#she convinced him to share his beauty secrets

[spidertroupeart]

I've enjoyed all takes of Mabel and Bill's behaviour towards one another that I've seen

But I think the world would end if they were to become gossip girls and I find that funny

[latenightreadingpdf]

Spencer's Secret - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: All Spencer wanted was to finish his paperwork and go home, but now he’s in a bar, drunk, and confessing all his secrets to Derek.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The team had barely settled back into the office after a grueling case when Derek threw an arm over Emily’s shoulder, talking about needing a drink. Emily agreed with a weary smile, and soon enough, JJ, Penelope, and Rossi had chimed in, all eager to unwind together. Somehow, they’d even managed to convince Hotch, who gave them a reluctant nod, his rare smile hinting he could use a break too.

All that was left was Spencer. Sitting at his desk, he was hunched over, diligently finishing up his paperwork, when Derek strolled over and leaned in with his usual, "Hey, pretty boy."

Spencer looked up, already anticipating the question. "No, Derek, I’m not going."

Derek raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I didn’t even get to ask!"

"Doesn’t matter. I’m not going," Spencer replied firmly, looking back down at his files.

"Come on, kid," Derek urged, his voice dropping to a softer, pleading tone. "Just this once. If you come, I’ll never ask again. I swear."

Spencer let out a sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him. There was a beat of silence as he mulled it over, glancing at the hopeful faces of his teammates nearby. Finally, he closed his file, resigned. "Fine," he muttered, “but just this once."

Derek’s face broke into a grin, practically bouncing on his feet. "You heard him, guys—he’s in! Let’s go before he changes his mind."

Spencer reluctantly stood up, pulling on his coat with a sigh. He glanced around, noticing the others already gathering their things, excitement buzzing among them. As they all filed out together, Penelope slung an arm around Spencer, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"Oh, Spence, you’ll have fun. Trust me," she said, winking.

Spencer managed a small, hesitant smile, wondering just what he was getting himself into. It wasn’t exactly his ideal night out, but surrounded by his friends, he couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of anticipation growing despite himself.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as the team settled into the bar, the weight of the last case started to fade. They ordered the first round, eager to drink, laugh, and let loose for a few hours. The drinks flowed freely, and soon they were deep in conversation, sharing old stories and laughing harder with each passing round. Spencer, who rarely drank, was feeling more than a little tipsy. Nights like these weren’t really his scene—he usually found it far more comfortable to stay home. But now, with the warm buzz in his head and his friends around, he was actually enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, Derek had been off flirting at the bar, but eventually made his way back to the booth, where Spencer was the last one still sitting. Derek, who could hold his liquor well, was only slightly buzzed. He noticed Spencer's dazed expression and grinned, sliding into the seat next to him. "Pretty boy," he said, nudging him, "there are so many gorgeous women here tonight. You should go try and have some fun, maybe even get a date."

Spencer, a little too drunk to filter his thoughts, shook his head. "Don’t need a date," he said, his words slurring slightly.

Derek raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah? And why’s that?"

Spencer’s face softened, and he blurted, “I’ve got an amazing girlfriend at home.”

"Right, sure," Derek teased, not at all convinced. "So what’s her name?"

Spencer’s face lit up. "Y/N," he said, his voice full of adoration. He leaned in, eyes dreamy, and started rambling. “She’s incredible, Derek. So smart, so beautiful. She’s way out of my league—I still can’t believe she’s with me.”

Derek chuckled, noticing just how drunk Spencer was. It was getting late, and he knew Spencer would never make it home on his own. “Why don’t you call Y/N to pick you up, then?” he said, jokingly.

Spencer’s face brightened, and he fumbled for his phone. Derek watched in amusement as he dialed, still skeptical, until he heard a faint “Hello?” from the other end.

Spencer’s face lit up even more. “Hello, my love,” he said, voice thick with affection.

You let out a soft laugh on the other side of the line. “Hey, Spence! Everything alright?”

Spencer grinned, completely forgetting why he’d called. “Yeah,” he said dreamily. “I just…wanted to hear your pretty voice.”

You laughed, clearly touched. Derek, now genuinely surprised that someone had actually answered, took the phone from Spencer, holding it up to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, still a bit skeptical.

"Uh, hi,” you replied, a little confused. “Who is this?"

Derek cleared his throat. “This is Derek. Spencer friend.”

“Oh! Nice to finally meet you, Derek, Spencer talks about you and the team quite a bit.” you said, sounding amused. “I’m Y/N, his girlfriend.”

Derek muttered, “Holy shit, you’re real.”

"Sorry?" you asked, sounding puzzled.

“Nothing, nothing,” he chuckled. “Listen, Spencer’s had a bit too much to drink. Are you able to pick him up?”

You let out a soft, understanding laugh. “Yeah, of course. Just tell me where you guys are.”

Derek gave you the address and hung up, handing the phone back to Spencer. "Your girlfriend’s coming to get you," he said, still slightly in awe that Spencer’s been hiding a girlfriend from them.

Spencer’s eyes lit up even more. “Y/N?” he asked eagerly.

“Yeah, pretty boy, Y/N,” Derek replied, shaking his head with a grin.

Spencer slumped back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “Finally,” he mumbled. “Someone cool to hang out with.”

Derek just laughed, patting Spencer on the shoulder. He sat down with Spencer and waited with him for Y/N to get there, eager to meet her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As Spencer was still happily rambling to Derek about his incredible girlfriend, the door opened, and a beautiful woman stepped into the bar. Spencer’s eyes widened instantly. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, jumping up so quickly he nearly tripped. He stumbled over to you, practically throwing himself into your arms, clinging to you like he’d just found his lifeline. He buried his face in your neck, a contented sigh escaping him.

You wrapped your arms around him, laughing softly at his drunken enthusiasm. "Looks like someone had a good time," you teased, rubbing his back.

“Missed you so much,” he mumbled into your neck, his words muffled but unmistakably fond.

Looking up, you noticed a man standing a few steps behind Spencer, observing the two of you with an amused grin. "You must be Derek," you said, offering him a warm smile.

Derek smiled back, giving a nod. "Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you tonight."

Before you could respond, Spencer had already started tugging you gently toward the exit. You glanced back at Derek and gave him a quick smile. "Hopefully we can actually talk sometime soon," you said, laughing as Spencer clung to your arm.

Derek chuckled, nodding. "I’d like that. Take care of him. Goodnight, Y/N."

He watched as you guided a tipsy, lovesick Spencer out of the bar, a soft smile still on his face. Just then, Penelope popped up beside him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “What are you staring at?” she asked, following his gaze to the exit.

“Spencer’s got a girlfriend,” Derek said, unable to keep a little laugh from escaping as he recalled the whole scene.

Penelope’s eyes went wide, and she gasped, practically bouncing in place. "Wait, what?! Our Spencer? Oh my God, I need details!"

Derek smirked, shaking his head. "Calm down, babygirl. You can interrogate him tomorrow," he teased.

Penelope pouted, but the excitement was already building. After a second, she sighed dramatically, then brightened up again and grabbed Derek’s hand. “Fine! But right now, you’re dancing with me.”

Derek let her pull him to the dance floor, chuckling as he made a mental note to tease Spencer about this night for a long time.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey I hope you've having an amazing day/evening/night. This is my first time requesting something😅, and I was wondering if you could possibility write something like what you did with my type but the reader having natural auburn curly hair, with freckles thinking that she's not his type or something along those lines.

Gold in Snow

Summary: you and lando are in a relationship but you're reserving hate comments about you being a ginger, with freckles because the fans don't think you're his type

Song: Golden Hour · JVKE

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Another podium finish for Lando, another shower of champagne soaking his expensive suit. You watched from the relative calm of the garage, a small smile playing on your lips.

He looked genuinely happy, and that, more than anything, made the constant noise and pressure of Formula 1 palatable.

You’d been dating Lando Norris for almost a year now. A year of stolen moments, whispered secrets in hotel rooms, and navigating the chaotic whirlwind that was his life. A year of pure bliss…mostly.

The “mostly” came in the form of comment sections. Forums. Twitter threads dedicated to dissecting every pixel of your existence and comparing it to the accepted prototype of a WAG – Wives and Girlfriends – in the F1 world.

You were… different.

They’d say it with a thinly veiled, almost clinical detachment, but the message was always the same: you didn’t fit. You were too… ginger. Too freckled. Too… you.

The ginger part bothered them the most. Lando was a global superstar, practically sculpted from marble, with a smile that could melt glaciers. He was everything they wanted him to be: conventionally attractive, charming, and effortlessly cool.

And you? You were… well, very, very pale. Your hair was a fiery halo, and your skin was dotted with a constellation of freckles that bloomed fiercer in the summer sun.

“He likes the exotic look,” one comment had sniped. “She’s probably got a killer tan when she’s not hiding in the shade.”

You’d chuckled then, a hollow sound that didn’t quite reach your heart. Exotic? You’d spent your life battling sunburns and jokes about having no soul.

And killer tan? Honey, you burned so fast, lifeguards would start applying sunscreen just by looking at you.

You tried to ignore it. Lando certainly seemed to. He showered you with affection, praised your quick wit and sharp mind, and constantly reminded you how beautiful he found you, flaws and all.

But the insidious comments burrowed under your skin, planting seeds of doubt that you desperately tried to weed out.

You saw him heading towards the garage now, adrenaline still buzzing through him. His eyes found yours, and that signature Lando grin spread across his face. Your heart did that familiar little flip.

“Hey!” he said, pulling you into a hug. He smelled of champagne and victory. “Did you see that last overtake? Unbelievable!”

You laughed, burying your face in his still-damp fire suit. “Yes, I saw it. You were amazing, as always. Just try not to spray me next time, okay?”

He pulled back, his brow furrowed. “You okay? You seem… quiet.”

You forced a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long weekend.”

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. “Well, we’re flying back tomorrow morning. We can just chill in the hotel tonight. Order some room service, maybe watch a movie?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, meaning it. Just the two of you, away from the cameras and the judgment.

That night, as you lay in his arms in the dimly lit hotel room, the familiar ache in your chest returned. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow… undeserving.

“Lando?” you whispered, the sound barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled into your hair.

“Do you… do you ever read the comments? About us?”

He stiffened slightly. “I try not to. You know how toxic that can be.”

“But you do read them, right? Sometimes?”

He sighed, a heavy sound that vibrated against your chest. “Okay, yeah, sometimes. But I don’t pay any attention to them. They’re just… noise.”

“Noise that says I’m not good enough for you.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours in the dimness. “What? That’s ridiculous. Who says that?”

“Everyone. Online, anyway. They don’t think I’m your type. They think I’m… too ginger. Too freckled. Too… plain.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. “Hey. Look at me. You are absolutely stunning. Inside and out. You are intelligent, funny, kind, and you have the most beautiful smile in the world. And yes,” he added with a mischievous grin, “I also happen to think your hair is gorgeous, and your freckles are like little constellations scattered across your skin. They’re unique, just like you.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “But they say…”

“They say a lot of things. People are always going to have opinions. But their opinions don’t matter. Only mine does. And I think you are perfect.”

He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that chased away the doubts, at least for a moment.

But even as you melted into him, a small, insidious voice whispered in the back of your mind: He’s just saying that. He has to say that.

The knot in your stomach tightened with each passing day, each new photo plastered across social media. You and Lando, laughing at a restaurant, holding hands at the airport, just being normal.

What shouldn't have been a cause for concern, was. It should have been a happy bubble of romance, but it was quickly becoming a breeding ground for anxiety, a place where your insecurities festered and grew.

Because under each picture, nestled amongst the supportive comments and heart emojis, they lurked. The whispers, the not-so-subtle digs.

"He could do so much better." "She's not even his type." "Another generic influencer." And the worst of it? "Ginger + Freckles = No."

You knew it was irrational. Lando loved you. He told you every day, showed you in a million little ways, from the way he held your hand to the way he looked at you with genuine adoration.

But the internet had a way of burrowing into your brain, planting seeds of doubt that blossomed into thorny vines. You found yourself scrutinizing your reflection, picking apart every freckle, every strand of your fiery hair.

Was it too much? Was it enough? Were you enough?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Lando's voice startled you, pulling you back from the precipice of your spiral. He was standing in the doorway of your shared flat, his racing helmet tucked under his arm, a familiar mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"Just thinking about this weekend," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Excited for the snow."

"Me too! Max and Steve are already counting down the hours. You're coming to the slopes tomorrow, right?"

You hesitated. "I… I have something I need to do in the morning. I'll meet you guys up there later, okay?"

Lando frowned, his blue eyes searching yours. "Everything alright, love? You seem a bit off."

"I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just… a doctor's appointment. Nothing serious. I'll explain later. Promise."

He didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to push. "Alright. Just text me when you're on your way. Drive safe.”

He kissed your forehead, the warmth of his touch a brief comfort against the chill that had settled within you and left.

The next morning, the drive to the snow mountains felt endless. Each mile was another step closer to the potential storm brewing in your head.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous, that you were letting faceless strangers dictate your feelings. But the seed of doubt had been planted, watered, and was now taking root.

When you finally arrived at the ski resort, the crisp mountain air did little to soothe your nerves. You walked into the reception area, the scent of pine and hot chocolate thick in the air.

"Name?" the receptionist asked, her eyes glued to the computer screen.

"It's… uh… Y/L/N, party of Lando Norris."

The receptionist's fingers clicked across the keyboard, and she looked up, a polite professional smile gracing her lips. "Ah, yes. Mr. Norris's party. You're all set. Here's your lift pass. Your equipment rental is just through those doors. Have a wonderful day."

You collected your ski boots and poles from the rental shop, the familiar weight grounding you slightly. You'd been skiing since you were a kid, practically born on the slopes.

It was one of the few places you felt truly free, truly yourself.

You strapped on your skis and headed towards the main lift, scanning the crowd for a flash of Lando's familiar McLaren Racing beanie or the boisterous laughter of Max and Steve.

The lift carried you higher and higher, the view expanding to reveal a breathtaking panorama of snow-covered peaks and pristine valleys.

For a moment, the internet, the comments, the doubts, all faded away. You breathed in the crisp air, feeling the thrill of anticipation course through you.

As you reached the top, you spotted them. Lando, grinning and waving, Max, already carving down the slope with reckless abandon, and Steve, carefully navigating the beginner trail.

You took a deep breath, pushed off, and let gravity do its work. The wind whipped through your hair, the sun glinted off the snow, and for the first time that day, you felt a genuine smile spread across your face.

You were good. Really good. You weaved and turned, carving graceful arcs in the powder, your ginger hair a vibrant streak against the white landscape. You glided past other skiers, feeling the rush of adrenaline as you navigated the slopes with practiced ease.

You found yourself on a black diamond run, moguls stretching out before you like frozen waves. This was where you belonged, where you felt alive. You took a deep breath and launched yourself into the challenge, navigating the bumps and dips with precision and skill.

Suddenly, you heard a whoop of excitement and a familiar voice. "Wow, check out the ginger ninja!"

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a couple of guys, clearly impressed by your skiing skills.

You grinned, threw them a wink, and continued your descent, the compliment a small spark of warmth against the doubt that still lingered.

The crisp mountain air bit at Lando’s cheeks, painting them a matching shade to the gaudy orange ski suit Max insisted he wear. He shifted his weight from one ski boot to the other, impatience radiating off him in visible waves.

He’d been waiting at the base of the slope for what felt like an eternity. Max was already halfway up the mountain for his third run. Steve was content to nurse a lukewarm hot chocolate and offer unsolicited advice on Lando’s form, despite the fact Lando hadn't even put his skis on yet.

"She's taking her time," Steve commented, taking another careful sip. "Probably intimidated by the black runs."

Lando rolled his eyes, though fondness softened the gesture. He knew you weren't intimidated by anything. This was more than likely your first time on the slopes, so you were probably taking it easy.

You were a natural athlete, thriving on competition, but you’d also confessed, with a sheepish grin, that skiing looked deceptively easy on TV.

He was about to tell Steve as much when Steve suddenly straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, there's your girl!"

Lando spun around, instantly forgetting the cold, the wait, and Steve’s irritating commentary. He searched the throng of skiers snaking down the slope, his heart doing a little skip. And then he saw you.

You moved with a surprising grace, your skis carving effortless arcs in the snow. Sunlight caught in your fiery red hair, turning it into a cascade of glittering copper. Each freckle seemed to dance on your skin, illuminated by the mountain sun.

He knew, objectively, that you were beautiful. He saw it every day. But seeing you now, flushed with exertion and radiant with joy, took his breath away.

He froze, utterly captivated, as you approached. You navigated the final stretch with smooth confidence. “Show off,” he muttered under his breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You slowed to a stop, kicking up a spray of snow just inches from his boots.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, laughing. You pushed your goggles up onto your forehead, revealing eyes the color of warm honey. "Sorry! How long have you been waiting?"

Your cheeks were rosy, your breath misting in the cold air. Lando stared, speechless.

"Baby? What's wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing with concern. You reached out, your ungloved hand gently touching his cheek. The cold stung, but he barely noticed.

He swallowed, his voice a low rasp. "You're beautiful."

The words were a whisper, almost lost in the wind. He hadn’t meant to say it so abruptly, so…exposed. But the sight of you, framed by the snow-covered peaks, had rendered him incapable of coherent thought.

Your eyes widened slightly, and a blush bloomed on your cheeks, a delicate counterpoint to the healthy glow of the mountain air. "Lando," you said softly, "you okay? Are you coming down with something?"

He blinked, shaking himself slightly. "No, I'm fine. More than fine, actually. You just…you look incredible."

Steve coughed pointedly beside him. Max, having apparently teleported from the top of the mountain, snickered. Lando shot them both a warning glare. They knew how self-conscious you were, especially around his racing colleagues.

The comments section of his social media had been a cesspool ever since you two became public. Hateful words about your appearance, thinly veiled as concerned opinions that you weren’t “his type,” were a constant, ugly background noise.

He knew it bothered you, even though you tried to brush it off with a laugh and a casual, "Haters gonna hate." But he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you thought no one was looking.

He hated those comments, hated the people who wrote them, and hated that they had the power to make you feel anything less than extraordinary.

He took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Ignore them," he said, his voice firm, his gaze locked on yours.

You looked confused. "Ignore who? Max and Steve?"

"Everyone," he said, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "Anyone who makes you feel like you're anything less than perfect. Because you are. Perfect. Just the way you are."

The blush on your cheeks deepened, and you ducked your head slightly, a shy smile playing on your lips. "You're sweet," you mumbled. "But I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea."

"Good," Lando said fiercely. "You're mine. And that's all that matters." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ignoring Max's exaggerated gagging noises.

He pulled back and met your gaze, his expression serious. "Listen to me. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful, or that you're not good enough, or that you don't belong. Because they're wrong. They’re absolutely, unequivocally wrong. You’re amazing, inside and out. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re fiercely intelligent, and yes, you’re unbelievably beautiful. And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you."

A tear, born of emotion and the biting wind, escaped your eye. "You're going to make me cry," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"Good," Lando said, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "Let them see you cry. Let them see how real and how beautiful you are. Don't hide anything. Don't let anyone dim your light."

He knew his words were bold, maybe even a little cheesy, but he meant every single one of them. He wanted you to know, deep down, that he saw you, truly saw you, and that nothing anyone said would ever change that.

Max, surprisingly, had stopped snickering. He clapped Lando on the shoulder. "Alright, mate, enough with the declarations of love. Let's hit the slopes. Before I get frostbite."

Steve nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Lando. You can gush later. Right now, let’s see if your girl’s got what it takes.” He winked at you. “No pressure.”

You smiled, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Pressure is my middle name," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let's go."

Lando grinned, relieved to see the familiar spark back in your eyes. He squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

He watched as you adjusted your goggles and clicked your poles into the snow. He felt a surge of pride watching you. He knew the comments would still be there, lurking in the shadows of the internet, waiting to pounce.

But he also knew that you were strong. You were resilient. And you had him.

He grabbed his own skis, a newfound confidence coursing through him. He would protect you, always. But more than that, he would celebrate you, every freckle, every fiery strand of hair, every brilliant facet of your being.

As you pushed off, gracefully navigating the gentle slope, Lando felt a lightness in his heart that had nothing to do with the altitude. He knew, without a doubt, that their love story was just beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them.

He followed you down the slope, his orange ski suit a beacon against the white snow. He caught up to you easily, skiing alongside you, matching your pace.

"So," he said, grinning mischievously. "Think you can keep up with me, ginger?"

You laughed, a bright, joyful sound that echoed through the mountains. "Try me, Papaya boy."

And with that, you kicked it up a notch, leaving Lando in your snowy wake.

He laughed, his heart soaring.

He pushed off, determined to catch up, knowing that even if he never did, he would be perfectly content just to chase you, forever. . . .

The papaya coloured dress hung on you, a vibrant splash of sunshine in the sterile white bathroom. It was Lando’s favourite colour, or so he claimed. He said it reminded him of McLaren, of speed, of… you.

But all you could see in the mirror was a canvas of imperfections.

Your reflection stared back, a stranger dissected and judged. The fiery red hair, usually a source of pride, now felt like a neon sign screaming "OUT OF PLACE."

The constellation of freckles scattered across your nose and cheeks, tiny sun-kissed stars Lando often traced with his fingertip, seemed like blemishes, flaws magnified under the harsh bathroom light.

The original plan, a simple elegance of no-makeup and loose waves, lay discarded. You'd envisioned a carefree evening, a confident entrance with Lando by your side.

Now, the thought of facing the public, the prying eyes, the inevitable whispers, felt like climbing a mountain of anxiety.

Social media had been a minefield lately. Ever since your relationship with Lando Norris became public, the comment sections had become a breeding ground for toxicity. Most were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating your love.

But a persistent undercurrent of negativity gnawed at your confidence. The "fans," or rather, the internet trolls masquerading as them, were relentless.

“She’s not his type.”

“He could do so much better.”

“Ginger? Really? He's lowering his standards.”

The worst were the comments picking apart your appearance. The freckles, the hair, the perceived lack of "glamour." They painted you as an anomaly, someone who didn't belong in Lando's world. It was absurd, of course.

Lando loved you for you. He told you every day. But the insidious nature of online hate was that it seeped in, whispering doubts in your ear when you were most vulnerable.

Tonight, facing a McLaren party filled with glamorous personalities and industry insiders, the doubts had reached a crescendo. You grabbed a tissue from the dispenser, dabbing at the corners of your eyes, fighting back the overwhelming urge to cry.

The reflection in the mirror blurred, the colours swam, and the vibrant papaya felt like a mocking reminder of everything you weren't.

That’s when you heard the familiar click of the front door.

“Y/n?” Lando’s voice echoed through the house, a warm, comforting sound that momentarily cut through the anxiety clouding your mind.

Panic seized you. You couldn't let him see you like this, a mess of insecurities and mascara-smeared cheeks. You needed to compose yourself, to build up a façade of confidence before facing him.

Quickly, you turned the small lock on the bathroom door. The click was loud in the sudden silence.

“Y/n?” he called again, his voice closer now. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just… just getting ready,” you managed, trying to inject a lightness into your tone that felt utterly fake. Your voice wavered, betraying your true state. “I’ll be out in a second.”

You heard him pause outside the door. “You sure? You sound… different.”

He knew you too well. He always did. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears away. “Just a bit of a headache. Nothing serious.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken concern. You could almost feel his presence on the other side of the door.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice softening. “But don’t rush. I’m happy to wait. Do you want me to get you some water?”

His thoughtfulness, his unwavering care, only made the guilt swell inside you. He was so genuine, so supportive, and here you were, hiding from him, consumed by the petty insecurities fueled by strangers on the internet.

“No, I’m fine,” you insisted, a little too quickly. “Just… give me a few more minutes, okay?”

“Alright,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. You heard him move away from the door. “I’ll be in the living room.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning against the cool porcelain of the sink. This couldn’t go on. You couldn't let these hateful comments dictate your life, dictate your relationship.

Lando deserved better. You deserved better.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on the cold tap, splashing water on your face. You grabbed a towel and gently patted your skin dry, removing the remnants of your almost-attempted makeup.

You looked at yourself again, really looked.

The fiery hair, the freckles, the flaws… they were all part of you. They were what made you unique, what made you you. And Lando loved you for it. He saw beauty where others saw imperfections.

He saw strength where others saw vulnerability. Why were you letting the opinions of anonymous strangers outweigh the love and adoration of the man you adored?

You let out a shaky sigh, a weight lifting from your shoulders. It wasn't a complete cure, the insecurities wouldn't vanish overnight, but it was a start.

With newfound resolve, you took another look at the papaya dress. It shimmered under the light, a vibrant symbol of sunshine and joy. You smoothed the fabric down, a small smile gracing your lips.

You unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out.

Lando was standing in the living room, fiddling with his phone. He looked up as you entered, his face immediately lighting up. He was wearing a simple dark suit, impeccably tailored, but it was the genuine warmth in his eyes that truly caught your attention.

He took a step towards you, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. The smile widened.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice laced with admiration. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blushed, the compliment genuine and heartfelt. “Thank you.”

He closed the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, tracing the familiar pattern of your freckles.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft with concern. “You seemed a bit… off earlier.”

You hesitated, the urge to brush it off still lingering. But you knew you couldn't hide from him. He deserved the truth.

“I… I saw some comments online,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “About… about me. About not being ‘your type.’”

His expression darkened, his eyes hardening with anger. “Don’t you dare listen to those people, Y/n,” he said fiercely, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

“They don’t know anything. My ‘type’ is someone who is kind, intelligent, funny, and beautiful, inside and out. Someone who makes me laugh every single day. Someone who challenges me and supports me, even when I’m being an idiot. That’s you, Y/n. That's always been you."

He paused, his gaze searching yours, making sure you understood the sincerity of his words.

"And as for the… the physical stuff," he continued, his voice softening again. "Your hair is the most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen. Your freckles are like little constellations, guiding me through the darkness. And that little dimple you get when you smile? Drives me absolutely crazy."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough, Y/n. Because to me, you are perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude, of love.

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I love you, Lando,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his jacket.

He held you tight, his arms a comforting embrace. “I love you too, Y/n. More than you know.”

After a long moment, you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you.

Lando was right. You couldn't let the negativity of others define you. You had his love, his support, and that was all that mattered.

You looked at him, a genuine smile gracing your lips. "Ready to go to this party?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Absolutely. And just so you know, I'm planning on spending the entire night showing you off to everyone. They need to see how lucky I am."

He took your hand in his, his fingers interlacing with yours. As you walked out the door together, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And that, you realised, was all that truly mattered.

The haters could say what they wanted. You had Lando, you had your love, and that was more than enough. The papaya dress suddenly felt like armour, not a target.

You were ready to face the world, hand in hand, imperfections and all. . . .

The party was exactly what you expected: loud music, flashing lights, and a sea of familiar faces from the F1 world – drivers, team principals, engineers, and their partners.

The sheer volume of people made your anxiety prickle, but Lando kept a firm grip on your hand, navigating you through the crowd.

He introduced you to what felt like a hundred people, his arm possessively around your waist, his smile beaming. You tried to focus on the conversations, to be witty and engaging, but the whispers seemed to follow you, phantom echoes of the comments haunting your mind.

“Lando’s with her?”

“She’s… different.”

“Not exactly what I expected.”

You squeezed Lando’s hand tighter, trying to ground yourself. He seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, his attention solely focused on you.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice barely audible above the music.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s… great.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching. He knew you better than anyone, and he could see the forced cheerfulness masking your discomfort.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “If you want to leave, we can. We don’t have to stay here.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here. With you.”

He smiled, relieved. "Okay, but seriously, if you change your mind, just say the word."

Just then, a tall, lanky figure approached, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Lando! Mate, good to see you.”

“Oscar!” Lando clapped him on the back. “Good to see you too. Oscar, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar offered you his hand, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You shook his hand, trying to gauge his expression. Was there judgment there? Pity? You couldn’t tell. “Likewise, Oscar. Congratulations on your season so far.”

“Thanks,” he said, his smile genuine. "It's been... interesting, to say the least." He paused, then gestured to a woman standing beside him. "And this is my girlfriend, Lily."

Lily stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. She had kind eyes and a simple elegance that immediately put you at ease. "It's lovely to meet you, Y/N. Lando talks about you all the time."

You blushed, glancing at Lando, who just winked. "All good things, I hope?"

Lily laughed. "Of course! He's completely smitten."

The four of you fell into easy conversation, discussing the season, the pressures of being in the spotlight, and the challenges of maintaining relationships in such a demanding environment.

You found yourself relaxing, the tension slowly draining away. Lily was refreshingly down-to-earth, and Oscar, despite his reserved demeanour, had a dry wit that you found endearing.

As the conversation flowed, you noticed Lily subtly steer the topic towards your interests, asking about your work, your hobbies, and your passions.

She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you, not just as Lando’s girlfriend, but as an individual.

“So, Y/N” Lily said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “Lando tells me you’re a writer? That’s fascinating! What kind of writing do you do?”

“I dabble in a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling your confidence grow. “Short stories, poetry, some freelance journalism. It depends on what sparks my interest, really.”

“That’s amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve always admired people who can write. It’s such a powerful way to express yourself.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “It is. I’m useless at it. Give me a steering wheel any day.”

Laughter bubbled up from your chest, your earlier anxieties fading into the background. You were having a genuine, enjoyable conversation, with people who seemed to genuinely care about you.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise. “Lando, darling! There you are!”

A woman, dripping in diamonds and designer clothes, glided towards you, her eyes scanning you from head to toe with blatant disapproval. You recognized her as the wife of a prominent team principal, a woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper judgment.

Lando’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face her. “Genevieve, good to see you.”

She completely ignored Oscar and Lily, her gaze fixed on you. “And who is this, Lando? A new… acquaintance?”

You felt your cheeks flush, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. You knew what was coming.

Lando’s arm tightened around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “This is your girlfriend? How… interesting.” Her tone dripped with condescension. “Well, congratulations, darling. I’m sure you’re very happy.”

She turned back to Lando, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lando, darling, you really could do so much better. Don't you want to think about your image?”

You felt your heart sink. This was it. The moment of truth. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of negativity.

But then, something unexpected happened. Lando’s eyes flashed with anger, and his grip on your waist tightened protectively.

“I’m perfectly happy, thank you,” he said, his voice cold and firm. “And Y/N is more than enough. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

He turned his back on the woman, effectively dismissing her. He looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still reeling from the encounter. “Yeah,” you mumbled. "I'm okay

Lily stepped forward, her expression fierce. “Honestly, some people are just ridiculous,” she said, her voice laced with scorn. “Don’t let her get to you, Y/N. She’s just jealous.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “She’s got nothing better to do than spread negativity. Ignore her.”

Lando squeezed your hand. “They’re right. Don’t let her ruin your night.”

You looked at them, at Lando, at Lily, at Oscar. You saw genuine support, genuine kindness, genuine acceptance. And suddenly, the weight on your chest lifted. The comments, the whispers, the judgment – they didn’t matter.

You had people who loved you, who supported you, who valued you for who you were, not for who the internet thought you should be.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “You know what? You’re right. I’m not going to let her ruin my night.”

Lando grinned, relieved. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about we get out of here and go somewhere more… private?” He winked suggestively.

Lily laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Oscar, you’re driving, right? I’ve had one too many cocktails.”

As you walked away, hand in hand with Lando, you glanced back at Lily and Oscar, a warm feeling of gratitude washing over you. You had found unexpected allies, people who saw past the surface and appreciated you for who you were.

You were still an outsider, still a ginger with freckles, still not “his type” according to the internet. But tonight, surrounded by love and support, you didn’t care. You had Lando, you had friends, and you had the courage to be yourself.

And that, you realised, was more than enough. The papaya dress no longer felt like armour, but a symbol of your strength, your resilience, and your unwavering commitment to being true to yourself.

You were you and you were happy. . . .

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername and 867,879 others

landonorris

Happy anniversary to my beautiful girl. Two years. Two years of laughter, adventures, and learning to love you more fiercely every single day. I know the internet can be a dark place, especially for someone as radiant as you. Don't listen to anyone who talks about you bad, especially those whispering nonsense about "types." They see a snapshot; I see the whole damn masterpiece.

Your fiery hair is sunshine on a cloudy day, each freckle a tiny star mapping out the constellation of my heart. They don't see the intelligence that sparkles in your eyes, the quick wit that keeps me on my toes, or the unwavering kindness you show to everyone you meet. They don’t see you. You are everything I could ever want, and more than I ever deserve. So, happy anniversary, my love. Let's keep painting our world with joy, ignoring the noise, and celebrating the beautiful, unique you. I love you more than words can say. ❤️

comment has been restricted

[its-avalon-08]

Hiiii ! I don’t know if you’re taking requests or not but I had an idea for a Lando x reader imagine where they’ve been dating for a little bit (it’s still very new) and then one of his ex’s comes back into his life (platonically) and he completely forgets about the reader until someone comments about his getting back with his ex and he realises how much he’s neglected reader. So he has to make it up her.

Angst to fluff please

see me again (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, neglect (GUYS WHY SO MUCH ANGST WHO HURT YOU)

Lando and Y/N’s relationship was still wrapped in the charm of newness. Six months in, everything felt fresh and exciting—every touch, every shared secret, and every stolen moment was etched with the novelty of love.

The mornings were Y/N’s favorite, especially when she woke up before him. She’d sit by the large windows of his Monaco apartment, sipping her coffee as the sunlight played across the harbor. Lando would shuffle out, hair tousled, mumbling something unintelligible about coffee before wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“You’re up early,” he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I wanted to watch the sunrise,” she replied, smiling as he pressed a kiss to her neck.

“I’m way more interesting than a sunrise.”

“Debatable.”

He feigned offense, but the way his lips curved into a smile gave him away. These quiet moments were theirs—a world apart from the public eye and the roar of engines.

It was during one of these serene mornings when his phone buzzed on the counter, the name Sophia lighting up the screen.

“Who’s that?” Y/N asked casually, sipping her coffee.

Lando glanced at his phone and grinned. “Oh, Sophia. My ex. She’s back in Monaco.”

Y/N’s stomach tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. “Oh, that’s nice. Are you two still in touch?”

“Not really. We parted on good terms, though. She just wanted to catch up.”

Catch up. The phrase hung in the air like an unspoken question.

“That’s... nice,” Y/N replied, her tone light but forced.

“It’ll be fine,” Lando reassured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re just friends now.”

At first, Y/N convinced herself it wasn’t a big deal. Lando was an open book, and he’d never given her a reason to doubt him. But over the next few weeks, Sophia’s presence loomed larger in their lives than Y/N had anticipated.

“Hey, love, can we raincheck tonight? Sophia wants to grab dinner, and I haven’t seen her in forever,” Lando said one evening, his tone casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N’s stomach sank. “Yeah, sure. No problem,” she replied, masking her disappointment.

But it didn’t stop there. Plans were canceled or cut short. Lando would come home later and later, distracted and tired. The easy laughter they used to share was replaced with curt conversations, and Y/N felt like an afterthought in his life.

The final straw came when she arrived at the paddock one weekend, hoping to surprise him, only to find him deep in conversation with Sophia by his car. They looked so comfortable together, laughing and reminiscing, that Y/N felt like an outsider looking in.

“Y/N!” Lando called when he spotted her. “Come meet Sophia.”

She forced a polite smile, shaking Sophia’s hand. The woman was beautiful and warm, everything Y/N wasn’t sure she could compete with.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Lando talks about you all the time,” Sophia said, her smile genuine.

“Likewise,” Y/N replied, her voice tight.

----

The invitation had been on their fridge for weeks: a prestigious event honoring young researchers. Y/N had worked tirelessly on a groundbreaking discovery, and the award was a testament to her dedication. Lando had promised to be there.

That night, Y/N stood in front of her mirror, adjusting her dress nervously. She had picked a navy-blue gown that Lando had once said brought out her eyes. She sent him a quick text as she slipped on her heels.

Y/N: Heading out now. Can’t wait to see you there.

But as she arrived at the venue and scanned the crowd, he was nowhere to be found. She sat at the table reserved for her friends and family, her phone buzzing in her clutch.

Lando: Sophia’s car broke down, and I had to help her out. I’ll come as soon as I can.

The evening passed in a blur. Y/N walked on stage to accept her award, smiling for the cameras, but the empty seat next to her screamed louder than anything else.

When she got home, her trophy in hand, Lando was already asleep on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled when she woke him up. “Sophia was stranded, and I couldn’t leave her.”

Y/N just nodded, swallowing her words. What was the point of saying them if he wasn’t listening?

---

Their Friday date nights had been a sacred tradition from the very beginning. It was their way of carving out time amidst their busy schedules. Y/N had planned something special—dinner at the restaurant where they had their first date, followed by dessert at their favorite ice cream shop.

She waited at the table, checking her phone every few minutes.

Y/N: Are you on your way?

No reply.

Thirty minutes turned into an hour, and the once-cozy restaurant felt suffocating. Y/N paid for her untouched meal and walked out, her heels clicking against the pavement as she headed home.

When she entered the apartment, Lando was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” he said casually. “Sorry, I lost track of time. Sophia and I were talking, and—”

“You forgot,” Y/N interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended.

“I said I’m sorry,” Lando replied, frowning. “You could’ve called.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” she shot back, her frustration boiling over. “I planned this night for us, Lando. Not for me to sit alone while you spend the evening with her.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Y/N repeated bitterly. “That’s the problem.”

---

Y/N had been looking forward to their weekend getaway for weeks. It wasn’t anything extravagant—just a quiet trip to the countryside, away from the noise of Monaco and the demands of Lando’s career.

She packed their bags and waited by the door, excitement bubbling in her chest. But an hour before they were supposed to leave, Lando called.

“I can’t make it, love,” he said apologetically. “Sophia’s moving, and she needs help with her furniture. Raincheck?”

Raincheck. The word felt like a slap.

“Sure,” Y/N replied, her voice flat.

The weekend passed in solitude, and the bags she had packed remained untouched by the door.

Each instance chipped away at Y/N’s patience and self-worth. By the time she confided in Alexandra and Charles, she wasn’t just frustrated—she was heartbroken.

The facade cracked later that week when Y/N confided in Alexandra and Charles during a quiet dinner at their place.

“I don’t even know who I’m dating anymore,” she admitted, tears streaming down her face.

Alexandra wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Y/N, you need to tell him how you feel. He can’t fix what he doesn’t know.”

Y/N shook her head. “He doesn’t even see it, Alex. I feel invisible. Like I’m just... here while he’s off with her. And the worst part? I don’t even think he realizes what he’s doing.”

Charles, who had been silent, finally spoke. “That’s not fair to you. You deserve better.”

“I don’t even know if he loves me anymore,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking.

Alexandra hugged her tightly, while Charles looked at her with quiet determination. “Then he needs to figure it out,” he said firmly. “But not at the cost of your happiness.”

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy as she realized she couldn’t keep going like this. Something had to change—because the person she had fallen in love with felt further away than ever.

time skip--

Chapter 2: Cracks Become Chasms

Lando stood near the McLaren motorhome, signing autographs and laughing with fans. It was a typical morning at the paddock, but the air felt heavier today. The whispers had started earlier, and by the time a journalist approached him for a quick interview, the weight of the rumors was impossible to ignore.

“So, Lando,” the journalist began with a smirk, “there’s been a lot of buzz about you and Sophia lately. Fans are wondering—is there something going on? A reconciliation perhaps?”

The question hit him like a brick.

“Uh, no,” he stammered, forcing a chuckle. “We’re just friends.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow. “It’s just, we haven’t seen much of Y/N lately, and you and Sophia seem to be spending a lot of time together. People are starting to talk.”

Lando felt the color drain from his face. “Y/N and I are fine,” he said quickly, brushing off the comment. But doubt began to creep in.

As he walked back toward the garage, he spotted Alexandra striding toward him, her expression thunderous. Her heels clicked sharply against the pavement, each step radiating fury.

“Alex, hey—”

“Don’t Alex me,” she snapped, her voice louder than he’d ever heard. “What the hell is wrong with you, Lando?”

“Wait, what?” Lando blinked, taken aback.

“You’ve been an absolute idiot, that’s what!” Alexandra’s voice rose, catching the attention of several passersby. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to Y/N? She’s been breaking her heart over you, and you’re too busy playing hero for Sophia to notice!”

“Alexandra—”

“No!” she interrupted, pointing a finger at his chest. “Do you know where Y/N was last night? Crying her eyes out because she doesn’t know if the person she fell in love with even exists anymore!”

Lando stepped back, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out.

“You’ve been canceling on her, forgetting her, neglecting her! And for what? To be Sophia’s knight in shining armor? She’s your past, Lando. Y/N is your present! Or is she not anymore?”

“Alexandra, enough,” Charles murmured, stepping in. He gently pulled her back, his hands on her shoulders as he whispered something in French, his voice soft and soothing.

“Don’t defend him,” she snapped at Charles, though her tone softened slightly at his touch.

“I’m not defending him,” Charles replied, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Alexandra’s rage. “But you’re scaring him, and I’d rather he listens than shuts down.”

Alexandra huffed but stepped back, crossing her arms as her eyes burned holes into Lando. “If you care about her at all, Lando, you’d better fix this. Because if you don’t, you’re going to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

The words echoed in Lando’s ears as he retreated to the privacy of his driver’s room. He sat on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands.

Was it really that bad?

He grabbed his phone and opened social media, his heart sinking as he scrolled through countless comments.

@fan1: “Is Lando back with Sophia? Poor Y/N hasn’t been seen in ages.” @fan2: “Sophia again? Guess Y/N deserved better anyway.” @fan3: “Y/N’s been posting about her work, and Lando hasn’t even acknowledged her award. But sure, let’s talk about Sophia’s car breaking down.” @fan4: “Why does it feel like Y/N is just an afterthought to him now? I miss when they seemed so happy.”

His breath caught as he stumbled upon a photo of Y/N at her award show, standing on stage with her trophy. Her smile was radiant, but something about her eyes looked off—distant, hollow.

Lando scrolled further, finding more pictures of her. There was one she’d posted of their planned getaway, the caption reading, “Maybe next time.” It had been liked thousands of times, but the comments told a different story.

@fan5: “It’s sad seeing her try so hard when Lando doesn’t even show up.” @fan6: “He doesn’t deserve her if this is how he treats her.” @fan7: “Sophia’s great, but Y/N is the one who stood by him. What is he doing?”

Each comment was a stab to his chest, and Lando realized with horror that everyone had noticed his neglect—everyone but him.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as guilt clawed at him. How had he been so blind? Y/N had been giving him everything, and he had taken it all for granted. Alexandra’s words echoed in his mind: She’s been breaking her heart over you.

Lando’s chest tightened as his thumb hovered over Y/N’s contact. He didn’t even know what to say. Would an apology even be enough?

time skip --

Chapter 3: Silent Realizations

The apartment was eerily quiet when Lando stepped through the door. He set his keys down carefully, as though afraid any sound might shatter the fragile air of tension. He glanced at the clock—it was late, far later than he’d intended to come home.

The smell of food lingered faintly in the air, but the dishes were already washed and stacked neatly. A plate of leftovers sat covered on the counter, untouched. He frowned, guilt gnawing at him. She hadn’t waited for him for dinner.

The living room lights were dimmed, and his heart clenched when he saw Y/N curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled halfway over her. She wasn’t asleep—her eyes were on the TV, but the blank look on her face told him she wasn’t really watching.

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice breaking the stillness.

She glanced at him briefly, her expression unreadable, before returning her gaze to the screen.

“Hey,” he tried again, stepping closer.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone distant, polite.

It broke him.

Lando stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before his feet carried him to her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to explain or defend himself. Instead, he sank onto the couch beside her and wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her into his chest.

Y/N froze at first, her body stiff against his. She didn’t hug him back, didn’t move, didn’t even speak.

“Please,” Lando whispered into her hair, his voice cracking. He held her tighter, as if letting go would mean losing her forever.

After a moment, something in her broke. Her arms wrapped around him, clutching him like he was the last lifeline in a storm. Her shoulders shook as the first sob escaped her lips, and then the dam burst.

She cried into his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. Her pain poured out in waves, raw and unfiltered, and Lando held her like his life depended on it.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely audible over her sobs. “God, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

Her crying didn’t falter, but he kept going, the words spilling out of him in a desperate rush.

“I’ve been the worst boyfriend. I’ve neglected you, hurt you, made you feel like you don’t matter, and it’s all my fault. You’ve given me everything, Y/N, and I... I’ve been too blind to see it.”

She pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face looking up at him, her eyes filled with anguish.

“You don’t even see me anymore, Lando. I'm invisible to you,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I see you now,” he said, his voice fierce, his hands cupping her face. “I see you, Y/N. And I hate myself for making you feel invisible, for making you question your worth, for making you cry when all you’ve ever done is love me.”

He rested his forehead against hers, his own tears slipping free. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. You’re the reason I smile, the reason I feel grounded, the reason I believe I can be better. And I’ve taken you for granted. I’ve been so caught up in my own world that I forgot how much I need you in it.”

Her lip quivered, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I miss you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I miss us.”

“We’ll get us back,” Lando vowed, his hands trembling as they brushed her tears away. “I swear to you, Y/N. No more excuses, no more distractions. I’m here. Fully, completely, here. And I’ll spend every day proving it to you, if you’ll let me.”

Her arms tightened around him again, her sobs subsiding into quiet hiccups. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to believe him.

“I just don’t want to lose you ever again,” she murmured, her voice small.

“You won’t,” he promised, his lips brushing her forehead. “I’ll never let that happen. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

They stayed like that for a long time, tangled in each other’s arms, the silence now filled with unspoken promises and fragile hope. It wouldn’t be easy, but Lando was determined to make things right—starting now.

--

The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside. It had been weeks since everything had fallen apart, but in the aftermath, Lando had rebuilt their relationship brick by brick. Every day, he showed up—not just physically, but emotionally. Dinner dates, goodnight kisses, endless inside jokes—it was perfect. Y/N felt like they’d found their way back to each other, stronger than ever.

But perfection could still hide lingering fears.

Lando shot up in bed, his breathing ragged, sweat dampening his shirt. The room was dark, the faint glow of the moon casting shadows across the walls. His chest heaved as the images of his dream haunted him—Y/N’s tear-streaked face, her cold tone, and the final words that echoed in his mind like a death knell:

“I can’t do this anymore, Lando. I’m done.”

His heart twisted painfully, and he scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to shake the phantom ache. Quietly, so as not to wake her, he slipped out of bed and padded to the balcony.

The cool night air hit his skin as he stepped outside, leaning heavily on the railing. His chest was tight, his throat dry. Despite everything they’d overcome, the fear of losing her still clawed at him.

“Lan?”

Her voice was soft and sleepy, but it startled him. He turned to see Y/N standing in the doorway, her hair messy from sleep and his oversized hoodie draped over her frame.

“Hey,” he whispered, quickly wiping at his face.

“Why are you out here?” she asked, stepping closer. Her brows furrowed as she noticed the redness in his eyes. “Have you been crying?”

“No, I’m fine,” he lied, his voice shaky and timid.

“Lando,” she said firmly, crossing the distance between them. She placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Talk to me. baby”

He let out a shuddering breath, his resolve crumbling under her touch. “I had a nightmare,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “You left me.”

Her face softened instantly. “Oh, Lando…”

“It felt so real,” he continued, his voice breaking. “You said you couldn’t do it anymore. That I’d hurt you too much, and you were done. I tried to stop you, but you were already gone. And when I woke up, I—” His voice cracked, and he covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as silent sobs overtook him.

Y/N’s heart shattered at the sight. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “I’m here,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “I’m right here, Lando.”

“I was so awful to you,” he choked out, his arms tightening around her. “I keep thinking about everything I did—everything I didn’t do—and I hate myself for it. What if… what if one day you realize you deserve better and leave?”

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her hands cupping his face. “Lando Norris, listen to me,” she said, her tone firm but filled with love. “I’m not going anywhere. Yes, you hurt me. Yes, it was hard. But you’ve shown me every single day since then how much you care, how much I mean to you. You fought for us, and I know you’ll keep fighting.”

“I just… I can’t fucking lose you,” he whispered, his voice raw.

“You won’t,” she promised, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away his tears. “I’m here because i love you. Not the perfect version of you, not the driver everyone sees, but you. The one who makes the dumb jokes, who holds me when I cry, who tries so hard to make up for his mistakes. That’s the Lando I love. And I’m not leaving him.”

Her words washed over him, soothing the storm inside. He buried his face in her shoulder, clutching her as though she might disappear if he let go.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

“You do,” she insisted, pulling back to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re not perfect, Lando. Neither am I. But we’re perfect together, and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded against her shoulder, the tightness in his chest finally easing. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” she replied, holding him close.

They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth under the night sky. Eventually, Y/N tugged him back inside, settling them both on the bed. She kept her arms around him, her fingers running soothingly through his hair until his breathing evened out and sleep finally claimed him.

And as he drifted off, Lando realized that as long as he had her, the nightmares didn’t stand a chance. Being with the woman he loved mever felt more right.

[writers-hes]

t-shirt | c. berzatto x reader

A grey shirt reveals your secret.

gif not mine navigation

It started with small clues that a keen eye should have seen and a sharp mind should have figured out. But then again…it’s not like you were making an effort in telling everyone in the kitchen that their boss and their boss’ business manager was in a relationship. You took over Sugar’s role when it came to accounts when she gave birth to her beautiful daughter. It made the most sense. Save for the fact that you had a degree in business management, you grew up with the Berzatto’s, you were the favourite daughter of Cicero’s friend (which made you his most trusted in that goddamn wormhole of a restaurant), and you were Carmy’s girlfriend.

Bottom line is, you were the most trusted and most capable and—-

“Babe,”

“Hm?” He shuffles from his side of the bed and hides his face deeper into the pillow. 

”You told me to wake you up five minutes ago,” you whispered, chuckling when he threw the covers over his face.

”Five more minutes…”

”But Syd’s coming over here soon and she’ll see you,” 

“Fuck Sydney,” he mumbles, remembering the plans that you and Sydney had today. She was taking you to the best breakfast spot in the city. Carmy pauses and wonders if it would be worth it to disrupt the peace that your relationship had by letting Sydney in on your shared secret. 

You sighed, going under the covers with him. His eyes were still closed and his arms pulled you closer instinctively. 

”Just…five more minutes,” you told him. He smiles sleepily and nods.

He leaves your apartment just less than ten minutes before Sydney knocks on your door. He had to pull your Disneyland beanie on his head to hide his distinctive golden hair and even covered his face with a surgical facemask that you had. 

You greeted her with a smile and told her to go inside. Before you left though, she swore she saw one of Carmy’s coats on your kitchen counter. 

-

Tina asked if you could pick her up on the way to The Bear. The produce that she was able to buy was not ideal for a public commute and you always told her that you’d be happy to accompany her anytime.

”Hey, T,” you smiled, opening the trunk of your car to help her load the produce. “How’s the market?”

”Not much produce,” she frowns. “But I did find these cabbages that we can probably grill over a really creamy sauce,”

”Will you let me taste it?” you asked, closing the trunk.

”Of course,” she replied. You both got in the car and she looked around as you drove out. ”You know, isn’t it the age where you’re supposed to date?”

You coughed, not expecting the question. 

“Uh—I mean, I…I am dating,” you replied. “Just…I’m just not telling everyone,”

”You can tell me,”

”Oh, but the guy I’m seeing would like to keep things lowkey, you know? Like-like not really—“

”I know what lowkey means,” You chuckled at her tone. “But…he’s treating you good? Is he keeping it a secret because he’s ashamed? There’s no reason to, you know? I bet Richie and I will beat that son of a bitch—“

”He’s fine, T!” you laughed. “Thank you, though…for caring but he’s fine. He’s great. He treats me great and-and I’m happy,” you told her. “We just want to keep the relationship between us for a while,” Tina sees the small smile on your face and she’s convinced that you’re happy. 

-

“So, we’ll need 27 more little spoons,” Carmy said, looking at the mathematical equation he just solved in front of his staff.

“58, ba—Bear,” you replied, cursing yourself for almost saying ‘babe.’ “You, uh, need 58,”

“Oh,” he nods, suppressing a smile from your slip-up. He looks at you from his peripheral vision. “Well, she says 58. Oh, uh Y/N? Can you come to the office for a bit?”

You looked at Sydney, as if asking her for help but she just shrugs. 

“Sure, be right there,” You followed Carmy to the office while the rest of the staff looked at the prep for tomorrow. Carmy locks the door and envelops you immefiately. 

“Tina’s been talking about a little boyfriend of yours,” he mutters, his head on your shoulder. “What do you have to say about that, hm?”

“He’s distracting me at work,” you chuckled, running your hands through his hair. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“You'll wait for me?”

“Of course,” 

“Hm,” he hums before completely detaching himself from you. “Anyways, Y/N,” he clears his throat, switching his voice to a more serious one. “I need you to run some spreadsheets,”

“On what?” you asked, he didn’t miss your teasing face. 

“On…logistics. Yeah,” he nods to himself. He mouths “Go” and you nodded, pecking his lips quickly before leaving. 

“I’ll send the files to Sugar and CC you,” you told him before leaving, just loud enough to make everyone else hear. 

Marcus was just about to go to his station when he saw Carmy come out of the office. The head chef was blushing and he was looking at you.

-

It was a busy day at the Bear. There were shipments being made on top of the prep work that they have to do for that night. You were at the dining area with your laptop, some receipts, sales invoice, and disbursement forms. The Excel sheet glared at you from the brightness of the laptop screen. Carmy had kept you up all night last night and the bags under your eyes were proof.

You were taking note of Computer’s recommendations and trying to work everything out when Richie came in. 

“Hey, can you help me with picking out Eva’s gift—Motherfucker!” he suddenly shouted, causing you to look up in alarm. 

“Richie?” you asked, clueless as to why he was having his third meltdown of the day.

“Motherfucker!” he repeated, pointing at you and you looked at him, even more puzzled. The staff came running to him, with Carmy rushing out to see what his cousin was screaming about. Carmy’s eyes widen as he sees the t-shirt that you were wearing. 

“Yo, cousin—“

“Don’t cousin me!”

“Richie?” you asked. Sydney, Tina, and Marcus watched everything unfold from the side when it suddenly clicks. You were wearing Carmy’s shirt. It’s a pretty common shirt, a grey t-shirt with a logo on the sleeve that he’s worn multiple times before. 

“Does your dad know you’re dating this jagoff?” Richie asked, making you sputter the coffee that you were sipping.

“What?”

“That’s his shirt!” Richie points at the grey shirt and you paled, looking at Carmy who was looking at everything but you. 

“The guy that you were dating is Jeff?” Tina asked. “Oh…oh!” she gasps, realization dawning upon her. It now explains why you’d disappear with Carmy to the office randomly or going home together under the pretense that his apartment was on the way. 

“I knew it! It was Carmy’s coat that I saw in your apartment two weeks ago!” Sydney exclaims. “Oh, you’re good,”

“Fine! Fine,” you gave up, playfully glaring at a bashful Carmy. “We’re dating, get back to work,”

“Since when?”

“How did that happen?”

“I’ll answer these questions and then no one’s going to talk about it anymore, alright?” you asked, pursing your lips. “We’ve been…we’ve been dating for two months after I started working here. My father doesn’t know yet nor does Cicero. He’s…he’s uh, been really nice to me since I started so we dated and uh…that’s all,”

-

When the restaurant closed, you waited for Carmy in the passenger seat of your car and you both drove home. When you were about to sleep, you turned to him. 

“You have no help, you know that right?” you teased.

“Sorry…I-I didn’t know what to say,” he replies, the guilty feeling sinking in his stomach. 

“I’m kidding, Carm,” you said. “I’m happy they know,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Of course. I can’t believe Richie was the one who figured it out, though,” 

“Me too…but now I can kiss you more without hiding,” he says, pulling you closer. 

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he nods, inching his face closer to yours. He looks at you and smiles before kissing you. “Good night,”

“Good night.”

A/N: Hope you liked it!

[unintentionalseductress]

heyy ray! first things first, i LOVE your writing. that's all i have to say like i literally go nuts every time

sooo this is not a kinktober request and i know you probably have TOO many things to write lol butttt if it's in your taste i'd really like to see your take on the lads man reacting to their lady not wanting to have sex because she hasn't shaved while being away on a mission or something and is feeling insecure about that ig???

and! if i can ask to be the little moon emoji🌙 then i'd like to, please! as always thanks for all the stories you're aMAZING

Hi there! Yes you can be moon anon. Thank you for the kind words! It makes me happy that people are enjoying my work.

Soooo it's actually such a coincidence that you mentioned the body hair thing because I have a story wip for Zayne involving that particular area and hair 😆😆😆 Keep an eye for it btw!

As for the general reaction of the men, I genuinely think all of them are mature enough to handle a little hair and they're not bothered by it. This is how I think this would go.

Sylus: He'll look at reader quite suspiciously. He knows she's not on her period and after trying to get an answer from her, he'll stop when she tells him to quit asking. For a little while anyway. They have a shared home delivery app and when reader makes a purchase later that night he sees all the hair removal products and instantly makes the connection. He'll seek her out, tell her he doesn't care and that his kitten can't be a kitten if there's no hair on her pussy 🤭. When reader protests, he'll pull her close and tell her he missed her and if it really bothers her, she can get a bikini wax tomorrow. He'll even pay for it, but he's needy for her NOW and nothing in his view can change how beautiful she is, hair or no hair.

Xavier: Will assume she's on her period and brings over stuff for her like tea, chocolate, and some selfcare stuff like scented candles and face masks. Reader will be amused at Xavier's assumption and after a few shy moments, she'll tell him in a very vague way that she feels unkempt and that's why she doesn't want to have sex. Xavier thinks unkempt = hasn't bathed and asks if maybe she wants to take a quick shower together. At this point reader shakes her head and admits that she hasn't had time to self-groom down there because of her mission. Things finally click in Xavier's head and he'll ask if he can look and if he doesn't think it looks unkempt then they have should have sex. Of course Xavier gets pussy drunk the minute he sees it and they end up having sex.

Rafayel: This man will straight up pout if you tell him you don't want to have sex. And he'll try to guilt you as well. He'll say you must not love him anymore or that you're hiding a secret from him. Then finally in exasperation, reader will ask him if he wants to fuck a shag carpet because that's what it looks like down there. And of course Rafayel, with his sarcasm and playfullness will say something like "A shag rug for a pussy? I've never heard of such a thing I have to see it now!" And you'll have to show him before he throws another fishy tantrum. When he looks at it he'll sigh dramatically and say "It's not even close to a shag carpet, you exaggerate everything. Now that it's out in the open, let's just have sex."

Zayne: Without giving too much away from my fic...Zayne doesn't care. He's a doctor. He's seen his fair share of hair on body parts and isn't fazed. Also, the vibe I get from them seems to be more of a long-term couple and they've seen each other through their ups and downs so reader will straight up tell him she feels self-conscious about having sex because she hasn't shaved. Zayne will say he respects her decision but removing the hair can cause ingrowns and itching and he doesn't want her to do it incorrectly in order to have sex as soon as possible. He convinces her that they should have sex at least once before she removes it because there's no telling how she might feel after the exhaustion of removing all the hair. You can remove it on your own time but right now he wants you and let's face it, you've popped pimples off his back and he's seen you trimming your toenails, are you really going to let a little hair stop you from riding this man? 🤭🤭🤭

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[daycourtofficial]

All’s well that ends well to end up with you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 1.5k | warnings: none

Summary: fears and doubts cause you and Eris to do your first irrational act together: a secret mating bond ceremony

Author’s note: happy Eris Week to all who celebrate and to @erisweekofficial for all their work!! I gotta start with my roots and my first post has to be gingerfucker!! I have to give the people what they know me for!! This can be read as a stand alone tho 🫶🏻

You breathed deeply, the chimes of the clock tower drowning out any other noise. Eris stood before you, an immaculate jacket of deep red adorning his chest. He wore a black dress shirt beneath, embroidered with the phases of the moon around the collar. His jacket was a rich velvet, gold thread woven throughout.

It was the perfect way to symbolize your unity. You were not sure who made such a garment, unsure if black fabric was even allowed in the Autumn Court.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care when his soft amber eyes look down at you as he held out his arm for you.

The two of you were in the Day Court under the cover of darkness, a secret mating ceremony. It was truly quite romantic, a tale you hoped to share whenever it’s safe for you to do so.

You had come to visit Helion a month prior for negotiations on behalf of Rhysand. You had asked to come in Rhys’s stead because 1) you also had wanted to peruse the libraries and 2) you were hoping to negotiate a pegasus from Helion.

At least, those were the reasons you gave your brother.

The end of Amarantha’s reign had allowed you to finally see your mate for the first time in five decades, having slipped away to a spot in the woods after Rhys’s return to wait in hopes of just a glimpse of him.

You had waited impatiently, certain that the nerves and anxiety were rolling off you in waves for any nearby wildlife to intercept. It felt incredible to see him again, your face tucked beneath his chin as he held you close to him, his scent burning itself into your memory once more.

His first words to you following your separation were a desperate plea for a ceremony, his pleas soft as he clutched you tightly to his chest.

You knew it was too risky to do it in either of your home courts. Spring was an obvious no, Winter and Dawn were quite risky, leaving Summer and Day as your only real options.

You were quite fond of Helion, and you were sure you could convince him to allow the two of you passage into his court for a few hours.

After he listened to your pleas, he agreed to allow the two of you access to one of his temples for a few hours.

“Not all of us can see so well in the moonlight,” he had told you, letting you know the location of the most beautiful temple in his court. “Only one priestess roams the halls on Tuesday nights. She is quite fond of performing such ceremonies.”

His words were no embellishment. The temple before you was massive and stunningly beautiful. The high arched ceilings with suns painted everywhere almost glowed against the blue backdrop behind them.

You wondered how it looked during the day.

Eris looked down as you hooked your arm into his. You had accepted the bond decades ago, but the two of you wanted to go through with the ceremony. To ensure that no matter what happened to two of you moving forward, whatever happened to your courts, your people, your homes, there was some record with this date and your names on it. Some written record for future generations to find eons later, when the lands look nothing like they do now and the people live lives that resemble nothing like your own.

When the common tongue is gone, replaced with some newer language you couldn’t begin to understand. Your names would live forever within the pages of this temple, tucked away in their recorded archives: the prince of the Autumn Court and the princess of the Night Court, bound together by fate and by their own wishes.

The flickering light from the candles made Eris’s freckles dance across his face.

The lord led you down the long aisle, your arm nestled into his elbow. The two of you moved in tandem, your long skirts kissing the ground as you went, the black fabric turning red as it moved down your body until it looked as if you walked in the flames.

The priestess nodded at the two of you as you approached the altar, your dress’s slight train cascading down the steps behind you. You turned to Eris, his hands outstretched in invitation, pleading for yours to rest atop them. His hands were warm against yours, the familiar heat calming your nerves.

The priestess before you wore all white, a long flowing gown cinched at the waist. It looked nothing like what Helion wore - instead of long, flowing fabrics, the priestess wore a long, tight-fitted dress, long bell shaped sleeves adorning her arms. A white hood covered her dark black hair, and dark hands adorned with gold rings peaked out from her sleeves.

The priestess lit the candles around the altar as you two looked into each other’s eyes, every emotion strumming through the bond between you two, a song you swore you could hear humming through the air and your chest.

She approached the two of you, a golden silk ribbon in her hands. You moved your right hand into his right hand, and he gently scraped his index finger against his palm. She began chanting, wrapping the soft silk around your forearms. She connected the two joined hands, and you squeezed Eris’s palm, offering a soft smile that he returned.

He was captivating in the night, a fire that kept you warm long through a treacherous night.

Her chanting paused as she looked at you, her low voice telling you, “if you wish to exchange any personal vows, now is the time.”

You took a deep breath, turning back to Eris.

Your mate looked back at you, and any nerves you had dissipated as you started speaking, the words coming from your lips as you gazed into his amber eyes.

“I’m not sure if we were ever two separate things, but if we were, if we are, the edges of you and I have been blurring since I met you, our definitions becoming hazier. I am officially laying claim that there is no longer any part of me that hasn’t been invaded by you.

“I have prayed for you in bonfires, in the dying hearths of my childhood. I always viewed fire as a sacred thing, always offering it something so it can continue to burn before me. Perhaps I was just learning how to stoke the flames, or maybe I knew that worshiping the flame would lead me to you.”

His hand squeezed your own, the ribbon not feeling tight enough to truly blend the two of you together.

His eyes shone in the candlelight, his beauty intensified in the flame as if it knew he was kin.

“I have gone by many names. Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn throne, prick, eldest, …. All of those names pale in comparison to the first time you called me ‘mate’.

“That awful playwright who you adore so much put into one of his plays, “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” And yet, he never knew what it felt like to be called ‘yours’, what it feels like when you gaze at me so softly, to see the words ‘mine, mine, mine’ swimming in your irises.

“I do not know where my promises can lie, what I am truly capable of. I do not wish to commit to false promises. Our foundation has always been on feeble ground, and I do not wish to build a mateship on such poor foundations.

“I promise to do my very best for you, every day, every minute, for the rest of my life. I promise that every decision I will make will include you as a factor. As the factor. My life is complicated, as you are aware, but you are not complicated. You never have been. My chest yearns for you, at all times. You have always offered me the peace of familiarity.“

You surged forward, capturing his lips in a kiss before pulling back quickly.

“Er, I don’t care about my name, or my title. None of it compares to being called your mate.”

The priestess looked at you two, probably waiting to see if you would pounce on him right here. Maybe that was how they held these ceremonies in Day. You were sure Helion wouldn’t mind.

“You are bound together, from here for eternity, in perfect union. May the Mother bless you both with endless love and patience for each other.”

The air had a certain crispness to it at her words, the bond humming in your chest with satisfaction, satisfying a yearning that hadn’t let up for centuries.

Nobody could deny either of you the sanctity of your bond anymore.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @panther-girl-124

Thanks for reading ❣️

[rougepancake]

Just My Type

FT. Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, & Giorno Giovanna

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

WARNINGS: Sexually explicit content under cut. Minors and ageless blogs dni. Fem!Reader. Stalking, panty stealing, inappropriate use of stands, pervy jojos, masturbation, accurate to their individual timelines. Don Giorno and Cop Josuke. NOT PROOFREAD!!

SUMMARY: Perv headcanons for the JoJo’s up through part five. Might make one for the JoBros-

JONATHAN JOESTAR

Out of all of them, he feels the most guilt

He’s a gentleman, after all

First it starts out with him eyeing your body, taking subtle peeks throughout the day

It then escalates to him brushing against you gently, and it kills him

There’s not much he can do outside of watching you and getting off to you before bed

SPEAKING OF THAT-

He humps his pillow

God he’s so desperate and needy too

Especially when you have no idea. For whatever reason, it makes his heart swell

But he feels so bad about it. What if you ever found out? What would you do? Do you feel the same way about him??

Once saw you riding your horse and was genuinely never the same after that

There was something about how determined you looked, with that wistful look in your eyes that just turned him on

He’s so down bad that he asked Dio for advice

“Get her drunk and convince her to stay. She’s stupid enough anyways.” “Grope her… duh…”

Dio does NOT give two shits about wether not his advice is legal

However, Jonathan follows through with the alcohol one

It’s his only chance to get close to you outside of studying alongside you

And to his surprise, you come over and share some wine with him

Thankfully, you wind up getting tipsy first, which gives him the chance to make his move

“Ah, y/n. It’s not safe for you to travel back to your estate in such a condition. Allow me to provide you with somewhere to spend the night.”

He lets you stay in his bed, and even convinces you to wear his clothes to bed

Snuck into the room while you were asleep and just watched you

Oh how he wanted to touch you, to feel you, but he couldn’t. It felt like he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you and it bothered him so

Also practically ruined his clothes once he got them back. (Listen man sometimes it’s hard to get cum stains out-)

Dio never lets him hear the end of it and proceeds to give him shitty advice

JOSEPH JOESTAR

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- this man is a WHORE‼️

He has no shame whatsoever and refuses to keep his feelings for you a secret

In fact, you can barely tell if he’s kidding or not when he hits on you

He steals your clothing

Shirts? Gone. Bras? Never to be seen again. Panties? Oh he’ll steal them, ruin them, and then slip them back into your dresser when he’s over

He loves the idea of getting away with it, and it turns him on to know that you’re just as clueless as ever

Slips pictures of himself into your house, leaving them on the counter to make you think of him

Honestly thinks he’s so smooth (Caesar thinks he’s fucking weird)

Has no problem with smacking your ass out of the blue

Also really likes to pick you up and bury his face in your chest

Has collected various photos of you and gets off to them almost every night

Like it’s just a pic of you smiling and he’s hard as hell

While Jonathan whimpers and begs, Joseph moans and mutters

On the loudness scale he’s about 13/10

He does not give a flying FUCK about who hears him

Talks dirty while he fucks his hand, closing his eyes to picture your beautiful face between his legs, smiling up at him

Yeah he likes to take sneak peeks of you in the bath, so what?!

Does all of this with the mentality of “she’ll be mine eventually, so I’m entitled to a head start-“

JOTARO KUJO

Feels a little guilty about it at first, but never feels that way ever again once he gets ahold of a Polaroid of you in a bikini

Carries that shit around with him EVERYWHERE

He has also collected various photos of you, and has a mini photo album that’s dedicated to pictures of you smiling

Sorry but I think he’s into dacryphilia

Sure he loves to see you happy and enjoying yourself, but he just thinks you look so pretty when you cry

He fucking loves it when you come to him in tears, taking it as his chance to wrap his arm around you and bring you in closer to him

He constantly tells you that you’re annoying, but would smash you in a heartbeat

Enemies to lovers bs but he’s in love with you from the start

He prefers to steal your bras over anything else (he seriously has a thing for tits-) and DOES NOT give them back until they stop smelling like you

He also (occasionally) steals your shirts and replaces them with his own. The idea of you walking around in one of his shirts when it’s too big for you really gets him going

Loves to take you out for drinks and then escort you back home

Even better if you’re a lightweight

It gives him a reason to carry you back to your place and tuck you in bed

Once found your ‘special drawer’ while snooping around and fucking stole your vibrator

Granted, he bought you a much better one and snuck it into your drawer, but you were pissed when you noticed it’s absence

He has, and will continue to, use Star Platinum/The World to stop time and get his hands on you

Even if it’s just for a few seconds, he’ll be thinking about it all day

Oh god and Star Platinum loves you too

Grabs and holds you. 10/10 cuddler, even if Jotaro is incredibly embarrassed

You’ve always just seen it as ‘Jotaro’s lonely side’ and nothing more, so you don’t tell off Star

Star has been known to sneak away from Jotaro just to hang out with you

If you and Joot ever end up sharing a hotel room together for any reason, Star will hump you in your sleep

Now, Jotaro lets out low grunts and moans, but is typically quiet when getting off. STAR PLATINUM???? Fucking whimpers and whines like there’s no tomorrow

This man is hanging on by a thread

JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA

Man

On the guilt scale, he’s second place for sure

Feels HORRIBLE

But is also like his dad with the “yolo” mentality

Steals your shirts and shorts, sleeps in them (even if they’re too small), and refuses to give them back

Like your clothes just keep vanishing and you’re like ???

Has used Crazy Diamond to sneak into your place and has no real intentions of stopping

Has a shit ton of photos of you sleeping hidden away in his room

Really just wants to hear you call him a good boy

When he’s needy, he is NEEDY. Humps his pillow, whimpers, whines, the whole ass package

His hand just isn’t enough for him anymore

Unlike his father, he’s not brave enough to get close to you or touch you. My guy can’t even hug you without turning a bright shade of red

Oh and if you come over to play games with him, he’s a total goner

Absolute mess of a man

Can’t do shit without being embarrassed, so he’s a lot less weird than the others

But by god what he would give to hear you call him a good boy

It’s like his one dream

Rohan once used Heaven’s Door on him to get more dirt on him and has (some) no regrets. Will never let Josuke hear the end of it.

“Ohoho you like y/n? Josuke you good for nothing pervert. Give the woman a break.”

Prays that one day you’ll be in trouble and he’ll be the officer sent out to save you

GIORNO GIOVANNA

He’s one second away from going full blown yandere

You can’t change my mind

He’s got everything he needs at his fingertips, and could easily take you away without having to lift a finger

Openly flirts with you, but treats you with such respect that you can’t tell if he’s just being nice or not

Also spoils you

Buys you anything he’s ever seen you take interest in

Even if you don’t really want it, it WILL show up at your door eventually

Makes sure to sign his gifts to you so you don’t forget who it is that’s spoiling you like this

Kisses your hand and cheeks in a way that he claims is platonic

Loves it when you trust him enough that you can come to him for anything. Gossip? Do tell. Something bothering you? Just let him know and he’ll have it all sorted out in no time

I shit you not he makes you sit on his lap while you tell him about your day

You think it’s because the two of you are such good friends, but he actually just loves the sight of you pressed against him

His voice gets higher pitched when he gets off, and he begs a version of you that doesn’t exist to let him cum, pleading with you over and over

Eventually, he’ll start to feel bad about it, but he’d much rather live in the moment

[moonpascaltoo]

james potter

MASTERLIST • THE MARAUDERS • 11/29/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs two

james potter one

𑣲 in another life part 2 I @astonishment

In another life, you and Pietro would have happily spent the rest of your years together. In this life, he died right in front of you. Adjusting to your new world and mourning his loss wouldn't be so hard if it weren't for James Potter; the funny, charming, caring, annoyingly persistent man that looks just like the love you lost.

𑣲 love letters I @amiableness

Y/n starts receiving love letters, and James doesn't handle it well, leading to him writing his own.

𑣲 dad!james universe I @/amiableness

𑣲 kiss and makeup up I @/amiableness

James ruins reader’s date and attempts to make it better.

𑣲 speak up I @mischievousmoony

reader talks very quickly and quietly and often is told that she needs to speak up.

𑣲 haywire holiday I @/mischievousmoony

you have trouble sleeping when you unexpectedly have to share a bed with james on your holiday

𑣲 building blocks I @/mischievousmoony

𑣲 i know you I @/mischievousmoony

𑣲 new romantics I @pretty-little-mind33

When your "friends" play a dangerously stupid prank on you, James is the last person you'd think would help you.

𑣲 afterglow I @/pretty-little-mind33

James is threatened by how good you are at Quidditch which means he hates you. And what emotion is closer to hate than love?

𑣲 timeless part 2 I @/pretty-little-mind33

James wants to take you out to one of his families' fancy parties. However, he underestimates how cruel people can be when someone is different.

𑣲 enchanted I @/pretty-little-mind33

Three weeks after his devastating break up with Lily, James wanted Remus and Sirius to bring him to a muggle bar in central London.

𑣲 beautiful I @sun-kissy

𑣲 in another life I @/sun-kissy

𑣲 sunlight I @/sun-kissy

james is your best friend, and you tell him you love him as more than that

𑣲 request I @ellecdc

𑣲 he shoots and he scores I @/ellecdc

𑣲 bsf!james I @ddejavvu

𑣲 good luck charm I @/ddejavvu

James is convinced that you’re his good luck charm, so before every quidditch game, you find yourself at his mercy in the locker rooms.

𑣲 request I @/ddejavvu

𑣲 my girl I @alwaysmoncheri

no one makes james potter feel the way that his girlfriend does and he definitely knows it

𑣲 roommate!james series I @moonstruckme

𑣲 roommate!james I @/moonstruckme

𑣲 vampire!james I @/moonstruckme

𑣲 short scenario I @curseofaphrodite

where you, the Hogwarts Newsletter editor, wrote a less-than-praising piece about Gryffindors losing the recent match.

𑣲 lifeguard!james I @g1rld1ary

𑣲 don’t want you like a best friend I @moonlightspencie

James is nervous about his inexperience with girls. Luckily he has a best friend who's more than willing to help.

𑣲 do it for me I @morwap

𑣲 bonding I @marauroon

you’re convinced james has separation anxiety. the boy can’t even let you shower in peace.

𑣲 from now on I @rainydayathogwarts

James Potter gives head for the first time, and it quickly becomes an obsession.

𑣲 request I @theemporium

𑣲 teacher!james part 2 part 3 part 4 I @lupinsweater

𑣲 best!friend remus with no boundaries leave you alone with james I @mallowsweetmiri

𑣲 james with american gf hc I @s0urw00lf

𑣲 concussions 'n confessions I @sleepiexx

James quickly realizes his feelings for you— shortly after you’re struck directly in the head with a bludger.

𑣲 something he'd overheard I @/sleepiexx

James finds himself head over heels when he sees you defending a first year student. 

𑣲 one of the guys I @thatdammchickennugget

you have always been one of the guys, but what if you don't want to be anymore?

𑣲 not saying i love you prank I @iamgonnagetyouback

𑣲 awkward dates I @/iamgonnagetyouback

When James stays quiet, too quiet, on your first date, unwelcome thoughts start clouding your mind.

𑣲 animangus!reader I @/iamgonnagetyouback

who he picks up thinking as stray and lets in on a secret

𑣲 genuine I @kquil

your boyfriend finally takes a role who has a romantic interest but his expression is hardly convincing; only you can get a genuine reaction from him

𑣲 did i mention? I @hemmingsleclerc

james declared himself to yn during a quidditch game in the most ridiculous way possible

[amirasainz]

I’m obsessed with this blog so much!!!

What about amira was bored and decided to bake the grid baked good, save to say they are more in love or adore her more

OK.. sooo.... the Pierre and Kika part turned kind of smutty (I loved writing it). I hope you enjoy reading and let me know if you have any requests.

-XoXo

I like you, have a cupcake🧁

It truly was a scene out of a fairytale. Amira, dressed in a beautiful green gown with matching makeup, carried a basket brimming with Ferrari cupcakes. Little did most people know that her true passion lay in baking.

With an exuberant grin, she entered the paddock and spotted Lewis and Fernando. Skipping over to them, she called out, “Lew-Lew, Nando. Guess what?” The two men exchanged grins, eagerly asking, “What?” Amira proudly presented her cupcakes: one adorned with a tiny racing helmet for Nando and another shaped like a car for Lewis. Their awe was palpable as they stared at her creations. “Go on, try them,” she urged, nervously playing with her hair.

After the first bite, the two world champions showered her with praise. With kisses on their cheeks, Amira sought out her other friends. Max, Key, and little P were next. P, with her innocent curiosity, asked, “Aunty Ami, what’s in your basket?” Amira replied, maintaining a serious tone, “Well, my lovely gato, this magical basket holds cupcakes for you, your Mama, and your Papa.”

Kelly and Max, overhearing the sweet exchange, approached. Max hugged Amira tightly, while Kelly planted a brief kiss on her forehead. As she distributed the cupcakes, they all savored the magical treats. Max leaned down to Penelope’s height and whispered, “At least one of your Mamas can bake.” making him share a meaningful glance with Kelly.

After a sweet goodbye and a promise for dinner this weekend Amira ran to Kika and Pierre. Before she could run too far, a pair of strong arms picked her up from the ground. She immediately realised who it was. "Pierre, let me down" she laughed. Kika and Pierre were giggling with her, immediately crowding her against the wall. The two of them really had no limit. After sharing two kisses with Kika and Pierre on the lips, because according to them this is how close friends greeted each other in France and Portugal, she told them a bit breathless about her creation. "Oh Babygirl, you are truly an angel" whispered Pierre in her ear while Kika slowly kissed her neck. Pierre took a bit of the cupcake cream, smeared it on Amiras lips and kissed it off of them. "Mmmmhhh, amazing" he whispered. He held the cupcakes up for Kika, who did the exact same thing. While Kika was cleaning Amira from any excess creme (kissing her breathless) Pierre brushed his hands over her body and kissed her temple.

Before the situation could escalate anymore, the little group got interrupted from Pierre team principal. "You know, babgirl. If you come over to us tonight, Pierre and I can show you the real way to use whipped cream in the bed" Kika said to her with a predatory glint in her eyes. "The real way?" asked Amira naively. "Ohh amour, we have a lot of learning to do."

Amira, having settled down from her playful escapade with Pierre and Kika, continued distributing cupcakes. As she encountered George, Alex, Lily, and Carmen, she offered each of them a sweet treat along with a warm hug, saying, “One for you.” Lily couldn’t help but exclaim, “This girl is too good for this world,” a sentiment echoed by the other three.

Amira followed the same approach when giving Oscar and Lando their cupcakes. However, the two papaya drivers weren’t willing to let her go so easily. They convinced her to play a round of Monopoly, which was really just an excuse to keep her company.

As for Carlos and Charles, after the race, they discovered picture-perfect cupcakes waiting in their drivers’ room. Attached were two heartfelt notes. If the two of them shed a few tears after reading Amira’s encouraging messages, well, that was their little secret.

[sexlapis]

꩜ mine all mine

❀ : toji x female! reader

. synopsis : toji sees the reader’s rare soft side.

꩜ cw : s4w, short fic grumpy! reader, toji & reader are married, toji & reader have a daughter, singing, lullabies

.. wc : 593

-> a/n : i think this is kinda shit & cringe but we go on 🥁. mitski singing in a genius interview inspired this :)

masterlists

*

toji has always known that you were not exactly…a ray of sunshine. sure, he isn’t either, but you are something else. you were not at all mean or unkind in any way but you are crazy, grumpy, passionate…a ball of fire some would say.

a resting bitch face, hot-tempered, unapologetic, loud…you weren’t exactly who people think of when asked to name a gentle, soft woman.

with the continuation of your relationship with toji, you mellowed out. after all, to be loved is to be changed. but you still had your moments (everyday) and you were still a little grumpy, passionate, crazy, rageful person. but toji knows how to handle you. and he knows you to be a loving person.

even with your pregnancy and birth of your daughter, you still kept your personality, not letting yourself lose your sense of identity in the trials and tribulations of motherhood.

toji loves his daughter, mina, the new addition to your small family and he’s glad to be at home, caring for the both of you for six months. he’s convinced this is what he wants to spend the rest of his life doing. living with his two favourite girls and making them happy.

but one thing he has noticed since mina had been brought home, is that you always insisted on putting her to sleep, without fail. you would also insist on putting her back to sleep if she woke up crying (much to toji’s disapproval). and somehow, you have her asleep in minutes.

he knows it is normal for mothers to want to be around their child, but rarely would he put mina to sleep. you would ask (demand) him to let you hold little baby mina and tell him he could go back to sleep, which he does after ten minutes of persuasion on your end.

toji knows you’re not telling him something, though he does not think that it's a deep, dark secret.

so one night, after you and toji go to calm a fussing mina and you telling (ordering) him to leave, he stands outside with his ear pressed to the door, listening in.

what he hears surprises him greatly.

you were singing.

grumpy, angry, hot-headed you was singing.

your sweet, soft voice billows throughout the room.

‘cause my love is mine, all mine

i love, my, my, my

nothing in the world belongs to me

but my love, mine, all mine, all mine…

toji hears mina’s crying quieten, hears he little babbles and giggles, and then silence. now toji knows how you get little mina to sleep. you beautiful voice soothes her, lulling her into a deep sleep.

despite what others may think about how ‘unsuitable’ your personality was, you were a good mother, a kind and loving soul, perfectly compatible with your daughter.

toji quickly and quietly returns to your shared room, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. he didn’t want you to know he overheard your sweet melody. you were like a cat, if he startled you after that intimate moment, you would most definitely get angry and embarrassed and probably never do it again.

you walk into the room, satisfied yet tired. it was 3am and you just wanted to sleep.

toji opens the covers for you to climb into and you curl up in his big frame, laying your head between his chest. he holds you close, kissing your forehead to say goodnight. you’re snoring within two minutes and he admires your stupid drooling face, absentmindedly stroking your temple.

toji will keep this newfound secret to himself.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

You know, it would be interesting for me to read the gloomy Disney characters. By the type that the Reader accidentally enters the Disney world. Or is already in this world. For example, a man! The Evil Queen× reader. Just imagine that the mirror says that the most beautiful is the reader and the man!The evil Queen was interested.. Well, or dark! A man!A Disney princess who believes in love and believes that the reader is his true love and that the reader should belong only to him.

Sorry for the bad English

Don't apologize

You're perf, babes

Yandere!Genderbent!Evil King x GN!Reader x Yandere!Genderbent!Snow White

CW: Death, obsessive behavior

"Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" The vain king asked his enchanted mirror as he often did whenever his pride was wounded. King Hadewig was the envy of men and women. Cold and beautiful, his features were cut like an ethereal ice sculpture. Intelligent, talented, and ruthless, most everyone either wanted to bed him or be him. However, his power was not guaranteed for long.

Hadewig was King only by responsibility, and not by actual title. His title was, legally, Prince Consort. He married his, now deceased, wife when he was a young bachelor, and she was the only eligible bachelorette of suitable status as a widow. Being so much older than him, it was an "unfortunate", but not "unsurprising" passing of the crown when the Queen died and left her son in Hadewig's care.

The only reason the child wasn't immediately crowned king was because of Hadewig's charm and influence, convincing the court that the young Prince Snow was too irresponsible to rule the country. But it was difficult to continue that lie going, even with Hadewig purposely keeping Snow ignorant of his future kingly duties by treating him as a servant, for now the boy was twenty years of age, and truly should have not only been coronated years ago, but also wed off to the available princess of the neighboring kingdom, a woman as old as Hadewig.

But his potential loss of power wasn't the reason for his low self esteem that day.

"You are, my king. There is one who approaches, but does not yet share with you what makes you fair."

The king slumped in his seat in an uncouth like manner. "Then why does my hunter not look at me like a man?"

King Hadewig's personal hunter, an immensely talented killer that didn't just slaughter animals for the king. And the only person who simply looked at the king. Nothing Hadewig did could change the professional look on (Reader's) face during their meetings. No matter how charismatic he was with his words, how stylish his clothing was, nor the love potions he attempted to spike (Reader's) drinks with, they were seemingly immune to every one of his attempts. In their most recent meeting, the one that left Hadewig depressed, he had offered his hunter a glass of wine, which they turned down, stating that the last drink they had received from the king did not agree with them.

"I can not tell you that, my lord. I only can report what I see, so unless your hunter speaks their secrets out loud while I spy, I am blind to their feelings for you."

Hadewig groaned, upset and broken hearted.

"Show me my hunter, again."

The face in the mirror melted, dissolving into an image of (Reader) leaving the castle. Their strong frame sent shivers down the icy man's spine. His first and only marriage was one of political importance, with no love or warmth between the husband and wife. But in the presence of his Mx. Hunter, the king was set ablaze. The intense feeling of heat was dowsed when he witnessed the bastard he hated most in the world approach his hunter.

At the steps of the castle, Snow had been timidly watching the triumphant hunter from afar, gathering the courage to approach them. He had never known shame, never feeling any sort of embarrassment about the state of his dress, but in the presence of the person who always smelled faintly of iron, he was reduced to two inches tall.

Stepping lightly like a mouse, the short adult snuck up behind (Reader), still debating whether or not he was actually going to announce his presence.

His decision was made for him, however, being noticed by (Reader) almost immediately.

"Good afternoon, your highness." They said, turning sharply on their heel to face him.

The hunter was the only person to address the prince by his royal status.

"Ah- how did you know it was me?" He asked incredulously. A pink blush warmed his entire head, wrapping around the back of his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

"Because I could hear you." (Reader) offered a kind smile to the shy, younger man. They felt sympathy towards him, with the way his cold step father treated him. With what they had done to him.

Snow was impressed by how cool (Reader) was. And a small part of him wished to impress them as well. He tried to straighten out his worn out rags. "What brings you to the castle today?"

"To gift the king a wolf pelt. And also," (Reader) reached into their pouch, pulling out a pressed flower, "to gift you this."

The prince sucked in his gasp, wide eyed and lips pressed tight.

"I apologize for not finding something better for your highness."

"No!" He panicked, grabbing the flower with both hands. "It's beautiful!"

He hadn't received a gift since the passing of his mother.

"Happy Birthday, your highness." (Reader) bowed, then turned swiftly, leaving the young man hyperventilating and sweating.

Only the king and his mirror heard Snow whisper long after (Reader) left: "I love you."

Three days later, and the king was losing his mind over the interaction. Snow was visibly taller, standing straighter as he worked, singing as he cleaned the castle grounds, and it was bothering him.

Hadewig kicked over his chair in frustration. "Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

"The one you fear is getting stronger, the confidence has warmed his winter, and people shall notice his spring awakening. The prince now glows more brightly than you, whose anger has etched lines of hatred into his ice like face."

King Hadewig released a scream, losing his control before quickly sharpening back up, running his hands through his messed hair.

He left his study, storming over towards a frightened servant.

"Send for my hunter."

Before (Reader), the king was disheveled, worrying (Reader) something awful.

"I can not stand for this disrespect any longer." His gaze read cold and cruel as it pierced the hunter's. "You understand that you are mine, correct?"

(Reader) thought about the flower and felt a wave of anxiety. "Yes, your highness."

"You understand that you belong to me?"

"Yes, your highness."

He sighed ever so slightly, before retrieving a wooden box from his desk. "I have another assignment for you.

Kill my son."

Nausea threatened to erupt from the seasoned murderer. "My lord?"

"Take him deep into the woods, and bring me back his heart." He held out the box. It was a test, as though (Reader) hadn't proved their loyalty to the mad man enough.

The empty box was heavy in (Reader's) hands.

"As you wish, your highness."

Prince Snow spun in the field of flowers as he searched for the most beautiful flowers for the hunter. It was the best day of his life! His father had given him a colorful outfit that fit him and the hunter had asked him out on a date! Well, they didn't call it a date, but what else could it have been?

He wove a crown for (Reader) while imaging their wedding day, becoming King and Royal Consort and having a real crown placed on their head.

(Reader), however, was weighing their options, not truly paying attention to the prince, and trying to ignore his childlike excitement.

What would the king do, if he was made a fool?

"Oh, hunter!" Snow ran over, holding out the delicate crown. "I made this for you! May I?"

And that was all it took, for (Reader) to spare his life.

They bent down, feeling the weight of the crown on their scalp. It smelled nice. Before Snow could retreat, (Reader) wrapped their arms around his thin waist. They had killed so many people before, but this was only the second time they felt unbearable guilt.

The first was after they took the life of the Queen.

"(Reader)?" Snow stuttered out, feeling weak in their strong arms.

"You must run, your highness." (Reader) whispered into his ear.

"What?"

"The king has ordered me to kill you. So please, run. Far away, into the woods." They released the prince, and it was only then that he noticed the heavy bags under their tired eyes.

"Why? I don't understand-"

"Leave. It won't be long before that witch discovers my lie."

Snow fell to his knees, holding onto the edge of (Reader's) shirt for dear life, falling apart in front of them. "Please, no! Come with me! If he would kill me, what would he do to you for sparing me? Please, run away with me!"

(Reader) bent down to release his fingers from their hem, planting a kiss on his forehead as they did so. "I hope when I meet you again you will have found a name more worthy of such a warm and kind person. For as of this moment, Prince Snow is dead."

Excitement threatened to crack the King's cool demeanor as he observed the bloody heart in his hands. (Reader) was distant, but that didn't matter to Hadewig, for now there was no competition for his hunter's affection. They would soon be his, even if he had to use force to make it so.

"Excellent work, my faithful hunter." He offered a practiced smile, unnerving (Reader) who prayed that the pig heart made a convincing decoy. At least until they could escape and hide out in the mountains, far away from the King's eyes.

(Reader) gave a deep bow. Then they left, calmly getting on their horse, and leaving, not taking a single glance behind them as they sped off, emergency bag already packed on their steed.

Back in Hadewig's room, he caressed the box affectionately, thinking about his lovely hunter. The stress had certainly caused a frown line, just as the mirror said, but he was working at reversing the damage.

"Magic Mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" He dreamily asked, slightly nervous that the rage had permanently ruined his perfect face.

"Hiding deep within the woods, tending a wounded heart, the fairest in the land hides. Prince Snow still lives."

The king scoffed. "I have his heart right here, mirror."

"No, within that box lies the heart of a pig."

The box fell from Hadewig's hands. "A pig..?" His face scrunched up painfully. "(Reader) would never betray- they belong to me! ME! Guards! Where is my hunter?!"

"The hunter is flying towards the mountains, away from the woods they released the prince into."

Hadewig collapsed at his desk, screaming in agony while pawing at his chest. "No! It's all his fault! Find me that little bastard- I'll kill him myself!"

The seven dwarven women listened to the young man recall his tale of woe, his eyes full of tears but a smile still on his lips. "So, if you please, could I stay here? Just until my love returns for me."

Happy sighed dramatically, blushing and twirling her beard. "That (Reader) is so brave~"

Grumpy smacked the back of her head. "That double crosser may have saved the prince, but that doesn't mean they won't double double cross him!"

Bashful stomped a foot. "It's true love! They would never!"

"Well, they never confessed their feelings," Doc said while cleaning her glasses, "they could have saved Snow out of the goodness of their heart."

Snow smiled, trying to calm the fragments of his heart. "I have to believe, to hope, that (Reader) loves me as I love them. To risk death for me.. but, they said we would meet again. And I trust them."

It was painful, knowing that his father wanted him dead, but what was worse was hearing that (Reader) had put their life in danger for him. Despite all the pain and punishment Snow had endured, he never held it against his step father, but now..

A dark, bitter seed had been planted.

And throughout the night as the household slept, Prince Snow could feel it grow, threatening to burst forth from his chest. The dwarven women were so kind to him. So inviting, and trusting.

He wondered what else they would do for him.

The dark haired man knew that the apple was poison from the moment it was placed in his hands. What kind of elderly man would be this far out away from any sort of town, especially if they were traveling to sell produce? He didn't know who the old man was, but knew that he must have been in cahoots with the king.

"Oh, I don't have any money." Snow said quite sadly, placing his head in his hand.

"For such a lovely young man? Free of charge."

"Are you sure?"

The old man was certainly no real beggar. Nothing made sense. It was cruel, what Snow thought to do, especially if he was wrong, but in case he was right.. Snow whispered to a bird before smiling brightly at the stranger, taking the apple in both hands.

"Of course, please take it!"

Snow bit into the fruit, but did not swallow, hiding the chunk in his hand. After a few seconds of pretending to chew, he collapsed, holding his breath.

The king almost immediately dropped his disguise, snarling. His once similarly raven hair had a stripe of grey.

In a voice barely louder than a huff, he said "It serves you right, you filthy bastard. I would have let you live, if you had simply left my (Reader) alone."

He exhaled. There was no movement from the floor.

"Are you dead yet? Can you still hear me? I hope you can." The king smiled. "I hope you can hear me from beyond the grave as I finally get my happily ever after."

But as he celebrated the dwarves rushed home from work, and a small bird was rallying forces to find the hunter and lead them to Snow's body.

As he monologued to what Hadewig assumed was his son's corpse, the women returned from the mines, righteously horrified and armed with pickaxes.

Hadewig heard a woman shout "Grumpy, don't!" before a pick connected with his lower back, piercing his organs from behind.

The pain was excruciating, sending fire up his body as blood poured out of him. He imagined (Reader's) face, finally smiling for him as they cradled him in their arms, accepting his love. Hadewig wanted that to be the last thing he saw before he died.

Instead, he witnessed Snow, smiling up at him from the floor.

(Reader) arrived just a moment too late, having been closer than they had expected due to how deep into the woods Snow had traveled. They witnessed the sobbing dwarves sitting at the door, too upset to enter their own home where the young prince they tried to rescue lie dead.

The hunter pushed passed them, not wasting a second to grab the young man. He was still warm, but wasn't breathing.

Snow kept his eyes closed as he felt the worst pain he had ever known.

(Reader's) hands slammed into Prince Snow's chest. A rib cracked under their strength, but Snow refused to show it.

Then their lips pressed against his.

His nose was held shut as (Reader) forced air into his throat, trying to get him to wake up. They continued the repetitions a medicine man had taught them while blowing air into his lungs.

"God damnit, Snow, wake up!"

They leaned in, and felt him breath against their mouth. His large brown eyes fluttered open, and his face reddened.

His lips curled into a weak grin. "You came back for me.."

Guilt washed over (Reader), hugging him tightly to their chest. "I'm sorry I left, Prince Snow."

Warm hands ran through (Reader's) hair. "Please.. Call me Theros."

The regret and pain kept (Reader) still, allowing the recently "revived" prince to pull them in for a kiss.

After all that (Reader) put him through, a kiss was the least they could do.

But for the born again man, it was just the beginning.

[malvolios-yellow-stockings]

fellas is it gay to be a directionless lonely insomniac approaching your 30s without having accomplished heterosexual milestones of settling down and having kids and also not having an outlet to exorcise your feelings of loneliness, shame, dejection and inadequacy, being a faceless consumer in the age of neoliberal hegemony who is unable to form meaningful human connections or feel pleasure in any meaningful capacity. is it then gay to only be vulnerable in support groups where others believe you are dying or seriously ill, in groups where you are frequently embraced by other men who share your sense of urgency, in the only context where everyone can get over being temporarily embarrassed and ashamed of their flood of emotions?

is it then gayer that this scheme you built for yourself is obstructed when a woman disrupts the all-male group you go to and that woman is everything you don't want yourself to be - a "weak person", outwardly self-loathing and ironic, painfully self-aware, lethargic and hysterical at the same time, undoubtedly feminine and carelessly vulnerable and only violent towards herself, never others (maybe that she’s free in all the ways you are not)? is it gayer still that this disruption triggers the appearance of another "man" in your life who is your own edgy, idealised version of maleness, masculinity & manhood. (is it gay that you show your anger and jealousy towards this woman, expressing your distaste by saying “if only i had wasted a couple of minutes and gone to watch marla singer die and none of this would’ve happened” after your idealised man saves her from suicide and has sex with her very loudly so you can hear (“i could’ve moved to another room… where i might not have heard them. but I didn’t”?) Is it gayer still that you reject her advances multiple times later on while loudly expressing your disinterest in her sexually)

fellas is it gay that this man turns your life upside down, convincing you to found a club that by definition and principle excludes women (“it’s for men only”), where men intimately fight underground, in a dark basement on an increasingly regular basis and where your fighting partner is almost always different every time, where you recognize each other in the wild but are instructed not to be publicly open about your membership to this secret fraternity of sorts (almost resembling the dynamics of gay cruising and hook-up culture)? is it gay that your previous need to be embraced by men in a no-questions-asked context is replaced by the same but different mechanism/ritual, this time with expected, welcomed and consensual violence intricately tying your idea of freedom and therefore pleasure with pain? fellas is it gayer still that the guy who taught you to embrace and overcome that pain lives with you and kisses your hand before leaving a chemical burn there in a shape suspiciously resembling lips?

is it gay to semi-ironically describe your co-habitation with him as married life, comparing yourselves to ozzie and harriet while tying this guy's tie, this action making you the (house)wife of the pair, then later on basically imagining that he slaps your ass after handing you beer to serve other men with? is it really gay that you get jealous of the two people this idealised man you live with shows deference to interest in? first the woman you yourself previously showed no (outwardly sexual) interest in and who was established as a kind of a rival (wherein it was impossible for both of you to be satisfied in the same way at the same time, who invades your power animal coping mechanism sequences, and whom you later embrace as an ally and quite possibly a part of yourself) and then another guy whom you then monstrously, savagely beat after feeling an "inflamed sense of rejection" and explain ruining his body by saying you “felt like destroying something beautiful"? fellas is it gay that this idealised confident man dresses eccentrically and flamboyantly, accessorises rings and big colourful fuck-you-glasses, mesh shirts etc. going against the subdued yuppie masculinity of corporate male America, who is free in all the ways you aren't and who spews (and seduces you with) anti-social undercooked anti-capitalist rhetoric and pseudo-scientific cool guy bullshit which goes against mainstream society bro!, who uses his job/pass time as a projectionist to smuggle pornographic imagery into family films (and who represents your own violent subconscious lurking in you in the form of a penis appearing for less than a second right at the end of the film?) and who tells you that maybe neither of you need women in your lives, while you discuss your absent father figures. is it gay when he spits his own blood into the mouth of a presumed gangster telling the gangster "you don't know where i've been lou" in a time where the impact of AIDS is looming large and heavy over everyone, but is inextricably tied to gay/queer men and IV drug users?

is it gay (of the repressed, self-hating variety) to create a whole fella you can pine after and effectively beat yourself up after he picks you up to live with him and punch the lights out of another dude you recognize is beautiful because the imaginary best boy friend you created in your head, that being you, has possibly experienced homo lust which is becoming increasingly hard to suppress?

and fellas is it gay to want to be tyler and want him at the same time?

is it also gay when... [gunshot]

[kelstey]

i waited

theodore nott x reader

warnings : none

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

theo kissed your forehead, both you bodies sticky and sweaty from the moments prior. you smiled to yourself as his muscular arms made their way around you.

"i don't think i'll ever get over how beautiful you are," theo ran his fingers through yourhair.

"thank you, theo," you turned your head and kissed his lips.

your happiness was quickly replaced by a sudden wave of what felt like guilt and shame.

the two of you had always been close, sharing kisses, looks, even touching when no oneelse would be looking. that part killed you.

no one knew. not even pansy and luna. given, luna may not be accepted by a large majority of slytherins but you couldn't help but love her, she was amazing and understood you in a way no one else did.

that's how private the two of you had decided- well improvised on. you wanted to show him off. you wanted to kiss him before class, hold hands when sat next to each other, dance in front of everyone, everything.

but he didn't want that. he liked the privacy. but you were never sure if that was really a cover for simply using you.

but you let him.

"i should get going, i'm going out with luna to the three broomsticks," you moved out of theo's arms and started picking up the clothes that were discarded all over the room after theo ripped them off of you.

"tell her i said hi," theo said, another thing that you liked about him. he liked luna. but he was partially stupid as you couldn't tell luna that he said hi, she would ask questions as to why he would even do that.

"i think you forgot we are a secret," you put your tights on.

"fuck, yeah. well- have fun then," theo waved and you hurried out, still attempting to tie your tie.

you felt the tears coming. you couldn't help it. you felt idiotic to allow theo to walk all over you. you promised yourself you would never let a man take you for a fool, but no. here you are, years later, being taken as a fool by a man you were in love with.

obviously he didn't know, he couldn't. it would ruin everything.

the two of you agreed to strictly have just sex. just sex. just stupid fucking amazing sex. he was a natural at it, he knew how to make you cum in minutes. he had you wrapped around his finger.

you typically wouldn't let anyone see or touch you, but theo? he could do anything and you would let him. it also felt like a weird bonding experience.

sex is intimate, of course. it's the closest two souls can get to each other. and you were convinced that the countless amount of times you did it in a day with him made some sort of connection.

you wiped your tears away as you entered the three broomsticks and saw luna sat alone in your usual corner. "luna!"

"you're here!" she exclaimed and got up out of her seat to hug you.

"of course, you know i love our chats here," you smiled and the two of you sat down.

"are you okay?" she asked as she observed the mascara which was evidently smudged under your eyes.

you had to tell her. you had to tell someone. there's no one you would rather tell than her. "luna, please, pinky promise me you won't ever tell a soul."

she nodded, "your secret is safe with me. you know that."

you looked around the place, only noticing two other tables of people who seemed to be in their own little worlds. "okay, me and theo have been hooking up. like friends with benefits style, but i'm in love with him. i cant keep doing this. it hurts, luna. i want to love him and kiss him around our friends but i can't."

luna sat and listened to you ramble on, a few tears shedding in the process. "that's horrible. but you must know, no man, especially one who you aren't even dating, should ever make you feel this way. the right one will make you cry only tears of happiness and pleasure, if you know what i mean."

her comment made you laugh, this was why you loved her. "thanks lu. sorry about that rant, i haven't told anyone and so feel special you're first to hear about this fucked up situation."

"i'm glad you can trust me, but i think i may have an idea," luna sat upright. "how about you stop meeting him so often? maybe start seeing him once a day; then once every few days. if you want to take it a step further you could even start hanging out with another boy more."

"luna you're a fucking genius," you reached over and hugged her.

"you know i always have the best ideas," she giggled.

just then the door opened and luna's eyes focused behind you, as your back was turned to the door.

"who is it?" you asked as you noticed her smile had dropped.

"don't turn around if you don't want to cry," she said and you immediately turned your head 180°.

"no fucking way," your jaw dropped as you saw theo walk in with cho. "is he fucking shitting me right now? luna tell me i'm dreaming. tell me."

"i'm sorry, babe. do you want to go somewhere else?" she asked.

"yes it is best we go. i don't think i'll be able to hold back a fucking fist in both their stupid faces," you both got up.

and as for your amazing luck, they both spotted you and luna. theo called out your name and walked over to you. "hey, what's up?" he asked with a stupid smile on his face as if he didn't know what he was doing.

"hey theo," luna gave a small wave and he smiled at her.

"we were just leaving," you said and took luna's hand and the two of you walked out. you heard theo say something but you were too distracted by the ringing in your ears.

"it's okay, it's okay," luna engulfed you into a very big, very needed hug.

"why would he do that? i literally told him i was going to be here with you?" you cried into her arms.

"he's a boy, they don't think with their brains, only their dicks."

-

it had been a few days since the incident and you still had not spoke to theo. you were going out of your way to ignore him, not caring if it hurt you more than him.

you would spot theo in the halls, once he noticed you, you had already turned around and walked the complete opposite way before he even got a chance to call out your name.

it hurt too much. it didn't help that after those first couple of days, he eventually stopped trying to get your attention. instead he was being all handsy with cho.

it killed you, hardly being able to speak or react. it also hurt that you had to distance yourself from the other slytherins who noticed the lack of your presence.

but it wasn't all too bad, instead of hanging with them you and luna started hanging out more. she would check up on you constantly, making sure to cheer you up to avoid you thinking about him.

she knew you were deeply upset about it. she allowed you to grieve, cry and let all of it out. she herself had never experienced this type of hurt, but she was almost grateful as she saw how badly it impacted you.

aside from not speaking to theo, you kept your head up high. you still went to class, still did your work, still sat at the slytherin table for meals. everyone noticed the tension between the two of you.

no one asked, or at least in front of your face. they decided it was better to keep quiet and try keep things as normal as could be.

amongst those few days of hurting, you started growing closer with mattheo. he was also there for you, he wasn't sure exactly what happened with theo but he knew it was hurting you and so he decided to be there for you.

he also had to admit that it was also due to the fact that he fancied you. you began sitting next to him at meals, class, even sometimes being spotted after classes walking together.

this didn't go unnoticed by theo, of course. he wanted to punch mattheo in his face. mattheo was one of theo's closest friends and to see him get close with you, it also hurt him.

it was a stupid, stupid situation. the two of you pretending to move on while both your feelings grew stronger- though a large majority of it was anger due to the fact you were not communicating.

or at least verbally communicating. whenever you looked up, no matter where you were, his eyes were the first ones to meet yours.

it was ridiculous, really. you couldn't seem to get away from him, he seemed to stalk you as if you were prey. he couldn't get you out of his mind.

-

you looked over at the clock, 2:56am. great. you couldn't seem to sleep for some reason and it was starting to annoy you. you quietly got out of bed, slipping on a random hoodie on the floor and your slippers before leaving your dorm. you knew that after 12am, no teachers or prefects would be on lookout so you didn't have to worry too much about getting caught.

you made your way up to the astronomy tower, your favourite spot to go when you were unable to sleep. you reached into your pj short pockets and retrieved the joint that you rolled earlier.

you got the lighter out and attempted to light it. of course it had to be out of fluid. you were just away to get up when you noticed theo standing behind you.

"you spooky bitch! why the fuck would you stand there like that, holy fuck bro. you better be glad i'm a teenager and not an old woman cause you would've gave me a heart attack," you scolded him as you raised a hand over your heart to relieve yourself of the pure distress he just put you through.

"calm down, darling. here's a lighter," he passed you his stainless steel lighter. the same one you carved both of your initials into. you were surprised he used it.

"you don't get to do that," you looked up at him, feeling anger flowing through your veins. theo looked at you, he seemed confused but also like he knew what was happening.

"you don't get to have cuddle me, kiss me, make love to me, everything a couple would do, and then fucking show up to a place where you knew i was at with another stupid fucking girl! do you know how long i've waited for you? years theo, fucking years! i thought it was best to keep waiting, hoping for the day that you would admit you loved me back, but you didn't. but i still waited, theo, i fucking waited. i would never do this if it was anyone else," you felt tears threatening to spill and a lump in your throat.

theo remained quiet, he looked down at his hands and played with the silver rings which decorated his stupidly pretty hands. you waited for him to say something, anything. but he didn't. once again, but were you surprised.

"have your stupid lighter back. i never should've carved our initials in it thinking we could've been something," you shoved the silver lighter into his hands before walking off.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

[damneddamsy]

second sight | cregan stark x oc (part iv)

a/n: MDNI, rated 18+ ! soooo today on your weekly dose of Stark fluff, Kook Claere and Simp Cregan attempt to move their love language from acts of service to, ahem, physical touch.

The journey back to Winterfell had been quiet, the cold edge of the North still riddling them as they left the Wall behind. The vast, forlorn stretch of backvelds seemed to reflect their silence. Cregan had said nothing thereafter, allowing Claere her space to regain composure. He knew better than to provoke his wistful wife—knew that whatever mysteries she brought from beyond the Wall were hers to bear until she was prepared to unburden herself to him. And so, he let her stew in her mind's eye, his gaze wavering on her occasionally, wishing to trot his horse by her side, as she stared out the road.

He could tell she sensed his worried scrutiny, the implicit queries that clung to the air between them like her silver dragon that soared overhead. Nevertheless, he refrained. If the icy unknown beyond had terrorised her, he wouldn't be the one to pick apart the pieces. Not yet.

By the time they stopped at a small, weather-beaten inn along the Kingsroad, dusk had settled over the land, the last golden traces of daylight waning into the horizon. Inside, the air was warmer, thick with the smell of bubbling broth and firewood, but neither of them seemed inclined to feast as compared to the rest of their party. The weariness of the road remained, though Cregan suspected something graver ate at his wife.

He found her later, seated on the floor near the long, narrow window, her gaze turned skyward. The room was dim, the half-moon and stars luminous through the glass, and she sat in silence, as though the world beyond the window held more comfort than the inn’s fire. Wordlessly, he joined her side, his motions unimposing, as though he didn’t want to disturb the calm that had settled over her.

Claere didn’t acknowledge him at first, lost in whatever thoughts churned beneath that placid exterior of hers. But after a long stretch of silence, she spoke, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

"Ask me," she murmured, still looking at the stars. "You must have a thousand."

Cregan only smiled, his lips curving into a small, teasing grin. "You can keep your secrets."

He could be patient. Whatever haunted her would come out in time, as all things did. Let her hold onto them, for now.

Her indigo eyes flickered at him briefly, and for a moment, reassurance passed over her features. "I saw nothing," she echoed from before. "Nothing clear. Nothing I wanted."

He tilted his head. "What did you want?"

"Proof of my sanity," she muttered. Her gaze paused on the stars, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. “Proof that I haven’t slipped into madness… or that it won’t contain me yet.”

Cregan’s teasing grin faded, his expression hardening with understanding.

“Madness comes for us all in time. Wears many disguises, but you'll feel it," he said his voice a quiet rumble. "And you're still here. That’s proof enough for me.”

She huffed lightly, not quite convinced, but something in her softened at his words. The silence that followed was thick, not with tension but with the soft comfort of shared understanding. He made space for her, and it made her want to draw closer. So she did. She shifted to him, ever so slightly, her shoulder brushing his.

After a while, she leaned in closer, her voice no louder than a whisper as she raised her hand toward the glass pane, pointing out a faint cluster of stars.

“That one,” she said. her voice quiet, “I’ve always adored it. I call it drūmā—‘the dream.’”

"Drūmā," he managed a murmur.

He turned his head to the sky, but he was hardly glimpsing at the stars. All he could see or think was her—the way her lips curved around the word, the sweet reverence in her tone as if that distant constellation held some deep, unstated meaning. Cregan felt a swell of emotion rise in his chest. She was this beautiful secret wrapped in fire and caution, a valiant princess who had crossed the Wall on dragonback and yet still found splendour in the stars.

His heart leapt to his throat as he moved scarcely, offering her the comfort of his shoulder. Claere accepted it, fitting herself into the curve of his arm, her head resting back into the burrow near his collar, her gaze still fixed on the night sky.

Then she traced an invisible path in the air, drawing with the stars. "And there. They remind me of a dragon falling asleep. Sōvīr zaldrīzes."

Cregan, however, was watching her—studying every line of her flawless face, every swift flit of her eyes as they tracked the stars. She possessed every fibre of his being. She had him entirely.

Deaf to restraint, his hand moved to her face, fingers brushing over her cheek. “And what do you call this?” he asked, almost a rumble in the stillness.

Claere blinked, a little surprised at the question. "Mēre," she answered softly, her Valyrian slipping from her lips like melodies.

He let his forefinger graze the length of her bent nose, his eyes never leaving her face. “And this?”

“Lāmas.”

Two fingers hovered over the fullness of her lips, his breath catching as her violet gaze veered to meet his, the anticipation between them taut as a drawn bowstring.

"And these?" he asked, the words a bare whisper.

“Lēda,” she answered, voice fainter now, nearly breathless.

A lopsided smile curled on his lips. "And what do you say when you want to kiss them so desperately?"

She swallowed hard; unguarded, unspeaking.

Cregan didn’t hesitate, he had waited too long for this. He leaned in, slowly, delicately, until his lips brushed hers. The kiss was gentle, glorifying—as if he feared shattering the moment if he pushed too quickly. His palm, calloused from years of wielding weaponry and enduring the ironhearted North, cradled her face with unexpected tenderness, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. When he pulled back, it was with both relief and strain that he searched her face for any sign that he had overstepped.

But Claere didn’t pull away. Rather, with a spontaneous boldness that startled even her, she lifted her hand to his, slender fingers soft yet confident as they wrapped around his wrist, holding him close, bringing it to her fluttering lips. Her touch was gentle, wavering at first as if testing the warmth of his skin.

But when she leaned in again, kissing him back, her grip tightened—not out of force, but need. Her soft moan speared right into his tongue, robbing him of his breath. The pads of her fingers squeezed into his hand, her other palm lain against his chest, feeling the sporadic beat of his heart beneath the thin layer of tunic. She could've reached right in and crumbled it to dust, he would've gladly let her.

This time, it was she who deepened the kiss, her lips crashing his with a fervour that sent a tremble down his spine. Her fingers slid up from his chest to his jaw, stroking at the hair that brushed his shoulder, tracing the line of his powerful neck, her touch both curious and loving. It wasn’t hurried, but it was deliberate—every brush of her fingers, every urge of her lips, drawing him further into her as if she was memorising him through touch alone. Cregan could do nothing but follow, lost in the sensation of her, the heat of her skin against his.

When they finally pulled apart, they stayed close, foreheads relaxed together, sharing the same breath and heartbeat. And in the peace, the quiet between them now felt different—more familiar, more certain. It wasn’t simply a kiss. It was an oath.

His fingers threaded through her hair, lightly scratching at her scalp, drawing her closer.

"Did you like it?" she asked, her voice a fragile whisper, almost unsure. Her violet eyes flickered between his, searching for something.

He grinned, the warmth of it softening the usual harshness of his features, though his grey eyes owned their intensity, locked on her as if she might vanish in the next breath.

"Aye, more than I can say," he rasped, his voice roughened with affection and awe. His thumb now brushed at her red lips, studying the little divots there. "I'd like to do it more often."

“You would?” she murmured, her breath ghosting over his hand.

Cregan’s grip tightened on her, his thumb moving from her lips to her jaw, tracing the line of her face with a gentleness that belied his strength. "If you'd allow it, I'd spend every breath seeking more."

A hint of a smile stretched across her face, her eyes flickering between his with something like wonder. “I’ve never shared much."

He tilted his head slightly, studying her at that moment—the way her features softened in the dim light, the way her presence, quiet and strange as it was, had become something he cherished.

"I will spend my time earning them." He brushed his lips against hers, with a newfound ease that urged him to stroke her thighs and waist, striking his fingertips with lightning bolts.

"One kiss at a time," he vowed.

X

The return to Winterfell was far from triumphant. There were no banners raised, no songs sung. The people did not look upon Claere with admiration or awe; instead, they continued to whisper behind closed doors and cast nervous glances in her direction. Word had spread of her crossing beyond the Wall, and in the minds of many, it had become a tale twisted by fear. How had she returned when so many before her had been lost? What had she seen? Why did she refuse to speak of it?

Still, Claere persisted. It was unlike her to make do with her quiet resolve in such matters. Especially those he knew would never concern her. She walked through the kitchens, speaking softly to the cooks, inquiring about the meals being prepared, offering a recipe she had learned in Dragonstone.

"No, my lady. That is not the way here," one of the kitchenmaids would murmur, polite but dismissive.

Claere’s attempts to suggest improvements to the weaving of the tapestries were met with similar disinterest. "We’ve always done it this way, my lady," they would say.

She was there, present in her part, yet treated her as light as the wind. She was seen, but never truly heard.

What stung more, though, was how the mothers kept their children away. The same little ones who once flocked to her side, wide-eyed and eager for tales of her homeland, were now kept at a distance by protective hands. She had shared stories of Dragonstone, of King’s Landing, of tasting exotic Tyroshi fruits and scouting for dragon eggs in the wilds. The children had adored her for it—had laughed and clung to her skirts, fascinated by Luna, the gentle beast who towered over them, but never harmed a soul.

Claere knelt in the courtyard with her harp on her thigh, and a small group of children gathered around her. Their eyes were wide with wonder as she described the hatching of a dragon’s egg, her songful voice painting pictures for them. One of the littlest girls, with a shock of red hair, reached out timidly, wanting to touch the dragon bone pendant that hung from Claere’s neck.

Just before the girl's fingers could graze it, a sharp voice called out from across the yard. "Ellys, no!"

The child froze, her hand dropping back to her side as her mother hurried forward, her eyes darting nervously between a stoic Claere and her daughter.

"It’s time we go, love," the woman said quickly, scooping the girl up into her arms. "Let's not bother Lady Stark any longer."

The girl whimpered, still looking at Claere. "But I want to hear what happened to the pink egg!"

Her mother cast a wary glance at Claere, voice low but trembling as she clutched her child. "We’ve heard enough stories."

Then, she turned and hurried away, whispering something under her breath to another woman nearby.

From a distance, Cregan observed this, his jaw tightening. He could see Claere’s smile falter slightly as the children were excused and led away one by one, their innocent excitement replaced by a quiet, uncertain look over their shoulders. He said nothing, though it tore at him. He couldn't. These were mothers, protectors of their own, and in the North, no lord could command a mother’s fears away. Not even the gods themselves.

Later that evening, as they sat together in the Great Hall for supper, Cregan caught her drifting gaze while sliding a few more slices of honeycakes onto her plate. Claere began to pick them apart with her fingers, reducing the golden pastry into small, crumbled pieces.

"Your heart shines brighter than a few whispers," Cregan said gently, his voice meant to pull her back from her inner thoughts. "They’ll see that, in time. You need to give them that chance."

Her fingers paused, holding a tiny morsel. "Yes," she said flatly, "but time isn't always kind."

Cregan's eyes softened, seeing through the mask she wore. He leaned closer, brushing his hand along the back of her head in a gesture meant to comfort, to encourage.

"Don’t give up on them, Claere. You’re their lady, and the North is not easily won, but it can be won."

Claere’s expression barely shifted, her lips twitching into a faint, thin smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She pushed the crumb between her lips carefully.

"It does not bother me," she muttered, almost too quickly. "I have come to understand the way things are here."

He frowned slightly, knowing her well enough to sense what was left unsaid. "You may not show it, but you don’t have to carry this load alone. I am here."

She gave a small, tight nod, her voice quieter now. "I’m not giving up. But if they can’t see me, perhaps I wasn’t meant to be seen."

Cregan’s chest tightened at her words, but he stayed silent, only watching her, his hand resting protectively against her neck as she turned her gaze down, once again retreating into herself.

So Claere, ever watchful, stepped aside. She ceased trying to win the adults’ favour, knowing now that every attempt was met with indifference. Instead, she continued to watch. Like a ghost in her own home, she floated through the halls, spending hours in the glass gardens she had devised, silently overseeing their construction. Once, she had imagined them filled with life—blue roses blooming in defiance of the North’s frost—but now, they seemed as far away as everything else she touched.

It frustrated Cregan. It wasn’t enough that Claere tried, that she performed her duties with respect and vigilance. His people had judged her the moment she returned from beyond the Wall, and no amount of goodwill could shift that perception.

But it wasn’t the whispers or isolation that stirred at Cregan; it was how the distance between Claere and his people widened, even as her subtle feelings for him deepened. He was the one thing in Winterfell that did not change, that didn’t turn cold. And though she felt more and more like a foreigner in the keep, with Cregan, she had found her home.

Claere had always marvelled at Cregan’s patience—the way he tempered the demands of leadership with calm strength. But there was something else now, something more primal in her admiration, as her attention faltered on him from the castle balcony. The training yard below was alive with the sounds of clashing steel and gruff commands, yet her gaze was drawn only to him.

He cruised with effortless power, his sword sinuating around his fingertips, his broad shoulders and thick arms bared to the cold as he sparred with his men. The North had sculpted him into its image—formidable, headstrong, every inch of him hardened by years of combat and the harsh winter winds. His skin, sunkissed, stretched over taut muscles, and his stance, solid as the very stones of Winterfell, left no question that this man was the embodiment of ancient Stark blood.

Cregan had become a gentle giant of the North, the spitting image of his forebears, a regal wolf among his men. And Claere was suddenly, inexplicably lured to it—the rawness, the sheer force of his presence. She had never truly admired this side of him before, having always been more attuned to his compassion, his unfailing patience.

But now, she found herself watching him as she never had, from the eyes of a spellbound girl. Her lips parted for air, her hand curling around the cold stone of the balcony, and for a brief moment, she was lost in the sight of him. Her husband, she thought. Remarkable.

He caught her. His grey eyes flicked up, meeting hers, and though he had pretended not to notice at first, a flicker of amusement crossed his face.

With a playful grin, he raised his hand and beckoned her with a single finger.

She felt her heart skip, heat rushing to her face. Shaking her head quickly, she broke the gaze, ducking away as if she’d been caught in some intimate moment, her mind reeling from the sudden rush of feeling. She liked the excitement, the pulsations—whatever it was—a lot.

Claere had been standing so still, so intently focused on Cregan, that when she finally turned to leave, she nearly collided with a nearby servant. She staggered back, her hand brushing against the woman’s arm.

"My apologies," she murmured, eyes downcast as she quickly regained her footing. The servant, wide-eyed and unsure of how to respond, merely dipped her head, and Claere hurried off, her cheeks burning as she escaped into the corridors, her heart still racing.

Down in the yard, Cregan caught the whole exchange. He watched as she retreated, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Got her good, my lord," one of his men said with a grin, leaning on his sword. "Thought she might’ve fallen right into you this time."

Cregan’s own smile was barely contained. “She’s no doe to be startled into my arms."

"A dragon, my lady is," one of them laughed.

“Yet it seems she has taken more than a few looks at her huntsman,” another chimed in, and the others chuckled.

Cregan shook his head, though the light in his eyes betrayed his delight.

"She’s got a mind of her own," he said, turning back to the practice, though his thoughts were still on her. He pointed his sword at his men. "More stubborn than any of you lads."

As they went back to training, the conversation shifted, and for a while, Cregan focused on the clang of swords and the weight of his shield. But when Claere crossed his mind again—her shy retreat, the way she had tried to disappear after that small, flustered moment—he couldn’t help but feel ten pounds lighter. The way she was beginning to see him differently was a triumph in itself. A sweet adoration that bloomed outside of auguries and omens.

As the sun began to set, his men’s teasing returned in full force.

“Mark my words,” one of the older guards called out as they packed up for the day. “It’s about time Winterfell welcomes another Stark. A summer child, heh?"

Cregan wiped the sweat from his brow, smirking as he sheathed his sword. “When it happens, I’ll let you pour the first ale—if you can still lift the barrel.”

Subsequently, as he stood before his small council, the rising tension returned. The air in the room was thick with unease, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows over the stone walls. Every mention of the dragon princess seemed to knot their nerves tighter. They were still wary, questioning what Claere had seen beyond the Wall. While she had spoken of it to Cregan in private, with words that rang true to him, the men around the table were not as easily convinced.

“What does it mean for the North, my lord?” one of the men snapped, his voice laced with accusation rather than fear. “She flew beyond the Wall, into lands none return from. Not even crows. She’s not like us. Who knows what kind of darkness she brought back?”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the small council, emboldened by the man’s sharp tone. Another voice, colder and crueller, chimed in. “We’ve heard the whispers, my lord. Bloodmagic, hexes—things no Northerner should meddle with. What if she’s hiding something? What if her silence masks the real threat?”

The room stirred with growing boldness, the men exchanging conspiratorial glances as if they had forgotten whose hall they were in. One of them leaned forward, his eyes narrow and calculating.

“The people are afraid, and fear breeds rebellion. The longer you keep her here, the more they’ll question your judgment. Is that the kind of lord you want to be remembered as? One who brought a Valyrian sorceress into Winterfell?"

Their words were sharp as blades, probing, testing his resolve, as if daring him to falter.

He did. Cregan’s patience snapped. He rose to his full height, his shadow stretching long across the room as his eyes darkened like storm clouds brewing overhead. The council fell silent immediately, the weight of his authority pressing down on them. His voice, low and controlled, carried the kind of steel that had made men follow him into battle without hesitation.

“I will make myself clear once and for all. Claere saw nothing,” Cregan said, his words cold and unyielding. His gaze swept over the table, landing on each man in turn. “Nothing but ice and desolation. There is no curse on my wife. She flew beyond the Wall and returned for one reason: to feed her dragon. And that dragon now sleeps outside our walls, not as a harbinger of doom, but as her loyal steed."

The men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but none dared to meet his gaze. His presence commanded the room, the force of his conviction quelling any further protest. Still, one of the older lords, his voice a murmur barely above a whisper, tried to speak again.

“My lord, we mean no disrespect, but if—”

Cregan’s hand slammed down onto the table, cutting the man off. The sound echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap.

“Enough! I've had it all!" His voice was as sharp as the Valyrian blade at his hip. “Another word of dissent against Lady Stark’s sound mind, and I swear it upon the old gods and the new—heads will roll.”

A deadly silence followed his words. The men around the table bowed their heads in submission, their once-nervous glances now replaced by wide-eyed fear. They knew Cregan well enough to understand that his threats were never idle.

He straightened back up. “Claere Stark is of this house, of this land. She is your lady. You will treat her as such. If any of you think otherwise, say it now and face me.”

None spoke.

"Fair choice. Then it is decided."

He dismissed the council and as they hurried out of the hall, their whispers stilled in their throats. Yet, even as they left, Cregan stood alone by the fire, his jaw clenched. For all his power, for all his belief in Claere, a shadow of doubt clung to the edge of his mind. She had shared little of her journey beyond the Wall, and though he trusted her with his very life, the silence that followed her return weighed heavier than he dared to admit. Something remained hidden beneath her quiet resolve. Something he could not yet see.

Later, in the hush of their chambers, the flicker of firelight danced across the stone walls. Claere sat by the hearth, pricked fingers deftly stitching the embroidery she had been labouring on for weeks. It was still sloppy work, as Cregan loved to tease her about. He lay with his head in her lap, watching her more than the flames.

These evenings had become their tacit routine—a time of shared silence that he had come to treasure. The peace wrapped around him, soothing the doubts that lingered, though they rarely exchanged words. In these quiet moments, he felt most at ease, their closeness needing no explanation.

Tonight, however, the silence felt different. Claere's hands paused in their careful craft, her gaze dipping as if gathering her thoughts. The fire crackled softly, but it seemed distant, overpowered by the tension in the room.

“Are you burdened by me before your council?” she asked, her words hesitant, hedging.

Her fingers stilled on the embroidery, resting just above Cregan’s brow where his head lay on her lap.

Cregan’s brows furrowed, his eyes searching her face. He understood what she was trying to say—her isolation, her distance from the little ones, their fear. It was finally getting to her, as it did to every person despairing in silence.

But he only shook his head, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Claere, I’ve carried steel, fire, and the weight of a thousand dead Starks on my shoulders, but you?” His thumb traced the side of her leg, playful and reassuring. "Your heft is that of a feather compared to all that."

Her eyes met his, doubt still lingering in their violet depths. "I hear them talk to you. Endlessly."

He snickered. "Well, you should join next time."

She pursed her lips, dismissive.

He rubbed her knee beneath his cheek, voice lowering. “Let them talk. Their empty words mean nothing when they’re blind to the truth. What matters is what you've done despite it all. Tending to the hold, hunting... the glass gardens. Their opinions change nothing.”

She opened her mouth to protest again, but before she could, he suddenly pounced, tackling her to the ground with a fluid grace that left her breathless. His arms wrapped around her waist as they tumbled, her startled gasp filling the room before it veered to their soft, unrestrained laughter.

"Cregan!" she managed, trying to push him off with little strength behind her effort, her hands half-heartedly pressing against his chest.

“You thought I didn't notice?” he teased, hovering over her with ease, his broad frame casting a shadow. His smile was wide, mischievous, as though he held a secret she had yet to discover.

“You’ve been watching me train, princess. And rather intently, might I add. Devouring me with those enchanting eyes.”

Claere’s cheeks warmed at his words, the colour blooming faintly against her pale skin. It was an expression he loved—a rare slip of emotion that made her otherwise cool demeanour seem fragile.

“I have not—”

“Little liar,” he chuckled, lowering his head toward hers, close enough that his breath ghosted over her lips. “I caught you staring more than once. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

She tried to avert her eyes, but his hand came up, cupping her jaw in his roughened palm, guiding her gaze back to him. Her protests died on her tongue, replaced by uncertainty. The playful glint in his eyes softened, a deeper warmth replacing it. He was in no rush now, not when her heart raced beneath him, not when the space between them grew thinner by the second.

Her breath hitched, and her usual blankness seemed to melt away, giving way to the bare bones of Claere—joy, tension, the edges of a smile twitching at her lips.

“I was simply appreciating the view,” she mumbled, her eyes darting away.

“The view, is it?” Cregan’s grin widened, mischief in his tone. “And here I thought your attention was elsewhere.”

She huffed, trying to maintain her composure. “I’m capable of admiring more than one thing at a time.”

He arched a brow. “Though somehow, I think it wasn’t my swordsmanship that had you swooning. Something under my plates? Or perhaps... my breeches?”

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above hers. Their laughter had long died out, the air between them thickening with tension, but it was the kind that felt like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

He could feel her heartbeat quicken, her breath coming in soft, shallow puffs, and it was all he needed. His voice dwindled to a near-whisper, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth with deliberate slowness.

“Say my name again.”

Her violet eyes flitted up to his from staring at his lips. "Why?"

"I'd like to hear it from your mouth."

She breathed out, "Cregan."

He needed no more invitations. He closed the gap, crushing his lips to the ones that were spoken for in his name, with the care that gainsaid his size like she was a glass doll he wanted to protect. But the kiss carried more than just tenderness—it was a slow burn of the long-awaited as if he had been waiting for this moment for years. And in that kiss, he felt her response, moving her lips with his to mimic him, graceless but sweet in her own way.

As they pulled apart, her eyes fluttered open, dazed and unhesitant. She blinked up at him, lips slightly parted, and though she didn’t say a word, he could see the answer written in her expression—a soft, implicit permission.

It wasn’t long before Cregan had pulled the heavy furs from the bed, laying them out on the stone floor to make a makeshift bed. His coarse hands stretched toward her in an invitation that was far gentler than anything he had ever given her before.

Though Claere hesitated, bringing her hand to her chest, a shadow of reluctance crossing her face. “My Lord, I—"

"No, I want none of that. Speak like my wife." He abraded at her courtesy rather than anything.

"Cregan," she corrected quietly. "I don’t want to be a young mother."

An invisible fist gripped his throat. He hadn’t expected her to voice such a fear, although some of him understood. He didn’t need to hear more to know that the idea of maternity, of the expectations it carried with it, terrified her in a way she would not easily admit.

Looking at her now, so frail in her admission, he realized that what he wanted most wasn’t bound by obligation or lineage. He didn’t need heirs or any responsibilities others might want to place on them. It was her. He wanted her. Just her.

"Nor I, a young father," he shared in a rumble of breath, stretching his arms further for her.

"Until then we'll simply be us," he promised.

It was all the assurance she needed. Bearing a relieved grin, she placed her hand in his, letting him pull her into the warmth of the furs.

Claere sat on her heels, back to him, and piled her thick silver braid over a shoulder. Cregan, much obliged, opened her bodice and petticoats one by one while she sat motionless, staring into the flames. He caressed the lune of her spine, his entire hand spread over the span, her skin burning under his touch, unmarred, smooth, seeming like silk stretched over glass.

She glanced at him, uncertainly gliding off her sleeves, now bare-skinned and impassive. As if prompted by the strings of a puppeteer, she slid away from her dresses and laid back on the furs, shutting her eyes. It fell far from what Cregan had envisioned, his wife lain for him like awaiting a death knell.

Rather, he raised a quizzical brow at her. "What are you doing?"

Claere opened her eyes, startled by the question. "Isn't this what you wanted?" Almost like she was trying to puzzle him out, calm and detached. "You can... take me now. I know what is expected of me. My maidenhead is unsullied."

Cregan blinked, utterly taken aback, and then a soft chuckle escaped him, one he didn’t intend but couldn’t help.

"Take you," he repeated to himself, incredulous. His grin widened, full of humour and fondness. "What do you think this is?"

Instinctively, her hands went to cover her breasts. Her brows furrowed, confusion spreading across her features as she squinted at him, her cheeks flushing faintly.

"Is this not what happens between a husband and wife?" she asked, her voice no longer carrying the confidence she had tried to summon.

He sighed, pulling her hands away from her chest, gentle but firm. There was warmth in his gaze, despite the humour. He threaded his fingers through hers.

"Aye," he said softly, "but not like this. You’re not spoils of war, Claere. I am no king to conquer you. Or your enemy to face."

Her shoulders, once tense, unwound as she looked up at him, understanding him.

"No," she agreed.

With a tender smile, Cregan reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. His hand moved down to her cheek, cupping it gently, and he looked her in the eye.

"I will have you in love, or I will not have you at all."

And so it went—their night of perfect pleasure, ruptured only by their awkwardness about what followed next. Platitudes fled replaced by yearning, Cregan ripping at his padded tunics and eager to bring her onto his lap until the distance was insignificant. She went all too gladly, bestraddling him, and he guided her hands from his waist to his neck.

Claere followed his lead with a tentative curiosity, her body flush against his chest. But he didn’t rush her—didn’t demand. Instead, he reached for her hands, gently guiding them from his thighs, where they’d instinctively gone, up toward his neck.

His fingers wrapped softly around hers, urging her to trace the roughness of his stubble and the solid strength of his shoulders. To the lines on his chiselled chest and the bow of his lips.

“Here,” he whispered. “I want your touch, all of you.”

Her breath hitched as her fingertips brushed over the nape of his neck, hesitant but trusting. He guided her the rest of the way, showing her the places that made him shiver beneath her touch, the places he wanted her to claim as her own.

He gently closed her warm hand over his hardness, her eyes flitting up to his, confused.

Their foreheads pressed together as he sighed, his eyes half-lidded, savouring the feeling of her palm around his length. It was a distinct kind of familiarity—intimate in a way that felt more sacred than godly vows. In a trail of white-hot kisses up her neck and claiming her lips once more, he adjusted her over his lap, until she was centred right over him.

Their eyes met—he melted, burned, raged, all but perfection until mending and finding the right symphony. At that moment, no one could've loved someone the way he was loving her.

In a single movement, she plunged down, perhaps some inherent impulse, and he buried himself deep inside her. Deeper, until every fragment of space in that heat between her legs was swelled with him. Her face strained as she welcomed him, and a rasping cry muffled into his neck.

"I have you," he reassured breathily, past the stars that roiled behind his eyes, holding her at her head and waist. "I have you now."

She nodded hard against his shoulder.

"Move for me, my love," he urged.

It wasn’t possession in the slightest, not when they made those noises, not when they collided like that; especially her, like she had mounted her dragon and taken to the skies. No, this was release. This was frustration that needed to end. This was her coming undone before him, subject to sensations like she was untethered from the world itself, weightless in a way she never knew she could be. The wrath of fire and the patience of ice found a way to coexist between them. They simply were fire and ice.

Cregan's hands slid up her sides, panting in husky grunts, rough nails digging into the smooth skin on her back, anchoring her deeper into him. He revelled in the way she responded, the way her lips parted for a breathless gasp, her fingers twisted in his hair, and how his name fell from her lips like a prayer. He bore her unravelling braid like a pearly rope around his wrist, tugging her back to grant him access to her throat. Sweet and sweeter, like nectar. He expected smoke and soot when he kissed her skin.

Every gentle rock of her saintly hips sent a shiver down his spine, her breath growing shallow, her violet eyes fluttering closed as though the world had fallen to ash around them. Here, in the bare intimacy, Claere was simply herself, vulnerable and powerful all at once.

For once, there was no restraint, no hesitation. She wasn’t holding anything back, and neither was he.

“Look at me,” he whispered, voice rough and ragged, needing to see her, to meet her gaze as the distance between them disappeared entirely.

Her eyes fluttered open, heady with lust but shining with something more—conviction, maybe, or something even deeper, something he knew they both sensed but hadn’t quite named.

At this moment, they weren't simply lord and lady, wolfblood and dragonblood—they were something else, elsewhere entirely. Bound not by titles, but by the intensity that had grown between them since the first time they met. She was his match, his equal, and he swore he would follow her to the ends of the earth if only to touch her like this again.

It was as though every wall she'd ever built came crumbling down. She didn’t resist it—couldn’t, really—because with him, there was no need to hold on. The pace became feverish, rushing quicker, desperate to chase that high. Her breaths came faster, and her heart raced, but none of it felt overwhelming. She let herself fall apart for him in a sharp, trembling cry, clutching him tight.

He smothered his gruff groan and expletive into her shoulder, getting a mouthful of her hot skin, conscious of the consequences through the dizzying drop, and gently pulled her off him to empty his spend into his breeches. The waves of pleasure ravaged him, he could hear the blood coursing in his ears as he embraced her to him with an arm, coiled taut yet loosened soft, all at once.

They came down together, back to their continent, back to Winterfell, back by the fire, as a tangle of limbs over the fuzzy down, slick in sweat and gasps. Claere’s arms stayed wrapped around Cregan’s neck, her breath still coming in soft, dreamy puffs against his skin. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, not easing her grip, as if reluctant to let go of the warmth they shared.

Cregan’s tough hand continued its slow, soothing path up and down her back, tracing the soft ridges of her spine and the delicate curve of her ribs. He kissed her jaw, her temple, the spot just below her ear.

“Claere,” he murmured against her skin, his breath warm, “I could stay like this forever.”

Again, his words went by unheard. It so happened that he got used to it, that sometimes she just refused to leave her head.

As they lay in the warmth of the furs, the world beyond nothing but a memory, Claere’s fingers moved dreamily through the air, tracing invisible lines as if drawing constellations on the weathering ceiling. There was a faraway look in her eyes, as though her thoughts had taken flight somewhere beyond the stone walls of the keep.

Cregan’s eyes followed the gentle dance of her fingers, the way her hand swayed back and forth, almost in a trance, lost in some quiet reverie. He could feel the soft rise and fall of her breath against his chest, each exhale like a whisper of the wind, and yet her mind seemed elsewhere, reaching toward a distant idea.

“Do you ever wish we could just… fly away?” she asked softly, her voice drifting like her fingers, her words delicate.

Her eyes remained on the imperceptible path she was tracing, not daring to look at him just yet. Cregan felt a small tug at his heart, the way she asked not with fear but with the consequence of hope, a dreamer trying to keep her visions alive in a world that so often crushed them.

He let out a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to catch hers mid-air, stopping the slow, swaying motion of her fingers. He grasped it gently, his thumb brushing the back of it in calming strokes.

“Fly away?” he echoed, a teasing smile curving his lips as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “With Luna or..." his voice dipped lower, "have I replaced her as your favourite mount to ride?"

A small, breathless laugh escaped her. "The wolf in the North indeed."

He bit at the skin of her jaw and pulled. "I strive to please, princess."

“Not leave for long. For a while,” she murmured, as though speaking of some impossible place, a dream she couldn’t quite grasp.

Cregan’s brow softened, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. He understood that yearning in her voice—the wish to escape Winterfell, the duties, the judgment—but he couldn’t help but grin at her. Sometimes, he'd think the same.

“Well then,” he said with a playful glint in his eye, “perhaps one day I’ll steal you away to Dornish warmth. Summer beneath a blood orange orchard. But I’m not sure the wolves would forgive me for that.”

Her lips quirked, a soft smile touching her face, though her eyes remained far off, still seeing that distant place. For a girl who owned a dragon, she ought to be well-travelled. Dorne must've been one of the many places she must've flown to.

Cregan leaned in, his forehead resting on hers, their breaths mingling.

“Tonight, I believe you belong right here,” he whispered, his voice low and affectionate.

Her fingers, no longer suspended in the air, curled around his, the trance broken but the dream still lingering in her gaze. She shifted closer, her bare skin brushing against his, her head resting on his chest, the far-off look in her eyes slowly fading.

"Yes," she eventually said, soft and certain. "Here is good."

Cregan kissed the top of her head, his lips brushing the silken strands of her hair, and as she nestled deeper into his embrace, he whispered. “Always here.”

She traced wistful, circuitous patterns on his chest, a fleeting touch that soothed the storm inside him. The words were unnecessary now. He knew, and so did she. The quiet between them was no longer a vacuum—it was full, full of everything understood, a second sight they both shared, woven between heartbeats and breaths.

Outside, the winds of winter howled, but within, they had found their haven. Now, that was enough.

X

still a little to come, I promise! hope you felt luuuuurv!

question of the day for those of you still here: what song reminds you the most of claere? what song reminds you most of cregan & claere?

taglist: @pearldaisy , @thatkindofgurl , @theadharablack , @cherryheairt , @lv7867 , @cosmosnkaz , @beingalive1 , @piper570 , @tigolebittiez

thank you all so much for your support and comments! it's what drives me to write these days <3

[ashwhowrites]

Ok, so this one is either going to be a hefty boy, or a 2-parter:

So imagine if Chrissy broke up with Jason and starts dating Eddie. The reader is best friends with both Chrissy and Eddie, and is also very much in love with them. But since they're together, reader just keeps it to herself. Unbeknownst to her (and to each other) both Chrissy and Eddie also have feelings for the reader.

Until one day, Eddie and Chrissy are together, and he calls Chrissy by the readers name. Eddie's panicking thinking Chrissy is going to be pissed, but instead she's just like "oh thank god!" And they decide to try and figure out if the reader feels the same about them.

Then maybe like Jason wants to get back at Chrissy and Eddie, so he convinces a basketball player to ask the reader out and then embarrasses her on the date, so she goes crying to her besties and they comfort her and confess their feelings.

(If you want to add HellCheer x reader smut at the end I won't be upset by this.)

Sorry if this is really long, I've had a while to think it out.

As a bisexual gal, this was a dream. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

⚠️smut ( threesome )

Both of you

Y/N had a secret crush on her best friend Chrissy for years. She never admitted it to the cheerleader as Chrissy never talked about females before. But Y/N also never had so maybe she shouldn't assume. Watching Chrissy and Jason be together was hell. All the things Jason got to do made Y/N burn with jealousy. Jason was also an asshole and she hated that Chrissy would even stay with him.

As a way to distract herself, Eddie caught her eye. Y/N had been friends with Eddie for a while, less than Chrissy. She met Eddie because of Chrissy, which was odd since they were opposites. But that was exactly what Y/N needed. He was the opposite of Chrissy.

She found herself crushing on him the more they all hung out. Eddie was single and Y/N focused on that. They flirted and had their moments but nothing truly happened. It was all words and soft touches to his arm.

But then Chrissy dumped Jason and Y/N was back to square one. She didn't know if she should take the chance and see where Chrissy's head could be, or keep focused on Eddie.

Eddie had a small crush on Y/N the moment he met her. She was a pretty girl with a beautiful smile. But he had his eyes on Chrissy since middle school. He suffered while she was with Jason, enjoying the distraction Y/N was. It might have been a distraction, but he loved it when Y/N would touch his arm and whisper flirty things in his ear.

But then Chrissy was single and Eddie didn't know what to do. He didn't want to discard Y/N like their time was nothing, but did he really wanna pass up the chance with Chrissy?

Chrissy felt a pull towards Y/N, and it confused her. She wasn't used to looking at a girl and wanting to spend every breath kissing her. Chrissy was always memorized by Y/N. Even when she was with Jason, her eyes watched Y/N's every move. But so did Eddie. It started as a little friendship, but the more she hung out with him the more she realized how attracted she was to him.

She dumped Jason because her brain felt splattered all over the place. She knew she didn't want him and she didn't know who to go for.

~~~

Y/N felt personally attacked by God himself when Chrissy and Eddie announced they were together. She felt like the world crashed at her feet and her duty was to suffer.

But she loved both of them, and she would never admit how bad it hurt to see them together.

She knew they didn't mean to make her a third wheel, but she was. She bit away at the inside of her cheek as they held hands in the hallways. She looked away whenever they shared a sweet kiss in the booth. And she was right out the door the second the room got steamy. She was sad that it seemed like it was not three friends hanging out anymore, it was just their date.

~

Chrissy could never get rid of this feeling in the bottom of her stomach. She knew she loved being with Eddie and was happy to be with him, but Y/N ate away at the back of her mind.

With Eddie's lips on her neck and his hands moving up her skirt, she closed her eyes and thought of Y/N. It wasn't that Y/N replaced Eddie in her mind, she was additionally added in. She pictured Y/N kissing Eddie as he moved inside of her. She pictured the three of them doing the nastiest things she could think of.

She had to bite her lip constantly to make sure she didn't moan out the wrong name. Because she screamed both their names when she pleased herself behind closed doors.

Eddie felt guilty for the amount of times he thought of Y/N. He loved Chrissy and he did not regret a relationship with her. He just wished he didn't have to pick between them. He wished he could have both under his arm.

Eddie moaned as Chrissy kissed down his naked chest, falling to her knees.

His hand tangled in her hair as she took him down her throat, his head thrown back with bliss. His eyes closed as he melted into the couch, her warm mouth wrapped around him. The feeling felt incredible as he lost himself in his fantasy.

Felt both girls' mouths on him, kissing every inch of his skin. His grip on Chrissy's hair got tighter as the images flashed through his head.

He panted at the thought of them both on their knees, pretty eyes looking up at him before they kissed each other. Then they'd pull away and both kiss down his cock. Then they'd take turns sucking him off.

"Fuck, Chrissy" he moaned, the images of her gagging on him and the touch of Y/N playing with his balls

"Fuck Y/N just like that,"

His eyes snapped open as he heard his own words. He cringed as Chrissy's head snapped up in shock.

Eddie sat in fear as she stared at him. Her blue eyes looked frozen as she stared. He quickly tucked himself back in his pants. Apology on his tongue.

"Oh thank god, you think about her too," Chrissy said, a relieved smile on her face as she stood up.

"Wait what?" Eddie asked. Chrissy crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Y/N, you were thinking about her, right?" Chrissy asked to clarify

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It wasn't instead of you. I love you and you know that. But she never leaves my head." Eddie sighed

"It's okay, Eddie. She doesn't leave my head either." Chrissy finally confessed out loud.

"Really?" Eddie was surprised. He never once thought his girlfriend had a side to her where she liked a girl.

"Really. I've been stuck trying to figure out my feelings for you and her and it's the same."

"I know what you mean," Eddie said as he held Chrissy on his lap

"What do we do?" Chrissy asked

"We see how she feels" Eddie shrugged, it was worth a shot to see where it would go.

~~~

Before Eddie and Chrissy could discuss everything with Y/N, she already had news of her own.

"What do you mean you have a date with Troy?" Eddie snapped, the excitement washed off her face.

"I mean he asked me out and I said yes, what is the big deal?" Y/N countered back

"It's just Troy isn't always the nice kind of guy," Chrissy said, a lot more comforting than Eddie.

The couple tried to ignore the pain in their chest at the thought of her slipping away.

"It's just one date, and if it goes horribly I will never see him again." Y/N shrugged. She wanted to see if she could move on and distract her brain from the two across from her.

"That is a good idea," Chrissy smiled

"Bullshit it is. Y/N, he is an asshole, what makes you think he will suddenly be prince charming? You are going to get yourself hurt." Eddie fought.

"Eddie, relax." Chrissy soothed as she rubbed his back

Y/N looked away as they shared their moment

"Why do you care so much anyway?" Y/N asked, moving her eyes to look right at Eddie.

Eddie shared a look with Chrissy, asking if this was the right time to come clean. Chrissy gave him a small shake of her head and he nodded.

"I'm looking out for a friend," Eddie replied

"I'm a big girl. I'll deal with whatever happens." Y/N snapped as she walked off

"I've got a bad feeling" Chrissy sighed

"Me too"

~

Their bad feeling was right

That night Y/N was pounding on Eddie's trailer door as she sobbed.

Eddie pulled her into a hug the moment he saw her, he closed the door behind her. He kept his arms around her as he walked her to the bedroom, where Chrissy sat flipping through her homework

"What happened?" Chrissy gasped as the crying girl came through the door. Her homework was shoved to the floor as Y/N sat on the bed. She left Eddie's arms for Chrissy's.

"I'm an idiot. I should have listened to Eddie but of course, I wanted to make my own stupid decisions." Y/N cried

Chrissy and Eddie shared a look

Chrissy pulled back a little so she could clear off Y/N's running mascara. Eddie sat next to both of them, rubbing Y/N's back.

"You are not an idiot. You wanted to give Troy a fair shot and that was sweet of you." Chrissy cooed

Eddie had a different approach

"What did the fucker do?" Eddie snapped

Chrissy sent him a glare but he was too fired up

"It was all a joke. I guess Jason told him to ask me out."

At the sound of Jason's name Chrissy and Eddie both tensed up

"And when I got there, the whole team was there and they all laughed and made fun of me for thinking I was actually going on a date with someone that popular"

"Don't listen to them. Jason is always trying to mess things up. He wanted to hurt me." Chrissy said softly, her heart broke for her.

"Anyone would be lucky to be on a date with you," Eddie jumped in

"Yeah right," Y/N scoffed. "I'm going to clean up my face." She said as she got up and walked off to Eddie's bathroom.

"I think we should say something now," Chrissy said once they were alone

"Will it be too much for her?" Eddie asked, he was worried it would be too many emotions at once.

"I think it will help her to hear."

The couple went silent as she walked back out. Her makeup was cleaned off and her hair tossed up.

"We have something to tell you," Chrissy said

Y/N nervously looked between both of them as she took her seat on the bed. Chrissy to her left and Eddie to her right

"What's up?" Y/N asked

"How do you feel about me?" Eddie asked

Y/N swallowed nervously as she turned to look at Chrissy

"It's okay, be honest," Chrissy whispered as she nodded to Eddie

Y/N took a deep breath and looked back at Eddie

"I guess I've always had this attraction towards you. And I really like you and I thought we had something but I've been trying my best to be happy for you." Y/N confessed

"And how do you feel about me?" Chrissy asked

Y/N grew more nervous for that one

"You're my best friend," Y/N smiled. Her palms were sweaty. Confessing to Eddie was easy, but coming out to her best friend was a whole different emotion

"Do you ever see me as anything more?" Chrissy asked

"I'm sorry, what is going on?" Y/N panicked as she stood up. "Why are you guys asking me this stuff?"

"Well," Chrissy sighed, "Eddie and I both have feelings for you. Feelings we felt before we got together, and they haven't gone away."

"We know it's crazy, but if you wanted, we were wondering if you wanted to give us three a shot," Eddie explained

Y/N felt like she was in a different universe. Did the two people she had feelings for just ask her to be with them?

"As in...all three of us date?" Y/N asked, her brain felt like it was non-stop running

"Yeah. We don't have to dive straight into a relationship. We could date and test the waters." Chrissy said, standing up as she walked closer.

"Uh..." Y/N didn't know what to say, but she didn't have to say anything.

Chrissy cupped her jaw and leaned in. Y/N watched with heavy eyes as Chrissy's lips got closer and closer until her lips touched hers.

Y/N melted into the kiss immediately, after years and years of dreaming about this exact moment. Y/N reached forward and gripped Chrissy's hips. The kiss grew heavy as Chrissy moved her hands to trail down Y/N's back.

Chrissy pulled away with a smile

Y/N stood shocked as she tried to regain her breath

Eddie reached forward and yanked Y/N down to his lap

She shivered as she felt his bulge underneath her body, and then his lips were on hers

She whimpered as he easily took control of the kiss. His rough hands squeezed her ass as his tongue slipped inside her mouth. Her head got dizzy from the way he touched her and pulled whines from her throat.

He pulled away with a small smirk, loving the lust that burned in her eyes

"Did you like that?" He asked

"Yes" she breathed out

"Did you like it with her?" He asked

"Yes" she breathed out

"Want to go further?" Chrissy asked

Y/N turned her head to look over her shoulder. Y/N nodded and felt her stomach bubble with excitement

~

Y/N had her back against the mattress, breathing heavily as her nerves filled her body.

"Ready?" Eddie asked, he was in between her legs, standing at the end of the bed. She barely could take her eyes off his naked body. His cock was already covered in the condom, waiting for her reply.

Chrissy sat naked near Y/N's head, rubbing Y/N's chest to calm her nerves.

"Yes"

Eddie held Y/N's hips as she pushed himself inside her, he entered himself slowly. Letting her take him inch by inch.

She gasped as he filled her, he felt amazing inside of her. He went slow as he thrust inside of her, making her eyes roll in the back of her head as she felt him.

"Doing so well for me, such a good girl," Eddie praised

Y/N shivered from his words, she couldn't believe she was finally having Eddie the way she wanted.

He leaned down, still thrusting inside of her, his lips pressed against hers for a quick second. "Wanna taste Chrissy? She tastes amazing, so sweet and addicting." Eddie's brown eyes looked up to Chrissy.

Y/N whined at the thought. Her being under Chrissy's body and tasting her on her tongue.

"Yes, please," Y/N moaned out, her voice strained as Eddie picked up his pace

Chrissy smiled as she moved to straddle Y/N's face, she faced Eddie as she slowly moved herself down

Eddie watched with delight as Chrissy's pink cunt landed on Y/N's tongue. Eddie felt himself growl as he watched Y/N's tongue working between Chrissy's folds.

Chrissy moaned as she placed her hands behind her, moving her hips as she rode Y/N's face.

"Oh, that is so good, Y/N, fuck." Chrissy moaned. She never knew how good her best friend's tongue felt.

"Such pretty girls," Eddie moaned as he watched them

He felt Y/N clench around him, she tried to talk but it was muffled. The vibrations sent Chrissy into a whining mess as she gripped the sheets.

Eddie moved his hand down to rub her clit, loving the way Y/N's body jolted. Not once losing his pace, Eddie used his free hand to reach forward to play with Chrissy's nipples. He pulled the pink bud between his fingers, loving the way it snapped back in place as she shivered

Chrissy gasped as she felt herself getting close, Y/N's tongue swirling her clit perfectly.

"Look at that, Y/N. Gonna make Chrissy cum all over you. Be a good girl and make her shake." Eddie said, his fingers still working on Y/N's clit. He took his hand away from Chrissy's nipples and moved down to Y/N's chest, his finger teasing her stomach.

Y/N was growing tired as her own orgasm got close but she shook her head back and forth, giving the messiest head she could. She loved the way Chrissy screamed out her name.

Chrissy felt her eyes roll in the back of her head as she felt her stomach snap.

"CUMMING" she warned, Eddie watched in delight as Chrissy panted and came all over Y/N's mouth

She grew sensitive and went to pick up her hips, but Y/N wrapped her arms around her thighs and slammed her back down. Chrissy cried as her thighs shook, and Y/N's tongue continued to abuse her.

Y/N finally let Chrissy go, the blonde could barely feel her legs as she landed on the bed, fucked out.

"Need," Y/N whined, her head thrown back as Eddie's fingers played with her clit

"Need to cum? Come on pretty girl. Cum all over my cock." Eddie said, his pace was so fast that she could feel his balls smacking against her skin. He planted his free hand next to her head as he fucked himself into her

She clawed at his chest as she felt her orgasm washing over her. His close behind as he emptied himself in the condom

Eddie slid out of her, disposing of the condom

Chrissy leaned down and softly pecked Y/N's lips

Eddie crawled onto his bed and kissed up Y/N's body as Chrissy pulled away.

Eddie pecked Y/N's lips before he captured Chrissy's lips in a kiss.

Y/N whimpered as they kissed above her

She didn't care to test the waters, she wanted to dive straight in

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