#ALSO MORE ABOUT GRACE PLEAS

[agustdtown1]

FOREVER GRATEFUL | JJK

PAIRING: jeon jungkook x fem!reader.

SUMMARY: jeon jungkook was a man like no other, one that cared for you and your sinful needs more than he should, and for that you will forever be grateful.

WC: 5.6k

WARNINGS: age gap, jungkook’s older than reader (although there’s no mention of a specific age), their relationship is not the healthiest but they manage, jk’s line of work is not specified but it is hinted that it’s illegal, small (very small) mention of blood, pet names (doll, princess, pretty girl…), it is hinted —and mentioned, that reader doesn’t have much experience about sex, smut, pwp (porn with plot because I got carried away, but only here and there), restraining, blindfolding, unprotected sex (be better), fingering, light choking, biting, marking, name calling (slut, dumb), jk cumming inside reader, i kinda rushed the end so it’s not that good tbh. 18+ only!

A/N: so… this is my first time writing for the boys since I created my account, I hope this is not as bad as I think it is and that you can enjoy your reading. Lmk what you think and also, english is not my first language so if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes pls just ignore them <3!

masterlist

“Stay still.”

A husky voice rang into your ears, making a feeling as warm as the sun start to spread through your whole body; an electrifying sensation running through your veins, while goosebumps found solace on your skin. His voice has always been your favorite sound. The raspiness and low register adorning the man’s voice often got you weak in the knees, whenever he would whisper to you or call your name. And this time was no different, however, it seemed to have a stronger power over you. As magnetic as the voice of a siren, pulling the unlucky sailors out of the safety of their boats and into the depths of the cold water of the ocean; ready to devour them in such a frenzy that the last thing you could hear from the poor men was the start of a plea that would forever be unfinished.

Regardless of the difference between scenarios, the comparison seemed to be fitting. Jeon Jungkook was often described as magnetic, with the words alluring and charming following not so far behind. It would explain why you were found in such an interesting predicament at the moment.

A chill breeze brushing over your warm, bare skin, snapped you out of your wandering thoughts. The indication was short and simple. Discard your clothes from the very first moment you walk into the room and wait for him in bed. And so, your body, as many times before, was left completely exposed to Junkook’s hungry eyes; moreover, his eagerness to devour you was crystal clear, not daring to hide his fervent desire of having another taste of your sweet body. Watching you like a predator would to its prey.

His hands were tingling with excitement, for the future adventure both of you would go through, in a matter of minutes. Tonight, like many others, was dedicated solely to you, to your enjoyment; for you to, once again, discover a part of yourself that has yet to see the morning sun and yet to taste the deliciousness of the unknown. A new experience, a new journey, a brand new feeling for you to replay over and over again in your head, during those painfully lonely nights, when you could only find calmness in the feather-like touch of your fingers, running through your needy and greedy body.

Jungkook, however, knew exactly what he was doing by making you wait until your breaking point, waiting for a whine to fall from your precious lips, or for your desperate hand to reach out to him, whatever happens first, but in a silent plea for even a sliver of his attention. He had memorized every gesture, every reaction, every movement you would do, and it entertained the man more than it should.

“You’re tense.” Jungkook pointed out, easing the knots in your shoulders with his skillful hands. “What’s gotten you this aggravated, princess?”

It was the mocking tone, the graceful touch, or even his inviting eyes; whatever it was, it served as a decisive factor to push yourself forward and wrap your arms around his empty neck, like a snake would with its prey; hard and firm.

Desperate hands were first, then.

“You.” An answer was uttered, yet there was a lack of reaction from the man in front of you.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Jungkook taunted, acknowledging the power he had over you. “But don’t think I have forgotten the order I gave you.”

It left you confused for a good second, before his strong hands reached out for yours, stripping himself off from your needy touch.

“Stay still.” Jeon ordered once again, smirking once you obeyed.

You knew better than to challenge him, knowing that your safest option was to follow his instructions with no objection, if you wanted to get your awaited reward, that is.

Who would have thought that you’d be so accustomed to this routine. If asked, then give. If given, then be grateful for it.

The older man has improved your sex life in a matter of a few months, introducing your inexperienced self to the wonders of healthy and eccentric intercourse. Jungkook has proven to you many times in the span of a few months that your negative expectations of sex were granted by your poorly skilled sexual partners. Never once experiencing a dull moment since you were left in the dangerous hands of Jeon Jungkook.

If asked, then give. If given, be grateful.

Just like a believer would with whatever God sets in their path. Just like a kid would when a gift was left under the Christmas tree. You were grateful. It was easy to be. For it was gratefulness that had been installed within you from the moment yours and Jungkook’s paths have crossed.

Nonetheless, as grateful as you were, the hesitation in the back of your head didn’t seem to want to leave. The more Jungkook gave you, the more you wondered if you deserved it. But it reasoned with you that the true cause for your indecisiveness was the premise under which your relationship with the tattooed man had developed.

They don’t make men like him anymore, it’s what your friend had told you when she first introduced you to him, and it scared you. It frightened you that your only option to survive in such a cruel world was to cling to a man that was yet to explain what his line of work was. But then again, you didn’t want to know.

If Jungkook came back from work, looking unkempt and exhausted it was none of your business. That blood stain has always been on his shirt for all you knew. His sketchy friends have never once disrespected you, and that was enough for the time being. If he has broken the law, you don't need to know.

You would never know.

If asked, then give. If given, be grateful. If grateful, show it.

That’s a matter in which you could actually participate. In fact, it’s the way you were taught to be for the past few months.

You earn what you’re given, so show manners and be thankful.

Don’t question, just take. A mindset that has gotten you to where you were right now. In the bedroom of, by far, the most dangerous man in all Korea. Yet, not once has your well-being been threatened, and for that you're grateful.

And you're about to show it.

“You deserve it.” Jungkook reminded you before straying away to roam through his drawers.

The anticipation was killing you. Your eager eyes couldn’t see past his bare and muscular back facing you. Jeon thrived on the way your lustful gaze would always settle on his body, hence the lack of a shirt. Only a low waisted pair of jeans, that allowed you to see the hem of his Calvin Klein underwear, were preventing you from seeing his firm thighs.

You enjoyed the view, more than you probably should. How his muscles flexed when he moved, and the way his toned back shone under the dim light of the room.

It was such a delectable sight for your painfully sore eyes.

“You ready?” The question snapped you out of your thoughts, making you notice how close he was now.

“Yes.” You answered with light hesitation.

Your major enemy showing up once again: indecisiveness. But that wouldn’t stop you from giving yourself to the man in front of you. Not this time.

“Yes, what?” Jeon insisted. “Don’t forget your manners.”

“Yes, sir, I’m ready.” It fell naturally from your lips.

A satisfied smirk appeared on his face.

“Good girl.”

The dark haired man reached out for your wrists, placing a delicate kiss on both of them before tying them with a silky tie of his, and forcing your wandering hands to stay still once and for all.

“Do you trust me?” Jungkook gently asked.

“No, sir, I don’t.”

It was the only correct answer, and both you and Jungkook knew it.

The moment he earned your trust would be the moment he’d have to leave you behind, to fend for yourself and for you to learn how to navigate through the dark corners of your unlucky life.

Trusting him means leaving your guard down, leaving your guard down means being vulnerable, and Jungkook knew better than to be vulnerable, especially in the type of life he lived in. He didn’t want you to make that mistake, and if it meant giving you reasons to doubt him, then so be it.

“Are you gonna do as I say?” Jeon inquired.

“I will.”

“Good.” He leaned down to steal a harsh kiss from you. “You have no idea how bad I’m going to ruin you tonight.”

A slight shiver ran down your spine, knowing too well that his words were far from being an empty promise.

His tattooed hands descended on your bare body, ever so delicate, ever so tender. A stark contrast to what his real intentions were, and it left you craving more of it. Your insatiable desire for being thoroughly worshiped by his lips, his hands, all of him. It was never enough, and it will never be.

Like a stray dog in need of being fed, you needed his touch to be satisfied. Luckily for you, Jungkook was always a man to deliver everything you asked for, even if not verbally.

His eyes, never swerving from your body, took in all the reactions you gave him; from the way your lips formed a perfect o-shape, freeing the most delicious sounds, to how your back arched oh so naturally when his already trained fingers made their way towards the south part of your body. The place where he would get baptized every night, like a strong believer. Ending his thirst with the holy liquid you would suffice him with, not once asking for anything in return, but thankful of his merciful goddess showing appreciation for his dedication.

The only thing is, you weren’t a goddess and he wasn’t a believer. And the whole scenario was way more dirty in reality than what you’d often fantasize.

“Such a pretty doll.” Jungkook brought you back into reality with his husky voice, “Always so responsive.”

His middle finger traveled down to reach your entrance, teasing you with his light touch. Waiting for your reaction, waiting for you to beg. But just like he knew you so well, it was easy for you to tell when he wanted something from you. So rather than give Jungkook what he wanted, you settled for playing a game that would get you in a situation where not even God would help you.

You moved your hips ever so lightly, testing how far you could go without the tattooed man reminding you who’s in charge. Chasing his touch was easy, attaining it was a whole different story. And it was proven to you that tonight the ball was not in your court, when all you got was a chuckle from the man, while he retrieved his hand and leaned down to be face to face with you.

“Have you not learned anything yet, princess?” His dark voice made you tremble in your spot. “Or have you forgotten how things work around here, hm?”

Unwilling to answer, the only response he got from you was a strained whine, yet Jeon could see the desperation in your eyes, the fervent desire to be ruined by him, to be left defenseless and at his complete mercy. Your body wasn’t yours anymore; it stopped being yours the moment he set his eyes on you.

Jeon Jungkook owned you, that much was obvious. And as terrifying as it was, the fact was equally thrilling.

“How badly do you want me?” He tried again, with a question that drove you crazy. “Be good for me and say the words, princess.”

Wasn’t it evident? People often thought that you were too harsh to deal with, too rude, too much to handle. It didn’t offend you, nor did it crack your heart whenever someone would complain about your hot temper and crude attitude. However, at this precise moment, you were giving the man in front of you exactly what he was asking for, albeit not verbally, but your body was working on its own accord. For every light touch, Jeon would get a shiver, squirming, even a plea from your eyes. Any reaction that was in the books, you were already serving it for him.

Nonetheless, it seemed like you weren’t compliant enough for the older man.

“So bad.” You opted to respond instead, finally giving in. “I need you, I want you. Please, sir.”

It was like music to his ears. Your delightful voice, flying through the room as if it were the sweetest melody. Not even the singing of an angel would achieve the reaction that you were pulling from Jungkook right now. Just listening to you beg for him, that’s all Jeon ever wanted.

“You are being so good and polite, baby.” He praised you. “I’ll give you what you need, but…” The dark haired man drifted off, pulling out a blindfold from the back of his jeans. “I’m afraid we’ll do it my way.”

Terrifying, as looking into the depths of a deserted forest, but it was sinful enough for you to crave it. It was exciting regardless of what the whole ordeal entailed. Therefore, when the tall man approached you, with a silky blindfold resting on his hands, you were ready to follow his orders with no objections.

In a matter of seconds you were deprived of Junkook’s hard features, leaving you with a view of pure darkness, and causing your body to start squirming and moving around due to the anticipation. It was difficult to find calmness in such a stressful moment, but you managed. However, Jeon decided to start toying with you, taking advantage of the fact that you were unaware of your surroundings. And so his fingers commenced a trip down the tender flesh of your neck, rapidly traveling down your collarbones and lightly gracing your nipples, only for later on to pinch both of your buds in a harsh manner, one that ripped a strained gasp out of your mouth.

A sardonic smile took place on his face, however, you couldn’t see it. His free hand traveled up to push your cheeks together, enjoying how plump your lips looked and not being able to resist the urge to bite them.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his teeth sinking in the flesh of your lips, along with the way his fingers were kneading every inch of your body.

“Relax and stay still.” Jeon ordered. “I know you’ll love this.”

His soothing voice was helping you to calm down, but it wasn’t enough. The sensations that were running through your body and the lack of proper touch left you in an unbearable agony. You craved to feel him closer, for his skin touching yours, for his breath mixing with yours while your bodies were intertwined in a passionate race to free both of your souls. What he was giving you wasn’t enough, but then again, when has it been?

A greedy little thing, that’s what Jungkook has always called you. And rightfully so, because you longed for him in ways no one else had done, and it scared him. Jeon was afraid you might be too attached to him, moreover, to your own idea of him. The way you would reach for his hand, almost as second nature, when you were out and about, or how your eyes always gravitated towards his figure whenever he stepped into a room. That terrified him. Because it meant you were addicted to him in the same way he was to you, and that could only mean trouble in the long run.

Tonight, however, was not about his fears and insecurities. Tonight was meant to be for you; to supply you with the utmost pleasure you were able to handle, and even if you couldn’t, Jungkook was willing to give you more than what you asked for. So rather than letting his mind wander to places he wasn’t fond of, the man decided to grant you what you were desperately looking for.

His slender fingers slid into your warm hole, filling you up as best as possible. Moving in ways that would haunt you forever, as a reminder that no one —not even yourself, will be able to touch you and treat you like he could.

“There you go…” He muttered, so close to your ear that made you shiver. “Is that enough for my little slut?”

His husky voice echoed through every corner of the room, pulling a light gasp out of you. It wasn’t strange for you to hear him say such lewd things or call you such unspeakable names, but every single time he did, it awakened a wild sensation within you.

Answering to his question you shook your head no, adamant to get more of him, and desperately wanting to be filled to the brim with something more than his fingers.

“More…” You begged. “Please, more.”

His fingers were avidly moving, pumping in and out of your velvety walls at a steady pace. His touch seemed to be enhanced and it felt much more than any other time. Whether it was because you couldn’t see nor could you touch anything, or because of his skillful movements, you couldn’t tell. Nevertheless, there was no complaint. It felt terribly good.

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

Your whiny voice was making Jungkook experience unspeakable things. He was eager to have you, eager to touch you, eager to have a taste of you. But more importantly, so desperate to fuck you. In the same way he awakened a wild side of you with his dark stare, you drove him absolutely crazy with the little noises you made. Furthermore, having you underneath him, moaning his name while squirming in pleasure, and feeling pure bliss due to how good he made you feel, was boosting his ego.

Jeon Jungkook was a man that always strived to be praised, even for the little and insignificant things. So to say he was thrilled and satisfied by the way you were chanting his name like a sinful prayer, along with how your body was responding insanely good to his touch, would be an enormous understatement.

He was on the verge of losing control and claiming you in such an animalistic way, that would leave anyone who happened to be near his room, concerned for your well-being.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look like this?” It was a question that didn’t need an answer.

Jungkook was entranced by the way you were reacting to his touch, watching your skin coated in goosebumps and how your legs would try to wrap around his waist to pull him closer, in need of him. It has always amazed him how innocent and clueless you looked and acted on the daily, yet somehow you knew what to do to make him act up, to drive him crazy. It was as if you were just pretending to know nothing just to tease him, just to make him never leave you, but deep down Jungkook knew you were sincere.

Your life has been tough, to say the least, and he knew you were in need of guidance, in need of someone to hold your hand and walk you through the crude stages of life. Jeon has never told you, but part of the reason why he took interest in you was due to his protective instinct. The older man knew you needed protection, from who or what? It wasn’t clear, but he instantly knew he was the right one to do it.

Oddly enough, there was no one better than the most dangerous man in South Korea to keep you safe.

But the way you would act so innocently drove him crazy.

Even when you tried to act confident, there was this sprinkle of hesitation every time you did something —indecisiveness striking again. And it was difficult to ignore it, moreover, it was difficult to hide it. The man could see right through your weak act, and spot your nervousness from miles away.

Even when you sucked him off in his office after a tiring meeting, he knew you were slightly scared to do such a thing.

Someone pretending to be clueless wouldn’t act as eager and clumsy as you did back then, although there has been some improvement since that time. Your teeth wouldn’t make an appearance anymore, you would use the right amount of saliva to make it messy but still look appealing for Jeon. The man loved how now you use more of your tongue to tease his tip and how far he could go into your throat. But none of that would’ve been attained without his help.

If given, be grateful. If grateful, show it.

It all goes back to the same predicament: you often showing your thankfulness for every little thing Jungkook has done for you.

He saved you, in the same way that a human would take an injured bird into their home to help it heal. Only for the person to cage it after the bird it’s back on its feet. Whereas Jeon Jungkook saved you from your previous way of living, he also owned you, preventing you from leaving his side.

Your broken moan snapped the dark haired man back into reality. His eyes were glazed with lust, looking right down on you and your tempting body.

“Are you close yet, doll?”

He knew you were. Jungkook could feel you clenching on his fingers, but he wanted to hear it from you.

“Yes, I’m so close.” You whined.

Your hands were moving so much, trying to break free from the tie that was preventing you from touching him. Jeon silently enjoyed it, he enjoyed how addicted to him you were, that it was a torture for you to not touch him in any way. You were so accustomed to feeling him, every single inch, that being restrained felt like pure hell.

“Please… More, faster…” You once again begged, and this time Jungkook couldn’t handle it.

Ignoring your protests, he pulled his fingers out, rapidly stripping off the rest of his clothes to position himself in between your legs. Because yes, he was on the verge of losing control before, but now his racional side flew out the window, and so he couldn’t wait a second longer to be wrapped in the warmth of your walls, ready to take him in.

“My sweet girl, don’t be impatient.” Jungkook cooed at you. “I’ll give you something better.”

Without further ado, he thrusted into you with a hard pump. It ripped a moan out of you, making you tug at the tie even more. You were beyond annoyed that you couldn’t touch him nor could you see his beautiful figure while he fucked you, although it enhanced the rest of your senses.

You could hear his little noises more clearly, feel his touch even better than you usually would, and taste him so much more in every kiss he gave you. It was truly a blessing and a curse.

“You’re so tight, Y/n.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth, preventing himself from moving manically just yet.

Jeon could see the struggle in your face, the way you were clenching on his dick so hard that it was almost impossible for him to move. No matter how many times he’s fucked you, you would never get accustomed to his size. But in reality, the actual problem was that the man hasn’t done exactly that in a while.

Truth be told, there was a reason for your eagerness, for your desperation. For your ambition to have more of him. Jungkook has been neglecting you the past couple of days, perhaps not on purpose, but his line of work has required him to travel to the other side of the world for a whole week. And now that he was back you were ready to trap him in your limbs for as long as you could have him.

“I haven’t fucked you in a while that your pussy is already forgetting how my cock feels, huh?” He acknowledged the situation. “Maybe I’ll have to remind this tight cunt who owns it.”

Without a warning, he gave a hard thrust once again, bottoming out. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t forget how big his dick was or how good it felt. Many nights you fantasized about his fat cock pounding into you while the only thing you could use to pleasure yourself was your fingers. It was such a sad comparison, especially because it proved that what he once told you was completely true.

No one will be ever able to satisfy your carnal needs in the same way that he does. No one will be able to make you come undone with their touch. You could only daydream about Jungkook rocking into you hard and rough, during those lonely nights when the only thing you could use was your small fingers.

Luckily for you, now you have it, the real thing. Now you could feel the tip of his cock hitting every right spot the more the thrusted into you. His veiny member slamming over and over into your throbbing cunt, crying for more of him.

“So fucking greedy. My dirty slut can never get enough of me, huh?” Jungkook groaned, “Look at you, already a mess and I’ve barely done anything, sweetheart.”

It was such a true statement. Even if there was no way for you to look at yourself, you were sure of your disheveled appearance. Sweat was coating your skin, making your messy hair stick to your forehead and nape, your lips were now swollen and shiny due to the wet kisses Jeon has shared with you.

But it has always been like this. Jeon always knew what to do, what to say, how to touch you to turn you into a babbling and whiny mess, one who could only chant his name and ask for more, like the little ambitious and greedy girl you were. Regardless of the way you would sometimes demand more of his attention, more of his touch, he loved it. The tattooed man loved how ruined you looked at the end of your rendezvous, staring at your tear stained cheeks and swollen lips. Jungkook was always fascinated by how fucked out you were once he was done with everything, it was his favorite look on you.

“You like this, don’t you? Being used like a fuck toy, not being able to do anything to fight me.” The older man let out a dark chuckle, while one of his hands crept up to wrap itself around your throat. “So defenseless and needy, letting me do anything to you.”

The more he talked the closer you got. You knew it was a matter of time for you to cum. And you couldn’t be more thankful for that.

Jungkook kept rocking into you at a rapid and harsh pace, fucking your brains out while calling you names that he knew would pull a reaction out of you.

“My dumb baby, taking me so well.” He praised you. “You always know how to take my cock, willing to let me fuck this pretty pussy however I want.”

You could only nod, gasping for air and moving your hips to meet his thrusts as best as possible. It was like a race to see which one would finish first, although it was clear that the man ramming into you would not relent until you were crying and shaking underneath him.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy.” He confessed, leaning down to kiss your soft lips.

His free hand traveled down in between your legs to place his skilled thumb over your clit. His movements were like a bucket of cold water poured over your burning skin. It calmed the building fire in between your legs, just as much as it fueled your already approaching orgasm.

“You feel so amazing around my dick.” Jeon hissed over your lips, hypnotized by the way his aching cock would get lost into your soaked cunt.

“Oh god…” You moaned. “Please don’t stop, I’m so fucking close.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” A promise, far from being empty.

It was clear that Jeon was getting close as well by the way he so desperately was pounding into you, moaning lowly and leaning down to bite your neck.

His lips and teeth were doing wonders on your skin, marking you up with his bites and sucking on your flesh as well. Jungkook was devouring you, tasting you, ruining you as he promised.

“Holy shit…” He said in a raspy voice. “You’re all mine, aren’t you? Only I can make you feel like this.”

“Yes, yes, yes…” You chanted back, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“Come on, tell me, pretty girl.” He requested. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.” You slurred your words out.

It only encouraged the man to fuck you harder, meaner, faster… Exactly how you liked it. Jungkook was aware of it, he knew you like the palm of his hand, and although it was concerning how much he knew about you, it also came in handy in moments like this.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Jungkook alerted you, snapping both of you from your wandering thoughts.

“Cum, inside me.” You croaked out, biting on your bottom lip.

It was a risky request, something that you might regret in the future, not only because you weren’t on any contraception, but it entailed being connected to him in such an intimate way, one that neither of you were ready for.

“Are you sure?” He asked with a soft tone, yet you could hear the agitation in his voice. “Are you okay with… oh fuck, with me cumming in you?”

“Yes, yes, please. Just do it, fill me up, please.” You struggled to say. “I need to feel your cum deep inside me.”

Jungkook felt like dying with the lewd words you were spewing.

You were drunk on the ecstasy of the whole experience. Not being able to look at your surroundings, being restrained, the way Jeon was pistoning into you, hitting spots that no one has ever been able to reach before; the sinful words spilling from his lips, his hand still wrapped around your neck, albeit more loosely now. Everything was clouding your mind and leaving you in such a lax state, that prevented you from forming any coherent thought.

Regardless, your consensual words were all he needed to let go, shooting his hot cum inside of your greedy pussy.

“Oh god…” Jungkook moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His orgasm triggered yours, throwing you over the edge in a matter of seconds, right after he came. Your whimpers were loud and high pitched, your body was burning and trembling, and you were sure the light makeup you were previously wearing was smudged by now.

You were panting, trying your best to calm your agitated breathing. Jungkook was still inside of you, with his face hidden in your neck, breathing as heavily as you were. Both still intertwined in a mess of sweaty limbs.

After a few minutes where both of you recovered from the intense orgasms you just had, Jeon finally pulled out, separating himself from you. His hands flew up to free yours, making you whine softly; he placed a soft kiss on both of your wrists, making sure the tie didn’t hurt you. The blindfold came off next, and it took a few seconds for your eyes to get used to the dim light after seeing pure darkness.

“How was it?”

A simple question, one that, in the ears of an oblivious listener, would mean nothing. An inquiry that held more significance and concern than a simple are you okay?; it was subtle but it spoke volumes the way Jeon Jungkook would still feel the need to protect you, even from himself.

He never voiced his worries properly, trying to play it cool but secretly concerned that he might have hurt you in any way. The man never learnt how to correctly communicate with others, but he would be damned if he didn’t express how much he cared for you in other ways.

“Amazing…” Was your response, albeit in a hoarse voice.

Your throat was slightly aggravated, feeling terribly dry after attempting to voice the pleasure and enjoyment from the experience, through the small space there was left from Jungkook’s hard grip on it. However, it didn’t stop you from answering his concerns.

Amazing, fascinating.

It was the only way to describe it, your mind was too foggy to think of a proper answer, but by the way he was smirking you could tell he was satisfied with your response.

“Good.” He nodded. “Don’t move, I’ll bring a towel to clean you up and a bottle of water.”

Before he could step out of the room your weak voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait…” You called for him.

If asked, then give; if given, be grateful. If grateful, show it.

“Thank you.” A small whisper was all it took for the man to walk back at you, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Get some rest, I’ll be right back.”

You were left alone in the big room, spread out on the mattress while your mind was trying to comprehend all the events that just happened. Your heart was filled with questions, but you knew better than to ponder over those inquiries.

Jeon Jungkook was a man like no other, one that cared for you more than he should, and for that you will be forever grateful.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook fic #🥢town originals! #🥢.townsmut!

[munsonthings86]

sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanon #soft!steve harrington #stranger things 4 #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x poc!reader

[love-toxin]

bonus night - mike schmidt

plot: jk it's just por-//SHOT

(cws: fem!reader, FNAF movie spoilers!!!, rough sex, riding, begging, a teeny tiny taste of dom mike, tit sucking, bruising, protected sex w/ a twist, post-fnaf canon, established relationship)

wc: 2k

There's absolutely no question that it's been a long fucking day. One of many, in fact, both behind him and yet to come.

Aside from his sleep schedule still being tremendously fucked from that five night ordeal, Mike's also had the stress of landing a new job and keeping it this time. He's lucky–god, he's lucky that an old friend of his just happened to have a connection–but that just puts more pressure on his ability to keep a level head and not lose this one. Plus, with his meds cut out as well as a whole host of new traumas to keep him up at night it's almost more stressful than fighting for his own life. With today being the end of orientation and the first real shift on the job, it's finally sinking in that a new chapter of life has started but his problems are still an uphill battle.

Bills, backpay, rent, Abby's therapy, pacifying their aunt who was quite aghast at waking up disheveled on their living room floor…it's been a process to say the least. His one saving grace has been you. You. His beautiful, gentle angel, with a voice like sugar and honey and skin as soft as velvet, warm like a shallow pool on a summer's day that he'd want to float in for hours. You're so precious he can't think of a single thing he's done in life that tops being your lover, or even comes close.

Well…maybe there's one thing.

“Mike,” The squeaking of the bed beneath you just barely drowns out the high, sweet whimper that your voice has melted into. “Please baby, slow down-”

A squeaky “ah!” flies from your mouth regardless of that insistent plea, your lover's hips like stone pistons as he bucks up and topples you over to land back against his chest. He loves you there; the feeling of your tits squished against his chest as he holds your ass in an iron grip. Thumbs dig into each cheek, palms splayed out to keep you spread but still in your place–stretched enough to take him but tight enough not to let him slip out. Not even now, an hour after he carried you through the door over his shoulder, when his spit and cum and sweat have coalesced into a damp sheen spilling over his lap. Fuck the mess. He'll clean it up later, if he doesn't just throw his whole bundle of sheets into the wash to scrub away the evidence.

Each thump, thump, thump of your body thrown down rings more in your ears than his, but both of you feel it equally. Your womb kissed with hard, stinging passion on every thrust, and Mike's stomach twisting and flexing as his cockhead beats that spot raw, instincts begging him to drain all he has left inside. He's got lots of pent-up energy to spare, and on the one night that his sister's gone to a sleepover you can bet he took the chance to let some of it out. He'd barely had time to grab a condom–as eager as he was, it pales in comparison to the heat between your thighs when you see him get all riled up. If he'd let you put it on for him, you'd probably have it off in a second. Now he's just at the mercy of your needy and downright addictive pussy.

“Fuck!” Your mewls shift into a spitting, hissing curse when he bites down on one of those beautiful breasts of yours. Unlike what a weaker man would do, Mike isn't averse to leaving bruises–what else could be expected? He tries to be a gentleman in public and you always tell him he is, but the desire to put hands all over those pretty tits and mark his claim on them is second nature now. And no matter how much you'll complain about them being sore afterwards, you'll still push them in his face with that devilish look that's daring him to do it all over again.

Besides, he can't resist those things swinging right in front of him. And you'll forget the sting so quickly, his tongue will make short work of those shallow wounds you feel as he latches his lips and starts to suck. Greedily.

“Mike!”

Your hands in his hair won't stop him. But they don't really want to–as always you love to tug but you never push him back, you don't try to get any more space between you because what's already there is still not close enough.

God your whiny voice is so cute. He couldn't feel more lucky to have picked you up when he did. How would he know that the girl he helped out once for an ice cream would end up being his girlfriend? He just thought you were cute, and he felt bad seeing your face fall as you counted out your change in line, so he hadn't thought twice about the dollar he put down on the counter in your stead. Such an adorable little ditz, and now he's got you riding his lap and kissing him awake nearly every morning. If he wanted to catch a break, this is it.

“M-Mike, m'gonna cum,” Your whimpers dig into his ear and tug at the strings of his heart, his head already turned to soothe you with a low, soft shush brushed by your cheek. There there. With a stroke of your hair, you're melting again.

“Mhm,” He hums again, his warmth a lull following the furious heat that's been sparked by the friction of his hips pumping at a violent pace. “Shh, sh sh. We’ll go slow, I promise.” His murmuring muddies your head, his fingers descending quickly towards their destination. Once they reach it at the crest of your soft, pudgy mound that's been brutalized by his cock, he's glad to see you finally let that tension go as you slump forward into his chest. You just need to cling to him for awhile, and he certainly won't be complaining.

The smell of your sweat, your heat, your sleek, soft tongue wetting the bruises your teeth leave in his throat, all that whining and groaning and high, girlish squealing as your hips hump his lap–these and more are all reasons he has to absolutely worship you. Your starry-eyed gaze as you look upon him in ecstasy etches itself into his very soul. He won't ever forget this…he won't ever forget you. Not the warmth of you both being cheek-to-cheek, your hand coaxing out his end as it trails reverently from his jaw down his heaving chest.

“Pleeeeease,” You whisper, so achingly sweet he could cry as easily as cum. “Please, baby?”

Please. Such a pretty word. Prettier from your mouth most of all, so pretty it hurts–nearly stings as he digs his nails in and leaves marks on each cheek, though it will moreso for you when you wince at sitting down at your desk tomorrow morning. You're shaking, trembling more like, and even if he made you wait for it you wouldn't be able to obey. The spasms wracking through you can't be controlled, nor can the grind of your hips down as you let those strong hands drag you all the way to the base. So far that it causes a twinge in your expression as the orgasm passes, your ecstasy blotting out the stretch that you're gonna feel all the way up to your hips in the morning.

But he's got to get in deep, has to make it ache, so he's got a grip so firm it's trembling up his arms and you're shaking even harder on top of him as he digs in and lets loose. There's no question he's hit your womb, it's more curious to whether he's broken through it or not…by the way you bite down on his shoulder and bear the pressure, though, he must be nearly there. Nearly squeezing through that tight, tight wall so he's draining his seed right where it's meant to be. And you paw at him all the while, lower lip quivering, tears threatening to spill, yet you won't let up on rubbing yourself back on his thighs–it just isn't enough until you've taken all he has to give, and even then he can spot that gleam in your eyes that begs for even more. The fact that the condom's split isn't even in his mind, it's floated so far away he won't think of it until it's too late to stop.

Yet all that heat hits the same end after the climax. The friction subsides, the breathing slows, and the two of you are left in content silence as you quietly come back to your senses. There's something even more intimate about losing oneself as a collective; being so hedonistic in pursuing an indulgence, yet facing the fear of baring your own heart to one you love in the process, and reaching an even more satisfying end as it all comes to a close. It's glorious. He wouldn't trade it for anything. He wouldn't trade sex for his own life now that he's had it with you. But, again, he's still coming down from the high–he’ll most certainly feel the embarrassment of losing himself so indulgently as the cool air from the AC starts setting in.

“Was that good, baby?” Your tone just drips with deliciously sinful innocence, god. You've got such a proud expression on your face as he finds the words through his post-coital haze, hands inching back down your ass to grab handfuls of it yet again. Once he's got a grip he tugs, and draws you closer to meet you in a kiss–and as wet as it still is from the exercise, the way you lean into it and giggle is just enough to send his heart burning into passionate flames yet again.

“Very. Always is.” Panting, sweaty, he'd have no trouble convincing the neighbors he was just having it out on a treadmill for the last hour. If he could afford one.

“The best you've ever had?”

“Best. Best and only. Can I get up now?”

“Mmm…” You make a show of thinking up your answer only to tap him on the nose as you lean forward over him. “...No. I like this.”

Mike claps you on the ass suddenly, the smack echoing loudly in his modest little bedroom and eliciting a squeal from you that's just as punctual. Your squirming only draws a heat up inside him again though, and he knows better than anyone that that's exactly what you want. You'd be happy if he never got out of bed again, and if he spent all day with his cock nestled nice and warm inside you.

“Up. I gotta piss. Don't make me count.”

“Fiiiiiiine.” Huffy and puffy as always, you soon relent and slip off with a bit of manoeuvring to flop into bed beside him. “Can I at least hold it?” Rather than say something equally as shameful, he just pushes his pillow over your face with reddened cheeks and ducks with laughter as you launch it back at him, already up and on his way to the bathroom to wash off–and to soon find the evidence of that broken contraception that's definitely gonna plant a seed of worry in him when he realizes. Or…maybe not. God knows how many jokes you've made about wasting his cumshots in your mouth, and how often you've jumped him with no inkling of whether he's got a rubber in reach or not.

Maybe this is just another chapter of life, one more stage he's been readying himself for unconsciously. Whatever it comes with, he's gonna be beside you either way–so in a sense, he's more prepared than he's ever been to face what lies ahead.

#mutuals if u look at me im legally required to gag u #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #spicy writing #fnaf movie #fnaf mike #ellie writes #2k

[hannieehaee]

luna, my beloved,

can i get a very down bad (and also very horny) woozi, please?? he just gives me the vibes of a very obsessed boyfie when he's truly in love.

also, i love your works so much!!!! ♡♡♡

18+ / mdi

content: simp!jihoon, established relationship, afab reader, smut, dry humping, very fluffy, jihoon is insanely in love with reader its disgusting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, etc.

wc: 2157

a/n: thank u so much!! <3 i rewrote this four times bc way too many scenarios of woozi being down bad plagued my brain (still do), so i hope u enjoy what i came up with <3

masterlist

even after months, jihoon was unable to understand this weird feeling in his chest. one that he only ever got when he was around you (and on occasion whenever he thought about you). it was some sort of inexplicable heaviness. the beating of his heart would speed up and it would feel as if time slowed down. every touch and every breath felt like a sensible decision, and his thoughts would turn into static.

sometimes it was just in the background. sometimes he'd hold your hand or listen to you rant about your day and still be able to act as a functioning human. but there were times in which it simply overtook him.

he had had relationships before; both physical and not, but he had never experienced this feeling before. jihoon was unsure whether or not he liked it. it made him feel weak, but also made him feel more.

there were instances in which this feeling would be accompanied by lust. one accidental peak of a sliver of skin of your thigh and his lips would go completely dry. one grace of your hand a little too close to a sensitive part of his body and his knees would buckle. he was unsure if you knew about how easily it was for you to get him ready to plea for even one touch, but the truth was that it didnt matter. there was no space in his empty head to think about it in those moments.

truth was, jihoon was insanely enamored by you. some (soonyoung) would call him 'down bad' for you, but jihoon liked his term better. being enamored entailed that jihoon adored everything about you, with the pleasure you gave him included among those things. though there were times in which his lust simply grew so big that jihoon could admit to simply being down bad horrendously for you.

currently, that feeling in his chest was ever so present, and he knew that his lust was just about to take over. nothing had yet happened, but still, he felt a desperation that brought a crimson color to his ears. just looking at you as you slept beside him had him holding in a whine of your name.

to be fair, you looked angelic in this moment. you were facing him – although your face was almost completely pressed up against your pillow. your arms were wrapped around your chest in front of you, causing your breasts to press up together in the form of soft mounds peeking from under your tank top. your blanket was covering most of your body but still gave him sight of some of your shoulder. your hair was covering most of your features yet he could still rejoice in your mushed up face as you seemingly made yourself as small as possible. soft breaths coming from you were the only thing he could hear. his senses were all overtaken by you, even as he leaned down and quietly smelled the floral scent from your shampoo.

the beating of his heart was so loud he was sure it ran the risk of waking you up.

it's not that he was nervous, he was simply too caught up in you. every emotion you ever made him feel was making its way to the surface, causing his hands to clam up and his lips to run dry. he wanted to touch you so badly, but he knew that the moment he did, he would fall to his undeniable lust for you. it was hard for him to simply adore you from a distance, as his carnal feelings for you would always take over somehow.

however, his need for you won, making an embarrassing side of himself take over and pull you closer to him in order to wake you up un the softest way he could. he began to pepper kisses on the nude sliver of skin your shoulder offered him, breathing heavily as he prepared himself for what he knew would come as soon as you arose from slumber.

it was only a few moments later in which you began waking up, murmuring his name in that soft morning voice he loved so much.

he hadn't mean to sound so desperate that soon, but the moment he felt you begin to arch against his hold, – encouraging him to keep kissing any available skin – he couldnt help his pleas to let him have you in a way he relished in knowing only he had the privilege of having you.

"a– angel, please ... need you so bad ..." were the first words out of his mouth, murmured against your neck as his hands rubbed at your hips through the blanket.

"hoonie? what's wrong?", you were clearly still half asleep, only taking in his touches but not computing the words he was saying. but it was fine. he could be more specific if need be.

"you're so soft ... so pretty. can i have you, angel? please?" he didnt care how desperate his first words to you that morning sounded. he never felt any shame in showing you just how badly he always wanted you.

"oh, hoonie ...", you breathed, removing the blanket from the way and pressing yourself even closer to him.

the two of you were now curled up against each other with no distance between your bodies as you faced one another. with your lack of clothing, – him in just boxers and you in a tiny tank top and booty shorts to match – jihoon was now able to feel you up as he wanted; something which he took advantage of immediately.

he finally disconnected his lips from your skin, now making eye contact at the close proximity between you. however, before even being able to express his want for you once more, his lust won over him again, making him press his lips against yours with urgency.

he moaned and whined against your lips, his hips searching for yours as he positioned himself above you. there was no way for him to help himself. you were just so soft and pretty and beautiful and perfect. nothing couldve possibly interrupted that cloud of lust that was taking over him.

jihoon still had trouble processing how such a pretty girl could ever be his. he knew he was in love with you since the day he met you. just from a first glance, he thought you the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. speaking to you as acquaintances had been hard, but befriending you had been the biggest challenge. even back then, his feelings for you manifested in very noticeable ways. all his friends would mock him for the way he'd stumble over his words or stare at you a little too much. luckily for him, this did not last long. by some grand act of god, you had found some sort of liking towards him, giving him various obvious openings for him to finally ask you out (and admittedly, it took a lot of silent encouragement from you to get him to finally act up).

upon starting your relationship, it didnt take long for jihoon to make his adoration for you known, constantly letting you know how perfect he found you in any and every capacity. all his defenses would go down when he was around you, causing him to wax poetic whenever his emotions took over him – not to mention the endless files of love songs he had produced since meeting you. anything you desired, he would deliver just for the promise of your happiness.

your relationship had him thinking that maybe his past self suffered a grand deal in a past life; just enough for karmic retribution to grant him the girl of his dreams in the next.

and that's how he felt at this moment, grinding his clothed cock against your cunt as you whined into his mouth. could life get better than this? better than having the love of his life mewling into his mouth as he carelessly canted his cock into the warm heaven between your legs? he couldnt help but groan at the reminder than you were all his, and that he had access to every inch of your breathtaking body for his and your pleasure.

"fuck ... wanna fuck you, but you feel so fucking good like this– shit ..."

"dont stop ... i can cum like this. promise!", you cried whilst pulling at his hair, assuring his mouth stayed glued to yours.

as much as he wanted to keep letting you lick into his mouth and pulling at his hair, he was craving the two mounds that were pressing up against his chest. without further thinking, he disconnected your lips, groaning at the way you tried to chase his lips before hearing you whine once again due to his rushed removal of your top and the feeling of his tongue toying with your tit.

he practically devoured your tits, licking and nipping at every inch of them before using the tip of his tongue to play with your nipples. the way you cried his name had him losing his inhibitions, making him grind even harder and faster against you. your gorgeous and warm cunt was the only thing in his mind.

despite wanting to give you an orgasm just like this, he needed more. he needed your cunt strangling him as he chased both your highs.

"can i fuck you? please ... i know you wanna cum like this, but i cant last ... wa– wanna last for you, but you just feel so ... so fucking good."

"please, hoonie. fuck me .."

he hadnt moved faster in his life, discarding his boxers and your shorts in order to prepare himself for you, but suddenly it hit him.

"baby ... c– condom? do you have any?", he had forgotten to buy new ones before you stayed over last night, so he was hoping against all hope that maybe you had some in your discarded bag in the living room.

"no, hoonie, i .. i don't have any," your eyebrows were furrowed in concern, but he could tell you were still lightheaded from the pleasure you had been feeling just a few moments ago.

"oh, i ... i can just dry hump you? yeah, uh, i'll just–", he couldnt help himself in sounding deflated. he wanted your cunt so fucking badly, but had stupidly used his last backup condom last night.

"or ... you can just .."

his head perked up at that, halting before even starting to grind his hips against yours again.

"baby– "

"just go without it, hoonie. i trust you," you gave him a soft smile, holding onto his cheek before pulling him down for a peck.

"oh, i ... fuck. y– you– " his brain was short circuiting. raw? you were going to let him have it raw? oh. oh, fuck.

"baby, please i need you so fucking badly."

he could never say no to you. as per usual, he gave you exactly what you wanted, ignoring how badly this moment would ruin him; corrupt him and smear his brain with thoughts of your unfiltered cunt for years to come.

and ruin him it did, as he immediately lost himself the moment he entered you, groaning at the warmth and wetness coating his cock.

"you're perfect. god, fuck ... you– you're going to ruin me, arent you? you al-already have, shit ... you're my dream ... love you so fucking much, oh fuck ... make me yours and never give me back, i– i need to be yours. need you every day, fuck, please ..." he babbled senselessly as his hips went crazy against yours, drinking in every cry you released and groaning at every scratch of your nails against his back.

he was already close from having dry humped you through his boxers while he made out with you earlier, but now he knew his end was just around the corner. begging you to cum inside was likely out of the question, but his body demanded he at least try, except you somehow beat him to it.

"baby, inside, please! need you to fill me up ... fuck, please ..."

he had no way to respond other than by crying your name against your neck, relishing on the sound of slapping skin as he chased his end inside you with the desperation of a starved man.

with multiple expletives and confessions of love hidden between cries of pleasure, the two of you came one right after the other, kissing each other all throughout your highs.

now jihoon felt nothing but unfiltered bliss. he held you in his arms and caressed your body to the best of his tired ability, continuing to tell you sweet words of affirmation as you did the same in return.

jihoon was more than fine with being obsessed with you if it meant having you all to himself like this. he would gladly get teased about being down horrendously bad for you as long as he had you in the end.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #jihoon scenarios #jihoon x reader #jihoon imagines #jihoon smut #jihoon fanfic #woozi fanfic #woozi x reader #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #woozi oneshot

[k-n0-x]

“First Time?” Nsfw Lucifer x Fem! Reader drabble

A/N: Hey everyone! Just a small nsfw post of lucifer x reader, I just wanted to have a quick break from ‘Something Stupid’ though dw, I’m still working on it! Just a quick snack for you all.

Enjoy <3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Darling, are you 100 percent sure if you want to do this?” Lucifer faces in front of you, his lean torso shining in the moonlight rays that graces your mutual bedroom. 

You and the King of Hell have been courting each other for almost a year, and you love each other dearly. 

Sex wasn’t a top priority (or a priority) in your relationship , though you guys talked about it recently and now you feel like you are ready to take your relationship to the next level.

“I’m sure. I really want you to be my first,” 

“First time, eh? Well don’t worry, I’ll guide you all the way. And also, remember, if you want to stop, just tell me, no questions asked,” Lucifer puts his hands on either side of your face.

“Of course,” you lean in to kiss him and sit in his lap. He deepens the embrace as his hands run across your bare back, earning a shudder from you. 

“Ah- Fuck,” Lucifer moans in between breaths, and under you, you feel a certain thing erect from under you.Seems like you have a little guest to attend to.

 You teasingly grind against Lucifer’s hard cock.

“Ah- angel, oh god, ugh,” Lucifer’s pleas for more are shown through breathless words.

You gently shush your partner, and guide yourself to his pants. 

“May, I?” You circle your fingers near his groin, getting him to moan again.

“Oh yes, please do,” he grabs the nape of your neck while pulling down his pants.

His already hard cock is seeping with pre cum, glistening the angry red tip. 

You slowly get on, whimpering at the feeling of your clit adjusting to his dick. 

“That’s it, take your time darling~” Lucifer holds your hand encouragingly.

As you get used to it, you take a deep breath, slicked with sweat.

Lucifer kisses you again once more, moving himself with you, in rhythm, almost as one.

“Ahh~ Lucifer, hng-” your breathless pants fill the room with each hump, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“My sweet girl,” Lucifer kisses and bites your neck, leaving marks in the most visible places.

Your legs buckle and shake under all the rigorous motion. It was addicting; and so wonderful.

You look down at your king with a lustful gaze. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, disheveling it in the process.

“Ugh Luci~”  you whine, kissing him on the forehead, still swaying your hips on his cock.

Similar words of the sort were screamed by you, which was music to Lucifer’s ears.

Now, it’s so easy, like keys to a whole, your wet folds contracting and relaxing in a clockwork-like motion. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you look so beautiful,” Lucifer hungrily kisses you once more, his cock pumping in and out of you.

“Hh, darling, I’m about to-” Sweating, King Lucifer was about to reach his climax, though he is still relentless with derailing you, sounds of your moans and slaps of skin on skin together in tune.

“Hng- Luci, I think I’m also gonna~” Before you could finish your sentence, it was overrode by an orgasm that hits you like a wave, arching your back like a spider.

You both breathe heavily.

“That was-”

“Phenomenal,” Lucifer finishes and gives you a peck on the cheek.

“I hope you had a lovely first time. Hopefully this won’t be the last time I make you scream my name~” 

“Oh shut up,”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Word count: 574~

<Reblogs + comments appreciated!>

#fanfiction #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader smut #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer hazbin

[nickfowlerrr]

for the hope of it all.

pairing: greedy!lee bodecker x curvy!reader

warnings: angst. bit of fluff. mentions of reader x arvin and lee x wife. little flashback to pregnant reader. uhhh, there’s a baby. if i’m missing something important please feel free to let me know.

also lmk if i should tag this as dark!lee please bc i can’t decide if it needs it or not.

words: 3.2k

notes: my first written fic for my writing event. i spun the wheel and got greed and then spun another wheel and got lee and a few hours later here we are lol. please let me know what you think! comments and feedback are so, so appreciated. thank you in advance to everyone who reads and reblogs. 🖤

“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea as the stray tear you’d been fighting to keep at bay finally slipped down your cheek.

You were quick to wipe it away, shaking your head and looking away from the gaze of the man before you. The smirk that graced his face was the whole reason you had refused to let yourself cry, despite wanting to break down the moment he’d knocked on your door.

You’d just set Teddy in his crib, watching him a moment as the newborn slept peacefully, his tiny breaths and little movements making your heart clench.

You never knew you could love someone so much until you had him. Despite the pain and all the hardships that you’d faced from the day you met his daddy, as you watched Theodore, you were sure you wouldn’t change any of it if it meant never having had him.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard a car pull up the drive. You didn’t check the window, sure you knew who it was already as you went to greet him.

Before you were even halfway down the steps, an unnecessarily loud pounding sounded from the front door.

You were startled for a second, brows furrowing as you rushed down the last few steps to open it before whoever it was could pound again and wake the baby.

You were sure now, though, it definitely wasn’t Arvin. He’d never be so careless to knock that loudly, even if he’d left his key and was locked out.

When you pulled the door open in a bit of a huff, your breath froze in your chest.

As you met the hard blue eyes of the man you’d been avoiding for the past 11 months, you weren’t sure what to do. So, you stayed as you were, blocking his view of the house as you pulled the door more closely to your body and watched him. You wouldn’t speak first. You weren’t sure you could.

“Been a while, darlin’.” He greeted, though his words were cold and stiff, as if he was trying to hold in the anger you could see raging in his eyes.

You swallowed hard. “How can I help you, Sheriff?” you asked, ignoring his comment.

He scoffed as he looked down on you. “That’s how you wanna do this, sugar? Fine,” he said before shoving his way into the house.

You were in shock as he pushed past you, your first instinct to yell at him was held back by the knowledge that your baby was asleep just up the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just barge in here because you’re police,” you nearly seethed as you follow him while he walked further in, going toward the kitchen while he looked around the place.

He spun on you at your words and stopped you in your spot. “Honey, I can do whatever the hell I want. Because I’m the sheriff,” he snarled in your face before he backed up just the slightest. He adjusted his belt as he stood to his full height and licked his teeth, trying to compose himself.

“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you, sweetheart,” he started, your heart dropping instantly. “That boyfriend a’yours seems to have gotten himself into some trouble downtown.”

Your mouth went dry as you stared at him dumbly. “No,” you shook your head. “Arvin wouldn’t do anything to get into any kind of trouble. What are you- what are you talking about?” you tried to stay calm, but the stutter was surely telling enough.

“Down at the shop,” he began, taking his time, seemingly enjoying the sight of your anxiousness written all over your face, “he had some words with Levi. Guess the kid made a comment about his girl. Imagine my surprise to find out that girl was you,” he detoured.

“What happened,” you asked pointedly, all while trying to keep your composure and your voice down.

“Well, Mr. Russell didn’t take too kindly to the things Levi said. Lost his temper. I’ll spare you the details, sweetheart. Long story short, Levi’s up at the hospital. Your little boyfriend is up at the jailhouse, waitin’ for his hearin tomorrow mornin’.”

You felt sick. This wasn’t Arvin’s first time in jail but you remember what he told you last time, the judge said one more strike and he’d be taken to county. Arvin wasn’t a bad man. He was one of the best men you’d ever known. But he did have a bit of a short fuse when it came to defending the people he loved. You’d known that since you were in school together. It was one of the things you’d always admired about him..

The one thing you were confused about right now though, was why in the hell Lee was here telling you this.

“Is he okay?” you asked quietly. The narrowing of Lee’s eyes as he looked at you, and the tick of his jaw at your question had your stomach twisting.

“Aw, ain’t that sweet. Look at you, all worried about him.”

“Lee,” you said.

“He’ll be fine,” he gruffed as he went into your fridge and took one of Arvin’s beers. You were in too much of a stupor to do or say anything about it, though.

As you watched him take a swig, your eyes finally fell on his bloodied knuckles.

You took a step back, as if he’d slapped you, somehow knowing exactly how he'd done that.

“What did you do?” you said, accusingly as you reached out and held onto the wall beside you.

“Told ya' I was surprised to hear the girl he was so concerned with, whose honor he needed to protect so badly, was you. I thought you were long gone, sweetheart. But when your name came up, I knew I’d been wrong. Knew you were somewhere out here. Took a bit to finally get him to tell me where you were, but,” he flexed his hand, “they all break in the end.”

You were seeing red at his words. He'd hurt Arvin, and for what? You couldn't let him do this, couldn't let him get to you so easily.

"You need to leave, Lee. Now. If I wanted you to know where I was, you would've. I told you I wasn't gonna wait around for you. You made your choice. So go," you said firmly as you could manage through your tight throat.

You stayed still as he set the bottle down on the counter, stalking over to you. You only blinked when he was right in front of you as you took a shaky breath in and out.

"My choice was you," he said as he pinned you against the wall, his arms trapping you. But you weren't scared. Just solemn. The hurt that never went away radiating in your soul.

"...No, it wasn't," you refuted, voice quiet as you shook your head, looking him in the eye. "It was the job. It was her. You just wanted me to be your good little whore on the side," you continued, disgusted with him and yourself, thinking about the times you let him touch you. The times you gave yourself to him. You should have known from the beginning. Maybe a part of you always did. The only way you'd get your happily ever after was if Lee chose to give it to you.

Lee Bodecker was a selfish, greedy man. He wanted it all, he didn't want to choose. But he had. Whether he acknowledged it or not, he made his choice. As much as it hurt, you had to accept that it wasn't you.

"You know that ain't fuckin' true," he snarled, holding your chin tightly in his hand as you looked up at him. His voice softened as he looked back at you. "I meant all I said to you, darlin'. I love you," he said as he pressed his forehead to yours. "If you'da just been patient," he breathed hotly, "we'd be together right now. I'da got rid of her, just like I told you I would."

The pain slipping into his voice was like daggers in your heart. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you were always told how gullible you were. Especially with Lee, you'd buy into anything he said if he said it prettily enough.

You had known you had to leave town, get away, or else you'd just run right back to him, or he'd find you and convince you to stay. You told everyone you were leaving, making sure word got around, and it did. He was too preoccupied in his campaign to bother doing anything about it, or maybe he just didn't believe you'd actually go. You weren't sure which it was.

You had enlisted the help of Arvin to assist you in packing, he had always been a good friend to you and wanted to do whatever he could. The last day you were packing away, though, you got another bout of morning sickness in front of him.

It was like Arvin knew before you did that you were pregnant. But he never left. He was there for you. Held you when you cried, assured you everything would be okay as you spilled your heart out to him, telling him everything. Instead of moving out of town like you had planned, you moved in with Arvin.

Time seemed to pass you by so quickly from then on. One day Arvin was holding your hair back for you as you emptied your stomach into his toilet, and the next he was holding your hand as you pushed through tears of pain and heartbreak while you delivered your baby in the next town over.

When the nurse had taken Teddy, you were an inconsolable mess of guilt and heartache. Arvin was right there with you, had been from the very start, but he wasn't Lee.

You were crying because Lee should have been there, should have been the one holding your hand and wiping your tears, you should have told him that you were having his baby. The guilt was crushing. Not only for having kept your pregnancy from him, but because the man who stayed beside you the entire time deserved so much better than a broken girl who was still in love with the man who broke her heart. It wasn't fair to any of you.

And then the nurse came back over, holding a blue swaddled bundle in her arms. You timidly took your baby as she handed him over to you and the second you laid your eyes on him, all thoughts just went away. The only thing you could focus on was this precious little life you held in your arms. And though your tears kept flowing, they were of overwhelming joy as you looked down at your sweet Teddy.

Teddy.

You heard him cry and your eyes went wide as Lee kept his hold on you.

Another cry as you swallowed thickly, sure your face was full of desperation as you surveyed Lee.

His brows furrowed as he looked in the direction of the living room, dropping his hand as he moved closer to the noise.

You scurried past him, stopping him from starting up at the stairs.

"Lee," was all you could manage to say.

He looked at you incredulously. "That a baby cryin' up there?" he asked rigidly.

You couldn't breathe. You didn't know what to do. Your guilt was written clear as day on your face as you pouted at him, watering puppy dog eyes pleading with him, for what you weren't sure.

"I'll say this once, then I'm not gonna be nice about it, darlin'. Either answer me or get outta my way."

Still no words could form on your tongue. When he stepped to get up the stairs, you let him pass you before turning around and quickly following him.

Lee followed the sound of the newborn cries up to the nursery. When he got to the door, you watched as he took a steadying breath before he pushed in, like he was readying himself for the sight he knew he'd be met with.

He walked slowly to the crib where Theodore was laying, crying for attention.

Lee's mouth was agape as he looked down at the baby.

Two pairs of brilliantly blue eyes staring back at one another.

You knew Lee knew instantly, there was no denying it. Teddy was his mini me. He looked exactly like his father.

You watched as Lee carefully reached down and took Teddy in his big arms, holding him safely and smiling down at him as Teddy calmed in his hold.

Your nose was tingling and it took everything in you not to burst into tears at the sight.

"What's his name?" Lee asked in a hushed tone.

"Theodore," you answered just as softly.

Theo's baby garbling had Lee laughing as he cooed down at his son. You swore you could see the gleam in Lee's eyes as he watched him.

After a sniff and a clearing of his throat, Lee's gaze shot back to you. Accusatory and angry, his hurt underlining all of it.

"You had my baby, and were just gonna keep 'im from me?"

"No, no I- I was gonna. Gonna tell you. I wanted to, I just didn't know.." you trailed off, wringing your hands.

"Didn't know what?"

"How," you answered. "Didn't know how to. Didn't know how you'd react. Wasn't entirely sure you'd want to know."

"You think I wouldn't want to know that I have a kid?" he asked harshly. You took a step to him, holding your hand out instinctively to remind him that he had the baby in his arms.

"You're married, Lee. You're holding public office. I know you well enough to know that you don't want anything to mess with that. I don't think having a child with someone other than your wife would be looked on too favorably."

"I told you I'd get rid of her," he said again, lowly. "I will."

"Lee, please," you said, exasperated. "I'm sorry. I am. I should have told you, you had a right to know, but I can't do this with you. That's why I left. I do love you," you said brokenly, "I've never stopped. But I can't live my life just waiting for you to call when you want me. And I won't let you do that to Theo, either. He deserves a father who's around, who puts him as a priority,"

"Oh, and you think he'll have that with Arvin?" he challenged. "I wouldn't be too sure, sweetheart. Those charges really have a way of addin' up. Who knows how long of a sentence he'll be gettin' tomorrow."

You couldn't help but stress at his words. You knew some of what Lee had done before, and you know what he'd be willing to do now, to get his way. If he wanted Arvin put away, there wouldn't be anything you could do to stop it from happening.

You may not have been in love with Arvin, but you did love him. He was your best friend; you don't know what you'd be doing or even where you'd be right now if it weren't for his help and care. He didn't deserve to be punished for your mistakes; you couldn't let that happen.

"Why would you do that?" you asked, hurt lacing your voice. "What do you want from me, Lee?"

"You ain't dumb, honey. You know what I want," he said easily as he rocked Theo lightly while he gripped onto his daddy's finger, his big blue eyes falling closed as he drifted back to his peaceful sleep. Lee's blazing blue orbs met yours once more. "I want you. I want this, all a this with you, and him,” he said, sparing another glance to his baby boy.

“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea. "You can’t - He needs something stable. Real."

Lee assessed you for a moment before shaking his head with a slight scoff and a smirk. "This is real, darlin'. I'll give you both what you deserve. I just need a little time, that's all," he said as he set Theo back down in the basinet before turning back to you. "Can't make you my wife while I'm still married, but I'll get that taken care of quick. Then you and the baby can get settled in at home, we can finally be together. Just like we always talked about," he continued, taking your hands in his and pulling you in. "Havin' a family," he brought his hand up to tilt your face up to his, brushing his lips against yours. And you let him.

"And it'll be good for reelection next year, too. People like a family man."

You cringed and pulled away at that. At least you tried to, Lee's hold not let you get far at all.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. Come on, you know it'll be good for all of us. We can be happy," he said as his knuckles brushed your cheek.

The touch reminded you, "What about Arvin?"

"What about 'im?" he asked uninterested.

"You'll let him go," you state, grabbing his hand.

"I will," he agrees, "soon as you two are all moved in with me, I'll make sure he's released. Can't have you trying to run off on me again. I won't let you go so easy this time."

You swallowed back the cry that wanted to be let free as you looked at him. You hated that Arvin would have to suffer while you wait on Lee to keep his word. But what else can you do.

"How long?" you ask brokenly, eyes drifting over to the crib. "I can't do this alone."

"Won't be long, sweetheart. She's already been on her way out. A week, two tops. And you won't be alone. If you think for a minute I'd ever not be around for my child, you're outta your mind. If I’d a known sooner, I,” he cut himself off with a shake of his head. “I'll come over every night, check on ya both. You need somethin', you tell me. I'll show you I can take care'a you two better than that boy ever could."

Sweet words. Always so sweet coming from his lips. Your heart aches, for a million different reasons, as you let Lee come closer, pressing his lips to yours before his arms find their way around your frame.

And just like that, after nearly a year of not giving in to the temptation to see him, he has you once more, so easily. He gets what he wants. Just like he always does. Like he always will. You wonder briefly if it will ever be enough. You're not sure you want to know the answer.

"You've got no idea how much I've missed you, darlin'," he whispers against your lips. "Thought about you every damn day."

You feel the tears as they slip down your cheeks, a wave of relief falling over you under his touch, but the guilt still remains... It's just not enough to make you stop him. Not enough to want him to stop.

And the hope for your promised happily ever after renews in your heart. Because maybe you’ll finally get it, just how you pictured, with Lee by your side, starting your own little family.. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Lee Bodecker may be a selfish and greedy man.

But maybe you're no better.

#the seven writing event #nickfowlerrr’s writing event #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x plus size!reader #lee bodecker x curvy!reader #lee bodecker angst #dark!lee bodecker #soft!dark lee bodecker #soft dark lee bodecker #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker fic #sebastian stan characters

[genacity]

can i request having sex with virgin!diluc? riding him and making him feel good just praising him and he can barely get a word out bc he feels so good

⌗ diluc riding dirty

cw. dom! gn! reader x sub! virgin! diluc. cock riding lololol, dumbification, praise, unprotected sex, use of “darling”, a little plot before porn, fluff @ the end because i need to write it more often lmao

an. gaww omg i love diluc… also new fic layout for my works LOL i kinda js wanted to try smth new.. anyways hope u like it cause this been on my mind 4 a while </3

the conversation was brief.

half a glass of whiskey down the hatch, many more to come. and already, you sat beside kaeya at the bar in angel’s share, snickering like a drunken lowlife.

“you, diluc ragnvindr, are a virgin?” you snorted, bringing your glass to your lips and drinking down the copper liquid. the rush of the whiskey burned your throat, its tangy aftertaste leaving your tastebuds almost shivering.

diluc grumbled and turned away, his actions making both you and kaeya cackle. “aww, is someone embarrassed?” kaeya giggled, words melted together. you could tell the multiple glasses of alcohol he had succumbed to earlier were taking a toll on him.

you teased poor diluc later into the night, but it only lasted for a few more minutes before kaeya had mentioned something else— something more important than humiliating the redhead in front of all of the visitors at the bar that night.

but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. so, you decided that maybe you could help him solve his little predicament. which is how you ended up here.

“c’mon, let me hear you…” you beckoned to diluc, leaning into his ear, voice barely above a whisper. you had him sprawled onto his own bed, naked, with your hands around his aching cock for the first time in his life. he gasped, bringing a hand up to his mouth the muffle the whimpers and groans he dared to let slip his mouth.

dissatisfied with his ability to listen, you pulled your hand away from his cock and sat up on your knees, shuffling around to straddle the poor man.

diluc looked up through his long lashes, mouth slacked open and eyebrows raised in hunger and disbelief. his stomach twisted into knots. feeling your body hover above his had him whipped.

“you ready?” you cooed, looking down at the gorgeous view. “yes— please, i want it, i want you—” diluc said shyly, a small smile appearing on your face before you pushed yourself down onto his cock.

“fuck!—” diluc sobbed out, his thighs tensing, head thrown back and mouth open. pathetic streams of sobs and whines filled the air, symphonies of pleas and mantras of begging following suit as you slammed yourself down on his dick repetitively.

your head hung low to watch the sight beneath you, your own lips parted to let out breathy pants and satisfied chuckles. “so gorgeous, fuck.. so pretty for me, darling.”

diluc could only whine, the feeling of your hole just too much for him to bare! you worked him so easily, it felt so good— his mind went foggy, all remaining composure slipping from his grasp.

“so good, baby. you’re being so good.” you grinned, putting your hands on his stomach to steady yourself. diluc moaned loudly at the feeling of your touch gracing his body, the ability to string words together completely gone.

“m—mmh! oh, i— i’m— fuck!” diluc sobbed, bringing a quivering hand up to his mouth. but the pleasure, oh the pleasure… it left him helpless, for all he could do is hover his hand over his mouth and just barely cover it. “no no, baby, don’t do that. lemme hear you,” you cooed, pulling his hand away by his wrist, a loud whimper escaping his lips.

diluc’s head began to spin, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his lower abdomen. he opened his mouth to warn you, to tell you he was going to cum, but all that came out were incompressible moans and sobs of pleasure. “y—n!” he stuttered, just barely able to think. “cuh— mm! gon’— haah!”

he was almost there, he was so close— all he could do was chase his high hungrily. diluc bucked his hips up into your ass, eyes squeezed shut, body shaking. this feeling was nothing like he’d ever been used to before. the bubbling grew stronger, threatening to spill over and completely ruin you— ruin him.

“you gonna cum, ‘luc?” you purred, that familiar knot twisting in your stomach as well. diluc nodded, thighs trembling as you rode him out. “go ahead. cum.”

and at your command, diluc could only moan and take your order, waves of pleasure crashing down, spilling inside you. that spark of greed exploding in his stomach, gulping him down and swallowing him up, an almost euphoric feeling taking over his entire body.

you stilled yourself after your high, heavy breaths making your chest heave up and down. you looked down at diluc to see him completely ruined. bangs stuck to his face, long red locks scattering the pillow, long out of their high ponytail. the hair tie was probably on the floor.

“you okay?” you asked. he nodded, smiling softly. you grabbed diluc’s hand and brought his knuckles to your lips, leaving small kisses on his flushed fingers. “you did so well. i’m so proud of you. thank you for letting me do this.”

you lifted yourself off of diluc to put yourself beside him instead, pulling the covers over your bodies. he leaned into your chest, strong arms pulling you in as he quickly melted into your touch. your hands found their way to the back of his head, fingers intertwining with individual locks to wrap them into weak curls before letting them slip into their original wavy state.

diluc sighed and looked up at you, amber eyes glimmering with love as they hung low. even if he was tired, he still needed to say something before he went to sleep. he smiled, snuggling into you before saying something that made your heart sigh.

“i love you, y/n. please, don’t let me go.”

#@ genacity ☆ #@ diluc ☆ #sub diluc #sub genshin #dom reader #sub character #genshin x reader smut #genshin x reader #diluc smut #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc x reader #omg i need to write fluff more often i rlly need it LMAO #ignore my disappearance bro i #DUDE #this was so fun #GET ME OUT OF MY FLOP ERA PLEASE #help mr #IM HONNA CRU #ramble ramble ramble #teehee

[stxneflxwers]

into your heart.

⋯⁂ summary. cuddles on a snowy day bring his heart more peace than the deafening ocean depths can.

⋯⁂ a/n. short and sweet post here; so im not really worried about small grammar errors, word count, formatting, or what have you (yes, again. shhhh) i need to cuddle him !!!! you dont understand!!!!! also this is my 200th post, woo!

⋯⁂ characters. freminet. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. fluff for daysssss. physical affection (cuddles, a cheek kiss). minimal dialogue.

freminet.

you are the most precious gift of all in his life—sometimes he swears you are his true fantasy he's always longed for. pers is a fantastic addition, of course, but to be understood and seen—to be heard—is something he never really knew he needed. he was convinced that all he needed—wanted—was the silence of the depths.

but you surprise him in many ways.

when it snows heavily in fontaine, you'll wrap him up in a big comforter and give him fuzzy socks to slip on—no matter how much he'd like to protest, he relents. he always gives in to your soft pleas. how could he possibly reject you, anyway? you've offered him so much patience and grace all this time...

he watches you light the fireplace, the little flames growing into bigger ones on the hearth—the warm glow of the fire illuminate his face so perfectly. then, you scurry over to him and snuggle up to him under the fluffy, queen-sized comforter. he smiles a little, but still as bashful as ever, his eyes dart away from you.

you snicker and press a deep peck against his plush, freckled cheek. his face immediately blazes as hot as the fire in front of him, turning his gentle features bright red. you mutter something about him being adorable, but he disregards it...for now.

without warning, you pull him in close to you—tugging him into a "forced" cuddle session. (it's hardly forced, he enjoys every second of it regardless of the furious blush and pout on his face.)

you hum while he tentatively rests his head on your chest. he couldn't care less whether your chest was "truly" soft or hard, it's still the warmest, fluffiest pillow he could ever hope for. your hands interlock around his back, keeping him safe and snug—your thumbs rub little circles along his spine, lulling him dangerously close to a quiet, salubrious slumber.

and he wouldn't complain even if he could.

this is all he could ever ask for.

"thank you..."

#🌠— my works #🌠— fluff #💕— freminet #freminet x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

[cookiewarriorexpert]

Memento Vivere, Amongst the Living

Pokèmon! Shapeshifter! Reader x Sagau Genshin Impact characters

(Archons, Traveller! Aether, Paimon, Wanderer, and Neuvillette)

Sum: The first time Creator! Reader stays in a nation for too long

Whether or not it was the nation that was so closely linked to the Pokémon world’s own Kalos region of where Xerneas resided, which took inspiration from [name]’s real life region of France, it did not matter, for [Name] stayed around in Fontaine for a bit too longer than they usually do to other regions to make sure they didn’t favor nations that could make other nations jealous of the fact that a nation had been favored by the Creator of Teyvat.

But the Xerneas form made them almost gravitate to the Nation of Hydro, and while it made Furina both a bit boastful and also kind of terrified since she was aware of how the Creator never stays in a nation for too long, and her pride turned to a bit of concern since she felt like she did something wrong, or maybe the entire nation at that. And thus, Neuvillette, with Furina’s worried and panicked pleas trying to make it out to be just excitedly boastful and unafraid orders, to call in the Traveller, it sort of escalated to a few unhappy archons, floating food, and of course a knight in the shadows to arrive.

All the while, [name] held not even a hint of confusion, the Xerneas form and the aged wisdom the form gave them made them have no fear, except for a little ounce of displeasure upon seeing the dragons. (Fairy biased against Dragon talking-lol)

Of course, Nahida and Wanderer only watched from the sidelines while everyone was discussing and basically theorizing about why would their Grace would stay in Fontaine. Even comically that [name] was only a few meters away and heard everything, more interested in the French-inspired pastries of the hydro nation, satisfied with the more smaller and cake-like pastries that reminded them of the pokepuffs from the Kalos region from the world of Pokémon.

Eventually, things somehow ended up with Neuvillette getting a bit standoffish with Zhongli, since Zhongli was not technically a dragon and Neuvillette was pretty much not happy about Zhongli being around.

Though Paimon quickly got everyone’s attention when she just hovered over the Creator, gravitating to their soothing, gentle, and all knowing aura, and maybe their Grace was the most patient out of their acolytes since everyone stared at Paimon as if she was a toddler or some ill-mannered child boldly trying to touch or mess with some prized antique or respected figure.

[Name] only flicked their ears, their lips curved slightly to an almost amused look as everyone seemed so worked up about Paimon being so close while Paimon seemed to not even care, as if she was just a buzzed little bee having too much pollen and addicted to the sweet allure of a flower.

“You know I could hear your conversation.” [Name] said, a small subtle smile graced their lips, causing a bit of flustered and a bit of embarrassment to stir up in the group of beings of different origins and nations.

And at that point, Furina, trying to pipe up, finally questioned [Name] in a burst of frustration and nervousness, the entire group was a bit in shock except for Nahida and the Wanderer, knowing well that Furina was overcome with pure frustration from the fear of not knowing why the Creator decided to stay longer.

“Okay I’ll bite!! Why are you here?! Was it just me being a fault?!” Questioned the desperate Furina in a bid of at least getting some satisfaction from the Creator’s answer or at least some scrap of sympathy.

[Name] only looked at Furina, a slight twinge from their ears and turning to Furina that the Hydro Archon quickly realized her mistake and began to bow and apologize profusely, now trying to avoid punishment, but [Name] only sigh, knowing well that they were guilty of making Furina and possibly the entire nation afraid.

“Furina, please stand up, I am not here because of a misgivings of anyone from this nation….” [Name] cooed, soothing a bit of Furina’s doubts, Furina quickly stood up, embarrassed and flustered of acting so immature in front of the other archons and the traveler. Paimon only lay down on the antlers of the Xerneas Hybrid as she took a sigh of relaxation, stirring some bit of jealousy that Paimon was not at least told to back off.

“I am here, simply because Fontaine has given me a sense of…. Home, a place of where I felt most comfortable.” [Name] continued, at first, everyone was silent, before Furina began to swell her chest up in pride, her eyes began sparkled, an unexpected speed of change from her anticipation for her Creator’s answer. Not only did this answer from the Creator cast no doubt that Furina’s nation was favored, but also that [Name] was not at all displeased by anything.

“Oh!- oh- Your Grace! -Why haven’t you told me in the first place?! Oh! Did you hear that Neuvillette?! Fontaine is the most favored nation in their Grace’s- oh thank you thank you thank you!!!” Furina squealed like a child hearing their parents approval, Furina was all over the place, her hands everywhere, as she first hugged Neuvillette and squeezing him as hard as she possibly could in a flurry of emotions and mostly pride, Furina quickly rammed into the Creator and hugging them with as much strength, causing a big shock amongst the small audience, but [Name] only smiled at Furina’s excitement.

Most of the Archons were a bit jealous that their Grace had favor for Fontaine rather than their own nations but they were complicit and not really complaining, Ei gave Furina her respect like Furina had won a duel, Nahida congratulating Furina’s achievement, Zhongli gave his respect, and Venti also gave his approval and was currently thinking of a song.

[Name] only watched on, before going back to indulge in some more of Fontaine’s delicious and delectable desserts and pastries.

And with Furina’s surge of pride and her enlarged ego, Furina and Neuvillette had joined [Name]’s little tea party, with the Archons, Aether, Wanderer, and Paimon as well.

Though Aether was a bit relieved that Paimon was asleep so she wouldn’t cause a problem of hoarding most of the pastries.

#genshin sagau #genshin x pokemon #genshin zhongli #genshin x reader #xerneas #Pokémon shapeshifter #furina #neuvilette genshin #Pokémon reader #pokémon xy

[hederasgarden]

Sins of the Father - Part 1

Summary: When the Greens win the Dance of the Dragons, your father must answer for his support of Rhaenyra.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lady!Reader(house unspecified)

W/C: 1.5K

Rating: Mature, 18+ only. AU, forced/arranged marriage and reference to canon level violence. Future chapters will be explicit.

A/N: Thank you fieldandfountain, @truesblue and @whatblogisthis216 for all your help with the first part of this fic. The fantastically talented @writercole created the beautiful graphic!

Likes are lovely but comments and reblogs make my day!

You trail behind your father into the nearly empty Great Hall, flinching when the heavy doors close behind you. King Aegon the second is nowhere to be seen. In his place the Queen Mother sits on the throne, flanked by the Hand of the King and who you assume must be her youngest son, Prince Aemond. Even though he looks half bored he still makes for an intimidating figure, dressed all in black with an eye patch that only partially hides the angry scar that bisects his right eye. You swallow hard, recalling all the nasty rumors you’ve heard about him. Kinslayer was the kindest one you could recall.

A handful of Kingsgaurd members stand at the bottom of the throne and two more follow behind you and your father. You search the room for any familiar figures or other nobles but find none. There are no friendly faces here. When you spot the King's Justice half-hidden behind a pillar, you stumble. Fear lances through your chest, hot and tight, as you consider what his presence means.

“All will be well,” your father promises quietly, offering you his hand.

You grip it tightly and stare straight ahead. The stories your grandmother told you as a girl about her visits to Kings Landing pale in comparison to what you see before you. The iron throne looms large and imposing, the chaotic array of swords terrifying. You have to crane your neck to look at the high ceiling, eyes catching on the beautiful stained glass. Were this any other time you would have been thrilled at the chance to see the capital. Now you feel only dread.

There is no question why the two of you are here today. Your father and brother threw their support behind Rhaenyra in the war and now it was time to face that choice. To beg for mercy like the other lords summoned before your father. The heads of those unsuccessful in their plea were impaled on the spikes that lined the castle’s inner walls. You prayed to the seven that your father would not join them.

“Your Grace,” your father greets, bending deeply at the waist. You follow suit, dropping into a low curtsey and waiting until she bids you rise. “We were expecting to see the King today.”

“My son is busy,” Alicent tells you with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I am here to speak on his behalf.”

“We were summoned by the King,” your father says, a deep frown on his face. “And have traveled far to speak with him.”

“You also pledged your allegiance to the usurper,” the Hand reminds your father.

“The King is merciful though,” Alicent is quick to add, a bland sort of smile on her face. “He understands your family’s ties with House Targaryen go back to before the doom and that your mother was a childhood friend to Aemma. It is understandable you might have been easily led astray.”

Your father remains silent, waiting for Alicent to continue. He told you on the long journey here that he suspected the crown wanted money. There were rumors the war nearly bankrupted the royal coffers. It was a costly war, paid in both blood and gold. Your father is one of the wealthiest lords in Westeros, second only to the Lannisters. It was a logical conclusion and you hoped he was right.

“King Aegon would like to offer you the opportunity to show us you understand the error of your ways and to reaffirm your commitment to his rule.”

“What does his grace have in mind?” Your father asks.

“Marriage between your daughter and Prince Aemond.”

Your lips part in a silent show of surprise but your father’s reaction is more pronounced. His brows draw together and he cuts a quick look at Aemond who stands tall and disinterested beside his mother.

"You cannot possibly expect me to give up my only remaining heir," your father begins, voice incredulous.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the King's Hand jut his chin out and one of the Kingsguard steps forward, hand on the pommel of his greatsword. You glance up at Alicent. She blinks, her face pinched in a sour expression. You think about the heads on Traitor’s Gate and step forward before you’re even cognizant of your own actions.

"Please your grace, you must excuse my father," you begin, resting a hand on his arm. "He grieves still for my brother, his only son, and heir. He fears he will lose me today too, but I can see that is not the case. Prince Aemond is a virtuous man and would treat me well. We are honored you deem us worthy of such a betrothal."

Your father turns to you and stares, surprised. His eyes, the same color as your late brother's, are full of anger. You know he wants to fight this, but you have your mother and sisters back home to think about. Silently, you beg him to understand, to acquiesce. After a long moment, he seems to, clenching his jaw tightly. The fear you see in his expression is a mirror of what you feel in your heart.

"We would be happy to show our loyalty to the crown," your father says finally, clearly unhappy. A second later he lays his hand over yours.

"The King will be pleased to hear this," Alicent replies.

"Of course, there is the matter of a dowry," the Hand says, speaking up finally. "It would need to be fit for a Prince."

You look pleadingly to your father when his hand tightens over yours, a muscle in his cheek jumping. He came ready to part with his coin, not with you. You should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. The crown needs to ensure your father’s loyalty. He is a powerful man and his influence ran deep. With you in King’s Landing, they could be assured of his cooperation. Any children you bore Aemond would inherit your father’s lands and titles after he passed, guaranteeing your house remained bound to the realm.

“The Prince needs only to name his price,” you say when it is clear your father is too angry to speak. When you look at Aemond, you’re startled to find his eye focused solely on you. His expression is blank, making it impossible to determine what he might be thinking.

“How kind to offer me a say,” he says with a smirk.

You drop his intense gaze, inclining your head forward in a show of respect to hide your fear.

“We are but returning the kindness your family has shown us,” you assure him, not daring to raise your eyes from the ground.

“Then the matter is settled,” the Hand says.

“It is,” your father agrees, voice strained.

The situation you’ve found yourself in is a dangerous one and you know the fate of your father and your house rests on your shoulders now. It’s a heavy burden and he looks at you with such a pained expression you feel your throat close up around any words of comfort you might offer. Instead, you squeeze his arm and try to impart whatever reassurance you can. He nods in return, exhaling sharply. Under his fear and worry, you think you see a glimmer of pride.

“The wedding should take place soon,” Alicent says, drawing your attention away from your father as she descends the throne. There’s an unexpected smile on her face when she beckons Aemon to her side.

“As your grace wishes,” you accede.

“In two months' time, all the lords of the kingdom will come to reswear their allegiance to King Aegon. It can happen then. That will allow us to prepare a wedding fit for the King’s brother.”

“That will give me the time needed for the dowry,” your father adds. “We will return in one month's time to make preparations.”

“You misunderstand, my lord,” the Hand begins, “your daughter will remain in King’s Landing. To ensure your continued loyalty.”

“It will give her time to know her betrothed,” Alicent adds with a smile, drawing closer. She places a light hand on your shoulder and looks at your father. “She will be well cared for until you return.”

“A dragon protects what is his,” Aemond says, a flash of movement drawing your eye to the hand that rests on the dagger in his belt.

“Your skills with the blade are legendary, your grace. It warms my father’s heart to know I will be kept so safe.”

“I am sure it warms something.” Aemond stares at your father now, chin lifted in challenge.

Alicent flashes her son a look but Aemond only chuckles, turning on his heel before your father can respond.

♡

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[leeknowsintrusivethots]

A Stray Concubine

| Part 1 | Pairings: Prince!Lee Know/You, Prince!Bangchan/You, RivalNoble!Hyunjin/You? We are all about possibility here. Summary: Entering into a harem choosing was something you have been groomed for since you were young. Your aim is to make Crown Prince Christopher fall at your heels in order to restore your ruined family name and fortune, but games of love are much harder than games of lies and deceit. Content: Angst (is it me if it's not?), slow burn, smut(warnings below the cut), fictional historical universe, dark themes, second person perspective, historical-typical gender roles, imperial harem-inspired concubine system, multi-pov WC: 5119 Minors do not interact. Do not repost my content to other websites. Notes: I'm back to writing again, keyboard slappin' again. Also, I am having trouble figuring out a way to format POV shifts on tumblr that is clean but not intrusive. I am open to suggestions.

Smut Warnings: very brief/very vanilla smut, sex with a stranger, no strings, mentions/illusions of oral, smut is not between leads of the story?(idk, I think some of you might be peeved by that. We do it for the plot.)

You

Powerful was a word that most would not place on a woman. 

Women were meant to be demure and delicate. They were meant to rear children and attend to household affairs as their husbands brought in income and fought in wars where there would be no true victors. It was not a woman's place to meddle in affairs of politics and governance outside of securing marriage alliances for unwanted daughters to bring extra wealth and prestige to the family name. That is simply how the world worked. 

You never questioned it in your childhood. You wore the pretty, colorful silks. You learned to speak eloquently but never out of turn. You played instruments and studied embroidery and other womanly arts. You were exactly what society dictated you be: a pretty face being prepared to be sold off for the honor of your family name. 

It was a single, fateful trip to the capital with your mother and father that had changed not only your perspective but the entire course of your life. Your family name was tarnished and your father was executed by the ruling Bang family for murder and treason. The only thing that had saved you and your mother was the grace of the sex you had been born with and her tears and pleas for mercy. Even as she cried and begged in front of His Majesty, the truths you had known crumbled to dust. 

Your father had been a puzzle piece in a generations long game of chess where the kings and queens played with the lives of others to gain power of their own. He had been a disposable pawn, easily lost to the ages as a traitor whom there would be no songs written about. Everyone knew it, and it didn't take long for you to realize it for yourself. You, even at a young age, looked beyond your mother's pretty tears and prettier words. 

You knew Princess Mai was set to wed the young lord Hwang.

The Hwangs were a powerful family - rivaling your own in terms of wealth and influence. Hwang Hyunjin was the sole heir to his family's fortunes. A marriage alliance with Princess Mai would tip the precarious balance of power to favor the Hwangs more greatly. It would have been a match that would have been detrimental to your own family's power. 

You knew all of this. You also knew the vial of dark purple liquid your mother had hidden under the flowing sleeve of her gown was not nail polish as she had told you. You had watched keenly as she had slipped the liquid into Princess Mai’s goblet as you all supped with the Queen without anyone else the wiser. Your mother's poison had killed the young princess before the physicians could even get through the door. As Queen Bang had cried and screamed for the loss of her child, your mother had secretly smiled. 

She had ruined the Hwang’s grab for more power and gotten rid of a Bang daughter in one fell swoop. She was the chess master, and she had outmaneuvered them all with a pretty face and a pretty smile. You don't know if she foresaw any of the consequences of her actions: the execution of her husband, the ruin of the family businesses, and the loss of your family's prestige.

Your mother had broken the mold. She had held your father under a spell with her looks alone. His station allowed him to take other wives if he chose, but he never did. He allowed her the freedom that many women would never get to taste in this lifetime, and she took it with greed and left him in a grave of her making. 

“Was the power worth it, Mother?” You asked the carriage window that tottered down the street.

Through the pristine glass, the lush landscape was ruined by the image of heavily armed men on horseback. They wore the colors and heraldry of the Bangs, and they patrolled the road to the palace with keen eyes and sharp blades. Their numbers were more than usual as they surveyed the throng of carriages and ladies on horseback that made the journey in an unlikely parade. 

The Selection was the only time that the Kingdom of Miroh would see such an odd assortment of women making their way to the Palace of Kings. It was a rare event, only happening when the Royal family required more women to act as concubines and maids. The needs of the Palace had nobles and commoners alike sending their daughters off for the possibilities of fame and fortune. 

Serving the royals as a maid was an honor that most of the peasantry could only dream of, but even nobles would be pleased if one of their younger daughters could secure a spot in the Royal household. It would ensure that they were at least in the line of sight of the many princes, and the maid staff were compensated fairly for their time along with accommodations and food provided for them. There were certainly worse places for a woman to find herself.

You, however, were not sent by your mother with such plebeian goals. 

It was not comfort you sought, nor was it the possibility of an affair with the princes. You were to aim higher. You were to become one of the women that history scorned for reaching beyond her station. 

Your aim was to ensure that you became Prince Bang's Most Favored. Your mother would accept no less. She wanted the favor, the prestige and wealth that would come along with your rise. It had always been her goal, and it had been fed to you for so long that you weren't even sure how much of it was your own desire over her influence. 

Did you want that level of power?

Did you even care to join the Royal family in such a fashion?

Would you ever even come to care for Prince Bang as more than a chess piece on your own board?

These were questions that you could not answer. You often thought of being a young girl again - ignorant to the world and the affairs of adults. You liked your pretty dresses. You loved running through your family's well maintained gardens with your favored hunting hound on your heels. You loved scrubbing paint off your arms and being scolded by your governess for ruining good gowns after a day of painting lessons. You were innocent then, but that was certainly no longer the case. 

The frivolities of childhood had to be left behind. You were an adult, and you knew more of the world than you cared to. You knew that as a gently bred woman, you would never be more than a broodmare for a rich and powerful man unless you took charge like your mother had so many times before. The consequences could be grave; you could lose your head if you weren't careful, but great queens had never become so by following the status quo. 

As you toiled with emotions far beyond your depth, the King's Gate shadowed your carriage eerily. It was an original part of the palace’s structure, built so solidly that the centuries had done minimal damage to its intricate design. It towered over the road, blocking out the sun with marbled walls inlaid with precious metals and jewels. It was meant to intimidate, and belittle. It was meant to make everyone passing in its shadows feel weak and small in comparison to the glory of the Royal Family. It opened seldomly, and only for whatever family sat the throne at the time. 

Its momentous shadow lasted for what felt like an eternity as the line of carriages trudged along the walls of the palace to a more appropriate entrance for those not of royal blood. You and the other women arriving for the selection were being directed to the same gate used for supply carriages and merchants. It was yet another mind game: being delivered like fine cattle to await the murderous whims of a king. It was a way to ensure all women of the selection knew their place - but you saw things through the lens of your mother. 

The Gate of Kings was the first thing all arrivals to the palace would see by design, but it would never open for them. Instead of intimidation, you saw a challenge to inflame and inspire your heart. You would enter through the Merchant's Gate, but you knew that the Gate of Kings would open for you one day. It was all a matter of what you had to do to make it happen - consequences be damned. 

Prince Minho

Head held high. Feet light and delicate. Body slim and lithe. Features sharp and regal despite station. Gown loose and flowing in bright, ostentatious colors. 

She could be a candidate, Lee Minho thought to himself as he watched the dancers practice. 

The brightly colored fabric of her gown rode up her ankles as she moved, offering the briefest flash of a pale and delicate ankle. It was inappropriate – bordering on scandalous. Had it been even a decade prior, she might have been imprisoned for her lewdness but times were changing. It was a fact of life as set in stone as the changing of seasons: people evolved and people learned. 

Minho liked that concept. He liked the ideas of society shifting and expanding. He liked the change of pace from the monotony, but what he liked even more was the prospect of those daring enough to enact that change. It took an uncommon spirit to go against the masses – to challenge the very knowledge that civilized society was built on. 

As if reading his thoughts, the dancer’s eyes found his and held them. Her's were not the wide eyes of an innocent maid. They were heavily lidded, seductive in their intent.

It was another act of impudence, a daring so strong she probably would be locked in a labor camp if his father witnessed the scene. A woman so open in her sexuality was a threat to the masculinity of the insecure men around her who grasped at whatever shred of power they thought was within their reach. She would be scorned – likely punished by her closest male relative had she acted so with any other man.

Lee Minho was certainly not just any man off the streets of Miroh. He was so much more, and arguably so much worse. A Prince of Miroh could easily have her pretty head taken off for such an insignificant slight against social norms. He hated himself for even thinking about it, but he did. He hated himself even as the dance practice came to a natural end and the dancer approached him carelessly. 

It was a silent exchange – not a single word passing her rouged lips as he took her slim hand in his and led her from the banquet hall. He knew what she wanted. It's what they all wanted. Motivations differed, but the methods never changed. A fun time with a Prince of one of the most powerful nations in the world. He was never one to reject the advances, never had been. 

Lee Minho was many things. He was a Second Prince of Miroh. He was the son of the most powerful man in the kingdom. He was the younger brother of the Crown Prince. He was an intellectual, a graceful fencer, and the official Spare of the Bang family. These were all monikers and titles the public used to describe him, but behind closed doors they sang a different tune. 

He was the shame of the Royal family. He favored arts over swordsmanship. He was an alcoholic who frequented ill reputed pubs and discussed philosophy over ale with criminal scholars. He was a rake who lived at brothels and slept with low class whores. They talked as if they knew him. They spoke as if he sat at their tables and discussed with him personally over hot tea – but they had no idea. 

They knew nothing of the self hatred that coursed through his veins. They knew nothing of the helplessness he felt due to his station. They would never understand the uncontrollable guilt that never failed to find him. 

He was a Prince. He held all the power in the world but that power was wrapped up and presented to him with strings attached ever since he came into the world. He could drink, he could talk and he could sleep his way through the entirety of Miroh but that was as far as his freedom extended. The second he even stepped over the invisible line of what was acceptable, everything could be taken away. 

The change he wanted was within his reach – a delicate treasure that would be so easy to share. Reaching up to break it free for the rest of the world would spell the end of everything he had, but he was not brave enough. He was a coward – a coward hiding behind fancy words and under the colorful skirts of women far more courageous than he. 

His frustrations often manifested in indulgence in the freedoms he was allowed. He would drink, he would dine, and he would fuck in a vain attempt to fill the deepest pits of his tarnished soul. He never wanted it. He had wanted to change it, but his own desires had twisted him. He became the very thing he feared: a powerful man taking advantage of the luxuries given to him without giving anything in return. 

The dancer’s back was pressed against a thin wooden door. Her lithe legs had wrapped around him of their own accord and her hands were threading into his hair and the fabric of his shirt – pulling him deeper into a brief moment where he was not a Prince. He was a normal man without a moral compass, enjoying the pleasures of a woman's body. 

There was no foreplay – no kissing or passionate words. He didn't even get her name before he was pushing her skirts up and sinking his sheathed cock into her cunt. It was not an act of love. It was the act of a desperate fool seeking to forget the world around him. 

And he took. He took the brief reprieve with abandon. The door shook dangerously behind her. Her nails raked him though his shirt hard enough to leave marks. Her moans and whines intermingled with his hushed pants to fill his ears with sensual distraction as her walls squeezed him. 

It was over too fast. The sounds, smells, and feelings of arousal tapering until all that was left was grim reality. Post orgasm clarity was never a good moment sober. Words failed him, and all the truths he ran from distracted him from the beautiful woman who had originally caught his eye. 

“Talia,” she spoke as she adjusted her skirts. 

“Excuse me?” He questioned dumbly. He had put space between them, giving himself a moment of reprieve and allowing her a moment to collect herself. 

“My name: Talia,” she repeated. 

“You're telling me now?” He asked in mild amusement. 

“Figured you might want to know who just made you cum,” she shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Is that any way for a lady to speak?” he asked at her audacity. It was brazen and crass, but he was far from mad about it. Her words had his cock twitching in his pants again.

“M’no Lady. You know as well as me that I'm not gentleborn.”

“Since we're being so frank, relieve me of my curiosity,” he said as he propped himself against an abandoned and dusty desk against the wall opposite of her. He regarded her levelly, but with the easy charisma that he was often praised for. 

“Anything for Second Prince Bang,” she mocked with a quirk of her brows. She never shied away from his stare, never let herself be subdued by the power his titles held. He liked that – a lot. 

“I figured you knew.” He was not surprised in the slightest. His portraits were few and far in between, but it was highly likely the palace staff had informed the dancers one of the princes was watching in on their practice. She made no comment of guilt, so he continued, “What did you want from this entanglement?”

“Other than being able to brag that I fucked a Prince?” She laughed. It was not a malicious laugh, but a genuine one. She also found their exchange amusing. 

“Are you going to join my fanclub?”

“I'll be the leader.”

At her remark, he laughed. It was an honest laugh, one that had him feeling light and free. It was an uncommon feeling for him, one only his brothers had managed to make him feel. He liked this girl, but that's all he ever could do was like her. He was under no illusions that this was just an exchange of banter. She was a passing moment in his life, not a permanent fixture. 

“Were you that pleased?” He asked with a spark in his gut. He made to move from the desk, but she put her hands up in surrender. 

“So pleased, I fear another round would have me fainting.” She let out a sigh as she fanned herself in exaggeration before letting out a snort of derision. “Isn't that what the gentleladies say when their ladybits can't take it anymore?”

“Even noblewomen like to dabble in the fine art of overstimulation,” he smirked back. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Are you avoiding my question?”

“I would never dare,” she hummed with a twinkle showing in her eyes. It was teasing – daring on its own. 

“Then answer.”

“Is that a command, Your Highness?”

“Would you obey if it were?”

His question had her approaching him, a smirk that mirrored his own pulling at her painted lips as the gauzy material of her dress flowed around her slim figure enticingly. When she was directly in front of him, close enough that he could feel her breath against his skin, she sank to her knees before him. Her hands deftly handled the ties of his trousers to pull them down enough to free him. 

“If the Prince commands, I will serve.” Her mouth, hot and wanting, was on him before he could even think of a witty response.

Prince Christopher

As heir apparent of a nation, Christopher Bang was not unaccustomed to worry. He worried about the coming winter and if the provinces had prepared their food stores accordingly. The winters in Miroh could be harsh– deadly even. If the cold didn’t kill the populace, hunger was a certain second contender. If he could help alleviate that in any way: he would. It was his birthright and his duty, and he was nothing if not a man of his station. 

Any indication of increasing hostilities in the Borderlands would have him holed up in his personal offices for weeks on end. He would analyze patterns. He would discern strategies. He would rethink choices in generals. He would make plans to advocate for peace treaties with the neighboring territories. WIthout fail, his efforts would be rebuked by the King and the conflicts would continue unchecked. He never stopped trying. 

The conflicts never turned to all out war. They were simply petty squabbles with centuries long history over dejure land rights. It was almost ingrained as tradition– sons carrying out the same trite battles as a matter of pride over any true cause. Ofcourse, it wasn’t the Kings or Princes that suffered. 

It was the common soldiers with wives and children waiting for their safe return. It was the fishermen who watched warily as flagships came to shore. It was the farmers who worked full days for a meager loaf of bread only to watch their livelihoods be put to the torch in a war they never asked for. It was average people who held no stake nor say in the matters of governance or state. It didn’t matter to them who held the territories they called home. Their lot would stay the same regardless of which Lords called themselves King, but the battles for that title hurt them more than anyone else. 

Christopher knew that. He wanted to change it. He wanted to right historical wrongs and be the King his people needed. Alas, he couldn't. All he could do was worry. 

It wasn't even just grand matters of state that occupied his mind. Smaller, more personal affairs piled on his already overloaded platter of responsibilities. He was the eldest of his family's sons – even in the circles of peasantry that came with its own responsibility. He had to look out for his younger siblings. He had to ensure they played their parts as royal children and kept the family name clean and as prestigious as ever. Some of his brothers made it harder than others. 

Changbin had taken his duties easily as had their younger brothers: Seungmin and Jeongin. They knew their stations and how to conform within the standards that befit them. Felix and Jisung tried, but they were more empathetic. They struggled with their places on the world stage– questioning the morality of their way of life and the responsibilities they held. It wasn't a negative thing, and Christopher could not fault them for it. It was a natural part of being human.

In his youth, it wasn't at all uncommon for his studies and training as heir to lead him down a spiral of questions. He was one of the most powerful men in the world thanks to nothing other than being born a son of the Bang Family. He could make people tremble in fear if he so much as looked at them with ill intent. He held the power of life and death in his hands. How could that possibly be fair? How could he live knowing that he had everything while others had nothing? He was as well aware of the moral quandaries as Jisung and Felix. He would not fault them for floundering – he could not.

The hardest thing – he had learned – was having all the power in the world and still trying to be a decent human. 

The duties and power of royalty were a loaded hand cannon given at whim by an unfair creator. Some men would tremble at the burden, and lay it down without problem. Some would take the power to head and heart, and become a terrible beast whose machinations could ruin entire realms with a single shot. Others –  a very rare few – had the sense and sensibility to know not only how to shoot, but how to aim. 

It was Christopher’s only hope that he ended up in the history books as one of the latter. He would be a good king when the time came. He would care for his people and not let the burden of rule turn him hard and corrupt. He would be the role model his brothers needed. 

But these were simply hopes and dreams. In reality, he was simply one Prince amongst many others. His father still held the crown of governance, and he answered to the King as well as anyone else. 

“You can not simply force him!” Beauty Lee cried out with as much emotion as Christopher had ever seen her express. She was usually so calm, and collected. She was a Beauty of the King’s Harem, but he had learned far too early that even his father could break the cool facade of the Palace women with little effort. 

“And what's to stop me, Woman?” King Bang grunted back with a bite. His voice was not to be forgotten. It was distinct in its unyielding harshness, and it suited his appearance just as well. 

He was a hardened man – a King but a true warrior at heart. He was graying and wrinkling in age, but he was still considered a handsome – even fearsome – man.  Under the wrinkles covering his face and hands were scars from battle. He had seen war, but his age and dress showed he also knew luxury in equal measure. 

“He is your son! You must have an ounce of compassion for your own blood!” Beauty Lee protested. 

“Compassion? Is compassion what he needs, now?” The words were not spoken, but spat in frustration. It was a testament to Beauty Lee’s determination that she did not shirk away from the words. “I'd rather a firm beating to undo all the years of coddling you've put the boy through.”

“Is a mother's love coddling? I shall not deny he is flawed. Heaven knows we all are, but he's grown into a good man with a good heart!” Her voice was calmer, but still burning with resolve. 

The feeling of dread that had been slowly rising in Christopher’s chest engulfed him until he felt bile rising in the back of throat. He knew he had not been summoned to the King’s receiving chambers to simply witness a lover’s quarrel. They were speaking of Second Prince Minho - Beauty Lee’s only son and the Second of the Bang Sons.

Minho wasn’t like his other brothers. He had always been incredibly brave even if outlandish. He broke tradition: galavanting across the world with intellectuals, keeping the company of whores and artists, and never accepting his duties as a Prince of the Royal Family. He had always done what he wanted, and Christopher admired him for it even if it stressed him out to his wits end. 

“A heart our enemies would tear out of his chest and eat for protein. He is soft. Sometimes I question whether he is even my son,” King Bang said viciously. It was a tone that could cut down enemies. I was not a tone to take with a gentlewoman, especially not regarding your own blood.

“You– you can't say such things! He is your true son! I swear it,” Beauty Lee prostrated. 

“Ah, bugger off woman! If I had any true suspicions you would be dead and he would be left to rot in a cell.”

“Please, Your Highness. Minho admires you so much, he just needs time.”

“Time? Had I known you and your welp would be so resource intensive, I would have left you both in the whore house you came from.” King Bang said it as if he were discussing the menu for the upcoming festivities. It was as casual a threat as could be delivered, but it was a threat. 

“Plea–”

“Save your whimpering. There will be no further discussion. Minho will cease his fruitless adventures and settle down here in the palace with a harem befitting his station – or he will be sent to the Borderlands indefinitely.”

“You would send your own son to die in such a way?” Beauty Lee cried. As if suddenly realizing he was present, her wild eyes fell on Christopher. Before he could even register what was happening, she was tugging the sleeve of his shirt in desperation. “My Prince! He is your brother! Minho will die in the Borderlands! You know it.”

“Unhand the Crown Prince, Woman! I have taken heads for less!” King Bang roared amongst her pleas for mercy.  

It was moments like this that Christopher liked to pretend. He was not simply Prince Christopher: he was King Christopher. He held the power. He would never let Beauty Lee be in such distress and he would be content to let Minho live as he saw fit, but those were still dreams. He was but a Prince, and Minho was too. If they wanted to survive for a future, they all had their parts to play. He could not pretend: he had to take action. 

“Father,” Christopher spoke up as Beauty Lee clung to him. “I will take responsibility.”

“For Minho?” King Bang questioned with narrowed eyes. He was always suspicious– always seeing a play even if there was none, and truly Christopher didn’t have one. 

“Yes. I will ensure he settles down into Court Life,” Christopher assured his dad and the bleary-eyed Beauty. She blinked up at him with hope, and even fondness. She always had been kind to him and his brothers. She would sneak them sweets when they were young and practiced at swords and the King forbade it. She was a kind woman – maybe too kind for the world she had been adopted into. “I will make sure he accepts it, and adjusts appropriately.”

“Sometimes, I fear I have raised no sons, but seven bleeding hearts instead,” King Bang sighed. He contemplated for a moment, his eyes flashing between his concubine and his heir with laser focus. If he were looking for something, he seemed to be content with what he found. “I will let you.”

“Oh, Your Majesty. I will be forever grateful. You are good, and just!” Beauty Lee cried as she dropped Christopher’s arm only to bow as low as possible at the foot of the King’s ornate desk chair he occupied. 

“Save your words,” he commanded her. Her words stopped at once at his admonishment. “If Christopher should fail to tame my most wayward son, it will be a statement of his right to rule.”

As he spoke, he stared right into the eyes of Chrisopher. 

The young prince was not surprised. He had spent his entire life jumping through hoops to earn not only his crown, but even a shred of affection from the larger than life figure that he shared blood with. His aptitude had never failed him, but he would never feel safe relying on his father’s love for anything in his life. 

“If I cannot trust my heir to command his own blood, how can I trust him to command the people of an entire kingdom?” the King added. He let the threat hang in the air before turning his attention back to the sniveling Beauty at his feet. “In other words, if he fails: you will ruin two of my sons.”

It was another threat meant for the woman who had borne him a child. 

She was one of his longest lasting concubines. It was rumored that Beauty Lee was the one woman of the harem that held any love from the King, and she had suffered for it. She had been scorned and bullied by the other women of the King’s harem. She had been attacked in countless games of court intrigue. She had outlasted all the attempts to have her ousted from the court and from his favor. 

Christopher could only wonder: how would she survive the biggest threat of them all? 

#stray kids smut #skz ff #skz smut #lee know fanfic #lee know ff #lee minho smut #lee minho fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids fanfic #bangchan smut #lee know x reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan ff #bangchan fanfic #stray kids ff #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fanfic

[julieloves074]

Missing (Conrad Fisher x Y/n)

Summary: Conrad’s rejection to the Deb ball turned out not to be the hardest punch Y/n had to experience this summer, being forced to watch him show up for Belly was much worse

Warnings: swearing, drinking, kissing, sadness, pain, anxiety 

Words: 9.8k

(Not my Gif :))

I knew mom was waiting for this moment since I was a little girl, in a way I was excited for it too, especially considering that I was going to be doing it with one of my best friends. Growing up during the summers next door to the Fisher’s and consequently the Conklins was the best thing that could have happened to me. These summers are my whole life, nothing outside them matters, it’s all a pass by, all the count down to summer.

This year I knew would be different, starting with the fact I was going to be a deb, I knew what the Fisher boys’ thought about the whole ordeal but I also knew how Susannah felt about it so I wasn’t worried. I knew I’d have Belly on my side too because she accepted Susannah’s pleas after a little persuasive work from me. It was a little strange to me because Belly is a year younger (16 years old ) than Jere but I also know Susannah knows how to pull some strings, able to get us to do this together.

The Fisher’s and my home may as well have been intertwined, everyone was always in and out of both, doors always open. This wasn’t just something our mom’s implicated though, my mom would always play with Susannah and Laurel when they came to the house when they were smaller as well, these were the kinds of traditions I wanted when I was older, this one specifically I wanted to upkeep.

We’ve been back in Cousins for three days now and everything has slotted right back into place. “Morning Y/n” Susannah said as I ambled through the back door into their kitchen, bright smile on my face, I searched the room for him. The boy that I had been hopelessly in love with since I can remember, also known as one of my best friends: Conrad Fisher.

“How are you feeling about your book party tomorrow Laur?” I asked turning to the women at the table.

“Well I asked Susannah and your mother not to make a big deal of it, but as always they never listen, so as ready as I can be?” she answered in a questioning manner. I knew what Susannah and my mom were preparing for weeks on the build up to this book release, Laurel deserved something big and exciting after all this stuff with the divorce and Susannah’s race against cancer over the last two year.

The two blonde women were not helping themselves though, Suze and mom sat beside Laurel like giddy little school girls, they’re always like this when they’re together, they forget about the whole world around them. In a way they’re like us kids.

“Well Grace and I thought you deserved it!” Susannah said pointedly before taking another sip of coffee and shooting my mom another few nods.

“What about you honey, are you ready for some Deb shopping today?” Laurel asked, more than ready to change the subject of the conversation, “Belly’s just upstairs getting some last bits ready,” she continues.

“You guys know I can never say no to a shopping trip,” I say, the end coming out high pitched, and the three women laughed along with me, but it was Susannah who never left my sight, she could look into anyone’s soul and figure out everything that’s going on with as much as a simple look.

“Jere and Steven left for work already but Con’s upstairs,” she says with a subtle nod, one side of her lips perked up too, mom and Laurel went back to their conversation so I gave Suze a small smile and she only winked back in response.

I jog up the stairs and hear the Belly shuffle around in her room, but decide to walk past her door, ending up a few doors further, from which behind the strums of a guitar fill my ears. I don’t knock just open the door enough to pop my head in.

“Morning Connie,” I say, his head snaps immediately to me and a smirk appears on half of his face, these half smiles run in their family, his an exact reflection of the one Susannah agave me moments  ago.

“Are you planning on being a flying head or are you gonna come in Y/n?” he says shaking his head, Con hates when you don’t knock on his door, or wait for an answer before coming in, but he should know we’re past that point now.

“You wanna hit up the pier in a bit?” he asks putting the guitar down next to him, he never wanted to play in front of anyone, not even me, but I knew he could play well, so sometimes it made me go mental in my head about the fact that he was so stubborn.

“How about surfing tomorrow morning? I have to go shopping with Bells and the mom’s today,” I say moving my hand up to push his hair out his face, usually he gets a haircut before the summer, never really short but just enough to make it stay out his eyes- I wonder what made him leave it this summer.

“Ah yes for the,” he switched to a posh voice, “Debutante Ball,” he laughed at himself and I pushed him down onto the bed shaking my head.

“It’s really not that funny,” I say, hiding the irritation in my voice, I knew he disliked these things, they were very stuck in the old ways but I explained it to him so many times, it was something nice for the mom’s and also looked pretty damn good on college applications.

“Come on little sheep, you have to admit it’s a little stupid,” he says, lifting his arm for my assistance, I smack it away with a playful huff, his smile widens and he moves the guitar off the bed before grabbing me and pulling me to lie down next to him. His face centimetres away from mine, we’ve been close like this before, in this exact position during many movie nights but the air tasted different now.

“I’m down for tomorrow, as long as you’re still good for the party tonight? Jere’s being dd,” he mused, brushing some hair out of my face, “so we can finally get hammered together!”

“Not sure we’ll wake up for surfing tomorrow,” I shook my head and turned my face away from him, all of a sudden the eye contact too much.

“It’s fine I’ll wake you up and you know it,” the confidence in his voice made the butterflies in my stomach expand. Conrad was a morning person through and through, no matter how much he drinks, how late he goes to bed or more recently (which I hate) how high he gets he will be awake at seven sharp, if not earlier.

“One of your traits that I don’t particularly love,” I muffle and stretched my arms out, letting out a laugh getting comfy on his bed, I could lie here with him like this for days.

“Shut up Y/n/n you love me for it too,” he says confidently once again, and again he wasn’t wrong but I couldn’t give him that satisfaction, so I scoffed and shook my head instead, “So you’re there tonight right? You’re not gonna stay in with the moms and watch Leonardo DiCaprio movies?” he pulled the puppy eyes and tugged at me to look at them, fingers splayed over my cheek.

“Don’t ever attack DiCaprio again,” I point my finger at him as if I was scolding a little child.

“My sincerest apologies, Leo is great, now say you’re coming,” he pushed, I give him another shove and agree. There was no question about it, I was going to go no matter what, I was not about to miss this party plus he was right the last few parties last year we couldn’t drink tigether because we were switching as designated driver, last year Jeremiah found his love of some new drink and drunk even when he was meant to be driving, it drove us insane.

“You know I’m there Fisher,” I say confidently this time, pushing to sit up.

Con grabbed my arm, “You sure you have to go? I’m sure my mom can find you some clothes,” he whined but I just shook my head. Just looking at him made my heart melt, the way I could easily fall into his arms now, confess this feeling, kiss him, if not for…

“Y/N! Get your butt down here right now we’re leaving!!!!” Belly screamed from downstairs. Belly, one of my childhood best friends, the only other girl in our little families, also had a huge, fat crush on Conrad Fisher, from the minute she knew what the word meant, and from before then I assume.

“See you later Sheep,” Con gave me a wave and a smirk before reaching for his guitar.

“Call me sheep one more time Fisher and you can send out new best friend applications,” I said jokingly, brows lifting accusatorily, he lifts his hands up in defence and laughs, I just stick my tongue out at him and head downstairs, when I arrive I painfully tried to think about anything but Belly’s sad face knowing I was with Con again. Part of my tried to not care, I mean what did she expect, we were friends before she was even born, well I was a baby and he was one year old but still.

Shopping took up a lot than even Belly and I anticipated, so by the time we got back the moms decided we should order pizza for dinner knowing that we wanted to go to a party and they had a long list of films to be watched tonight.

Following our normal regime Steven, Jere and Belly set out the table and after dinner me and Con were left to clean up, the moms insisted on helping us but we ushered them away, mainly because this was usually the only time Con and I would have alone. Yet now he wasn’t excited about explaining some new theory or gossiping about something that happened at a party in Boston. Today we walked around the table grabbing plates in silence, tip toeing around each other.

Confusion fused through my skin in my nerves, he was fine earlier, “You want to talk about it?” I asked trying to sound optimistic, staring at him in hopes of meeting his beautiful, ocean eyes- they were never as bright as Jeremiah’s but they were much deeper, like a hidden world at the deepest point in the ocean, I could never get tired of exploring them.

“What?” he asked looking up confused, rushing a hand through his hair, like waking up from some kind of trans.

“You wanna talk about?” I asked again this time more cautiously.

“Nothing to talk about,” this time he’s more defensive, looking back at the table grabbing the last few things and walking over to the dishwasher. I question prodding the subject further, but something tells me I don’t want to know what’s bothering him.

“I’ll finish up here you probably have to get ready,” he puts on a fake stretched out smile, that doesn’t suit him at all, but doesn’t look up from the dishwasher.

“Are you sure? I’m more than happy to help, we always do this together” I express, hoping, praying that he’ll ask me to stay but of course he doesn’t.

“I just want to get to the party, I don’t want to wait,” he mumbles, I don’t pick apart what he means, whether he’s throwing an insult at me taking long to get ready or whether the only thing that can cure his sudden sour mood is a drink. Either way I set myself ten minutes to get ready just in case it was the first thing- I didn’t need to but I want to prove him wrong.

All in all, I was downstairs ready to go before he was, bearing in mind that he came upstairs a few minutes after me. Con didn’t say anything to me after that, he just got behind the wheel offering to drive there since Jere was driving home afterwards. Jere and Steven quickly run to get in the back, Belly and I pace normally to the car. Slowing down even further when we spot the seat in the front, I think we both had an unspoken hope that this situation wouldn’t happen. I meet her hopefully eyes with dread, we pause for a second.

I think to let her sit in the front but a small part of me feels a sting of jealously so I’m about to take a step towards the front seat before my focus is torn away by Con’s voice “Belly get in the front,” he says patting the seat next to him. All of a sudden a sharp shock passes through my heart, to say I’m taken aback was an understatement, I lifted my head, gifted her a smile and got in the back.

I spent the drive awkwardly stuck between listening to two conversations, now I was the one needing a drink. We never usually had this problem, when Con drove to parties I was always in the front because Belly was too young to go with us, this was new and I didn’t like it one bit.

I headed to the drinks table the second we arrived leaving everyone else behind. I tip the shot of vodka down my throat and pour another right after ready for another pulse of burn.

“Slow down girl or you won’t even be able to hit up the dancefloor with us!” Nicole announced pulling me into a quick side hug, followed by Shayla.

“Stop, no because I need to drown everything out,” I say in an exaggerated way.

“Well in that case, I guess we’re all getting blackout drunk tonight,” Shayla said in her beautiful accent that I would never get over, “A sister never leaves a sister behind,” she raised a shot.

“I love you guys- seriously,” I say flashing them with a thankful look, joining my hands in a pretend prayer, then take a shot alongside them. I’ve known these two as long as the kids from our two houses, I keep in contact with them year round and they’re never not ones for a good time, in all fairness every year we become closer. Right now I’m thankful to my mom for forcing me to make friends outside of the Fishers’ and Conklins’.

Just because Conrad was ignoring me doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to have fun tonight. So that’s what I did, we had a few rounds of shots, then made some drinks so we could go dance, after the two hour mark hit I really thought Con was going to look for me so we could have that drink together he really wanted, but nothing. So, we had another round of shots before Shayla asked, “So what’s up? What are we trying to forget?” I just brush it off knowing that Nicole also thought she had something going on with Con.

“I’m trying to forget remember?” I ask lifting another shot and taking it straight, Nicole excuses herself to go to the toilet, Shayla uses this as an opportunity to grab me and rush outside to the back and question me further.

“Is this about Conrad?” the interrogation begins.

“No, he’s just in some kind of mood suddenly and we were meant to be getting hammered tonight so I’m just doing it without him,” I explain.

Shayla swallows down whatever she wants to say next, but then perks up again with a concerned face, how she’s so composed looking after all those drinks I could never tell but I’m sure as hell slurring my words, “You should tell Nicole nothing’s going to happen between them,” she said but that wasn’t what I was expecting, it pulled me to a stop, I blinked a few times to get a clearer look at Shayla.

“I’m in no place to do that,” I argue

“She’s your friend and your guys’ (Fisher’s and yours), families are practically one big family so I think she deserves to know that you like him, and that he definitely likes you back so she won’t have him,” Shayla explains in a hushed tone.

Shayla knew I liked him before I even told her, one weekend when we were fifteen her parents had to go to England for some emergency meeting so Shayla stayed with us for three days, those days we learnt a lot about each other including the fact that she had an eye for Steven Conklin but said she refused to make a move until he got his life a bit more together- and she pried out that I liked Conrad.

“He does not like me back,” I say with finality, “We’ve talked about this, and right about now I’m in need and dire want of another drink so whether you’re coming with me or not-” I say with a cheeky smile and start walking back towards the glass doors.

Shayla rolls her eyes and walks behind me, “Just think about the Nicole thing, we’ll talk about it when you’re sober,” she says before taking a shot, her eye darting to one of the couches in the front room. My eyes follow hers to spot Con and Belly sat really close to each other, sipping their drinks and whispering to each other in the admittedly loud room.

“Is that why you’re so determined he doesn’t like you?” Shayla semi-whispered into my ear, without as much as thinking about it I nod.

“They get closer year by year, I’m losing him like the grains of sand in an hourglass,”

“I forget you become a poet when you’re drunk,”

“I think he likes her back he’s just too…” I search for the word but fail to find it, “Too Conrad to say it,” I express taking a shot

“You guys have always been attached at the hip when we see you though!” she expressed grabbing passionately onto my arm.

“It’s because Belly was never allowed to go out with us,” I point out, “She’s different this year, everything seems different,” I start to ponder everything.

Shayla quickly realises I’m about to give an analogy on growing up and changing so she pushes another shot into my hand and says “You were right tonight is about forgetting!” we twisted our arms around each other and turned to the dance floor, Nicole was gone for quite a while, we assumed she’d gone to hook up with someone.

Taylor Swift’s ‘Better Than Revenge’ comes on and me and Shay decide to scream it at the top of our lungs while gripping onto each other and jumping around the front room, right in front of Con and Belly- not intentionally (but I was glad it happened) rather because that’s where everyone else was dancing.

It wasn’t for another hour and a half of drinking, dancing and belting out songs that we were interrupted by a tall figure, “Hey Y/n can I steal you for a drink,” the figure asks. I don’t need to look up from Shayla to know who it is.

“Uh a bit busy right now, really getting into ‘abcdefu’ by Gayle maybe later,” I shout over the music, exaggerating the ‘fu’ then breaking out into the chorus of the song, it’s a bit uncomfortable singing in front of him because I love his mom so the ‘fuck you and your mom’ line doesn’t sit right with me. Still he doesn’t move away, I try to ignore him but then the song ends and I’m praying for another one I know well enough to where I can use it as an excuse.

Just as if the universe hates me the next song is kind of dead and Shayla says she might pee herself if she doesn’t get to a bathroom right about now. I curse her for it, not quite sure if she was being honest or not.

“Come on let’s grab a drink outside,” he says laying his hand on my arm and pulling me towards the drinks table, I let him pour me some drink before pulling me out to the front, most people sat in the back so it was somewhat peaceful on this side of the house, he sat down on the swing but I stood beside it leaning against the wall.

“Wow not even going to come sit next to me I see how it is,” he says, usually this was the key to make me sit down but drunk Y/n was stubborn as hell, probably more than him, “Ow wow come on what is with you?” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Well I was having a fun time dancing with Shayla and you’ve made me come sit outside in the dead silence,” I comment looking out into the street filled with cars, spotting Jere’s jeep with no problem, still perfectly fine right ahead on the opposite side of the road.

“Thought we were drinking together tonight?” he asks

“Yeah me too,” My voice quick, sassy, snappy

“You’re the one who practically ran out of the car,” he accused turning his whole body my way

“You were ignoring me- and don’t act like you didn’t have company,” I say

“Fucks sake Y/n, you’re being jealous of Belly right now? Seriously?” he laughed and it boiled my skin over again.

“I’m not jealous I was having a good time,” I shrug taking a chug

“It’s her first party, she was hoping for someone who she knows to be there with her at least in the beginning,” he explained running a hand over his forehead, some guilt did flood my brain, I forgot that Belly has always stayed with the moms to the point where she didn’t really know anyone outside the circle. On the other hand in this state I couldn’t be bothered to use my brain- or well couldn’t focus on anything for too long or the fuzz started to ache.

“Come sit down and give me this deserved drink together,” I push off the wall at his words but then Jeremiah bursts through the front door with Belly and Steven in the middle of them, drunk out of his mind.

“There’s cops on the way, we need to get out!” he quickly announced I let out an annoyed huff and went for another chug of my drink, the bottom containing the most alcohol I pulled a face and threw the red cup on the floor. Attempting to stay up while walking down the stairs but failed quickly, Con grabs onto my arm and hooks it around his shoulder- I try to push him off but give up realising I’d rather avoid getting any drunk bruises this early into the summer.

“I think at least you’ve completed our goal- somewhat,” he laughs helping me into the back seat getting in beside me, Steven on my other side. Belly sits with Jere in the front. When we arrive the front room lights are still on but as we walk in we realise that all the moms have fallen asleep on the couch. Everyone’s getting their shoes off and heads upstairs but I head straight to the back doors.

Seeing the beach and ocean felt like a nice idea at two in the morning.

“Where are you going?” Con asks from behind me as I pull open the doors. I turn around and flash him a smile, that’s answer enough, the beach’s been our escape for years, “I’ll go with you,” I hear faintly from behind me as I run towards the beach.

The sand feels amazing under my bare feet so much so that I lift hands widely into the air and scream into the universe “WOOOOOO!” before turning around and running my hands through my hair, the rush of the night waves better than any music, Con laughs watching me.

I fall back onto the sand, sitting comfortably looking up at the sky full of stars, “I love the beach at night, it’s so much better than in the day,” I announce to no one particularly, apart from the fact that Con is right next to me now.

I turn to face him, his gaze at my face is so intense, in this light his eyes seem almost as dark as a blackhole, he brushes some hair out of my face, her fingers lingering there for a moment, I swallow down and look at his lips by accident and back to his eyes, biting into my bottom lip from embarrassment at how oblivious that made me look. His thumb fell down to my lips, he freed my bottom lip from my teeth.

“Conrad,” I whisper into his hand, he closes his eyes and his lips part, he moves forwards slightly to where I can feel his breath on me. I push forwards, nose to nose, breathing heavily, he’s the one to give the final push, bringing his lips to mine.

As if created to do just this my hands rush to his hair. His other hand places hold onto my hip squeezing it comfortably. It feels warm and amazing and comfortable. The butterflies in my stomach freed from their cage for the first time, running wild and free in my stomach, my hands, my lips. He pulls away fast, retracting his hands back to himself, I brush my hair behind my ears and run my hands over my face which was no doubt red as roses.

“Lets head back,” he says getting up, I assume it’s because he doesn’t want to do this drunk, the thought of this happening again makes me more sober, I jump up and follow him. He doesn’t speak, maybe he’s too busy thinking about what the hell just happened. He walks me to my back door and watches as I lock the door before leaving for his own house. As I take off my makeup the smile doesn’t disappear off my face, it does though when I retch before heading to bed, falling asleep in an instant, replaying the last few events over in my mind.

----

The next I wake up to the smell of pancakes, I take a deep breath in through my nose, the sweetness filling my body up whole. As I lay there with my eyes closed smiling, ready for my favourite breakfast a reminder of yesterday comes to me, the same smile clouded my face- for a very different reason though. Last night I kissed Conrad Fisher, last night Conrad Fisher kissed me. It was all like a fever dream.

Pulling my phone off the bedside table I notice the time, it was twenty to ten in the morning, this was late for me. Not that I was expecting there to be some huge love confession as a text from Con but there was nothing, not even a silly ‘good morning’. Maybe he was still asleep, though that would be rare, being a morning bird like myself.

“Y/n! Wake up honey!” I can hear my mom from downstairs.

“I am mom! I’ll be down in a sec!” I reply, brushing the lack of message on my phone and throw on some shorts and a cropped top before rushing down for a warm breakfast.

“This is delicious as always mom, how was the film night?” I asked eagerly hoping she wouldn’t ask me about last night, I hadn’t decided yet what I wanted to tell her.

“It was really good honey, you know I love eating with you but I’ve got to rush off- there’s still some things Susannah and I have to set up for Laurel’s book signing tonight,” she kissed my forehead grabbing the car keys and rushing out the back door through to the garden next door.

After I cleaned up I followed in her steps and made my way to the Fisher’s, which I would have done earlier but again… pancakes.

“Heyyyy Y/n!” Jeremiah shouts up from the pool where him and Belly are throwing around a beach ball “You coming in for a morning swim?” he asks with a grin taking a step towards Belly, my eyes narrowed the tiniest amount but I quickly shook it off.

“No- um I’m actually looking for you brother?” I say in a question tone, Jere’s brows furrow and he looks to Belly who simply shrugs.

“He left early this morning, none of us were even awake yet,” his tone apologetic, I stood there for another moment thinking of whether he’d told me he had anything going on today, I must have zoned out because when I come back into conscious I witness Jere being more touchy than usual with the younger Conklin, hands on her hips and all.

I don’t say anything more, they were clearly lost in some their own little world. Had something happened between last summer and now between these two- because last time I checked the dark haired girl was in deep for the older Fisher brother, I mean I was not about to complain if she decided that Jeremiah was actually the one for her.

Steven had also snook out in the morning according to Laurel, except they knew where he were, he asked Shayla if he could take her to see the sunrise this morning, he’d found an amazing spot near the end of last summer, where you could see the perfect glow of the oranges and yellows as the day began. How Shayla could be bothered to wake up that early especially after all those drinks last night I would never know.

So now it was just Laurel left in the house, I offered to bake something with her while talking about new book releases, it didn’t feel right to leave her all by herself on her day. After that we sat in the front room just talking, it was nice, Laurel and I hasn’t had a time to catch up like this, just the two of us, in a while.

Conrad didn’t come home for hours, to the point where I had to excuse myself and head home to get ready for the event, I offered to stay and get ready with Laurel so that I could catch Con when he’d come in but she said she’d be fine and  that she’d see me at the bookstore. I complied with a smile but let out a sigh of disappointment down my throat.

I put on a new red dress that mom and I found in an “side of the highway” shopping centre in the literal middle of nowhere, I curled my hair and put on some mascara- nothing much, we were in Cousins Beach after all and here everyone walked with surfing, beach wave hair and clear faces sun burned.

Mom came home just in time to get changed and drive us to the event. All of the other kids were already there when we arrived, I said hi to the owner before making spotting Conrad around the corner smiling at something, at first I thought it was at a book he was holding. I started coming up with every possible question about the book I could ask to get a normal conversation flowing- all of a sudden I didn’t know how to talk to one of my best friends.

Then I rounded the corner and saw Belly standing next to him telling something which consisted of her flailing her hands around animatedly, laughing and smiling. I strained my ear only to overhear “No that second song you played me on the guitar earlier was so much better than the other one”. My arms dropped dead at my sides- he played on his guitar for Belly, after refusing to play for me for years.

“Hey Y/n!” A voice called behind me before I could figure out what to say to the people in front of me.

“Hi Austin,” I said tying with all my might to give some enthusiasm, yet I could hear that I was failing miserably. Austin was lovely, black midnight hair, pearly white teeth and a golden smile but there was something about him. The poor boy didn’t seem to get a hint, for the last three summers he’s tried asking me out and I’ve been avoiding him. Not to be mean but I just don’t have it in my heart to wound his. Don’t get me wrong he’s hot and has the personality of an angel with a sprinkle of spice for flavour and adventure but he wasn’t- he wasn’t Conrad.

“How have you been?” he asked reaching out to touch my arm, I pulled away absentmindedly making it look as though I was fixing up my hair.

“I’ve been busy, you know all these extra after school clubs and voluntary events,” I said.

“Yeah you did mention over message back in… what was it… like March,” the point he was making was awkward but the way he said it was exactly the opposite, he was always optimistic and for some reason it was just too much for me. That started him off on a long rant- what he said was a ‘catch-up’ for all the missed texts- which didn’t stop until Susannah tapped a little teaspoon on her glass of champagne. I thanked the gods and Susannah in my head. This was my chance for an escape, so I took it.

“This is to my best friend and another of her wonderful achievements, Laurel you are a wonder so please enjoy this and here’s to your current book and the next one!” she announced picking her glass up, everyone within the small store followed, and everyone drank. I scanned the busy room again, this time to find Conrad sitting on the couch, drink in one hand phone in the other.

Belly, Jere and Steven were trying to pile as many books on Steven’s head as possible so I took this chance too. Sitting down next to Con I looked straight ahead.

“Hey,” I let out after a second of silence.

“Hi,” he said back.

“What were you up to today I came looking for you,” I started giving a second of space for him to say something but nothing came out so I continued “You know for our surfing session,”. He didn’t as much as look up from his phone.

“Hey can I ask you something?” I said into the awkward space between us.

“Shoot,” he murmured.

“I um- don’t know if this is coming out of nowhere or whether I’m totally overthinking this but I was wondering whether um-“ for some unknown reason, which I hated, I couldn’t get my words out with Con today, everything felt thrown of its axis within our little bubble, “Would you wanna be my escort for the Deb ball?” I got the words out quietly turning my whole body to face him.

He looked up startled at my question, “Y/n-”

“I mean I know you said you were never going to one of those but I figured that after we kissed last night that maybe you’d do it for me?” it all fell out of my mouth like vomit.

Conrad’s eyes opened wider, his mouth slightly ajar as if he was just spoiled for an upcoming movie, “We should talk outside,” he murmured getting up, at this I started to worry. The air was getting chilly now and I didn’t bring a jacket, Con was wearing one of his zip-up jackets pulling it closer as we stood in front of the window to the bookstore.

“I’m not going to be your escort to the ball, I said I was never going to go to one of those and I meant it-”

“You went with Nicole last year,” my voice perked up.

“Yeah because my mom forced me, I was the only one who knew the waltz, I’m not being a sheep” he argued somewhat defensively now.

“Ok that’s fine,” I say even though it’s not fine, another insult to my face “I just assumed that because we kissed last night you’d do it for me,”

“I don’t remember that, I was so fucked in the head drunk,” he interrupted

“What-” my brows furrowed in confusion and my throat felt like a desert all of a sudden so I shook my head, trying to clear my memory of the event, “You always remember everything when you drink, you said it yourself,” I challenge

“Well what do you want me to say?- Sorry,” his voice half-bothered looking anywhere but my eyes.

“No, what do you mean- I” I didn’t know what to say to him, my heart felt like it was made out of glass, like it was thrown angrily onto the kitchen floor in the middle of a fight, smashed into pieces so small that they couldn’t even be put back together with the world’s strongest glue.

“It didn’t mean anything, I’m not going to the stupid, sheep deb ball with you, I don’t know what else you want me to say,” he said in a final tone and finally looked at me, his eyes showing no emotion, it made me feel small and stupid. I was never one to foolishly believe in something so quickly and easily, but that kiss last night- I was sure it had meant something.

I couldn’t open my mouth to respond, even if I could I wouldn’t be sure what to say, I just shrunk beneath his gaze until I felt like I was in drowning in the concrete. Con turned around and made his way back inside, through the window I could see him pouring himself a drink and making his way to a hidden away corner of the store.

It wasn’t until he was completely out of my sight that I felt like I could breathe. What had just happened, this had to be a fever dream. Another strong breeze danced by pulling a shiver from my body. I made my way back inside, poured myself a drink and stood in the middle of the store. Everything foreign all of a sudden I didn’t know where to place myself, who to talk to.

Susannah always believed from the moment my mom found out she was pregnant that I was going to be destined for one of her boys, now I’m standing in the middle of the our only book store in town wondering whether she knew how wrong she was, or maybe if this is some cruel obstacle in the road.

----

After that night Con and I didn’t speak to each other very much, he didn’t try to reach out and I didn’t know how to speak to him without feeling a stab of pain and confusion and embarrassment. He’d be normal when our families were together, but there was never a moment when we were alone, if he could feel that’s what was going to happen he would evacuate the situation. It made me feel sick, ugly, like some kind of disease he was scared of catching.

By the time another party came around, literally like three days later I was drinking to my broken heart’s content, so wrapped up in Conrad’s rejection that I gave in and danced with Austin which quickly turned into drinking with Austin and sneaking outside with Austin. I thought he would try to kiss me, we sat on the person’s swing, my legs over his, his one hand on my thigh but he didn’t try.

He talked, about himself and asked questions about me, but I didn’t want to talk so I leaned my body towards his, hands to the back of his neck pulling him towards me like a siren enchanting a sailor but he pulled away. The rejection feeling a little too much like Con’s a few days ago- like salt in a fresh wound, I pulled away, my feet hitting the solid ground, arms on my knees, head in my hands- maybe it was about me.

“Hey, hey, hey-“ Austin said pulling my hands away from my face, moving closer to me, looking right into my eyes, then my lips and back to my eyes, “I want this- I want you, but not like this, not when you’re drunk. I don’t know what’s changed so that you finally gave me some time of day but if it’s just because you’re drunk I don’t want to kiss you like that,” he explained, his thumb soothing my hands.

This made me feel even worse, he was right I was just trying to get someone’s attention, to prove to myself that I wasn’t disgusting, that I could be liked and he was an easy target since he already liked me. Tears started falling down my face, I was embarrassed and hurt and drunk and my period was not helping my hormones, I told Austin I wasn’t feeling well and that I was going to go home. He offered to drive me home, “No you stay and have fun, don’t cut it short on my account,” I argued but he brushed me off, “You and your wellbeing is so much more important to me,” he expressed.

I was convinced I was about to throw up, why did he have to be so nice. I walked through the house looking for Jere, telling him that I was going home, he looked concerned and said he’d take me and come back for the others but I told him I had a way home and he gave me a reassuring smile, the whole time I felt eyes on me, I turned around and there was Con whispering to Belly. It was so loud I practically had to shout to talk to Jere but the thought of his breath on her ear was unpleasant, he wasn’t looking at me, neither was she. My unconscious was trying to torture me too.

The next morning I hoped I could forget about my stupidity from the night before but Austin rocked up at my door with my favourite drink and good muffins, I thanked him and we ate and drank out back near the pool. After this we started talking and hanging out more and more, but every free moment I still had someone else on my mind. When the time came for the dancing lessons for the deb ball I had no other choice, I brushed Fisher out of my mind (that’s a lie- I just tried to ignore the ache) and asked Austin to be my escort that was when he kissed me for the first time and I felt absolutely nothing. I didn’t say a word I just pressed a smile onto my face.

At the first rehearsal I spotted Jere coming in with Belly, that’s when they confirmed my suspicion, while Jere was catching up with Austin, Belly gave me a wrap up of the last few weeks including the steamy make out in the pool. This really made me realise I wasn’t very present in the Fisher household these last few weeks, I distanced from my friends, spent more time with Austin, hiding, pretending.

I gave Jere a nod and a smile he had mentioned to me about these feelings he was having for Belly last year, he said he wasn’t sure what they were and whether he would want to go there but now looking at his smile it was so obvious that he was in love with her.

---

It was the moment that I was dreading, waking up the morning of the ball. Mom was feeling the exact opposite rushing into my room at the ripe time of seven in the morning, I was already awake, the nerves didn’t let me sleep but I just wanted to stay hidden under the covers for the whole day.

“Come on honey, you need to get up, you’ve been waiting for this moment all summer,” she said, I peeked my head from under my covers and a smile spread over her face, she gestured a plate towards me “Your favourite,” she said before I reached out for. As quickly as she came in she was gone again. Usually, mom was pretty good at spotting when something was wrong but she was so wrapped up in Susannah and Laurel this summer that my summer life falling apart slipped passed her like august.

To this day Conrad and I still hadn’t talked properly, we shared small talk and he gave a few weak smile from across the room when the families were together, still seeing him made me ache. I didn’t drive with them to parties, Austin took me, not that I went to very many anymore I couldn’t face seeing Conrad make out with random girls in the corners of the room.

My phone buzzed on my side table, “Good morning bestie, today’s the big day- your white dress ready?” the text message from Belly read, we were still fairly alright, but she never once questioned why I stopped coming over so often, she didn’t make an effort either.

‘You’re making it sound as if we’re getting married,’ I replied shoving a load of pancake into my mouth, the syrup melting some of my distress.

‘Omg true, who knows maybe one day we’ll have a double wedding’ she wrote and then a few seconds later another text came through ‘Actually never mind neither of us want to share a special day like that haha,’ I didn’t answer her back just mulled around in bed for another half hour before finally getting up and packing up everything I needed to take to the Country Club today.

I thought it was silly we had to get there so early, I dressed in something good enough just in time for Austin to text me that he was waiting outside. When we arrived Paige was rushing us around with a rehearsal call out and pointed out who was sat where, Jeremiah never once took his eyes of Belly, at one point she tripped over Shayla’s foot when we were getting into the lines for the dance and the whole room burst into laughter- even Paige broke into something of a smile.

After three hours of this and that she had us gather and sit on the mini stage, Belly came to the sit next to me, Austin on my other side laying his arm around my shoulders, it felt imprisoning, I felt trapped with no way of escape. I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes as Paige started speaking.

“Well um, this has been a time of ups and downs ladies, but I am proud to say that I’ve had somewhat of a pleasant time getting to know each one of you, building on your strengths and turning your weaknesses into something to work on, you’re the best lot I’ve had in a few years” she starts and Belly turns to whisper into my ear.

“Nicole would not be happy to hear that,” she whispered with a giggle, Nicole was doing some workshop thing for her future university this morning so she wouldn’t be here until this evening, but the other older sisters clapped and laughted, I opened my eyes when Paige continued.

“So I say this with honesty, I may never break into huge grins or laughter but this was a pleasure, I will miss you all dearly so make me proud tonight, but most of all make yourself proud, you are all bright young women,” she finished giving us a little clap.

“What about us?!” Jeremiah asked with an appalled expression, this did bring out a small laugh in the Deb organiser.

“Yes Jeremiah how could I forget, you gentlemen have been fairly good partners, apart from the time Jeremiah decided he was tried of ballroom dancing and decided to get to know Alexa,” she gave him the side eye and everyone laughed again, I just felt Austin pull me closer at this. Like vines with pricks wrapping around my throat like a snake.

“Excuse me,” I said louder than I intended and rushed out the room, Austin tried to go after me but I head Jere say “Give her a minute, Belly will go,” before I was out the door.

Only when I was out in the fresh air could I breathe, what was happening to me? I never had problems like this, the feeling of a balloon blowing up slowly in my chest, taking over every edge of space- no space to breathe- and I can’t do anything about it. This build up, until- until. Then nothing.

I rubbed me fists over my eyes taking deep breaths in and out.

“Y/n,” the voice was gentle, and with my eyes closed I could almost pretend it was Conrad, laying a soft touch on my shoulder, my brows furrowed, I hoped it was my mom coming to my rescue but when I opened my eyes with was Shayla stood over me, “Let’s talk, we’ll drive to get coffee come on,” she suggests, tugging gently on my arm.

“We’re not meant to leave the property,” I say back, she brushes me off.

“Y/n you’ve not really been around lately,” her tone pleading and then I couldn’t stop it, the tears dropping, “Oh come on sweetie, I’m here,” she said wrapping her arms around me, running her hands down my hair.

After a few minutes we made it to her car, I rubbed the tears away and started explaining everything starting with the end of that stupid party where everything fell apart. Shayla just listened, exactly what I needed, what I didn’t realise I needed. She gave tips of advice when she felt was right and gave nudges of encouragement too.

By the time we got back to the Country club the girls were already getting ready, some already had their hair done, some their makeup but it was fine because we still had plenty of time. Belly gave me a looking asking ‘are you okay?’ and I just gave her a nod.

After we finished our makeup I did Shayla’s hair, curling up the end of her ponytail, then she twisted and turned mine into a beautiful bun near the nape of my neck. Time flew by before I knew it, soon enough I was changed into my dress and it felt a million miles away from this morning, but at the same time as though I was still laying in bed mere minutes ago.

There was a knock on the door and Paige’s voice came through, “Do you ladies want a group picture in the vanity room? We’re starting in a few minutes,” she communicated. Gigi excitedly opened the door and we had a little photoshoot even convincing to get Paige in a few on a timer.

“Now, let’s go,” she said ushering us out, Shayla and I at the end, she reached for my hand and gave it a tight squeeze, shooting a smile in my direction and giving me a nod.

“You’re beautiful, inside and out,” I whispered.

“You’re amazing too Y/n, now let’s kill this thing,” I nodded and meagre minutes later were stood in a line on the girl’s side of the stage’s wings. Belly’s in front of me, her name about to be called, and all of a sudden a feeling of pride and butterflies fulfils me, I was making my mum proud, and Laurel and Susannah, but most importantly myself, no matter how rough and isolating this summer felt I got through it.

Before I knew it Belly was walking out meeting Jeremiah who didn’t take his eyes off her, it made a piece of my heart melt. Then there was Austin, waiting to meet my eye, he gave me a reassuring smile and nod, I looked away waiting for Paige to announce us.

“Y/n L/n,” she called and then started listing my plans for collage and the charity events I’ve participated in, I walked out, not looking at Austin once, my sight searching for my mom. I spotted her to the left at our table, Susannah right next to her, then there was him. Conrad Fisher. I pleaded with my eyes to look away, even if only to Laurel who sat on the other side of him or to my dad who sat next to Belly’s. Con didn’t meet my eyes he was looking straight at Belly and Jeremiah and that’s when it hit me. It was Belly. It was always going to be Belly.

I was fine until I felt Austin’s tug on my arm, Paige was about to announce Shayla and Steven. After those two we were allowed to just wander around, greet everyone, my mom had a hold on me before I could blink, she had tears in her eyes.

“You’re growing up Y/n/n,” she said in panic, “You’re still my baby though,” she turned to my dad, “Are we getting old Michael, am I getting old?” she overexaggerated.

“No honey you still look fine like wine,” he complimented, I wanted to gag, how they were still so in love I didn’t know. Dad come to Cousins for the last two weeks of summer like he always did after a week trip with his old college buddies, it was nice having him here for again.

“Oh Austin don’t you just look gorgeous too!” mom exclaimed going to give him a hug too, my parents became very fond of Austin very quickly though dad did seem to express some confusion, I had been talking to and about the Fisher boys all year but after a barbeque with Austin and his parents he was sold.

“You’re a good young man Austin, I can’t wait to see your dance now, Jeremiah tried to teach me some of the moves yesterday,” he explained, Austin laughed while my dad tried to impersonate Jeremiah and I visibly face palm.

“Ok, ok, ok my turn to hug my adoptive daughter,” Susannah announced, mom and dad step away and quickly I’m in her embrace smiling into her shoulder, “You look beautiful sweetie, and even though you’re not here with a Fisher boy like I expected,” she paused awkwardly, hanging onto her last few words, “You have a wonderful time, you’ll have to invite Austin and his parents to our last night barbeque tomorrow,” she said excitedly.

“Susannah- I don’t-” I start but she flashes her puppy eyes first to me, then to Austin stood next to me.

“We’ll be there,” he said with a smile and guilty eyes looking to me.

“Fantastic!” Susannah exclaimed before turning to discuss details with my parents. Laurel hugs me then Belly’s dad makes sure to give me some motivational comment, Conrad give me something of a smile and a quick side hug which I don’t have the strength in my arms to reciprocate, when it comes to him I lose all control.

After everyone takes their seats again Austin whispers in my ear “I do love you parents,” he said.

“They love you too, actually they have obsessions with you,” I laugh.

“And now it’s time for a very special dance,” Paige announces over the microphone, everyone turns to her with excitement, “No not the dance where your little girls become young women, the boys have prepared something first,” she says and now everyone seemed even more excited.

The music come on and all the boys make their way onto the dance floor in beat, Shayla and I stand hand in hand, Belly on my other side and we watch, laughing, we were not allowed to see this dance before today, it was meant to be a ‘treat’ for us girls but Jeremiah was so excited that he practically showed us most of the dance moves already. Though now that it was all happening together before our eyes I couldn’t deny that it was actually pretty good.

Conrad’s eyes were stuck on his brother, I wouldn’t call the emotion jealousy but there was something there, he only just broke away to look at his phone, that’s where his sight stayed for the rest of the dance and into the conversation that broke out on our table afterwards. Shayla came rushing to the table saying that we needed to get more photos, which mom and Susannah were more than happy to take, I had some with Belly, then Austin and some of the other girls.

After a few minutes of taking pictures Paige was back on the microphone announcing that the main event was about to begin. The introductory music began to play, every was making their way to their place in lines Belly was stood looking around the whole room, searching.

“Has anyone seen Jeremiah?” She asked, looking desperately at me then Shayla, we both shook our heads, how did we not notice him slip away. Belly awkwardly played around with her glove before facing our table, was she going to sit out of the dance?

That was when it happened, Conrad stood up, it was as if time had stopped, he was making his way towards her, reaching for her hand. I felt the phantom pain in my palm as if it was me he was touching, I tried not to wince at the cold sensation.

Then we’re dancing, Austin’s body heat all over my space but my eyes don’t leave Belly and Conrad. Jeremiah is going to be pissed, as if on command in the corner of my eye I see him walk in, his jaw drops subtly as he watches the same scene unfold in front of him.

Even after the dances finishes they don’t move apart, they’re stood there like the only two people in the world, staring into each other’s eyes. A hand went to my heart, nails digging into my collarbone. It was one thing getting rejected about the dance- since he did say he wasn’t going to do it beforehand, but kissing me and now being here smiling at Belly like she was the only girl he ever had eyes for, after dancing with her felt like animals ripping at my heart, all trying to get a piece, shredding it apart. Why did he ever kiss me? It ruined everything I could have always lived in blissful ignorance.

Susannah always believed from the moment my mom found out she was pregnant that I was going to be destined for one of her boys, and then just a little over a year later when Laurel got pregnant too Suze said that she was also destined for one of her boys. Now I stand here wondering if she could have ever predicted that both the Fisher boys would fall in love with Belly and I would be the one watching, drowning in my own sorrow. Missing him.

After being frequently requested: Part Two

MASTERLIST

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah fisher x you #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty x you #the summer i turned pretty x reader #the summer i turned pretty imagine #tsitp jeremiah #tsitp x reader #tsitp imagine #tsitp fanfic

[iheartxaviersm]

₊˚⊹♡ HIS BEST EFFORTS ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

𐙚 pair : xavier x gn!reader 𐙚 genre : fluff !

𐙚 word count : 678

𐙚 author's note : i'm so sorry if i made any grammatical mistakes! it's been a while since i wrote anything. love and deepspace gave me motivation :)! if you have any criticism, do let me know in the comments or dms (always open <3) | not proofread

𐙚 WARNING : chapter 4 spoilers! (heads up for new players hehe), vents, death

you’ve had a rough day. captain jenna gave you a big mission but you blew your chances at giving your best performance because of your health. if only you had listened to zayne’s orders. not just that, you were also injured during a fight on said mission. it wasn’t too concerning, but you felt careless and stupid at the same time. 

captain jenna didn’t mind your lack of skills this particular day. she knew that with the loss of your grandma and caleb,  it didn’t help your mood at all. “rest is needed to ensure the best outcomes,  don’t push yourself. you should take a day off.” captain jenna assured me, she patted you on the shoulder and wandered to the other sections, to check up on today’s work. 

with that being said, you head home. it was already evening when you arrived at your front doorstep. you reach within your pockets for your keys and it was nowhere to be found. being outside isn’t ideal, the moon shining it’s light more and more as time passed, a gush of wind passed through you sending a chilly feel down your spine. then a familiar voice called you. “looking for these?” xavier says calmly. facing me directly, he leaned in closer. searching within my eyes for signs of distress. “what’s the matter? did you have a rough day?” 

you force yourself a smile to your lips, “nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. can you give me my keys now?” a frown graced xavier’s face as words escaped “what a lie.” you were taken aback at his response, “huh? what do you mean? see? i’m fine.” you convey your best efforts to convince xavier, though it feels like a grimace. 

xavier's hands firmly grasp both my shoulders, his gaze locking onto mine as he confronts me head-on, his voice filled with urgency, “please, don’t lie to me. i can see it in your eyes that you’re not okay. why are you lying to me? you know you can rely on me.” his eyes pleading for you to let him in, to share the burdens of your heart. 

“xavier, let’s get inside first. i need some rest.” you were unable to resist his pleas. xavier nods in understanding, retrieving the keys, he unlocks your lonely home. you drag yourself through the main entrance, each step feeling heavier and heavier. but xavier’s company eases your pain little by little. 

you collapse onto the sofa, exhaustion, and fatigue washing over you. without a word, xavier enters the kitchen and returns moments later with a glass of warm water. he settles down beside you on the sofa, with a gentle hand, repetitively patting your head hoping to give you a bit of comfort. “so, i’m here to listen. tell me everything that has been bothering you.” he says with his gaze that’s filled with warmth and affection. you didn’t even realize it, but tears started streaming down your face. you were engulfed in heart-wrenching sobs.  “xavier, it’s been so hard for me. “ xavier’s heart ached as he witnessed your state, he pulls you into a tight embrace and giving light pats to calm you down. “hey, it’s okay. take deep breaths. i’m here.” he assures. you regulate your breathing, slowly inhaling then exhale. 

“you’ve calmed down. do you still want to talk about it? it’s okay if it’s something that you feel like you don’t want to do.” xavier politely asks, his tone gentle and considerate. you remain in silence, your need of comfort were conveyed through silent gestures, xavier caught on your request and gently lifts you in his arms carrying you bridal style to your bedroom. he puts you down and tucks you into bed. then he settles beside you, his arms greeting you with a warm embrace. it makes you feel at ease, it felt like you were protected and safe in his arms. like all the harm in the world was gone. it soothes your troubled mind. “i’ll never ever leave you, i’ll always protect you from the harm of this world.”

#xavier love and deepspace #xavier #xavier x reader #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #xavier fluff

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 6[*]

A/N: demon!Azriel just rubs me right. Also I’ve had this idea for this chapter for a little under a month by now so I decided to finally put pen to paper!

Warnings: handjob, a bit of oral (m receiving), smut, fingering, mosterfucking, kind of exhibitionism?, blood-drinking

-Part 5- -Part 7-

Azriel nearly groans when he opens his eyes.

He was gifted a few precious hours of sleep, having found the drop itself quite difficult. To a level that even his meticulous breathing cycles found it tiresome to deal with. And now he’s awake again, and his trouble is right before him.

You’re lying neatly on your stomach, blankets pooled around your waist while your arms hug the plump pillow beneath you. Your eyelids are slightly puffy from sleep, your lips smooth and—

The need thrums beneath his skin, instincts roaring at him to flip you on your back and slam inside, rut into you to relieve the incessant itch beneath his skin. You’re the bane of his existence in that moment. The perfect image of taunting purity, robed in white—he’d found it humorous at the time of giving them to you, knowing how quickly you’d be defiled—features peaceful, breathing even and deep.

He has to steady himself when you shift, sending a wave of your scent over to him. He wonders for a moment what you’re dreaming about; you seem like someone who dreams.

He hadn’t shifted last night. Had worried the need would be too unbearable—his instincts becoming a screaming tangle of curses and pleas inside his head, far too loud for him to manage sleep. Even if he knows you like it when he does. Which is vaguely amusing.

You act so prim and proper in almost every way. Even when he’s been inside of you, drawing those unholy sounds from your throat… And yet you seem to enjoy him the more dæmonic he is. He’ll often wake to find you curled against his side, back pressing into him with a pillow clutched to your front, between your thighs. It’s possibly the most unguarded you’ve been around him.

It’s as if his thoughts summon you awake, eyes peeking open, almost instantly latching onto his own. As if sensing that silent bond between you—even if, as a human, there’s no way for you to know.

“Hungry, Azriel?”

He growls low in his throat as he snaps his talons back in—having protruded while he was thinking about you, about your heat: being inside it, lapping over it, coming on it. He wants your mouth on him.

He needs to feel that pleasure.

You watch him quietly. On edge.

His eyes are fully black, which isn’t usually a good sign. And you would never admit it to him, but the dream you’d had was one of your more…lewd ones. That may or may not have involved him in some manner. Maybe concerning your shared trip to that river about a week ago. How he’d…

His nostrils flare, body stiffening, canines twitching, as if debating sliding out further but being kept in. You force yourself to swallow; calm yourself. “I am. What’s for breakfast today?”

Azriel’s blacked-out eyes stay locked on you as he rolls onto his front with beastly grace, muscles rippling with the smooth movement. This time, it’s you who tenses up. He prowls forward, and you have enough sense to keep still. You feel like any sort of movement will send him into fluid motion—whatever that motion is.

You stiffen, heart rate spiking, as his hand lands on your shoulder, ordering you to roll over. You silently debate disobeying him, pushing to keep still—you shouldn’t allow him to push you around like this. But when he gives another gentle wave of pressure, that’s firm enough you don’t think it wise, you follow him.

His hand goes with you as you’re turned onto your back; you suddenly feel cold on your front.

“Azriel?” You murmur, attempting to keep your voice level.

It’s as if his eyes have somehow become darker. They’re piercing into you, moving to be atop your body and traitorous heat starts gathering in your lower belly. He’s moving with that lethal grace of his, caging you in as he lowers himself to your neck and you’re certain he can hear your heart pounding.

Your breath hitches as he noses at your throat, scenting you. You wring your fingers together across your waist nervously as he takes you in, his heat practically melting into you.

His grip tightens on you, and you inhale sharply as his tongue presses against the side of your neck, dragging upwards slowly—so slowly. It’s lazy—leisurely. He’s taking his time…

No.

He’s savouring you.

When his canines scrape over your throat, your hands twitch, considering the merits of pushing him away. But he nudges your legs apart, and you flush, heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Azriel…” Something like a rough purr sounds, reverberating into you—deep and raw.

“Azriel…” you repeat, setting your hands on his upper arms. “Azriel, stop.” He growls slowly, barely raising his head as he opens his mouth over your neck, canines beginning to press in against the soft skin.

You try to squirm away, hands now pushing against his chest but he doesn’t budge. You begin to panic. You don’t know how dæmons work, whether they truly thrive off sin—maybe he needs this from you? Your teeth find your lower lip and you turn it over in your mind. Maybe if you give him a bit, it’ll help relieve some of the strain. You don’t think the gods will be angry if it’s done out of a will to help.

So you relax, arms snaking over his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair and he groans, his hips rolling into your own.

“Just a little,” you murmur. “You can have a little…just to help.”

He snarls at the permission, arms wrapping beneath your waist, forcing you to arch into him, head falling back on the bed as you bare your throat—eyes wide at the abrupt movement. Then he’s biting, marking you with the print of his teeth, nipping and sucking. His hips buck against you, and you can feel him pawing at your night robe, shoving it out of the way and—

You gasp as you feel him against your bare heat, the hard length of him rubbing against your slick.

You shove away from him, trying to scramble back, but he snarls, lips curling back from his fangs. “Azriel,” you plead, “stop it. I don’t want this. Please, stop…” He doesn’t.

Instead he pulls back, forcing your legs apart as he slots himself between them, the tip of his cock pressing into the soft dip between your thighs. Fear pours through your blood as he prepares to push in.

You don’t let him, shoving your hand between your bodies, gripping him tightly.

He gasps, eyes widening as he stares at you. You’ve never taken him so tremendously by surprise before. He’s off kilter.

You shuffle away, shoving at his shoulder but keeping your hand wrapped around him, until you’re both on your knees before one another. He growls, beginning to reach for you but you shift your hand and he inhales deeply, gaze remaining on yours.

And suddenly you have power. Suddenly, you’re in control. And it feels good. Is this what he feels like? This heady, crackling undercurrent of untapped energy?

“Show me,” you stammer. “Show me what to do.”

His skin is buzzing with lightening. Thrumming with an incessant pull.

You’ve got your hand around him. You’re touching him. You’re doing the initiating. He wonders if this is what it’s felt like for you whenever he’s started. But you’re still human, so maybe those senses are blocked off.

“I’ve never…”

You’re saying something, but he’s finding it difficult to focus.

“I’ve never really…helped, before. Not like this…”

Your heart is thumping in your chest, arousal coalescing between your thighs. He can scent how wet you are, how easy it would be to slide home. Settle into his nest.

“So tell me what you like,” he hears you stammer, “and I’ll do my best.”

A low growl sounds, and he realises it’s come from him. He hastily tucks his claws away, sealing them beneath the knuckles of his skin as he settles his hand over your smaller one. Much smaller. You struggle to grasp him.

His mind is going blank—relaying over and over that your hand is atop him.

He’s struggling to keep his composure beneath the humming pleasure.

“Azriel?” You manage, nervously.

He might be furious with you for taking such liberties. Maybe you should release him… But then you’d be giving up the power you’ve suddenly found over him.

Hesitantly, you squeeze him tighter, dragging your hand up until you’re grasping below his tip. Something milky looking has beaded at his slit, and you swipe the pad of your thumb over it. The creamy coloured liquid smears, and he hisses, trembling. You repeat the action, lowering your hand before raising up to his head again.

His eyes are still black as pitch, but colour is flushing his cheeks, breathing deeply as he begins guiding you. His gaze remains latched on yours the entire time. Up and down, down and up. Over and over. He squeezes, encouraging you to hold him brutally…what you would have thought was painfully. But he keeps going, and you’re too nervous—enraptured to stop. The twist of his wrist, how his hand fits around the length of him perfectly, the milky sheen at his tip. You wonder what it tastes like.

A heady flush warms your body, a kick of desire so strong that, for a second, you want to push him on the mattress and take him in your mouth. Like he’s done for you. Maybe it’s his own way of showing affection… Making you feel good in a way he knows will satisfy you. The thought hadn’t occurred to you before. You’ll ask about that, later. Maybe.

Azriel growls low in his throat, twitching beneath your soft palm. He’s panting, blood heating steadily as he gets closer and closer. Quicker than he would have liked, quicker than usual, but you feel so good. And you initiated. You wanted him. It would be enough to catalyse any male’s release.

He’s so close now. Just a bit more…

You know he’s near. You don’t know how, but you can sense it. Sense that edge rising up to greet him. His eyes are closed in pleasure, having fluttered shut moments ago. So he can’t see you. The thoughts flashing through your mind as you again peer at that slit in his head, licking your lips. Maybe just a bit. If it really is how he shows affections, then possibly… You don’t let yourself doubt. You lean downward, continuing with the movements.

Parting your lips ever so slightly, you press them just beneath the head of his cock. A strangled sound comes from his throat, and you can feel his eyes on you. But he twitches again, which must mean he likes it. When your tongue flicks out over his slit, he releases a snarl in warning. One that—were you his kind—you would have understood. But you’re painfully human before him, and don’t understand, delivering tentative laps to his head as he releases.

You squeeze your eyes shut, features heating with embarrassment and… You shiver, aching between your legs. You can feel exactly where the creamy liquid has landed, spurting onto you, dripping slowly over the crest of your cheeks. You bite your lip against the urge to moan, tucking the desire deep inside of you.

Pulling away, you manage to slip your hand out from beneath his. He’s still panting. Staring at you. The whites of his eyes visible. You probably look…You won’t finish that thought for him. But as you meet his gaze, you see the familiar hunger, the need to have you, and something flutters deep in your belly.

Your hand raises gingerly to where his come is dampening your cheek, finger catching it on their pads as you pull away to look at it. Slightly shimmery, milky in its colour, still hot. Your eyes flick to his as he watches you keenly, strain evident in his jaw as he hold himself back from…whatever wicked intentions he has. You don’t think about much else, only his release on the pads of your fingertips as you peer at him with stark curiosity.

“Is it…can I eat it?”

His head goes quiet, arousal thrumming like a war drum in his blood, singing at your words. He manages nothing more than a nod. He’s not one to pray to the gods, he knows they don’t listen to creatures like him, but if he were any other being, he thinks he may have fallen to his knees at the nearest temple.

You raise your fingers to your mouth. Tasting him.

He can do nothing besides watch. Totally bewitched. Enraptured and enchanted so thoroughly he questions your mortality. You hesitate, then scoop more from your cheeks, steadily cleansing yourself as you deposit each drop in your mouth, eyes closing shut in concentration, trying to mark his flavour.

It’s only when you lean forward, making to wrap your mouth around him that he’s spurred into action, gripping you gently by the shoulders as you peer up at him nervously. “Can I not…Do you not want me to?”

Gods damn him he wants you to. Wants it badly. So badly, but—

“Rest.” The word is rough, and surprises even him. “Go have breakfast. We’re going out.”

————

Had you done something wrong?

You would have expected him to want more…unless he didn’t enjoy it. For some reason, the thought doesn’t sit well with you. You should ask him, but how would one even go about prying like that…?

You sigh, and instead focus on your surroundings. It would be a waste not to seize the moment, especially when he seems to have actually attempted to do something for you. Something nice.

A cool summer breeze swishes through your hair, playing with the wisps that have escaped their binds, floating on the slow wind. The sun beats down on the rolling grassland, earth warm beneath your thin soled shoes, tempting you to remove them—as unkempt and errant as it would be. Despite your time with him, the experiences he’s served to you whether aware of it or not, you still have a modicum of womanly restraint within, and will not yield to the hedonistic ways of those religious zealots who claim the god’s favour. As much as you wish to run bare-footed, unbind your hair, frolic in the summer’s sun. Even if you’re burning with desire to leap and soar. Even if you know he would have no complaints. It’s not like he’s ever shown appreciation for human customs—quite the opposite. They seem to be nothing more than puerile hindrance.

A surge of wind crests through the knee-high grass, making your light cotton skirts billow in the breeze, whipping at your hair again, tugging more of it free.

In the near-distance you can make out a forrest, trees bedecked with luscious green leaves, ranging from the lightest sea-foam green, to the deepest tyrian purple, to the reddest of burnt paprika. Carried on the breeze is the twittering of bird-song, the tweeting and whistling of those melodic voices that coast along the feathery clouds. Near the tops of the trees you can make out how some of the green leaves are already fading to raw sienna, readily yielding to the crisp touches of autumn.

From the crest of the hillock you peer down the side that’s bathed in buttery sunlight, lush moss coating the outcroppings of rock that would normally be dangerous to bare-footed folk. At the base of the small hill you can spot a splattering of colour—wild blues that border on indigo, blossoms that are too smooth a blend of orange and red, like bursts of vermillion, small buttercups dotting between shoots of pale yellow and purest magenta.

The breath steals from your lungs as you take in the sheer beauty of the scape, noticing the brook that winds its way down the hillside, babbling with the breeze in a flurry of words your human ears can’t yet decipher. The sun has long since seeped into the very marrow of your bones, warming you as if you’re bathing in a heated pool of gilded water.

“This is…” How would you even begin? You’ve never seen a sight like this, too accustomed to the burning sting of dust and the drying-out crust of sand as it whips and nicks at exposed skin. A landscape like this…it makes you breathless. Deprives you of words and thought. Just the billowing clouds dancing over the grassland, temperate and perfectly lovely.

“I couldn’t in my wildest dreams create a place like this…” you manage hoarsely. You turn to look up at him, “are we even in the human realm, or is this place blessed with divinity?” His eyes narrow at you, “if you’re asking whether or not we’re permitted to be here…” Your throat closes up. “I was not asking that. I did not think even one of you would dare set foot on holy grounds.” He rolls his eyes, and you stiffen. “Would you…?”

This time he snorts, descending the slope of the hill, moving toward its base.

“Azriel?” You ask, but he keeps to his fluid movement. “Azriel!” You repeat shakily, stumbling after him until you reach his side and step in front of him—not your wisest choice. But all he gives you is a rueful little smile, and vanishes—to appear behind you. He continues walking even as you twirl on your feet. You’re rooted to the spot. You can’t be here. You’re mortal, and if these truly are the holy grounds, then…

“Take me back.”

He smiles to himself internally before turning, features neutral as he takes in your stand of defiance. “Take me back right now.” Again, he offers that smarmy, little grin, “I didn’t say we were in your so-called holy lands.”

“Azriel,” you murmur, eyes wide with sincere fear, voice lowering, “tell me you would not.”

You sound desperate, as if it would be such an awful thing for a mortal to enter the ‘blessed lands’ of the gods, he thinks. “Your soul will not be forsaken, despite what your tampered-with scriptures proclaim,” he replies smoothly, watching keenly. You pause, then “that’s not what I asked.” He bites back a smile at your misplaced terror. Oh, how he would delight in taunting you further! How many ways could he deceive you with your limited and mostly incorrect knowledge of the gods? How he will laugh when you begin to discover their truths.

Instead he speaks calmly, if a bit coldly, “you are indeed in the mortal-labeled holy lands. But as I have already said, your soul will not be forsaken nor damned, nor will you rot alongside the Underking. As much as your liar- priests and priestess’ love to profess it as truth.” Your eyes widen at his bold claims, the brazen statements he’s making. “You understand the severity of heathenism, don’t you? To make claims such as yours…to make assertions like that will damn you to hell.”

He doesn’t remind you of your belief that he’s forced you to reside with him in hell. That would cause too many questions, and he quite likes knowing you won’t try to escape, if only for fear of what lies beyond the castle floor which he holds you in.

So he simply laughs at your fear-spurred actions. How many joys have you refused because of your misplaced faith? Never mind that, you’ll have plenty of time to live out whatever joys you wish to indulge in. You have a long life with him. He doesn’t dare consider potential complications with the Ritual.

“Your false scriptures claim that should a mortal man set foot on sacred lands, he will be struck down where he stands.” His eyes flick to the clear skies, not a thunder cloud in sight, “I see you’re still standing. By logic, they must be untruths.”

Your lips purse, but you remain rooted to the ground, refusing to take another step. Good.

His lips lift in a feral grin as he stalks toward you until you’re cast in shadow, wings flaring, “you refuse to move forward?” He asks, eyes gleaming with sinister promise. Just aching to rip into you, you think. But he is his own kind, and has been designed to lure humans like you to break the laws of your religion, to seduce you into failure and destruction, brought about by the hubristic nature of mankind. The kind you refuse to bow to. Even if he can shred you apart, you will trust in your gods—they have never failed you.

They’d never failed you until that night you’d been dumped in the forrest, bound and left for the beasts to fight over.

Then again when you’d been stolen.

Then again when you’d been dumped in that frozen wasteland, a new side of Hell.

Maybe they have abandoned you. Maybe you were supposed to die that night, yet he’d come swiftly in their place to fill the void the holy creatures had left when they deemed your time to be up.

But those are sweeping assumptions you’re jumping to. Maybe this is their way of testing you, to see if you’re worthy of those Elysian Fields, where only the bravest and noblest of souls may rest. A step above Heaven.

There must be a step below Hell, too.

The thought doesn’t sit well with you.

“I will not be coerced into failing my gods,” you reply firmly, planting yourself stably into the grassland, “I trust in their power, and their words. If they told me to leave my homeland and travel, I would follow obediently, without question or hesitation.”

“And what if one told you to obey me?” He asks mildly, teeth flashing in an animalistic grin that sets your hairs raising. He’s pleased when you falter on your self-righteous proclamations. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“Humour me.”

Your brows narrow as you peer up at him, arms folding over the front of your creamy coloured dress. What trick is he up to now? “I don’t think you know the meaning of the word,” you shoot back instead. Unsettlingly, you think his lips twitch in a smile. Unsettling indeed.

He looks down on you in that judgemental way of his—like he knows every thought that passes through your mind. It doesn’t make you laugh as you had expected. Instead, a strange sense of unease floats across your chest. You wouldn’t like if he could just peer inside of you. But you know so little about his kind’s powers.

“So you would disobey your oh-so-dear gods if their requests did not align with your own sense of right and wrong?” He asks, amusement dancing in his charcoal gaze. Charcoal—not hazel. “They wouldn’t do that,” you repeat again.

He merely shakes his head, “you are blinded by your misguided faith.”

“That misguided faith as you so brazenly call it is what will separate us in the afterlife, Azriel.”

He laughs. It’s cold and heartless. “And what have I done to make you believe I deserve those silver flames? What makes you believe death will claim me—or any of my kind?” He questions, something honed and merciless glittering in his eyes. “You are what you are. Death will claim all of us. Only the Mother is beyond its cold clutches. Even gods yield before that carver’s scythe.”

Darkness writhes around him, a stain marring the beautiful landscape. A smudge of evil amongst this sacred nest of divinity. A wolf in a children’s nursery.

“Careful,” he warns, smiling vaguely, “you’re starting to sound like one of those heathens you so despise.”

“My words are not an affront to the deities. I recite what is written in our holy books,” you defend, even if a shiver spider walks down your spine at his accusation. Men had been turned to candle-wicks for less. “You speak of the death of a god. Such a thing is not taken lightly.”

“Is that a drop of reverence I detect? I thought you had a particular distain for those divine beings,” you reply, staring up a him with half-wild eyes. You will not be pushed from your faith. You will not waiver or tremble.

“I find myself quite close with one of those divine beings,” he drawls, watching as you flinch, trying to sort whether he’s telling a truth or attempting to deceive you, “and I do not think he would be pleased to hear someone—a mortal, no less—discussing his eventual ending.”

Your blood runs cold beneath the blazing sun, leaving a sense of nothingness in the absence of your life’s heat. “I don’t believe you.” But even to your ears it lacks the bite it needs. The unyielding conviction you had spoken with before.

But instead of pouncing on the obvious soft spot, he takes a different approach, returning to the conversation that had started the heated debate. “Your belief aside, you think I would put you in a position of danger? You seem to be in possession of a somewhat sound mind. You should understand I do not wish to have a corpse for a bride. Or a wife. Even I could not reach you once you passed over. I believe you would make a rather dull accomplice.”

The chill deepens, but you raise your chin, staring him down. “I will not take another step. These are sacred lands not yet meant for me.”

It seems to be the answer he was waiting for.

He grins, an animalistic flash of teeth and fangs and then he—vanishes.

You feel the shift deep within your bones. Somehow the veil between your beings has thinned—maybe the holy grounds play a hand in it. Either way, you’re caught off guard as his snout shoves beneath your legs, making them buckle as you’re tossed high into the summer’s air, enough to make you breathless.

And then you’re plummeting back down, landing atop a powerful back, corded with beastly muscle that shifts and ripples with languid grace as his wings snap open, flaring as he moves to shoot high into the heavens, you still seated atop him.

“Azriel!” You gasp, enough sense about you to dig your hands into the thick fur at the meeting point of the tip of his spine with the slope of his nape with the broad width of his shoulders. And the very breath whooshes from your lungs as you’re launched high into the blue as those great wings snap downward, capturing the wind beneath them as you soar to the clouds.

You grip tight, hauling your body flat against him as the wind beats at you, accompanied by the thunderous booming of his wings as they propel him higher and higher—

Those are clouds he’s coasting. Clouds he’s surfing up and over and around. He reaches the base of one, spiralling upward in a tight circle, cutting at its edge as he flies, soars further and further and then he’s at its peak. A wide expanse of pale blue lies before you and your stomach lurches as he begins the deadly plummet.

“Azriel!” You scream, words snatched away by the wind as his wings tuck in. Your heart rate spikes, thundering like an echo of the leathery beat that had pulled you so far from the safety of land and earth. Blood rushes in your ears, pounding through your body with wild intent and he plunges.

The earth is so small beneath you, and you’re unable to pick out the hill you came from as he dives—mostly because you refuse to look. Your eyes would probably tear up anyway. Then you become aware of the weakness of the wind, how the cold is no longer biting at the skin of your calves, catching in the pools of your dress. But he’s dropping—you can feel it in the spasming of your thighs as the end rushes up to greet you.

You clutch tighter to him, nestling into the heat of his silky fur and you pray. Pray to every god you know. To the Mother, to your parents, to the king, to every force you have comprehension of that he’ll pull up.

Blood pounds and you feel yourself losing grip. Silver lines your eyes as you’re dragged down through the atmosphere—a millstone dropped into the ocean of skies, plummeting, sinking, dragging you to its depths. You’ll splatter. Faced with your own mortality.

“Pull up,” you mutter under your breath, not even a whisper. Your stomach spasms with the plunge, the effort of keeping yourself intact. “Pull up,” you beg quietly, hands trembling as you fall, the hill coming into sight—the mossy outcroppings, the splatter of wildflowers, the babble of the brook. “PULL UP!” You scream at him, tugging at his fur because one more second and it’ll be too late.

His wings snap open, catching the wind beneath them, leathery skin going taut but holding. You’re jerked on his back, grip being shaken free, and you lurch, as if about to be sent careening from his back to plummet the rest of the way. But shadows snake over your thighs, hug your waist, fastening you to him as he evens out, shooting across the grassy flatlands as he coasts the green sea.

He’s so close to the ground; you’re certain should he wish it, his talons could till the earth. He’s going so fast, hurtling through the open fields, moving with lethal motion, propelled forward by the powerful, beating muscle that binds his wings. Colour blurs by as you pass over dotted patches of wildflowers, leaving only gusts of wind in your wake, crystal-like water spraying to a fine mist as he shoots across a stream.

A laugh—young and wild and reckless—bursts from your throat. His shadows wrap slightly tighter as your grip loosens on him, allowing you to sit upright—that shield that he’s put in place blocking you from the air that would surely knock you clean from his back.

The caged woman inside of you breaks free, tasting the wind and the air and seeing the vivid whirls of colour, smelling the freshness of green grass, the crispness to the summer breeze, edged with the floral sweetness of wildflowers and the earthy tones of the forrest. Everything around you is alive, humming with unspoken life, moving to that unheard melody that keeps the harmony in nature.

You want to bathe in it. To unbind your hair, tear your shoes from your feet and throw your arms to the wind. You want to dance through the clouds as he does, want to shred the dress from your body if only so the essence of the world can fill you up, to shower your senses in the force of nature. Feel the heated grass between your toes, rinse your skin in the crisp and clear water from the spring, roll down the grassy slopes and sleep in the wildflowers.

You sit upright, and raise your hands from his fur, letting the weightless spiralling feeling grip your soul, feeling the billowing air breezing by. Joyous laughter spills from your lips, bright and sun-filled as you allow yourself to forget—just for a moment—about the world you come from. Forget about being a proper woman, forget about duties of piety, of obligations to honour your household. Instead, you exist. You are. You be. It’s wondrous.

More, more, more—

His wings flare, pulling him to a glide downwards, flapping as he lands smoothly on the grassland, not too far from your take-off point.

What?

“What are you doing?” You ask breathlessly. “Why are you stopping? Go again,” you push, but he remains grounded. “Azriel?” You question pleadingly. You want to go again. To soar higher and higher until the air is stolen from your lungs. To make the drop again and again. To feel the lurch of the world beneath you. To have the earth ripped from your feet.

But he shakes his shoulders in a gesture you take to mean get off.

“Just once more,” you breathe, fingers tightening in his fur as you lean closer to him, “one more ride. Please.” His head cocks, tilting to the side, eye curving round to see you on his back. What will you do for me?

Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline thumping in your blood. So many bargains, so many deals. Always one thing in return for another. But you need that high again. He’s given you a taste of the summer winds, how pure the air can be, how the world can tip as you dive and you need it again. Need to feel that insignificance—the unity with something greater.

So you make a reckless decision.

Your lips pull back from your teeth in a feral smile—one he’s given you before—then you’re swinging your leg over his shoulder, sliding down his silky fur as you drop to the mossy grass: spongey and soft. You turn to look at him, almost trembling with energy, sparking at the seems with inherent need and vivacious life.

As soon as your feet touch the ground he’s shifted, and you don’t allow yourself to fear him—only think of the skies and the clouds and that drop. You grab him by the hand, grin still splitting your lips as the sun shimmers in your eyes. You turn, tugging him along, moving as quick as you can as you drag him over to one of those patches of splattered colour, a section of wildflowers.

“You want me, don’t you?” You breathe, peering up into his dark eyes, writhing with darkness and malevolence and—hunger.

No second guessing, no room for doubt, you turn and step into him, hands snaking up his chest as you press against his body. He leans into you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you tight against him, taking in your scent as he growls—half beast. “You’ll let me bed you in a field?” He asks, a taunting undertone to his low drawl.

You don’t let his words summon that flicker of shame as you shake your head. You look him in the eyes, peering up at him as his heat seeps into you—warm despite the chilly upper airs. “Lie down.”

His pulse stumbles at your words. Your command. The feral wildness reflected in your gaze. He can hear the thrumming of your heart against your ribs, how it’s pounding in your chest with a need to be free. “Lie down, Azriel,” you repeat, hands tightening on him with need. Barely hiding his reluctance, he settles in the grass, watching you silently for your next move.

That melody is still living inside of you, strumming your heartstrings; playing on your ribs, but it’s fading. You need to hear its symphony again, that cluster of chords that will make you feel the fire of life. You straddle his thighs, fingers working deftly on his ties to set him free and you hear his breath catch at your intent. Then a rough laugh sounds in the back of his throat, wetness gathering between your thighs in response. “You want to have it here?” He growls lowly, eyes piercing into you.

“Yes,” you breathe, gripping him in your hands.

He doesn’t get much warning as your mouth descends on him, tongue lapping over his head as you had wanted to do this morning, wet heat encasing him. He hisses an inhale at the sudden sensation, taloned hands fisting at his side as he feels blood drain from his head with such dizzying speed.

You’re tempted to keep licking at him, but you’re aching, and want to feel the wind on your skin as you ride him. It feels good, like there’s a greater current tugging you toward him, urging you on in your movements. It feels right.

So you scramble up his body, mouth opening over his own as you slant your lips against him. A sound rumbles in his chest as his hands grip your hips brutally. Your own hands drop to the hem of his leathers, pushing and pawing in attempts to remove his top as you moan against him, letting your heart-beat guide you to what you want.

“Azriel,” you pant between the flashes of teeth and the flicker of his tongue. You again grope at his shirt, pushing it up and he finally follows, removing it and you take him in, mouth practically watering as you actually take him in. Every scar, every swirl of ink, whorls of shadow decorating his skin with ancient marks that beckon and call to be licked and inspected.

“You’re look at me as if you haven’t eaten in days,” he purrs darkly and you can feel him against your thigh. Something fractures inside of you, splitting down your spine and lashing at the inside of your skin, flaying you raw with need so great it threatens to obliterate you.

He senses it, the war drums inside, sitting upright as he grabs you roughly, your arms snaking over his shoulders. You moan when he kisses you, a deep, wanton sound. Your hips roll, pressing against him and he groans at your desperation—for him. Thoughts begin to eddy from his mind as primal need slowly seeps through him, weakening his restraint.

To his surprise, you lift your dress, pushing aside your underwear as your fingers find your pleasure-centre. The loudest moan yet spills into his mouth and he swallows it greedily, hand tangling in your hair as the wind whips around you, sun still high in the sky. Two fingers press inside, and you curl them. You know you need to prepare yourself for him. He was gentle before—or you were ready for him. But this time you’re taking him of your own accord, and you need to be fully equipped to deal with him.

Your breath catches when one of his hands slides possessively down the curve of your back, squeezing your ass before slipping beneath your dress. Talons scrape menacingly against the soft skin of your inner thighs and you whimper with pleasure. His claws retract and the air is pushed from your lungs as you feel one of his fingers join your own. “Azriel…”

He growls over your mouth, tongue flicking your roof as his grip tightens in your hair, drawing more pleasing sounds from you for him to devour. “Is this why you prefer your dresses? For ease of access?” He manages between breaths. “Yes,” you pant, his fingers curling inside of you. He doesn’t believe for a second you’re actually paying attention to what he’s saying, but it sends an overpowering wave of fire lighting his spine regardless.

“Yeah?” He chuckles as you roll your hips against him, getting wetter by the second—he can feel it. Feel you. “You want me to start taking you whenever I want?” He growls, mouth leaving yours as his teeth graze your neck. Your breath catches, one hand tangling in his hair as you tilt your head to the side with primal need, “bite me.”

He snarls, pupils dilating at the whispered command. He follows obediently, fangs scraping over the scars, before sinking down. You whimper, gripping him tighter as he laps at your life that spills on his tongue, drinking down every damned drop he can before his saliva seals you away again. He’s tempted to take another bite.

But you’re tugging at him, and your mouth opens over his, the metallic flavour coating your tongue as you taste him. Then you’re pulling back, taking your fingers from between your legs, too—more room for his own that he presses inside. A groan drags from his throat as you push your fingers between his lips, whimpering as his tongue laps at your flavour, heat raising to his skin as he stares you down, the wet muscle in his mouth flicking and twining over and between your digits as he sucks that taste from them.

“Do it,” he growls, retracting his hand from between your thighs, guiding his tip to your entrance. You pant breathlessly, settling your weight over his head and you know you can just sink down and have him inside of you filling you up making you spill—

“Azriel,” you cry, burying your face in his neck, teeth pushing at his skin desperately, “Azriel…” You repeat his name again and again, chanting it as if it were an ancient spell to relieve you of pain and bless you with unending joy and life. Over and over you say his name as a scared mantra, whimpering and whispering it against his skin with aching reverence. Lower and lower, inch by inch, until you’re sat in his lap and the world spins.

You remain still, basking in the fullness, bursting with energy. Your hips wind softly over his, and you hiss at the pleasure, white spots dancing in your vision like feathers or blossoms on the breeze. Your nails press again his tough skin, raking at his back as you lift, then slide down.

More. You need more. You need that symphony to sing to your bones, need to melt into him, break under him, yield and reforge into molten pleasure until your screams turn to song.

Your hands find the hem of your cotton dress as you pull away. Then you’re tugging it up over your hips, over your stomach, over your breasts, throwing it to the grassy floor. Press against him, bare skin on skin, heat and life and beauty flowing freely between you but you need more.

You guide his hands to your hips, hooking his fingers beneath the cream fabric. His talons slice without you having to ask, and you pull it away, kicking off your shoes and toeing off your socks until you’re completely bare.

Tears brim at your lashes at the feeling, of being utterly naked to the world. You can feel the heated grass beneath your shins, the wildflowers caressing your skin, the sun beating down on your form, the summer air—crisp and clean—filling your lungs. And him. Him filling you from within, filling you until you’re about to burst, laying upon you gift after gift of experiences. So many you would never have touched had he not stolen you away.

You manage to raise yourself from his lap—then sink down, settling yourself on his cock. You moan, loud and unrestrained. One hand raises from your hip to cup your cheek, thumb brushing beneath your lashes, pushing away the dampness. You’re not sure if you’re anymore capable of movement. Of breath, of thought, of anything other than being entirely with him. Of being entirely his. With every bone, every breath, every thought. If it’s all his, will it ever be enough?

His hips buck and a silent moan spills from your lips, cock touching a sensitive spot that has you finally spurring into action because you want more and more and more and it isn’t enough. You raise up, and drop down, pushing him deeper inside of you, so deep you’re winded from the fullness.

“Azriel,” you whisper over his lips, tipping your head upward as you wind over him, finding your pleasure in his body, “Azriel, please.” You need him in that way of his, need him to obliterate you. Your nails claw at him, grazing the base of his wings and he hisses. Repeat it, gentler. He groans. More pleasure.

“Azriel,” you beg again.

He pulls back to look at you, something raw in his eyes, “what?”

“Shift.”

His head goes quiet, almost silent, and there’s nothing left in him to resist your request. His features sharpen, fangs protruding beneath his lips, eyes slitting to slivers of darkness then his iris’ turn black, swallowing the whites. Talons push from his knuckles, thick fur dusting his abdomen and then—

Your back arches, curving up into him as you cling on desperately. His cock shifts, expanding below the head to rub against that spot inside of you, to drag against it whenever he—yeah. That’s it. Your eyes have gone wide and glazed, winding over him with fluid ease, as if you’re following some innate rhythm inside of you that’s perfectly synchronised with his roar of harmonies.

“A little more,” you breathe, staring up at him, “just a bit more, Azriel.” He shifts further, fur raising to his stomach, finger merging to form three-toed paws, accented with razor sharp claws. His cock grows inside of you, swelling, and you think you could die. Right there. You could be peaceful. So happy and content.

He grips your hips, urging you to move, to find your pleasure. To give him his own, too. But you can hardly move with the sheer size of him, one shift of your body will likely send you— He lifts you up and slams you down. You scream, gripping onto him as your hips buck wildly, and he’s pounding into you, canines scraping and nipping to deliver that edge of pain that has stars and moons colliding in sprays of silver and gold inside of you.

He keeps going, raising your hips and slamming you down and the breath is knocked from your body as you free-fall through ecstasy.

And you shatter.

He feels you fluttering around him, clamping down and he can’t help himself—his teeth sink again into your skin. Bursts of lightening buzz beneath your skin as pleasure sings to your blood, sparking and fracturing and welding and reforming. Heaven spills on his tongue, finest ambrosia put to shame as he’s swallowed by his senses. Indulging in your divine decadence until he’s lost what he is.

It takes minutes for the both of you to come back down from the highs you’d flown to. To glide back down and fully settle takes longer, and when you’re finally able to crack your eyes open, and push up from his body to meet his gaze, you’re not quite sure what to do.

Something changed. You’d been working in tandem, flowing from the same beginning to the same end, blending at some point as you blurred and melted.

You barely manage the energy to pull back a little, to put some space between your bodies so you can peer down. You’re startled by the sight of the bump in your lower abdomen. He just watches quietly as you lower your palm to it and press curiously. Both of you hiss as you press his cock against you through your skin. He’s so big. So big you can see his mark from the outside. How full did he make you?

“I…” You rasp, but don’t know what to say. Instead his eyes gleam, though there’s still something raw in those dark hazel depths, “still want that ride?”

Both of suck in a sharp breath as you tighten around him at the kick of need in response to his double-edged question.

It takes a while before you’re able to ease off him, and you feel empty once you’ve slid out of his lap. Empty enough you’re tempted to scrap the ride through the skies and instead hop back on top of him.

He probably wouldn’t mind.

But instead you manage to make it to a stream, both of you bathing in the waters. You dry off quickly in the sun—even if small blades of grass litter your body. With a little reluctance, you re-adorn yourself in your crumpled cotton dress, though your underwear is done for. You attempt to tie the sliced pieces together over your hips, but Azriel only re-slices them once you’ve managed. You can’t tell whether it was accidental or intentional on his part.

The ride isn’t as intense as the first, both of you seemingly in need of something soothing and calming to replenish yourselves with after the frenzied coupling.

The winds are still pleasant, the weather delightfully temperate, and he flies until your stomach growls in protest. You would have asked him to fly more, if you hadn’t thought maybe he might be in need of food as well.

So you spend the afternoon lazing in dappled shade, gorging on berries and weaving wildflowers—you haven’t done so since you were a child, and take great joy in seeking out the colours and stems you want.

Azriel lazes at your back, shifted into a four-pawed form to settle at the base of a towering oak. He keeps his eyes shut, but you get the feeling he’s watching silently as he always seems to do for you.

It’s only when you approach him gingerly from the front that he cracks his eyes open. His large head raises from the sun-warmed earth, peering down at you with a blacked-out gaze. His attention runs over you, going from the crown of your head—where a corona of flowers sits woven into your hair—to your still-bare feet.

Hesitantly, you hold up the circlet of wildflowers, beginning to approach. He growls lowly when you set it on his snout—unable to reach his brow. With a heavy huff of air, he blows the small crown up high, letting his shadows guide it lower to rest atop your own wreathed head.

You blink, touching the crown inquisitively. He waits for you to kick up a fuss, to start crying or to stomp away, but you stay where you are for a moment, watching him warily—as you should. Then walk away.

His eyes close, settling his large maw down atop his paws until he feels a small weight press into his side. Shadows swirl to find you dosing against him, the sinking sun bathing you in orange light as you press into his side with a yawn. The second crown tilts slightly as your eyes close, head tipping to the side. You continue slumping until you’re laying flat against the ground, still nestled to his side as you usually do when sleeping.

It’s somehow good to know that behaviour isn’t limited to when you think he’s unaware. It’s good to know you’re settling into some more animalistic habits. Hopefully when the Ceremony comes, it won’t be too demanding of a change.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

#azriel #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut #azriel fluff #shadowsinger #teeth and talons #demon!azriel #demon!Azriel smut #demon!azriel x reader

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

19 - Trust in the Gentle Rasps

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 14.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, discussions of warfare, suicidal ideation, grief and trauma, jealousy, posessive tendencies, male sexual assault victim discussion, smut, oral (f receiving), slight canon divergence

Notes: This was one of my favorite chapters to write by far, so hope you enjoy! Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Your quiet was palpable since nearing the water. Travelling west along the runs of the Wall had been easy, but it also meant that none of it felt quite real until now. Much like the last time it seemed, once arriving the body of water needing to cross, you could no longer deny what you were walking into. As soon as the men had crossed the bridge over the Trident it was blood which followed for years until you lay in your own. But whereas then your quiet was the uncertainty of what was to come, this time your quiet was the shadowing memories of what was lost. 

Bringing death and loss to the doorsteps of those who experienced it beside you last time, only now the plea was desperate and you were not the person any would remember. Asking them to make the same choice that ended in a massacre only so that they could hope to stand and fight against one even darker upon the horizon. Camp was being made some distance from the shore as you hovered back. 

The footsteps which approached you belonging to one of the only people brave enough to approach you when poised with such tense rigidness and sharp cold in your eyes as you looked over things. “I didn’t imagine you were one to stand back and watch others take over for you.” Nothing but curiosity in Ser Davos’s voice as you both stood side by side now. You didn’t respond but he took no offence. “Not from what I saw in you that day, either. You’re a more confident leader then this, your grace.” 

Fingers clenching in your crossed arms before inhaling deeply. “I am not the one they chose to follow. If I had to do this alone, I would have. But not a single one of these men would be here if he wasn’t.” Your eyes sharp as they followed Jon across the way. 

You were more distant with him then ever. 

“He is only here because of you.” 

A waver in your breath, you finally glanced away from the distant figure to look at Ser Davos. Slightly shaking your head as you tried to stand as calm and unaffected as you could manage. “He’s here because the North is his home, and he’s fighting to protect it. Doesn’t need me for that. The North never has.” 

You didn’t want to see the understanding sympathy in Davos’s eyes, you knew it wasn’t just one you were talking of. You failed to see yourself as anything worthy in either of their lives and only the remaining wonder if you had not been there, would they have avoided death? Was your presence this time an omen that blood would follow once more for such a leader? You were too involved in a life he had been forging without you. 

Leaning down more towards your side, his own voice lowered to match your tone. “You wouldn’t know that if you keep avoiding him, now would you?” Turning away as your eyes peeled from him in a glare to out back to the settling camp of free folk your jaw clenched harshly. “I’m not trying to involve myself in your affairs, your grace, but I do know he’s as tense as you are. And two tense leaders who refuse to speak to each other isn’t what I’d call good for morale.” 

It would be so much easier if you didn’t feel as if your lives were constantly trying to circle around each others like magnetic pulls wishing to attach. Would be easier if you just could detach from whatever this all was and do what needs to be done and forget the rest. But you didn’t have nearly enough of your father in you for that. 

“I wasn’t the one who acted as their peacekeeper, not sure these men really would care about what I add to their spirits or not. Seem to be doing just fine.” Truly you were grateful but you could slink into the waters ahead and never return, and the cause and leader they followed would stay the same. 

Good thing about Davos, he knew well enough when to not push one or the other. Unfortunate for you, there was very little he could broach that wasn’t going to give you a headache further. “Surprised me that you allowed your mother to come along.” 

“So was she.” You gave her little room to argue or question, but you knew leaving her alone either at Castle Black or worse, sending her home unprotected at Dragonstone was only with grim prospects. “If all she has left is me, then it does not matter what issues lay between us. She would have no one left, and that...mother’s need something, someone left to live for no matter how strained.” 

Your instructions were clear, she is not to involve herself in this war or planning in anyway, and she is to keep thoughts of this religion of hers to herself. The last thing this cause needed was more whispers of unnatural abilities or other world like purposes. “She’s not good at saying it, but she’s grateful you care. Though most of your family isn’t good at saying what they mean, are you?” 

It barley caught the hint of even the halfest of smirks. More of a tiny glint in your eye that faded as quickly as it sparked as he continued. “Never seen this many wildlings in once place.” 

“I think they prefer the term, free folk.” 

Right back to the start he was correcting himself. “Never seen this many free folk in once place.” 

“If I’m not mistaken, Ser Davos neither you or I have ever seen any free folk until meeting them, period.” Technically you had met one but hardly for long. Bran had told Sam that Osha took Rickon alone to saftey when he went beyond the wall with Howland Reed’s children. You had no reason not to trust her, you just hoped she could keep him safe in the same overwhelming dread of two teenagers, Hodor, and Summer all there was to keep Bran safe beyond the wall. Not noting your wondering mind, Davos chuckled beside you, and you wished you could as well. “I just hope they understand what they’re truly getting involved in.” 

You heard the man before you saw him, a rumbling laugh before he was brave enough to slap an arm around your shoulder as the simple force jostled you. “You doubting us already, pretty crow?” Never did quite get used to how large Tormund stood beside you, like a cliff that was pained orange only with much more vulgar echoes. 

Flickering your eyes to the side, you didn’t move much more but there was at least more of a hint of amusement then before. “No. I simply understand it’s a strange fight you’ve decided to involve yourselves in, after everything that’s happened I mean.” 

Shrugging to himself, he looked back to the camp and pulled you in closer. Giving Ser Davos a slight bit of whiplash as to how used to being yanked around by such a large figure you appeared. You spent three years with Maege Mormont, you were no stranger to being jostled around by loud personalities, but the thought made you swallow. Trying not to think about what would happen when you get there and who wasn’t. You knew Dacey hadn’t gotten out that day, and it made you sick to think about. 

The two Mormont’s meant much to you, helped ease you into something normal in an army camp as they cared not to watch their tones with you. Dacey didn’t deserve to have her life end at the Twins like that, none of them did. Too many faces you wondered about, some more then others.

Tormund beside you, paid no mind to your thoughts. “After everything? You mean after seeing the dead rise up after getting slaughtered? You southerners aren’t so bad compared to that.” 

A moment of quiet between you three before finally speaking up in more command. “I want you coming with us when we travel across.” Both men turned to you with a curious look but you only kept your eye out onto the distant water. “We stayed a ways back so they wouldn’t feel ambushed, but if we are going to get them to say yes, then we shouldn’t shy away from the fact that they’ll be agreeing to fight beside your people.” 

A deep humour in his voice with long exaggerated sound out of each word, “I am honoured, your grace.” 

For once, that actually got a small smirk out of you. A lightness in your tone that tried to fight away and failed. “Now that just sounded wrong coming out of your mouth.” Tormund laughed as well, knowing only he was watching a far pair of eyes narrowing in this very direction. 

Choosing to look as much in them as he could manage as he leaned down to you, “So what does a pretty crow like you prefer to be called?” 

Rolling your eyes at such a jest, you fell not for the bait without knowing it was even cast. “Tormund, I am fairly certain it doesn’t matter what I say you will just continue to call me whatever term finds itself in your head.” 

It would not be many of you, Jon, Davos, Tormund, Theon, Selyse, and yourself being escorted to the main land of Bear Island hoping it sent a message of civility. There was no real threat of enemy being given from House Mormont and yet as you stepped onto the deck of the boat you felt your heart race. It didn’t matter how many of you there were. An army didn’t save from a massacre the last time you went to a meeting with what was supposed to be an ally. 

Still, you stayed on the opposite end as he did. If you didn’t know what to say in private then you were surely lost as to what to say to him in the fake quiet just out of others earshot. But you felt his eyes on you, and thus yours stayed attached to the waters ahead. 

“Starting to tell who is used to being on a ship.” Turning to look at Theon, your eyes were slightly squinting from the winds in them but otherwise a little more calm washed through. You were perched against the back wall leading to the bow with both legs hanging over the deck and a hand resting casually on a rope by you. He gestured to your posture himself, “Don’t think I’ve seen you this relaxed in a while either.” 

Theon leaned against the edge, his arms folded against the wood just beside where you sat looking out to the waters passing. “You forget, I grew up on an island as well. Spent half my time on ships going from White Harbour, to Dragonstone, to King’s Landing and back. This is nothing.” 

Davos was the only other who found agreement in the breeze. Long time his job was travelling along waters but in the recent years of his life they weren’t in hiding from any eyes. At least he and your mother were used to keeping the other’s company by this point. You didn’t want her to be alone, but that didn’t mean you had a clue how to talk to her. 

Both you and Theon stuck to looking out to the waters with little focus on any else, it was nice. For a moment, it felt like the days when you were both just teenagers not having to care about the politics around. “I forgot until I got there, how salty Pyke smelled. Even in the summer Winterfell was always so crisp and it wasn’t until I was on a boat did I remember that not being able to smell the sea used to be so odd.” 

You managed to find half a smile in your heart, “I always thought anywhere would be better then Dragonstone. Only on the beach did it really smell like the sea, otherwise the further from the castle you go, the more it just smells like brimstone. The deeper into the trees you go the worse that gets.” You could still see her. Hoisted up onto the edge of a rock so she sat level with your height as you both looked down to where you knew deep tunnels were formed under the surface. She hardly left the main bounds of the castle, so Shireen always loved the smell of brimstone. To her it was like the scent of adventure. 

Amused slightly, he asked, “You saying Winterfell smells worse then that place?” 

No hesitation as your face grimaced in the memory. “No, I’m saying that King’s Landing smells worse then all it combined.” Theon looking curiously at you, but your eyes only kept in the distance as the land grew closer. “Too many people packed into too small of a city, everyone is poor the moment you leave the Red Keep and no one cares about it. Add a summer heat onto that and you get the worse smelling city you’ve ever come across. That I certainly don’t miss.” 

“Do you miss anything about it?” 

You were quick, tone dropping to something harsh. “No. I was always miserable there. Either I was being dragged away from my sister, or I was being dragged away from..” Swallowing thickly you tried to drop the weight from so high in your throat. “Constantly going from King’s Landing to Winterfell was awful. I was so miserable everytime I got back to the capitol and everyone knew it. Renly used to always say everywhere but Winterfell disagreed with me.” 

“He was right.” Your eyes finally meeting. “Much as we try to tell ourselves otherwise, or how long we spent where we grew up, the North was our home. Where our actual family was.” Not a sea sick, but that weight dropped from your throat to your heart and the dizziness from it made you feel nauseous. 

“Hard to remember that some days.” 

It wasn’t home where you were both kept, it wasn’t home where you were trapped and tortured sometimes only done in mocking of the other. It wasn’t family that brought you back home, that wasn’t a place you belonged. That wasn’t the home what Robb once told you that you belonged in. Even if this was successful, even if you reclaimed it, it was hard to imagine finding a home there once more behind this loneliness.

“Do you ever wonder whether or not it would’ve been better if you left me there?” You didn’t look, you could feel a narrowed sharp gaze on you from Theon but you didn’t want to handle it beyond the swirling in your own mind. “Escape with your own life, and spare the spiral of death that’s done nothing but follow where I go now?” 

The weight in his voice made you feel only more sick on the inside. “No. But do you know what it is I do wonder? Whether or not you’ve actually gotten past wishing you were still dead.” A stab in your mind pricked at something that was sharp and full of a sting behind your eyes. “For a long time with him, there was nothing. Took everything about who I was and killed it. Until he dragged me down to see you. And then the only thing that kept me trying to fight to stay myself was knowing that any day I could wake up and you would’ve taken your own life just to make him stop. So I got you out of there, got us out but then some days, I don’t know if I really did. I think you’re still trapped with Ramsay wishing you were dead.” 

Truth be told, he wasn’t wrong. Theon knew what that pain inside you was, because he had watched it fester for over a year before you finally ran out into the freezing cold to escape it. But you were still in that place, reliving those nightmares from The Twins and waking up to the violence Ramsay would enjoy throwing your way. And ever since leaving all you did was drag that violence and burden along behind you to weigh down and hurt everyone else with. 

And it was nothing but feeling selfish that made you want to jump into these waters and let it take you to the bottom forever. Who would still be alive were you to have stayed dead? If not beside Robb, then at least by taking the less cowardly route and end yourself before you brought this blood to others doorsteps. “There are far too many eyes on me at all times to get away with that now.” 

To you it was meant as a joke, but to Theon it was anything but. “No. You’re just going to make the rest of us watch as you do it slowly over time.” 

You didn’t argue. He didn’t elaborate. Theon was right but you had no defence, excuse or otherwise to refute it. The only good memories you had left, the only things you found to give any breathe in your lungs were marred in only doing it beacuse you were weak. At least that was what it felt like.

Bear Island was a far more beautiful Island then Dragonstone. Cliff sides of rock that were naturally carved into the thick trees surrounding each clearing of land and water that splashed against them or poured down from pools pocketing the surface. The air was as crisp as ever and the faint misting of water against those rocky shores poured back down onto the boat. 

You always loved that mist. In the heat of summer it was a refreshing reprieve from how thick the air was that only ever faded the closer to King’s Landing you sailed. Calm waters in a dense and busy port that was as loud and crowded as it was hot. This wasn’t that, you jumped down from your perched place and braced both hands onto the edge of the boat to look over the coming Keep with wider eyes. 

The last time you looked out to the water shining in the sun also painted in your mind, and you felt a twisting in your stomach and the freezing that followed as it bled out in minutes. Suddenly there was a lot less calm, and far more creeping dread inside that you could feel yourself growing dizzy from it’s volume. 

As the ship finally docked, you inhaled with your eyes firmly shut for a moment before turning to rejoin the world. Meeting Jon’s eyes as you both made your way to the middle, there was a moment of just firm understanding for the meeting to come. Whatever this was, you had to do it together it was the only way. 

He didn’t put a hand on you as he gestured politely for you to pass, but he could easily see the unusual amount of tension strung high in your shoulders. A few guards coming to greet you as Jon took the mantle up to introduce you both by proper name. Keeping it as unmessy as possible with titles now that you both know what of that loomed.  

It was strange though, realizing for the first time you had never heard Jon refer to you as anything but a Baratheon. Hearing Stark felt wrong coming from him, but you weren’t sure why, not realizing it was just as strange for him to say it. You as a Stark felt like a different person then the one he knew for so many years, but yet in the quiet and dark you were exactly that same Baratheon he remembered. 

If there was talking around you or Jon, neither of you really noticed it. Conversation scattered behind you both between four behind you, who other then now would never have conceived of meeting and ahead two people who knew each other far better then this hurtful silence had any right being attached too. 

Tormund and Theon finding a strange array of things to talk about, both coming from culture’s with some of the most bloodshed focused of traditions. Davos and Selyse alongside them, much more quiet but still civil and calm. If any of them noticed the oddity that was the painful silence between you and Jon, none spoke of it. 

Coming up to the steps of the castle, you tried not to glance beside you, not to notice the way the mist of the shores had his curls sitting a little less wild in it’s dampness. And biting your tongue with a glare to nothing trying very much to ignore the images in your head and memories your body was asking to relive. 

But as he turned to you, if Jon noticed the intentions behind your already watching eyes he didn’t address it. Voice low and in a bit of comfort to your own, sounded the faintest hint of unsure. “Hope you and I know the Mormont’s as well we think.” 

Easing those same nerves as you were led inside you nodded to the sword at his side. “I wasn’t the one who was trusted to be given their ancient sword.” 

His own tone was more teasing, as was the glint in his eyes looking back at you. “And I’m not the one they followed into war calling a Queen.” 

Your eyes now on the halls in front, missing the genuine smile you got from him. “Would be a bit strange if they started calling you a Queen, Snow.” That was a small jest he felt it had been a long time since he had heard from you. Always calling him that only when you were in your own gentle teasing mood, yet it was never even possible to match the levels he could dish to you in particular. 

Still, something about how easily the lightness slipped from your mouth, felt like hope. 

Alysane Mormont looked remarkably like a younger version of her mother. Tall and large with a bright look in her eye as she stood behind the one sitting in the desk. This one you heard of more, the youngest, Lyanna sat very small and young at only ten. Alysane was older, but seemed to be giving the youngest a chance at being in charge as she watched her carefully.

At least until Jon went to greet them both. Which was when the older one spoke up looking at you with a squint. “Never thought we’d see a Queen in our halls. Let alone a dead one.” 

Her tone was light, but gods was the look and air shared between you and Jon anything but. You wanted to be intimidating, wanted to put on the best face but you knew their mother and you knew it wasn’t stilted formality the older woman had responded too. 

Your own glance to Alysane with a raised eyebrow, “I never thought I’d wake up after dying. We both get to experience something new.” It was very easy to see her mother in her, letting her sister take the reigns but she watched with something like a fondness as you softened a bit. “I also know Dacey wasn’t given the same chance, and I’m sorry.” 

Little Lyanna was as quick as she had been described. “It wasn’t you who killed her.” 

You wanted none of that, looking more seriously at her. “No, I didn’t. But someone should take responsibility for it, and she called me Queen which means it’s me to take that blame.” 

Her eyes narrowed with a strange look to you, as Alysane turned to look beside you. “You’re here, which means this is Jon Snow, I take it? The King’s brother.” 

It was heavy between both of you, and his voice was rough as he spoke. “I am. I also served under your Uncle at Castle Black, my lady. I was his steward.” 

Lyanna watched, but it was recognition in her sister’s eyes that was of interest. Glancing down only for a second to where the hilt of Longclaw could be seen, before glancing back up to look at him with something that certainly made the air feel a little more interesting. “Last I heard you were named Lord Commander after him. What’s Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch doing at our Queen’s side all the way here?” 

You narrowed your eyes, as she certainly would know. But Jon didn’t play along with whatever game the ladies were trying to set up as he looked to Lyanna. “We’re here to ask for your help. I know Stannis Baratheon tried to pledge your house to his army, and I was shown your response, Lady Lyanna. Bear Island knows no King, but the King in the North. Whose name is Stark.” 

Moment of weakness, your eyes flickered over to him. Standing tall and sure it was easy to see why he’d be chosen as Lord Commander. Even in deep quiet tones, he spoke as a leader. 

“Now I may not be a Stark in name, but Robb was my brother, and the home and Kingdom he died for is being torn apart by the Boltons. And I also know that the same man who murdered him and shoved a knife in her stomach.” Jon gestured to you with something of a controlled anger in his voice and clear as day on his face. “Kept your Queen as their prisoner, and spent almost a year being tortured by them beyond anything you can imagine. Roose and Ramsay Bolton cannot be allowed to keep Winterfell, and as long as they do, the North will continue to suffer. With Robb gone, that means it is my duty to stop them.” 

Unseen by most of the party, but as Ser Davos stood to the side there was a bit of a proud smile trying to fight it’s way onto his face. Jon was not quite as stubborn as Stannis had seemed to think. 

The younger one glancing to her sister before turning back to the pair of you with her own doubtful eyes. “You mean to protect the North, but you bring wildlings into our land, and one into my home?” 

 An eyebrow raised on you, “Forgive me, my lady but it seems you might be misunderstanding what we are here for.” All eyes turned to you as you found something of a voice, “Jon and I are not here to ask you to make friends. The Free Folk and the Night’s Watch have been fighting each other for thousands of years and yet now there is an army of them on the mainland who followed Jon all this way because they understand this is more important then who our enemies were before.” 

Something in you couldn’t let it passed. Something deep that remembered, as you sat against the bars in an unknowing shock, staring at the corpse of the man next to you. And in the worst of that moment, it was Tormund who came to sit at your side. Who helped you stand and regain your focus to do what needed to be done that day. “Both of these men fought against each other, murdered men on the other side of their fight but now they stand here together because they understand that if we can’t protect the North from each other then we cannot protect it from whats coming.” 

A silence was thick in that room. “And what exactly is coming, your grace?” 

You could see the visions and dreams of cold and ice but it was Jon who answered for you. “Summer is over, and winter isn’t just coming, my lady. It’s already here. And when the worst of it hits, so will the dead, and with them, the Others.” Both women shared a look, but there was no amusement in any of the eyes in the room standing before them. Jon’s own was filled with a haunting memory. “I went to Hardhome beyond the wall to bring the free folk south, because the Others are awake, and they’re building their own army. I saw them, I fought them, I even killed one of them and when it was all over I watched every single person who died stand up beside them.” 

Stepping forward to the desk, there was an undeniable determination in his eyes that made both Mormonts almost shrink back from it’s intensity. His palms leaning against the desk to properly look the more defiant one on equal ground. “If we can’t protect the North from ourselves, then when the Others come, we won’t stand a chance. The free folk have attacked Bear Island many times over I know that, they held me prisoner in their own lands where at any moment he,” 

He turned partially, gesturing to Tormund behind him, “or any of the others I was with were ready to kill me the second they realized I wasn’t on their side. But now he’s trusted his people with me, because we cannot fight a war amongst ourselves and expect there to be enough of us to fight the only one that matters. There’s no hiding from this. We have to fight, and we have to do it together. All of us.”

Alysane looked at you with a questioning gaze that you almost willed her not to bring up. Letting Lyanna prove her valour and stand her ground in making a choice for her people, and it was a relieving feeling when the small girl looked up at Jon almost impressed. “House Mormont has kept faith with House Stark for thousands of years. And we will not break faith today.” 

Jon nodded, standing up straighter. “Thank you, my lady. But I’m not asking you on behalf of House Stark. I’m only asking you to protect the North we both grew up in, not for my family, and not for any oaths you swore to them. I’m a Northerner just like you, all I’m asking is you fight beside me as one as well.” 

Your eyes slipped shut. You knew she was going to say it, and it was precisely why you wanted Jon to understand exactly what this was going to be. Alysane was the one who likely knew it, if not both the surely the now eldest daughter she would know. “Are you though?” 

Jon turned his head to her, a confusion in his own eyes that slipped to a well hidden realization. If he were to be honest if you had asked, he had almost forgotten about that conversation. It was a little too easy, almost embarrassingly so to forget that conversation when he was torn between this coming wars and trying very hard not to obsess like an animal over how to fix things between you. 

But as she spoke, you could feel all four pairs of eyes turn to you from behind as Jon looked at Alysane. Perhaps you should have warned them of this as well. “Only asking us a Northerner? The King in the North we chose was your brother. My mother brought our men to fight for Robb Stark against the Lannisters, my eldest sister was killed the same night the Freys and Boltons killed the King, and his Queen.” Her eyes were curious and it painfully reminded you of the knowing look Maege Mormont had given you when you realized she knew you were hiding being with child. 

Your voice was a bit cracked, as Jon took a step back now closer to your side then he was when this meeting first started. Speaking, you tried not to think about how comforting being close to him currently felt. “If you would like Lady Alysane, Jon and I could stand here and show you the scars that killed us both if you are with doubt of our story or intentions, though it might be a tad indecent in front of your younger sister.”

They had heard rumours of you, but not of him and yet not a single one in your own group looked as if it were untrue or merely a joke. House Mormont was your best shot, and you knew you had to lay our cards out on the table as plain as possible. No matter how uncomfortable. 

For a moment she looked taken back, “Your grace that was not..” She glanced between you both with something in her eyes that looked just like the awing fear many had thrown you and Jon at Castle Black and amongst the free folk. “It was not my intention to doubt, we have no reason to think either of yourselves would come to us with lies. My mother trusted you, and my uncle you.” Nodding to you then Jon respectively. “I merely mean he isn’t just asking us as a Northerner-”

You could still see two faces, one on Jons of a stunned feeling when you told him, and the other of Robb as there was nothing but confidence and love as he made it clear to all of his decision. You were quiet, and Jon was thankful you spoke for him this time. “Help us reclaim the North first. Nothing is as important as this fight, right now. The Bolton’s will soon know we are coming for them and we need as much of the North together as we can for when we come to their doors.” 

The two Mormonts shared a look. Lady Lyanna looking up to both of you, “I can give you sixty two of my our own household guard, and whatever of our own men my mother can provide you with.” 

Your eyes perked up slightly, as did a jolt in your heart. She was one you did not know the fate of. “Is she currently available to meet with ourselves?” 

Alysane tilted her head in question, “She should be returning to the keep by nightfall, left us in charge while she rallied up men as soon a she got your raven, your grace.” You and her both looked at each other with a unique little moment of glee. Alysane had heard much of you, not just as a Queen, but as someone who her mother clearly considered a most valuable friend. “We can provide you all with food and room for the night if you are willing to wait here for her return.” 

Grey eyes found yours, and in your single nod, Jon wasn’t sure but he seemed to sense exactly what it was you were saying. Or more, you seemed to understand his silent question and agreed. “You’re very kind, we would be glad too.” 

A small comment from Davos, that it seemed, managed to make the little Lyanna smile a bit more like the child she was. “If these men are half as ferocious as you two, the Boltons are doomed.”

It was just as you were departing, did Alysane call for you once more. Turning back into the room you looked expectantly. “There is a man in your group, one who looks an awful lot like Theon Greyjoy.” 

She said nothing else of the matter, but you didn’t even move to fully face her as you spoke with a quiet sternness. “That would be beacuse he is, my lady.” Asking why you would allow him here with his life you didn’t even blink. “It was the sentence given by both the King in the North and myself for Theon to be brought to him for execution. And now he stands by my side with his head intact. I will only ask you trust that means his crimes have been paid for, and mention it no more.” 

It was that very one who was turned back to watch as you finally followed, and for just a moment you both looked to the other with a distant unsettled feeling. These people will have no idea just what he’d been through and how many times over it paid for his crimes. But as you nodded for him to move forward along side you, you figured that if they could trust wildlings through Jon they could trust Theon through you.

Nightfall seemed to bring storm clouds onto Bear Island. The gold of the evening fading out as you considered if it was worthwhile to bother heading inside. Not on the side of too dark, but the wind picked up as soon no doubt rain would splatter onto the waters you were looking out at in a matter of time. 

Deepwood Motte was where you would descend on next and reports were still accurate, Ironborn likely still sat deep in the area and getting House Glover on your side would require a fight no doubt. It felt like a lifetime seen you’d seen any kind off violence on fair battle, more so making you wonder if you even had it in you anymore. This wasn’t the same unified fight as it once was, this was a scattered group desperate to unify before it was too late. Group of people who were struggling to find harmony when there was no question of that the first time. 

Everything this time around already started in something broken. A cause that you had to convince people of, from two people who could barley look at each other by now. All this talk of what was meant and destined, but it all felt so disjointed the second you two were alone. You never used to be this way, it was always so easy being with Jon. 

If you were being true to yourself, you were fairly certain that the night before this all kicked off was the first time either of you had ever even argued. Normally finding little to even disagree on, and it wasn’t something you enjoyed doing. You liked getting to the point or just shutting it out until it simmered but then he kept talking and you couldn’t keep it to yourself. You had spoken more today then the entire journey to get to Bear Island from Castle Black. 

Maybe you could slink way in the rain, disappear and him to lead this fight as a true leader on his own and find success within that. 

Enough time had passed all on your own that you hadn’t noticed until the sun begun to set. Didn’t notice that you had missed any appearance in a meal. Your back laid flat on the edge of a stone walls, just looking out to the lands and water, hoping when it rained you would melt with it. 

Jon really should have known better. He knew Tormund was trying to poke at him, trying to set off something that the man knew he was holding back and yet he still let it get to him. Earlier that day, there was no other reason he was making such direct eye contact with him across the camp other then to burn that part of Jon’s insides that hated seeing someone else with you so freely.

He had never had that, and he still didn’t. He could, it didn’t seem like many objected to the idea and even noticed on his part. Uncomfortably he was well aware of the curious stares your mother had been giving him, and he had no idea how to feel about that. Like every Baratheon in your family, Selyse was incredibly hard to read beyond such a stoned expression and sharp but watchful eyes. Even moreso now that much of this group had stuck together since arriving, but like you, she was very quiet.

He had known the woman seemed to be pushing you to some ideas of destiny. It was that of a trick he did, but having no idea where you were, Jon focused enough. Just the right amount of energy that never stopped feeling bone chilling when it happened. If he did it now it would be even stranger, Ghost being on the mainlands and none would know it was Jon through his eyes. But he trusted them to keep peace without having to babysit. 

You however, he was started to think he should just chain you to him for how often you slunk away on your own. Missing the offer of food from the Mormonts, no one knew where you were. And it was that damned orange haired smug smile of Tormund's as he looked to Jon, “Aye, she probably just needs the right kind of company. If no one else objects-” 

Jon took it upon himself to stand abruptly from the table with a deep grumble as he glared. “No need. I’ll go.” Before walking out without waiting for any response. He never had to deal with what this was. It was different with Robb, neither of you chose that and Jon left before he was forced to watch whatever it turned into. Until he did, but from what he knew now that you’d seen a fair share of your own. 

Jon knew why it was more difficult for you. Neither you nor Robb had any choice, it was a surprise to everyone and you made the best of what you were dealt. He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted you and Robb to love each other and he was proud his brother did find someone who made him happy. But no one involved got to choose, there was no freedom there. 

But he never talked about Ygritte, and all you could gather was whispers from others and what the gods had unfairly chosen to show you. All you had seen, was Jon finding something with her that he could never have with you. Ygritte herself tried to argue with him that this was freedom, he could choose to do whatever he wanted and it didn’t matter what they were long as they had each other. 

Freedom of course, coming at the cost of Jon’s well being. It took a very long time for him to admit the truth to himself and even now it felt pathetic to say. But it was her, or death. Nothing else. Prove your worth they said, and proving it was to give her the one thing Jon had spent years dreaming of sharing with you. Convince himself it was good just because of how it felt, telling himself because sometimes he saw the amusing sides of her that that was the true picture. 

But then you asked him that final night and the last of his lies snapped and he let it all explode between the two of you. You had gone to the top of the wall before, looking out to the North one last time in the freezing cold. “I should take you to see how strange it looks from the South during the daytime in some places.” 

“I think I already have.” 

Posed on the edge of the bed he looked up to you, both of your minds trailing to that strange moment thousands of miles away from each other. Eyes wide before something uncomfortable sat in his chest and moved to his heart. Swallowing with a nod he dropped his head. “Right.” He didn’t in that moment know why he spat it out, but he did. “I didn’t love her. Ygritte..I didn’t love her.”

You paused mid movement, turning away from him as your brows narrowed, mumbling. “It isn’t my business if you did.” Jon trying to call your name, get you to look at him but you just shook your head facing away from him. “She was someone you could be with, could be together with. I wouldn’t blame you.” 

Jon sighed, trying to get you to look at him but you just kept looking away. You weren’t malicious, or cruel, or even going for something with an agenda. It was an innocent, quiet question. “Why not? Love her I mean. Why not?” 

It was unfair to let it out on you but he did. “You’re really asking me why I didn’t love her? You?” 

Turning around it was obvious you were confused, but he barrelled on through your protests of confusion at his anger. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved my entire life. Do you really think the second you’re gone I’m going to just fall for the first woman who comes along? That I forgot about you that easy?” You tried saying his name but he was getting louder, and he knew he needed to pull it back but it wasn’t really you he was looking at. 

It was a far more defiant face who pushed him and pushed him all day long until she broke him enough that he relented, and then every support she gave him was in value of something Jon never was or wanted to be. An anger in her own eyes that you never even came close to looking at him with, and a combative attitude that was exhausting, and would constantly strip away at his own self worth. 

Standing up, he saw your guarded expression as you barley blinked or moved only for it to look like her smug smirk that mocked him relentlessly until he was exactly what she wanted. “Spending every night having to put my own direwolf between us beacuse she’d spend the whole time trying to get close to me, mocking me for never sleeping with a woman just because it was the one string she could pull at and get a reaction? Are those the things I should have fallen in love with?” 

You didn’t know these things, and he knew that. 

“Or was it when every single person in their camp wanted me dead and the only way I could protect my own life, was to send Ghost away because I knew he’d never let her near me if he stayed? Or how the only reason I even could stand touching her was beacuse I kept seeing you in my head instead?” He was right in front of you by that point and you hadn’t moved what so ever. He wasn’t even sure you had blinked. “That’s the person you think I should've fallen in love with after you? A girl who didn’t respect a single thing about me, and was only letting me stay alive beacuse she took everything I had left to defend myself and made me fuck her against my will.”

He never said it out loud like that, and as soon as he did, Jon felt something twist inside of him he did not like. Something that felt sickening. And as you looked at him with soft eyes that he wanted to fall into, he instead let his head spin and skin feel filthy. 

You softly muttered his name, “Jon..”

Jon had refused to let himself come any closer. Turning around and running a hand over his mouth looking at the floor before you. “Ygritte took everything from me that I always wanted to give to you, and then had me tricking myself into thinking it was real only as long as it kept me alive. And while I was lying to myself about being with her, you and Robb were murdered. When I finally got away, I tried to play off her feelings and say she wouldn’t hurt me because she loved me and it got me shot full of arrows and dreaming about you in a pool of your own blood only to wake up and find out it was real.” 

Clearly you were trying to keep an even tone in your whisper. “Why not tell someone the truth?” 

He glared at you, when you didn’t deserve it voice deep as it rasped out, “No one would believe me. A man of the Night’s Watch letting a wildling girl take advantage of him? The only person who would’ve cared about any of it was dead, and when I finally get her back in front of me, she tells me I’m wasting my time trying to love her again. You think that makes me feel good?” 

You bit your tongue, and Jon hadn’t quite grasped until later that it was your own nightmares flashing through your mind, showing exactly why you weren’t worth someone like him. You had always held him in a higher regard then he thought he deserved, and he knew you were still doing it now. Only now it was with a lot more pain. 

“I wasn’t trying to..I didn’t know..I’m sorry.” 

It was tense in the air, and something needed to break before it all was thick enough to choke on. Jon did it first as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Neither of you looking at each other. “I know you loved Robb, and he loved you. I wanted you both to and I’m happy you loved each other when you had the chance. But I never wanted to love anybody but you, and I never will. So don’t stand there and tell me I deserved to love someone who stood against every kindness you ever showed me.”

You could only whisper you were sorry, before you walked out. And he hadn’t seen you until morning, a stiff, steeled expression in your eyes and posture. Jon felt a lot of regret, you didn’t deserve to be yelled at for the things Ygritte did, but you were nothing if not an expert at avoiding him these past days. 

And it wasn’t until you two walked up to the Keep of Bear Island did he feel like he was slowly getting a bit you back. Now as he looked for you, natural instincts told him where to look. Along the edges of the Keep closer to the water where the setting sun lay and brushing storm clouds were swooping in from. 

You always liked cliff sides and water’s edge. No doubt a time from growing up on Dragonstone, and so Jon begun searching along each corner for you, trying to run around in his mind figuring out how to ease you into an apology. How to make it better for yelling at you, even though a sinking part of him had a feeling that you would just forgive him without question. 

Not wanting to risk making him mad, and he could only angrily think of how cruel Ramsay was to you to try and beat that little spark and tough fire inside of you down to nothing like this. And how he would even begun putting that flame back like you deserved. You brought Jon back both in life and spirit and he wouldn’t stop until he did the same for you, no matter how you chose to accept him in your life anymore. 

Rounding one corner is when he spotted you, leaning back with your arms crossed against a pillar near a set of stairs as your eyes were trained hard on the road in the distance. Slowly Jon came up just behind you, seeing the horses in the distance and the galloping of what sounded like a fair number of them. “Where are the others?” 

Glancing back to you, there was almost a hint of anticipation in your eyes that for a moment almost looked childlike. It was strange, both of you so far away having found something of different companionship in the two eldest Mormonts. Leaning his head a bit closer to you, rumbling a bit quietly in your ear. “Hopefully making sure Tormund doesn’t scar Lady Lyanna for life.” 

You smirked a small bit, your mood having lightened somewhat since arriving. Even from what he could see, just being on the ship sent you at ease more. “From what I’ve seen I’m not sure there’s much that scares any of them.” 

“There is one thing.” His voice low and serious, you both glanced to each other in a knowing that convincing these people to fight a war against their enemies is one thing. Making the rest of the North believe in the rest was another. 

Your eyes softened a bit looking at him before you seemed to realize how long you had been, fluttering them back to the growing distance. “You were impressive back there. In that meeting. Leadership suits you.” 

Unlike you, Jon felt no need to hide the returning look to you and keep it there for far longer then would normally be considered appropriate. “I’m glad someone thinks so.” Your posture stiffened for only a second with almost panic swirling in your eyes before letting it deflate in a shaking exhale Jon knew you were hoping he didn’t see. 

The numbers that gathered were easily groups that were in the hundreds. The woman in front climbed down from a great horse, standing tall and large in stature with a harsh face that squinted as she looked up to both of you before settling on your own person. 

Ascending the stairs together, Jon watched the woman look you over before a great smile came over her. “Gods be good, the rumours are true.” You stood a few feet away from her with as much composure as you always had before the larger woman came forward closer to look at you closer. “We never thought you’d be a face we’d ever be seeing again, your grace.”

Only in a single second, the larger woman barrelled you in a large hug, one that she almost laughed into and Jon could see something tight and relieved in your own grip. Pulling you back by your forearms as she looked at you, Jon clearly seeing a smirk plastered on both almost like family. If he were being honest, it felt like a reunion you should have had with your actual mother. 

The woman with such a casualness, “And you still look just as shit as the last time I saw you.” 

Your tone was light, something much more like a genuine smile coming over the rest of your face as you breathed out from a laugh, “Happy to see you’re still around to keep all those beasts at bay.” As you leaned in for one more embrace, you seemed to have whispered something to her as when the woman turned to look at Jon, there was already a realization in her eyes she was keeping to herself as you stepped back between them.

Her gesturing towards him with her head in a playful glint. “Now, you going to introduce me to the handsome lad or what?” 

Coming closer to accept her now outstretched hand, “Jon Snow, my lady. I’m-”

The casual interruption with what she already knew already reminded him of the Old Bear. So nonchalantly would toss information at him Jon didn’t even know how the man found out. “I’ve heard all about you. You’re Robb Stark’s brother.” Stepping back he nodded as she glanced at him with a curiousness in her eye. “You also served under my brother up at the Wall.” 

“I did. He was a good man, deserved better then how he died.” 

You seemed to glance between them with a narrowed expression before turning to Maege with a more steeled expression once more. “I will go let your daughters know you’ve arrived back. Bring your men here up to speed while I’m at it.” 

He didn’t say anything, but there was a look in Jon’s eye trying to pull you back to him. To stop you from running away but as you ascended the steps with a few of those who rode up with some familiarity, Jon was beginning to think he was going to have to corner you to just get you to stay in one place. Not realizing he had been watching for far too long as Maege stepped closer to beside him. “Now I know it’s not me that woman’s running away from.”

There was a curious pointed look in her eye that Jon didn’t respond too. Trying to speak through a vaguely nervous tick of clearing his throat. “She’s been through a lot, still adjusting to some things.” 

Maege hummed as she looked at him for another moment before beckoning him to follow her up the steps. “It know too well it won’t help much, but I’m sorry about your brother.” His eyes flickered to the side to a knowing distant pain in the older womans. “Hearing your brother got butchered by his own men thousands of miles away from where you could even try to help. Awful way to die, awful way to find out they died.” 

Turning down a path to overlook the waters you likely had just been waiting around she added, “Though, you two also know what that feels like first hand don’t you?” Jon’s heart skipped a beat under the hole above it to remind him. A bit of a chuckle left her at the rigid response given. “Brother was Lord Commander for a long time, I still know men there who keep me in the know. Should I even bother asking how either of you survived or is that why our jumpy Queen there seems so keen on not looking at you?” 

Jon swallowed harshly, looking down as his palms braced gently on the stone wall in front of them brows narrowed. “I don’t know how she did it, or if she’s even sure it was her. But I’ve seen her scar and I know there’s no way she didn’t bleed out in minutes.” His voice was rough, and his chest felt heavy at the delirious dreams as he was unconscious seeing it for the first time. “Or why I’m walking around after getting a knife shoved in my heart, but we’re both here and we know as long as the Boltons are allowed to control the North we can’t protect anyone when they come.”

If there was only one thing that could truly haunt Jon in such a dread filled way it was that day. The sight of just how many free folk stood up beside the Others with glowing blue eyes. Staring one of them down feeling as cold and hopeless as ever, knowing that he could cut down as many as them as he could but with the numbers they awoke? If the North stayed this torn apart, Jon wasn’t going to be able to protect anyone. 

All that was between them was the splashing of water against the rocks before she spoke up, quiet in tone but with a deeper conviction. “We all followed your brother into war before he he fought his first battle, chose him as our King after the Lannisters murdered your father. Because we believed in him. You lead these men and reclaim the North? They’ll follow you no matter what comes for us beyond that Wall.”

This was why you warned him, it was inevitable. “I’m not here to ask anyone as a King-”

Confidence seeped into her voice. Looking at him with a knowing glint that reminded Jon all too much of the Old Bear. “The King didn’t name you his heir against our will. The two of them came to us with no arguments. You’re Ned Stark’s son and you were his brother and that was all he needed be sure he wanted it to be you. They both did. They both knew you deserved what he had and if none of us thought the same it wouldn’t have been such a damn quick meeting to sign off on it.” 

His heart screamed heavy at him, jealous of Robb for so much, for so long that the mere idea that in the end he wanted Jon to succeed him simply because they were brothers put a stop in his throat. Not arguing of politics or duty, but that he wasn’t just forgotten at the wall from his brother. He had missed Jon as much as Jon missed Robb, and in his death only could find one final thing to give to his brother hoping to bring him back home. 

It was a weak argument, and she sniffed it out right as he said it. “You still have her, she’s still your Queen to follow.” 

Maege smiled at that. “Aye, but she doesn’t want to be our leader. Knows as well as I do that no matter what people try to say, she isn’t her father. Holding that weight up by herself is too much for her, and I could take a guess what sorts of things the Boltons did to her, I think leading us all on her own would crush her. She and your brother worked so well because they were a team. She trusted him much as he did her to the point it’s easy to forget she’s not even a Northern sometimes.” 

But what kind of King could Jon ever be compared to Robb? He couldn’t imagine any kind of admiration as he knew Robb had earned from these people, he was ready to lead them into a war of survival but somehow taking up Robb’s mantle as King was the thing that felt daunting. 

But it’s what Robb wanted, and he knew it was what you wanted. You just refused to push him into something not knowing if he wanted it. You never pushed him into anything he may not want.

“You didn’t name Robb a King until he started winning battles. Least I can do is wait and see if I win my own this side of the Wall before I start thinking I deserve it.” Maege laughed, something under her breath muttering about you all being stubborn and he had an inkling he just may have started to sound like Robb himself. 

There was quiet for a breathe, before she turned tune. “Alright, enough of that. Let me see it.” 

Jon looked over to her with a confused expression before she nudged him on the arm, gesturing to his side. “The sword. Been some twenty years since I laid eyes on Longclaw, let me see the wolf.” Pulling it out from it’s sheath, Maege grabbed the hilt from him with a bright look. 

The smile was wide as she turned the wolf head around to take it all in. “He made it after your own direwolf, he said. What’s his name?”

Jon nodded, a small grin on his own face looking over the hilt himself. “Ghost. When we found the direwolves, he was far away from the others, so quiet he never even made a sound. I have no idea how I even heard he was there.” His own memory fading back to when he first got Longclaw. Showing Ghost the hilt remade, and telling him with a grin how it was him. Even apart now only by a few miles of sea and land he found himself missing him.

Maege looking over the red jems as eyes with a fondness. “Gods, it is good to see this thing finally getting some use after all this time.” Starting to hand it back to Jon, it seemed he made a mistake with what he said next. 

“It’s an honour, being given the chance to use your families sword.” The look she gave him now really reminded Jon of the way the Old Bear would look at him sometimes. Like the way he’d look him down as if to say to get your shit together. 

She all but bashed it into his chest for him to grab. “Seven hells. Do you really think that man went to all the trouble of remaking the entire bear hilt, re carving it, finding jems for those eyes only beacuse he assumed you were borrowing it?” Rolling her eyes, there was a fondness in her eyes as she looked at him. “That sword spent over twenty years sitting up at the wall. Just mocking my brother beacuse it was just a reminder of how badly his son had disgraced this family.” 

Shaking her head, she looked out to the water. A deep memory painting over her. “We all were sure it would stay up there until he died, and then it would just sit here in the Keep like some ancient artifact. But instead, he saw something enough in you not just to let you use it, but to give it to you.” Nodding to the hilt visible where it sat on his person. “He didn’t carve that wolf out so it could come back to us and just get re carved again. It was our families sword. Now, it’s yours. And whatever family you may decide you ever want. But don’t be fooled, Jeor gave you that beacuse he believed in you, and because you deserved it. You Starks seem to be pretty bad at accepting you’re allowed to deserve good things.” 

If the emotional punch to the gut was noticeable in Jon’s hesitant pause, she didn’t point it out. But she did something that Jon had only ever been used to from you. So casually grouping him in with House Stark without a second thought because you never really understood the point of seeing him as anything but one of them. And that was a habit Jon knew for certain, Maege Mormont could have only picked up from hearing you, even after all that time, still group him in with everyone else no matter what the world tried to say. 

You never shied away from the fact that he was a Snow, but you never once kept his identity in your mind separate from the Starks. Stannis Baratheon had offered him Lord of Winterfell to be an ally, and make him a Stark in name. Something for years he always wanted. 

And yet as you had stood there, telling him that the North, you, and that Robb had so easily decided they wanted him to be King in the North if anything happened to him. And that not once in that offer did you ever push him to take it, or that you wanted him to be anything but who he is. The fact that becoming a Stark wasn’t part of Robb wanting Jon to be King, he thought to himself, meant more then being made a Stark by someone else. 

Because Stark or not, to Robb, Jon Snow was his brother no matter what. And being King after him didn’t require a formal deceleration of becoming one of the family. It was strange for Jon at this point in his life to realize that the brother Jon always thought was better and got a better deal in life, truly loved him with no hangups or clauses attached to it. 

It was a Southern King that said only Jon Stark could be Lord of Winterfell. But it was his own brother who wanted Jon Snow to be King in the North after him. 

And for some reason, all Jon could think to do in that small moment by himself, was to smile. It was always odd in his heart how much you had always seen Jon for exactly who you knew he could be, but it was a whole other thing to start realizing that the North he grew up in, just might be coming to that same conclusion as well. 

But as he stood there, the storm clouds still debating amongst their own if it should bring rain over the setting sun, he thought of almost nothing but Robb. He wasn’t there to protect him when it mattered most, but Jon knew he needed to do more to protect what of Robb’s was left. 

Wherever his brother was now, Jon hoped that Robb trusted him with his wife. Because in the year since losing him, Jon knew you were left in a confused insurmountable amount of grief and pain that was only soaked in more blood and new torture. Leaving you in a darkness all alone, and someone needed to force you out of that pit before it took you away again forever.  

You trust me with your kingdom, his silence spoke. Eyes slipping closed as he stood in the quiet, hoping Robb could hear his prayers. Now please, trust me with her heart. She fought in a war beside you, but this time, someone needs to be the one to fight for her, someone needed to stand in front of her, and tell her it’s okay to let me protect her. 

You kept away from Jon because you were terrified of forcing things or feelings onto him that your tormented mind worried would no longer exist. But this pain between you was all out in the open now. You were honest and so was he. You needed someone to protect you instead of forcing you face these demons all on your own.

Jon hoped the crashing of water against the rocks, and the cold wind swirling around as it flew through his thick curls, was Robb answering his prayers with his blessing. Because Jon was going to do it anyways. 

Walking to where you were to stay for the night, you felt mentally drained. The Mormonts were far too lively of a bunch to handle in your current state, and too many questions, looks, and stories being thrown around. Already before even reaching the door, you begun unlacing everything with the intent to throw it all on the ground like a petulant child. 

But as you slipped into the door, you could see Jon leaning against the wall of the cozy room by the window. Your mind noticing the long grey shirt you normally never saw under the black and leather atop it, with some of his other things gently draped along the desk. Pausing without closing the door, you narrowed your eyes “I assume I’m in the wrong room.” 

“You’re not.” 

His voice was deep, but steady as his grey eyes were bright looking to you. Slowly you shut the door behind you, a confused furrow in your brows as you looked at him. Jon watched you with something so much softer then anything the past number of days, a look he was unafraid of letting you see in full opposed to the heavily guarded state you were still in. 

Taking only a few steps in at a time, you slowly placed your own sword down beside his against the wall before finding yourself not knowing what to do. “Am I allowed to ask why in a place this big I can’t be trusted with my own room?” 

Jon’s chuckle was deep, and a small smile full of a fondness as he met you more in the middle. Even as he was dressed down, and you still dressed properly you felt small in comparison. “Maybe you just can’t be trusted to get a decent sleep all on your own.” 

A lightness in your chest burst out before you could even contemplate the playfulness in your eyes as you said it. “Funny thing to say, coming from a man who used to barley manage getting more then five hours half his life.” 

He watched you for a second, stripping you down of those barriers without a word before gesturing for you to put your back to face him. Not considering that you just followed that silent command without any question until his hands gently started to undo the rest of your outer layers. Trying to look back at him confused, “I can do this part just fine, you know.” 

The hum in your ear sent a small shiver down your spine as he rasped. “So why are you letting me?” You could see the edges of his curls in the side of your vision but you had no answer for that other then to stand in the quiet and let him. 

When you were just a tinge lighter, Jon stepped closer, so lightly running his hands down your arms you almost felt lightheaded at the sensation. Somehow so warm against the cold of the night air, your body relaxed enough to find the courage. “Jon, about the other night-”

You almost gasped, feeling his chest press closer to your back, his voice rasping but soft, hands soothingly still running up and down. “Don’t apologize. You asked me a question, and I yelled at you for something you couldn’t possibly have known. You didn’t deserve that, so let me be the sorry one.” A weight in your chest sunk down, a sting behind your eyes as you nodded. “Good. Because I want you to listen to what I’m about to say.” 

He was braver then you, but if you weren’t such a coward, you’d be temped to reach one of your hands to to grasp his. “Okay.” Only a breathless whisper came out. 

Jon’s voice was as full of something heavy as you could feel in his heart. “Robb doesn’t want you to feel this alone. You loved each other, and you always will but he doesn’t want you to hate your life after him.” His hands stopped moving, but one of his thumbs continued to run across the fabric over your arm. “And you are not ruining my life by being here. I never thought I’d get the chance to even see you again, but now we’re both here. And maybe the gods wanted it that way, maybe it just is the way it happened to work out by chance but I can’t just stand back and watch you try to push me away because of what’s broken up here.” 

One hand moved to gently tap at the side of your head, as you tried to pull away at the sensation. Only as you reached back to instinctively swat at his hand, Jon caught it in his, bringing it down to wrap your arm across your stomach still holding onto it, and pull you closer to him. “What I said, about you being with Ygritte I never would have....had I known I wouldn’t have never suggested it.” 

Jon nodded against the back of your head, “Well now we both know. That’s what you were doing earlier right? Laying our cards out on the table for them to see, make sure they understand exactly what they would be getting into?” You nodded, your heart speeding up a bit. “I thought I lost you once, but this time I’m never going to stop fighting for you. You deserve to have someone who loves you, but if you don’t want it, if you don’t want me like this,” The hand on your arm sliding up gently to trace over the sensitive skin of your neck as you shook out an exhale. “I’ll never push you for anything, but we cannot hide from each other anymore. You need to tell me if you don’t want this, but not beacuse you think you don’t deserve it or because you wrongly think I don’t want you.” 

You felt ready to cry if you were being honest, he made this too easy. To slip into a need to be close to him and not want anything else. “I will always love Robb,” Jon nodded as your eyes fluttered shut but when your heart didn’t steady you had to say it anyways. “But that never stopped with you, either.” 

His hands on you tightened the slightest, as you let out a small sigh when his lips so gently pressed to your neck. Jon’s tone husky as he spoke into another gentle kiss, “Will you let me do something for you? Is it alright if I make you feel good?” 

Heart about to explode, your mind so lightheaded you could pass out. Not sure if you could handle the roughness like that one night, not sure if it was a wolf at all you could take but you nodded. You trusted Jon. 

He didn’t push you further, he wanted to be gentle it seemed. Running his lips so gently over your neck without ever pressing any firmer, and his hands didn’t grow rough in their touch as Jon gently pulled back enough to pull your shirt up and off your chest. 

Dropping it where it lay, you shivered from the cold as he reached both hands down past your breasts to slowly run along the edge of your pants before pushing you to the bed, “Sit down for me. Let me take care of you.” 

As you turned to sit, you could see the grey in Jon’s eyes was dark enough to look almost black as he carefully pulled the material off your body. Kneeling down before you as you were perched on the edge of the bed, he ran those same eyes all over your body with an intensity as you sat bare before him, still totally dressed. 

Gently, your hands reached out. One running along the edges of his curls before dancing across the scratchiness of his facial hair, the other finding his shoulder as you sat up straighter. Your breaths growing in heaviness as you both watched the other carefully. Jon finally returning the gesture, running both of his hands along your cheeks before leaning up. 

Your lungs stopped in the swiftness of the movement, your eyes fluttered shut only he didn’t close the gap. Only traced the length of your nose with his, keeping you so close you could feel his breathe until he could sense the nerves simmer back down inside you. Both thumbs running over your cheeks as he exhaled shakily. “Doesn’t seem real sometimes. Being allowed to have you this way. Spent all my life knowing I’d have to give you up and it never got any easier.” 

Your hand ran through his hair more like a comb, nails raking smoothly along them but never tugging at each more wild tangle. Keeping his forehead pressed to you. “Do you remember what we talked about, that last night in front of the Weirwood?” Your brows narrowed trying to recall it, as you unintentionally drew his attention away as your nails scratched his scalp more. Jon pressed into you further, a distracted but satisfied hum deep in his chest almost like that of the wolf usually found at his side finding his voice again. “Talking about how we’d meet in a different life?” 

Slowly, Jon started to move his hands down. Keeping just as close knelt before you, but slowly letting his hands run down your neck and over your shoulders as his voice was a gentle rasp. “We were way off, weren’t we? Castle Black is a far cry from Highgarden.” Tracing his fingers over the sides of your breasts you tensed at the spark of touch, “It’s also far too cold to be summer. But maybe this as good of a new one as we will get.” With a touch as light as a feather he ran his thumbs over both your nipples, almost jumping at the feeling. 

Your eyes opened to drift down to his shirt, the edges just far enough that you couldn’t see the mark over his heart even though Jon could see the one on your stomach perfectly. Your eyes slipped back shut however, as his rough hands more fully grasped at your breasts, and the spark underneath swam more throughout your body and into your blood. 

Sighing out high pitched, one of your hands slipped from him to grasp at the sheets below while the other wrapped more around the back of his neck into his curls. The movement naturally pulling your chest better up to his own level so one hand of his reached to hold steady at your hip before moving back to the task at hand. Opting to press his lips lightly to your collarbones. 

Moving down slowly until the hand on one breast twisted so he could pull your nipple between his fingers as his mouth gently nibbled at the other. Your gasp far louder then the quiet of the room but it only spurred him on to bite a little harder, the other hand twisting a little firmer. 

His last touch was so desperate, so raw and rough, that you felt dizzy in his arms this time around from how almost teasing it felt in comparison. Groping a little greedier as his lips found the same path until you let out a needy hiss at a harsher bite. Pulling back though, you gripped his hair a little tighter at the loss but Jon only gently shushed you. “Lay down for me,” Trying to move to the main part of the bed he pulled you back by your hips, climbing up only enough to push you to lay down where you sat. Legs dangling off the side of the bed. “No, no, stay just like this, right here.” 

Kissing your neck gently you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be soft with you or if this was just a true cruel tease to draw out on your body. “Jon,” Holding back a whine as he let his mouth trail back down to your breasts this time with more soothing presses of his lips and tongue to soothe the stinging bites he left. “Can I-”

“No.” Your eyes shot open in surprise, but he only moved finally down between your breasts to kiss along your sternum. His facial hair scratching along your skin, the rawness mixing with his gentle touch making you want to whine. Barley letting his lips leave your skin long enough to speak. “I don’t want you to do anything,” You could have cried a how lightly he ran his lips along the scar before pressing a kiss to the very top of your mound. “I just want to taste you.” 

You swallowed heavily, his hands moving to your thighs as you felt a strange beating in your heart like nerves. “I don’t..why would you-” 

Trying to soothe your nerves he rasped, “We’ve done this part before, darling.” You could remember the feeling, but it was so sudden, so animalistic you could barley comprehend it at the time in between the shock of him even standing before you. “Am I the only one to ever do this with you?” When you nodded, he kissed the same spot before kneeling on the ground where you could feel his breath between your legs. 

Jon kept it to himself, but he felt proud of himself for still being able to find ways of being your first after all these years apart. 

Slowly moving your legs to rest over his shoulders, Jon grasped at your hips to keep you steady before kissing a path up your inner thighs. One side, then the other as you let a needy whine out. Jon never once wavered, keeping his mouth always attached to something between your legs until a small kiss was left to your clit. The second you cried out at the feeling, the desire spilled over for him. 

Jon sucking your clit with his own need this time, before moving to run his tongue flat down along your folds. Humming in his throat as he licked right back up as he held your arching hips in place. Eager brushes gently at your clit in between nibbling grasps between his teeth until you were shaking in around him and you were soaked from it. Those same gentle brushes of his tongue moved back down, and finally letting him move his mouth to your cunt as he wanted. 

This time, it was a bit more as you recalled. His facial hair burning between your legs as he kissed and licked inside of you. Only instead of a starving, vicious wolf, he was licking and drinking everything you granted his mouth as if between your legs was treasured oasis crafted only for him. 

Your head fell back into the sheets as you moaned, small whines along with it of his name as your hands grasped the sheets beside you. Between your own breathlessness, all that was heard in the room was the soaking sounds of Jon’s tongue inside of you. 

Never rushing it, never even trying to push you to an orgasm. Only drinking between you with a slow, steady pace that had you trying to not let tears fall out from how good it felt. Letting a hand dance up to gently run though his hair, he held a bit tighter and made what felt like a vibrating growl into your cunt at the sensation you tested the waters and did it again, to the same reaction. 

Moving your hips to pull more into his mouth you were almost lifted slightly above the sheets as you cried out, the core inside of you burned so hot and twisted so tight but he just kept such a slow pace, such a leisurely taste that it never reached it’s peak just when you thought it may.  

Your breathing almost a faint hyperventilating as you almost couldn’t get any air he pulled it all right out with each brush of his tongue that ran along such sensitive walls. His nose nuzzling against your clit that had you cry much louder, back arching more but he just ran his tongue inside of you greedier then before. 

This was for you, but it also was for him truly. 

You weren’t really sure how long he kept you there, but it was a while. Quite a while, like he couldn’t stop himself from leaving between your legs. Each time you were poised at an orgasm he would pull back, slow down until you calmed down in his touch and once more his mouth would return to licking you back to that peak and take it away again. You already had lost count how many times he had done it.

It was long enough that even in the cold air, you felt a sweat forming over your body as you knew there too were tears at the side of your eyes spilling over. “Jon, please, gods please you’re so good..” 

You weren’t even sure what you were saying but it made him shudder against you. Finally, in what felt like the slowest growth of your orgasm yet, this time as Jon’s mouth and tongue coaxed you to that edge he let you fall off it. Your core snapping with a pleasure of only his name and his arms keeping you pressed firmly against his mouth. 

You writhed against him as the sparks jolted your entire body and he just kept between you, taking everything you gave him with greed until you were jumping at the stimulation. Finally, Jon pulled away, kissing your clit, then your mound and once more your scar before leaning up over you. 

Hovering just above, his eyes were blown wide open and pitch black, his own lips swollen and soaked as just looked down to you. “Jon..please..kiss me?”

Eyes closing, he shuddered before shaking his head no. Swiftly moving up the bed, Jon pulled you into his arms, laying more on his side and keeping you cuddled into his chest while you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. His voice was raspy and deep, northern accent strong and thick as it slurred together into your own neck. “If I kiss you now, I’m going to lose it.” 

Running your hands through his hair, your brows narrowed. “It’s okay-”

“It’s not okay.” Sighing out as he clearly was trying to keep something contained as you only cuddled in his arms, him trying not to push you right back down and let his cock fill up your soaked cunt that very second. “Rest for me, darling. Just for tonight.” If he was talking to you or himself, it was difficult to tell as he mumbled into your hair, “I’ll always take care of you.” 

It was easy to fall asleep in his arms. Jon was warm, and never once let you out of his grasp. Keeping you in a safe bubble only encompassed by him. 

Jon wasn’t lying, he knew if he kissed you while you were bare in his arms, in a bed after already having spent well over two hours tasting you? He would have shoved you down onto the bed, spread your legs wide and fucked you deep, as many times as it took until he had absolutely nothing left to spill inside of you, but he wanted to take his time. He already took you like an animal, now he wanted to ease you back into it with a tenderness, with love. 

Despite trying, he, himself didn’t sleep very much that night. It was hard to sleep when he was too busy enjoying how soft and pliable you were in his arms. In your sleep, your hand drifted up to rest along his heart and he pressed a hand there to hold you against him gently. Kissing your hair once more before giving himself a chance to at least try to get some sleep. One thing had not changed since your early years together at least. 

It still took an immense amount of will power for Jon to treat you with a gentle innocence when you made the wolf in his blood run hot and possessive at all times. 

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

[cupidseok]

necklace of stars, waiting for you by the carousel

PAIRING eunseok x reader

SYNOPSIS eunseok remembers all of his past lives. when he finally found his lover, he was unfortunately robbed of their time together. eunseok then continues to live multiple more lives, always in search of his lover, hoping they’ll meet again in another life.

GENRE reincarnation au, soulmate au, angst, fluff

WARNINGS death, a male being reincarnated into a female; do not read if uncomfortable with these topics !

AUTHOR’S NOTE i recently rewatched eunseok’s smrookies vlog where he went to everland and it reminded me of see you in my 19th life, so i decided to write this cause he was just too cute 🫶🏼 it’s also my first time writing something other than an essay for school work, so feedback is greatly appreciated. hope you enjoy this 🧡

WORD COUNT 1.7k

“won’t you ride the carousel with me ?”

“i want to go to the horror maze though.”

eunseok had lived many different lives. one after another. the years and lives he has lived seemed to blur together, until he met you. he had always been content with living alone, in isolation. he knew that all the relationships that he painstakingly built would inevitably disappear, like snowflakes melting on a warm palm. he knew that better than anyone else after the overwhelming heartbreaks he went through in his first few lives, which led him to be unfeeling and indifferent.

eunseok clearly remembers the exact moment in which his whole life started to change – the very moment in which your large doe eyes met his and a “sorry” slipped out of your mouth as you rushed to pick up the books you caused him to drop, a flush evident on your face. it was then that he started to allow himself to feel again, just for you.

“but that’s so scary ! let’s ride the carousel instead, please ? it’s our anniversary after all.”

“i’ll think about it.”

“eunseok !”

eunseok smiled softly at your pleas, wide eyes looking up at him. his heart fluttered with the delicate grace of snowflakes, on the brink of a winter wonderland of happiness.

“i’ll follow you wherever you go.”

he reached into his pocket and pulled out something.

“what’s that ?”

“for you.”

it was a pretty silver necklace with a star charm hanging off it. with both his and your initials engraved on each side of the charm. you turned around and let him clasp the necklace around you. it was so pretty to you.

idle chatter and music from the playlist eunseok made for you filled the confines of the car. your animated gestures when you talk, your sparkling eyes when the streetlights reflect on them, your adorable giggles when he makes a dad joke and your endless fidgeting in anticipation of your anniversary together. you in your slightly oversized pink parka, seated next to him in the warm and cozy car. eunseok feels as if all the empty crevices in his heart were overfilled with you and you alone. perhaps amidst the frost-kissed chapters of his life, there will be enchanting moments waiting to unfold.

a car’s honk.

“eunseok ! careful !”

the roads, slick with a layer of frozen precipitation, caused tires to screech and cars to veer out of control. amongst winter’s serene beauty, an ear-piercing symphony of metal crushing and glass shattering. swirling snowflakes, momentarily suspended in the aftermath.

eunseok regained consciousness to come face to face with his lover, bloodied and bruised. your pink parka stained red.

“no.”

he reached over his cut-up and trembling hand to cradle your head as he desperately searched for any sign of life.

“no please.”

eunseok’s heartbeat echoed painfully in his ears. why ? why in this life ? why is fate so unfair to me ?

“i’ll follow you wherever you go, my love.”

he cradled your unresponsive body close to his as he slowly felt himself losing consciousness.

sirens filled the neighbourhood as onlookers whispered amongst themselves. the stark contrast of the pure white snow against the pool of blood and pile of wreckage painted a macabre image. you and eunseok, close together in winter’s unforgiving embrace.

as the paramedics tried to pull the two limp bodies apart, they found out that they couldn’t as their silver necklaces were entangled together.

my first life without you

fate was unkind to eunseok in this life too. in this life, his name is jack somer, born in australia. because he was born into a poor family, eunseok worked really hard. he worked hard to earn enough to sustain himself and his family, consisting of his mother and brother from this life. he worked hard in hopes of seeing you once again. however, he was largely preoccupied with earning money for his family, so he could not put aside much time to look for you.

on very rare occasions, eunseok would manage to save up enough money to enter the local carnival. he would then spend his day sitting on the bench in front of the carousel, watching as people walked by. watching couples happily chatting with each other while holding each other’s hands. just like what you and him would have done if you both made it to the theme park that day. watching young children run around, causing their parents to freak out over them. just like the family you and he dreamed of having one day. watching people being together. just like you and him once were. but he never found you. or perhaps you were not reincarnated in this lifetime.

my second life without you

in this life, eunseok is well-known by many as marcelle beaumont, a famous french designer who established her career in fashion design through her winter collection. during the winter, you could see many citizens wearing pink parkas from her brand, the most popular item in her collection that was extremely well-received by the public. she wondered why the red parka wasn’t popular.

due to the successful launch of the clothing line, eunseok had plenty of connections to the rich and powerful in society. he utilised those connections to the fullest, but yet he still could not find any trace of you. or perhaps you were not reincarnated in this lifetime.

my fifth life without you

song kang. one of the top south korean actors. popular for his melodramas. you always loved to watch melodramas with him. and he would always pull you into his warm embrace afterwards to comfort you when you were upset about the expected tragic ending of the drama. this was eunseok’s fifth life without you already. and he was feeling increasingly anxious and uneasy without you by his side. it didn’t take much for him to act sad in dramas. after all, all he had to do was recall the accident and tears would start flowing endlessly.

as eunseok faced the large crowd, flash blinding his eyes, all he could do was put up a forced grimace. at every drama screening, his eyes would dart around, a tinge of hope as he scanned across every face in the crowd. as always, the knot in his stomach would tighten with every unmet gaze and he allowed defeat to seep into him once again. he later accepted that he would not find you in this life. or perhaps you were not reincarnated in this lifetime.

my eighth life without you

kazuha nakamoto was his name in this life. eunseok was a famous female japanese musician. he briefly wondered : had he been a famous japanese musician before ? but his memories of his past lives were foggy. it seems like he could not clearly recall anything that happened before he met you.

“memories” is yet another timeless song that eunseok would leave behind in this world. talking about his happy memories with you. in his life with you, you really loved a japanese group called akb48. maybe he could let you listen to “memories” when you both meet again. a song made just for you, eunseok thinks you’d really like that. he did not meet you in this lifetime either. how many years have passed ? he was getting tired. but it’s alright, because he’ll follow you wherever you are.

my tenth life without you

“it’s almost been a thousand years.”

eunseok sat on a bench, facing the front of the carousel. he was dressed to the nines in his sharp and sleek suit tailored just for him, with an expensive silver watch adorning his wrists and a silver star necklace hidden underneath his crisp white blouse. a pink parka laid on his lap, in case he got cold. in this life, he was reborn as song eunseok once again. this time, he is the son of a ceo in south korea.

“where are you ? i’ve been trying to find you yet there’s not a single trace of you for me to follow.”

eunseok continued to sit at the bench for hours, staring at the spinning carousel and trying to block out the laughter from all around him. he felt hollow. the heart-wrenching feeling he had experienced every day since he got separated from you was slowly fading, replaced instead by emptiness. it was as if he returned to his past self, the cold and emotionless person he was before he met you.

soon it was almost 8pm, and eunseok stood up from his seat, ready to leave. he bumped into someone of a rather short stature, carrying a telescope stand that seemed too heavy for them.

“hi sir ! are you leaving already ? there’s a special stargazing event tonight hosted by the celestial horizon society ! i’m part of it. would you like to join us ?”

“no, it’s alright. thank you for the offer,” eunseok muttered an excuse, wanting to get home and rest already. he was exhausted with the paperwork that his father piled on him and his driver was waiting for him.

“but the event is only for today; it would be a shame if you missed it ! stars are really pretty, you know. i can tell you must like them too; you even have a star necklace ! it suits you very well, by the way.”

eunseok hadn’t even noticed that his necklace had accidentally slipped out of his blouse, being too engrossed in his thoughts beforehand. he gently slid his thumb over the necklace, feeling the engravings of your initials.

“okay.”

“great ! i’ll lead you there, sir ! my name is y/n, sorry i forgot to introduce myself,” you tilted your head so that the telescope stand wasn’t hiding your face anymore.

as eunseok’s eyes lay on the sight of your face, the frosty air seemed to tighten around his chest, creating an icy embrace that left him breathless.

“you. i finally found you.”

“sorry sir, have we perhaps met before ?” a confused expression overcoming your soft features.

“no. we have not. but i would like to get to know you. i’m song eunseok, nice to meet you, y/n. before we go stargazing, would you like to ride the carousel with me ?”

© cupidseok — do not copy / repost / translate my works

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