heard someone draw the door open, his hips driving back in, centered on the magnificent groans that stuttered free from your chest with Miguel’s careful thrusts. You keened his name, a repetitious Miggy, Miggy, Miggy-- it was Aaron, probably. He recognized the way his feet drug on the floor. 

He hoped he didn’t just hear it. He hoped he saw it too, the way his balls slapped against your ass, the mess of blood soaking the already unhygienic couch, the way his cock pulsed. You were blissed out, so full and well of him like no one else ever had-- because you were his, and his alone. It wasn’t just sex. It was more than that. From Aaron, whose shuffled steps fell out of his office, to any other little bitch in the office who had their own gain. 

“Damn,” Miguel shifted back, hooking his hand around your thigh to drag you back onto his dick. He swirled his thumb against your stiff clit, whirling it around in one circle, then another, and by the third your knees knocked together, bearing down on his cock to hold him still. “I can’t--” you stuttered out, I can’t--” 

“You’re going to,” he hissed. “You’re going to cum right here, right now, split open on my dick.” 

With another circle, you croaked an ugly cry, a terrible, ugly cry that Miguel couldn’t find any more beautiful as your body buzzed around him, tightening and squeezing your already tight cunt around him. Blissful pleasure radiated there, riding his dick for the friction against your virgin walls, your thoughts fading into a realm of insistent pleasure, where thoughts were space mush.

Miguel withstood the pressure on his cock,  clamping his hand down on your hip. His thrusts stuttered, filling your belly with whip after whip with his full hot cum. Your body twitched in the throes of his orgasm. He tracked his eyes down to your body, withdrawing with a bubbly pop of his dick from your abused hole, the intermingling of cum and virginal blood dribbling down your cheeks. 

Your gaze tracked Miguel, pressing his lips toward yours one more time. You shifted on the couch, legs pathetically tremoring. Miguel chuckled and walked toward his electric kettle, papers crunching underneath his feet, “Don’t bother moving. Not that you could, anyway.”

He warmed a warm cloth with hot water, testing its temperature on his palm before sitting beside your crumpled legs, spreading your legs to clean his mess and sooth the abrasive way he took you. He spread your lips, ensuring you were clean before he would flip the cloth, dropping it on top of your vulva. 

“You know you’re mine,” he asked, though it came out as a statement. With another cloth, Miguel cleaned his soft cock of the mess, exhaustion of the sex and what was to come returning to his gentle, deep voice. 

“Sí,” you answered. 

“And you’d do anything for me. Only me.” 

The words were laced with something more than a suggestion, but an affirmation of your loyalty. Your love. You pushed yourself up, hanging off his arm after he tucked himself into his pants. “Para siempre.” 

He leaned down, plucking the bundle with his sequenced DNA information. Your eyes coursed the information on the page, darting up to his tired eyes. You wanted to ask why or what he knew. Miguel knew it didn't matter. You were his now, from the top of your head to the bottom of your gorgeous toes. You trusted him fully. As you should. With the empty vial of Rapture sitting beside him, forgotten, he spared you a mincing smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Good. Let's fix our project.” 

[hzllhoundz]

the outsiders x male reader hc !!

Sfw— headcannons don’t except it to be good I’m kinda stupid— feel free to request—also amab / gn pronounsish (no fem terms basically)

DALLY WINSTON - sfw

★ he deff has internalized homophobia (it’s the 60s) he still thinks it’s kinda gross but he loves you and to him that’s surprising he’s Dallas Winston and he doesn’t love anything he got close to you and feels safe

★If Johnny doesn’t like you or somthing he either has to come around to you or your out so be nice to Johnny help protect him and make sure he doesn’t die or anything like that (haha…*sobs*)

★he would probably be toxic ngl very possessive and he likes getting you angry and frustrated would love to fight with you and he doesn’t see anything wrong with you he is also protective and he won’t let you leave him so your stuck

★ super good hugger like bear hugs and he’s good at cooking if he wasn’t all hardened up hed be the best house husband but he stopped cooking and stuff and never cares to clean up (he refuses to do any of this anymore)

★he had a cat once, named her missy when he was younger his folks killed her and he held her a funeral and kissed her forehead before filling the hole with dirt if you have a cat of any kind he’s gonna love it to death, or let him keep one at your place

★he loves how male reader can stick up for himself, he loves it when your angry at him.. it gets him a little excited (wait tell later) even if it’s at him, he doesn’t let up flirting with girls but he won’t cheat on you.. he decided he wanted to stick with y’a the gang thinks your just really close friends you don’t dare tell no body not in talsa Oklahoma in the 60s

————————————————————-

SODAPOP CURTIS - sfw (sorry it’s short I ran out of ideas)

❤︎︎his hands are so soft like so soft despite being a greaser he has like soc skin Darry buys him moisturizer as a gift once and ever sense he’d have like two-bit get (steal) some more him

❤︎︎definition of a golden retriever boyfriend even tho your another boy he doesn’t see a problem (he never thought about homophobia or why it’s be wrong and didn’t pay attention in church like pony said) so when someone judges or a soc calls you guys ‘𝒻𝒶𝑔𝑔ℴ𝓉𝓈’ he gets very confused and Darry or pony have to explain it cus you feel to bad

❤︎︎he thinks your like a woman (not biologically) but like treats you like he would a girlfriend and almost called you a princess once but quickly apologized he baby’s you try’s to open jars for you your like a girlfriend but not a girl if you get what I mean

❤︎︎he dyed his hair once blonde and now he’s a few blonde strands every time he has a little bit of hair dye (like every few months he’s suddenly a little blonder)

————————————————————-

DARRY CUTRIS - sfw

➜ he’s a tough partner he acts like your a nuisance and he’s quite homophobic even to himself he doesn’t mean to be and he loves you but it’s hard for him he’s a cutie truly and his brothers love you which helps him

➜he’s busy working so any time you can help him out with money do so secretly of course he’d hate to be given money by you he’s an independent guy

➜you probably met by working or when he’s running around getting groceries or something help him carry stuff you a strong person 💪 he cooks in the mornings so maybe one day cook for him?

➜hold him when he goes to sleep he’s always so pent up and tired maybe he will finally relax massage him let the tension out (maybe save up for a boxing dummy for him) overall I think he’d cry if you held him tight told him you loved him conformation etc he’d love that

➜ he’s a simple vanilla guy he likes romantic stuff even if he’s always busy let him lay in your lap and play with his hair as you read or something the only ones who know about you two are probably soda, pony, and Johnny who’s around a lot and pony probably told him

➜it’s probably gonna be a forever relationship if not he won’t ever date again he’s the type to say ‘there’s only one person for me’ or when he’s older one of his brothers will have a picture of you two and post it on tt w ‘This was our brother and his bf (your name /last name) find him for us !! And reunite you guys of something 😭

THE END

———————————————

NSFW will be next ✨

[saltylandland]

I want to draw this but idk how to draw nsfw plus, busy, so here is a list of ideas, also I’ve been following @weebsinstash for awhile and I just think you’d be into this :)

Your dearest friend (and co worker) confesses that she’s the main heroine of this world, she got randomly sent here from her world, in her world this place is a romance game. She says regardless of if you believed her she was telling you the truth and-

You nodded yes, and not because you were a loyal side character, but bc you knew. After her confession you get a flood of memories of a different world, and a detailed retailing of the world you’re in.

Your friend, though she is bland by design, she is radiant and an unforgettable presence, despite not being able to remember her face even after just facing her.

The story, about an emperor with a curse. The entire castle keeps the secret, all families have been working there since the empire was first founded. Cult like loyal to their (admittedly really competent) emperor

Your friend, what was her name again? No- that’s not the point. Her goal, the goal of the game, was to tame the emperor's curse by existing, something no one had ever been able to do.

Face multiple challenges like the jealous empress, make your way through the fanatical loyalists and get closer to the emperor. Rise from empress’s handmaiden, to imperial consort, to empress herself!

Your friend whispers to you that she can tame the beast that prowls though the castle at night, and that she’s going to soon.

(The emperor becomes extremely aggressive with sharp claws yada yada, unfortunately no monster fucking this time tho)

But when that night arrives, she fails. You find her corpse before anyone else does. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen, she was supposed too- her body was collected and buried and it was almost like she never existed. Not that she didn’t have family, but like a spell the mysterium of the heroine fades away seemingly with no impact, she was just another victim of the beast.

With a new sense of fear, and with new memories, no loyalty to this empire, you were hatching a plan to leave. The night you were scouting out a path, with the excuse of chores on the night shift, you run into the beast. He was supposed to be chained up?!?

you are tackled to the ground, the emperor is on top of you. Opening your eyes you see him nuzzling your neck, shallow breaths fanning across you. You panic, this was supposed to happen to your friend not you. You can predict it now, he’ll turn into like a lap dog how embarrassing-

RIIIIIIIIIIIP- suddenly he rips your bodice down the middle, exposing your breasts to the cold air.

————

You try to avoid it but he keeps hunting you down and mounting you.

One night you hide away in the deepest parts of the castle, since you had been searching for a place to hide all day (and the beast fucked you all night) you fall asleep

Waking up to a gentle rocking it takes you a minute to process that you were now under him taking his cock

—

Then on one of the nights he does it in front of servants and they tell the empress who then calls you into her office, reader who is already planning to leave is scared you’re gonna get executed

The empress tells you that this is your job now, using your body to ‘tame’ the emperor bc there has been no incidents otherwise

This is a complete 180 to the empress from the game. She also insists that the emperor cannot know that he’s fucking you every night, as he is a decent man and he’d feel guilty, and to prevent you from getting pregnant she will supply you with potions to prevent that. And there is no other choice (not said but heavily implied) Now you are being treated as the unofficial concubine which the empress seems to dote on, your official title is the empress’s handmaiden/confidant

It is later revealed to you as you unwillingly get closer to the empress that though she loves the emperor (they grew up together) she doesn’t really care for sex (either cuz she’s lesbian or just ace) and once she got pregnant with their heir, their sex life basically stopped, tho they didn’t have an actual conversation, the emperor could tell she wasn’t into it and didn’t push her

Bonus points if she’s telling you about what a good man/husband he is for not pushing her/making her take care of his needs like that while he rearranges your guts.

Later later you find out that the emperor realized what was going on, but since it prevented him from hurting anyone he went along with it. And now since you’re so close to the empress, both of them start to fall and become yandere and now you have the most powerful couple who want you for themselves ❤️

Also, quick idea for an ending, he starts regaining control of himself as basically his and the beast’s goals become the same, and he starts loving on the reader even before nightfall and so the two personalities begin to blend and he’s cured! How wonderful! But now you’re the official concubine congrats! What? You don’t want it? Too bad! They want you! Also good luck making it out of the castle as everyone their views you as the emperor’s saviour.

[dadsbongos]

Hi! I was wondering if u write fic requests on minor characters? Holm from Dungeon Meshi is my fave character and it's saddening that there are only a few contents about him T^T (tho its understandable since he's, well, a minor character)

If it's okay w you, I wanna request a Holm x reader scenario where Holm introduces reader to his party as his partner, and everyone is suprised because they didn't expect a laid-back guy like him to be in a serious relationship with someone!

aaaa sorry if it's a bit short and bland I just want some fluffy imagines with the cute lil gnome ;-;

as long as i feel confident enough in my characterization of a character i'm more than happy to tackle minor characters!

holm is a lil cutie patootie so i get it anon

586 words / warnings - not super proofread ~~~

“Congratulations, big guy!” Mickbell claps Holm on the back, earning a startled flinch from the gnome.

“Thank you…” Holm sighs, choosing to ignore the rough jostling, “So as I saying, I finally bought a house. I’d really appreciate it if you all could come to dinner to celebrate.”

Daya scratches the back of her neck, lips pursing thoughtfully, “Can I bring my fiance?”

“Sure! It’ll be a great time for you all to finally meet my spouse as well.”

Kabru is first to respond, a despondent, broken, “wh-what…?” croaking out.

“You’re married?” Rin mutters, covering her twitchy mouth with a gloved hand and brows furrowing. If none of them knew her, they might think she was disgusted by the information.

Holm nods, “I never found the right time to bring it up, but now is perfect!”

“Married…” Kabru’s horrified, he had zero idea Holm was a taken man -- and he’d been meeting with the gnome’s sister often! Did she have no clue either? They weren’t the closest siblings, after all…

“See you all for dinner then?” Holm bypasses the man’s internal struggle completely.

Rin, still with elation masked as indignation, nods rapidly, “We’ll be there!”

… 

“Married,” Kabru’s still pouting by the time he and Rin arrive at Holm’s new residence, “And I had no clue…”

“He hardly minds,” Rin rolls her eyes, a kinder lilt overtaking her tone, “Besides, nobody else knew.”

Sighing wistfully, Kabru doesn’t expect her to understand, only continuing to mope.

“You’re probably the only one who brought a gift, so at least take that as a win,” Rin grumbles, annoyed by his angst, and knocks on the door.

Holm is not who greets them at the door, but rather a total stranger who already knows their names, “You must be Rin and Kabru! Welcome in, I’m glad you both could make it!”

Kabru’s terror only increases at the realization you know him by description, and he cannot even guess as to what your name is.

“I should die…” he whispers.

“Huh?” your eyes widen.

“Kabru! Rin!” Holm saddles up beside you, a hand finding the base of your spine while the other outstretches to accept his leader’s cradled gift, “You didn’t have to bring anything!”

“I would’ve felt terrible,” Kabru shakes his head, smile soft yet disarming.

You take it that you must’ve just misheard the nice man, then…

“You know,” Mickbell calls from where he’s lounging in Kuro’s lap on your couch, “I never would’ve taken you as the type for a serious relationship.”

Daya has half a mind to whack the man, and she probably would have if her own fiance hadn’t barked a laugh in approval. Instead, she swats him in the chest with a quiet grumble to be nice.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” if it weren’t for his gentle face, one could take the question as offended.

“You’re too laid-back…” Kuro huffs agreement to Mickbell’s point, “I would’ve thought a married man is more intense.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” Holm thankfully takes the jab with humor, “I’m seventy-six, not forty.”

“Imagine if you were?” you laugh.

“Nightmare, I’d be about you,” Holm chuckles.

“Oh, but it’d be flattering!”

“I was too immature.”

Mickbell scoffs, “Stupid long-living gnome and his stupid happy marriage.”

This time, Daya does smack the half-foot.

Meanwhile, Kabru is viciously examining yours and Holm’s body language and Rin is trying to psychically tell him to be normal.

“Your party’s very interesting…” you murmur to your husband.

“They’re just excited to be here.”

[b4tasquad]

✭ HANDSY: NIKO OMILANA

Authors note: the lack of beta squad related stuff on here makes me sick every time i open this app. therefor i’ve made it my mission to not only revive the beta squad # but also find others that love them as much as i do. please hmu if you like them, i beg 🙏

Warnings: eh nothing really. just language, lmk tho.

…

“I still don’t get why we couldn’t have someone else in her place.” Niko stares intently on the flat screen facing him, eyes set on you getting placed in position in the other room.

When the YouTuber got told that they’d be filming a blind date video like this, he was excited. Not only would he see two people spend a long amount of time with a complete stranger, but he’d laugh and joke about it while getting paid. It was a win- win situation. What he hadn’t seen coming was the special guest on today’s episode being you, his girlfriend.

Now, he had to watch guys try to flirt and win you over, and had to fake being happy about it too.

“The people wanted her.” Kenny shrugs from his seat next to him on the comfortable sofa, eyes on his phone but still knowing who his best friend was talking about. He was referring to the post they made on their official account, asking people to comment who they wanted featured more in videos. Majority of the comments asked for you, another famous influencer in the Uk, who had been spotted around the guys before.

“My girlfriend, really?” He still feels uneasy. Not in a million years would he think you would ever leave him for another guy, but ideas that the internet would start shipping you with someone else were entering his head. It made him feel sick.

“That’s what you get for having a secret relationship.” AJ replies making the rest of them break out into mocking laughter. The group knows the internet would break your relationship into bits, overanalysing and picking on everything but they still found humour in how mad their friend seemed to be at the thought of his girl being on fake dates

“So funny.” The tall boy rolles his eyes. When AJ, Chunkz and Sharky sat behind him doesn’t stop laughing, he makes a move to hit every single one of them. “Shut up.”

Fortunately, they’re told to get into position, making them ultimately shut up. The camera got set up and the person behind them giving them a signal to start.

“Today we have a special guest!” Kenny introduces.

“It’s me.” You speak flatly, hearing his words through the mic in your ear. “I’m the special guest.”

You can hear the guys groan hating the lack of happiness in your voice. Keeping up his role and hiding the fact that you were in a committed relationship, he clears his throat. “You gotta be more enthusiastic than that. You’re on beta squad, we’re giving you a chance to make a name for yourself.”

If you hadn’t been on camera, you would threaten to break up with Niko, but since you were you tried a different approach. “You’re almost speaking like I don’t have more followers than you. Bitch I’m making your career.”

“A round of applause.” Sharky tells at your bite back, and Niko side eyes him knowing of the small crush he had on you. It wasn’t hard to tell really, the guy took your side on literally anything and smiled stupidly at the things you said.

“Niko could you zip it, we’re paying her for the minute don’t drag it out.” You can’t help but laugh in your seat at Chunkz’ words, nodding in approval at his humour.

“Anyways.” You continue, eyes set on the camera as you cross your legs. “Let’s get into the video.”

The boys introduce the idea for the video and that’s when you remember this is the first time they’ve done it on their channel. Basically, you’re going to be going on an arranged date with a guy, and the group have certain stages you had to go through to help you find ‘your perfect match’.

As Kenny concludes the whole thing, you can’t help but roll your eyes and sigh. “ I’m not even looking for a guy. I’m all good.” You tell, a little smile on your face as you think of your lover. As if catching on to it, Niko also stupidly smiles in his seat, feeling much better about it now.

“Contestant one.” They call out and the next second, a blonde walks into the little setup. From across the table you thin your lips a little as you look over him.

“She hates him!” Chunkz cackles, pointing at the scene on the screen. “Did y’all see that little lip thing? This gyal is crazy for that one.”

Niko grins to himself.

“Hey.” The guy greets, and to be polite you get up and hug him, muttering pleasantries. You’re going for a friendly and comfortable hug, your arms loosely wrapping around his middle. The guy on the other hand tightened his hold on your waist, hands creeping down.

“Hell no.” You push away, a disgusted laugh rippling out of you at this actions. “D’you not have shame? Mans tried to grab my bunda before introducing himself. Get him out. Can I vote people out?”

The four other members, slowly look towards Niko, watching almost fearfully as he gets up from his seat, not caring wether the camera was still on. He wasn’t thinking logically, only feeling anger as someone got handsy with his girl. You’re laughing at the guy, not even giving him a chance to explain himself when Niko storms in, eyes set on the unknown guy.

“You, get the fuck out.” He points towards the exit. Behind him, the rest of the guys run after him, calling for their friend to stop.

“Niko, chill.” Sharky tells him, coming up to him and stopping him from doing something stupid. You’ve completely frozen near the table, never seen your boyfriend so mad.

“I’m not going to stop, what the fuck? This lad is proper mad, trynna grab her.” At his words you finally snap out of your shock.

“Let it go.” You plead with him, coming to stand besides him. Still wary of the countless eyes of contestants and others, you make a note to not touch him and plead with your eyes instead.

He silently nods, but he’s not done. “He’s out. Or me and y/n aren’t doing the video.” To someone who only know you two as influencers, they must think Niko is crazy. Not only raging, but threatening to leave the video for a girl he didn’t know that well must’ve seemed crazy.

“Why are you so mad?” The guy who minutes before tried to touch you questions, standing a good distance away from you guys.

“Don’t fucking speak, you little shit.” You tell him, sick of him. Because of him, your boyfriend not only got uncharacteristically mad, but the guy you didn’t know had managed to make the whole thing weird.

It wasn’t a question for the rest of the beta squad, without even a second of thinking they got the guy removed of set, him cussing him out as they do so.

“You good? Can we continue?” AJ asks, his question directed to the two of you. Niko’s chest was heaving, and with the lack of eyes on you now, you take a hold of his hand, kissing the back. It seems to relax him a great deal.

He nods. “Yeah.” Letting go of your hand, he leans down to hug you close to him, secretly kissing your covered neck, whispering a little “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay baby.” You tell him, nodding to give him even more reassurance. “Don’t worry about these guys, I don’t want anyone but you. This is just a video.”

Even though he doesn’t seem completely content with the idea of it, he seems to feel much lighter than a few minutes ago. Now, seemingly in the joking mood again, he huffs a laugh. “I should’ve smoked his jaw.”

Kenny is the first one to break as he hears the words, imagining Niko in a fight. After that, the rest of the guys fall into heavy laughter, and you can’t help but let out small giggles yourself at the thought of your funny and problem solving boyfriend getting into a physical fight.

As if you’ve betrayed him, he looks at you with widened eyes and an open mouth, before addressing his friends behind you. “Stop laughing!”

They laugh even more at that.

[noodlewritez]

Autumn hair

pairings: Carl Grimes X GN!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, overall just fluff, kinda cringe

@slaughterlils666 Request: hey!! I just saw ur fluff post of Carl and the hair braiding gave me an idea about hair and stuff (also I’m naturally ginger and my friends do this).

Could you make like a fluff where Carl’s gf is ginger and he likes to make stupid but adorable comments or jokes about her hair and stuff (calling her his little leprechaun, lucky charm, stuff like that) and purposely acts all corny about it just to see her reaction to it?

A/N: This is so cute STAWP!🙈/pos I feel like I didn't do this one justice tho, lmk! also Fam was this good or nah bc i feel like this is sooo baddd

You and Carl had been dating a little over 3 months when you both started feeling more comfortable with each other, playfully shoving, insulting and rough housing with each other.

Before you were dating, you were best friends who always joked like that but with a new relationship, you both wanted to be careful with what you said as a new couple. And that’s when the jokes started. You swear, it never ended, the endless playful teasing.

You could be out on a run and you’d hear him-

“Hey, leprechaun, should we-"

“Goddamit, Carl!” You cut him off and boo him. “That one wasn’t even bad” He defended himself. You snorted and giggled, “You sound like my dad, it was that bad!”

Or you’d be in bed, relaxing with him as he strokes your glowing hair and he’d be talking casually with his sleepy, raspy voice. “I might run out to that comic store we found…has a lot of cool comics, I think you’d like it, lucky charm...”

You groan and turn over and he starts bursting out laughing and saying he's sorry as he’s laughing and you're burying your face into one of his pillows.

It even catches you off guard when he’s kissing you, his hand on the base of your neck and his lip trail a little bit further down your jawline, nipping at it and saying “Fuck, you’re beautiful, red.” and boy, does it turn you red.

Overall though, under all that playful teasing, he fucking adores your hair and will play with it while you lay in his bed together. He'll comment about how beautiful it looks in the sun and how it adds to your glow. And you love that he calls you those teasing names, what would you do without them?

[damn-stark]

Chapter 4 Snow on the beach

Chapter 4 of Moonlight

A/N- last full Cregan chapter, now onto Aemond, let’s see if he can beat Lord Stark

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, FLUFF!, Talks of blood and death, suggestive nfsw, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader, Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- Before 1x08

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*127 AC*

“…we’re hoping for a girl, so if the gods are generous you will have that sister you always wanted, wouldn’t that be great?

Daemon also hopes for the babe to be a girl. He said maybe you could choose a name, would you like that? I think it’s a marvelous idea, please write your ideas.”

A girl? Your mother is hoping for a girl again?

Maybe it’s because you’re far away from her and you haven't seen her in four years, but the idea of her having another daughter besides you makes you feel bitter with jealousy.

Is that cruel to feel?

“Anyway, I’m glad you have made friends with Lady Arra, I hate the thought of you being alone so far away. Tell me is she kind? It’s okay to admit if she’s rude and a bitch—”

You snicker softly at your mother's words regardless of your previous feelings.

“—it’ll stay between us. But if you don’t feel comfortable telling your mother then tell your cousins or your brothers. They won’t tell, trust me, Jacaerys never wants to show me what you write to each other now, but, it makes me glad that you share a bond regardless of distance. I know he misses you as I do, my Sweet.

I love you so much.

Love always, your mother, Rhaenyra.”

You put the letter down on the desk and simply smile softly. You don’t cry anymore when you read her letters.

The first two years that's all you could do, cry as you read what your mother, grandmother, brothers, and even what your cousins wrote. You just longed to be by their side again, you missed them terribly. But when your rendezvous with Cregan changed to secret forbidden romantic nights, you stopped crying at night and when you read the letters from home.

Now albeit you feel like starting crying again. Is it stupid to feel jealous about her having another daughter? Is it foolish to feel like you’ll be replaced?

You’re so far away, and you’ll always be far away because of your marriage to Aemond, so having another daughter will cure that longing to have you with her. Having another daughter also means she’ll replace you because it’s a daughter shared with the man she’s in love with, not someone she married out of political gain, not someone who had different preferences. She’ll be the apple of your mother's eye, of their eye—

No! No, it’s stupid, you’re being stupid. Your mother loves you, she’ll never do such a terrible thing.

Albeit…before, when she was with Ser Harwin hoping for another girl you didn't fill you with jealousy then because at least you had your father; he wasn’t always available, but he was there, he loved you too. He’s gone now though, so if she does replace you you’ll have no one.

——

*4 FEW YEARS BACK*

“All right, now…” he trails off and glances around the ship, you follow his line of gaze to see what he’d point to, but he then turns around and points at something else completely. “…that. What do we call that and what’s its use?”

You squint your eyes on the large spar that extends forward from the ship's vessel prow and think back to what he and Ser Qarl have taught you whilst on your way to Dragonstone.

Out of all the things you’ve learned, it takes time to come up with the answer right away, but it then comes to mind. “It’s the bowsprit!” You clap with excitement. “And it prevents the ship from…uh, being submerged in water when the waters are rough!”

“Yes!” Your father exclaims. “Yes! Good job.”

You skip forward and then speak to Ser Qarl. “I’ve thought of a scenario, all right, Ser Qarl.”

Said man leans his arm against a barrel and scoffs in amusement before he softly throws his chin up to gesture you to share what he asked of you a while ago. Something you thought of with a lot of precaution.

“I’m on deck, and then whoa, I get attacked,” you tell him as you clasp your hands back and walk towards the quarter-deck. “Pirates are coming on the ship, my crew is getting hurt, so then I run forward, use my blade to cut the main yard, and swing across the deck to save them, and myself.” You finish proudly and spin around to face both men with a smile. “Huh? Is that good?”

Ser Qarl and your father share a glance and break into a chuckle, making your smile falter. They think it’s stupid, don’t they?

You knew it! It’s too dramatic and childish.

“That’s…” your father clears his throat and walks over to you to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “That’s a great plan, darling, well thought out.”

You look up at him with uncertainty and probe. “Really?”

He shoots you a grin and nods. “Yes, really.”

“You’ll make a fine sailor,” Ser Qarl compliments. “Probably one better than your father.”

You're quick to please so once again you can’t help but bring back your smile to your features.

“Yes,” your father agrees. “You will. You’ll make a legendary sailor.”

——

*NOW*

“See! That’s how you do it!” Cregan exclaims and flashes a smile as he admires how the arrow impales exactly at the center of the makeshift target. “Let’s see you best that.”

What if he wants to replace you, Prince Daemon?

He has daughters, but those are his own, what if for some reason he just wants to replace you?

Cregan calls your name, but you don't answer or look his way. Instead, you stay lost in your mind and think that it’s unbelievable that your mother would want to replace you. She loves you, all of you, in fact, she was often advised that she not be so affectionate towards any of you, especially towards your brothers, so she wouldn’t just replace you.

No?

Cregan calls for you again and this time touches your shoulder, snapping you from your messy thoughts raveld in your brain.

“Yes?” You query and meet his curious grey eyes.

Cregan blinks and then points at the target with his eyes. “It’s your turn darling,” he says and quickly looks back at you to study you.

Albeit before he catches anything, you pick up your bow and an arrow to then go stand where Cregan was. You exhale softly to try and forget what you were thinking of while you shift your feet and lift your arms. You get the arrow in position and get ready to shoot it, but hands then fall on your arms, making your breath catch and your gaze drift to the corner of your eyes to look at Cregan behind you.

“Relax your bow arm,” he advises softly as he holds your gaze the entire time.

You can’t help but smile and stare at his lips.

“You did hear me?” He asks.

You relax your bow arm like he said and nod.

“Just making sure. You’re not looking at me in the eyes,” he teases.

You laugh softly and slowly meet his gaze with a playful smirk. He snickers and then steals a quick peck from your lips before he stands back.

You flash him a giddy grin before you look back at the makeshift target and draw out a soft exhale again before letting the arrow fly.

Albeit the arrow whizzes past the target clung onto a thin tree.

“I see,” Cregan stifles his laugh and crosses his arms over his chest. “That was terrible.”

You sigh and lower your arm to stand back without meeting his gaze—your mind is just too lost.

“Your teacher must not be so good, you missed the target. You’re usually good,” he continues to tease.

You drop your arms and huff. “The tree is too thin,” you throw out the first complaint that comes to mind.

“The target isn’t the problem,” Cregan points out honestly. “When we go hunting the prey is moving. At battle, the target is moving as well. This. this is easy.”

“I won’t use a bow and arrow,” you remark and briefly meet his gaze. “I’ll have a sword in battle, and Astraea.”

Since you glance up as if you could see Astraea overhead you miss the way Cregan watches you and sees right through your troubled mind right away.

“The target isn’t the problem,” he repeats and leans his equipment against the tree behind him to approach you. “What’s wrong? What troubles you?” He asks softly and takes the stuff from your hands to put it by his.

You know you’ll sound like a total whiner, a spoiled brat most likely. He’s more humble than most of the people at Kings Landing, so he probably won’t agree, but all these thoughts are overflowing your mind and they’re beginning to drown you, you can’t hold back anymore. Besides he is your best friend, and your…paramour? Partner?

No that sounds too official, you aren’t. Paramour sounds right—he’s your secret paramour. He should know what troubles you.

“It’s,” you begin to share and sigh deeply. “It’s my mother. She’s with child again.”

He hums and just like you predicted he responds nicely which contradicts your frown and gleaming eyes. “That’s great news, I’m happy for you….” He trails off as he notices your reaction and backtracks. “Is it not great news?”

You mindlessly grab the pendant your grandmother had given you and mutter. “They’re hoping for a girl, again. Aegon came out as a boy so they’re hoping for a girl this time…to replace me.”

Cregan sighs and shakes his head as he looks at you as if you’re mad. “What? Darling, why would you think that?”

Tears fall out of your eyes as you’re overwhelmed with sorrow you can’t surpass. “Because,” your voice quivers. You can’t even look at Cregan in the eyes or else you’ll just feel a worse anguish in your heart. “Unlike Aegon and this new baby, they’ll have soon, I wasn’t made out of love. My parents had a duty to commit, not Prince Daemon and my mother. They love each other, their kids are made out of love. She wants to replace me with a daughter she wasn’t forced to have. A different daughter that…” you trail off and shake your head whilst you wipe the tears that manage to break out. “…that’s not like me.”

Cregan sighs softly and closes the gap between the two of you with an embrace. “Oh my darling girl,” he says as he begins to caress your back. “That’s the most maddest thing I’ve heard.”

Now that you’re in his embrace, as his comforting smell filters into your nose you can no longer hold back your tears, you cry softly as you hug him.

“I may not know your mother, but from what you’ve told me, it seems she loves you,” he assures you. “She’d never replace you. Never. Who would replace a woman like you?” He asks and pulls back to cup your cheeks. “It’s like if you had a daughter already, wouldn't you want another if the gods were generous enough?”

Well, when he puts it that way.

“I suppose I would,” you whisper.

Cregan offers you a faint smile and nods. “See? You just miss your mother, that’s all. Besides you’re her eldest, you’re special to her, you always will be no matter who comes along.” He assures you while he wipes your tears away before he leans in and presses a gentle kiss on your lips and on your forehead.

“You’ll always be my favorite girl regardless.” he finishes saying to lift your spirits.

And you can't help it, you slowly begin to smile before you steal a lingering kiss that he takes over and deepens. When you pull back you lean your forehead against his and wipe his lips with your thumb.

“Thank you, Cregan,” you whisper with your heart beginning to race as words just run up your throat. “I don’t know how I’d survive being so far away without you.”

The corner of his lips tug to a soft smile. “I’m the one that should be thankful,” he whispers against your lips. “The gods put you in my life and saved me from this loneliness I was bestowed with.”

Your entire face burns and you can’t help but flash him a blissful beaming grin before slamming your lips against his. Right away Cregan slides his hands to the sides of your head and begins to push you back against the tree, whilst your hands travel to the back of his neck, and your nails dig into his skin.

Driven by passion Cregan then begins to slide his hands down, letting them linger on your breasts before he tears open the top part of your dress, making you gasp. Yet your disbelief is short-lived because you then give in and unbuckle his shirt.

Albeit, soon thereafter he forces himself away and lets his head hang low as if suddenly troubled. You try to ease his stress by grabbing his face and reaching for more but he stops you. “Who would I be if I made you mine?” He mumbles between pants. “I can’t.”

Your smile softens as you're quick to reassure him. “You won’t dishonor yourself or me because I love you.”

Cregan holds your gaze in disbelief but can’t help his smile from spreading on his face. “We said we wouldn't fall in love.” He reminds you of your ultimatum.

You sigh. “I couldn’t resist myself, not when you’re the very breath in my lungs. Without you, I can’t breathe.”

It might be foolish to say, no it is stupid since you won’t marry, but it’s a truth you can’t hide. Not from him, not when he’s driven you too madly in love. And especially not when he grins so tenderly for you.

“If that’s so then I can finally relieve myself of this weight I’ve been carrying for too long and say that I love you too,” he confesses with a sense of relief as if he had been forced to hold it all back.

And you knew it’s a bad idea, you told yourself you wouldn’t give in to such passionate temptations, but you’re a woman pushed away from the mother who could teach her the reality, you remember her loving passionately and freely and you can’t help but live by those terms and smile at the man before you before you feed your forbidden passion by stealing a kiss.

“Give me the privilege of giving me your maidenhead then,” he whispers against your lips and steals the very breath from your lungs—“give me the privilege of being mine. Only mine.”

You meet his gaze and never think about Aemond, he doesn’t cross your mind when you’re with Cregan. He should be the very thing that stops you, but he's left you alone, so neither you nor Cregan think of the consequences of what could happen, you’re too driven by lust, passion, and by love.

“As long as you are mine,” you whisper impatiently as you pull his shirt off.

Cregan smirks and nods. “From this day until the end of my days,” he whispers happily against your lips as he holds your gaze and nothing else.

——

*A FEW MONTHS LATER*

“You know when I was a little girl I used to be scared of the North,” you tell Cregan while you admire a flame dancing on a candle on your end table.

“Why’s that?” He asks with some amusement playing in his tone.

You snicker and peer back at him with a smirk. “The servants' children said that giant spiders roamed the snowy lands and that northern men were big, brutish, and stole women from the homes of their husbands.”

Cregan pulls his hand away from your bare hip and you can practically hear those dark eyebrows furrow while those pink pouted lips only crease to a frown.

When you churn your head you’re proven right when you see him looking at you with a pointed look. “They say that?” He presses as if those people had personally offended him.

Your smirks turns to a teasing smile and you nod. “A lot of people like to make up reality when they don’t know it.”

Cregan grumbles and turns to lie on his back and look at the canopy overhead. You ache for more of his gentle but rough fingers so you turn and tangle your legs with his while you place your hand on his chest.

“Did you ever imagine you’d love a brutish man?” Cregan asks and almost sounds deeply serious.

You snicker and tease him. “Do I? Or did this man take me from my quarters and make me his?”

Cregan blinks and turns his head down with a smile he can’t help but flash at you. “Maybe it’s you who has cast a spell on me. I heard that the Valyrians were blood sorcerers.”

You giggle and sigh longingly. “I wish I could do such a thing, but the practice is forbidden and lost in your family, unfortunately. My natural beauty is the only thing that took you under a spell.”

Cregan blesses your ears with a hearty chuckle before he flips swiftly and captures you under him. You bite your cheeks to not yelp out of excitement and alert a servant or a guard.

“That is indeed true,” he flatters you and leans down to capture your lips in his. “You have a bewitching beauty.”

You grin and hook your arms around his neck to keep him close. “Oh, I like that.” You coo. “It makes me sound frightening.”

He hums and averts his gaze before interjecting. “No not bewitching then. Enchanting.”

Your smile softens and you can’t help but look at him softly as if he had just made you fall in love with his words alone.

“Tell me,” he continues to fill the comforting silence. “What else did you think of when you were young? More fake stories about northern men?”

You chuckle softly and shake your head. “Well,” you part your lips and sigh deeply as you think back to several years worth of thoughts, casting a long silence.

Cregan doesn’t mind the silence though, he liked to watch you in the silence like an admirer watches art they find fascinating; he never could get enough of the beauty before him. He even liked to admire you while you parted your lips.

“Without getting too depressing—”

Yet you don’t get to finish because the door handle suddenly clicks before the door bursts open, leaving you no time to attempt to hide, only leaving a second for Cregan to flip himself off you.

Nevertheless, the intruder happens to be Arra, Cregan’s wife, and your closest friend.

It turns out that Arra didn’t turn out to be the concern you worried she’d be, unexpectedly she turned out to be a good friend even if you do love her husband. Sure it took time to become friends mostly because you pushed away the possibility out of your fear that she hated you, but she doesn’t.

It also turns out that her preferences are different, she enjoys the company of women, mainly that of her handmaiden. She just put on an act that day Cregan became Lord to fool the masses. Which is a relief, you probably wouldn't be able to handle the guilt if she actually loved him.

“Arra,” Cregan hisses and pulls the furs over you to cover up your bare chest.

“Forgive me,” she mutters as she quickly closes the door behind her before she waltzs in and throws herself next to you on the bed. “I grew bored listening to all the maester had to tell me so I pretended I needed to talk to my husband.”

One would think you would be appalled that she’s lying next to Cregan and you with nothing on but the furs keeping you warm, but, well in your time together, as you’ve grown closer it’s just something you do and don’t question. For one, Arra says she finds no romantic interest in Cregan, and he’s her husband under the old gods, secondly, she jokes that she’s basically married to you too because of how much Cregan loves you, so it’s just like partners being in bed with one another; arra says.

As for Cregan and you, well, you’ve grown accustomed to it, and to keep up appearances you’ve chosen to find a taste for it.

“It’s one of the dreading days isn’t it?” You query Arra knowingly. “That’s why I pretend Astraea needs tending to. They don’t bother me when I say I’m with her.”

Arra rolls her eyes and Cregan frowns at the canopy—“I really detest that I have to suffer through the Maesters dreadful lectures without you. You’re my ward, you're meant to suffer with me.”

You snicker. “I suffered through enough of them with the previous Lady, and I will have to suffer through worse lectures in Kings Landing, I’m taking advantage of your kindness.”

Arra snaps her head to you, and you meet her gaze and you both break into laughter.

“You know we were in a conversation,” Cregan cuts in quite annoyed that your precious moments were so rudely interrupted.

You don’t mind Arra barging and find it as an excuse to see Cregan later so you drag her in your conversation. “He asked me what I would think about when I was young.”

Arra hums curiously and fixes herself to get comfortable, much to Cregan’s protest.

“Well,” you finally share your long-awaited response. “When my head wasn't literally in the clouds or fantasizing about my desires, I would often think about my future. Who I would marry, where I would go, what would happen to me, and who I wanted to be.”

A silence lingers where both Arra and Cregan think about what you said and why someone young would have to think about something so serious so early on. They both grew curious about who it is you wanted to be before a future was chosen for you, but Cregan beats Arra to the question.

“Who is that you wanted to be?”

You sigh dreamily and rest your head on his shoulder first before you tell the tale you were forced to leave behind along with your childhood. “Besides wanting to be a sailor, or an explorer, or a singer, I wanted to be Queen, a kind one like great, great grandmother Queen Alyssane, and my ancestor Queen Rhaenys.”

“Queen?” Arra probes between a joke and a serious demeanor.

You nod softly. “I was the eldest, I thought it was my right, but well…” you trail off and leave it untouched because they know why your dreams weren’t granted. Albeit you do defend yourself. “Not that I resent my brother, I never have, I kept dreaming after that dream was crushed.” You smile softly and that assures Cregan that he can poke at you now.

“What is it you wanted after that? To be a pirate? Isn’t that something you asked to be?”

You laugh and nod against his chest, letting him wrap his arm around your head to press you against him. “Yes well, besides that I dreamt of things I could never be, things I no longer crave because…my feet around on the ground now, and because when I think about tomorrow I see the people I love beside me.”

Another silence follows and this time it’s not so tense, it’s comforting and full of sweet bliss. Arra breaks it and what she shares doesn’t bring tension. “I was in crisis when I was young because I learned I fancied women, and then I hated the fact that I would have to marry a man.”

“I wanted to meet a giant that I thought lived far north,” Cregan shares and right away Arra and you share a knowing look because compared to Arra and you, that was such a sweet and weightless response. He doesn’t seem to understand what his response meant though, so when Arra and you start laughing he’s just left puzzled.

“What is it? I’m being serious, aren’t you?”

——

*128 AC*

Screams fill the room while the sour metallic smell of blood begins to filter the room.

“Come on my Lady push! The babe is almost out!” The midwife instructs Arra.

Albeit Arra throws her head back and shakes her head. “I can’t,” she cries out shakily. “I can’t! It hurts! Please don’t make me go on, please,” she begs with streams of tears mixing with the thick beads of sweat that bathe her face.

“Arra,” you mumble and lean over to grab her jaw and tilt her head to the side so she can meet your gaze. “Arra, I know it hurts, I know, but you have to keep going for your babe. If you don’t then they’ll die,” you share the harsh truth so she can get inspired. “The pain is almost over. I promise.”

Seeing and hearing her in pain is something you don’t want to witness, you know the possibility of her outcome and it frightens you; not for selfish reasons, but rather because she’s your friend, your best friend and you know how cruel childbirth can be and she doesn’t deserve to suffer.

You want to be back to when it was just Cregan, you, and her, simple and serene times. Days when you’d sit under the old weirwood tree with her, and her lady paramour, Genevieve, and sing a sweet song to the babe still growing in her belly.

“Something,” she stammers as she holds your gaze. “Something feels wrong.”

You look up to meet the gaze of her handmaiden and lover and mirror a concerned look before you look at the abnormal amount of blood that is pooling around her.

“We won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Genevieve assures her even if you’re both starting to know the cruel truth.

“Promise,” she continues to say in a way that doesn’t involve the others but doesn’t give away that her words are coming solely from her own aching heart.

“Push, my Lady, push!” They instruct again, and she listens, she puts as much effort as she can into delivering the babe that Cregan and her managed to make. However, she loses too much blood as the babe struggles to come out of her.

Arra doesn't even get to meet her son, she took her last breath as he cried for the first time, and your own heart wept at the realization.

But how does that compare to when you tell Cregan?

He didn’t love her, it’s true, but he did care for her. She was his best friend since childhood, a close confidant, and his wife. He’ll be so heartbroken and you dread seeing more of his sorrow, he was already so distressed when she began to bleed more than normal. He had to leave the room at that moment—Which in turn becomes an issue though because now no one can find him.

Albeit, you know where he is. It’s obvious too. It’s the only place he can think of going to at such a desperate moment. The Godswood.

“Cregan,” you call out as you see him sitting on a tree trunk by the red-leafed Heart tree.

Said man looks up with gleaming eyes. You don't hesitate to approach him and crouch down in front of him. “It’s a boy,” you share with a faint smile but with melancholy, he doesn't miss but ignores, Cregan actually smiles at the ground and murmurs.

“Rickon.”

You take his hands in yours and lose your smile as the dread of sharing the news begins to choke you, threatening you not to speak. Albeit he looks up at you and sees right through you again; he sees the tears stains on your cheeks, and the new tears that begin to form, and he knows he can no longer ignore the truth.

“No,” he mutters and shakes his head. “No, it cannot be true.”

You sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Cregan drops his head to hide his sorrow from you. After all these years he still hides his anguish, but now he doesn’t put on a brave face and then hides away in his chambers, now he lets you see his vulnerability. He lets you comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat and begin to caress his back. “I’m sorry.”

Cregan drops his head on your shoulder, letting you slide your hands around his neck so you can gently caress him and accompany him in his grief. You wish you could stay like that for a while longer, but you can't be caught being so affectionate so when the others found him you could go on pretending.

You learned to get better at pretending. In the first year of your secret relationship, you were almost caught doing things friends shouldn't do too many times, luckily it didn’t happen and a scandal didn’t spread…all because of Arra, she offered her aide then, she taught you how to be very discreet. Well, you were sneaky before, but you would get caught before, and because of her you didn’t and won’t. She helped you a lot and now she's gone with nothing left to her but her bones, and baby Rickon.

However, how can a child stop your departure? You had made the excuse when the five years were up that you wanted to wait for Arra to give birth, and the Queen granted it, but now?

Now Arra’s gone and the babe is here, meaning you will leave soon. You’ll leave Cregan...

That's what hurts too, knowing that with Arra’s death, your time here has also come to an end. You’ll have to leave and face…Aemond.

Seven hells.

You exhale deeply and fall on your bed now that you are in your semi-sheer white nightgown. All the walls that surround you that you once thought dull and bland, and the ceiling above you that you hated looking at when you first got here will soon change for you. This freedom you have here will soon change to a never-ending pester. And the people are somewhat nice, they're certainly a lot nicer now than they were the first year, they’re not racist anymore, but soon you’ll be surrounded by creeps like…Aegon.

Albeit creeps like him exist even here at Winterfell so that won’t change that much—The silence at night though, that will change and you’ll miss it too…

“Damn,” you grumble. “Maybe they should catch us together. It’ll be a bit of a scandal, but what of it?” You groan and sit up to push yourself off the end of your bed and walk to your balcony.

Perhaps the coldness is the one thing you won’t miss, but the silence? The tranquility? Cregan? You will miss him the most…

You sigh deeply again and fold your arms over the railing to rest your chin on your hands as you admire the empty street below. You let the silence linger for a moment before you begin to laugh quietly to yourself.

Once upon a time when you lived in Kings Landing, you’d look down at the streets below just past your window, and you'd see the calamity of everyday life and wish to be amongst it, now you’ve found peace here and wish to stay here in this castle amongst the tranquility. Have you grown, or have you forced yourself to make peace with your life?

You don’t know, so you sigh again and turn your head to the side, in that moment catching the rare blue winter rose in the corner of your railing.

A smile spreads on your lips and you rush over to pick it up, finding a small scroll around the stem. When you open it you see a small sentence; “meet me in my quarters.”

That’s bold of him, but you don’t argue, you’ve found ways to sneak to him. You use the same methods now with no hesitation and find yourself in his quarters, but find him looking out his own balcony. When you make sure no one is approaching you break your silence.

“Cregan?” You call out carefully, finding his still behavior odd.

Said man turns and you quickly add on. “Are you all right?”

The corner of his lips twitch to a slight smile. “Rickon is the most precious thing ever.” He begins to walk to you, and you don’t fail to head towards him as well—“You have to meet him.”

You smile. “I have. Albeit our meeting was cut short. He looks like you though.”

“You think?” He asks softly.

You nod as you meet right in the middle of his room. He takes no time to be sweet and grab your hands to wrap them with his warm ones.

“Baby Rickon makes me think of…our own children.” He makes your heart skip a beat before it begins to race. His words are absurd, you can’t be man and wife, but hearing him say those words makes it seem like a possibility.

“Hair white as snow, kind eyes like yours,” he says and cups your cheek. “Mighty children born of ice and fire.”

You can’t help but let your smile widen, and lose your mind in the impossible for a moment. You come down from that dream and face a truth he doesn’t want to see. However, instead of breaking his delusions, you let him dream because of his grief.

“How are you doing Cregan?” You ask and avoid the topic. “Be honest.”

Said man averts his gaze and lets your hands fall before he then wanders to the side of his bed to take a seat. “I,” he interjects but pauses and drops his head.

Now that racing heart you felt slows down and sinks as you see the anguish he was trying not to show. You approach him and sink down beside him on his bed.

“I feel as if I could have done more,” he reveals and looks up to meet your gaze, letting you see the tears that gleam over his eyes. “I know I didn’t love her as I possibly should have, but she was still my friend, and she died and I couldn’t stop it.”

You shake your head and press your hand on the side of his neck to caress him gently. “It wasn’t your fault,” you comfort him. “You did not do this. What happened to Arra unfortunately is normal. There was no preventing it. It was simply the Gods will. I’m sorry.”

Cregan swallows thickly and drifts his gaze away again, letting you press his head against your chest to be able to embrace him and keep him close to your heart.

“Now what you can do to honor her memory is be Rickon’s father,” you add quietly. “He’ll need you, Cregan.”

Cregan pulls away and faces you with tears rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t know how to be a father.”

“Who is?” You counter softly. “We don’t spend our lives training to be parents. You’ll struggle, everyone does, but you’ll know one step at a time as life moves on. Be the father yours was to you,” you try to assure him as you cup his jaw.

Cregan holds your gaze for a lingering minute, his lips part and his gaze softens. He doesn’t say anything for a moment that seems to go on for eternity, but then, just as you were growing insecure about what you said, he smiles before he steals a kiss from you.

“See,” he breaks his silence and grabs your cheeks. “This is why I love you. This is why you’d make a great Lady of Winterfell. Your kindness can melt the coldness that surrounds this land.”

You scoff softly and drop your eyes whilst you push his hands away and stand up off the bed. He lays down and watches you pace away.

“I’d also make a good Lady because I am stubborn, a good ruler needs that,” you play along, making him chuckle. However, you end your amusement fast and grow serious.

“But you truly can’t say that,” you mutter and grab the pillar of his bed to spin around and begin to walk to the other side. “You can’t say those things to me.” You remind him sharply.

“If I put a babe in your belly they’ll send you back to me,” he suddenly blurts, causing you to stop just as you reach the other side of the bed to stare at him in disbelief.

“You’ll have no choice but to be my wife and Lady,” he adds the fire, but regardless of the heat that basks your face you pretend to be bothered and grab a pillow off his bed to throw at him. Albeit Cregan catches it and snickers.

“My darling love,” he adds and then flips on his bed to crawl towards you. “Is that not your wish? Your greatest desire? I can put one in you now. Have you back with me in 60 days. ”

“Cregan,” you mumble and sigh with sadness knowing it’s not something that can happen. “You’d know what would happen if you did. Aemond would come after you, my family would too.”

Cregan sits up on his knees before he grabs your hand and suddenly yanks you towards him on the bed, making you yelp as you grab onto his shoulders.

“What?” He counters. “You don't think I can fight him?” He snickers and cups your face. “I’d do it. I’d fight every fucking man in this world if it meant making you my wife.”

It’s these words that only add to your ache about leaving, that only makes you swoon that much more for a man you can’t have.

“I have to—”

“Quiet,” he interrupts you and covers your mouth, making you let out a muffled scoff and twist your face to demonstrate your discontent. “Don’t say it,” he says, knowing that you were going to tell him you had to leave. “Just lay with me tonight.” He pulls his hand away from your mouth and pulls you down with him so you can lie right next to him on his bed.

You debate on dwelling on the matter, but if these are your last moments, then you want to appreciate them, so you don’t bring up your fate and just let him gently stroke your exposed back with his fingers. You snuggle against his warm chest and embrace him, you don’t think about anything but him in the comforting silence that blankets the two of you.

It’s stupid of you, but you love him.

——

*A COUPLE DAYS LATER*

Tonight is the last night you’ll ever spend together. Tonight is the last night you’ll see his beautiful face basked by the moon's soft light, tonight is the last night you’ll touch his lips, laugh, and hear his sweet voice pour in your ear like honey. Tonight is the last night you’ll be embraced by his warmth, it’s the last time you’ll have his smell filter in your nose, it’s the last time you'll hear him laugh, and see his smile painted on his features.

Tonight is the last night you can be lovers before you have to act as mere strangers passing through the night. And he’s making the most of it, acting as if nothing is going to happen. You try to act as clueless as him, but the thoughts keep coming back.

“Cregan,” you call out as he keeps walking deeper in the woods. “It’s far enough, and It’s cold, perhaps we should go to your quarters.”

Cregan peers back briefly and flashes you an assuring smile. “Not much further, just catch up.” He waves you over, forcing you to pick up your pace in the fresh snow that blankets the ground tonight. However, you come to a quick stop at the same time Cregan does when a wolf's howl breaks out from very close by; or at least that’s what it seems, maybe it’s your sudden fear that makes you hear it.

“Cregan,” you whisper sharply and approach quickly to clutch onto his arm. “Let’s go back to our usual spot, come on. These aren’t our grounds.” You look out to the depths of the woods to see if you’d find a pair of glowing eyes.

“These are my grounds,” Cregan corrects you and reaches for your hand. “Come let’s get closer.” He tugs you further, but you instantly yank him back.

“Are you mad?” You argue in panic and slight judgment. “There can be a pack of wolves out there.”

Cregan scoffs and grabs both of your hands to pull you towards him and counter. “And you have a dragon, don’t be frightened.”

“Astraea wouldn’t bite our faces off and shred us apart with her teeth,” you counter back louder. “The wolves will, and Astraea can only get here so fast.”

Cregan shoots you a smirk, just a simple smirk before he lets your hands fall to run ahead without you.

“Cregan?!” You shout as you stay put and watch as he reaches the top of the small hill before you lose his figure past some trees. “Cregan, don’t leave me alone!”

Seven hells!

Fucking man…

You squint your gaze and take a step forward, but don’t catch a glimpse of him. You just hear the sound of a wolf howling again, causing your heart to skip a beat before it starts to race as your fear heightens. “Cregan!” You call out for him again. “Don’t jest with me!”

You take another cautious step forward and stick your neck out, but still nothing.

Alas then, from the deafening silence, there’s a scream that comes from Cregan up ahead.

The wolf got him!

Rather than being hesitant, you pick up your dress's skirt and run where you saw him disappear to even if there’s a wolf close by.

“Cregan?!” You cry out desperately and proceed to come to a stop when you don’t see him or a wolf. “Cregan?!” You grab onto the tree and turn your head from side to side, however, it’s at that exact moment that hands slap against your shoulders and a quiet “boo,” is whispered in your ear, causing you to yelp and spin around hastily.

And there in the shadows is Cregan, his gray eyes reflecting his joy, while his smile shines just as bright as the stars and the moon before his evil laugh fills the silence.

“Why would you do that?!” You remark with anger before you try to shove him back. However, he catches your wrists in time.

Yet Cregan’s feet aren’t planted against the ground well, and the force you put behind your hit is strong, so he loses balance and falls backward, taking you along with him since he refuses to let go. When he hits the ground you scramble to get up, but the hill you fall on is steep, so you accidentally tumble and take him with you down the snow-covered hill.

He of course laughs the entire way down, but you find no amusement in what happened considering he had you worried sick.

“You are cruel,” you grumble the moment you stop rolling and fall on him. “You are a cruel man.”

You try to move to the side, but he grabs your hands and tugs you back down against him.

“It was only a jest, my love,” he coos and grabs your face. “I just wanted to see something.”

You shoot him a glare and shake your head. “What? How bad I can get a heart attack? I thought you got hurt.”

“And you came running, I’m honored,” he counters with a smirk before he pulls you in for a kiss. Albeit you pull away and smack his chest.

“It wasn’t funny, I was worried,” you mumble with a pout and turn your head away.

Cregan finds this more amusing so he lifts his head and tries to steal kisses from you, but you keep pushing him away and turning your head. When he finally has enough of you turning away he presses his hand against your back to flip you over with ease so he can be on top of you.

“Don’t be angry with me,” he whispers. “It’s funny, laugh.”

You hold his gaze and feign a laugh, causing him to roll his eyes.

“What is it you wanted to show me?” You ask and lift your arms to grab his biceps. “Maybe that will change my mood?”

Cregan smiles softly and caresses your cheek. “I’m more than content staying right here, I love the view.” He tries to prolong this moment with sweet words that work to make you swoon.

“Well,” you whisper reluctantly. “My view isn’t terrible either…but my ass is getting wet.”

Cregan feigns concern. “Really? Let me see.”

“Pft,” you blow out and slide your hands down his arms to grab his hands.

“Come then,” he stops messing around and keeps your hand warm under his grasp as he pulls you with him. “Let me show you the world.”

No matter the impending doom, your grin widens and that fear vanishes completely, leaving only curiosity and glee where sorrow should be. Once you arrive at where he wanted to go you immediately know you should’ve known better because this place isn’t new, you’ve been on the hill that overlooks Winterfell before. Many times actually it’s his favorite spot after all.

Regardless, the castle from higher ground is truly a beautiful sight with all the glimmering torch lights, and the moonlight dancing on the snow around the ancient grounds.

“Sit,” he demands as he extends his cloak over the ground. “This way you won’t have to get your pretty ass wet.”

You meet his gaze and snicker as you sit, letting him lie down in front of you so he can rest his head on your lap.

“I’ll miss Winterfell,” you mention as you look at the castle below while you stroke his arm. “In a month's time, it’s back to, “yes your Grace, no your Grace”. Locked towers. The insufferable Ser Criston Cole who thinks he’s high and mighty, and my fucking uncle Aegon.” You groan in frustration.

“I can go beat him bloody,” Cregan offers.

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I can handle him. Maybe show him a thing or two as well,” you say smugly, making Cregan smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he says.

You smile down at him and lean down to steal a kiss from his pink lips, but he doesn't fail to ruin the moment.

“If that place is such torture, then stay,” he doesn’t suggest, or persuade you, he’s demanding now.

“All your things are already here. I only need to ask your mother for your hand.”

Your smile drops, and you avert your gaze, not wanting to entertain this further. You want this to be a good last night.

“I may not be ecstatic to return to King's Landing, but I have to go see my grandfather the King, he’s clinging onto life,” you find an excuse that doesn’t involve Aemond just yet. “I miss my family. I want to see my mother soon after I arrive. As well as my brothers, my cousins, all my family who I miss terribly.” You don’t excuse yourself this time, it’s all coming from your heart's desire. You've been apart for so long and can’t really fathom another year without seeing them.

You only wish you could see your father Laenor too.

“You’ll see them at your wedding to your prince,” Cregan grumbles. “Speak the truth, you want to return to him.”

You swallow back the lump forming in your throat and then look down at him with your face contorted in slight annoyance and shock. “No,” you argue back right away to assure him. “No, Aemond…he’s a stranger to me now. We’re betrothed, he was my best friend, but he stopped sending ravens, he stopped caring. He means nothing more than a stranger does.”

Cregan sits up and turns to face you. “Then stay,” he insists. “If he truly is a stranger then stay with me. Marry me. Don’t leave me in agony.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head with a pitiful look on your face. “You know I can’t do that, it’s not that simple,” you argue for his sake and yours.

Cregan however, clenches his jaw and huffs out before adding to his argument. “I told you I’d fight him. I’ll fight everyone that comes in my way.”

You can’t let his words affect you now, no matter how fast it makes your heart race, or how hot your face burns as you grow flustered.

“We’ve kissed, we’ve laid together, you are mine,” he presses passionately. “I’ll kill him to prove it.”

“No,” you quickly rebuttal, causing him to stiffen and furrow his eyebrows as he starts to believe the opposite of what you try to tell him.

“He has the oldest dragon,” you press so he can listen to reason, while you grab Cregan's arms to keep him close. “He’d kill you first. And if he does then…” you trail off and scoff. “Then what will become of me without you?”

Cregan pushes your hands away and stands up with a scowl twisted on his face. “I don’t care because I hate the idea of him touching you, of him kissing you the way I kiss you. I fill with rage knowing he’ll be inside you.”

Your body begins to burn with desire at his words, at the sound of his jealousy, but you don’t let him tempt you, you just stand up and let him grab your cheeks.

“I don’t want him to see you smile, or-or feel your comfort,” Cregan continues to recite beautiful words. “He hurt you already,” he whispers and traces the scar on your face that Aemond accidentally left you with. “I just want you to be mine.”

You shiver at his gentle touch, you crave for more, but you still push him away. “If that’s so then…” you pause and let out a shaky sigh as your eyes fill with tears and that lump of emotions returns to crawl up your throat. “…I wish we had never become friends. I wish we had never met, or loved each other the way we do—”

“Don’t say that,” he cuts you off and approaches you, but you step back.

“I don’t want to be the bane of your existence Cregan,” you finish saying with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I told you before, that night we revealed ourselves to one another for the first time. And you,” you point. “You were okay with it. You knew what was going to happen. You know I’m stubborn, you knew nothing was going to change my fate.” You stifle your whimper and drop your head.

“Look at me,” he says sternly, making you lift your gaze to meet his gray eyes that brew like the angriest storm.

“I’d rather die tomorrow than spend a century without knowing you,” he says, making your breath catch. “You will never be the bane of my existence. Never. Forgive me.”

He approaches you and you let him this time. “But I just don’t understand why you want to marry the prince. Do you not love me?”

You nod and cup his jaw to assure him. “I love you. I just…” you hesitate. “I'm just afraid of losing you. If you win a fight for my hand, Aemond won't stop there, and I can’t even breathe with the thought of living my life without you. Sure we’ll be far from one another, but I’ll be content knowing your heart is beating, and that we are living under the same sky,” you whisper and lower one hand to press it against his chest to feel his heartbeat. “That we share the same sun, that we look at the same moon and stars.”

You offer him a sad smile and he admires it while he swallows thickly, and lingers there stiffly for a moment before he suddenly pulls you in for a deep and passionate kiss that is cut too short.

“So be it then,” he gives in as he pulls away. “I’ll let you go without a fight. I’ll ache for you every day, I’ll love you from afar and want nothing but happiness for you, my sweet love,” he tries to assure you in the way you want to be assured even if the words he says are like bile in his mouth. He presses his forehead against yours and begins to caress your face while he smiles softly at you. “If I hear that he hurt you I’ll march down there and kill him.”

You chuckle and feel tears stream down your cheeks. “Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll write to you every week. Don’t forget me.”

Cregan shakes his head and scoffs. “Don’t speak madness woman, I’d never forget you. I’ll write back every week. And if you don’t get married 6 months from now I will go to your mother personally and ask for your hand.”

You beam at him and nod, knowing that you’ll be married by then. “All right. Okay. I like the sound of that.”

Cregan pulls his head back to take in the sight of your face he thinks is so enchantingly beautiful for a lingering moment before he slams his lips on yours to kiss you again with more passion before he can’t ever again.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

No matter how much you keep telling yourself it was going to happen, nothing could actually prepare you for leaving Cregan and Winterfell. You couldn't even sleep a wink or eat knowing that your life was going to change again.

All your friends, Cregan, and every aspect of this life as you know it is going to become nothing but good memories. Which is very hilarious considering you dreaded coming five years ago; now you don’t want to part from it. Or him.

“Farewell, my friend,” you tell Rolf who is now a Knight, and now stands a foot over you; he was small when you first met.

“Farewell, Princess, may our paths cross again,” he redirects sweetly with a friendly smile.

You draw in a small shaky breath and nod before you step forward and surprise him with an embrace. “If you ever find yourself at King’s Landing come find me, just say you want to talk to me.” You tell him softly.

Rolf tightens his arms around you and assures you. “Of course, Princess.”

You linger in the embrace for a moment longer hoping to drag on this interaction because once you part away the last person to say goodbye to is Cregan.

But no matter how much you fight it, the inevitable is already upon you. There was no avoiding it.

“Farewell, Lord Stark,” you say softly as if you were no more than friends, you don’t even hide your tears even if they’re really for the lover you’re leaving behind and can’t kiss one last time, or tell him how much you love him.

“Thank you for letting me stay, for making Winterfell my home.”

Cregan clenches his fist to resist himself from comforting you, from kissing you, and forcing you to stay. He holds himself back even if it pains him.

“Farewell,” he puts in a simple word with that stern voice he uses when he’s amongst his people. “…Sweet Princess.”

He steps forward as he holds your gaze and reaches his hand out to ask for yours. You know what he wants and don’t hesitate to give him your gloveless hand.

When your warm flesh touches his, he carefully embraces your hand with his and then pulls it towards his lips to press a friendly kiss on your knuckles.

You shiver at the feeling of his wet lips but continue to hold his gaze as if nothing. You let your hand linger in his and push yourself to add more to your final farewell. “Write, I’ll be far but it doesn’t mean we still can’t maintain our friendship.” You smile and slowly pull your hand away to clasp it in front of you again.

“I will,” he assures you and then looks away for the first time since he’s walked you to your carriage to look back at one of the servants and give him a nod.

“I have something for you,” Cregan adds and meets your gaze again, piquing your curiosity. “A farewell present from me and Rickon.”

You slowly begin to grin and look at the servant who falls beside him and hands him a small wooden crate.

“I know how much you love these feline creatures so I want you to take one home,” he continues while motioning you closer with his eyes. When you’re a few inches away you look into the crate and see a small but chunky balled-up dark gray kitten.

“Oh,” you muse and open the crate to carefully take it out. “Hello, my beautiful friend.”

“It’s a piece of Winterfell to take with you,” Cregan interjects as he admires you comforting the kitten.

“Don’t worry, Astraea won’t eat you,” you assure the kitten. “You’ll be friends, won’t you, Wolf?” You give the gray kitten a name that reminds you of Cregan’s gray eyes. You then blink and look over at Cregan with a beaming grin. “Thank you, Lord Stark. I love the gift. I shall love it, cherish it, and always keep it safe.” You exhale deeply and let your handmaidens take the crate as you step back towards your carriage that will take you to the harbor.

“Farwell once again,” you keep longing the interaction as much as you can.

“Farewell, Princess,” Cregan says one more time using your birth name and your old family name while he also clenches his hands into fists again.

You hope he’ll keep interjecting with more but this time he doesn’t ask for your hand, he doesn’t hand you another present, this time it’s time to leave, thus, after one last lingering look you turn and walk to the carriage with tears forming in your eyes. Once you reach the steps, however, Cregan is there beside you, you meet his dark gray eyes for one last time and give him your hand again to let him cup it and help you up the two steps.

Before you can walk inside and close the door in front of him though, you linger there, you hold his comforting gaze even as Astraea lets out a soft cry in the distance. Neither of you want to pull away, but you have to, you have to leave, so you pull away first and walk in. You let the coach close the door before Cregan and minimize your view of his beautiful face.

The coach doesn’t take long to depart from that spot it was stationed at after that, he doesn’t know about your aching hearts, he doesn’t know to slow down so you could look at Cregan’s gray eyes and his pale face through the little gaps designed on the window for longer than a glimpse. The coach races out, making Cregan’s figure disappear before your very eyes, and letting you see snow, endless blankets of snow.

You want to cry badly, but you can’t, you don’t want to give anything away, so you hold onto your kitten, Wolf, and let Astraea express your hidden sadness with her melancholy song as she follows the carriage.

Now onto the stranger who was once your best friend, but who is still your betrothed, Aemond.

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