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sluttysnowangel666 · 1 month

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His Second Wife - cregan stark x reader (request)

summary: two years following the death of cregan’s first wife, he accepts an undesired marriage proposal to rhaenyra targaryen’s daughter. rhaenyra’s daughter, who had loved cregan the moment she first met him as a young girl, immediately loves and accepts cregan’s first child as her own. yet it is still not enough for cregan to find his own love for his new wife.

cw: mean cregan😓, widow!cregan, targ!reader, loss of virginity(reader), rhaenyra’s daughter, angst to fluff, unrequited love, sex, happy ending

do yall notice i always post a long ass story usually around midnight or later ( i’m unwell)also this is long af soz it was a detailed request and I wanted it to be to a T. this is SOO long. i prolly should have done two parts… oh well @lillithsalvatore hope you enjoy it love ❤️

“How do you feel, my love?” Your mother asked, placing a warm and comforting hand on yours.

You sighed. “Nervous.”

She gave you that warm and sweet smile of hers. “I know. I hope you know this choice was not easy for me to make, as I know this was a hard task for me to place upon you.”

“I know, mother.” You say with forgiveness, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Had it been any other lord I would have surely declined but… Starks are the most honorable among men. I know your union will be blessed by the gods.”

You give her a smile, blindly trusting her words. You had met him once, and you knew he was kind. In fact, he had left a paw shaped imprint on your heart. You thought to yourself no union could be more suitable. You knew he had married once before out of a prior marital alliance, but the marriage had been short lived, lasting only a year before his first wife died in her birthing chambers.

It took more than four moons before you arrived at Winterfell, as if every power in the world was set on preventing it. You were not a superstitious person, so you simply thought all the bad things that happened prior to your marriage was coincidence.

Each time you went to leave, something prevented you. Your mother miscarried your baby sister, Lucerys was killed by Aemond, Daemon went silent at Harrenhall, Rhaena ran away and was lost in the eyrie before revealing she claimed Sheep-stealer.

You arrived in the dead of winter, and the journey had not been kind to you. You got a chill on the way up, causing you to stop at an inn for a few nights, you had came across raiders who killed one of the many men escorting you, and your clothes were ill suited for the weather.

You did eventually arrive at Winterfell thankfully, all in one piece.

You stepped out of the carriage cautiously, eyeing the snowy landscape surrounding you. It went as far as the eye could see. You held your hand out, letting the thick snowflakes fall and melt in your hand.

“My princess.” You turn to see Cregan, walking towards you. He bows, forcing a politeness. “Winterfell is yours.”

You bow in return, “No need for such formalities, Lord Stark. This is your home, and I am honored to have you welcome me here.”

He nods, choosing to say nothing else to you.

“Please show the princess to her chambers.” He says to one of the servants, then immediately turning on his heels to leave. Your jaw falls slightly, surprised at his curt demeanor.

You compose yourself, trying to hide the slight hurt in your features before making your way to your private chambers.

You bathed immediately, welcoming the hot water against your skin. No water could be hot enough for your dragon blood, but what they had drawn up for you would do nicely.

Your wedding was a week after your arrival, the lord having given you time to settle in. You had not seen him much during that week so you chose not to bother him, assuming he was busy with duties.

When you walked down that snowy path to the red weirwood, Cregan stole a glance at you. You looked beautiful, and he felt horribly guilty for thinking it. He felt like what he was doing was betraying her.

You said your vows, swearing your love before the old gods. You smiled at Cregan and he gave you a forced one in return. Guilt wracked his whole body. He felt guilty for you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give you a union where you were loved, he felt guilty for liking your smile, he felt guilty for forgetting hers.

There was a feast following the ceremony, nothing large due to the pains of winter, but it didn’t bother you. The small gathering felt intimate, compared to southern weddings where lords and ladies travelled from all over the realm to witness it.

It was here you met Cregan’s son, Rickon.

“Hi, little one.” You said. He was only two, a fat little babe who looked just like Cregan.

“Rickon, this is my new wife.” Cregan said. The way he worded it made you twitch, it had sounded so strained. He didn’t even use your name. You told the boy the name he could call you, but he said nothing as he hid behind his father’s leg.

“I apologize.” Cregan said, his voice showing no sign that he actually was sorry.

“It is alright, my lord. He is just a babe. He and I will have time to get to know each other.” You said. Cregan tensed up, suddenly remembering again this union was forever.

“Excuse me, princess.” He said, turning and walking away with Rickon. Your heart sunk a bit. You could start to sense it now, Cregan was not in the slightest invested in your union together. You felt lost, out of place suddenly.

You sat back down at the high table, overwhelmed with nervousness. You bit at your nails and the skin around them, biting until they bled. You missed your mother dearly. Being here, in this room among strangers who didn’t care much for southerners to begin with, made you feel small.

You had sat there for an hour or two, not moving or eating once, save for your cuticles.

Cregan came to you, not noticing your nervous state. If he had noticed, he chose to ignore it. “I’ve put Rickon down… Would you please accompany me to my chambers?”

You looked at him, the nail bed of your thumb resting between your teeth. You nodded, standing and staring at the hall one last time. You locked eyes with a man, who noticed you both about to take your leave.

“Is it time for the bedding ceremony, Lord Stark?” The man asked, erupting a few cheers from the men mostly.

“No!” Cregan nearly barked the order. “There will be no bedding ceremony.”

The men in the crowd shuffled awkwardly at his outburst but accepted.

“Princess.” Cregan said, walking away and not waiting to see if you were following.

You did anyway, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. You had the sense he wanted this to be over with quickly.

He held the door as you both entered his chambers. You took in your surroundings. It was a clean and large kept room with a lit hearth and a large bed. A thought passed your mind, even though you tried to push it down.

Did he share these chambers with her?

Cregan began to take off his armor and furs, again not watching to see if you did the same, only assuming you were. If you weren’t, he didn’t care.

“Um, could you help, my lord?” You asked, referring to the laces of your white wedding dress.

He sighed, walking over to you as you turned your back to him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you tried to hide it.

His hands were gentle with the laces, not tugging at them as you expected him to. He obviously had experience doing this before.

He grew emotional as he undid your dress, but he hid it well. It was a weird sense of deja vu. Your hair looked like hers from the back and he felt like he was back at his first wedding.

You pushed the dress off, revealing the sheer linen soft dress underneath. He hadn’t moved from behind you, trying to maintain his composure. You walked away from him, lying on the bed and biting your nails again.

He finished disrobing besides his briefs, and you stole a glance at his back. It was huge, muscular and scarred.

He walked over to the bed, getting between your legs and pushing up your shift.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” He asks. “We need not consummate this if you are not ready.”

For the first time it seemed like he kinda cared about how you felt. His hand still had a hold of your shift, which was resting on your pelvic bone.

You nodded, “Is it alright with you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, pushing your shift up the rest of the way to reveal your chest. He wanted to fall on his sword for the way he kept stealing glances at your breasts.

He pushed his briefs down, and you choked on your breath at the reveal of his length.

“Oh, gods.” You mumbled under your breath.

He rubbed himself against your slit, and your heart stilled for a minute. The feeling was foreign and intense.

He gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t even realized you were still doing it, it was starting to become like breathing. A natural, unintentional habit.

Your hands fell to his biceps to steady yourself. You looked at him, but he did not meet your gaze. He instead bowed his head, watching himself enter inside you.

You dug your nails into his arm, gasping in shock. He gently shushed you, telling you it was okay.

“Please, please.” You said, not knowing what you were even pleading for.

“What?” He asked gently, his voice low and almost mimicking of your whining. It sent a shiver up your spine.

He was slow and gentle with you, not in it for any pleasure himself.

You touched his chest and his hair and his arms, and while he didn’t stop you he made no effort to touch you himself. His hands rested beside your head, holding up his weight.

Your hands found his arms again and you moaned softly, feeling your peak building in your stomach. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his head, moaning as you spilled onto him. He closed his eyes as he felt it, and guilt wracked him again.

He gently pulled out of you and stood up, immediately dressing himself into his nightwear. You pushed your shift back down and pulled the linen covers over you, immediately going back to biting your nails at his reaction.

He laid beside you, not facing you and not saying anything.

You said nothing, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how he intentionally avoided spilling himself into you.

———

It had been 3 months since your arrival to Winterfell, and you had adjusted as well as you could given the circumstances.

You did not often see your lord husband, but you were used to it. He spent a lot of his free time in the crypt where she was. It hurt, but you gave him his peace and he appreciated that you didn’t hover.

“Mummy!”

“Sh, sh, love.” You say as Rickon runs into your chambers.

Cregan did not like when Rickon called you his mother. He’d gotten upset with you a few times over it, and you assured him you would correct Rickon when it happened.

“Mummy.” He repeated. You giggled. pulling him into your lap. You shook your head and tapped his nose, saying, “Nooo. Not mummy.”

“Mummy.” He laughed, and you ran your fingers through his thick brown curls.

“What ever will we do with this mop on your head, my son?”

“He is not your son.” You turned to see Cregan standing in the door way. “And his hair is fine.”

“Apologies, my lord.” You said, curtly. He ignored your attitude.

“Come, Rickon.” He said, beckoning his son.

“No, mummy.” Rickon whined, holding you.

“Go see papa.” You told him, and with your blessing Rickon ran to Cregan.

Cregan gave you a cold stare as he left, and you returned the favor.

You were growing ever so agitated with your husband. He had welcomed you into Winterfell, but not his heart. The only time you both had shared a bed was the night of your wedding, to which Cregan had made sure not to give you an heir.

You had no one. Rickon had you, Cregan had you even if he did not want you, yet you were alone here in Winterfell.

You decided to write to your mother on Dragonstone, requesting for Jacaerys to pick you up on dragon back so you could visit your family and hopefully receive advice. You had left your dragon, Silverwing, at home. You did not want to disrespect the already hesitant northern people, and you did not want Silverwing to be cold or hungry.

That night when you were brushing your hair before bed, there was a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You looked in the mirror and saw Cregan’s half sister, Sara, enter.

“Hi, Sara.” You said. She came up behind you, taking the brush from your hand and slowly combing it through your hair. You two had formed a unique bond, given you were both considered outcasts in Winterfell. You were a southerner, she was a bastard. They were two sides of the same coin here in Winterfell.

“I heard what happened today.” She said, and you hummed mindlessly. “My brother can be a bastard.”

You smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what to do, Sara.”

“We northerners love hard, princess. We are unwaveringly loyal. The wound of losing Aly is still fresh in my brother’s heart. Give him time. He knows you love Rickon, and that scares him. I don’t know why.”

“Was Aly pretty?” You ask.

“You have a southern beauty we do not see often in the North. Aly was not a beautiful woman, but she was a fierce fighter. That is how history will remember her. She was born fighting, and she died fighting. I know you are a fierce fighter as well, princess. You are the blood of the dragon. Do not let the grief my brother holds make you feel small.” She kisses the back of your head. “Throw a fucking book at his head if he acts like that again.”

You laugh, her joke comforting you. She turns and leaves you alone, your head clouded with thoughts of Aly.

You heard back from Jacaerys within a few days that he would arrive shortly to bring you home. You had not yet told Cregan, as you knew he wouldn’t care anyway.

A few days following the letter from the raven, it was Sara’s name day. Cregan had decided to celebrate with a feast, one bigger than your wedding.

You all sat at the high table, your husband and sister in law drinking heavily. Although Cregan was a big man, the amount of ale he consumed that night seemed enough to kill a horse.

“My princess.” A servant rested her hand on your shoulder. You and Cregan both turned to look at her, and she grew nervous, not expecting Cregan to pay any attention or perhaps she would not have asked the princess the request. “Rickon has had a nightmare and wants no comfort of the maids. He is requesting you by name specifically, princess.”

You turn to look at Cregan for his approval. He gives a quick nod, which you hadn’t expected. Perhaps he only obliged since Rickon had requested you by your name, rather than requesting his “mother.”

You walked with the maid to his chambers, opening the door.

“Mummy.” He said through sniffles. You turned to face the maid.

“I thought he requested me by my name.” You said.

“That is your name, princess… to him.” The maid closed the door.

You turn to face Rickon with a gentle sigh. “You know papa doesn’t like that word.”

“Mummy.” He just says again. You walk to his bed, fitting yourself in to lay with him. He cuddles into your chest, and you play with his hair to help him sleep.

“Say it okay.” He says.

“Hm? What do you mean, child?” You ask.

“She say it okay to call you mummy.”

“Who?”

“Mummy did.”

“No, you have to call me my name, sweet boy.”

“Not you, mummy. My other mummy said it okay.”

“You confuse me, Rickon.”

“Mummy says ignore papa.” You chuckle softly.

“Sleep now, my love.” You say, and he slowly falls asleep while you hum him a soft song.

You rise, tucking him in and giving his head a kiss.

You open his door to return to the feast, and Cregan is there waiting.

You gasp, covering your mouth quickly to not wake Rickon.

“Gods, you scared me!” You whisper/yell at him. He says nothing, his eyes in a glossy and drunken haze.

You close the door, nearly standing chest to chest with him.

“I heard you sing to him.” He says softly. “Where did you learn that song?”

“He taught me it.” You say, as you go to step past him when he stops you.

“Cregan?” You say confused, turning to look up at him.

He takes your cheeks in your hands and slams his lips on yours. You freeze for a second in shock, before immediately returning the kiss. He presses you against the door, and you moan into him as you quickly grow wet with Cregan’s sudden change of behavior.

He moves to press gentle kisses on your neck, biting softly here and there. His fingers dig into your hips, grinding himself into you. You moan softly, trying not to cause too much noise against the door.

“Not here.” You moan. He avoids your eyes, taking your hand and pulling you further down the hall to his chambers. It was only your second time in his room. He lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall.

You both hadn’t even undressed, but you loved the thrill. Your husband finally wanted you after three long grueling months. He pushed your dress up to your waist as you unlaced his breeches.

He took you there against the wall of his chambers, fucking you so sweetly, fucking you in a way that would surely produce an heir.

Your moans filled the halls, and the servants began to spread word that the lord had finally moved on from his first wife.

He carried you to the bed, placing you along the edge as he stood, fucking you with sloppy and drunken thrusts.

You moaned his name, both of you drawing so close to your peak as your hands rested against his stomach. He leaned closed to you as hand moved beside your head to hold his weight, and the other moved under your lower back to lift you slightly off the bed and pull you more into him. The angle sent you over the edge, crying and moaning his name.

Your moans pushed him over, but his next words made you sick.

“Fuck, Alysanne.” He groaned, burying his head in your neck and spilling his seed into you.

You gasped, not even sure you heard him right.

He kissed your neck a few times and then rolled off you, not noticing the look on your face.

You laid there unmoving, still in your dress which was now damp with sweat, and your thighs now sticky with Cregan.

He fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, still in his clothes.

You choked back a sob, moving your hand to your mouth so he wouldn’t waken. In reality, you could’ve started screaming and he wouldn’t have woke, or even shuffled.

You exited his chambers, trying not to be sick on the way to yours.

“My sister!” Sara drunkenly yelled as she seen you in the hallway. She took notice of your disheveled dress and hair. “Oh my gods, did you and Cregan just…?”

You ignored her, but she noticed the tears on your face. “Wait, sister what is wrong? What happened?”

You slammed the door in her face, throwing yourself into your pillow and screaming.

—

“Mother would be furious if she knew you were sleeping this well past sunrise.”

You groaned, lifting your head from the pillow to find the voice in the room.

“Jacaerys?” You said, when your eyes landed on him.

“I take it the feast for Sara Snow was a success.” He says, making fun of you. Your hair was sticking to your face, wet with a mixture of tears and drool.

“I guess you could say that.” You said, wiping your hair to the side.

“You’re disgusting.” He says.

“Gods, five minutes you’ve been here and you already frustrate me! Get out!” You say, both of you immediately teasing and arguing like you had never left home.

You push him out of your room.

“Don’t touch me, wench!” He whines, smacking your arms.

“Piss off! Go harass the bloody Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’d rather harass the Lady.” You push him out of your doors, turning and pressing your back to slide down the wall.

You hear him knock again and you rise to your feet, angry. “Jace, I said-“

You don’t finish your sentence, since as you open the door it’s Sara.

“I wanna talk about last night.”

“I don’t.” You say, going to close the door on her before she pushes it back open.

“What happened?” She asks, angry. She closes the door behind her and follows you to the bed. You sit on the edge and rest your elbows on your thighs, burying your face in your hands.

“Did my brother hurt you?” She asks, worried.

“No, no.”

She rests on her knees in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Tell me what happened.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your tears, but you cannot. “We had sex.”

“Isn’t that good? What went wrong?”

“He called me Alysanne.” You sob out.

“Oh, no.” She says, moving to sit beside you and wrap her arms around you.

“I cannot stay here no longer, Sara. I am being haunted by Alysanne. I find letters she wrote to Cregan, her clothes, her weapons. Rickon thinks I am her and Cregan wishes I was.”

“I am sorry, princess.” She says, sadly. “I thought I knew my brother better than that… Perhaps, if you talk to him about these past few months things can be different. Just give it a try, yes? You have your brother here now. You can leave if things do not work and the marriage can be annulled.”

You did not even wish to think of that possibility. It would be so shameful for both of your houses. You would do everything in your power to make it work.

You cleaned yourself up and went to Cregan’s chambers, knowing he would be hungover.

And you were right.

You entered his room without knocking, finding him in a bath with a warm rag over his eyes. Three times now you’ve been in his chambers.

“You can set it on the table.” He says, not moving the rag.

“What?”

“Oh.” He says, his voice changing in tone. “I thought you were the maid.”

You say nothing, unsure of where to even begin.

“Can whatever you’ve barged into my chambers for wait until I am done.” He asks, only the question is more of a statement.

“No.” You say, angry. You walk over to him and pull the rag off his eyes. He squints at the brightness, then gagging on the air as if he might be sick. “We’re going to talk, Cregan. We’ve been married for months and I don’t think we’ve ever truly had a conversation once. It is all I am asking. You could at least give me that. You’ve given me the cold shoulder for three months, and I’m tired of it. I’ve helped raise your son, I’ve loved you and I’ve cared for you even when you didn’t want it. You owe this to me.”

He sighs, defeated. “You are right in that, my princess. I apologize. We can talk later, alright?”

“No, Cregan. We will talk now.”

“You wouldn’t rather talk when I am of a clear headspace?”

“No. Now.” You say. He sighs again.

“Say your piece.”

The words left your mind the second he said that. You had this conversation in your head many times before, but now it was here and you could not handle the heat of the moment.

He raised his eyebrow at you, as if you were dumb.

“Oh, do not do that. I thought you Starks were supposed to be the most honorable among men. This whole marriage I have been treated with everything but. You are a disrespectful man, Stark. I am truly sorry about Alysanne-“

“Do not speak to me about my wife, ever!” He yells, pointing at you.

“I am your wife!” You cry out. “You chose me, whether you were ready for another marriage or not! I left my home, my family, my dragon to be with you! If I cannot have your love, is it too much to ask for your fucking respect?!”

He goes quiet for a few moments, “You have always had my respect, princess… and I know I have erred in the way I’ve treated you these past moons. But this marriage is just a duty. Nothing more, nothing less. This marriage is not out of love… so do not expect me to love you back.”

You laugh, dryly. “You called me Alysanne last night… Do you remember that? No… I suppose you were too drunk. You never would have touched or cared for me like that sober.”

He says nothing, but his hands grip the side of the tub and his face is contorted with anger. You rise, hiding any sort of emotion on your face.

“The dead don’t need lovers. Only the living.” You said. He threw his rag at the door as you walked out, not even granting him a second glance.

The memories of last night flooded back to him, and he rested his face in his hands, crying at his behavior. He had let down Aly, his son, and you.

He did care about you, he did love you in his own way. He just didn’t know how to show it. He didn’t want to show it. If he had shown it, he only would have betrayed Aly even more.

You went down to the crypt, somewhere you had never gone before. You had no reason originally, no people to mourn.

You stood in front of her plot, staring at the statue of her. She had been a skinny girl, with long dark hair and ‘plain’ features. You thought she was a beauty in her own way. You saw why Cregan loved her.

You cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Your hand touched her statue, then you stood and left the crypt.

You said goodbye to Rickon, Sara, and then you left with your brother on dragon back, ready to be home with your true family.

———

“You’re a fucking fool, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that? Gods.” Cregan rested his head in his hands. He had sent every raven in Winterfell to Dragonstone, yet not one had responded in the weeks since you’d left.

“We’ll be lucky if the bloody queen doesn’t declare war on us for you scorning her daughter.”

“I am trying here, Sara! I’ve sent my ravens, I’ve sent men to retrieve her. There is nothing more I can do!”

Sara slammed her hands on the table. “Go and get her your bloody self, Cregan. The trip to Dragonstone will give you plenty of time for reflection.”

Sara turned to leave, and Cregan knew it was his only option of getting you back here. He would go and get you and make things right. He had to.

You had your own time for reflection, riding home with Jacaerys made you realize how much you missed being on dragon back.

Your mother of course welcomed you with open arms, but was wracked with guilt that you and Cregan’s union was not working. You paid it no mind however, spending your days patrolling Dragonstone on Silverwing.

Cregan had taken his horse and a few men to retrieve you from Dragonstone. The trip by horse was long, more than several weeks.

The entire time he rode in silence he thought of you. He thought of your last conversation and the final words you had said to him. The dead don’t need lovers. And you were right. Alysanne would not have wished to see him treat you how he had, she would not have wanted Cregan to spend his time sulking or being angry. He only wished he had realized it before he left.

He loved you. If only it hadn’t taken you leaving for him to realize. You were kind, gentle, beautiful. Traits Alysanne didn’t have but it was what seperated you from her. It had been how he was able to find his own kind of love for you, even when he didn’t consciously realize it yet. His own bitterness from losing Aly had made forget his honor.

Cregan arrived about two moons after you had left. He was aching, frustrated, and desperate by the time he reached Dragonstone.

It was dark, pouring rain, and you were playing with your brothers Viserys and Aegon when he arrived.

“Your Grace!” A knight came into the room shouting. Your mother looked up from her book. “Cregan Stark of Winterfell has arrived and requests an immediate audience with you and the princess.”

Your mother looked at you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart sank and your face went pale, but you nodded.

You met him inside the council chambers with your mother and his men. He was soaked, shivering. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, that was how nervous you were.

“Cregan.” You said, walking towards him and pushing him by his arms to the hearth to warm him up. It was another thing he loved about you, your protective nature, so he said it.

“I love you.”

“Cregan…”

“Love her?” You both looked at your mother, whose face was angry. “You love my daughter?”

“Your Grace.” Cregan said, removing his sword and bending his knee. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.”

She walked towards you both. “It is not mine you need to beg for… I sent my only daughter to you, and you spurn her for your dead wife?!”

“Mother!”

“You will not interrupt the Queen when she is speaking.” She commands you. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lord Stark?”

He stands. “I have nothing to say, Your Grace. You are right. My behavior was unacceptable. The princess deserved none of it.”

“Why are you here?” Your mother asks him.

“I’ve come to ask the princess to return home.” Your mother scoffs at him.

She looks at you, then back to him. “You are lucky it is not my decision to make.”

She turns and exits, leaving and commanding his men to wait outside the doors so you both could be alone.

You were even more nervous with just the two of you in there. It is silent for a few moments before you speak.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” You ask Cregan.

“It took you leaving for me to realize I love you.” He says, taking your hands in his. You roll your eyes, taking your hands back and stepping away.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, starting to sob.

“I know, I know.” He steps closer to you again, taking you in his arms as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Cregan.” You say, crying. “Since I was a girl I loved you. I thought you were different from other men. But, you’re just like the rest.”

Cregan cries into your hair. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

You both stand there, holding each other and crying.

“Please come home.” He says. “Let me take you home.”

“Rickon misses his mother, Sara misses her sister… I miss you, you my wife.”

You pull away to look at him, trying to read his normally stoic features. You can see he means it.

“Okay.”

———

You returned to Winterfell on Silverwing, no longer having the strength to remain apart from your dragon.

Cregan had to endure another long and grueling trip back to Winterfell, which you enjoyed knowing he was suffering while you road through the skies.

Rickon had cried tears of joy when you returned, and a week later when Cregan arrived Rickon cried again.

You and Cregan had remained in seperated chambers while you still navigated your marriage, but Cregan made a point to spend every moment of his free time with you.

But you had been keeping a secret from him.

After you returned home to Dragonstone originally, your blood never arrived. The maester determined you were with a babe, which would arrive several moons away in the dead of winter.

Your thick furs and dresses made it easier to hide from Cregan, as you were not ready to tell him.

The babe had complicated things. If you had not been pregnant, you might not have returned to Winterfell when Cregan came for you. But you knew you had a duty, and you believed if Cregan could love you then you could fix your union.

Cregan had indeed put the work in the second he arrived home. He attended to you, conversed with you, ate with you, laughed with you, but gave you the space you needed and gave you the option to be intimate with him when you were ready.

It was strangely like falling in love all over again. You blushed around each other, got nervous and flushed, made each other’s hearts race, shared a first kiss when you were both ready.

Cregan had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with you, and he regretted not taking the time to do it sooner. He couldn’t make up the time he lost being afraid. All he could do now was love you without guilt, love you without fear, love you without shame.

Normally Cregan always knocked on your chamber doors before entering, but for some reason this time he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t knock, he didn’t know if it happened unconsciously or if he was too busy wrapped up with his thoughts.

Either way, he entered without knocking and by that point the cat was out of the bag.

He said your name, greeting you with a smile, only for it to fall off his face as if it had never been there.

You were in the bath, relaxing in the burning water, but that wasn’t the problem. He’d seen you naked, although it hadn’t been for a few months by this point, but him accidentally invading your privacy wasn’t the problem either.

It was the bump in your belly that was a problem.

Your head turned sharply, covering your chest quickly. “Cregan!”

“Sorry.” He said quickly, turning around to avoid disrespecting you.

“It’s fine.” You said, dropping your arm from your chest. “You just gave me a fright.”

He said nothing for a moment, only continuing to face the wall.

“What is that?” He finally asked. You sighed, stepping out of the tub and into your robe.

You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face you now, and his eyes fell down to your other hand resting on the small bump in your stomach.

“Perhaps it’s time we talk.”

“You think?” He spits at you, immediately apologizing after. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be cross with you.”

You said nothing, walking over to the seats by the hearth hoping he would follow.

He did, and he sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your belly.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach. You nodded, untying your robe so that you were bare. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to the small bump.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have accommodated for you, made sure you were comfortable.”

“Truth be told it’s been hard for me to accept I’m truly with a child.” You say, “The reality had not set in until… well until you just now found out... I am sorry, Cregan. I should not have kept it from you.”

He chokes back a sob. “Feels like just yesterday Alysanne had Rickon.”

“He will be overjoyed to know he will have a little brother or sister.” You tell him. He looks at you, his face full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and before you can even finish nodding your head, you’re already leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much, my wife.” He says in between kisses.

His hand did not move once from your stomach the whole night.

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navybrat817 · 3 months

Text

Fall for Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he's good enough for you, but still wishes he could be your guy. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Longing, insecurities, "just friends" (for now), Steve is a good friend, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: We'll call this a Friday Feels inspired by a nonnie.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a special kind of torture for Bucky to watch the person he loved flirt with someone else.

To be fair, he couldn't say for sure that you were flirting. Being friendly? Yes. You had a warm and welcoming personality, the kind he was drawn to the moment you two crossed paths months ago. One of the things he loved about you was how genuine you were. It was only natural that you pulled others in as well. Your compassion, charm, beauty, everything called to him.

You were the whole package, inside and out.

“What the hell am I doing here?” He muttered. He hadn't wanted to go to the bar, but Steve assured him it was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place. Not a lot of patrons on a night like this. Somewhere no one would bother them. He added at the last second that you were going.

Bucky grabbed his leather jacket to go as soon as those words left Steve’s mouth.

Instead of having a drink with you like he wanted or just talking, he simmered in silence in a booth while you stood at the bar. He narrowed his eyes as the guy you were talking to moved an inch closer. A bit too close for his liking.

Steve said his name was Will. They had met each other at some point in passing. Short blonde hair and a trimmed beard. Ex-military, but still built like he had a war to fight. Behind the guy’s blue eyes lurked pain, guilt, and regret that most would miss due to his general stoic demeanor. Bucky could relate all too well to horrors that haunted even the strongest of men.

But when Will looked at you, his eyes lit up. They held a sense of longing. Hope.

Once again, Bucky could relate all too well because that was how he looked at you.

“You’re doing that staring thing again,” Steve said, grabbing a beer from the bucket and setting it down in front of him. “Just talk to her.”

Bucky took a swig, but didn't take his eyes off you. He was afraid if he looked away that Will might convince you to leave with him. “Talk to her about what?”

His best friend sighed. “You know what.”

Steve knew how he felt about you. Talking about his feelings wasn't easy, but he had to tell his best friend. And it wasn't the first time Steve encouraged him to speak up. He said you had the right to know so the two of you could figure out how to move forward, whether as a couple or just friends, instead of dancing around it.

But how could Bucky admit how he felt when he didn't deserve someone like you?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

“We're friends,” Bucky stated. The words tasted as bitter as the beer he sipped. No, not bitter. He couldn't feel that way just because he had a piece of you when he wanted all of you.

Was he selfish for that?

He nearly shattered the bottle in his hand when you giggled at whatever Will said. Something akin to jealousy settled in his chest and he had no right to feel that way. The two of you weren't together. You were single and didn't owe him a thing.

But he knows if you gave him a chance, he’d treat you well. Better than any other guy before him. He would do his best to make you happy. Maybe that wasn't enough.

“Will is a good guy, but he isn't you, Buck. You’re still one of the best guys I know,” Steve said.

“You don't have to kiss my ass, punk,” he muttered, immediately regretting it. He was only trying to help and God knows he had done more than enough for him over the years.

Steve shook his head. “And you don't have to feel sorry for yourself, jerk.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. Maybe he was. He was sorry for so many things.

As if you sensed his sadness, you looked over your shoulder and met his gaze. You smiled at him, the kind of smile that stole the very breath from his lungs and made his head spin. He wanted to believe it was a smile you reserved only for him. And the softness in your beautiful eyes, he imagined he could see his future in them.

Could you see the endless love he had for you in his?

His heart ached when you turned away and put your hand on Will’s arm. Of course, you were attracted to the guy. Why wouldn’t you be? The thought of you kissing him though, being intimate with him? He felt sick enough to finally look away.

Bucky glanced at his distorted reflection in the beer bottle. A long time ago, he would've called himself handsome. Not because he was full of himself, but because he knew himself then. He knew how to walk the line between confidence and cockiness. He was full of life and wonder once. Now the weight of his sins showed in how he carried himself.

Sins you never judged him for.

“Jamie? Are you okay?”

Steve nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was so lost in his mind that he hadn’t heard you call out to him. He should’ve known since you were the only one who called him Jamie. When he looked up from his seat, he saw that you were no longer standing next to Will as he was still at the bar. And there was nothing but concern in your gaze as you set your drink down on the table.

“What? What happened?” He asked, not smooth at all.

Your eyes flickered to Steve and then back at him. “I asked if you’re okay. You don’t look too well.”

“Not feeling so great,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. “This place…”

“Oh,” you said, sliding into the booth beside him. He inhaled, your sweet scent soothing the pain in his heart and making it race all at once. “Well, why don’t we head out? There’s no reason to stay if you don’t want to stay.”

He gently smiled. You were always willing to go with the flow and change plans if things ever got too loud or too much for him. “I’m fine. Besides, you just got your drink and you haven’t had a chance to play pool with Sam or Natasha,” he argued. He didn’t want to spoil your night.

You put your hand on his arm, but it seemed different than when you touched Will’s arm. This was tender, soothing. “If being here is making you uncomfortable, then I don’t feel like sticking around. They’ll understand. Steve, please, back me up on this.”

“She’s right. You two should go,” Steve said, conveniently leaving himself and the others out of the equation.

Bucky spared Will a glance, who was now talking to the guys he went into the bar with. He swallowed hard before the next words left his mouth. “What about your new friend?”

“You are my friend, Jamie,” you said. He winced inwardly at the reminder. Friends. You were just friends. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s just go. How about a movie at your place? Something low-key so you feel better.”

“You sure?” He asked, wondering just how eager he looked to leave with you.

“I’m sure,” you smiled, making his heart warm again.

“Okay. You convinced me,” he said. Not that it would’ve taken much. Your smile could bend the will of just about anyone.

“You know, I hear healthy conversations are also good to help people feel better,” Steve chimed in, earning an elbow to the side from Bucky.

You raised an eyebrow and slid out of the booth. “Yeah. Sure. Jamie and I can have a healthy conversation and you all enjoy the rest of the night.” You offered Bucky a hand to help him out. He didn’t want to let go. “C’mon. We have a movie waiting for us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky teased, proud of himself when you giggled.

Steve gave him an optimistic smile and he couldn’t help but return it. He wasn’t sure if Will had given you his number or if you planned to see him, but maybe he’d take a chance and tell you he had fallen for you. Maybe, if he was lucky, you had fallen for him, too.

Just maybe.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be a thing? Did Will give you his number? Will Bucky say how he feels? What's going to happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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propertyofwicked · 3 months

Text

SMITTEN - LN

ln x reader, platonic!grid x reader SMAU

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open ✧

warnings: none, just a little swearing throughout - also she's a short one

masterlist the playlist

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

yourusername made a new post!

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 21,223 others

yourusername 10 years ago today, i competed in my final karting race in order to pursue my dream career - and i would do it all over again, especially when i still get to spend my days with these losers

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, pierregasly

view all 5,421 comments

maxverstappen1 losers?? i think you mean losers and three time world champion, no?

⤷ yourusername they're not mutually exclusive

charles_leclerc proud of everything you've achieved mon amour

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yourusername made a new post!

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 21,223 others

yourusername thank you mclaren for having me today! trying to get the drivers to sit down and answer my questions may have shaved a few years from my life but i had fun regardless!

check out the video on youtube now!

view all 5,421 comments

mclaren thank you for babysitting! 🧡

⤷ yourusername id say anytime but the curly haired one kept asking "why" after every sentence :/

⤷ landonorris babysitting? nah, milf training comment has been deleted

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landonorris was lovely to see you! stop by anytime 🧡

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oscarpiastri 🧡

yourusername made a new post!

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 12,358 others

yourusername taking a break from being your favourite journalist to become the ultimate stray cat whisperer

view all 2,381 comments

francisca.cgomes you look so gorgeous meu bem ❤️

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⤷ oscarpiastri pretty sure i just heard him meow honestly

landonorris hi! im free june 24 if you want to hangout june 24 lmk im not doing anything june 24 please msg me if ur available june 24 so we could maybe hangout or do something june 24 !!

⤷ charles_leclerc lando please stop you're embarrassing youself

⤷ maxverstappen1 no charles, let him cook

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username8 she's so beautiful i dont know if i wanna be her or with her

⤷ landonorris i know what im chosing

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⤷ landonorris yes ma'am 🫡

⤷ yourusername ma'am??? im 2 years older than you not 20

yourusername made a new post!

liked by landonorris, francisca.cgomes , and 23,139 others

yourusername test drive

view all 6,581 comments

username3 test drive? THE CAR OR LANDO?

⤷ username12 that is not lando - surely???

charles_leclerc its june 24th.

⤷ pierregasly he's only gone and done it

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username7 what car do you drive?

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yourusername made a new post!

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and 23,139 others

yourusername back to work, and back to mercedes for the first time in a while! keep your eyes peeled for some race week content coming your way!

tagged: lewishamilton, georgerussell63

view all 1,372 comments

georgerussell63 right well that's just cruel y/n. please violate lewis JUST ONCE

⤷ yourusername lewis didn't have a habit of running me off the track repeatedly

⤷ georgerussell63 that was ONCE. 14 YEARS AGO.

⤷ yourusername that's a strange way of apologising

⤷ username14 sometimes i forget she used to kart with like half of the grid

⤷ username14 like girly out here interviewing her childhood friends every week

mercedesamgf1 i feel like we need context for the last image, y/n

⤷ yourusername there are some things you will never know, admin

landonorris come back to mclaren tf?

⤷ yourusername soon 🤫

username4 lewis actually took part in social content? don't give me false hope i beg of u

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⤷ landonorris wrong. ill get worse! hope that helps x

yourusername made a new post!

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 42,601 others

yourusername cats out the bag

view all 2,671 comments

landonorris milf.

⤷ yourusername im not a mother??

⤷ landonorris *yet.

username3 wait how short is she? 'cos lando is not that tall i SWEAR

maxverstappen1 don't you mean...cougar?

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lilymhe that should be me holding ur hand

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⤷ landonorris devoured.

username15 does he not get bored of you asking him questions all the time?

⤷ yourusername not really, 'cos when i run out of work related questions i spiral into asking if he's mad at me every 20 minutes

⤷ username6 honestly so real for that

#formula 1 #lando norris #mclaren #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando smut #lando x reader #f1 smau #f1 grid x reader #oscar piastri #propertyofwicked #lando norris smau

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allbark-no-bite · 4 months

Text

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction.

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x y/n #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson smut #challengers imagine #challengers x reader

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divinesolas · 2 months

Text

Your Reflection

summary: rq; when the thoughts jacaerys has had his whole life finally can no longer be pushed down he seeks comfort in you

jacaerys targaryen x non targ!reader

w.c: 1.7k

c.w: just a lot of fluff, angst and some minor smut (oral)

perm jace taglist ! (open) @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 1 @jacesvelaryons s @earth4angels @itsemohours @valdezthg

your head whips around at the slam of your room and you stand with wide eyes at the red eyed prince letting out shaky breaths as he swiftly makes his way towards you.

“jace.”

he pulls you into him and falls onto the bed where he lays on top of you, shoving his head into your neck while he lets out weak sobs. “she is being unreasonable” you place your head in his hair while letting out a deep breath. You knew well of his distain for his mothers idea him having ranted for far too long to you about it earlier that same day, to have the low born men and women attempt to claim dragons. bastards.

it was sensitive for him. you knew this far too well. He had gone to try and convince her to change her mind but clearly he had failed and you tried to come up with words that could bring him comfort. “does she not see how foolish this is? to let those people walk amongst us? those those…” he pulls his head away to look at you as he struggles to speak, his face clearly tormented and painful. “they are undeserving. unworthy. they are mongrels and monsters. born out of wedlock believing themselves to be fit for a role they were not made for,”

“are you talking about them or are you talking about yourself?”

he gulps at your words and his eyes well up, “what claim do i have if they claim a dragon? i do not have the hair, the skin, i am a fraud and everyone knows it. I am mere moments away from being stripped of everything i have left.” his head falls onto your chest as his chest heaves up and down with heavy breaths. “i cannot imagine how you feel. the shame you must feel walking down the halls and people staring at you, married to a bastard.”

You grip his face and make him look at you. Hes shocked to see the furry and angry on your face. “i will hear no more of this. you are jacaerys targaryen son of queen rhaenyra taragryen. heir to the iron throne nobody will contest that not. don’t you dare insinuate i am insulted or shamed to be seen with you it is an honor. everyday i wake up blessed to know i married such an honorable and truthful man and i would have it no other way.”

at this point tears are pouring down his face as he shakes his head finding himself refusing to listen to your words. “you could not possibly mean such a thing.” he whines ever so slightly when you bring your lips to his face and kiss the tears off his face, closing his eyes and he refuses to look at you. “i mean it and more. there is no other better man than you. your heritage means nothing to me. should anybody contest that remember you are a targaryen. they shall pay for their contestation with fire and blood.”

he says nothing in return, simply laying his head on your chest while silent tears continue to run down his face. you did not wish to push him to speak, your hands find the back of his head and play with his hair ever so slightly.

“what if they do contest it?” you peer down at him but he continues to stare at the lit fire in your fire pit. “what if after my mother dies they argue and fight and usurp my throne right under me as they have done her? what if there is another war and more people get hurt what if you,,,” His words end up choked up in his throat as he shakes with sobs, you cant help but feel your own eyes begin to water. He’s scared. just a scared young man who doesn’t wish to lose anyone or anything else.

one of your hands soothe his back as you press a kiss to his forehead while your other one cups his face to wipe away his tears. you cannot say anything to console him, knowing this is an issue that runs deeper into his consciousness than you will ever be able to fix by your lonesome. So when you roll him off you he sits up and stares at you in horror as you begin to walk off. his mouth shakily opens to call after you to beg you to stay but his words die on his tongue and he can just let out a meek gasp.

When you arrive back into the room he has his head in his hands while he cries into them. He looks up at you when you place a leather bag next to and tries to catch his breath. His pupils bounce around your face as your hands grab his top and begin to pull it off of him. He allows you, making no move to stop you despite his confusion. “lay on your stomach.” He pauses sniffing as he folds his hands in his lap. When he doesn’t move your cup his face and press a light kiss against his furrowed brows.

He silently pulls away and rolls to lay on his back as you had asked. He has no clue what you’re doing and almost turns to ask you after theres been no movement or talking from you for a bit until he feels you straddle his back and your hands begin to run through his hair. He can smell the oil on your fingers as you delicately run them throughout his curls. He lets out a pleased hum as your nails scratch into his head.

he does not say anything simply allowing you to shower him in affections he normally does not allow you to. cooing at him and pecking all over his back and head. As you move down to massage his neck and back he finds himself overwhelmed with the display of affection and love you’re showering him with he has no clue what to do or say.

Hes even more so embarrassed when you flip him around and he’s hard as a rock. Hes not even feeling sexual in that moment but he’s body is flighting against him. He whines slightly and wishes he could explain himself but he cant. You dont seem to mind. simply dripping more oil onto his skin and working your hands to ease his tension.

He closes his eyes and tries to will it away while you continue to press kisses onto his chest and stomach but if anything it only gets worse at your pure display of love. He hopes he is not ruining this just as he ruins everything. He has never felt so loved in his life he has never felt so at peace since before the war he wants to live in this feeling forever.

His eyes shoot open when you tug his pants down his legs leaving him completely bare and he looks at you alarmed. You say nothing however simply eyeing him as you kiss around his thighs and massage the parts your lips are not. He is breathless as he watches you. When you suddenly stop your movements and look at him he does not know what to do. “i,, shouldn’t i,,, you should,,” The look you have on your face as him stumbling and stuttering over his words. He’s never like this. He would never allow you to do this to him normally. He would insist he get you off first or even outright forbid you to even do something like this more content with pleasing you.

Yet he cant help but be greedy today, the self centered part of him wins and he finds himself nodding to you. He will regret this later he knows he will but when you peck light kissing along his throbbing cock he throws his head back with a moan without a care in the world. His hands grip at the sheets under him when you tongue at his slit slurping up some of his precum before wrapping your lips fully around him.

He understands why some men who are less honorable as he seek out these pleasures often and he almost wishes he allowed you do to this more often. When your hands come to cup and play with his balls his legs shake and he whimpers. He swears he’s going to rip the bedsheets the way he’s gripping at them. His face burns slightly in humiliation and more so in pleasure. sweat drips down the sides of his forehead into his newly oiled hair as he hips uncontrollable thrust up into your mouth where he spews out and apology but you simply hum around him sending another shiver up his spine.

his whole body is shaking with pleasure. He had already been sensitive and relaxed from your overwhelming intimacy he can barely control himself now. he finds himself chanting your name mixed and mumbled with i love you’s. He releases unexpectedly after some louder groans and moans and his eyes well up again as he watches you swallow it down. “im sorry im sorry.” even when he does allow you to do this he never lets himself release in your mouth fearing it may be too much for you and usually just allows himself to spend on your chest.

You climb up to him and press a loving kiss against his lips. He does not mind he can taste himself on your lips as he presses his lips firmly back against yours. The action speaking louder than any words could. He insist he should do something for you in return but the way his eyes droop and struggle to stay open you know he is mere moments from falling asleep. You smile at him and peck his cheek as you shake your head at him. He tries to argue with falters under your comforting hands and sweet nothings into his ear.

He settles with a faint smile on his face the first one you’ve seen on him in many moons. when you rub your hands on his chest he falls asleep at the comfort but not being letting another i love you slip through his lips. His smile grows when he hears you return it before drifting off to sleep where he knows he’ll meet you there too

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miirohs · 4 months

Text

all yours, all mine [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader wc: 1.3k cw: again, slight yandere/possesive tendencies, allusion to abuse an: guys i am feeling uninspired lately,,,, needed to pull everything in me for this one. sigh. its 2 in the morning what am i doing with my life i need to sleep not be up to this bs GODDDDDDD strike me down.

Charles knew you weren’t truly his wife.

He himself had shot his bride to be, too loud and too lecherous to realize how she’d met her end, bragging about killing him for his money in his club.

He thought that’d be the last of it, that their family wouldn’t be brave enough to show face again.

Yet, they became audacious, sending him a woman, a woman who was nothing like the bride he had seen.

Hell, you didn’t even look the same as the other.

There was no way their family didn’t know by now that he was the one who killed their only daughter, yet he could only imagine this was their attempt at faking normalcy because he’d never seen his bride before, right?

He laughed, in all honesty.

He could’ve played along, see what would’ve happened, and have been done with you by dinner if he wanted to. But part of him wanted you to show your true colors, to be able to kill the venomous woman hiding behind the veil.

That day never came though.

He was too baffled by the sight of you clinging to their sides, eyes down as you could barely keep up in the shoes slightly too big to be yours.

He pretended not to notice.

At dinner he questioned you, much to your visible discomfort. He could see the glances you gave the other members of your supposed family, meekly responding back as they glared sharply at your head, only smiling when they noticed his stares. It didn’t take long for him to connect two and two.

It was there and then he’d made the awfully irrational decision to go forward with the marriage. He wanted to pull you out of your shell, see who you really were under the supposed mask you had on in front of everyone.

Your marriage was a grand affair, bosses from all around the globe visiting just to see the ceremony. He had refused to give in to their demands for a smaller wedding, going all out just for you.

And true to his word, he treated you with more respect than he’d ever cared to show anyone else. For him, hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks as he tried to pull you out of your shell.

It was a while before he got the first laugh out of you. He felt like he’d won everything when you gave him small smiles. He did everything to get them out of you. Showering you in lavish gifts, surprising you with expensive dates, it made him feel like he was finally doing something right.

Seeing your full smile was what truly made it worth it, easing the pain of your time with your former family, if he could even call them that.

He’d made sure to cut all contact with them, and he knew you were contacting them against his wishes, so he took it into his own hands to make sure they couldn’t bother you for a single cent again. He plotted behind your back and as sorry as he felt for lying to you, he paid for his guilt in consuming you with his neediness, wrapping you tightly from your waking moments almost as if you’d disappear forever if you left his field of vision.

You didn’t question it, but you couldn’t lie and say it didn’t startle you a bit.

He hummed as you gently ran your fingers through his hair, pit forming in your stomach as you heard him mutter in Italian on the phone, pen scratching against the paper of his notepad.

You heard the bare sentences of his conversation, too fast for you to understand, but you thought you had a good idea of what he was planning.

“Dovremo metterli a tacere (We'll have to silence them)-”

A couple heartbeats passed as he listened, your heart clenching almost painfully as you held the cuff of his suit jacket between your thumb and index finger. Maybe he had figured it out, maybe he was already plotting ways to dispose of you for tricking him in such a grievous manner. You hadn’t heard from the family in weeks, and it made you anxious.

“Non sono d'accordo? Bene, uccideteli (they won’t agree? fine, kill them).”

For a moment there, you didn’t see your husband, but the Devil of Monte Carlo.

He didn’t say anything, and you couldn’t bring yourself to, letting your hand slip away from his crown.

“Y/n? What happened?” He frowned, hand rubbing against the small of your back.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, words lying on the tip of your tongue as he cocked his head at you.

“It’s nothing.” You moved your hands away from his neck, balling into little fists in your lap.

“It’s not nothing,” He pressed, staring you down firmly despite the gentle tone of his voice. He knew you, almost too well.

“I… i don’t know how to tell you. You’re going to hate me if I do.” Your voice warbled out as he kissed you on the neck, too light and breezy to mean anything serious.

“Try me. You’d be surprised at how well I take things, and I'm not unreasonable.” Another kiss, leading up the column of your neck as you squealed at the feeling of his warm lips on cooled skin.

“Well, uh, i-” He bit down lightly, earning a soft smack from you in the back of the head, “-Char, what are you doing?”

“Trying to cheer you up.” He said, kissing on the spot he’d bit with an incomparable amount of gentleness.

“I just have something to tell you and i-”

“Is it important in any way that actively harms our lives?” He butt in, giving you a curious look.

“No, but-”

“Then I don't care.” He shrugged, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You didn’t even know you could’ve gotten that loud, when you finally spit it out.

“I’m not your real wife, Char. I never was.”

He didn’t say anything, humming against the crown of your head as his hand snuck up your back and held you closer to him.

“Char, please.”

“I knew that, this isn’t new news.”

You held on, mouth gaping slightly.

“You… you knew this whole time, and you-”

“I deliberately didn’t tell you.” He scoffed, pulling your chin down to look at him. “I knew you’d run back to that so-called family that I did if I had told you. You barely trusted me, and it was their fault. So that’s why I'm going to make sure all of them take a nice long vacation.”

You couldn’t really feel the abject horror anymore, melting into sheer relief as you finally looked at him once more.

There was something about the way he looked at you, tantalizing and hypnotized almost.

‘But, aren’t you mad about me…?”

“Oh I was, I was furious.”

His lips ghosted over yours, the hint of a smile somewhere there.

“But they ended up giving me something all the more precious, something I couldn't replace. You know what that is, mon amour?”

You didn’t even have to say it, as he kissed you, lips smooth against your slightly chapped ones. The expensive perfume grew stronger, closer and closer to you as the space between you closed.

“I’ve done some unspeakable things.” He panted quietly against your lips, landing another soft kiss on the other corner. “But nothing as unspeakable as killing your so-called “family” this late in the game. Some part of me wishes i had done it earlier to spare you that grief.”

You didn’t respond but he continued nonetheless, hands wrapped around your waist to bring you closer to him .”Remember that you're mine and I'm all yours. I would do anything for you.”

And the worst part is, somewhere deep down, you knew it to be true. He was always yours, and you were always his. He'd made sure of it, and you weren't entirely complaining.

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ohisms · 3 months

Text

↪ 𝑽𝑨𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 . ( a collection of sentence starters from the 2004 film . adjust phrasing as necessary . mature themes present . )

oh , [ name ] . it's just you .

where are you going to run , [ name ] ?

what are you saying ?

why do you think i brought you here ?

you said you believed in my work .

i would kill myself before helping in such a task .

you've been so kind to me , [ name ] .

you can't kill me , [ name ] .

so , you're the great [ name ] .

we all have our little problems .

let's make it your decision , shall we ?

i wish you a week in hell .

why don't you do something about it ?

this is all a test of faith .

i can curse all i want , dammit .

you . turn around .

strangers don't last long here .

the laws of men mean little to me .

i don't need your help .

you stay here . they're trying to kill me .

nice to see you too , [ name ] .

did i do something to you in a past life ?

i hope you do have a heart , [ name ] . because someday i'd like to drive a stake through it .

your reputation precedes you .

i am hollow ! and i will live ... forever .

please , say you will not try again .

do not fear me ... everybody else fears me .

i was unprepared . it won't happen again .

do you understand forgiveness ?

i would rather die than help you .

don't be boring , everyone who says that always dies .

may he rest in peace .

how long has it been , 300 , 400 years ?

you don't remember , do you ?

what exactly is it i am to be remembering ?

it's no surprise you would know all about me .

we have such history , you and i .

have you ever wondered why you have such horrific nightmares ?

[ name ] , it's alright , i'm taking you home .

what , did you think we haven't tried everything before ?

no one knows how to kill [ name ] .

i could have used that information earlier .

would you like me to refresh your memory a little ?

allow me to ... reintroduce myself .

i think we've overstayed our welcome .

don't give me that look .

you were right . i'm sorry .

monster ? who's the monster here ? i have done nothing wrong !

look , there's still time .

you were right . i'm sorry .

do you have any family , [ name ] ?

if you value your lives , and the lives of your kin , you will kill me .

evil may have created it , may have left its mark on it , but evil does not rule it .

now you know why they call me a murderer .

oh my god ... you've been bitten .

so much trouble ... so much trouble .

now you will become that which you hunted so passionately . may others be as passionate in their hunting of you .

don't worry , god will forgive us .

how many commandments can we break in one day ?

oh my god , you should be terrified .

how does it feel to be a puppet on my string ?

neither of us has ever settled for half .

you make my skin crawl .

i'm not gonna like this , am i ?

one brief moment of pain , and we can be together forever .

you have no heartbeat .

you are nothing but damned bones , and damned souls .

well , that doesn't sound like a good thing .

we don't have a choice . just don't get killed .

you don't understand , it doesn't matter what happens to me .

god is not the only one that can create life .

you can't go until i say you can go , and i say you can go when you're dead !

you're supposed to die .

we are both part of the same great game , [ name ] , we just find ourselves on opposite sides of the board .

you are being used , [ name ] , as was i . but i escaped , so can you .

if you're going to kill someone , kill them . don't stand there talking about it .

all i want is life . the continuation of my kind .

some things are better left forgotten .

#ohisms #rp meme #inbox meme #inbox prompts #vampire prompts

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yazis · 2 months

Text

✰ HEART STEALER

summary: whilst on your vacation in fontaine you accidentally end up in jail. luckily, a certain someone is going to make your trip down to the fortress worthwhile

pairing: wriothesley x gn!reader

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers sort of

word count: 6.2k

notes: not proofread, reader isn’t from fontaine and works in mondstadt (hints at reader working with albedo), reader is also a bit slow and wriothesley isn't any help, set after archon quest

after spending four days down at the fortress of meropide, you could confidently say it sucked.

the accommodations, the food, the people, the faint smell of oil and grease always lingering around, it was a major downgrade from the hotel you had been staying in previously.

you had originally come to fontaine for a vacation that your boss back in mondstadt insisted you needed. and now you were going to have to spend most of it in prison.

all you had done, was eat ketchup on its own. that’s all. nothing more, nothing less, it wasn't even that big of a deal. when you had finished your dinner at the hotel one day, there was some remaining ketchup left. you weren't going to let it go to waste so, naturally, you ate the ketchup on its own.

never would you have thought such a law to exist, and even so you never would have deemed it a heinous crime. and yet, during the trial at the opera epiclese the fontainians made you seem like a heartless villain.

sighing you sat down at the coupon cafeteria at an empty table placing your free meal down. it already reeked.

by the time my twenty-day sentence is over, i’ll only have three days of my vacation left... you thought.

in the fortress of meropide, the inmate that led you on your tour upon first arriving explained that you would have to work in the 'production zone' everyday and you only got one free welfare meal a day.

with that information you decided it'd be best to skip out on breakfast and dinner and have your meal at lunch. all your other time you spent working in the production zone under grainville's supervision. the work was at least easier than all the expeditions in dragonspine you'd have to go on with your boss.

that, essentially, was your routine for the four days you had spent here. you didn't want to get in trouble again for some stupid reason so you made sure to keep to the rules.

opening your welfare meal for the day, you were met with the same disgusting grey sludge that had greeted you yesterday and the day before. you immediately put the lid back on.

since you had step foot in the fortress, you hadn’t eaten a single thing and you honestly felt famished. it wasn’t your fault that everything was practically inedible.

you rested your chin on your hand, sighing yet again for the nth time today. you were considering just skipping lunch entirely, it wasn't like you were eating anything anyway.

when you first stepped foot in the fortress, you told yourself you should try and make the most out of your trip here, think of it as an experience, an extra vacation. but it was as if there was something you were missing.

most of the other inmates looked as if they were living the life down at the fortress of meropide. your isolated table was surrounded by others who were happily chatting away, with scrummier meals than you as well.

am i doing something wrong? how can anyone be genuinely happy here?

you thought, pushing away you’re own meal box in disgust and staring longingly at someone else’s meal that looked as if it belonged in hotel debord. the sight alone was enough to fill a fraction of the hunger inside you.

i guess this will just have to do...

“not a fan of the food, huh?” a voice suddenly spoke and you jumped slightly looking up to see a man sitting opposite you on your once lonely table.

one glance at the man and you already knew you did not want to deal with him. you had already ran into a couple of inmates, they either ignored you because they didn’t care or gave you a hard time just because.

this man, looked as if he was ready to do the latter.

well, i shouldn’t judge a book by it's cover…

he had messy black hair with grey streaks along with piercing blue eyes. with the way his arms were crossed you could see his muscles flex but also the various scars on them. he also had numerous scars around his neck and one just underneath his right eye.

you’d be lying if you said he was unattractive, you definitely would've noticed someone like him by now so you wondered why you hadn't seen him before.

“well, maybe i’d eat it if it at least looked edible.” you responded watching him in front of you, still taking in his whole appearance.

maybe... he's new here too? why else would he come talk to me?

at your response the man raised a brow, taking in your features. as his eyes scanned across your attire and up to your face, they eventually landed on your own as he stared right through you. his gaze pierced through you and you nearly shuddered from the intimidation.

you also noticed the looks and hushed whispers that other inmates were giving him once he had sat on your table. perhaps people had been giving him a hard time.

"um," you gulped "are you new here?" you asked. maybe he didn't have any friends like you, that would explain why he came and sat on your table all of a sudden.

he stared at you a while longer before giving you a lazy smile and leaning forward slightly. “yeah i am, are you?”, he asked.

"i mean i joined here four days ago so i guess... what's your name?" you asked smiling back, maybe he wasn't as scary as he looked.

he was silent for a bit as he looked down, it was as if he was contemplating whether he should tell you or not. you stared at him expectantly awaiting his answer.

"wriothesley." he said eventually.

"wriothesley." you repeated, "well, i'm (y/n). i may not know a lot about this place but if you need anything i can try my best to help." you smiled warmly at him.

he smiled back, well more it was more of a smirk, but either way there was a glint of something in his eye that you noticed but couldn't quite put your finger on.

—————

after your little chat with wriothesley at lunch, the two of you parted ways and you headed to the production zone to work until bed time.

when you headed to your room, you got ready for bed and tucked yourself in, closing your eyes so that you could allow sleep to engulf you.

except it never did, and you laid in your bed for hours waiting for the sleep to come.

after a while it eventually rolled to 1am, it was dead silent apart from the constant sound of cogs whirring giving the fortress a more of an eerie feel as you slipped out of your bed.

you trudged towards the lift and made your way to the bottom floor, planning on just sitting at the coupon cafeteria for a while basking in the silence. that's when you stumbled upon the place to find that someone was already there.

the same man from earlier sat in the dim light at the same table from earlier with a teacup to his lips peacefully drinking away, eyes closed. a matching teapot was upon the table and sweet smell of tea wafted throughout.

the rich and sweet aroma was nearly intoxicating, and for someone who hadn't eaten properly in the past few days you felt as if you were hypnotised.

at first you observed from a distance, comtemplating whether or not you should confront him. would he let you try some if you asked? you would have to remember his name first...

wriother... wriothesee... wriothesley? wriothesley! that was it!

"wriothesley?" you called out to the fellow inmate as he opened his eyes to meet yours. he help the cup away from his lips briefly and spoke up.

"oh, evening (y/n)." he acknowledged giving you a small nod, as you made your way to sit opposite him.

"why are you drinking tea out in the open? the guards are going to catch you." you asked while he merely shrugged and set his cup down.

"the guards end their watch night duty at twelve." he stated.

oh, i didnt know that.

"i could ask you the same though. what are you doing wandering around at one in the morning?" he asked, glancing at you.

"i just... couldn't sleep that's all." you said turning your head slightly.

you eyes trailed down to the cup that now rested on the table, noticing how the steam frrom the cup swirled and how the smell was even sweeter now that you were close. wriothesley saw all of this.

"...would you like a sip?" he eventually asked watching the way your eyes gazed on his teacup.

at his words you shot your head up to face him properly.

"really? can i?" your eyes practically lit up which he also took note off, he chuckled before pushing the teacup forward in your direction so that it was in front of you.

you grinned at him before taking the cup in your hands, not too bothered about the fact that you were using the same one as him.

you proceeded to take a sip and it tasted ten times better than the smell. the heat from the drink brought warmth inside of you and the flavours had a sense of familiarity.

the warm hot tea that your boss would usually give you in the little cave in the freezing depths of dragonspine was what first crossed your mind. and you were reminded of home.

you were done taking your sip and let out a happy sigh as you set the cup down.

unbeknownst to you, wriothesley had watched the way you drink the tea and couldn't help but be fascinated in the way your facial expression changed. your eyebrows slightly raised with your eyes slightly widened, the way your smile truly met up to your eyes.

a warm feeling came over him to see you enjoying the tea just as much - probably even more than he did.

"do you like it?" wriothesley asked and you nodded eagerly.

"yeah! it's really good, and tastes sort of familiar. anyway, thanks again, wriothesley." you said pushing the cup back towards him.

"no probl-" he cut himself off after looking down at the now empty tea cup that you had given back to him.

"you finished it..." he muttered quietly eyes widened slightly, when he had handed it to you there was still quite a lot left.

your eyes also widened at his expression as you sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck.

"sorry, i haven't eaten much since i got here so..." you said avoiding his gaze out of embarrassment, you hadn't meant to get carried away the tea just tasted that good.

his eyes shifted from the cup and looked at you, frowning ever so slightly, "you haven't eaten?"

"well apart from the few snacks i brought, my welfare meals have been so bad..." you explained still feeling a tad bit guilty.

"i see. the welfare meals are picked at random so you must've been unfortunate." he explained.

"oh really? so that's how it works..." you said trailing off in thought.

he knew about the when the guards' duty ended and the welfare meals yet i didn't, is this guy really new or am i just slow?

"um, how long have you been here wriothesley?" you asked cautiously and curiously.

"three days." he replied rather suddenly, filling his teacup with some more tea out of the teapot.

"oh, ok then." you said, "it's just you know a lot about this place, probably more than me!" you laughed slightly, he didn't respond and instead kept quiet.

silence fell over the two of you as he sipped his tea looking down at the table and you watched him contently with a small smile.

"you're much nicer than i thought, y'know." you said out of the blue.

"hm?" he said looking back up to face you, "what do you mean by that?"

"i guess it's just that when I first saw you i got the impression that you were the kinda inmate who scared everyone. kinda like a big bad wolf." you explained.

at your comment, he simply looked at you with a deadpan expression. seemingly unimpressed at your claims.

you laughed at his face as a yawn escaped your mouth the same time.

"perhaps you should go to sleep now." he suggested noticing your tiredness.

"maybe i should." you agreed getting up from your seat and stretching, you checked your watch and it was nearly 2.

you looked at wriothesley mildly perplexed, "aren't you going to sleep?"

he shook his head, "no, i still have some things i need to sort out."

what could he possible need to do at 2am?

you decided not to question his motives as yet another yawn escaped you.

"alright then, make sure you get some sleep at least. good night wriothesley." you waved, him giving you a curt nod back before making your way back to your room.

—————

you slept particularly well that night but woke up abruptly the next morning as dread filled your gut. you checked your watch as it read a time around ten in the morning.

i slept in! grainville's totally gonna kill me!

quickly you got out of bed and started to get ready until the same sweet smell from yesterday filled your nose bringing you to a halt.

turning you looked over to the table situated in the corner of your room as you caught sight of a familiar teacup and a grey welfare meal box.

you walked on over to the table, the tea was still warm and there was a small note on the top of the box.

'don't worry about sleeping in, i told grainville that you'd be having a lie in. enjoy breakfast. - wriothesley'

you smiled to yourself before setting the little note aside. you didn't even stop to question how he got grainville to obey his orders, the food inside the box smelled too good.

when you opened the grey meal box, you were met with two croissants and a stack of three pancakes topped with maple syrup and berries. your mouth practically started watering at the sight and you wasted no time and dug in.

—————

from then on, your welfare meals improved drastically and you knew it was wriothesley's doing (yet you still wondered how he had managed to). it had been two days since meeting with him that night and you hadn't seen him since.

you brought the teacup with you everyday since then hoping you'd be able to give it back and thank him but you were yet to see him again.

since food wasn't a problem anymore, you were able to work your shifts at the production zone, and you weren't sure if you were imagine things but grainville had been much nicer to you recently. while you worked, he'd tell you to take break any time you wanted.

on the way, you also happened to befriend the bombshell bros, cuistot and laverune.

"what's with the weird teacup (y/n)?"

"oh it's just uh, for a friend?" you said scratching your neck, looking around to find something else to talk about until your eyes landed upon something,

"oh yeah! what's that room?" you asked walking past the doors at the central part of the administrative area, you had passed it a few times but never knew what it was.

"oh that, that's the duke's office." laverune said.

there's a duke here?

"oh yeah," cuistot piped in, "he's basically in charge down here, a real big shot! the last thing you want is to cross paths with him."

subconsciously, you looked down to the teacup in your hand and pondered.

huh... the duke sounds like a big deal yet i haven't seen him before... i guess that's for my own good though

you and laverune dropped cuistot off at the cafeteria so he could work his shift in the kitchen and then headed off to the production zone.

laverune left after around thirty minutes, saying something about how he was hungry and tired yet you stayed, working tirelessly to process widgets. what the fortress needed all of these widgets for was still unknown to you.

while you were working away, you couldn't help but notice a melusine watching you from the corner of your eye.

she looked a tad bit different from the melusines you had seen up on the surface while on your various excursions in fontaine but still had the same cuteness at least. you wondered why a melusine would be down here of all places.

you didnt think much of her at first, not until she came up to you herself.

"hello! you're mx. (y/n), right?" she said waving at you with a wide smile.

you returned with another smile, albeit a bit surprised she had not only approached you but also knew of your name.

"oh, uh yeah that's me! do you need something?" you asked and she nodded.

"my name's sigewenne, i'm the head nurse down here. I’ve been watching you work and was wondering if you'd follow me? i'd like to give you a check up." she inquired, and how could you refuse to such a cute face?

so you ended your shift at the production zone and considering you had nothing else really to do instead, you followed sigwenne.

one thing led to another and now you were laying down in one of the beds of the infirmary.

“mx. (y/n), are you sure you're feeling well?” sigewinne asked as she looked over your state worriedly taking the thermometer from your mouth.

she had run a couple of tests on you, saying you had 'piqued her curiosity'. but now there seemed to be some sort of problem.

"uh yeah i am, why?" you said confused as she shook her head putting down the thermometer.

"you have a temperature of 40°C, im afraid you're going to have to stay here in the infirmary until it goes down."

"wha- but i feel fine!" you sat up all of a sudden as sigewenne ushered you back down.

"don't worry mx. (y/n), i have just the thing!" she said rushing out the room, you sighed sitting up again and resting your back against the head of the bed.

you had placed the teacup down on the floor beside the bed prior to sigewenne's check up, you bent down slightly and picked it up so you could place it in your lap. then you thought about your current predicament.

is it because i was in the production zone for too long?

it was just a habit of yours to work a lot, but you never thought it would end up in you getting a temperature. the thing was you didn't even feel hot. maybe it was because-

"(y/n)?"

your head whipped to the entrance of the infirmary as the familiar voice fell upon your ears.

"wriothesley! where did you go? it's been two days!" you said smiling upon his arrival.

he didn't necessarily answer your question you noticed, but he came over to your bed and pulled a chair out of a desk nearby to sit right by you.

"sigewenne informed me on your state, are you feeling alright?" he said asking you a question in return.

you blinked. sigewenne told him? wasn't she going to get something? why would she tell him of all people?

oh! maybe they're friends?

"oh yeah i'm okay, i honestly don't know what happened..." you laughed slightly looking off to the side.

"you overworked yourself." he sighed, "you don't have to spend all your time in the production zone."

"i know i know... it's just a habit of mine. i guess that's why my boss sent me here to fontaine, to take a break. it's a shame i have to spend some of it down in prison" you explained.

"i see." he said watching your expression and the way your eyebrows furrowed, "do you miss mondstadt?"

"just a bit." you nodded, "i mean i'm going back soon after my sentence but-"

wait a second, i don't remember telling him i came from mondstadt?

but before you could question the fact that he knew where you were from someone else came in.

"your gr- wriothesley, please could i ask you to leave. mx. (y/n) here needs to rest." sigewenne said with her hands on her hips and a pout on her lips.

wriothesley chuckled at her expression before getting out of his chair as you watched him rise, a small frown on your face.

"oh ok. well, thanks for the tea and breakfast a few days ago! it was really really good. here's your cup." you said holding it out for him.

still, i wonder how he managed to get ahold of such nice food down here...

he reached out to receive his cup and you felt his fingers brush against yours sending a jolt of electricity through your entire body causing you to visibly tense up.

"no problem. i'll come visit you again tomorrow." he said with the faintest smile on his face, his eyes not as piercing as they were upon first meeting him.

your breath hitched slightly and you felt your heartbeat start to quicken as you watched him leave the infirmary, eyes still lingering to where he once was. however your actions didn't go unnoticed by a certain melusine.

once he had left, sigwenne came up to you and checked your temperature once more.

"(y/n)! your temperature has gone up again!" she exclaimed bringing you out of your trance.

"o-oh! really? huh..." you said feeling slightly embarrassed, you yourself new the reason as to why that happened.

"here, drink this and your temperature should go down." she said holding out a cup innocently and you received it with a sheepish smile.

"thanks sigewenne." you said taking a massive sip, not expecting the drink to be so bitter with a side of... spiciness? you swallowed it (barely) but starting coughing soon after.

"w-what's in this??" you choked out.

"oh, nothing you need to worry about. everything in there has healing properties." she reassured.

"right... thanks sigewenne." you said handing her back the cup which she took from your hands.

you thought she'd leave you alone but she just stood there, not looking like she's be moving anytime soon. you contemplated whether or not you should ask if she was alright until she spoke up.

"what do you think of wriothesley?" she asked out of nowhere.

you said averting your eyes to the side, trying to get rid of what was in your head prior, "oh he's nice... i mean he's alright i guess?"

the melusine didn't respond after that, so you slowly brought your gaze back onto her only to be startled to see her staring at you with big wide eyes.

you gulped nervously as you gave her a wobbly smile, her stoic expression scaring you, "are you two friends? i mean you told him that i was sick so i figured you must have-"

"do you like him?" she said suddenly cutting you off.

this time it was your turn to widen your eyes as

"of course not! no- wait yes! wait- i mean in a friend way of course! haha... why do you ask?" you said, painfully wincing internally at your stuttering

she didn't say anything at first but simply stared, her eyes boring into you.

"it's ok mx. (y/n), your secret's safe with me!" she said happily as a sudden sense of worry surged through you.

"huh? what do you-"

"you should probably get some rest now, i'll come check on you again tomorrow morning. good night!" she said clasping her hands together and taking her leave.

you were left speechless once again.

—————

as promised, wriothesley came and visited you in the infirmary the next day. but after the events from the previous day you couldn't look at him in the same way.

you told yourself you didn't have a crush on wriothesley, that would be absurd. but for some reason sigewenne seemed convinced you did, as she sorted out her things in the corner of the infirmary she kept giving you glances.

which was terrible because it seemed as if the two of them were friends so if she told him about your 'feelings', you'd be screwed.

it's not like you had a chance with him to begin with, you weren't from fontaine and he probably was. and despite the fact that you two were sent to the fortress around the same time, you had no idea what sort of crime he committed.

now that you thought about it, he was kinda... mysterious.

he was sat beside your bed as you both drank tea in silence, you felt as if it was awkward and didn't know what to say as you looked everywhere but at him.

one time, you accidentally locked eyes with him and immediately looked away embarrassed.

there's no way i have a crush on wriothesley! besides, after my sentence is over i'll never see him again... not that it matters, i don't like him like that!-

"is something bothering you?" he quipped.

your heartbeat quickened again, much to your dismay. the way he had been looking out for you: getting you food, bringing you tea, checking in on you... it was too much for you to handle.

you hadn't even noticed, you were staring at him.

"no!" you said rather loudly coming out of your trance, you didn't even sound convincing to yourself, "nothing's bothering me, nothing's wrong..."

you quickly brought your teacup to your lips and looked down. nonetheless, he slowly nodded at your response as silence welcomed the two of you once more.

"oh yeah! did you know there was a duke down here?" you asked trying to start up some conversation to clear the silence, your talk with cuistot and laverune the day before coming back to you.

he was silent as he looked down to the liquid in his cup, watching the ripples hit the side and gently bounce back. he then nodded.

"oh, you did? i was only told about him yesterday." you said slightly surprised, you had been down here a day longer than wriothesley but he seemed to know way more than you did.

"what's he like? i've never seen him before." you asked as wriothesley looked up in thought but sigewenne came over to the two of you before he could say anything.

"the duke is very hard-working, he's always up to something hence why you probably haven't seen him yet." sigewenne said, a thermometer in her hands which she held out to you.

you received the thermometer and thanked her, "he kinda sounds like my boss. but at least my boss, as stoic as he is, can be nice and funny at times. apparently the duke is someone who should be avoided."

you put the thermometer in your mouth for a while before giving it back to her, she took note of the temperature and scribbled it down. all the while wriothesley frowned at your words.

"i'm sure the duke also has a good sense of humour." he said.

"maybe..." you shrugged.

"the duke also looks after the fortress very well, he's made lots of improvements over the past years to make this place as comfortable as it can be for the inmates here." sigewenne continued "oh! and he really likes drinking tea."

"ooh! i guess you two have that in common huh?" you pointed out looking at wriothesley.

wriothesley took another sip of his cup before speaking up, "i guess we do."

—————

“w-woah, (y/n)! you have loads of credit coupons!” cuistot stammered at the bunch of ‘credit coupons’ you carried.

sigewenne's drink was surprisingly helpful, (despite how weird it tasted) and you only had to stay in the infirmary for a two nights.

the day after, you and the bombshell bros were planning to go to the pankration ring (a place you never knew existed) to watch a match that according to laverune was going to be the ‘fight of the century’.

but before you made your way there you had told them that there was some trash you needed to clear out so they followed you to your room. when you walked out with the bag of credit coupons they’re jaws dropped.

“credit coupons..? i thought they were just pieces of paper. grainville at the production zone kept giving them to me for working.” you said stopping in your tracks and looking down at the coupons in your hand.

“you’re practically rich! with that many credit coupons you could do all sorts!" laverune exclaimed, the two noticed the confused expression still displayed on your face and decided to explain the whole coupon system.

"...so, this is the currency down here?" you asked in shock.

"basically, yeah!" cuistot said.

wow, i never knew...

once you were done putting away your coupons the three of you headed for the pankration ring. laverune suggested you bring some coupons so you could bet on which fighter you thought would win, so you did.

whilst you walked, you listened in on cuistot and laverune's conversation on who they thought would win.

"'le grappleur' is surely going to win! he is reigning champion for a reason." cuistot said and laverune shook his head.

"oh come on, 'demon horde' has it in the bag. the other day, he even beat 'killer hook'! that makes them tied!" laverune argued.

just what kinda names are these...

"who do you think's going to win (y/n)?" cuistot asked turning to you, you shrugged.

"i don't know... 'le grappleur' maybe?" you said taking a complete guess. laverune humphed disapprovingly.

"well, the duke's going to watch the match as well and i heard he's betting on 'demon horde'!" he said crossing his arms.

oh yeah, the duke, maybe i'll finally see what he looks like?

"but (y/n)'s especially close with his grace so they can just get him to change his mind, bam!" cuistot stated as you raised a brow.

"um, i am?" you asked.

cuistot laughed, "it's not often the duke sits to have a meal with anyone, or visit anyone in the infirmary. why didn't you tell us?" he said only arising more confusion inside you.

he did? but the only other person i've talked to is-

"i believe i heard my name?" a familiar voice spoke up from behind you three causing you all to turn around.

just as you thought, it was wriothesley, you smiled at him feeling your heart beat quicken. you were about to say something until cuistot and laverune beat you to it.

"y-your grace!" they both exclaimed simultaneously bowing slightly as you still stood upright, eyes darting between wriothesley and the pair.

"huh? who... 'your grace'? what?" you were confused until it finally clicked, your eyes widening, "wait, you mean... you're the duke?"

wriothesley smirked at you and folded his arms, "took you long enough."

your mouth was slightly agape as you simply stared at him utterly dumbfounded stumbling to find the right words, "w-what? since when?!"

"oh i dont know, a couple of years ago?" he shrugged nonchalantly.

cuistot and laverune noticed you two were conversing and used it was a chance to slip away off to the pankration ring, leaving you with 'his grace'.

everything suddenly made sense. why he was able to get grainville to listen to him, all the food he was able to deliver you.

"why... why didn't you tell me? and here i thought you were an inmate like me this whole time..." you said bringing your palm to your forehead feeling like an idiot.

"i'll be honest i found it quite entertaining that you didn't know who i was." he said causing you to roll your eyes, he took a step closer so that he was gazing down at you.

"how are you feeling by the way?" he asked, his tone becoming a bit softer making your heart beat even faster.

you sighed, still not having fully accepted the fact that you had been hanging around the duke the entire time, "i'm fine, sigewinne said i should just take it easy from now on."

he hummed smiling slightly, "that's good."

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you merely looked at each other. you admired his features not noticing that he was doing the same until he cleared his throat and looked off to the side.

"your friends seemed to have already left so, would you like to head to the pankration ring together?" he suggested and you beamed at him.

"sure!"

—————

after figuring out who wriothesley really was, you decided it would be best if you discarded your feelings for him. your chances with him had gone from about five percent to absolute zero.

you only had three days of your sentence left anyway, but you weren't looking forward to going back. after all, you ended up liking the fortress of meropide life much more than you had expected.

at the moment, you and wriothesley were having your daily tea break in his office. him sat at his desk going through some papers as you sat on the other side of the desk, reading one of the many books from his shelf.

"you know, i could always shorten your sentence. you could go back today if you wanted." he suggested breaking the silence.

"yes but," you started averting your eyes "i still want to spend a bit more time with cuistot and laverune that's all."

and you too obviously you thought but would never dare to say aloud.

wriothesley hummed in response, "ah yes, you're little friend group." he paused for a bit, "are you sure that's the only reason?"

"uh, i'll miss sigewenne too, she's really sweet." you said, subconsciously taking your eyes off your book and instead watching him. it was a terrible habit of yours lately.

"i see." he said rather plainly, "speaking of sigewenne, we both had a chat earlier today and she told me some, interesting things."

you froze at this and immediately shot ur eyes back down to your book, wriothesley this time noticing as he moved his work to one side watched your expression closely with a smirk.

what? there's no way sigewenne would've told him... right? i never admitted it aloud!

"that's nice, what kind of things?" you said still looking down, eyes scanning over the pages 10x quicker than before (the words weren't even going through your head).

"not much, but she did tell me about you." he said as you felt your heart sink.

"o-oh really? by the way this book is really interesting." you said losing where you were as you flipped ahead a couple of pages, a desperate attempt to change the subject.

he watched your reaction contently, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded, he then shrugged.

"maybe it is, i haven't read it yet." he said, "anyway sigewenne told me that-"

you pulled your own chair back and got up, with the book in hand you rushed to the side to go put it back on the shelf. there was no way you were going to let him finish his sentence and humiliate you.

"i just remembered! i need to go find cuistot to try the new recipe he made!" you said getting up from our chair and going over to the bookshelf. you went on your tip toes to place the book back before turning on your heel, ready to dash towards the door.

however when you turned you were met with wriothesley's figure standing in front of you with a lazy smile, blocking you form going any further.

"sigwenne said that you liked me." he leaned down so he was face to face with you, your lips merely inches away from his and a teasing glint in his eyes, "is that true?"

your eyes widened in shock and horror, your pupils darting around everywhere frantically, "uh- i um, i-"

that alone was enough to provide him an answer asall your muffled words came to a halt when he brought his right hand and held your chin up, connecting his lips with yours.

at first you didn't kiss back, you couldn't kiss back, utterly paralysed from the shock. his smooth lips against your own causing your mind to blank out.

does he... like me back??

you couldn't help it, you were a hopeless fool. you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and kissed back, feeling a smile emerge from his lips, you felt as if you were dreaming.

his hand on your chin found its way to your cheek as the other wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you even closer to his body deepening the kiss in the process.

eventually after what felt like years, you both pulled away breathlessly. an irresistible smile creeping up both your faces.

"i think i'm going to have to lengthen your sentence." he said, his hand resting on the side of your face as his thumb caressed your cheek.

"really? what for?" you asked playing along leaning into his touch.

he leaned in once more, planting a small kiss on your lips before pulling back and flashing you a grin.

"for stealing my heart."

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lizpottersworld · 1 month

Text

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . JUST NOT HOME. even though you and remus aren’t together anymore, your heart aches for him and to feel his love and care again. even your friends are worried, and even they’re acting off. (remus lupin x reader)

play my tears ricochet for the effect if your feeling special and like crying

part two!

it was a shock. the breakup. you didn’t even think separating with remus could be so brutal, well truthly you hadn’t imagined it at all. he was it for you, and you thought he thought the same. honestly, he probably did. yet, the way it ended left your heart broken beyond repair. three years thrown away.

not even your guys closet friends saw it coming, they had always looked up to your guys relationship. the high school sweethearts who loved each other like their was nothing else to savour in the world but the being of each other.

even though you hadn’t heard from remus recently, by your friends worry and anxiety for your being you could tell he was probably doing way better than you. to put it nicely, you looked like hell. all the healthy habits you had built over time thrown away, because he helped you get to that point. and now he was gone, what was the point of carrying on?

he was your home. your belonging. your soulmate. the reason you had carried on all these years. where was the loving and tender boyfriend you had loved those years back? where was he when he called it off with no explanation, leaving you crying in your shared apartment?

there was so many questions you wanted to ask, but nothing could soothe the pain you were feeling.

“y/n/n, please just if you need help just call us, any of us.” marlene pleaded on the phone, doing her daily check in with you. it was unusual hearing marlene so panicked and worried, she was all sunshine and parties really.

“i promise, i’ll be fine.” you sighed, the roughness to your voice not supporting your answer. of course you weren’t, you had cried about it non stop.

“okay well, i have to—“ she started, being cut off by the abrupt sound of pure laughter in the background. your breathing naturally startled, it was his laughter. not just anyones. his.

“marlene, is that—“ your voice croaked involuntarily, you knew all your friends had been hanging out with remus recently you just weren’t aware it was a happy kind of hangout. you always assumed it meant they were individually checking up on him. how was he so happy? it had only been a week?

“yes, i’m sorry y/n/n, we’re all just hanging at james tonight, it was only to make him feel better i didn’t—“ she rushed to explain again, surely the others had picked up on the words and all paused and hushed.

“he seems perfectly fine, marlene! meanwhile I haven’t seen any of you, calls are fine but how does he get the normal invitations to hang out? am i just not apart of the group anymore?” you scoffed, tears streaming down your face in anger and the ache of your heart.

“of course you are, its just— he was our friend first and—“ she pleaded with you, only making it worse for herself. your heart pained at her words, a pathetic whine sounded through the phone from you.

“thats always how its going to be it seems. no matter what I’ve done and do for you guys, because your my best-friends. but you know its all good because you met him a year before me so it makes perfect sense.” you managed to say through the sobs you let out. “i think i’m done with being the second choice in this friendship. you shouldn’t have to choose. i’m done mourning my— the relationship i had with remus just as i’m done with all your bullshit. i hope they all can hear me.” you seethed through your teeth, incredibly hurt, and then you hung up.

that same day you booked a flight, away from london, away from the place you only felt sad in. a week later, you moved out your flat and used the money to go to the uni you always wished you could go to. ‘that was always too far for long distance’

and that year, you started your new life, made new friends and had become close with your roommates. hours away from london, now living in Edinburgh. occasionally, your old friends tried to reach out to you but you ignored them. all until you received a message from him.

lover💓 hey. been a while, no ones heard from you, just wondering if your okay and well. i miss you. we all do.

and just like that. your heart ached again, and you found yourself immediately sending a reply. no matter when, no matter where in the world. you would always have that weak spot for him.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin sad imagine #remus lupin sad #marauders sad imagine #remus lupin angst #remjs lupin angst imagine

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moonstruckme · 10 months

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Hi lovely!!! As I mentioned earlier, I apologize again do sending so many asks, I'm sick and stuck at home rn, so my brain has been working on overtime, so if I have an idea and think u might like it, I am sending them lol.

I wanted to know if u could write spencer x bau!reader, where reader is a technical analyst with Penelope for the team. But the last case was a pretty big one and she ended up sacrificing her sleep and needs to Penelope and everyone else could rest? So now that the case is over shes beng kinda stubborn and doesn't really wanna adress it, nor rest till she finishes the few remaining things?

Like always, you don't gotta write anything I request!!! I hope you've had a good week so far and get plenty of rest lol <333

Sincerely, :]

Hi sweetheart! No worries, send as many as you like! I'm just answering them at my own pace :)

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 876 words

“Hello my favorite genius.” Penelope snags Spencer by his sleeve just as he’s about to step into the elevator, using his momentum to swing him around and start him back the other direction. “I need you to get your ladylove out of my office—” she winces. “Our office. Sorry. Old habits, they do die hard.”

“She’s still here?” Spencer asks, having learned long ago how to bulldoze through the fluff of conversations with Garcia. “I thought she’d be home already.”

“Oh, no,” she says gravely, voice dropping to a whisper as they near the tech room. “I don’t think she’s been there in days. You cannot say anything, but she’s starting to smell.”

Spencer prepares himself for the worst as the door opens, but all he finds is you, cute if a little bedraggled, hunched over your keyboard.

“Hi,” he says tentatively when your glassed-over eyes don’t leave the screen. Your face is awash in blue light, blank but for the determined pinch of your mouth as you work. “Ready to go home?”

“You can’t kick me out,” you say. Spencer blinks in surprise and a bit of hurt at your blunt tone before he realizes you aren’t speaking to him. “You can’t make him kick me out, either. I just have a few things left to do.”

“Very admirable work ethic,” Penelope shoots back, her own voice chipper with a steel edge, “but you’ve done plenty. We can finish this tomorrow.”

You don’t stop typing even for a second. “Go home, Pen.”

She gives Spencer an emphatic, helpless look behind your back, and he nods, signaling for her to go. She backs out of the room with her hands held up in front of her like she’ll need to ward you off, grabbing her bag and shutting the door behind her.

“Hey.” Freed from the last constraints of professionalism, Spencer slips into his most honeyed tone. “Let’s get out of here, sweetheart. I’ve got a bed and a fridge full of almost-bad takeout waiting for us at home.”

“Just a couple of things left to do,” you mutter, but your tone is considerably less hard than it had been with Penelope.

“There will always be things left to do.” He walks up behind your chair, setting his hands on your shoulders and his chin on your head. You smell a bit stale, a sure tell you’ve been too long in this room, but nothing so bad as Penelope had warned him about. Just day-old you. “I may not know the full scope of things, but I know you’ve been working really hard on this case. You deserve some rest. You need some rest,” he amends. “Let me drive you home.”

Something like longing flickers across your expression, but then it hardens back into resolve. “Thanks, Spence, but I can drive myself once I’m done.”

Spencer decides to switch tactics. Oftentimes, the best way to get you to accept help is to let you think you’re actually helping someone else. He straightens and takes a couple of quick steps back from your desk with your chair in hand, rolling you with him.

“Hey!” you reach for your keyboard, but Spencer’s already swiveling your seat, turning you to face him.

He sets his hands on the armrests. “Sweetheart, I just got off a four hour flight after a three day case. I’d really like to go home, but I’m not leaving here without you.” The divot between your eyebrows takes on a new character, frustration softening into sympathy. “And you haven’t even let me say a real hello.”

A spark of happiness lights your eyes a second before they fall closed, face tipping up in eager anticipation as Spencer dips down to kiss you. It’s soft and lingering, and you rub your lips together self-consciously after it’s over, realizing how chapped they are. Spencer wonders when the last time you drank water was.

“Sorry,” you say softly. “I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

“You’re not,” he reassures you quickly, wanting you pliant but not guilty. “I mean, I don’t mind. Of course I don’t mind waiting for you. But are you ready to go now?”

You cast a hesitant, skeptical look back at your computer, but Spencer smooths his thumb over the inside of your wrist, and you relent. “Yeah, okay. I just have to come back early tomorrow to finish up.”

Spencer hums noncommittally. He was already planning on disabling your alarms after you’re asleep tonight. You need rest more than the higher-ups need your reports. You stand, grabbing your bag from under your desk and letting him shepherd you towards the door.

“Do you think we could order some new takeout?” you ask him.

“Good idea,” he agrees, somewhat relieved. “The stuff in the fridge has chicken in it, I don’t trust that.”

Your laugh is somewhat lighter than usual, exhaustion setting in now that you’re out of your cave, but Spencer relishes the sound regardless. “Yeah, me neither. Pizza?”

“Pizza,” he confirms.

You make it all the way downstairs before your eyes flare and you spin around. “Shit, I think I left the light—”

“Nope.” Spencer takes you by the shoulders, steering you towards his car. “Someone else will take care of it.”

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save-the-villainous-cat · 4 months

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Broke college student hero and rich over the top villain. Hero is tired and done. That's it that's the request lmao

“…that has got to be the dumbest idea ever. That’s…I don’t even have any words left,” the hero said but they knew just as well as the villain how their ears had turned tomato red.

For the record, it was a stupid idea. And it was something the hero definitely had to stomach for a few days before deciding.

“I am not interested in twisting the knife but your apartment is pathetic,” the villain said. They picked up a dusty snow globe and observed it. A little figure with a lei stared back at them and the hero cringed internally when they realised it must’ve been over a decade old. As if they had the money to visit Hawai’i any time soon. “And I’m not one for adding salt to wounds but you are, undeniably, poor.”

“Wow, thank you. What are you gonna say next? That I have no prospects?”

“I don’t know, are you already a burden to your parents?” the villain asked, a sly smile stretching over their lips. They seemed quite amused at the hero’s current situation, despite offering their help. Eventually they sat down on the hero’s creaking bed which didn’t help the hero when they tried to tell them they were doing just fine.

“Not that I know of,” the hero said. They crossed their arms in front of their chest and tried to stare at the villain as intensely as they could. “I’m not this desperate, you know? I’m alright. I’m good. This is fine, my apartment is okay.”

The villain stared at the empty ramen packages on the hero’s stove.

“That stuff kills you, you know?” they said, their thumb pointing at the trash angrily.

“I’m doing fine. I’m great. Great physique. Amazing grades. Impeccable catching-criminals-rate.”

“Brilliant,” the villain said. They tilted their head. “Great physique?”

“Yup.”

“Hm.” They looked around the room slowly, observing every imperfection. The hero was ashamed. They weren’t the cleanest person. “A little birdie told me you’re failing most of your classes. Which isn’t all that surprising, given that you’re spending most nights on rooftops in that…interesting costume.”

The villain looked them up and down and the hero stared at them, eyes wide. They had mentioned before that the hero’s costume wasn’t hiding much. The hero had thought it to be a joke.

“I’m not a child, you know? I don’t need your help with ridiculous offers.”

“How old are you again?” the villain asked.

“I’m a year older than you,” the hero reminded them and the villain gave them a belittling look. Sometimes the hero forgot about that, too. The villain seemed like they’d everything figured out. Organised, rich, intelligent — the hero was falling behind and didn’t even know how to change that.

On top of all that, the villain was taller than them.

“I apologise for not respecting my elders then.”

“You—”

“Look, this is a shithole. If we get married you could have a good life. That’s all there is to it. It’s a signature on a paper and some financial decisions. Nothing else,” the villain said. They seemed to suggest this quite casually, as if the hero’s parents wouldn’t freak out on them for failing to introduce their spouse.

Their parents had been asking for grandchildren already. That alone seemed like a burden with the little sexual experience the hero had. It was exhausting and the hero was starting to feel the pressure of college and their nightly activities together. The villain was technically right.

If they lived with someone else, if they had money, they could at least get something real to eat for dinner.

“Well, aren’t you such a generous soul? Offering your money, your life to me like that…”

“We wouldn’t see each other much.”

The hero’s heart was doing something weird.

“Of course…” They stared at the floor. There was something the villain wanted. Some kind of information, some kind of contract. They weren’t doing this because they were a nice and sweet person. Behind every decision, there was a plan. There was calculation. The villain functioned that way.

“Obviously, you can screw whoever you want,” the villain clarified but the hero hadn’t even asked for it nor did they desire it. For a brief moment, they gazed at each other but it was more than that. It was more than a simple look. It was a question, it was an answer. And the hero felt trapped. They feared the villain had a wrong picture of them in their head.

“Why are you offering this?”

“Because it’s an agreement on paper, nothing more. I wouldn’t force you to sleep in the same bed. We don’t even have to live on the same floor,” the villain said but they hadn’t understood the hero.

“I meant the marriage specifically. Why are you doing this? What am I supposed to do in return?”

Now, the villain lowered their gaze. They scratched the back of their neck and the hero was more than curious. If the villain wanted information, the hero would have to decline. They rather lived in this horrible apartment and live from paycheck to paycheck instead of endangering anyone.

“I need protection,” they mumbled. “There’s a mole in my team. Someone tried to assassinate me two times last week. Normally I would…I would have my ways but I don’t want any of my employees to suffer.”

The hero was flabbergasted. They had expected anything but this.

“I’m supposed to be your bodyguard? Me protecting you?” The hero would’ve laughed but they were too surprised by the fact that the villain could’ve died last week.

The villain took a deep breath and leaned back, eyes half-lidded.

“It’s more like…detective work. The marriage is supposed to cover for the both of us. You living at my place out of a sudden would be less suspicious if people thought we were…you know. Plus, I could give you money that way. As payment.”

The hero stared at them. Admittedly, they felt as tired as the villain looked. Both had been through a few rough months. The hero wasn’t sure what to say.

“Think about it,” the villain said. They stood up and walked over to the door. But before they could even reach for the doorknob, the hero grabbed their arm.

“I swear, if you’re using me, if you use the…situation I’m in—”

“Believe me. I don’t enjoy seeing you live like this.” The hero pressed them against the door. They’d missed being close like this. “And I’m getting anxious.”

“You’ll have to meet my parents,” the hero said. They looked down at the villain’s expensive clothes. They couldn’t really concentrate.

But the villain only grinned. They pulled the hero closer, close enough to kiss them. “And they’ll love me.”

Two days later, the hero agreed.

A week later, they hooked up for the first time.

#pride and prejudice reference oh nooo #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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