#this is what will let him know instantly that something is up

[summervb]

𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you have an unexpected reunion with Jun-ho after believing he was dead

warnings | angst, unresolved love, smut, explicit content, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 1.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The road stretched endlessly in front of you. You were a police officer, but at that moment, as you drove down that lonely highway, you didn't feel the rigidity of your uniform or the weight of your job.

Your mind traveled back to the past, to moments you would rather forget. Years had passed since you lost him. Since that night when he simply disappeared and you never heard from him again.

Suddenly, the lights of a patrol car reflected in your rearview mirror. The blue glow made your heart leap in your chest. Quickly, you checked your speed, confirming that you had been speeding. You cursed under your breath.

You stopped the car and parked it by the side of the road. The blue light continued to shine behind you, but something twisted in your stomach.

You prepared for a short exchange, a speeding ticket, something routine. But when the driver's door opened and you looked up, something made you stop.

There he was. In a traffic police uniform.

Hwang Jun-ho.

You couldn't believe it. Your mind went blank for a moment, as if time itself had stopped. He was staring at you, his dark eyes reflecting something you couldn't identify. For a moment, the air between the two of you thickened, dense with the memories of a past that had never completely faded.

"Good evening" he said, his voice as deep as you remembered, but with a tone you hadn't heard before. "Did you know you were speeding?"

Your body tensed instantly, but it wasn't because of the speeding. It was because of the surprise. For the feeling that the past had returned to hit you hard. You didn't know what to say, you just looked into his eyes, searching for a sign that what you saw in front of you was nothing but an illusion.

"Jun-ho…" you whispered, the word slipping from your lips as if it weren't yours, as if you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

He nodded slowly, his expression unchanged, but there was something in his gaze, something that made you doubt everything you had believed. How was it possible that he was here?

"Didn't you expect to see me here?" he asked, his tone now softer, but with a weight of nostalgia that seemed to hang in the air. "You thought you would never see me again".

A knot formed in your throat. You had asked yourself so many times what had happened to him. If he would ever come back. But the pain of the separation, the void left by his disappearance, was still fresh in your mind. And now you had him in front of you, alive, real, and in a uniform you had never imagined.

You didn't know if you had been waiting for this moment or dreading it.

"Why... are you in transit?" the question slipped out almost unintentionally, but Jun Ho cut it off before you could finish it.

"I needed to start over. Change of scenery" His voice became softer, as if the words he was saying had too great a weight to let go.

You stared at him, unsure if you could believe his words. The situation was surreal. How had he ended up here? What had happened to him since his disappearance? The last time you heard from him, it was when they found him adrift in the ocean, almost lifeless, recovering from everything he had endured. But now he was here, in front of you, as if time hadn't passed at all.

"I thought you had... died." The phrase came out before you could stop it.

Jun Ho let out a sigh, his eyes softened for a second.

"Everyone thought the same," he said, with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But I survived. And here I am".

The silence settled between the two of them, heavy, full of unasked questions, of unmentioned memories. And in that moment, something inside you broke. Something you had tried to contain for so long. The need to understand what had happened, to comprehend how it had all been. And more than anything, the need to feel it close again.

"I didn't think I would ever see you again," you said, almost like a whisper.

Jun-ho didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned toward the passenger seat, his face now just a few centimeters from yours. The proximity made you tremble. You couldn't deny what you felt, what you had always felt for him. The connection you shared, even after everything that happened, was undeniable.

Suddenly, he moved closer, his lips almost touching yours. A shiver ran through your body as you felt his closeness, and the air became thick. The memories, the emotions, everything you had kept inside overflowed in that moment.

Without thinking, you kissed him.

The kiss was immediate, as if time hadn't passed, as if everything were back to how it used to be. The touch of his lips on yours ignited something within you, something you had kept extinguished for years. The spark, the fire you shared, had never gone out.

Jun-ho's hands traced your face, as if he feared you would vanish at any moment. The gentleness with which he touched you contrasted with the urgency in his kiss. It didn't matter what had happened, what had occurred in the past. At that moment, only the present mattered.

The car no longer seemed like a closed space. The connection between the two of them was palpable, almost electric. You pulled away from his kiss for a moment, taking a breath, but before you could say anything, he leaned in again. This time, he was more determined, more firm.

His hands traveled down your neck, tracing the contour of your skin, and a shiver ran through your body. You felt how desire took hold of both of you, how the chemistry that had remained between you hadn't faded with time. It was as if it had never left.

"I've missed you so much," he said softly, as he kissed you again.

Jun-ho's words made your heart race even faster. You felt as if you had returned to the past, when everything was simpler, when there were no distances, when you both shared dreams and promises. But that promise was broken, and now only the shadows of what once was remained.

The tension in the air was rising, and you couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened between the two of you. But in that moment, the only thing that mattered was him. All you wanted was to feel him close again.

Jun-ho looked you in the eyes, and without a word, his hands began to unbutton your uniform. The desire grew with every second, with every caress, with every touch of his skin against yours.

You moved to the passenger side, sliding over his lap as his hands removed your uniform. You nestled against his chest, feeling his lips kiss your shoulders, while his hands brushed against your bare skin. The touch of his fingers tracing your curves made you gasp.

Jun-ho kissed you again, deepening the kiss, and his hands moved to the back of your body, towards your buttocks. The gesture made you tremble, and you felt something within you beginning to give in. The tension you had held for so long was fading away.

He leaned close to your ears and whispered something, words you couldn't quite understand, but that seemed to promise something beyond that moment. And instead of waiting, his fingers slid between your thighs, searching for the spot he knew would drive you wild.

The caress of his fingers was soft, tempting, as if they were about to make a promise. The closeness of his body, the proximity of his mouth over you, the softness of his fingers on you, it was all as if you were returning to the past. Everything was as if they had never been apart.

Your breath caught when his fingers found the spot. The desire intensified in an instant. The excitement had brought you to a point you didn't want to leave, and the touch of his hand on you was too much to resist.

You moved slowly over his lap, feeling the bulge of his pants against your thighs. The friction was inevitable, but Jun-ho didn't seem to mind. Instead, he moved with me, his fingers slowly penetrating you. The moans that escaped your throat were involuntary, and Jun Ho muffled them with a kiss. The rhythm of his fingers increased, the penetration deeper and more rhythmic. You couldn't hold out much longer.

Suddenly, Jun Ho stopped you. His fingers left you with a softness that made you gasp. But before you could protest, Jun-ho leaned closer to your ear and whispered.

"I want to feel you" His words made you lose your composure completely. The air in the car had become dense, heavy with desire.

I didn't need any more stimulation. Quickly, you took off your underwear and sat on his lap again.

You slid your hand between his pants, caressing his erection. The sensation of his skin, soft and warm under your touch, was all you needed. You slid it down, revealing his erection in all its glory. It was just as you remembered, big and thick, ready to be fucked.

You didn't take any more time to think. There was no more time for that. You moved over his erection, the position of the car forced you to be the one on top, and that was exactly what you wanted. The position of control was yours at that moment.

You sat on him, his erection brushing against the edge of your entrance, but without penetrating. The torture was as good as it was painful. The friction was all you needed to reach the climax, but it was also what made you want more.

Suddenly, his arms enveloped you, and he pulled you towards him. The movement was abrupt, and his erection sank into you in an instant. The penetration was stronger than you expected, but also more pleasurable.

The scream that escaped your lips was involuntary, but the pleasure was undeniable. Jun-ho moved beneath you, pushing his erection inside you over and over again. Each thrust made you tense a little more, made you sit a little deeper on his cock.

The position of the car made sex a bit more uncomfortable, but that was the last thing on your mind. At that moment, all that mattered was the feeling of having him inside you again, feeling his breath on you, having his body in contact with yours.

"Tell me you haven't forgotten me," you whisper in his ear.

The request was simple, but what lay behind it was much more than just words.

"I have never forgotten you," you replied sincerely, your words coming out in gasps. "I will never be able to do it".

Jun Ho smiled at you, his eyes shining in the darkness of the car. His arms tightened around you, and he pushed a little deeper inside you. Your breath caught for a moment, the pleasure rising to a new level.

"Then, tell me that you will always love me" he whispered again.

The words slipped from your lips without thinking.

"Yes, I always loved you. I always will".

Jun-ho smiled again, but this time, there was something in his eyes, an emotion that seemed to shine like fire. His arms tightened around you a little more, and he began to move beneath you again. The position was uncomfortable, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the rhythm, the feel of his cock inside you.

Their breathing became labored. The pleasure intensified with each thrust, but it wasn't just the sex that made you lose your composure. It was the closeness of having him there, of having him back in your life.

Their breathing became labored. The pleasure intensified with each thrust, but it wasn't just the sex that made you lose your composure. It was the closeness of having him there, of having him back in your life.

When you reached the climax, the scream that came out of you was not just one of pleasure. It was one of liberation, of having released everything you had been holding back for years.

Jun-ho arrived just a moment later, his body tensing beneath you as he came. The warm fluid spilled inside you, and you felt his erection pulsing within you.

Both of your breathing became gentle, and for a moment, there were no words between you. Only the sound of the air moving in the car was audible. Jun-ho gently stroked your hair as you leaned on his shoulder, feeling his skin against yours.

"You won't give me a ticket for having sex in the car, will you?" you joked a moment later.

Jun Ho laughed softly, his lips brushing against your hair.

"No" He smiled in the darkness. "I think you've already paid me in full".

You laughed softly and leaned a little more into his arms.

[fumiliar]

you rarely get mad at kento, to be honest, there's nothing to get mad at. he's the perfect man, he's everything you've wanted and more. but it doesn't mean you never get mad at him. you always scold him when he spoils you too much, you hate it. today was one of those days, kento had promised to let you spoil him today, but you uneventfully had to work overtime, making you come home later than kento. so when you came home, you were fully prepared to start cooking dinner immediately, but instead, the smell of tomatoes flooded your senses. kento was cooking...for you.

anyone would love for their fiancé to spoil them after a long day, but you weren't up for it today. not when he's been spoiling you rotten and taking care of you for the past month, you just wanted to do something for him, but you couldn't. you were annoyed at yourself, so annoyed you had unfortunately misdirected this anger at your innocent fiancé who was peacefully cooking.

"hi love, i'm cooking some sp-"

"spaghetti. i know."

"are you upset? did something happen at work?"

"no!" you shouted, startling kento. "why do you think it's about work? it's you. you're the thing that is making me upset." hearing those words, he immediately turned off the stove, giving his undivided attention towards you.

"tell me what i did that made you upset, please," he approached you. he held your hand, drawing circles at the back of your palms with his thumb.

".......let me spoil you ken," you looked at him.

"you want to...spoil me?" kento's demeanour faltered, his stoic face had changed to a delighted one. his shoulders instantly relaxed.

"yes kento!" you shouted out of frustration. "you spoil me so much, i just.....want to do something for you."

"go ahead," he gave a quick peck on your cheek, quickly untying his apron. "where do you want to start first?"

[r0-boat]

🪶 anon here! Can I request headcanons for ZZZ Lighter, Billy, Anton, Ben Bigger, Wise, and Lycaon reacting to being under a mistletoe with his gn crush please?

Oh my God Oh my God I'm so late.

Pretend it's Christmas! just pretend! shut up!!

ZZZ Boys react being under the mistletoe

You smiled and chatted with a little group of your friends, the managers at random play hosted a Christmas party in their parking lot and who are you to decline your best friends! With a few chairs and tables Christmas lights and even a giant projector playing classic Christmas movies it quickly became very lively Even some of the people running the shop next door brought homemade food and treats, and some alcohol. After a drink or two and introducing yourself to a few people, You somehow made your way under a familiar green plant with someone you knew.

Lighter Lorenz

He'll try to act like he wasn't the one who tried so hard to look so casual standing close enough between you and the mistletoe. He'd been trying to get you underneath all night, And now that you're right next to him he had to hold back how much he was smiling as all he did was look up.

"Well, would you look at that... I'm not too familiar with the rules, are you?" The big fat liar said, letting a little curve of a smile grace his freshly moisturized lips from the chapstick he had used earlier. He was already sneaking his arms around your waist pulling you closer to kiss him. You decided to not call him out for his blatant lie as he almost completely took the lead and kissed you.

Billy Kid

He generally thought mistletoe was a myth, a myth that someone like him would never be under a plant like that. He didn't even know that The plant actually was a real life plant until Nicole had to explain to him what he was underneath. And once everything hits him all at once.

Billy.exe stopped working

He doesn't care if he can't feel your soft lips, the fact that you kissed him counts. But damn it was one of those days where he really wish he could feel maybe he should get that skin sensation update. It's expensive but any price he would pay to feel your lips again.

Anton Ivanov

The most chill out of everyone. "Oh I'm just giving you a kiss? Sure!" As he goes in to kiss you. Using the mistletoe as an excuse to kiss you has him fist bumping the air.

Anton is the kind of guy who makes his feelings for you known. He's also so blatant with his feelings that you think he's joking. If it was anywhere else on that mistletoe, he would have kissed them on the cheek or something, but no, for you. He makes sure to kiss you where it counts. He'll even ask "do you want more?"please say yes he would like that.

Ben Bigger

Poor bear he's practically shaking. Despite being twice your size He scared that he might hurt you or nip you on accident with his sharp teeth. "You don't have to if you don't want to... You can just kiss me right here." He says with a smile His claw pointing to his cheek. He could never accept a kiss from your lips. It's not the right time!

He'll make sure to bend to your height. His eyes closed, bracing for your soft lips. He could hear his heart pounding so loud that it drowned out everyone else. He hopes no one is looking. He might die from embarrassment or cardiac arrest, whichever one comes first.

You surprise him by touching his cute face and kissing his little nose. He hopes that you can't see his blushing face through his brown fur, but he's not helping to hide how he feels with his paws covering his face.

Wise

Damn it! He told his sister not to hang up that thing! And when trying to take it down you just so happen to bump into him. His eyes went wide as his heart jumped in his throat instantly forgetting what he was doing. His voice cracks as you point out the mistletoe that he's trying to reach for.

"Y-yeah That's there... Um... So listen you don't have to if you-" You were done hearing it as you kissed him on the lips. Thanking his self-restraint that day for swallowing his internal screaming. But he couldn't do much to hide the blush on his face as he smiled. "Forward aren't you... Save some for me." Four words that he will be regretting for the rest of his life.

Fine, the mistletoe can stay... For now, he'll have to thank his sister later.

Von Lycaon

To him a mistletoe is childish, Even as a younger pup He thought it was a little stupid. But with that bright smile on your face how could he refuse. Why spoil your fun? You look so happy to see him and you're cute face always makes his tail wag.

"where would you like my lips to lay?" He asks. When you appoint to your lips his eyebrows flick up for just a second before his smile widens. "Who am I to turn down such a request." He can't help but give you a little extra pressing his nose against your hand before moving to kiss your lips. Now he definitely understands the appeal of mistletoe.

Asaba Harumasa

He would probably take the mistletoe that is tied to the ceiling and bring it over to you. He taps your shoulder and jiggles it in his hand with a smug smile. He will regret this for the rest of his life, but who cares? He has a little alcohol in his system, and you're right there. His heart could burst when he felt your lips against his. He wanted more so badly. He tried to pull you in closer. His eyes were half-lit as if he were under a spell.

He had to stop himself from going in for another kiss. Your lips were so perfect. He wished he could do more than a quick peck, but with people watching, he couldn't just slip his tongue in your mouth.

[rose24207]

The Triangle’s Mercy

Summary: You defy the rules of life and death, sparing Player 333 on the field and pulling your gun on another player in the dormitory, leaving him questioning why a guard would protect him.

Genre: angst, dark, survival

TW: death, blood, guns, fights, the games in general, not 100% accurate

A/N: let me know if you want more of that! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

You stood in the sniper station high above the field, peering down through a small window as the players shuffled into position. It was your assigned post for the first game, Red Light, Green Light. From here, you had a perfect view of every player.

Your job was simple: if the doll detected movement, you would receive the player number through your earpiece. Once detected, you would pull the trigger without hesitation. That was the rule. No exceptions.

The field was eerily silent except for the nervous murmurs of the 456 contestants. Among them, your eyes caught Player 333, Myung-gi.

He looked calm but his hands were shaking, his feet barely steady beneath him. There was nothing special about him—just another face among the desperate masses. But something about the way he clung to hope, even in the face of calmness, struck a chord in you.

A beep drew out to signal the start of the game.

“Mugunghwa kkochi piotsseumnida.”

You held your breath. The field froze.

Your earpiece buzzed.

“Player 117. Movement detected.”

Your scope locked onto the target. A man in his mid-thirties stood near the back, his left foot trembling slightly as he struggled to balance.

Your gaze was sharp as you fired.

The crack of your rifle echoed across the field. The man fell instantly, a crimson stain spreading across his chest.

The song resumed, and the doll’s head swiveled back toward the trees. The remaining contestants hesitated, glancing at the fallen man, before cautiously moving forward again.

“Player 335 Movement detected.”

Another shot, another body collapsed. The doll’s sensors worked quickly, and you kept up with the pace, eliminating each target as the system flagged them.

The ground was slowly littered with bodies, some still, others leaking trails of red into the dirt.

Then came the voice of Player 456, shouting above the chaos

“Everybody, stop moving! Just freeze!”

His instructions spread like wildfire. The remaining players obeyed, standing still like statues. The field grew eerily quiet again.

You scanned the group for anyone who moved. You listened for instructions but none came.

As the game continued, your earpiece buzzed again.

“Player 333. Movement detected.”

You froze.

The scope of your rifle shifted automatically, locking onto Player 333. The young man, trembling violently, stood in the middle of the field. He had stumbled slightly, his foot dragging across the dirt. His face was pale, his lips quivering as if he was seconds from screaming.

He knew he moved.

You placed your finger on the trigger.

But something made you pause.

You were supposed to shoot.

But you didn’t.

Something inside you stopped you. Maybe it was the terror on his face or the way his chest heaved as he realized his mistake. Whatever it was, you couldn’t pull the trigger.

The doll’s scanners shifted, the moment passed, and Myung-gi froze again, acknowledging the fact to how close he had come to death.

He wasn’t the only one confused. Far below, Player 230, Thanos, watched him. His sharp eyes narrowed as he realized what had just happened: Myung-gi had moved, but he was still alive.

The game ended with a beep of the clock. The surviving players were herded back to the dormitory, their faces pale with shock. Bodies were dragged from the field, their screams and cries of mercy now replaced with an eerie silence.

The players sat or stood near the rows of towering bunk beds, their expressions a mix of fear, anger, and grief. You were stationed by the door, your rifle slung over your shoulder. The cold metal walls of the room seemed to amplify every whisper, every muffled sob.

But your focus remained on Player 333.

He sat on a lower bunk, staring at his hands. Across from him, Thanos approached, his face dark with suspicion.

“You,” Thanos exclaimed, crouching down to meet Myung-gi’s eye level. “You moved during the game. I saw it. Why aren’t you dead?”

Myung-gi blinked, startled. “What? No, I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Thanos growled, grabbing his collar. “The guards shot everyone else. Why not you?”

“I don’t know!” Myung-gi snapped, his voice shaky. “Maybe I didn’t move as much as you think—”

Thanos slammed him against the bed frame, rattling the metal bars. “You’re lying! You’re cheating somehow!”

The commotion drew the attention of nearby players, who watched nervously but kept their distance. You descended from your position by the doors, rifle in hand, and approached them.

“Break it up,” you ordered, your voice cold and sharp through the modulator.

Thanos looked up at you, his grip still on Myung-gi. “This one’s a fraud! He’s—”

“I said, break it up.”

Your rifle shifted, the barrel pointing directly at Thanos. The gesture was subtle but enough to make him freeze. Slowly, he released Myung-gi, his hands raising in surrender.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Thanos muttered, backing away cautiously.

Myung-gi remained pressed against the bed frame, his breathing heavy as he watched the exchange. His gaze flickered between you and Thanos, confusion evident in his expression.

Why had you intervened? Why was a guard protecting him?

You didn’t offer an explanation. Instead, you took a step closer to Thanos, your rifle still aimed at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Thanos nodded quickly, retreating into the crowd of players. The tension dissolved as he disappeared, leaving you and Myung-gi alone.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, hesitantly, Myung-gi asked, “Why… why did you do that?”

You stared at him through the mask, your heart pounding. You couldn’t answer, not without revealing too much. Instead, you simply turned and walked away, your boots echoing against the cold, metal floor.

Myung-gi watched you go, still confused but alive. And that was enough for now.

Thank you for reading!

[viasdiary]

can you write inexperienced luigi asking the reader to get him ready for college, like taking his virginity

☆ be my first (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ word count: 2.1k

☆ warnings: smut, crying, overstimulation, unprotected sex, barely proofread

☆ inexperienced luigi who tutored you through high school asks you to take his virginity before he goes off to college.

it’s late afternoon, and you’ve just stepped out of the shower when your phone rings. you see it’s luigi calling, and you answer almost instantly.

"hey," he greets you, his voice warm and familiar.

"hey, lu," you reply, a grin spreading across your face. "it's been, like, forever since we talked."

"i know," he says softly, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice, maybe even picture the slight blush creeping across his cheeks.

"what’s up?" you ask, curious.

his voice shifts slightly, a little hesitant, like he’s preparing for something important.

"i was wondering if i could come over later… i just have something i need some help with," he admits, sounding almost embarrassed.

"yeah, of course," you respond, offering him a reassuring tone.

"thanks," he breathes out, sounding relieved. "it means a lot. i'll see you later, then."

the hours stretch on as you wait for him to arrive. time feels like it’s moving agonizingly slow. you try to distract yourself, but your mind keeps drifting back to the upcoming visit. you haven't seen luigi in so long. you lay on your couch, looking out the large front window at the setting sun, golden light streaming into your small living room.

when the doorbell finally rings, you get up, take a deep breath to calm your racing thoughts. you open the door, and there he is.

luigi stands on your doorstep, looking even more handsome than usual, his usual nervous energy written all over him. his dark curls are slightly tousled, and he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and baggy jeans. his nervous fidgeting only makes him more endearing.

"hey," you greet him casually, trying to hide the rush of emotions swirling inside you.

"hey," he replies, his voice a little shaky, but his smile is warm. he steps over the threshold, and you gesture for him to sit down on the couch. you sit next to him, maintaining a little space between you, trying to let the air settle between you both.

an awkward silence falls over you two. you both seem to be searching for the right words. then, with a small sigh, you decide to break the ice.

"so, what did you need help with?" you ask, keeping your voice light but curious.

luigi takes a moment, his eyes flitting around the room before he finally speaks up. "i was wondering if you could help me… with something personal."

you nod, trying not to look too puzzled, though a small knot of curiosity tightens in your chest.

"uh, sure," you say, your voice calm, but your mind is already racing with possibilities.

"what is it?"

he hesitates for a moment, then seems to gather the courage to say it.

"i want to lose my virginity before i leave for college," he blurts out, his voice barely above a whisper.

you're caught off guard. the vulnerability in his words hits you hard. you never expected him to say something like that, especially not about you.

all the moments you’d shared, those study sessions, the way he'd always been there to help—did they mean something more to him all along? you’re suddenly overwhelmed with a mix of confusion and honor that he’s chosen you for such a deeply personal request.

“where is this even coming from?” you ask, still reeling from the shock. luigi's cheeks flush, and his eyes dart nervously to the side.

"i've always kinda had feelings for you," he admits, almost shyly. "but i was too scared to say anything before. and now that i’m leaving… i just don't want to go without having experienced this with someone i trust. someone who means a lot to me."

your heart races as you process his words. all those times he’d gone out of his way to help you, to be there for you, had it been more than just friendship all along?

"are you sure about this, lu?" you ask softly, your voice gentle, your hand unconsciously reaching out to touch his arm. "this is a big step. i don't want you to feel like you have to do it just because you're leaving." he looks at you, his expression more determined now, his voice steadier. "i’ve thought about it a lot. i’m sure."

a mix of emotions swells inside you—nervousness, excitement, and something deeper you can't quite put your finger on. this is a big moment, but you can tell he’s thought it through.

"okay," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. you gently place your hand on his arm, a comforting touch as you stand up and guide him down the hallway to your room.

there's no turning back now, and as you walk together, you know this moment will change everything between the two of you.

once in your room, you close the door, and the air becomes thick with anticipation. he takes a seat on the bed, looking nervous and unsure, so you move closer to him, trying to calm his nerves.

"we don't have to do anything you don't want to," you assure him.

"we can stop anytime, just-"

"no," he interrupts you, sounding firmer than usual.

"i want this, i want you to be my first"

there's an unspoken need in his voice, and you can tell he's serious. he places his hand on your thigh as he speaks, looking you deeply in the eyes.

you bite your lip to hold back the words that want to spill out. you want him, too.

he looks at you, his expression a mixture of nervousness and need, and you can't help but smile. you reach out and touch his cheek gently, feeling the heat rising under your fingertips.

you lean in slowly, giving him time to stop you, but he doesn’t. you press your lips to his, the kiss soft and tentative at first, then growing more passionate as he returns it. his hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, and you melt into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck. he finds his way on top of you as you embrace him, his weight slightly pressing you into the mattress.

your bodies press together, and you can feel the heat building between you. your hands wander across his back, sliding underneath his shirt, feeling his skin warm and soft against yours. you pull his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor, then run your fingers across his bare chest, tracing shapes around his freckles. he shivers at the contact. you part your lips and break the kiss.

"is this okay?" you ask, a whisper against his skin. his voice is low and desperate, his words coming out in a rush.

"god, yes," he says, his hands moving over your body, exploring every curve.

he slides his hands up the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach. you lift your arms, allowing him to remove your shirt and toss it aside.

his hands continue exploring your body, and you feel a growing warmth between your legs. he cups one of your breasts, gently massaging the sensitive flesh. you arch into his touch, and he leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"god, you're so beautiful," he whispers.

you moan softly, your fingers tangling in his curls, pulling him closer. you move your hips forward, grinding against him, eliciting a groan from him.

"you know how long i've wanted to do this?" he breathes "god, all the times you were in my room studying, i was so hard just fucking looking at you"

"shut up," you say, feeling a grin spreading across your face.

"i'm fuckin' serious," he says smiling against your skin

he begins to plant kisses down your neck and along your collarbone, his tongue flicking across the sensitive skin.

"fuck," you moan, your hips bucking against him.

"i've been waiting. so. long," he says, punctuating each word with a kiss.

you grip his shoulders, holding him close. he continues his exploration, trailing kisses across your chest, his hands sliding up your back.

his hands find the clasp of your bra, undoing it easily. he slides the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside. he cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing against the hard nipples, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"is this alright?" he asks, his voice low and uncertain. you bite your lip and nod, arching into his touch. he's a virgin, but he knows exactly what to do.

he leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently. you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. he moves his hands down, cupping your ass, pulling you closer.

"god, luigi," you gasp, the feeling of his tongue on your skin driving you crazy.

he smiles against your skin, his eyes dark and hungry. he begins to tug at the waistband of your pants, and you eagerly lift your hips, letting him slide them off. he tosses them aside, his gaze never leaving yours.

"so fuckin' gorgeous," he murmurs, his hands roaming across your bare skin.

he slides a hand down the front of your underwear, and you gasp as his fingers brush against your clit.

"luigi," you moan, arching into his touch.

"you want this, don't you?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle. you nod, feeling the wetness pooling between your legs. he presses his thumb against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. you cry out, gripping his shoulders tightly. he slides a finger inside you, curling it slightly.

"yes," you gasp, your hips moving against him.

"tell me," he groans.

"i want you, luigi," you moan, your voice needy. "i want you so bad." he withdraws his hand, and you whimper at the loss of contact. he strips off his remaining clothes, and you admire his toned body and his delicately placed freckles. he kneels between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs.

he positions himself at your entrance, and you moan softly, desperate for him to be inside you.

"please," you whimper.

"i need you."

he enters you slowly, a whine escaping his lips. he'd never felt pleasure so intense before. you're both overcome with the feeling of each other. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"fuck," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. he thrusts into you slowly, taking his time. you're both lost in the sensation, your bodies pressed together.

"oh god, luigi," you moan, raking your nails down his back.

"you feel so fuckin' good," he says, his voice a low moan.

you feel yourself tightening around him. he thrusts harder, hitting just the right spot.

"fuck," you cry out, clinging to him desperately.

"god, i'm gonna cum," he gasps, his hips moving faster. you could feel his need, his desire for you, his love.

"let go, baby," you whisper, cupping his face in your hands. "i've got you."

he finishes with a cry, burying his face in your neck, his body trembling with pleasure.

"jesus," he says, his breathing ragged. he collapses on top of you, and you hold him close, running your fingers through his soft curls.

"did you finish?" he asks, still breathless.

"no," you reply, feeling a little embarrassed. "can we keep going?"

he looks down at you, his expression one of pure bliss.

"god, yes," he says with a soft chuckle.

he kisses you hungrily, his hands roaming across your body. he reaches down, circling your clit with his thumb.

"oh god," you moan, arching into his touch. he keeps thrusting into you, and you feel him shaking and overstimulated

"you're so fuckin' tight," he says softly.

you cling to him, the pressure building inside you. you're both teetering on the edge again, the sensation overwhelming.

"oh fuck, luigi," you gasp, your nails digging into his back. he's trembling as he pounds into you relentlessly, you can feel him crying against your chest.

"i love you," he whimpers.

"oh god, i love you too."

it hits you suddenly, the orgasm ripping through your body. you cry out, clinging to him, your entire body shaking.

"god, yes," he groans, his hips stuttering. he comes undone, spilling inside you once again.

you're both spent, sweaty, and breathing hard. he pulls out and rolls onto his back, his chest heaving.

"fuck,"

he mutters.

"god, you were amazing."

[elryuse]

ANTHEM pt.2

Multiple Female Idols X Male Reader

Tags : HAREM, MULTIPLE FEMALE LOVE INTEREST, BLACKMAIL, SEDCUTION

Words : 3,4k

For My Other ANTHEM Stories, Please Kindly Check Over Here. Hope You Guys Enjoyed It.

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow over Y/n’s room. He stretched lazily, his mind still hazy from the events of the night before. The memory of Karina’s touch lingered on his skin like a delicate burn, and he couldn’t help but smile as he replayed their secret moments in his head. But the smile faltered when he remembered Winter—her sly grin, the photo she took, and the way she had left him with that ominous promise.

Y/n dressed quickly, trying to push his unease aside as he headed to the practice studio. The other members were already there, gathered in their usual spots, chatting and stretching. Karina caught his eye immediately, her lips curving into the faintest smile. They didn’t speak, but the warmth in her gaze was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

“Good morning, oppa!” Wonyoung chirped, waving energetically. Her bubbly energy was infectious, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh as he returned the greeting. Yujin gave him a playful wink, while Chaewon and Yeji exchanged knowing smirks. It was always hard to tell if they were teasing him or just being their usual mischievous selves.

But then Winter walked in, and the atmosphere shifted.

She sauntered into the room with an air of confidence that demanded attention, her eyes locking onto Y/n’s almost instantly. There was something about the way she looked at him—like she knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. Y/n’s stomach twisted as she approached, her lips curling into a smirk that made his pulse quicken.

“Morning, everyone,” Winter said sweetly, though her gaze never left Y/n. “I was thinking of grabbing some coffee. Oppa, you should come with me. I need someone strong to carry all the drinks.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “Unless anyone else wants something?”

The others murmured their orders, barely paying attention as they continued their warm-ups. Y/n hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Before he could protest, Winter turned to him, her phone already in hand. She tapped the screen once, and Y/n felt his blood run cold.

It was a photo—blurry but unmistakable. Him and Karina, tangled together in his bed. His heart slammed against his ribs as Winter leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Let’s go, bae,” she purred, slipping her arm through his.

Y/n’s mouth went dry. He glanced at Karina, who was watching them with a frown of confusion, clearly unaware of what was happening. Unable to think of a way out, he nodded stiffly and followed Winter out of the room.

The walk to the café was tense, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. Winter hummed a tune under her breath, her fingers brushing against his arm every so often as if to remind him she was still there. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Relax, oppa,” she said, her tone light but laced with something darker. “I’m not going to bite… yet.”

Y/n swallowed hard. “Winter, what do you want?”

She stopped walking and turned to face him, her expression suddenly serious. “What do you think I want?” she countered, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. Her perfume enveloped him, sweet and intoxicating.

“I don’t know,” Y/n admitted, his voice shaky. “But if you’re planning to blackmail me—”

Winter cut him off with a low laugh. “Blackmail? That’s such a harsh word. Let’s call it… negotiation.” She reached up, her fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw. “You see, oppa, I’ve always been curious about you. The only guy in our group, surrounded by all these beautiful women…” Her hand slid down to his chest, resting over his pounding heart. “And yet, you only seem to have eyes for Karina.”

Y/n’s breath hitched. “Winter…”

“Shh,” she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything. Just listen.” Her eyes locked onto his, gleaming with a mix of mischief and desire. “I’m not asking you to stop whatever it is you’re doing with Karina. I’m just saying… why limit yourself? After all, sharing is caring, right?”

Before Y/n could react, Winter closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was both demanding and teasing. He froze, torn between pushing her away and giving in to the heat building between them. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against his in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and her breathing was uneven. “Think about it, oppa,” she murmured, her voice husky. “No one has to know. Not Karina, not the others… just us.”

Y/n’s mind raced, his thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt, desire, and fear. He opened his mouth to respond, but Winter pressed a finger to his lips again, silencing him.

“No need to answer now,” she said with a sly smile. “We’ve got plenty of time.” With that, she turned and continued walking toward the café, leaving Y/n standing there, his heart pounding and his world spinning out of control.

As he followed her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to spiral even further out of his grasp. And the worst part? A small, traitorous part of him wasn’t entirely opposed to Winter’s proposition.

The café was bustling with activity when Y/n and Winter arrived, the chatter of customers filling the air. Winter’s hand lingered on his arm a moment longer than necessary as they stepped inside, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. She flashed him a mischievous smile, one that made his stomach twist in a mix of anticipation and dread.

“Let’s grab our drinks,” she said, her voice light and breezy, as if nothing unusual had happened between them. But the glint in her eyes betrayed her casual tone. She sauntered over to the counter, hips swaying slightly, and Y/n followed, his heart still racing from their earlier conversation.

As they waited in line, Winter leaned closer to him, her breath warm against his ear. “You know,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing, “this place has the best storage closet. Perfect for… private conversations.”

Y/n stiffened, his pulse quickening. He glanced at her, trying to gauge whether she was serious or just toying with him again. But the way she looked at him—her lips parted, her gaze heavy with intent—told him everything he needed to know.

Before he could protest, Winter grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the line, leading him down a narrow hallway toward the back of the café. His mind screamed at him to stop, to turn around, but his body betrayed him, following her willingly. The thrill of danger, the forbidden nature of what they were about to do, was intoxicating.

She pushed open the door to the storage closet, a small, dimly lit space filled with shelves of supplies. As soon as they were inside, she closed the door behind them, plunging them into near darkness. The only light came from a crack under the door, casting faint shadows across their faces.

Winter didn’t waste any time. She pressed herself against him, her hands sliding up his chest. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” she whispered, her voice dripping with confidence. “Admit it, oppa. You want this.”

Y/n’s breathing grew shallow, his resolve crumbling under the weight of her words. “Winter, we shouldn’t—” he started, but she cut him off with a sharp look.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said, her tone firm yet playful. “I can see it in your eyes. You like the risk. You like the idea of doing something you know you shouldn’t.”

He couldn’t deny it. The truth was, there was something undeniably thrilling about being alone with her like this, knowing how wrong it was. And Winter knew exactly how to exploit that.

She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging gently as she brought his face closer to hers. Their lips met in a searing kiss, full of pent-up desire and reckless abandon. Y/n’s hands found her waist, pulling her even closer as their bodies pressed together. The heat between them was overwhelming, a fire that threatened to consume them both.

Winter broke the kiss, her breathing uneven, and began unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, sending shivers down his spine. “So strong,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “No wonder Karina can’t keep her hands off you.”

The mention of Karina made Y/n flinch, guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind. But Winter didn’t give him time to dwell on it. She kissed him again, deeper this time, her tongue exploring his mouth with a hunger that left him dizzy.

Her hands trailed lower, unbuckling his belt with nimble fingers. Y/n’s breath hitched as she reached for the waistband of his pants, her touch deliberate and unhurried. Every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, erasing any lingering doubts.

Winter dropped to her knees, her eyes locking with his as she slowly pulled down his pants. The intensity of her gaze made his heart race even faster. She ran her hands up his thighs, her touch feather-light, before leaning in and placing a soft kiss just below his navel.

Y/n’s head fell back against the wall, a low groan escaping his lips as Winter continued to tease him. She took her time, savoring every reaction she drew from him. When she finally took him into her mouth, he couldn’t hold back a gasp, his fingers tangling in her hair.

The room felt impossibly hot, their bodies slick with sweat as the tension between them reached its peak. Winter paused, looking up at him with a wicked grin. “You taste amazing,” she purred, before licking a trail of sweat from his stomach. “Salty… and so addictive.”

Her playful gesture sent another wave of desire crashing over him. He pulled her up, crushing his lips to hers as he fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. Once it was off, he cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra, eliciting a soft moan from her.

Winter arched into his touch, her hands working quickly to remove the rest of their clothes. They stumbled backward, knocking over a stack of boxes as they moved. The sound of clattering items echoed in the small space, but neither of them cared. All that mattered was the electric connection between them, the undeniable need driving them forward.

When they finally came together, it was with a sense of urgency, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Winter wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails digging into his back as she whispered his name over and over. Each thrust brought them closer to the edge, their breaths mingling in the confined space.

Just as they were about to reach their climax, Winter pulled back slightly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Not yet,” she breathed, her voice shaky but determined. “I want to make this last.”

Y/n groaned in frustration, but he didn’t argue. There was something exhilarating about letting her take control, about surrendering himself completely to her whims. She slowed their pace, drawing out each movement until the tension became almost unbearable.

When they finally let go, it was with a shared cry of release, their bodies trembling as they clung to each other. For a long moment, they stayed like that, catching their breath and basking in the afterglow.

Winter was the first to break the silence, a sly smile playing on her lips. “We should probably get cleaned up,” she said, gesturing to the mess they’d made. “And grab those drinks before anyone wonders where we are.”

Y/n nodded, though his mind was still reeling from what had just happened. As they dressed quickly, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt creeping in. What would Karina think if she found out? And what about the others? But Winter seemed unfazed, humming softly as she adjusted her hair in the reflection of a metal shelf.

When they finally emerged from the storage closet, the café was just as busy as before. No one seemed to notice their absence, let alone suspect what they’d been up to. Winter linked her arm with his, leaning in close as they approached the counter.

“Order whatever you want,” she said with a wink. “Drinks are on me. Oh, and don’t forget…” She lowered her voice, her breath hot against his ear. “This is just the beginning, oppa.”

The café buzzed with life as Y/n and Winter returned to the table, drinks in hand. The other members were deep in conversation, their laughter echoing through the space. Y/n handed Karina her iced americano, his fingers brushing hers for just a moment too long. She smiled up at him, patting the empty seat beside her.

“Sit,” she said softly, her voice warm despite the exhaustion lining her features. Y/n obeyed without hesitation, sinking into the chair next to her. He could feel the heat of her body even before she leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair brushing against his neck. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a thrill through him, grounding him in the moment.

From across the room, Winter’s eyes burned into them. Her gaze was cold, almost predatory, as she sipped her drink slowly. But Y/n didn’t notice—or maybe he chose not to. Right now, all he cared about was the way Karina’s breath hitched slightly when their thighs brushed under the table.

The group around them chattered animatedly, their energy infectious. Wonyoung was recounting a story about a fan who had mistaken her for someone else at a recent event, her hands waving dramatically as she spoke. Yeji chimed in with teasing remarks, her sharp wit drawing laughter from the others. Even Chaewon, usually more reserved, was grinning broadly, her cheeks flushed from the excitement.

Y/n tried to focus on the conversation, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Karina. She looked so beautiful like this, he thought, stealing a glance at her. Her lashes fanned against her cheeks as she closed her eyes briefly, her lips curving into a small smile. It was moments like these that made him forget everything else—Winter’s scheming, the pressure of their comeback, the weight of their secret.

But then he caught Winter’s eye. She was still watching them, her expression unreadable. There was something unsettling about the way she held his gaze, as if she were daring him to look away first. Y/n frowned slightly, a flicker of unease creeping into his chest. What did she want from him? And why couldn’t she just let him enjoy this moment?

Karina seemed to sense his discomfort, lifting her head slightly to follow his line of sight. When she spotted Winter, her smile faltered for just a second before she turned back to Y/n. “Hey,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the café. “You okay?”

He nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Karina studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. But before she could say anything else, Yeji called out to her, pulling her attention away. Y/n exhaled quietly, relieved. He didn’t want to worry her—not when she already had so much on her plate.

As the conversation continued, Y/n found himself zoning out again, his mind wandering back to the storage closet. The memory of Winter’s hands on him, her lips against his skin, sent a shiver down his spine. He hated how conflicted he felt—how part of him still craved the thrill of their secret encounters, even as guilt gnawed at him.

“Oppa,” Wonyoung’s voice broke through his thoughts, startling him slightly. “Are you going to eat that?” She gestured to the untouched pastry on his plate, her eyes wide and pleading.

Y/n chuckled, pushing the plate toward her. “All yours.”

Wonyoung grinned, grabbing the pastry eagerly. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

The mood at the table lightened again, the tension momentarily forgotten. But Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Winter standing there, but she was gone. His stomach twisted uneasily. Where had she gone? And what was she planning now?

Karina shifted beside him, her hand resting lightly on his knee under the table. The touch was casual, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him. He turned to her, meeting her gaze. There was something in her eyes—something soft and knowing—that made his heart ache.

Does she suspect? he wondered, panic rising in his chest. But Karina simply smiled, leaning closer until her lips brushed his ear. “Relax,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin. “We’ll figure it out.”

Her words should have comforted him, but they only deepened his guilt. How could she be so trusting when he was keeping so much from her? He wanted to tell her everything—about Winter, about the photo, about the impossible position he was in—but he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Instead, he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together beneath the table. Karina squeezed gently, her touch reassuring. For a moment, it was enough to quiet the storm in his mind.

But then Winter reappeared, sliding into the seat directly across from him. She set her drink down with deliberate care, her eyes locking onto his. There was a challenge in her gaze—a silent reminder of the power she held over him. Y/n tensed, his grip tightening instinctively around Karina’s hand.

“So,” Winter began, her tone deceptively light, “anyone else excited for the comeback showcase? I heard the choreography is killer this time.”

The others nodded enthusiastically, launching into a discussion about the new routine. Y/n forced himself to join in, though his mind was elsewhere. Winter’s foot bumped against his under the table, lingering just long enough to make her intentions clear. He pulled away sharply, his pulse quickening.

Karina glanced between them, her brow furrowing slightly. “Everything okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Winter smiled sweetly, her expression innocent. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Y/n swallowed hard, his throat dry. He couldn’t do this—not here, not in front of everyone. But Winter seemed determined to push him, her every word and action designed to remind him of the hold she had over him.

As the conversation continued, Winter leaned forward slightly, her elbow brushing against Y/n’s as she reached for her drink. Her perfume—something floral and subtly intoxicating—wafted toward him, making his head spin. He could feel her thigh pressing against his under the table, her proximity sending a rush of heat through him.

Karina shifted again, her hand slipping from his as she reached for her coffee. Y/n froze, his breath catching in his throat. Winter smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You know,” she said casually, turning to address the group, “I think we should celebrate after the showcase. Maybe a night out? Just the seven of us.”

There were murmurs of agreement, the others clearly on board with the idea. But Y/n couldn’t focus on that. All he could think about was the way Winter’s foot was tracing small circles against his ankle, her touch light but insistent.

“Sounds fun,” Karina replied, though her tone was hesitant. She glanced at Y/n, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you think?”

Y/n opened his mouth to respond, but Winter beat him to it. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll love it,” she said with a wink. “Right, oppa?”

He stiffened, his jaw clenching. This was getting out of hand. He needed to put a stop to it—before things escalated further. But how?

Before he could formulate a response, Winter stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Well, I’m heading back to the dorm. Anyone coming with me?”

The others exchanged glances, clearly torn. “We’ll catch up later,” Yeji said after a moment, waving her off. “Don’t wait up.”

Winter shrugged, slinging her bag over her shoulder. As she walked past Y/n, her hand grazed his shoulder, her nails digging in just enough to leave a mark. “See you soon,” she murmured, her tone dripping with implication.

Y/n’s stomach churned as he watched her go, a mix of dread and anticipation swirling inside him. He knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. And as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he had a feeling things were about to get a lot more complicated.

To Be Continued

[novaursa]

A Lion's Folly

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Paring: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

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

The cold air bites at his face as Jaime Lannister dismounts his horse, his armor catching the pale Northern sunlight. Around him, the bustling retinue of the royal procession begins to settle, attendants scattering to prepare for the King’s arrival. Yet, as his gaze sweeps across the courtyard of Winterfell, Jaime’s mind is far from the cold, far from his duties, and even far from Cersei.

You stand by your family, a quiet and poised figure amidst the wolves. Your dark cloak, trimmed with fur, clings to your shoulders, framing the soft lines of your face. Your hair glints in the light, a rich hue reminiscent of autumn leaves, and Jaime’s breath catches in his throat. There’s something about the way you hold yourself, the proud tilt of your chin, the quiet intensity in your eyes as you watch the King approach your father.

For a man who had once thought himself incapable of wanting anything beyond what he already had, this moment feels like a betrayal of everything he believed about himself.

He shouldn’t look at you, yet he does. He shouldn’t think about you, yet he knows, already, that he will.

The evening feast is lively, as all gatherings in Winterfell tend to be. The great hall is warm with roaring fires, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine filling the air. Jaime sits among the knights of the Kingsguard, a golden lion among his brothers in white, but his eyes stray across the room to where you sit at the high table with your family.

You laugh at something Robb whispers to you, your smile lighting up your face. It’s not a smile meant for him, but gods, how he wishes it were. He tells himself it’s a passing fancy, that you’re nothing more than a pretty distraction in a dreary northern hall. Yet, when your gaze briefly flicks his way—entirely by chance—his heart jolts. You look away almost instantly, oblivious, but it’s enough to set his blood aflame.

“You’re staring, brother.” Tyrion’s voice interrupts his thoughts, sharp and laced with amusement. The younger Lannister leans back in his chair, his mismatched eyes gleaming with mischief as he follows Jaime’s gaze. “And at the Stark girl, no less. A dangerous game, wouldn’t you say?”

Jaime tears his eyes away from you, scowling at Tyrion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Tyrion replies with mock innocence. “But if you did, you might consider that our dear queen wouldn’t take kindly to your… wandering attentions. Nor, I suspect, would her father. And let’s not even think about Lord Stark. I hear he has a way of parting men’s heads from their shoulders.”

Jaime’s jaw tightens. He knows Tyrion is right, of course. Whatever this strange, sudden longing is, it’s not something he can act on. Yet, as he glances back at you, he finds himself wondering what it would take to make you look at him the way you look at your brother.

Later, as the hall begins to empty and the fires burn low, Jaime finds himself wandering the courtyard. He tells himself it’s for the fresh air, but deep down, he knows better. The truth finds him soon enough when he sees you there, standing by the kennels with your direwolf pup at your side. The creature is a pale, ghostly thing, its eyes sharp and intelligent as it watches him approach.

“Ser Jaime,” you greet him politely, your voice soft but steady. There’s no fear in your tone, only curiosity. “What brings you outside? The warmth of the hall doesn’t suit you?”

He smiles, a practiced, easy expression that hides the turmoil beneath. “Perhaps I needed a break from the noise. The North has a way of making a man appreciate silence.”

You nod, stroking the wolf’s fur absentmindedly. “Winterfell is quieter than King’s Landing, I imagine. Though I’ve never been.”

The way you say it, with a hint of longing, makes him pause. “You’ve never been to the capital?”

You shake your head. “No. My father prefers to keep us here, close to home. My mother says the South isn’t meant for wolves.”

“Perhaps not,” he agrees, though he can’t help but think how wrong that is. You would shine in the South, your beauty and grace unmatched by any courtier or queen. The thought of you in the Red Keep—so near, yet so far—sends an ache through him.

You glance at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Do you miss it? The South, I mean.”

He hesitates, caught off guard by the question. Does he miss the South? The warm sun, the endless intrigue, the weight of his family’s expectations? “Sometimes,” he admits. “But there are things worth appreciating in the North.”

It’s a simple statement, but the way his eyes linger on you as he says it betrays his meaning. You tilt your head slightly, studying him, but before you can respond, the direwolf lets out a low growl, breaking the moment.

Jaime chuckles, taking a cautious step back. “It seems your wolf doesn’t trust me.”

“Winter is protective,” you reply, patting the pup’s head. “But he’ll come around.”

Jaime isn’t so sure. The wolf isn’t the only one he’ll have to win over, and he knows it. Yet, as he watches you disappear back into the warmth of the castle, he can’t help but think that you might be worth the risk.

The next morning, Jaime finds himself once again in Winterfell’s training yard. The clang of swords fills the crisp northern air, accompanied by shouts from young men sparring under the watchful eyes of Jory Cassel. Jaime usually enjoys watching such displays, though they pale in comparison to his own skill with a blade. Today, however, his attention is elsewhere.

You stand on the edge of the yard, wrapped in a dark cloak to ward off the morning chill. Winter, your direwolf, sits dutifully at your side, her fur gleaming in the pale sunlight. Jaime notices the way your gloved hand absently strokes the wolf’s head as you observe your younger brothers practice with wooden swords. There’s a faint smile on your lips, one of quiet pride, and it’s enough to make his chest tighten.

For the hundredth time since his arrival, Jaime curses himself for this weakness. You are a Stark, born and bred, and your father would sooner see him dead than allow him to so much as glance your way. Yet his gaze strays to you regardless, drawn like a moth to flame.

“Are you going to keep staring, or will you finally say something?” The voice belongs to Jon Snow, who stands a few paces away with his sword in hand. His tone is quiet, but his grey eyes are sharp, a touch of irritation flickering behind them.

Jaime straightens, masking his surprise with a smirk. “Staring? I don’t know what you mean.”

Jon’s lips press into a thin line. “You’ve been looking at my sister since you arrived.”

At that, Jaime’s smirk falters. He glances toward you, but you’re still focused on the sparring match, oblivious to the conversation. Winter, however, seems to sense the tension and looks toward him, wolf's icy blue eyes meeting his.

“I think you’re mistaken,” Jaime says smoothly, though his pulse quickens. “Your sister is a lovely young lady, but I assure you, I have no improper intentions.”

Jon’s expression darkens. “You’re a Lannister. Everything about you is improper.”

The accusation stings, though Jaime hides it well. He steps closer, lowering his voice so only Jon can hear. “Careful, Snow. You might have Stark blood in your veins, but you’re still a bastard. Don’t presume to lecture me on propriety.”

Jon bristles, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. For a moment, Jaime wonders if the boy will strike him. Instead, Jon takes a measured breath and steps back, his gaze still burning with suspicion.

“Stay away from her,” he says simply before walking back toward the training yard. Jaime watches him go, his jaw tight.

The day drags on, and Jaime finds himself more restless than ever. Every time he catches a glimpse of you—walking with Sansa in the godswood, speaking quietly with Maester Luwin, laughing softly at something Arya said—his resolve weakens. By the time the evening feast begins, he’s resigned himself to another torturous night of stolen glances and unspoken desires.

The great hall is alive with laughter and conversation when Jaime enters, though he barely hears it. His eyes immediately seek you out, finding you seated beside your mother near the high table. You look radiant, even in the simple Stark colors, your hair falling in loose waves over your shoulders. He forces himself to look away, focusing instead on the goblet in front of him.

“Still pining, are we?” Tyrion’s voice cuts through his thoughts, low and amused. The younger Lannister has appeared beside him, a knowing smile on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaime replies, his tone clipped.

“Oh, come now, brother,” Tyrion says, pouring himself a generous helping of wine. “You’ve been staring at her as if she’s the Maiden herself come to life. It’s quite unlike you.”

Jaime glares at him. “Drop it, Tyrion.”

“Gladly,” Tyrion says, raising his goblet in mock surrender. “But you might want to be more careful. The Starks are an observant lot, and I doubt they’ll take kindly to a Lannister coveting their eldest daughter.”

Jaime doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening as Tyrion saunters away. He risks another glance at you, only to find your brother Jon watching him from across the hall. The boy’s expression is unreadable, but the weight of his scrutiny is unmistakable.

Later that night, Jaime finds himself wandering the courtyard again. The cold air bites at his skin, yet it does little to extinguish the fire raging within him. He curses himself under his breath, berating his foolishness. How could he allow his thoughts, his eyes, and now even his heart to betray him? A Stark of all people—a wolf, untouchable and pure in her Northern pride.

He’s so lost in his turmoil that he doesn’t notice your presence until Winter’s soft growl cuts through the silence. He looks up sharply, finding you only a few feet away, the wolf standing protectively at your side. The moonlight catches in your hair, casting an almost ethereal glow around you, and Jaime feels his chest tighten.

“Ser Jaime,” you greet him, your voice soft yet steady. There’s a hint of curiosity in your tone, as if you’re surprised to see him here.

Jaime straightens, his heart stuttering at the sound of your voice. He bows slightly, forcing himself to maintain his composure. “Lady Y/N,” he replies, his voice smooth despite the turmoil within. “Out for a stroll?”

You nod, your breath forming faint clouds in the cold air. “I could ask the same of you, Ser Jaime. Though I didn’t think knights of the Kingsguard wandered alone at night.”

He chuckles lightly, the sound hollow to his own ears. “Even knights need a moment of quiet now and then,” he says, his hand tucked discreetly behind his back. “The North, for all its chill, does have its charms.”

You tilt your head slightly, studying him as Winter’s piercing gaze mirrors your own. “And what charms would those be?” you ask, your tone light, but your eyes keen.

Jaime hesitates, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. The truth lingers on the edge of his tongue—that it’s you, your presence, the way you make the world feel brighter even in the dead of winter. But he swallows the words, masking his emotions as he always has.

“The stars, perhaps,” he says smoothly, gesturing toward the clear night sky. “King’s Landing rarely grants us such a view.”

You glance upward, and for a moment, your expression softens. “They are beautiful,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “The North feels closer to the heavens.”

Jaime watches you, his eyes tracing the curve of your profile. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, fearing that his voice will betray the yearning he’s so desperately trying to suppress.

After a moment, you glance back at him, your expression unreadable. “Goodnight, Ser Jaime,” you say simply, a polite smile gracing your lips. There’s no hesitation as you turn and begin walking back toward the castle, Winter padding silently at your side.

Jaime doesn’t move, his gaze fixed on your retreating figure. The ache in his chest grows heavier with every step you take, but he remains rooted in place, unwilling to call after you. He knows this desire is foolish—impossible, even—but gods help him, he can’t seem to let it go.

As the shadows swallow you whole, Jaime exhales slowly, the cold air burning his lungs. He turns back toward the castle, his mind a tangled mess of longing and guilt. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears Tyrion’s voice again, mocking him for his weakness, warning him of the consequences. And yet, for the first time in his life, Jaime finds himself wanting something he can never have, and he’s not sure he can stop.

The air inside the old tower is thick and stifling despite the chill that permeates Winterfell. Jaime paces restlessly, the sound of his boots echoing against the stone walls. His white cloak feels heavy, a constant reminder of the weight he carries—not just from his duty but from the turmoil in his heart. The torchlight casts specters across the room, but none darker than those in his thoughts.

Behind him, Cersei leans against the table, her arms crossed, her green eyes fixed on him with a mixture of irritation and suspicion. She looks as regal and dangerous as ever, her beauty as dangerous as a dagger. But tonight, it does nothing to soothe him. If anything, her presence feels suffocating.

“You’ve been different,” she says finally, her voice low and accusing. “Distant. Distracted. You barely look at me, Jaime.”

He stops pacing, turning to face her. “We’re in the North, Cersei. It’s not exactly a place for… indulgences.” His words come out clipped, and even as he says them, he knows she won’t accept them.

Cersei’s eyes narrow. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve known you all my life, Jaime. I know when your mind is elsewhere.” She steps closer, her tone softening, though the edge remains. “Is it that Stark girl? The one you keep staring at when you think no one notices?”

Jaime’s heart pounds in his chest, a flush of guilt and anger rising to his face. “Leave her out of this.”

Her laugh is cold and sharp, like the crack of ice. “Oh, how noble of you. Is that what this is, then? You’ve decided to play the gallant knight now? To pine for some Northern wolf pup who’d sooner slit your throat than look at you twice?”

“Enough, Cersei,” Jaime snaps, his voice harsher than he intended. “You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she interrupts, stepping closer until they’re nearly face to face. Her voice drops to a venomous whisper. “You’re mine, Jaime. You’ve always been mine. And now, in this frozen wasteland, you’re letting your mind wander to some girl who wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

He exhales sharply, taking a step back. “This isn’t about her. It’s about us. About what we’ve become.” He gestures between them. “Do you even remember who we were before all this? Before the lies, the secrets?”

Cersei’s face twists in fury. “Don’t you dare lecture me about lies. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for us. For our family. And now you’re standing here, acting like you’re above it all.”

Jaime shakes his head, his voice dropping. “I’m tired, Cersei. Tired of living like this. Of hiding. Of lying to myself.”

For a moment, there’s silence between them, broken only by the distant howl of the wind outside. Then Cersei steps forward, her hands reaching for him, her expression softening into something almost pleading.

“We don’t have to lie, Jaime,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing against his chest. “Not here. Not now. It’s just us.”

But as her hands move to pull him closer, Jaime steps back, gently but firmly pushing her away. The rejection is immediate and cutting, and he sees the fury ignite in her eyes.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice firm. “Not tonight, Cersei.”

Her face hardens, her voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. “You’re a fool if you think you can walk away from this. From me.”

Before Jaime can respond, a faint noise catches his attention—a soft creak from above. His eyes dart to the window, and there he sees it: a boy, perched precariously on the ledge, his wide eyes staring down at them.

“Bran Stark,” Jaime mutters under his breath, realization hitting him like a blow.

Cersei follows his gaze, her expression darkening with panic. “He heard us,” she whispers, her voice frantic. “He’ll tell.”

Jaime feels his heart race, a thousand thoughts colliding in his mind. If the boy overheard their argument, their secret could unravel everything—their lives, their children, their fragile hold on power. He takes a step toward the window, his movements measured.

The boy’s gaze flicks between them, fear etched across his young face. “I didn’t see anything,” Bran stammers, his voice shaking. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”

Jaime’s chest tightens. He knows the boy is lying. He would run straight to his father, to the honorable Eddard Stark, and the consequences would be disastrous.

“Jaime,” Cersei hisses, her voice sharp and urgent. “You have to do something.”

He looks back at her, then at Bran. His mind feels like it’s splintering in two, but deep down, he knows what must be done. Slowly, he moves closer to the window, his expression unreadable.

“The things I do for love,” he murmurs, the words bitter on his tongue.

Before Bran can react, Jaime reaches out, his hand striking with calculated force. The boy lets out a startled cry as he loses his balance, tumbling backward out the window and into the void below.

For a moment, there’s silence. Jaime stands frozen, his heart pounding as he stares at the empty window. Cersei’s breathing is heavy behind him, her hand clutching the table for support.

“It had to be done,” she says finally, her voice shaky but resolute.

Jaime doesn’t respond. He feels hollow, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a mountain. As he turns away from the window, he catches his reflection in the light—the face of a man who has just crossed another line he swore he never would.

The days after Bran Stark’s fall are cloaked in a heavy silence, broken only by the whispers of servants and the occasional sob echoing through Winterfell’s halls. Jaime feels the weight of it everywhere he goes. He had known the boy’s fall would ripple through the Stark family like a shockwave, but seeing the grief firsthand is something else entirely.

He avoids the godswood, where Lord Stark retreats daily, his shoulders heavy with unspoken blame. He avoids the Great Hall, where the Starks’ laughter has been replaced with quiet murmurs and somber meals. But he cannot avoid you—not when every time he catches a glimpse of you, his chest tightens with guilt.

You are a ghost of yourself now, a shadow lingering by Bran’s chambers. You rarely leave his side, seated by his bed with your mother, Lady Catelyn, as the boy lies in his endless sleep. The firelight from his room casts flickering shadows across your face, accentuating the hollowness in your eyes, the pallor of your cheeks. Jaime has never seen you like this, and it tears at something inside him.

On the third day, Jaime makes a decision he knows he shouldn’t. He tells himself it’s for appearances, to offer his condolences like any dutiful guest, but deep down, he knows it’s more selfish than that. He hopes, foolishly, that speaking to you—seeing you—might ease the gnawing guilt clawing at his chest.

He climbs the tower steps slowly, each creak of the stone beneath his boots echoing louder in his ears. When he reaches Bran’s chamber, the door is ajar, allowing him a glimpse of the scene within.

Catelyn sits closest to the bed, her face pale and drawn, her hand gripping Bran’s small, lifeless fingers. Beside her, you sit silent and still, your gaze fixed on the boy’s face. Winter and Summer curled at your feet, their fur dull in the dim light. There is something devastating about the stillness of it all, as though the grief in the room has frozen time itself.

Jaime clears his throat softly, stepping into the doorway. “Lady Stark,” he says, his voice measured, “Lady Y/N. I wanted to offer my condolences.”

Catelyn looks up abruptly, her blue eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and suspicion. You, however, don’t move. You don’t even glance in his direction, as if his presence isn’t worth acknowledging. It’s as though you know, and the thought sends a jolt of unease through him.

Catelyn rises slowly, her movements deliberate as she steps toward him. She doesn’t bow, doesn’t offer him the courtesy one might expect toward a knight of the Kingsguard. Instead, she crosses her arms, her voice cold as the northern winds.

“Your words are noted, Ser Jaime,” she says, her tone sharp enough to cut. “But they will not wake my son.”

Jaime swallows, keeping his composure. “I understand. I only wished to—”

“To what?” she interrupts, her voice rising slightly. “Ease your conscience? You’ve done nothing for this family but bring conflict and mistrust. My son lays in that bed, and you think your words will bring us comfort?”

Jaime doesn’t flinch, though her words land like blows. He glances past her to you, still seated by the bed, your expression blank as if you haven’t even heard him. His chest tightens further.

“I only wanted to offer my sympathies,” he says quietly. “For what it’s worth.”

“It’s worth nothing,” Catelyn says firmly, her eyes blazing. She steps closer, lowering her voice. “You are a Lannister, and I would have you far from my family’s grief. Leave this room, Ser Jaime, and don’t come back.”

Jaime hesitates for a moment, his pride and guilt warring within him. Finally, he nods, stepping back into the hallway. Before the door closes, he allows himself one last glance at you, but you don’t even look up. If anything, your stillness feels more damning than Catelyn’s fury.

He retreats to his chambers, the cold stone walls offering no solace. The memory of your grief and your mother’s anger churns in his mind, mixing with the echo of Bran’s fall. For the first time in his life, Jaime wonders if he truly is the monster people whisper about.

Tyrion finds him later, pouring himself a generous goblet of wine as he takes a seat by the fire. “You look troubled, brother,” Tyrion says, his tone light but his gaze focused. “Let me guess—our hosts aren’t quite as warm as you’d hoped?”

Jaime doesn’t respond immediately, staring into the flames. Finally, he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I went to see the boy.”

Tyrion raises an eyebrow. “A bold choice. Let me guess—Lady Stark wasn’t particularly welcoming?”

“She threw me out,” Jaime admits, a bitter edge to his voice. “And she’s right to. What business do I have there, playing the role of the concerned guest?”

“None,” Tyrion says bluntly. “But I suspect it wasn’t Lady Stark you wanted to see.”

Jaime’s jaw tightens, his silence telling Tyrion all he needs to know. The shorter man studies him for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter now.

“You’re not yourself, Jaime. Not here. Not around her.”

Jaime doesn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the fire. He knows Tyrion is right, just as he knows the truth of what he’s done will haunt him for the rest of his days. But the image of you by Bran’s bedside, broken and silent, refuses to leave his mind.

And for the first time in his life, Jaime Lannister feels truly powerless.

The day of departure dawns cold and gray, the kind of day that seems to stretch endlessly over the North. The royal procession is bustling with activity in the courtyard as servants load carriages, horses are saddled, and final preparations are made. Jaime Lannister stands near his mount, but his thoughts are elsewhere.

You are nowhere to be seen.

He tells himself he shouldn’t care. You have no reason to be here, no reason to bid farewell to those who brought tragedy to your family. But he had hoped—foolishly, selfishly—that he might catch a glimpse of you before they left. Even just a glance, a fleeting moment to reassure himself that you hadn’t vanished completely from his world. But the absence is palpable, heavy like the northern winds.

Instead, he watches as the Stark family fragments around him. Lord Eddard, ever the dutiful man, stands by King Robert, his expression as stony as the walls of his home. The young Stark girls, Sansa and Arya, hover nearby, each reflecting their own feelings about the journey ahead—Sansa’s excitement barely contained, Arya’s irritation unmistakable.

Robb Stark lingers at the edge of the courtyard, his eyes cold and watchful, flanked by the hulking presence of Grey Wind. His gaze catches Jaime’s for the briefest moment, and the hostility there is unmistakable. Robb knows nothing, but the tension between them has grown like frost on the castle walls.

Jaime turns away, his attention drawn to Jon Snow, who stands near the castle gates with Ghost at his side. The boy’s expression is unreadable, though there’s a certain heaviness to his movements. Tyrion, standing beside him, chats animatedly, his tone light despite the weight of the day.

Jaime moves toward them, if only to distract himself from the ache in his chest.

“Ah, brother,” Tyrion greets as Jaime approaches, his voice tinged with amusement. “Come to bid me farewell? Or perhaps you’re here to remind me not to fall off the Wall.”

Jaime smirks faintly, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m here to ensure you don’t disgrace the family name. Though I suppose that’s a futile effort.”

Tyrion laughs, clapping Jaime on the arm. “I’ll do my best to uphold our reputation. By which I mean, of course, drinking my weight in wine and pissing off the edge of the world.”

Jon Snow remains quiet, his eyes flicking between the brothers. Finally, he speaks, his tone low and wary. “I thought knights of the Kingsguard stayed close to the King.”

“I thought bastards didn’t speak unless spoken to,” Jaime retorts smoothly, though there’s no real venom in his words. The boy is too much like his father—stubborn, proud, and entirely too serious for his age.

Jon stiffens, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword, but Tyrion interjects before the tension can escalate.

“Come now, let’s not start a duel before we even leave Winterfell,” he says lightly, though his gaze sharpens as he looks at Jaime. “We wouldn’t want the wolves feasting on a lion before we’ve even reached the capital.”

Jaime exhales, forcing himself to step back. He glances at Jon, then at Tyrion. “Be careful on the road,” he says finally, his voice softer now. “The North doesn’t take kindly to outsiders.”

Tyrion raises an eyebrow. “Neither does the Wall, I’m told. But I appreciate your concern, brother.”

Jaime nods, though his mind is already drifting elsewhere. As the final calls for departure echo through the courtyard, he finds his gaze sweeping the castle walls one last time, hoping against hope to see you there.

He doesn’t find you, but his thoughts linger on you regardless as the procession begins its journey south. The sound of hooves and wheels fades into the distance, leaving Winterfell behind. Jaime rides near the front of the column, his armor catching the occasional glint of sunlight, but his mind is far from the road ahead.

The memory of you at Bran’s bedside is seared into his mind—the grief in your eyes, the silence that cut deeper than any words. He can’t shake the feeling that you knew, somehow, that he was responsible. That you had looked through him, seen the guilt he tried so desperately to bury.

The road stretches endlessly before him, but his thoughts remain in Winterfell, lingering in the cold halls and shadowed chambers where he left a piece of himself behind.

And in the silence, he wonders if he’ll ever truly be free of it.

[geneviveleocardius]

crying over movies

and pregnant with simon riley’s baby

the sound of your sobs cuts through the quiet of the house, sharp and raw. simon drops the knife he’s been using to chop vegetables, his heart lurching in his chest. it’s not unusual for you to cry these days—pregnancy hormones have been working overtime—but this… this is different. this is gut-wrenching, the kind of crying that makes his pulse race with worry.

he rushes into the living room, where he left you curled up on the couch watching after sun. the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks. you’re a mess, your face red and blotchy, tears streaming down your cheeks, big eyes wide and glassy as you clutch a pillow like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“love?” his voice is low, calm despite the panic clawing at his chest. he crouches in front of you, his hands reaching out to cradle your face. “what’s wrong? is it the baby? are you in pain?”

you shake your head frantically, your sobs hitching as you try to speak. “n-no, it’s not—” a deep breath, and then another sob escapes. “it’s not the baby. it’s—oh my god, simon, it’s just—”

he watches you, his brows furrowed, utterly baffled. “just what?”

“the movie!” you wail, throwing your arms up dramatically. “it was so sad, simon! and—and then i started thinking about us and the baby and—and—oh my god, you’re never gonna be a single parent, okay? i’m never leaving you!”

his eyes widen at the declaration, and he blinks, stunned. “what tha—?”

“and you have to promise me, simon,” you cut him off, your voice shaky but insistent. “if something’s ever bothering you, you’re gonna tell me, right? we’re a team, and i love you so damn much, okay? you can’t ever leave me, because i’d just—” a hiccup. “i’d die without you!”

he stares at you, his lips parted slightly, trying to process the flood of emotions pouring out of you. he’s used to your mood swings by now—the tears over burnt toast, the laughter that turned into crying because of a stupid dog video—but this? this is a whole new level.

you’re still sobbing, your breaths coming in hiccupping gasps, and his heart aches in a way he doesn’t quite understand. “love, you’re gonna hyperventilate,” he mutters, sitting beside you and pulling you into his arms. you melt into him instantly, your hands clutching at his shirt as you bury your face against his chest.

“i mean it, simon,” you mumble, your voice muffled by his shirt. “i’ll never leave you. you’re stuck with me forever.”

he lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “bloody hell, i should hope so. wouldn’t have married you otherwise, yeah?”

“and the baby,” you continue, ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood. “we’re gonna be the best parents, and—and if you ever think i’m not doing enough, you have to tell me, okay? i’ll do better. i swear.”

“sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning back so he can tilt your face up to look at him. your tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes might look like a disaster to anyone else, but to him, you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “you’re more than enough. you’re everything. and you’re not going anywhere, yeah? we’re fine. we’re better than fine.”

your lower lip trembles, and more tears spill over. “i just—i love you so damn much, simon. you can’t ever leave me. promise me.”

he exhales, a soft huff of disbelief, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?” he mutters against your skin. “but alright. i promise. i’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. happy?”

you nod, sniffling, and wrap your arms tighter around him. “so happy.”

he holds you close, his large hands rubbing slow circles on your back as your sobs gradually quiet into soft hiccups. he’s still not entirely sure how you got from a movie to this existential meltdown, but one thing’s for sure: he wouldn’t trade this chaotic, hormonal, beautiful mess for anything.

[munsonsmixtapes]

hello! if you have the time could you please write soft Eddie guiding a shy reader when they make out for the first time?

There's a knock on Eddie's door and he hurries to answer it, hoping it's who he thinks it is. He isn't expecting anyone else, but it's not uncommon for people to show up looking to buy from him, but he really hopes it's you. He's been looking forward to tonight for over a week since you suggested it. He opens the door and there you are, beautiful as ever.

He steps aside and you plant a soft kiss on his cheek as you enter the trailer. You hold out a DVD and a few of Eddie's favorite snacks and he can't help but smile at how sweet you are. You've only been on a few dates and hopes he wouldn't scare you off if he proposed. Because if he's being honest, he can't see himself with anyone else.

No one he's dated has ever been so sweet to him. All they seemed to be interested in was using him for his body and rarely anything else. He wasn't really known as Eddie "the freak" Munson (well, maybe in other ways) anymore, but it still seemed like people didn't want anything else from him besides drugs or sex.

But you? All you seem to want from him is his company, genuinely interested in all of his fun facts that he has about random subjects and you even laugh at his jokes. And they aren't pity laughs either. You're a breath of fresh air and he hopes you'll stick around forever.

"You didn't have to do all this," he tells you with a smile as he takes the stuff from you. You're staring down at the floor and he can tell you're getting shy on him again. He doesn't mind, though. He thinks it's cute.

"Of course I did," you insist. "I wanted to treat you for once," you then smile and Eddie never gets tired of seeing it.

"Well I'm not going to say no to that," he responds then takes you by the hand, threading his fingers through yours. "Now c'mon."

You follow him over to the couch and the two of you sit together, but you make sure to leave a little space to be polite. You want to be cuddled up into his side, though. You want rest your head on his chest as his hand lazily runs up and down your back.

A lot of the people you've out with all seemed to be after one thing so it warms your heart that Eddie is willing to go at your pace. He always waits for you to initiate things like hugs or kisses and waits until you pull away, never asking for more. He's nothing but a gentleman and you really like spending time with him.

Eddie spreads out all of the movies you brought, his eyebrows quirking at the variety. You seem to have an eclectic taste and he admires that. He plucks the horror movie from the selection and heads over to the VCR. As soon as his back is turned, you begin to panic. You had only brought the movie to give you excuse to get close to him because of the scary scenes, but now you're beginning to regret your decision.

Eddie turns back to you and you try to hide your fear, debating on telling him that you'd rather watch something else, but you can't yourself to form the words. So you just sit in silence as Eddie moves back over to the couch, sitting even closer to you now and your fear takes over as you throw yourself into his arms.

Eddie lets out a laugh at your eagerness but he wraps his arms around you anyway, pulling you even closer to him as he turns his head towards the screen. You instantly feel better knowing that he'll keep you safe but can't help but think about what Steve told you when he rented the movie out to you.

He told you that it was the scariest movie he'd ever seen and that he couldn't sleep for days afterwards. And you rented it anyway even though he had suggested many more options that weren't nearly as scary and would still help you get into Eddie's arms despite how silly he thought the idea was.

The movie hasn't even started and you're already burying your head into his chest, gripping his shirt in your fists as tight as possible. His hand moves up to stroke the back of your head as he murmurs something to you that you can't quite hear.

"Hey, hey," he says as grabs hold of your face, forcing you to look him in the eye. His are nothing but soft as they look at you, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, suddenly feeling silly for how scared you just were. "It's nothing."

"We don't have to watch the movie," he tells you. "If you were scared, why didn't you say something?" It's a fair question, but you stay silent, not wanting to tell him the truth.

"I-" you start to say but cut yourself off, not wanting to admit the truth nor finding the right words to use.

"You what, honey?" He asks, his hands moving up and down your back exactly the way you wanted him to. Sometimes you're convinced he's a mind reader.

"I just wanted an excuse to cuddle you," you tell him, your voice so soft he almost didn't hear you. And at that, Eddie lets out a laugh before pulling you to his chest, giving you a tight squeeze. You have to remind yourself that he's not laughing at you, but because of you.

"You could have just cuddled me," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and it is. Well, it should be, but you've always found it hard to voice what you want no matter how badly you want it.

"How about we call off the movie for now?" He asks and turns off the TV then pulls you closer to him, his hands still moving up and down your back. You look up at him as he licks his lips, now unable to think about anything but how inviting they look.

The two of you have kissed multiple times, but it's never gone any farther than little pecks here and there because you've been too afraid to do any more than that. But now you feel the need to go all the way, wondering what he tastes like, if his hair is as soft as it looks.

But you've never made out with anyone and that scares you. Even though you know for sure that Eddie would talk you through it, the whole thing still makes you feel nervous. But apparently not nervous to forget it completely because before you can stop yourself, you're looking up at Eddie, gulping before getting his attention.

"Eddie?" You ask and his head turns to you, those honey eyes boring into yours. You melt under his gaze but trying to muster up the confidence again.

"Hm?" He asks, that stupid smirk making its way upon his face, the same one that's always there when he looks at you.

"Can-" you cut yourself off for the second time tonight but Eddie just sits there, patient as ever as he waits for you to speak. He knows how hard it can get sometimes for you to speak your mind so he doesn't mind waiting for you to finish your thoughts. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Of course you can," he responds, taking your face in his hands and pecking your lips once, twice, three times before pulling away only for you to grumble in response.

"No," you shake your head. "I want a real kiss."

"Oh," he replies, wondering what made you decide on that, but wanting to oblige. He's willing to give you whatever you ask.

His hands move down to neck, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across your jaw as he leans in again, his lips slowly capturing yours as they move together slowly. He's nothing but gentle as he kisses you, showing you how it's done.

Your hands press against his chest and all you can think about how you can't believe you've gone so long without his lips attached to yours. They're nothing but soft and gentle and now you're sure that you can do this for hours.

Eddie breaks away before you're ready and you're breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. He stares down, a chuckle falling from his lips as he presses his forehead to yours.

"You're supposed breathe, baby," he tells you softly and you feel your cheeks heat.

"Can we try that again?" You ask as you pick up one of his curls, twirling it around your pointer finger, staring down at it as you speak again. "Do you think we could...make out? I promise to breathe this time."

"Oh, honey," he sighs before pressing a kiss to you lips. "I'd love to make out with you." Another and another until he's capturing your lips again, taking the lead again. You have no idea what you're doing but Eddie is being nothing but a sweetheart as he guides you through it.

He pulls away again and you whine this time at the absence of his lips, chasing him and getting in another quick kiss before you sit back, waiting for him.

"Do you want to sit in my lap?" He suggests. "I think that'll be more comfortable for you."

Eddie sits with his back against the couch and you do as he suggests and straddle his waist which feels foreign to you but he's right. It's much more comfortable. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest on the small of your back, a good spot between your waist and upper back because this is just kissing and he doesn't want to give you the impression that he's going to go any farther.

"You kiss me now," he says and your heart races in your chest as you think about fucking it all up.

"Are you sure?" You ask, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it as you contemplate.

"Positive," he nods. "You've got this. Do whatever you want, baby. This is all about you."

"Okay," you nod, leaning forward and slotting your lips just like he did, Eddie immediately responding to you but he's moving at your pace instead of leading like he previously had.

You remember to breath through your nose as your fingers thread into his hair on each side of his head. His hair is normally off limits because people get too rough with it, but with you, he doesn't care. In fact, he loves when you play with his hair, a little bit of love sprinkles into every touch of it.

"You're doing so good, honey," he murmurs against your lips. "Do you want to try sticking your tongue in my mouth?"

"Please," you whine with a yank of his hair and if you can feel his cock hardening underneath you, you don't say anything. And thank god for that.

"Do you want me to show you first?"

"Yes," you breath against his lips and he's getting even more hard, knowing that he's going to have to get himself off later because there's no way he's going to expect you to go all the way right now.

Eddie captures your lips again as his hands rest against your waist, landing on the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up. His lips are moving against you to warm you up and then he gingerly flicks his tongue against your bottom lip.

"Open up," he commands against your lips and you do as he says, opening up for him as he slides his tongue into your mouth. He swirls his tongue around yours and you mimic his actions, tugging on his hair as a moan falls from your lips at the feeling of his tongue moving with yours.

Your eyes widen and you can't help but pull away as you suddenly feel embarrassed at the sound you've just made. Eddie, though? Eddie's convinced that's the hottest thing he's ever heard and he really wants you to make it again.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," he says quickly, trying his best to assure you. "It was really hot, actually."

"It was?"

"Definitely," he nods. "Would it help if you made me moan too?" All you can do is nod and before he can say anything else, your lips are on his, only a few seconds passing before your tongue is flicking against his bottom lip. He opens up immediately and you mimic what he just showed you, your tongue swirling around his as you pulling on his hair even harder, a loud moan falling from his lips.

You haven't thought about it until now since you were so caught up in his kisses, but you're soaking wet between your legs and if you had more confidence, you'd ask Eddie to take care of you, but you don't so you don't. You don't think you're ready for that right now anyway.

You try to focus on the taste of him to get your mind off of it. He tastes like cigarettes that you know he smoked before you came over and you don't know why but you can't get enough of it. It's intoxicating.

You stay like that for a while until your lips are kiss bitten and your legs are asleep from you straddling him for too long. You both decide to call it a night and Eddie walks you to your car like the gentleman he is, kissing you one more time before you drive away. He then goes back inside and heads to his room where he collapses onto his bed, deciding that he's probably (definitely) in love with you.

[dixons-sunshine]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

(GIF by @daryl-dixon-daydreams)

Summary: Being woken up with kisses by you might have been Daryl’s favourite thing ever. Getting a gift that particular morning was unexpected, but not unappreciated. It might have been the best birthday he has ever had.

Genre: Fluff.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 817.

A/N: Wrote a little something in honour of Norman’s birthday! Happy birthday to one of the best people on this planet!

Daryl slowly opened his eyes at the feeling of soft prodding against his skin. He blinked to rid himself of the loopy, sleepy feeling, his gaze landing on the ceiling above. However, he looked down when the soft prodding persisted, and when he did, a small smile spread across his face.

You easily returned the gesture. You pressed your lips against his chest, being extra gentle whenever you were met with a scar. You slowly trailed up his collarbone, his neck, his cheek, before finally letting your lips meet his for a tender kiss.

Daryl pulled away after a few seconds, his signature half smile on his face. “Well, g’mornin’.”

You grinned and brought a hand up to cup his cheek, lightly scratching his stubble. “Good morning, handsome,” you greeted him, your eyes sparkling with excitement—something that made the archer confused.

Your partner raised his eyebrows at you, instantly reading you like the back of his hand. “Alright, spill. What’s up?”

You gave him a faux innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, completely unconvinced. “Sure. S’jus’ my imagination, huh? You wake me up with kisses, lookin’ all excited and s’for no reason at all?”

“Can’t I just be happy to be with you?”

“Sure you can, but s’more than that. I can tell.”

You finally gave up on your attempt at keeping a straight face. You laughed and removed yourself from his embrace, reaching over to grab something from your nightstand. It took a couple of tries to get the drawer open, but you finally succeeded after the third try.

Daryl watched you move in silence, his eyebrows furrowing together when you grabbed a little box that was wrapped in pink, glittery wrapping paper and placed it in his hands. “What’s this?” he questioned, fiddling with the object but making no move to open it just yet.

“If I wanted to tell you, I would have done so instead of making sure to keep it a secret,” you retorted, chuckling when he sent you a look that said ‘really?’ “Just open it, okay?”

The archer hesitated for a few seconds longer, before sighing and slowly beginning to peel the paper away. Underneath, it revealed a tiny wooden box. “A box?” he asked, looking back up at you.

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Look inside the box.”

Daryl chuckled. He opened it up, and his heart started galloping in his chest. He gingerly took the object from the box, his ocean-coloured eyes widening in awe. “I—what? Why?”

You smiled at him reaction. “Because I wanted to. I had to pull some strings with people to let me take their places on runs, but I got something for you. I hope you like it.”

In his palm, there laid a chain necklace with a little silver arrow hanging from it. It may have been something simple in the eyes of others, but to Daryl, it was absolutely perfect. It was beautiful, and he was going to wear it with pride because his woman got it for him.

“Thanks. S’amazin’,” he whispered, letting the chain hang from his fingers. “But seriously. Why? What’s the occasion?”

“You really don’t know what today is?” When Daryl shook his head, you leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to the tip of his nose. “It’s your birthday, Dar. Happy birthday.”

Realization dawned on him. Ever since coming to Alexandria, where the people had somehow managed to keep track of the dates, you had insisted on keeping an out-of-date calendar in your shared room. You might not have known whether it was Friday or Tuesday, but you knew what the date was. And that day, it was his birthday.

“Shit. That’s today?” he asked, continuing when you nodded. “You didn’t have to do nothin’ for me. I would’a been happy with a simple “happy birthday”. You didn’t have to go through all’a that trouble to find me a gift.”

“It wasn’t any trouble.” You cut Daryl off before he could protest. “It wasn’t. It’s your birthday, and I wanted to get you something for it. That’s not any trouble for me. It’s a way for me to show you how much I love you, okay?”

Daryl’s heart leaped in his chest. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wished he could say to express his gratitude. However, words fell short in that moment. All he could manage was a simple “thanks.”

You smiled softly and nodded. “Of course.” Despite the simplicity of that answer to your heartfelt confession, you knew how grateful he was. You could see it in the way his eyes lit up, in the way his hand found your’s and squeezed it three times, and in the way he looked at you. You didn’t need any words to know how much he loved you.

Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words.

[moonlightdreamzz]

goodnight n go — yang jungwon.

🎧 ➤ goodnight n go by ariana grande

GENRE. FLUFF. down bad for eachother but can’t say it out loud. only with actions.

SUMMARY. you tell Jungwon you’ve always wondered what it’s like to do couple things during the holidays—and without hesitation, he makes it happen.

AUTHORS NOTE. this absolutely warmed my cold heart. This man evokes things out of me I wasn’t aware was still there. I’ll add a keep reading later.

“jungwon, i’m not playing with you!” you squeal loudly, nearly tripping over your own feet as you chase him around the couch. he’s laughing so hard it’s a miracle he hasn’t dropped your phone yet. “damnit, jungwon!”

“you must have been—” he dodges left, then right, “looking at something—” he darts into the kitchen, “real embarrassing to be chasing me like this!”

he finally stops near the counter, grinning from ear to ear and completely unfazed by the fact that you’re out of breath and glaring daggers at him. “i wonder what it could be.” he questions in dramatic fashion, his finger poking his chin repeatedly as he looks into nothingness.

“jungwon,” you warn, hands on your hips, but it’s too late. his eyes land on the screen, and a mix of confusion and amusement washes over his face.

“gingerbread houses?” he says, reading the search history aloud. “how much does a gingerbread house cost?”

you freeze, your face instantly heating up. “give that back!”

he ignores you, his expression shifting into something so genuinely curious it’s almost infuriating. “why were you looking this up? are you suddenly into architecture? or… are you planning to eat an entire gingerbread house by yourself?”

you snatch the phone from his hand, groaning as you clutch it to your chest. “no, it’s not like that.”

“then what’s it like?” he asks, leaning casually against the counter. you so badly want to be upset with him, but his dimpled smile beaming in your face is making it impossible.

you let out a sigh, deciding it’s better to just explain than deal with his endless teasing. “it’s something couples do during christmas,” you mumble.

his brow furrows slightly, and he tilts his head. “couples?”

“yeah,” you say, shifting awkwardly under his gaze. “you know, building gingerbread houses together, wearing matching pajamas, taking cringy pictures… that kind of stuff.”

he’s staring at you now, his amusement fading into something softer, something more thoughtful. “and you wanted to do that?”

“i mean…” you shrug, trying to play it off. “i thought about it. but since i don’t exactly have the other half of the couple, i figured maybe i’d just do it by myself. pajamas and all.”

jungwon doesn’t respond right away. he’s just looking at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach flip.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know what you and jungwon truly have going on. but it’s not for lack of clarity—it’s for lack of courage. because deep down, you both know. you know it in the way his eyes linger on you a little too long, in the way he remembers every offhanded comment you make, in the way your heart races whenever he smiles at you like you’re the only person in the room.

you weren’t entirely sure at first. jungwon’s the kind of guy who’s sweet to everyone, with a charm that feels effortless. it was easy to convince yourself that the way he treated you was just…him being him. until one day, you casually mentioned hanging out with another guy—a friend from work who’d been pestering you about grabbing coffee. you hadn’t thought much of it, but jungwon froze mid-bite of his ramen, chopsticks hovering in the air like the universe had suddenly paused.

“who?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual, but the furrow in his brows betrayed him.

you laughed, not understanding why he looked so confused. “just a friend,” you said, shrugging it off.

“a friend?” he repeated, his voice pitching slightly higher. he placed his chopsticks down, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “what kind of friend?”

you blinked at him, unsure why he was grilling you like this. “the normal kind? what other kind is there?”

he narrowed his eyes. “the kind that wants something more.”

your stomach flipped at the implication, but you played it cool. “what does it matter to you?”

jungwon’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. but then he just sighed, shaking his head. “it doesn’t,” he muttered, picking up his chopsticks again.

except it did. you could see it in the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes for the rest of the meal, the way he suddenly got quieter. it was like he couldn’t bring himself to say it, but the weight of what he felt was written all over his face.

and that’s when you knew.

but knowing and saying it out loud are two very different things.

so you kept hanging out, like you always did. no labels, no confessions—just spending time together, letting the unspoken feelings linger in the air between you. and maybe that’s why it works. because neither of you feels the need to rush. you’re slowly falling for each other, piece by piece, day by day.

“what?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“nothing,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shakes his head. “you’re just… funny.”

you frown. “funny how?”

“i don’t know,” he says, pushing off the counter and walking past you to the living room. “you just are.”

you follow him, phone still clutched in your hand, watching as he flops onto the couch like he didn’t just say something cryptic.

“so, what do you want to eat?” he asks, grabbing the remote and flipping through channels like the conversation you just had didn’t happen.

your brows knit together. “that’s it? you’re not gonna say anything else about the gingerbread houses?”

he glances at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “what else is there to say? if you want to build a gingerbread house, build one. who cares if it’s cringey?”

all you can do is flip him off before plopping down beside him.

a lazy grin rests on his face. “so, food? yes? no?”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that creeps onto yours. “yes. but we’re getting my favorite after the distress you just put me though, twin.”

a couple of days pass, and life goes on in its usual rhythm. jungwon texts you here and there, nothing out of the ordinary. it’s a mix of random memes, updates on whatever he’s doing, and the occasional “you up?” when he’s bored at night. but tonight, his message feels different.

jungwon: what are you doing tonight?

your heart skips a beat, even though you’re not entirely sure why. it’s not like it’s weird for him to ask. still, the question makes your stomach do this weird, excited flip.

you: nothing really. why?

his reply comes almost immediately.

jungwon: i’m coming over. be ready in an hour.

you: should I be afraid?????

he doesn’t answer. instead, you’re left staring at your phone, trying to figure out what he’s up to.

an hour later, there’s a knock at your door, and when you open it, jungwon is standing there with a ridiculously large bag in one hand and a takeout bag in the other. he’s grinning, that dimpled smile lighting up his face, and you feel your heart do that thing again.

“what’s all this?” you ask, stepping aside to let him in.

“you’ll see,” he says, kicking off his shoes and heading straight to your living room like he owns the place.

you follow him, watching as he sets everything down on the coffee table. first, he pulls out two gingerbread house kits, complete with icing, candy, and all the little decorations. then, he pulls out a set of matching pajamas—red and white with little snowflakes printed all over them.

“jungwon…” you say, your voice trailing off as you take it all in.

“and your favorite,” he adds, holding up the takeout bag with a triumphant smile.

you blink at him, completely caught off guard. “what… what is all this?”

he shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the way he avoids your eyes. “you said you wanted to do all that cringey couple stuff for christmas, right? so… let’s do it.”

your chest tightens, a mix of disbelief and something softer, warmer. “you actually remembered that?”

“of course, i remembered,” he says, finally looking at you. “i remember everything you say.”

for a moment, you don’t know what to say. it’s such a small gesture, but it feels like so much more. like he’s showing you, in his own quiet way, how much he cares.

“you’re so weird,” you say, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“says the girl who was going to eat a whole gingerbread house by herself…” he trails, his face making an expression that says sureeeee. he sits down on the floor and pats the spot next to him.

“kiss it.” you mutter, rolling your eyes playfully.

“kiss what?” his eyes widen.

“my ass.” you slap your behind for dramatic effect—the sound echoing off your walls. did it hurt? yes. would you let him see that? no. jungwon’s eyes widen, and for the first time, he’s the one that’s frozen and unable to form a sentence. it’s only for a mere second though before he realizes his usually cool demeanor vanished. he shakes his head, as if he’s trying to remove the effect of your words and rubs the tips of his ears that are tinted pink.

anyone else wouldn’t have caught it. but it was you, so you did.

the jungwon, that jungwon wants everyone else to see, starts unpacking the gingerbread kits. you can’t help but steal a glance at him. there’s something about the way he’s so nonchalant about all of this, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to show up at your place with matching pajamas and your favorite food.

“so,” he says, breaking the silence. “are you ready to lose? because my gingerbread house is going to be way better than yours.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “we’ll see about that.”

jungwon carefully tears open the packet of icing, his brows furrowing in concentration. “you have to massage the icing bag first, you know. to warm it up,” he says, squeezing it between his hands like a professional baker.

you raise an eyebrow. “oh, so you’re a gingerbread house expert now?”

he looks up at you with mock seriousness. “obviously. you’re looking at the reigning champion of the 6th grade holiday fair. i crushed the competition.

“wow, i’m so intimidated,” you deadpan, ripping open your own icing packet with way less finesse than him.

he leans over slightly, just close enough for you to catch a whiff of his cologne—subtle, clean, and entirely too distracting. “you should be,” he murmurs, a teasing lilt in his voice.

you roll your eyes, but there’s a warmth spreading in your chest. this is how it always is with jungwon—light, playful, easy. but underneath all the teasing, there’s something softer.

“okay, watch and learn,” he announces, picking up one of the gingerbread walls and carefully piping a line of icing along the edge. “this is how you lay a solid foundation.”

“foundation?” you scoff. “it’s a gingerbread house, not a skyscraper.”

“and that’s why you’re going to lose,” he replies smugly, pressing the pieces together with meticulous precision.

you pretend to be unimpressed, but you’re secretly charmed by how seriously he’s taking this. as you attempt to glue your own walls together, one of them immediately collapses, the icing smearing all over your hands.

“oh, no,” you groan, holding up your sticky fingers.

jungwon looks over and snickers. “what happened to ‘it’s just a gingerbread house’?”

“shut up and help me,” you grumble, trying to balance the pieces with one hand while reaching for the icing with the other.

he scoots closer, his knee brushing against yours as he steadies the walls for you. “you have to hold it like this,” he says, his voice low as his hands gently guide yours.

the proximity makes your heart stutter, but you do your best to play it cool. “you’re just trying to sabotage me so yours looks better,” you accuse, glancing up at him.

his eyes meet yours, and for a second, neither of you says anything. there’s a flicker of something unspoken in his gaze, something that makes your breath catch.

“maybe,” he says softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

you clear your throat, breaking the moment. “well, it’s working. i can’t focus with you this close.”

“then i guess i’ll stay right here,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes lingering on you a little too long.

you huff, turning your attention back to your gingerbread house. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here i am,” he quips, settling back into his spot but staying close enough that your shoulders still brush occasionally.

as the night goes on, the competition turns into chaos. jungwon gets icing on his nose at some point, and you laugh so hard you accidentally knock over one of his walls. he retaliates by flicking a piece of candy at you, which starts an all-out candy war.

“truce!” you finally gasp, holding up your hands in surrender.

“only if you admit my house is better,” he says, his dimples on full display.

you roll your eyes but lean in closer, inspecting his work. “it’s not bad,” you admit, reaching out to straighten one of the candy canes on the roof.

your hand lingers a moment too long, and you realize just how close you are to him. he’s watching you, his expression soft, like he’s seeing something he can’t quite put into words.

“what?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

“nothing,” he says, but the way he looks at you says everything.

the moment stretches, filled with a warmth that feels almost tangible. and though neither of you says it out loud, it’s there in the way he gently nudges your shoulder, in the way you lean into him without even thinking.

“so,” you say, breaking the silence with a grin. “are you going to admit that i won?”

“pictures or it didn’t happen,” jungwon declares, pulling out his phone and snapping a dramatic photo of his gingerbread house. “look at this masterpiece. the symmetry, the structure—pure genius. i think i could sell this design.”

you lean over, squinting at the screen. “symmetry? jungwon, one of your candy canes is literally sliding off the roof. are you going for a modern look or just chaos?”

he gasps, clutching his chest like you’ve just mortally wounded him. “chaos? this is art, y/n. you just don’t get it.”

“right,” you drawl, crossing your arms but fighting back a smile. “you keep telling yourself that.”

jungwon shakes his head, clearly unimpressed with your critique. “okay, then let’s get the artist and the critic in one shot. come on.”

“what? no.” you lean back, shaking your head as he switches his phone to selfie mode.

“yes,” he insists, already angling the phone to get both of you and your gingerbread houses in frame. “this is for the archives. future generations need to know who built these masterpieces.”

“future generations are going to laugh at yours,” you shoot back, but you lean in anyway.

jungwon tilts the phone slightly, and you realize how close you are when your cheek almost brushes his. your laughter dies down, replaced by a warmth that makes your stomach flutter.

“okay, smile,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost like he’s talking to himself.

you glance at him instead of the camera, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s feeling the same thing you are.

then he snaps the picture and grins, pulling you out of your thoughts. “perfect,” he says, showing you the photo.

it’s cute. annoyingly cute. and the way his arm is casually slung around your shoulders doesn’t help the situation.

“all right, we’re done,” you announce, trying to shake off the tension.

jungwon raises an eyebrow. “done? we’re just getting started.” he uploads the picture to his finsta without hesitation, captioning it: couples who build together stay together.

your jaw drops, and you swat at him. “jungwon, what the hell?!”

he laughs, easily dodging you. “relax, y/n. it’s just my finsta. nobody cares.”

“oh, nobody cares? what about the word couples, huh?!” your voice pitches slightly, your face warming.

“what about it?” he counters, his expression too calm for your liking.

you pause, trying to think of a response, but the weight of the moment settles between you again.

“i—whatever,” you mutter, turning your attention back to the gingerbread kits to avoid looking at him.

jungwon watches you for a moment before grabbing his phone again. “okay, now let’s do this properly,” he says, standing up and heading toward the makeshift tripod he set up.

“do what properly?”

“matching pajamas, full couple vibes,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you wanted the experience, right?”

you huff but head to your room to change. when you come back, jungwon is already posing dramatically, pretending to lean on his gingerbread house like it’s a prize-winning sculpture.

“wow, someone’s really feeling himself,” you tease, but you can’t help smiling.

he flashes you his dimpled grin. “well, someone has to make this night memorable. now, get over here.”

you join him, and as the camera clicks away, you feel yourself relaxing again.

“these pictures better not end up anywhere else,” you warn as he scrolls through the shots.

jungwon just hums, clearly not listening, before setting his phone down. “hey,” he says suddenly, his voice softer now.

“what?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“thanks for letting me crash your night,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “i know this was kind of random.”

“are you kidding?” you laugh lightly. “you showed up with food, matching pajamas, and gingerbread houses. i should be thanking you.”

he meets your eyes then, and for a moment, it feels like the air is too thick to breathe. the playful banter fades, leaving only the unspoken tension that’s been building for weeks.

you open your mouth to say something, anything, but jungwon beats you to it.

“do you want to watch a movie or something?” he asks, his voice casual, like he’s trying to defuse the moment.

you nod, swallowing hard. “yeah. a movie sounds good.”

jungwon settles onto the couch first, stretching out like like a baby . “come here,” he says, opening his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

your breath catches. you’ve sat close to him before—legs over his lap, arms brushing, sharing blankets during movie nights. but this? this is new.

“you sure?” you ask, your voice quieter than you mean it to be.

he gives you a look, half amused, half serious. “i wouldn’t have asked if i wasn’t.”

with a small nod, you sit beside him, easing into his arms like you’ve been doing this your whole life. his chest is warm and steady beneath your cheek, and you can feel his heartbeat—a calm, unhurried rhythm that contrasts the storm swirling in your own.

you don’t realize how tired you’ve been until you let yourself relax against him. maybe it’s the rush of the evening catching up to you, or maybe it’s just jungwon. he has this way of making you feel safe, like nothing else in the world matters when you’re with him.

his fingers trace absent patterns along your arm, sending a quiet hum of comfort through your body. you yawn, trying to hide it, but jungwon chuckles softly.

“sleepy already?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

“shut up,” you mumble into his hoodie, your words muffled but not entirely untrue.

he doesn’t respond, just pulls you closer, his chin resting lightly on top of your head.

the world narrows to this—his warmth, his scent, the way his chest rises and falls beneath you. you don’t even notice when your eyes flutter shut, the exhaustion winning over.

a moment passes, or maybe more. you’re not sure how long you’ve been drifting when you feel it—a gentle, almost hesitant pressure against your forehead.

you stir slightly, but you don’t open your eyes.

then, the kiss comes again. firmer this time, confident. jungwon’s lips linger just long enough to make your heart skip.

your eyes flutter open, and the world feels softer somehow, like everything has shifted in the quietest, most significant way. jungwon’s face is close, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling.

you don’t know who moves first. maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you. but the space between you disappears, and suddenly, his lips are on yours.

it’s soft at first, like he’s testing the waters, but when you kiss him back, the hesitance melts away. the kiss deepens, slow and sweet, carrying the weight of every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment that’s led to this.

when you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his, both of you breathing a little harder, a little shakier.

“so,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “does this mean i won the gingerbread competition?”

jungwon chuckles softly, his fingers brushing against yours. “yeah,” he says, his voice warm and steady. “but i think i won something better.”

your heart stutters, his words washing over you like a confession wrapped in simplicity. you meet his gaze, and the way he’s looking at you—soft, steady, and so sure—makes it hard to breathe.

you don’t reply, because what could you possibly say? instead, you lean in, closing the space between you, your lips finding his again. it’s unhurried, sweet, and everything you’ve been too afraid to admit until now.

[sanjisleggy]

let your husband help you (shanks x reader)

eq: HELLO HELLO, GOD I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD YOUR REQUESTS OPEN, I LOVE YOUR WRITING OF SHANKS, I LOVE WHEN THEY PUT READER AS SHANKS' WIFE AHHH‼️‼️‼️‼️ something about shanks, with a fem!reader (if possible) that has wings and sometimes the wings with feathers require molting and there are areas that cannot be reached closer to the back and requires help to remove the loose feathers

a/n: (i am playing valorant as i write this help) ty for the request anon! :D the enthusiasm is very endearing ;;0;; hope you enjoy reading! also man i love writing for Shanks :3c

contents: a bit of angst (fem!reader is having a hard time), descriptions of itchiness and pain, comfort, fluff :D, a tad bit suggestive bc it’s Shanks

wc. 1.2k

wanna be on my taglist?

i.

these past few weeks have been torture. today especially so.

alone in your bedroom aboard the Red Force you writhe in itchiness and pain as your back aches in a way it hasn’t in a long time. lying face-down on your bed, you feel your wings twitch and tremble as you contort your arms to reach behind you as far as humanly possible; only to groan in defeat when the most you can do is brush the offending feathers with your fingertips.

for days now a small part of your brain has been nagging at you to go get Shanks for the sake of your poor back and wings but you’ve heard from your crewmates how busy he’s been so you’ve pushed the urge aside. now, though, the idea has forced its way to the forefront of your mind out of desperation, no doubt.

holding back a sob of frustration that threatens to make its way out of your throat, you nuzzle your face into your husband’s pillow, hoping that his scent can serve as a distraction of some kind. more than anything though, it simply acts as a poor placeholder for the real thing and only makes your aching heart (and wings) yearn for him even more.

“c’mon, (Y/N), don’t be shy,” his gentle voice called from outside the utility closet in which you’d chosen to hide–away from him. you felt your face heat up at Shanks’ persistence to help with something he wasn’t even totally aware of; he just knew you were in pain so he had to help.

“it’s okay, i can deal with it myself,” you lied, wincing when one of your wings brushed against a shelf behind you. most of the molting feathers had already been dealt with but your wings had grown a lot since the last time you molted and now they were far too big for your hands to reach. “just leave me alone.”

“if you don’t tell me what’s up, i’ll tell Rayleigh.”

“no!” you protested instantly. as much as you trusted the first mate of your crew with your life, this was far too embarrassing to get him involved. “if you tell anyone i’ll leave the crew, you asshole.”

you had meant it only as a false threat but the sudden silence told you Shanks took it a bit more seriously than you thought he would.

“okay, fine,” he replied and you could hear the pout on his face. “i just wanna help. there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. you know you can trust me to take care of you.”

a particularly sharp pain shoots through your spine from your right wing and the whine of discomfort slips past your lips before you can help yourself. too far gone to care about anyone hearing from outside your quarters, you let yourself sob aloud, the relief from crying doing little to ease your discomfort. 

the immense helplessness of your situation makes you realise how pampered you’ve been all these years. how lucky you are to have had such a loving friend-turned-lover who always took it upon himself to care for you. now here you are: alone in your bedroom, struggling with a task that you long should’ve learned how to deal with yourself.

you nearly give in to the urge to seek out the one person you trust to alleviate your pain but at this point, you’re too tired to even get off the bed. maybe it’s for the best, you wonder to yourself. your eyes flutter closed as you pull Shanks’ pillow a bit closer and bury your face deeper into it as you allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by your exhaustion, hoping that at least you can sleep away the next few hours of aches and itching.

ii.

letting out a sigh of relief, the one-armed Emperor takes his time returning to his ship after a grueling few weeks of settling disputes between several smaller pirate crews. normally such tasks would never take this long–hell, most of the time he didn’t even have to step in–but civilians’ lives were at stake so he had no choice.

now, as Shanks nears the dock and sees the Red Force coming into view, all he can think about is taking a nap with you. not only have his duties kept him away from you all day every day, he’d also been going to bed at ungodly hours, crawling under the sheets beside you long after you’ve fallen asleep. though he can’t wait to spend some quality time with you, he wants nothing more than to rest by your side with the knowledge that he’ll finally be able to wake up after you for once.

“hey Captain,” Benn calls out from aboard the deck once Shanks reaches speaking-distance. “i think (Y/N) needs your help.”

“see, what’d i say?” you could practically hear him smiling as he sat behind you, tenderly plucking out the final few loose feathers. “there’s no need to be shy around me.” Shanks tugged at a particularly stubborn feather and when it finally came loose, you couldn’t help the moan of relief that came out of your mouth.

you felt your cheeks rapidly heat up in shame as you buried your face in your hands, fully prepared for the boy to make fun of you. but it never came. instead, Shanks stayed quiet as he soothed the particular spot of skin with his fingers in a manner so tender you couldn’t believe it was him.

“there, all done,” he said. you were grateful but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and face him even though you knew you had to in order to thank him properly. 

as though sensing your dilemma, Shanks leaned forward to press his lips against your shoulder blade, right above where your wings sprouted from your back. it sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps appeared all over but you didn’t tell him to stop, if anything, you wanted him to continue.

you’re ripped out abruptly from your dream when the door of your quarters slams shut. from your face-down position in bed, you’re unable to see who it is but only one person in this world would be brave enough to make such an entrance.

“welcome back,” you groan, using your arms to push the upper half of your body off the mattress as you turn your head to glance over your shoulder.

“why didn’t you call for me?” your husband responds, tossing his cape onto the floor before rushing over to guide you back down into a resting position. Shanks pulls over two other more pillows and places them in a way he knows, from years of experience, makes you the most comfortable. “how long have your wings been molting?” 

there’s a slight hint of frustration in his voice but you know it’s not directed at you. it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty, though.

“it started… two weeks ago…” you mumble into Shanks’ pillow.

“you–” he cuts himself off with a deep sigh before he says anything impulsive. the Emperor understands you just didn’t want to disrupt his work and he appreciates the sentiment greatly, he’d just hoped that after all these years of marriage, you’d know how he’d do quite literally anything for you. this, he decides as his eyes scan your twitching wings and tangled feathers, is a conversation for another day though.

“poor thing,” Shanks coos instead, leaning down to press kisses all over the back of your neck and around your shoulder blades as he runs his hand down your side. you can feel his lips smile against your skin when your body shivers in response. “you must’ve been in so much pain, hmm? let your husband help you out.” 

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui

[seasprincess]

meanbf!rafe x sweet!reader

mdni

warnings: Smut, degrading, use of the word ‘slut’, denial, oral(m receiving)

A plus of Rafe Cameron being so rich means he owns more than one house.

So here you are sat in his pool house on his couch, Rafe’s arm draped around your shoulder. Watching some bullshit football on the tv. Rafes decision of course. You’d prefer to be watching something else. Anything else.

But you’ll sit here and watch it cause he promised to watch one of your ‘sappy pussy bitch boy’ movies. His words exact.

But you never said you’d watch it quietly.

“I don’t get it. That’s a foul right?”

Rafe sighs before taking another swig of his beer. God you do not shut up, and all the things you’re saying are just pissing him off more and more. The wrong terminology pilled onto completely wrong statements. He’s nearly at snapping point.

“Wait isn’t he going the wrong way? Rafe? I thought he was supposed to be on the other team no? I’m so lost Rafe I d-“

Before you can finish your sentence Rafe’s hand covers your mouth shutting you up. He leans close to your ear, you can feel his breath on the side of your face.

“If you don’t shut up I will make you. Do you understand?”

Rafe’s harsh tone sends a jolt of fear through you, he’s angry a lot so this isn’t the first time. But as scary as it is. It’s also attractive as fuck. So you decide to test him as you rub your thighs together.

You nod as he pulls his hand away.

Rafe sighs again before sipping more of his beer. Thankful to just watch the game in peace.

Which is short lived before you speak again. Of course you speak again.

“But what i-“

Rafe rolls his eyes as he looks at you. Seeing a little smile on your face, you know what you’re doing. He knows you know what you’re doing.

“You’re such a slut hmm?” Rafe says as his fingers start to fiddle with his belt, undoing it before he working on his jeans.

You let out a little whine at his words as you look at him.

“Sorry, forgot you liked to be called a slut.” He says with almost a sneer. He acts all high and mighty but deep down he is loving this. He loves when you’re like this. He loves you.

Rafe’s jeans and pants are now pulled down. His hard cock on full display as it hits his abs.

“But you’re pissing me off while I’m trying to watch my game. So you’re going to suck my dick like a good girl. Right?”

“Yes Rafe.” You instantly reply as you look at him. Rafe looks at you before his hand comes to the back of your head and guides it down to where he needs you.

And of course you open your mouth, wrap your lips around him and start bobbing. Being the good girl Rafe wanted you to be.

“Fuckkkkk. Such a good girl for me. Taking that cock so well.” His hand pushes you down further as he bucks his hips up slightly causing you to gag in his length.

You whine and moan around him as you move your hips. Trying to get any form of friction against the sofa.

Which of course Rafe notices.

“God you are a slut.” He says before smiling and slipping his hand into your panties. Fingers rubbing your clit softly as he groans. “I’m gonna cum in that pretty throat of yours and you’re going to swallow all of it.”

Rafe’s words mixed with his fingers rubbing your clit make you a whimpering mess. Falling apart so easily and all for Rafe.

And soon enough Rafe releases in your mouth and like he said you swallow. Sitting back up as his fingers keeping rubbing, and rubbing.

Until they stop.

You whine as you look at him.

“Shouldn’t have been so fuckin annoying and made me miss my game.” Rafe says nonchalantly as he goes back to his beer and the stupid fucking football.

[earlgreylatte]

hi can you make some headcanons about yandere green lanterns sharing a darling? (maybe some nsfw?) love your work!

Sharing is Caring

(Yandere Green Lanterns x Blue Lantern Reader) What would you even be without them?

When you became a Blue Lantern, you were whisked away to Odym, where you were fully initiated into the corps and entrusted with the the ring of hope. You’re not fully sure why you were chosen, but the opportunity was too good not to seize, especially seeing how beautiful Odym was. Maybe you were a bit self serving for a Blue Lantern, but the promise of adventure and sights unknown to the rest of humanity were more than enough to motivate you.

Of course, you quickly came to realize the cons that came with the job after you were ambushed by actual intergalactic mercenaries and were only able to use your ring to act defensively, until Hal Jordan shows up to rescue you. You’d never forget that moment for many reasons. It was the first time you truly thought you would die. It was also the first time you felt so assured and powerful at the Green Lantern’s appearance. With him around, you were truly strong.

And it looked like neither of you were in a rush to leave each other’s company. Hal was charming, offering to show a fellow Earthling the do’s and don’ts of space travel, regaling you with tales of his journey thus far, pulling more than a few laughs out of you. And you felt safe near him, at peace, even. Maybe you were a bit clingy due to the uncertainty of your surroundings, but Hal certainly didn’t mind, keeping a grip on your hand, to keep you steady as you two fly. Or at least that’s the reason he cited.

Hal was more than willing to let you tag along, showing you his favourite planets to visit, and praising you for your help with his own duties. You felt useful next to him. You liked when he would shoot you an easy grin, ruffling your hair after a job done well.

You meet Kyle soon after, running into him at some pub Hal liked to frequent. He seemed entranced with the mere sight of you until Hal pushes down on his head.

Kyle is nice, if not a bit quiet at first, staring at you with an intensity that had you pressing yourself against Hal in an attempt to hide. Hal laughs it off, saying Kyle is an artist.

You wonder if all artists seem so…sad. Maybe it was a result of your ring, but you could sense a certain grief in him.

So it feels right when you cradle his face in your hands, as carefully as you can, hoping your ring is able to emit the comfort you want to give him. Something that soothes the loneliness that’s so apparent.

When Hal is called back to Oa, Kyle insists he can watch over you and continue your adventure. Hal begrudgingly agrees, pulling you into an embrace as he gently kisses the skin under your eye, promising to be back before you know it.

While Hal always kept an arm slung over you or locked hands with you, Kyle seemed more hesitant, simply hovering over you, eyeing anyone that even steps in your vicinity, only touching you to steer you in a certain direction.

It isn’t until you settle in a shared room provided by the kingdom of a planet where you both worked as diplomats that he grows more confident and open in his affection. Wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling your body towards his, he teases you, asking if Hal ever got to share a bed with you, if anyone’s been this close to you before.

You meet Guy at his bar, Warriors, on Oa, being shown around by Hal and Kyle, both men pressing themselves against either side of your body as you enter. Guy almost instantly flirts with you in his usual self assured manner, softening at your wide eyed look. He compares you to Bambi, with your doe eyed look and hesitant steps. When Hal lightly jabs at him for already having a soft spot for you, he only confirms it, sending you a wink. He promises he’ll come up with a menu item named after you.

Although despite his quick fondness for you, he is after all Guy Gardner, always stepping into your space without care, manhandling you with a cocky grin, and more than willing to cuss out anyone that looks at you too long.

You meet John and Jessica soon after, both pitying you for having to be stuck with their more abrasive members. John takes it upon himself to check on you, making sure you’re not too overwhelmed while Jessica finds herself quickly growing attached, pressing you against her side and asking all kinds of questions about your interests, your childhood, your life on Earth, and so on.

All of them become much more protective when you and Saint Walker become the only ones that escape the destruction of the corps, with the latter giving up his ring. Kyle, who rescued you, takes you to discuss with the other Green Lanterns on whether you should keep the ring or not, before deciding the best place for you would be by their sides. And that anyone that came after you would most definitely regret it.

You’re never alone after that, a Lantern always pressed against you, whether you’re on Earth or not. Anyone that even approaches you is interrogated, and any threat is quickly taken care of.

You find your duties becoming less of you devoting yourself to the universe’s welfare and acting more as a personal cuddle buddy, always wrapped in the arms of one of them, as you sit perched on their laps.

If you try to bring this to their attention, they’ll only smile at you, patiently explaining that you’re utterly helpless without them and there are so many beings out there that would harm you in horrible ways just to get to them. Before you know it, Hal has you tucked in his bed, saying he’ll be back after he takes care of something. You’re quite literally warming his sheets.

Eventually, they grow bolder, locking lips with you at any chance, letting their hands run down your body, pinching and prodding, as they kissed and nipped at your neck.

They like taking care of you, so it’s pretty common to find yourself in Hal’s lap as Kyle presses his mouth against your sex, licking and sucking until you’re near tears.

Or for Guy to have you on your knees as he coos at how cute you are, looking up at him as you choke at his size.

And John bending you over when you ask to train, insisting you need to build up your endurance to keep up with them.

And you find yourself okay with this. Helping them in any way you can, whether it’s giving their rings a boost or letting them enjoy your warmth. You’re undeniably doing good, even when it’s just you letting them rut into you as they groan and praise you for being so good, their little Blue Lantern to love and dote on.

Blue Lantern Reader having to be bottom of the group to maintain peace LMAOO

Uhh rip to the other lanterns I did not include, my bad…

Let me give anon a kiss on the forehead for this request, you did good💙

Masterlist

[skele-bunny]

Just.......

I'm thinking about emotional support assigned ghouls again but specifically Dewdrop and Mountain and their relationship in the beginning.

Mountain came out kicking. Literally. Pissed off, teeth showing, not able to stand straight from how dizzy he was from the summoning portal. Immediately perceiving everyone in the room as a threat, all until that little fish stepped forwards. One that smelled of his home and similarly of his adoptive packs, their hands clasped together at their chest before slowly reaching forwards to take his hand.

Watching as he goes to his knees, big hands grabbing their hips, anger turning to confusion and curiosity as he tries to think if he's ever seen this freshwater before. Doesn't ring a bell but... They remind him of home. Bringing them closer, leaning over their head to lowly growl at the others who are watching.

"Shh... You're safe here." The water moving a little back and cupping a furry face. "Nothing will hurt you here. Or me. You understand, don't you?" In their shared tongue.

Dewdrop. His fish's name was Dewdrop.

Sitting in a much too small tub, fur and suds covering Mountain's line of sight but he's compliant and quiet as he feels Dewdrop scrubbing at him, softly singing to keep him calm and reassure. Eventually Mountain pulls him in and returns the favor, smiling as Dew starts purring and leans against wet fur to look up at him.

Mountain braiding Dew's hair, tail wagging as he gets to share something so intimate with him.

"—And this one is called a burger!" Dew's smiling so wide as he shows off what he got from the cafeteria for Mountain. "I didn't really know what your appetite is, or what you like, so I got one of everything. Is it okay?"

Mountain tilting his head, sniffing at each one before he looks at Dew and points at him. "Food."

"H-Huh?"

"Your food."

See, Dewdrop heard it as "you're food", face getting red and stiffening. Mountain just even more confused bc ??? "Fish? No?"

"Wait- Oh- OH!" Dew busting into laughter at his own mistake. "You're pescatarian? A water ghoul diet?"

"Yes."

"See, that makes SO much more sense." Dew taking the tray and leaving. "I'll be right back- with the right stuff this time!"

Mountain huffing as he's alone again, antsy once more as he wants to follow but he's still in a quarantine. Eventually Dew comes back and they end up sharing an overflowing tray of fish and sushi together.

"It's wasabi... It's hot..."

Bro starts coughing almost INSTANTLY and Dew's patting his back as much as he can wjkekd.

They're showering together, Mountain looking down and rumbling a bit as he gently scratches Dew's scalp. Looks up at him and smiles, tail ruffling and leaning back, hand touching his upper thigh. It was just a normal bodily response as Mountain got hard, fingers lightly trailing to Dew's jaw and admiring. Letting out a confused whine as Dew turned and got to his knees, a bit of nervousness over his body language and expression.

"I, uhm... I haven't had sex with an earth ghoul in a really long time. You have to go gentle with me, okay?"

Dew gets closer only to squeak as Mountain crouches down, frowning and poking Dew's forehead. "No. We're not having sex and you don't have to do that. I apologize. I'm not aroused. You just brushed on a sensitive spot."

He can see the little glint of a realized pain in Dew's eyes before nodding slowly. He's picked up and held tight in a hug. Mountain truly doesn't know the extent of how much that meant to Dewdrop, even after so many years.

Dewdrop holding his hand as he gives the tour of the ministry, being patient and answering any and all questions Mountain has; feeling a bit of pity as Mountain has to keep ducking to enter a majority of the common spaces.

"Sorry, I don't think they were prepared to have such a tall ghoul..."

"These humans are short, as are some of our fellows. I don't expect them to have to accommodate a single person over majority."

"Well, everyone deserves to be comfortable here. Just because a lot of people are smaller than you, doesn't mean you should have to be uncomfortable and bend over constantly just to get through a door."

Dew thinking a bit more. "Oh! I know the perfect place for you!! C'mon!" Dragging him back outside.

They end up at an old greenhouse, some of the panels broken and hidden in the woods. "This was here waaay before me. I think I'm the only one that's found it. There's so many abandoned places on the property so it's a bit of a fixer upper but... I thought maybe you should have a place too, you know? And!- and you can have so many plants in there! It's in the woods so, you know, your element!"

Mountain just smiles, watching Dew ramble and show the nearby shed, blabbering more and more about all the abandoned places he knows. They keep sneaking out to the greenhouse, Mountain slowly fixing it but constantly staring through the last panel that looks up at the stars, Dew curled up in his arm and head on his chest.

"It's so pretty out here..."

"It is."

And he's looking directly as Dewdrop who's unaware. "It's absolutely beautiful."

[soulfullives]

“Today, we will be discussing werewolves. Can anyone tell me what werewolves are?”

Lily Evans’ hand instantly shot up. “They are XXXXX-classified beasts in The Ministry of Magic. A werewolf, also known as a lycanthrope, is a creature which normally resembles a human being but, upon the rising of the full moon, became an uncontrollable wolf.”

He wasn’t going to be listening to that, knowing that Peter and James were in the hospital wing, waiting for Remus to wake up.

Sirius’ hand, instinctively, shot up. “First of all, they should only be classified under the full moon, because during every other day of the month, they’re human. Second of all, The Ministry doesn’t know jackshit—”

“Mr. Black!”

“And they do not resemble a human being, because they are one. Third of all, lycanthropy is an infection, not something you’re born with.”

“Never said it is,” Evans said, turning her head to face him with a smile, but he could almost feel her teeth gritting, “but if you were to look in The Prophet at the attacks, there’s a few of them of werewolves, right?”

“That’s a generalisation, Evans. There are werewolves who live in the wilderness and werewolves who live among humans. And the werewolves who live on the outskirts of society were driven away by wix, who pointed at them and called them beasts and monsters.”

“Why so invested in the topic, Black? Are you a werewolf?” Snape drawled, barely looking up from his paper.

“Yeah,” Sirius replied, barely sparing him a glance, “next time you piss me off, I’ll come to the dorms and maul you in your sleep.”

Snape settled on scoffing at him and turning back to talking to his “mate.” Sirius focused his attention back on Lily.

“And let’s not forget the werewolf registry, who is cruel and, frankly, idiotic by itself. Who expects werewolves to go sign themselves up to be locked up? That must be one of the least thoughtful things they’ve done, which says a lot, all things considered. Nobody’s gonna go sign themselves up for something like that.”

“It would be a protection method. They’re safe—”

“They’re not exactly fucking comfortable, though, are they?”

“Mr. Black!”

“Well, no,” Evans replied, sounding slightly irritated. “Obviously not. But it would be better for those around them, too. Would you like to be ripped to shreds?”

“Mrs. Evans!”

“No, I would not, and no, it would not be, because it’s uncomfortable and the transformation is horrible enough as is. Maybe, for one, we should think about,” He air-quoted, “the lower creatures, and try finding options that benefit them especially, more than us. They’ve got as many rights as we have.”

The bell rang; a class dismissed.

“Meet me after class, Mr. Black.”

“Gladly, Professor.”

“Black! One second!” Evans said, as Sirius started packing his bags. He grinned to himself; bingo.