#possible but inevitable I fear! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

2kiran · 2 months ago

Text

❛ I KNOW YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ❜ ➖ ch1-ch2.

series masterlist | ghostface x reader | nsfw

IN WHICH THERE is only one way to live: take his virginity.

content: 18+ DDDNE: DUBCON, male!ghostface, top male reader, canon timeline, mentions of heterosexuality (?), death threats, physical violence: ghostface injures reader, freeze response, coercion, virginity loss (ghostface’s first time), unprotected sex, creampie

›› previous | v.ao3 | red headers

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You pause momentarily. Titles which have no peculiar prestige in elements echo through your mind, and the back of your throat vibrates loudly with your humming. “I don’t know.”

“You have to have a favorite,” Ghostface answers in time, his palm soothing over his hardening cock hidden beneath thin layers. It was naught but of deviance, sick, and worthy to be indicted of indirect defilement, “What comes to mind?”

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you settle on one and mutter it out. You return the question, “What’s yours?”

“Guess.”

“Hm,” in the forsaken trenches residing within your brain, you are able to vacuously sense an anomalous presence stalking you in every corner. Though, you decide on not to dignify it, considering your brain may be simply playing tricks on you. “A Nightmare on Elm Street.”

“Is that the one with the guy who had knives for fingers?”

“Yeah, Freddy Krueger.”

In spite of the known fact that it was inherently basic knowledge that anyone could possess with disregard to tolerance of such movies, Ghostface almost groans out in pleasure, digging his palm against himself firmer. You had no idea how proud he was.

“Freddy!” He cheered breathlessly, his gaze seemingly fixated on the bulge that resided on the front of your pants, inevitably causing his own cock to throb and his hole to clamp around nothing with want, “That’s right. I like that movie. It was scary.”

Buzzing resonates slowly from your throat, born out of you humphing thoughtfully in agreement. “Only the first one.”

There was thrill in this conversation, in spite of the certitude that this person was no woman.

“So... you got a girlfriend?” Ghostface interrogated through a ragged breath, the puff hitching at the end as he patted his growing bulge lightly as though to reign in his aggravated nerves. Haunting murmurs of jealousy brewed inside of the storm that was currently ravaging his brain at his own question.

It shouldn’t bear any significance. He’ll kill your lover if you have one.

With great and exceeding self-restraint, you hinder yourself from laughing out loud in surprise. The corners of your lips threaten to curve upwards, “Why? You into me?”

Perverted, outrageous excitement courses through the killer’s body as he steels his knees against the dirt to halt himself from humping his palm. He needed you to be with him—even better, have you inside of him for as long as he needs. “Maybe. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

“You never told me your name.” He stated, despite already owning the knowledge of your identity.

It’s only a few more minutes until he’ll get to the love of his life; until he’s granted the luxury of being freely able to caress you, to trap you to his body with his arms, to make you carve your initials into his flesh with that soon-to-be familiar weapon of his, and so many other endless possibilities.

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Oh, fuck.

Warranted fear seizes your heart, your body abnormally stilling for a moment as your breathing halts. Driven by shock, you steer your gaze towards any and every window that may allow anyone to peer into your home. To your dreadfully cursed luck, darkness completely embraced the outside.

“What?”

“I wanna know who I’m talking to.” The anonymous voice residing on the other line confirmed.

“That’s not what you said.” You mutter, departing from the counter behind you to seek for a weapon.

“What’d you think I said?” He rises from his knelt spot, pacing towards an unfortunate entrance of your home. With the aid of his current location, he still has the ability to watch as you fumble with a knife in your trembling possession, your shoulders stiff with alertness. God, you’re beautiful.

“What? Hello?” He prompted, a hint of impatience seeping into his tone.

“I gotta go.”

“Wait, I want to go out with you.”

“No, I don’t—”

“Don’t hang up on me.” Ghostface demanded, a precipitous dawn of anger crossing his heart when you still doggedly ended the line.

You needed to set the phone down somewhere or at least dial the police. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You’re not alone.

The unceremonious deathly rattling of the communicator startled you, your knife almost brutally descending from your grasp. You draw a tattered inhale, sweat naturally developing on your forehead as you reluctantly answer.

“Yes?”

“I told you not to hang up on me.” You didn’t know it consciously, but Ghostface was getting closer and closer.

“What do you want?” You force out, your fingers tightening around the handle.

“To talk.”

“Go dial someone else. Listen—”

“No, you listen you little bitch. You hang up on me again, and I’ll gut you like a fish. Understand?” Ghostface’s voice rose in temper, aggressiveness clutching the edges of the menacing syllables that probed their way out of his mouth. He chuckled upon noticing your shaken silence, “Yeah...”

“Is this a joke?” You ask, frantic. Like a man in dire need—perhaps, you were—you comically rush around your house to guarantee that every lock was activated.

“More of a game, really. Can you handle that, baby?”

If the situation did not concern your life status, your heart would’ve pleasantly fluttered.

Eventually, you arrive to a halt at a corner in the hallway. You glance towards the windows in your kitchen, attempting to gauge any sign that could denounce where he was lurking.

“Can you see me?”

“You know I’m going to call the police.” You warningly interrupted, the life-stealing metal that you delicately cradled was taunting you that you wouldn’t be able to strike the criminal. You were certain of it.

“They’ll never make it in time. We’re out in the middle of nowhere.” He painstakingly emphasized the last word, to which your abdomen churns with regret.

“What do you want?”

“To see what your pretty insides look like. But if you agree to play a game, I’ll let you live.”

A game? Is that what all this was?

Your capacity to laugh was dutifully robbed from you.

“Here’s how we play. I ask a question, and if you get it right, you live.” Ghostface beamed, soundlessly climbing through the window you well-conveniently failed to inspect.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s an easy category: movie trivia.”

An instinct you did not know existed was nagging you.

He’s here.

“Let me give you a warm-up question. Name the killer in Halloween. You can do this.”

“Michael Myers.” You blurt out without thinking, a sharp exhale passing through your nose as you steeled yourself to not allow a hint of vulnerability to be brought into your voice.

“Yes! Very good. Now for the real question.”

“No—”

“But you’re doing so well. We can’t stop now.” Ghostface encouraged, his footsteps deliberately light against the floor.

“Same category. Name the killer in Friday the Thirteenth.”

“Jason!” You almost yell, both of your hands tirelessly seizing the communicator as if it was your dim lifeline, accompanied by the knife you can’t let go of in fear that he will come to terrorize you any moment.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the wrong answer!”

What?

No.

Please no.

“No, it’s not. It was Jason.” You outwardly panic, the beat of your steady heart amplifying. Adrenaline crashes into you like a bullet, practically rendering you free from all movements.

“Afraid not. No way. You should’ve known that Jason’s mother was the original killer.” Ghostface lightly scolded, the head of his cock babbling out small bursts of pre-cum in response to your perceptible horror.

“Lucky for you, there’s a bonus question. What door am I at? Go on, it’s your call.”

He’s here.

Before you’re able to respond in any form, a hasty crash of intricate glass scattering across the ground resounded through the halls. You tense automatically, your shoulders wincing when you see a glimpse of black cloth in one of your doorways. Involuntarily, you lose your grip on the phone and abandon it once it hits the floor with a dull echo. You don’t have the time to spare, so you dash up the stairs.

There’s only about four or five steps left until you reach the top of the staircase when ominous and foreign fingers curl around your ankle, yanking you back down.

“Fuck—” you grunt, twisting around and kicking against the grasp with the lack of precaution.

To great luck, your foot collides with the chest of a figure decked out in long, black, lurex robe with tattered edges at the bottom. It was graced with a metallic-like sheen, the fabric catching in the low lighting. Then, you glance to see the intruder’s face, only to be confronted by an eerie white mask that sustains a permanent and exaggerated horrendous expression that’s guaranteed to be engraved into your memory.

You hear him yelp from the force, followed by the sight of him stumbling. One of his dark boots skidded against the edge of the tread of the step, and it eventually resulted in his fall.

Seizing this opportunity, you steadily—if you can even call it that with how you almost trip over yourself several times—run up to the second floor.

The stranger rapidly shook his head, regaining his consciousness in spite of the near-television static consuming the foremost area of his racked brain. He shoves himself upward a tad too quickly for it to be good for him, and he trails after you like a man on a vengeance-fed rampage.

You’re able to take only a couple of steps inside of your bedroom before Ghostface tackles you on the ground, one hand of his weighing down on your chest while the other holds his knife—your own clattering someplace else—to your vulnerable throat. He straddled your lap, the sides of his knees digging against the outer areas of your thighs. The scent of death awakened; the infamous weapon was now a hair’s breadth away from prickling your skin.

You don’t think you can breathe.

Your knee nudges up, attempting to buck him off of you, to no avail. He assertively settles his weight down on top of you, angling the flat of the metal to your jaw with the sharpened part just barely managing to graze your chin. Your breathing locks in your throat, and you stiffen up to prevent erroneously giving yourself a fresh cut.

“You lose.”

It was nothing short of an exuberant declaration of your defeat. You didn’t need a view of his face to be aware that he was grinning unabashedly.

“There we go, stop struggling. If you wanna live, you have to listen to me.”

At that, you are overcome with the need to retain your life, and you reluctantly exorcise all means of vigor your body previously contained. You lay there, demeaningly underneath him, with the active withholding of delivering a brute hit to his obscured face. Your hands ball into tight fists and the intruder immediately takes notice. But it didn’t matter much to him. He knows you’ve given in.

A giggle, a demoralizing sound that is seemingly altered by what you guess is a voice modulator of some sorts, reverberates from his chest and up through the elongated, wide-open mouth that abominably expands the jaw. The eyes of the mask were hollow and dark; yet, nevertheless, they were piercing your form enough to make you slightly squirm.

Ghostface’s reaction is immaculately swift. He clenches his thighs around yours to force you to still, and that’s when you feel it.

Oh.

He was hard.

His cock pressed against your thigh, the sensation remarkably solid and warm through the decently wispy material of his costume. He sees your gaze darting towards his groin, and he doesn’t know how to outwardly react, but he knows you’re staring. The hand that’s on your chest reaches up to take hold of your chin, tilting your head towards his own and away from the neglected ache in between his legs. Gloves—black gloves that are terrifyingly smooth against your skin conceal his hands, you silently note. He lifts the knife away from your body, but he did not discard it next to your forgotten knife. He was granting you some respite.

“I think you know what I want now.” Ghostface pinpointed, experimentally jutting his hips forwards and backwards once. It was uncoordinated, providing minimum pleasure for him but none at all for you. The realization that your hands were still unbounded has you hooking your hands on his waist, to which he let out a hoarse moan in delight.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Hearing your question gifts him the audacity to groan in exasperation. He twirls the weapon around in his hand, idly swinging it with no true objective. “Don’t be stupid. What do you think I’m talking about?”

Before the urge completely registers in your brain, your right hand deviates from his side and flings upwards to connect with his jaw. He jolts, faltering on top of you as his palm gripping the weapon falls onto the floor to maintain his balance. It was an opening, and once more, you attempt to turn your positions around but he’s suddenly locking his legs around you. He slaps you hard across the face, averting you from retaliating in time, and uses his index finger, middle finger, and thumb to slightly compress your cheeks together.

Without a warning, he slashes a line with the steel blade over your cheek. You gasp, the dart of pain firing through the entirety of your face along with the stinging hit given to you just moments prior. The cut was relevantly shallow, light, and not at all intended to scar, but it still mildly hurts you. Beads of blood begin to dot along the cut and slide down your cheek. The scent was distinctly metallic, hitting you in the nose in a way that makes you want to hurl.

“Do that again, and I’ll fucking kill you! Now, stay still and keep that pretty mouth shut.” Ghostface reprimands as he repositions himself, the volatile duality of his behavior startling you into obeying his whims. You deliberately allow your hand to slip off of him, and he doesn’t seem to take any offense. Again, he rolls his clothed hard cock against your still-soft groin, albeit a tad too gentle for either of your liking.

“Fuck… you feel good. Real good,” He praises under his breath, slowly grinding against you. Using his thumb, he swipes the trickle of blood up, cautious as to not inadvertently brush the wound. He raises that hand and tucks it underneath his mask, grunting in appreciation as his tongue—not that you can see it, but it’s a prediction—flicks out to lick the vital fluid that belongs to you, and he mumbles, “Taste good too.”

In that moment, you were suspended in an unyielding trance, unable to respond or move from mere shock. What the hell was going on?

Ghostface sighs, long and drawn-out and agitated. For apparently good measure and to liberate you from your ephemeral hypnosis, he strikes your cheek a second time. It was delivered with a lower level of physical power but a higher level of intention to snap you out of whatever train of thoughts are booming through your head. It works as expected, your head briefly jerking to the side then back to him.

“I want you to fuck me,” he abruptly blurts out.

You sputter, heat skulking to your bloodied face and you half-expect to be hit again for the never-ending length of your stupidity, “What?”

“If you wanna live tonight, baby, you’re gonna fuck me. Sounds good?” Ghostface rephrases for your sake, tilting his head off to the side as if he was scrutinizing you.

“Why do I—”

KRNKKKK!

He stabs the knife into the floor right beside your head, the weapon scraping as it splinters the floor slightly. You flinch, instinctively trying to firmly separate yourself and the killing tool, and he considers that as a cue to intensely ground his groin against yours to hoist your attention to him and him only.

“Do you wanna live or not?”

“I—”

Your nth mistake.

You’re too slow in telling him what he desperately needs to hear. Driven by furiosity, he smacks your injured cheek, hard, your blood splattering all over his now crimson-stained glove—one that he’s neither throwing away nor throwing into the washer—and you loudly grunt out a pained curse.

He coils that same hand around your exposed neck. Not to strangle you. At the very least, not yet.

With his unoccupied hand, he reaches down to loosen the strings sticking out of your waistband. You want to argue, you should argue, but you realize that you’ll only grant an audience with your end if you dare voice out your disapproval.

“Take me to your bed.” Ghostface demanded, his fingers ghosting over your cock prior to grasping his knife once more. You were growing hard under his attention, inevitably. Your hands curl around his powerful thighs, the flesh flexing with anticipation as you sit up. Whether or not you were able to withstand such weight underneath your palms, it didn’t matter. You are obligated to hoist him.

He dutifully slings his arms around your neck, his legs wrapping around your waist to support himself upright. You carry him to your bed (just as he had ordered like you were some sort of rabid animal to be tamed) and drop him onto the mattress. The furniture creaks as Ghostface’s back connects with it, bowing a little in protest to an unwanted stranger. He kicks his knees up, pushing himself backwards for his boots to dig onto the sheets.

His hands reach down to take the bottom of his costume and yank it upwards, the material pooling around his middle as his lower half is exposed to your supposed-to-be uninterested gaze. His arousal prominently strained against his boxers, a damp spot residing where the head of his cock was. You had expected an unsightly creature to unveil themselves to you. Alas, his skin, of what you were permitted to view, was normal. Human. Soft, even.

He allows his weapon to fall next to him, deliberately within his reach in case he finds use for it.

“Well?” He prompts, hooking his thumbs beneath the band of his boxers and pulling them down until they are all the way around his ankles. He languidly hangs it around one of them, before booting it off of him. His palms smooth under his knees, lifting his legs up to exhibit his rim for you.

Shit.

There was slickness glossed over and inside Ghostface’s hole, which was seemingly stretched out. Putting it to a test, and you weren’t even aware that you found yourself allured by the sight that you should’ve felt repulsed towards, you rub the pad of your index finger around his entrance to gather bits of the lube and push it into him. No resistance, if you ignore how he squeezes down onto your digit with a strangled moan.

“Yes, fuck,” he gasped out through a distorted rasp of his voice changer, his walls tense and amazingly more welcoming than any other used cunt. “W-Worked myself open just for you and your cock. Mmn, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Waiting? He’s been waiting?

You feel absolutely sick. For weeks, possibly for months, he has been stalking you without end.

And you’re the one who has to pay the price for his attention.

October 31st, 2:01 A.M.

Soon enough, your hips are snug against the backs of his thighs while your wet cock traitorously throbs inside of him.

Ghostface forced you into his untouched body without any remorse; his being born from sin ushering you to where you are now. You hold the advantage over him, with him being in a more vulnerable position, but you are physically and mentally departed from every means of control. He threw his legs over your shoulders, straining himself for the reward of pleasure that he’s selfishly making you give him. He beckons you to lean over him, and you follow.

“That’s a good boy.” He praises, his head tipping back against the sheets.

The sensation by itself is strange. You pilot your hips backwards until half of your girth is being clung onto by his too-tight rim, before you snap into him once more. That wrecks out an appreciative moan from him, his thighs twitching against your upper half. Your length glistens with the lube he had graciously fingered into himself earlier, causing the strokes to be much smoother.

The head of your cock manages to rub against his prostate, his reaction immediate. “Fuuuc—ah!” Ghostface babbles, the small of his back arching off of the bed as his hole can’t help but clench down tight around you. Granted, it has you buck into him, the veins that run across your length brushing against sweet spots that have his boots digging against your back.

You’re compelled to leisurely roll your hips, your dick slipping further inside of his spasming hole. You grind into him, ensuring that just the right amount of attention is driven into the certain bundle of nerves that has his pretty hole trembling around you. He whimpers, tears welling up in his eyes because, fuck, you’re too handsome and your cock is too thick for his brain to comprehend. The crease that’s formed in between your eyebrows due to them knitting together makes him want to rip off his mask and kiss you.

But that’ll wait for another time.

Once he loosens around you, becoming docile underneath the presence of your body, you resume to your previous pace. The unattended cut across your cheek stings as your teeth grit together, a drying stream of crimson trudging down to your jaw. He whines, his hand lifting to wipe that trail off of you and rocks forward to meet your thrust. “Best f—hngh— f-fucking cock I’m ever going to have,” Ghostface mumbles under a tight breath, his own length pulsing with the need of release against his flexing abdomen.

“You’re sick,” you grunt, pausing your movements to grab the base of your length and pull out. His lips part to retort, but you slide back into him with an abrupt slam.

“I—fuck!” He curses, a noise torn in between a pathetic moan and a scream. Ghostface laughs, his chest rumbling upwards as he uncontrollably contracts around you, “We are both sick. You’re gonna cum inside of me sooner or later, and you won’t be telling a goddamn soul about what happened between us, ‘less you wanna—”

You repeat the previous motion; your leaky tip slamming against his sensitive spot harder than before.

“—hnnngh—! Shit—” Ghostface gasps, interrupting himself as his legs slide off of your shoulders as they helplessly spread apart. He looked almost pretty like that, his cute rim squeezing onto every inch of your throbbing cock to coax out your own release. Your skin and hand was wet with him, the lubricant combined with your pre-cum was gushing out of his entrance and conveniently slicking you up.

He felt so utterly full.

Killing you will be a damn waste, and he couldn’t possibly get rid of his Sweetheart now.

His hands rush downwards, his fingers gathering the gentle sheets for leverage. He struggles, squirms, when he senses a rapid euphorical coil bundling within his lower abdomen. He whimpers, the vocal modulator barely managing to modify the noise.

“S’this okay?” You pant out the words sarcastically next to his ear, slowing your thrusts into harsher yet deeper ones. Ones that shove his body further up your bed and nearly bang the top of his head against the wall.

“Y—Yes!” He cried out, his voice gravelly and hoarse and raw. Squelching sounds came from the apex between his legs, from where your body was intertwining with his, and he zones into that sensation of you filling him up over and over and over again until his thighs flail and lock around your waist.

Suddenly, his body jerks once, before cum dribbles from his slit. He shudders all over, trembling breathlessly as he rides out his first high by rolling his hips just in time for the head of your cock to breach him. He clamps down there, purposely, to trigger your climax — just as he wanted.

It’s wet and warm. Ghostface can feel your cock twitching against his walls, and he has to physically prevent himself from forcing you to fuck into him again. He unwraps his legs, exhaustedly slumping against the bed. You pull out of him, rather too quickly to go on unnoticed, and practically collapse next to him.

He feels boneless, with your cum trickling out of his stretched hole.

You might’ve just successfully saved your life and a few others.

1K notes · View notes

fabled-fiction · 1 year ago

Note

Cregan Stark x Targaryen daughter of Rhaenyra

I don’t have a deep plot but I do have an idea. What if reader takes the place of Jace and flies to encourage Cregan like in the recent episode and he’s mesmerized by her beauty? 👀 Something along those lines — feel free to add or change it! ☺️ Thanks!

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts

(Cregan Stark x Strong!Reader)

Summary: When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Yearning, possible OOC for Cregan (love does things to a man can you blame him??), Use of (Y/N)

A/N: This took…too long to write. I wanted to make this a yearning lovesick-y fic of Cregan that I have been DYING for and kept mulling over all the details. BUT ALAS it is here, I hope it filled your request and you all enjoy!!

You never thought that you would see snow.

You always wished to see it, having heard of its beauty. Ice falling from the sky in beautifully small flakes that seemed to be sewn together by the gods.

Looking at the palm of your hand, you smiled as you studied the pattern of the snowflake. Its exquisite beauty only lasting mere seconds as it began to melt into the valleys of your skin. A small frown made its way in place of your smile as you temporarily mourned the flake, before you wiped your hand on your cloak.

To think this place was blanketed in such beauty for the entire year.

Just ahead, Jace took a glance over his shoulder as he stared at the spectacle that was you. You stood next to your dragon, still as ever letting the snow collect on your hair and shoulders. You looked statue-esque as you continued to catch snowflakes, admiring them before they met their inevitable fate. Lost in your own world as you took a moment to forget about everything that had been plaguing you for the past few months.

He wished he could do the same, even for just a moment. Arriving at Winterfell, had him feeling on edge. For his whole life Jacaerys had protected you, feeling it was his duty to make sure nothing ever hurt you. The both of you, him being the first son of Queen Rhaenyra and you the first and only daughter, had grown up to know the true meaning of duty. This alone had bonded the two of you practically to the hip, it did not matter that you were older than him.

Looking back at you, he smiled as he saw how much snow had collected on your hair…people could mistake you for a “true” Targaryen…

That alone reminded him of the reason they were there.

“(Y/N)...c’mon we mustn't be even more late than we already are to meet with Lord Stark. Nightfall will be upon us yet…”

He watched as you finally looked up from the palm of your hand and sighed. Shaking the snow off of your head and shoulders, you rushed to meet his pace.

“I must say, I quite like this cold. It's much better than the humidity we face on Dragonstone.”

This earned a chuckle from Jacaerys. “Is that what you think of now? Not what to say to Lord Stark? What words to sew together to ensure he is our ally?”

“I do not need to take such action. Diplomacy comes easy to me. Besides, the Starks are known to be loyal to a fault.”

That much was true. Jace wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such anxiety with this meeting. It could have been that the simple act of ensuring allyship meant that war was truly upon your house. Or perhaps it could have simply just been that he did not wish to look a fool aside you as you expertly made your way through conversation with Lord Stark despite this being your first meeting. Since the both of you were small you had a knack for persuading people with your words. The Silver Tongued Dragon, you had been known as not long after this talent was found out.

Yes, he had nothing to fear. This would all go smoothly.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaeyrs Velaryon and Princess (Y/N) Velaryon of House Velaryon have arrived.”

Cregan nodded to the squire, straightening his cloak as he strapped Ice to his back.

This meeting in particular was one he was not too entirely worried about. House Stark had bent the knee to King Visery’s when he named his daughter as heir to the iron throne. This matter had been in the back of Cregan’s mind, with many more pressing matters being his top priority. He supposed that is why he often did not make the best first impressions, as his priorities were not that of the common list that many found themselves concerned with. He did not take an immediate interest in the pursuit of heirs or of ensuring that the house had a formidable reputation. Duty was his priority.

This meeting was a matter of formality to him. To ensure that he would stand behind Queen Rhanerya and support her in whatever way he could, without crippling the defenses on the Wall.

His hands reached back to tie his hair halfway up, his eyes focusing on the black ice of the steps. As his fingers struggled to snap the band around, he finally looked up to meet the faces of the two young dragons.

When his eyes met yours, everything seemed to stop.

It was as if the snows knew to freeze this moment over, so he could have the chance to meet your eye.

Cregan Stark had heard of the beauty of the old Valyria. He listened to the stories men shared of the silver haired house that brought out the darkest of temptations of man. How their men and women held a grace about them that had wives and husbands lust for just the touch of their hand on theirs.

As he looked at you, he felt that those stories were watered down backswill of a drunkard. There was not a word within the all known language of the Seven Kingdoms that could describe what he felt in this moment as he had the fortune to lay his eye upon you. He felt his grip on the banister tighten as he took in the sight of you. You, who looked up at him with the most mesmerizing beautiful eyes that only looked at him.

It wasn't until he saw the rise and fall of your own chest did he remember to breathe.

“Lord Stark, It's an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Looking over at your brother, Cregan cleared his throat as he made his way down the stairs to properly shake his hand.

“The honor is all mine, to host the both of you here. My apologies for the weather, but it is the North.”

His accent stuck out to you. On Dragonstone and even throughout the Keep, when you had stayed there once upon a time, people often shrouded themselves in uppity falsehoods. Either to seem as if they were meant to truly walk amongst you, or to be someone entirely different from whence they came. It was part of the reason why you were so glad to have fled to Dragonstone, there were not as many falsehoods there.

So to see Cregan Stark have no fear in brandishing his weaponry, and speak to you in the laced tongue of the North was refreshing. You were drawn to the way he felt as if the niceties of royalty were second thought. As if the both of you could afford to toss aside pleasantries. It made you smile.

There was something else to be said about the Northerner. Just the way he stood before the both of you alone was enough action to intrigue you.

“Lady Velaryon, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When his hand enveloped yours, you felt your breath catch in your throat. His eyes did not leave yours, as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

“I wish it under other circumstances, Lord Stark.”

Giving him a small smile, the two of you stood there eye in eye. He had yet to let go of your hand as the two of you held each other there. When you stood this close to him you were able to get a better look at the man they had named Wolf of the North. Cregan Stark stood before you, dressed in fur and leather, bowing as he held your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he held your eye. A flurry of grey and blue looked at you, purely you, and you couldn't help but feel as if that's all he wanted to do. Just as you stood there now, feeling consumed by the eye of the storm and wanting nothing more but to throw yourself to the whims of the winds.

“Lord Stark, Is there somewhere more private we could discuss?”

Feeling the hot stare of Jacaerys gaze on you, you regrettably took your hand from Cregan’s grasp. The imprint of his warmth on your skin remained, even through the leather, making you bring your hand to your chest as you bowed your head to him quickly.

Clearing his throat, Cregan looked at Jacaerys with a nod before motioning to the large metal lift.

“ ‘Course, let us talk atop the Wall.”

Jacaery’s held your eye for a moment as the both of you followed the Wolf. His eyes held a question within them as the two of you silently spoke. He had watched that whole scene unfold, having been a bystander to the tension that grew with every second that Cregan held your gaze. You simply rolled your eyes as you shoved him before following the Northerner into the metal cage.

Closing your eyes, you froze for a moment to feel the northern winds run through your hair and cloak. Snowflakes found themselves resting on you again, drawn to the warmth that ran through your Targaryen blood. As the lift brought you higher and higher into the sky, level with where you flew your dragon, it almost felt as if the air in your lungs crystallized.

“So tell me Lord Stark, What is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones? Is it not still summer throughout the isles of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan was so lost in his jealousy of the snowflakes that rested upon your skin that he almost didn't hear you speak. It wasn't until you had opened your eyes and looked at him through your lashes did he realize you had addressed him.

“This is only a late summer snow, my princess. In the true winter it will cover all you see, any memories you hold of warmth will be forgotten.”

“Sounds..hauntingly beautiful. Whilst this is my first time seeing snow it is my understanding that this is not the first time our ancestors have met here to treat? If I am correct it was the…Conqueror and the King in the North?”

Jacaerys felt a relief fall over his shoulders as he heard you expertly laced the matter at hand into conversation. His eyes landed on Cregan as he watched the man hang onto every word you spoke. Not once had he looked at Jacaerys after the three of you stepped into the lift. His eyes never left you even before you spoke. He would like to think that it was because of the presence and attention you demanded. He had seen it many a time before, people could not look away from you whenever you entered a room, and their fates were often sealed after you had started to speak.

But, something else lay within his gaze. Jacaerys had seen that look before. The look of total awe and devotion to the other.

It was the same exact look he gave Baela.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless of course he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan looked over to Jacaerys with a sigh. This meeting was meant for diplomacy, he had to remind himself of this as he looked to the Prince. He felt a crease grow within his brow as the three of you walked throughout the icy walkways of the top of the wall.

When your hand reached to hold his arm, he felt a fire light in his chest at your touch alone. It was as if you took all his pain and worry, forbidding it from plaguing him. When he took the opportunity to look over at you, he felt the ice in his veins thaw.

“What my brother is getting at, Lord Stark, is that there is a threat upon the unity to the Seven Kingdoms. One that would tear the realm apart if the men and women who swore an oath to our grandfather do not remember who the rightful heir is. You understand our concerns do you not?”

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my princess…”

Looking at your hand placed on the crook of his elbow, he swallowed as he rested his hand atop yours.

“Can we depend on your men if the time comes that the Hightowers declare war upon our mother’s claim to the throne?”

Looking at Jacaerys, Cregan swallowed. He should not have felt torn, but he did. He needed his men here, to defend the wall from that which dared to plague Westeros. There were forces that lay in wait, that threatened the sanctity of not only the North but the South as well. He did not wish for his duty to falter in this dire time of need. But he had seen the worry in your eye. He knew that you were dependent on the power of the North if your mother’s throne, if you family was meant to remain the next in line. Another part of him wanted to promise whatever he could, whatever you needed just at the drop of the word.

“You must understand my hesitation, my Prince. Whilst I wish for nothing more than to offer you the whole of which the North has to offer, I must keep my army here to defend the Wall. Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall to keep out snow and savages?”

As the three of you approached a divet within the wall, all of a sudden a very overwhelming dread filled your stomach. Looking over the edge, you saw nothing but a vast forest, covered in snow. But for some reason, the dragon within you faltered. Every sense you had was screaming at you to back away from the ledge that you took further steps towards.

“What does it keep out?” Jace asked, as he felt his heart fall in his chest at the sight of you taking a closer step to the edge of the Wall.

“Death.”

You took a moment to look over your shoulder at Cregan once hearing the declaration. You had heard stories about the meeting place that took place here. How when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne stood in your very spot, their dragons refused to cross the threshold. It made your stomach drop just at the idea of there being something more beyond the wall. That was a thought for another time however.

Both Jace and Cregan watched as you stood still as a statue once more, looking over the land of the North.

“I understand your hesitation to pull your men from the Wall, Lord Stark. It is quite the responsibility you have here,” Taking a step back, you swallowed as you smoothed your hair back. Jace offered you a hand to steady yourself as you took a few steps back from the edge.

“All we ask is that you provide whatever you can when the time comes. In return I personally can promise you’ll have mine when needed.”

Cregan sighed as he looked between the Wall and you. That alone had just sealed his fate, that he truely would give you whatever you needed, especially now knowing that you felt a duty to protect what was his as well. He could see it in your eyes when you looked over that edge. You believe his tales of things that lurked in the dark, just as he believed you when it came to the vile words of treachery.

The both of you would need the other soon enough yet.

“I can offer you thousands of greybeards. They have seen far too many winters, having grown a distaste for the cold. Their skills are well honed, and they can be ready to fight at a moment's notice. They will fight hard for you, like Northerners.”

There was a visible tension that dropped from the both of your and Jace’s shoulders after his words. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder as you clasped your hands together in front of you. Jace then reached forward to shake Cregan’s hand with both of his.

“Thank you Lord Stark. Your promises will not be forgotten.”

Finding your way beside the both of them, you clapped your hand on both their shoulders with a beaming smile.

“Lets celebrate shall we?”

He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You sat across the table, the warmth of the candle light that lit up the meeting hall suiting itself well on your cheeks. You had settled in well at the opposite head of the table, chatting with other Northern women. You were content, from as well as he could tell.

His eyes hadn’t left you since the minute you found yourself in his halls, drinking his wine and eating his food. There was something that stirred in the pits of his stomach as he…provided for you. In the ways of war and also in the niceties of comfort. You had taken well to both, and he planned to bathe in your presence for as long as he could before you took your inevitable departure.

After that he wasn’t sure he would see you again ever.

While he should have been fine with that, as he had told himself a multitude of times that courting and the ways of society were well beyond his interests, something made him sick at the idea of letting you just slip away because of some silly notions he had been telling himself. You had bewitched him at first glance, and as he had taken in more of your presence throughout the day he could rightfully say that you had taken up a space in his mind if not in its entirety.

His hand gripped his chin tighter at these thoughts alone.

“Lord Stark…”

Shaking his head, he looked over to see your brother standing beside him.

“My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jace motioned to the chair besides Cregan, sitting down as the Lord motioned him. Taking one last look at you, as you laughed aloud at whatever the person holding your attention had said, he figured he could spare a moment of his attention being somewhere else.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you once again for pledging your support. I know it was not your responsibility to ease my anxieties but you did anyway, and I am grateful for it.”

He gave a curt smile to the prince, turning his body to face him to ensure that he was indeed involved in whatever conversation Jacaerys had meant to begin. However that could not be further from the truth as his mind began to wander.

“A Stark never forgets their oath. I would not be the man I am today had I intended to ever break it. “

“I figured as much. My sister said quite the same thing when we arrived, she being the more faithful one.”

Cregan smiled at the comment, taking another look over to you. You were alone in thought now, whoever you were speaking with having taken your attention for granted no doubt and departing to enjoy the festivities that were about. You were looking out the window, taking in the snow of the North like you had been earlier that day.

“She the smarter of the two of you hmm?” He quipped, smirking as he watched Jace chuckle to himself.

“She is the smartest out of all my siblings I would say. (Y/N) has always been a good judge of character, I don’t think I have ever seen her put her trust into someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His heart jumped at the words Jace bestowed upon him. Somehow knowing that you trusted him, that he was one of the few that could claim to have earned your admiration even within just a few words made him feel stronger in a sense. Is this what men talked about, when they said that the affection of a woman made them feel as if they could move the hills? If this is how he felt just at the mention of your trusting him, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he would feel from being the object of your affections.

“I think that might be one of the main reasons why she hasn’t been courted.”

Cregan froze, feeling himself look over at you once again. For some reason the thought did not run through his mind that your hand could have already been called for. It stirred something in him, knowing that your name was still Velaryon.

Your seat was empty when Cregan looked over again. He saw your silhouette turn the corner quickly, vanishing in a flurry of red and black.

“Enjoy the rest of the meal my prince.” Cregan laid his hand on Jace’s shoulder before making his exit in the same direction that you had.

Jace smiled to himself as he watched the man quickly follow your footsteps with haste, his cloak making a rather dramatic arch at the turn.

There you stood, looking into the sky. You looked as if you were infatuated by the moon herself, lit up only by her beam as snowflakes flitted around you. If it was possible for you to look anymore ethereal Cregan would become devote. You were cast in a halo of moonlight, so entranced that it almost made him guilty for interrupting such an intimate moment.

Looking over your shoulder, he swallowed whatever nerves he was feeling so he could actually have the opportunity to talk with you. But then you smiled at him, and he felt himself grow weak. Part of him wanted to fight against this foreign feeling, the other wanted to bask in it.

“Lord Stark, I hope my leaving didn’t come off as rude. I wanted to enjoy the cold for just a little longer.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you have taken such an interest in what others would consider harsh.”

This got a small hum from you as you held your gloved hand out. “How one could consider this harsh is beyond me.”

Cregan chuckled to himself as he came to stand next to you, watching as you studied the snowflake in your palm.

“Winter is not often kind. The cold and ice have a tendency to turn those away, since it takes so much and gives so little.”

“Fire does the same, yet people hold it in such a high regard. People should do the same with snow.”

Cregan hung onto every word you said, taking this private moment deep within. Hearing you speak so poetically, especially when the topic was anything other than the purpose of which you came. To get a glimpse into who you were, to know the person that was you made him think of a million other questions to ask just to fill out every step it took to understanding you.

He watched you closely as you brought your hand down, and held your arms when you looked up. The cloak you had dawned earlier was nowhere in sight, and if he could recall it had been left behind on your chair in the haste of leaving the room. Cregan was quick to remove his own fur lined cloak, and drape it across your shoulders. It swallowed you, enveloping you in the lingering warmth that was him.

“Thank you, you did not have to.”

“What type of a host would I be if I let you freeze?”

You laughed at his comment, a full laugh, and placed your hand on his bicep. It was still cold, from catching snowflakes, but it warmed him none the less.

“Plus, it looks better on you. The North suits you.”

A flash of blush rested on your cheeks at the comment, and made you tighten the grip on his cloak.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I do have to say of all the places I’ve been I think I have enjoyed my time here the most.”

With a nod, he clasped his hands behind his back before leaning a little closer to whisper to you.

“Well I hope then that the next time you are here I can show you all that Winterfell has to offer..that is if there is a next time?”

You both had turned to face each other now, your hand still holding his arm as you looked up and only him now. He looked at you the same way the moon did, and you basked in the warmth of him in the same way.

Reaching forward, his hand came to hold a bit of your bang before wiping the snow from it and tucking it behind your ear. His hand came to rest on your cheek, holding the side of your face as the both of you were able to finally really look at each other without the wandering eye of anyone else.

He took his time committing your face to memory, just in case this was truly the last time he would see you. Cregan wanted to make sure his dreams were able to replicate the image of you.

You stood there, doing the same. You were surrounded by him entirely, in scent and sight. This entire afternoon when he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. You could feel this back and forth game of cat and mouse that had played out, but there was a nagging reminder of everything that lead to this meeting and everything that waited after it.

Perhaps you could take this night to bask in something that wasn’t duty.

“I could entertain the thought, only if you could make the trip worthwhile.”

This earned a laugh from the northerner as he looked at you, and his thumb ran under your eye. The feeling off his touch had you feeling drunk off his attention. Oh you were absolutely certain if anyone had seen the two of you in this exact moment there would be many an accusation.

“Oh? And how exactly would I do that my princess?” He mused, looking at you tenderly

Reaching to hold the wrist of the hand that held you, you stroked his wrist and hummed.

“Give me a reason to come back, Cregan Stark. A reason that isn't just snow, or the cold. Something that is more than the North. More than duty.”

He stood there, just staring back into your eyes as he thought of the declaration. To give you a true and proper reason to ride all the way back here, where he was nothing but duty and sacrifice. To give you a part of him that was something else completely. You asked this of him as if it was the easiest thing he could sacrifice in order to see you again.

It should have been a hard request to fill. A question that should have left him tormented when giving the answer.

But somehow his answer was sealed the minute you stepped into view.

“Me…Come back for me.”

In the silent moment between the two of you, all that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the beating of your hearts as they became forever joined with just a touch.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #cregan stark #velaryon!reader #hotd x reader #hotd season 2 #strong!reader

3K notes · View notes

be-xkyy · 5 months ago

Note

yandere cowboy x boss's daughter who is an innocent country girl and barely knows that the person she trusts most is the one she should fear most

Well, I have a few ideas coming to mind about this scenario but I'll pick one for now.

Tw: Yandere, violence, blood, breeding, dirty talk , naive reader.

Masterlist

Yandere cowboy who works for your father for a while now. He's one of his most trusted workers and your father isn't the type to trust many people.

He always does jobs here and there on the ranch helping to put up wire fences so cattle don't escape, looking for cattle when they enter other lands, threatening neighboring ranchers when they don't want to return cows or sheep.

In his defense, they deserve a bullet in the head for trying that shit with him.

But the job he likes the most is taking care of you, the beautiful and naive daughter of his boss. He simply fell in love with you since he saw you for the first time a few years ago.

You were all pretty behind your father in that flowery dress, cowboy boots, your braided hair... and how can we forget your cute tits.

Tits he thought about that same night as he masturbated, his calloused hand wrapped around his hard member as he rubbed vigorously imagining you looking up at him with your big eyes as you ride him your tits bouncing on his face it's so good he ends up cumming all over his hand.

You are indeed a pretty little thing all smiles and ignorant of the world and people's intentions. Raised and protected by your father kept under his wing for far too long after all you are his only daughter.

It's inevitable that he ends up threatening and beating to death your countless suitors who shamelessly approach you believing they have a chance, no fucking way will it happen. not on his watch.

He simply corners them away from your sight and beats them mercilessly, he gives them a hard punch his knuckles impact their nose with a loud crunch he doesn't stop as the man falls to the floor with a broken nose.

Of course not.

He beats them until his fists are bruised and the man's face is covered in blood with a broken nose, teeth knocked out and eyes swollen he grabs them by the collar of their shirts as he growls.

“Stay away from her or i assure you this will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you, buddy”

The one who tries to make himself as presentable as possible so you won't get suspicious when he comes back to you.

He knows everything he does is worth it when you show all worried for him grabbing his calloused hands in yours, looking at his bruised knuckles asking him if he's okay with that worried tone that makes his cock hard inside his pants.

He ends up asking you to “comfort” him a little like he taught you. You both end up in the barn with him leaning you on hay bales, his hands undoing his belt and zipper before pulling down his pants along with his boxers that get caught on his knees.

Then he lifts your dress as you whine about the hay stinging your ass, he just pats your thigh to shut you up as his fingers pull down your panties, he hisses when he sees your pussy he moves his thick fingers closer inspecting your wet entrance.

“God you're so wet, for someone who acts so sweet you're a bit of a slut aren't you doll?”

He arches an eyebrow when you shake your head shyly at his words murmuring an embarrassed "I'm not..." he lets out a laugh that rumbles from deep within his chest his thick fingers don't stop moving thrusting into your hot pussy your walls squeeze his fingers like hell.

He grabs his member unable to resist any longer he uses your wetness to lubricate his cock and slide inside you, both of you let out a moan of pleasure you from the delicious stretch and him from feeling your walls throb around him he murmurs.

“What a tight fucking pussy you have so hungry for my fat cock baby doll.”

He moves his hips hard his heavy balls slap against your ass and his pubic hair scrapes deliciously against your pussy, your juices forming a creamy circle at the base of his cock as your nails dig into his muscled belly for support, his moans combined and the loud wet sound of his cock pounding into your pussy fills the barn.

“You're about to cum aren't you baby doll? Fuck–of course you're about to cum your pussy is getting so tight right now I think you want to rip my cock off.”

His hands tighten their grip on your waist and you just mumble stupidly wrapping your legs tightly around his waist your boots dig into his ass as you cum letting out a high pitched moan your eyes roll back in your head from the intense pleasure, he growls thrusting into you hard chasing his own orgasm that doesn't take long to come.

With one last thrust he thrusts deep inside you, stopping his movements and letting his semen explode, flooding your interior with its swimmers. Who knows, maybe today will be the day when his seed finally takes root inside you. He would be the best father, the best husband and the best successor for your father. Your father will also see it that way. Because it would be a shame to have to kill him, after all, they are almost family, right..?

2K notes · View notes

poguehearted77 · 7 months ago

Text

Co-Star Confessions

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Co-Star Confessions-> The cast takes you along on a trip to take a lie detector test for an interview. The jokes are rolling and the tea starts to spill.

Summary: A lie detector, a dark room, and unspoken tension pull you into a whirlwind of revelations, where secrets are spilled, emotions run high, and your growing romance with Drew becomes impossible to hide.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Okay be honest, who else went on a deep dive of doom last night and watched all of Blackbox's previous interviews?" Madelyn turns from her place in the passenger seat, facing you, Madison and Chase so you can hear her question clearly.

All hands go up. The anticipation is high and circling in the car. Today the cast has split up into two cars as you're being shipped off to another studio to record an interview with Blackbox.

"Some of those questions were brutal, and you're hooked up to a lie detector so there's no chance you can avoid the truth." Chase lets out a weighted breath, his mind running off with the possible questions they could ask. There's a small sprout of fear blossoming around the possibility they'll pry open closed doors about his and Madelyn's break up.

The concept is simple: Prior to the interview, Blackbox has done their own research and collected some surface-level, intermediate, and mildly invasive questions that the fans of the show are circulating online. One by one, the cast will sit in the empty black room with no one but the polygrapher and a lie detector, the questions get asked and if you're telling the truth you get a point, if you're lying you lose a point.

The castmate with the most points at the end gets to ask any co-star any question of their choice.

"I can't believe I let Madison drag me into this." You scoff and all she does is smile bright and innocent. It took some convincing of the producers but she's very persuasive when she needs to be.

"We're family now. If we go down, so do you." Chase holds your hand and gives it a condescending squeeze. "I take that as a threat." You snatch your hand away and everyone laughs.

As you arrived, it seems the car with Carlacia, Drew and JD had beat you guys there. Their driver was already pulling off the lot, telling you the others were inside. You got out of the car behind Chase and adjusted your clothes.

Today, your stylists had picked out a white long-sleeve shirt layered under a sleek black vest, paired with a gray mini skirt, black sheer tights, a small shoulder bag, delicate gold acccesories, and a sleek pulled-back pony-tail for a perfectly polished look.

You could already hear the chatter from the studio from out in the hall as you entered the room behind Madison, more chatter erupting as the full cast is reunited. You did your rounds to greet the others you hadn't been riding with. "You look great," Drew compliments as he briefly rests his head atop yours during your hug. You fit in his arms as perfectly as a puzzle.

His pathetic instincts allowed him to take a deeper breath to get a stronger pull of your gentle perfume that intoxicated his mind. "I don't remember getting a compliment from you this morning!" Carlacia accuses him playfully and he laughs along before flattering her endlessly and you thought it was cute.

There’s no denying it. From the very beginning, you and Drew have danced around the unspoken tension, the sparks that have lingered just beneath the surface. But lately, those sparks have started to feel dangerous, like a fuse waiting to ignite. The two of you can’t be left alone for long—what starts as two chairs between you inevitably narrows to one, and then, before you realize it, none at all.

One second you're both rehearsing lines in the studio-b trailer and the next you're passed out on the couch side-by-side. Even though that only happened once, it was more than enough. You've blown through nearly two-thirds of filming the final season and it was easy to consider Drew one of your closest friends, both on and off-set.

There were late-night phone calls, early morning face-times, minimal texting since he hardly replied to his messages but lots of heated glances that shouldn't make you feel as hot as they did. Like right now.

Madelyn is currently removing a piece of lint that had fallen onto your hair from god knows where, meanwhile, you pretended you couldn't feel Drew's deep gaze from behind Madelyn's head, but you shook it off. You had to.

It wasn't long before you're all being ushered to take your seats in the black room, getting ready to record your introduction which will be the only time the whole cast is in the black room together for the interview.

"We're the cast of Outer Banks and welcome to Blackbox." You all say, introducing yourselves personally then retreating to the holding room where there are five chairs, a one-way glass looking into the black room and a microphone.

The assistants spun a wheel which decided that JD is the first one up on the chopping block. "Keep the questions pg-13, please. I've got family that's gonna see this." He pleads, letting himself be strapped into the chair and hooked up with the various components of the detector. Meanwhile, you took the seat in the holding room between Carlacia and Drew.

"So he really can't see us?" Madelyn questioned, waving to JD through the window, but he was unresponsive. "All he sees is a mirror, but when you use the microphone, he can hear your voice in the speakers in the room." One of the cameramen explains and you all nod along.

"Okay, Madelyn, you're first to read the questions. Pick up one cue card from the surface-level, intermediate and invasive stack and project your voice into the mic." She's directed but you all listen for when it's your turn.

Madelyn: "JD, What's your favourite memory from filming season 5 Outer Banks so far?"

He jolts a little in his seat, not expecting to hear Madelyn's voice so clearly in a room where he can't see her, but he answers nonetheless.

JD: When Chase and I were rehearsing that scene where we have to hang-glide off a cliff but Chase's hands slipped and he misses the bar, and he just goes falling to the foam platform like twenty feet below us, but it wasn't even that. It was the scream he let out. I still think about it.

"He's telling the truth." The woman informs.

Chase has his head in his hands while you and Carlacia hold onto eachother, laughing until you're gasping for air.

Madelyn picks up the top cue card from the intermediate pile.

Madelyn: Which castmate are you closest to?

"Oooh." There's a collective sound that sweeps across the studio, it made everyone uneasy, not because of the question. It's a difficult question and everyone knows there are no hard feelings involved but if this is an intermediate question then you should all be nervous.

JD sighs, "You know what-- Unstrap me." He pretends to grab at the wires and it elicits a round of laughs while he thinks about it.

JD: This is hard. I feel like I have such a different relationship with everyone, but..... uhhh... If I had to narrow it down, I guess probably Madelyn.

There's a long silence, everyone waiting for the polygrapher to confirm or deny. "He's telling the truth."

Madelyn: "It must be fate that I'm the one asking your questions. Luv ya. Now, for your final, invasive question. You recently implied in an interview that you're seeing someone, is that true?"

Your hands clasp over your mouth. "Brutal," Carlacia whispers under her breath while you and Drew lean over the edge of your seats as if you didn't already know the answer to this question.

"No." He denies it, another stomach-churning silence. You can see the nerves rolling down JD's face as he waits for the results. "That was a lie." The crew is making some indistinct noise while the cast is stunned to silence. None of you were going to make it out of this interview alive.

JD's head falls with a guilty grin, dreading the news this would spread in the press. He almost immediately unlatches himself from the machine and enters the waiting room with the rest of you, sending in Chase.

"That shit is intense. It's just so dark, and ominous, and you've got a spotlight on you. Makes you feel like you're on trial for a crime you didn't commit." Drew stands to give him a pat on the back, "You did good, man. Hopefully Maya isn't too blindsided by that last question."

Maya is JD's secret girlfriend, official as of last month, you've met her a handful of times but you clicked almost instantly and often texted on Instagram and shared reels.

The game went on, and the questions didn't get any easier. You watched as you all trickled in and out of the rooms, getting paired off in an order something like this:

Madelyn asking JD

Drew asking Chase

Carlacia asking Madelyn

Chase asking Y/N

Y/N asking Madison

Madison asking Carlacia

JD asking Drew

There's an acrylic nail poking your shoulder and you shudder. "You're up," Carlacia informs you and you nearly vomit. The questions have been ruthless thus far, you honestly wonder how and why the producers approved this.

"Hey Madison, this is for you." You hold up your middle fingers, regretting ever letting her get you involved in this bloodbath. She blows you a kiss and wishes you luck.

Chase: "Y/n-"

You're not sure what it is about it, but you and Chase have had enough bloopers on set, that this felt no different, even though you couldn't see him, you broke out in laughter. Before the mic cut out you heard Chase's abrupt laughter cut through.

This is how you two always were. Unable to keep it together. The directors hated when you had a scene together (even though they'd laugh too). "Okay okay, I'm sorry. I'm ready." You reassure, "That was a lie", The polygrapher debunks your confession and it sends everyone rolling for another five minutes due to its spontaneity.

"Okay. For real this time." You clear your throat, waiting for Chase to start with the questions.

Chase: "If you weren’t acting, what would your job be?"

"Ooh, I love photography, my phone is always gonna be in your face, and I've got like a dozen cameras. So, probably a photographer." You answer. The question is light, but it doesn't erase the uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach. "True."

Chase prepares to move on to the intermediate stack of cards, shuffling them, just for fun.

"Here we go," Madison leans over to JD, they both knew there were bound to be some wild cards for you and Drew. Ever since your casting as Piper was made public not too long ago, the fans immediately flocked to find all your socials.

The rumours between you and Drew were already starting to spin. All stemming from one photo added to one of Carlacia's many photo dumps a few weeks ago. The image is of you playfully feeding Drew a strawberry from when you'd all done some sightseeing and visited the local Portuguese farms.

Chase: "Fans noticed you recently reposted a TikTok that said, 'When he’s tall enough to climb like a tree>>'—was that just for laughs, or did you have someone in mind?"

Your hands raise to your face and you scream, Madison screams, JD laughs, Madelyn kicks her feet while Carlacia gasps--Simply put, the cast is overcome.

Drew straightens a little, now more intrigued than ever (as if he wasn't before). His eyes sparkle with hope? Interest? Certainty. A subtle wave of confidence runs down his spine as he confirms to himself that you're talking about him. You both know it, and you've never been so glad that you couldn't see his face.

"My TikTok account is private how did they even-?!"

Chase: "Answer the question Ms. Y/n."

You could hear his smirk through the mic. Oh, he was enjoying this too much. You made a mental reminder to send Kelsea all the worst images that you've taken of him. "It was just for fun," you shrug.

"That was a lie", You knew it was coming, honestly, but at least you tried.

Chase: "You've recently been cast as the lead in a new rom-com called The Love Equation set to release in 2026, congratulations."

Chase prefaces the question with the recent news that was unveiled to the public merely a few days ago. It was a very recent endeavour of yours.

Not long after you started filming for Outer Banks, you'd received a call back from this project and filming was set to start a little after the OBX premiere which is a little less than three months away.

"Thank you, thank you. I'm very excited and grateful for the opportunity." You say, pretending you weren't dreading the question that's soon to follow. Chase's flattery made you nervous, regardless if he was just reading what was on the card.

Chase: If you could pick any castmate to star alongside you in a rom-com, who would you pick?"

Drew's jaw locks at the question. His grip on the arm of the chair tightens subconsciously as he watches your every move. From the way you looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think to your left foot pacing an unsteady rhythm.

All while Madison was watching Drew, a small smile creeping up on her lips. She needed no further confirmation from the two of you, your body language was loud enough. To her, at least.

"Drew." You say nothing more, nothing less. You don't want to fan the flames that fans have already sparked to life from a simple picture. "She's telling the truth." Yeah, obviously, but you don't say that out loud.

The time seems to fly now that your turn had passed and finally, it's Drew's turn. Deep down you've been waiting for this all day, but if you're being honest, you're a little scared for him.

Drew has one of the biggest and most blunt fanbases of the cast. You've seen how they can get sometimes, you've read the TikTok comments and seen the X threads. Hopefully, nothing gets taken out of context or blown out of proportion.

JD: "What’s your favorite way to unwind after a long day of filming?"

His lips pucker a little in thought, and it dawned on him. "I recently got gifted like, an ungodly amount of bubble bath, but I've actually been using them lately. So, I'll say a nice, hot bath, yeah."

The polygrapher confirms that his statement is in fact true and the round progresses.

JD: "If you had to be stuck on an island with one of your castmates for 24 hours, who would you pick—and what would you two do to pass the time?"

Drew fights the grin on his face, "I'd say Chase, we would go hang-gliding-" He's hardly able to get the sentence out before he's interrupted by his own cackles.

Chase adds his own thoughts into the mic, "You know what, Drew, fuck you, okay?" Chase states before returning to his seat while Drew chokes over his laughs to deliver an insincere apology. "That was true." The room erupts with more laughter at that.

JD: "Your final, invasive question, have you ever secretly dated or hooked up with someone from a movie/show you've worked on, including this one?"

The entire studio goes pin-drop silent. Madison's hand reaches out to hold yours, for comfort, or maybe support? Your eyes are glued to the window that shows a nervous Drew, the most nervous you'd ever seen him. He's starting to sweat.

The two of you have never hooked up, but now you're curious. You would get to find out if he's gotten involved with other girls he's worked with before. Was everything he did just an act? Was it a thing he did with everyone?

"I have not." He answers.

There's silence.

The polygrapher is doing it on purpose, you're sure of it.

...

....

........

JD turns around to face you all and whispers, "Guys, I'm literally shaking for him. Look!" He held out his hand with the card, and it showed a true reflection of his words.

"That is..." She drags out the verdict.

The anticipation got so bad you've all somehow ended up standing, you all might as well press your noses up against the glass.

"True."

The cheering is loud when it swallows the holding room. It's almost shameful how much of a weight you felt lifted off your shoulders at the declaration. Drew is the only one to have told the truth for all three questions, giving him 3 points. He wins.

"Now, Drew. You get to ask any co-star any question you'd like." One of the crewmates instructs as they had you all lined up in the room under Drew's judgement. He stalked along, looking everyone in the eyes, yours lasted a little longer than he was willing to admit but he eventually stopped on Madison.

"Madison, Madison, Madison." Drew taunted in the mic and she rolled her eyes with an all-knowing grin.

Drew: "Not too long ago you were disrespecting my childhood delicacy, the uncrustable. Now, there are rumours going around that you've been seen with them lately, is it true?"

Small giggles were let out around the room. Drew is unbelievable.

"Yes." Madison whispers, looking off to the side.

Drew: What was that? I'll need you to speak up.

Madison: Yes! It's true. Satisfied?

Drew: Very. No further questions, your honour.

You all film the closing sequence, reminding the audience the final season will be released on Netflix on August 30th and September 25th, 2025.

You're all making your way out to the cars. The original groups naturally switched up as you all jumped into the car with people you were in conversations with as you left the studio. This time it's you, Drew, JD and Madelyn.

"Wow, that was lowkey worse than I thought it was going to be." JD admits from the passenger seat and you snicker. Without even realizing it, your head was laying on Drew's shoulder, feeling the sleepiness begin to settle in after an eventful afternoon.

"All that drama genuinely drained the energy from my body." You yawn, and Drew subtly shifts so that you'd find more comfort in him, and you snuggle up just a little more. This is a feeling he could get used to.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav

2K notes · View notes