#ic: drabble

[justicepuppet]

It wasn't silence that filled the room (the overly cheerful, near cloying music of the battle center was still merrily chirping away) but silence certainly stretched between the two men as they sat on the sofa and stared at the TV screen. One of them held a controller, his expression growing more and more frantic as he paged through the PC to look at each and every pokemon - 48 still, as it had been before they started this.

"Akira."

"It-- it has to be here. We did what the guide said."

"Akira." A pause, and a blink. "Akira, where is Ho Oh?"

"He-- he was supposed to-!" Giving up on searching through the game, Akira dropped the controller to pick up his phone. "It said to beat Mount Battle in one go-"

"And we did that, Akira. We did it. That's what we spent the past four hours doing."

"-get Ho Oh Colosseum-"

"Where is Ho Oh, Akira?"

The dark haired man didn't answer at first, his eyes scrunching as he scanned over the page on his phone. And then- a sharp inhale, wide eyes, and an expression of pure terror as he slowly looked up toward the other.

Akechi stared back at him, his own expression flat and unflinching.

"We... we were supposed to... we had to do it in Battle Mode..."

Silence. Heavy, painful silence, followed by:

"No."

"Akechi-"

"No. No. I can't- we're not-"

"Akechi, please-"

"No. No, fuck this game Akira no." Akechi shook his head as he got up. "I can't. I refuse. I am not doing this again. I can't- I can't fucking believe- what a stupid bullshit fucking game oh my fucking god." His words were ended by him scooping one of the two cats up, rubbing at her back as he walked into the kitchen.

All those hours and for nothing.

[suiana]

yandere! ice skater and first time skater reader. gang this is so gangsta!!! imagine going onto the skating rink for the first time and falling constantly like a little kid 😂😂😂 u even have a helmet and one of those seals 😂😂😂 meanwhile yandere! ice skater (who's also your longtime admirer) is literally an olympic skater that makes doing jumps and axels look easy.

"AURGH-"

"oh dear, shall i help you?"

the ice skater gracefully glides over to you as you fall onto your ass for the fifth time since you fell onto your ass. you came in ten minutes ago.

he meticulously adjusts your position, teaching you the basics while holding onto your hand as he encourages you.

"well done, you're doing great, sweetheart. yes, just like that..."

by the end of your little lesson with him, you could hold yourself up for at least ten minutes!!!! wowzers!!! you thank him gratefully before trying to skate off...

only to realize that he was still holding onto your hand.

"where do you think you're going? i never said our lesson was over, did i?"

?????

[astrids-blog333]

To Have and To Hold

Jon Snow x Reader

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Summary: Jon returns from battle, bloodied and victorious. But all you care about is the fact that he came home to you.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (at the end) ref to canon-typical violence, blood/injuries, mild gore, strong language, ref to war.

A/N: I will forever love Game of Thrones, and I just rewatched it for the millionth time to distract myself from exams 🤭 this doesn't follow the plot specifically, but I imagined season 6 Jon :)

dividers by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST - REQUESTS (OPEN)

WC: 2.6k

The wind cuts through the open expanse of the North, sharp and cold against your face as you stand above the large gates of Winterfell.

The men of the North have returned.

You can hear the rumble of horses' hooves long before they appear over the ridge, the sound growing louder and louder. The warriors ride in, exhausted but victorious, with cheers from the village ringing out behind them.

The familiar scent of the north fills your lungs, the fresh pine, the earth after rain, and a lingering trace of smoke from the fires burning in every hearth. You look at the soldiers, some of them grinning, others barely able to keep themselves upright.

But all eyes are on Jon. He’s at the front of the group, shoulders broad, head held high. His dark hair is matted with dirt and blood, and his clothes are stained with the gory aftermath of battle.

But to you, he’s perfect. He's your king.

Your husband.

You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, the worry that’s been gnawing at you since he left now turning into relief that he's come home to you unscathed.

You can’t wait another second.

Without thinking, you break into a run, your feet pounding against the stone as you sprint toward him. The villagers part to let you through, some giving you nods of respect.

Jon’s eyes lock with yours in the crowd, his gaze intense, even from a distance. His lips curl into a half-smile as he urges his horse forward. You’re almost there, and in a moment that feels as though it’s been months in the making, he’s dismounting before the horse even comes to a full stop.

He’s there, in front of you, a storm of emotions swirling behind his dark, brooding eyes. You reach him in a heartbeat. Your arms are around his neck, and before he can protest, you feel the heat of his body engulf you. He tries to pull back from you.

“No, love, I’m covered in blood-”

But you don’t listen. You’re already in his arms, his chest hard and solid as he pulls you against him, lifting you off your feet in a tight embrace.

The cheers from the soldiers and villagers fade into nothing as his lips find yours. It’s hungry and desperate, as if the entire world has melted away, leaving only the two of you. His mouth tastes like salt, iron, and something raw. His arms tighten impossibly around you, pulling you closer, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away from his desperate grasp.

You feel his chest heaving beneath your fingers, his body trembling every so slightly, but there’s no hesitation in his touch. He holds you like he’s never going to let you go.

His lips break away from yours, just for a moment, but you’re still tangled in his embrace, your breath shaky. His forehead presses against yours, and you can hear the weight of his voice as he mutters, “I was worried, you know. I couldn’t stand the thought of you here all alone, and no one being here to protect-”

“I’m fine,” you say, cutting him off, your hands sliding up to cup his face. You smile up at him, feeling the rush of love flood your chest. “You’re back. That’s all that matters.”

Jon holds you even tighter, his hand cupping the back of your head as he buries his face in your hair. The world around you is still roaring with celebration, but in this moment, all you hear is his heartbeat and the sound of your own breath.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he whispers, his voice low and hoarse. His words send a shiver through you, and you can feel the weight of everything that has happened settle.

All the brutal battles, all the bloodshed, the distance.

But now he’s home.

You hold him tighter, not caring about the blood or dirt staining your dress. You’ve missed him in ways words can’t express, and all that’s left is the overwhelming need to be close to him, to hold him, to remind each other that the war is over for now.

You don’t pull away from him, your arms still tightly wrapped around his neck, but you can feel the weight of his blood and dirt pressing against you, the remnants of the battle that still cling to him. You can’t wait to get him inside, where you can finally help him relax and tend to his wounds.

Jon pulls back just slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he looks down at you with a soft smile. His thumb brushes across your cheek, as if checking to see if you’re truly real, as if this moment is just as overwhelming for him as it is for you.

He seems to notice the way your eyes scan him, analysing the cuts littering his body.

“I’m fine,” whispers, his tone soft but still with that familiar stubborn edge. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

You give him a look, a silent challenge to let you help, and Jon simply chuckles, his shoulders sagging slightly as he lets out a long breath.

Inside the warmth of your chambers, the two of you are finally together, alone.

You move toward the bathing area, prepared to clean him, tend to him. Jon doesn’t protest. He stands, his broad frame slightly slumped, and begins to undress slowly. His movements are tired, but there’s a quiet strength in them. You can see the exhaustion in his eyes, the lingering pain from the battle.

This is the moment where you can care for him, take away the stress, even if just for a little while.

He steps into the water, sighing as the warmth envelops him. You kneel beside the tub, reaching for the cloth. The water swirls around him, dark with the blood and dirt he’s carried back from the battlefield.

You step closer, a cloth in your hand, your presence drawing his gaze. His eyes soften as you approach, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Didn’t think I’d get a personal healer today,” he murmurs, his voice low but teasing. “I’m used to the battlefields, not the bath.”

You smile back, dipping the cloth into the warm water. “Well, today’s your lucky day.” Your fingers brush against his shoulder as you gently begin cleaning the blood and grime from his skin, the warmth of the water combined with your touch allowing Jon to finally relax.

Jon’s gaze never leaves you as you tend to him. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and you can see the exhaustion in his eyes, but also the trust. His hand reaches up to run through his wet hair, pushing it away from his forehead. The tension in his body slowly melting away.

“You always know how to make me feel better,” he says quietly, his voice soft, adoring.

You chuckle lightly, dipping the cloth into the water again and pressing it gently against his side, where a fresh wound is healing. “That’s what I’m here for.”

But there’s something in the way his eyes watch you that makes this moment feel different, more intimate than usual. His fingers brush over your arm, light, like he’s just feeling the softness of your skin, but it’s enough to send a small spark through you.

“Do you need to be so gentle?” he asks, his voice teasing but with a hint of something else in it, like he’s testing the boundaries. “I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

You glance up at him, catching the glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’m not worried about you,” you reply, rising to his bait. “I just like taking care of you.”

His lips curl into a smile, and he leans back, clearly at ease, letting you work. “I’m starting to think you like it a little too much.”

You raise an eyebrow, not missing the playful tone in his voice. “Maybe I do,” you smirk, the smile on your lips matching his. “But you deserve it.”

You move down his body slowly, checking over his wounds, making sure each one is clean and free of dirt. As your fingers graze over his skin, you notice his attention shifting. He’s watching you more closely now, the mood subtly shifting as his gaze moves from your hands to your face.

There’s a quiet pause before he speaks again. “You’re always so focused when you care for me. It’s... comforting.” His voice drops.

You meet his gaze, not backing down, but instead letting your hand trail along his arm as you finish cleaning the last of the blood from his side. "Like I said, I want to make sure you're alright."

Jon leans in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m more than alright with you here.”

The room falls into silence, the only sound being the gentle splash of water as you shift and move around him. You finish cleaning his wounds, your hands lingering just a little longer than necessary on his skin. He’s close now, his body warm against yours.

With a final look over his chest, you step back, letting him relax into the water.

“All done.”

Jon leans back again against the stone side of the tub, his eyes still focused on you. There’s a moment where neither of you speaks, just enjoying the quiet. Jon’s hand reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering just a little longer than necessary.

Finally, Jon stands from the bath, his muscles glistening with water. He reaches for a towel, but before he wraps it around himself, he turns toward you.

“You’re right, you know,” he says quietly, his voice laced with both affection and something deeper. “I’ve fought battles, but this... this is different. You make everything easier.”

You don’t say anything at first; you just watch him, and your heart is swelling for the man standing in front of you. You move to help him dry off, your hands slow.

But Jon isn’t finished yet. He steps closer to you, his body warm and solid against yours as he cups your face gently in his hands, bringing you in for a soft kiss.

His lips are so soft, and you feel his hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you toward him until your bodies are flush against each other.

For a moment, you both simply stand there, caught in the kiss. His lips are a little desperate now, pressing against yours harder, deeper, he can’t get enough. His hands slip lower, sliding around your waist, and before you can even react, he lifts you off your feet. You gasp into the kiss, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you across the room.

You cling to him, your heart racing, as he walks toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. His hands feel like fire on your skin, his body solid and strong against you.

You’re completely at his mercy, and you can feel the desire pumping through you. When he reaches the edge of the bed, he gently sets you down, taking a moment to look at you.

“You’ve no idea how much I’ve waited for this,” he mutters, voice thick and rough.

You reach for him, pulling him closer, unable to wait any longer. "Show me," you whisper back, your hands sliding down his chest, feeling every inch of him.

And without another word, Jon closes the space between you.

As you lie back on the bed, Jon hovers over you, his dark eyes heavy with desire, his fingertips grazing your skin. His breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling with the anticipation.

“You’ve no idea what you do to me,” he growls, his lips trailing down your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers across your skin. He finds the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, and you can't help but let out a soft moan, the sound barely escaping you.

Jon pauses, lifting his head to look at you, his gaze heated, focused entirely on you. His hand moves slowly, possessively, from your waist up to your breast, brushing against the fabric of your dress before pushing it aside. He groans softly at the sight of your skin, his mouth trailing down to your chest, kissing the exposed area before his hands start to move lower.

“Jon,” you whisper. You reach for him, but he stops you with a gentle hand, pressing your palm against the bed.

“Patience, love,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “I’ve waited far too long to rush this.”

Your heart races as his lips return to yours, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling your body even closer to his. The heat between you both is unbearable, every inch of your skin aching for him.

Jon’s lips trail lower, his hands finding the lower hem of your dress. He pauses, looking up at you one more time, his gaze soft but filled with hunger.

“Are you sure?”

You nod, pulling him closer, not able to wait any longer. “Of course I’m sure.”

Without another word, Jon pulls the rest of your dress off, his eyes drinking you in as he undresses you. The moment he’s fully exposed you, his lips find yours again, hungry and wild. He presses his body against yours, his warmth enveloping you as he pushes you further up the bed.

As he first thrusts into you, you feel your body shudder in response. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he stretches you, filling you completely.

The initial ache melts into something deeper, something that sends heat curling low in your stomach. Each of his movements is deliberate, slow, drawing out the sensation, the heat building between you both until it feels like there’s no distance left between you.

Jon’s face is pressed against the crook of your neck, his breathing laboured as he continues to move against you. His hands grip the sheets beside you, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back, controlling the pace.

But as your moans get louder, his control slowly slips away.

He picks up the pace, his thrusts growing faster, harder, until everything blurs into a haze of sensation. You meet him with equal fervor, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him deeper, wanting more, needing more.

When the climax hits, it’s like a wave crashing over you both.

It's sudden, powerful, and all-consuming. Your body trembles beneath him, your nails digging into his back as he moves against you, his name escaping your lips in a breathless gasp. Jon follows soon after, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck.

For a moment, there’s only silence, the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms, recovering from the intensity of what just happened. Jon presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his breath still shaky as he pulls you closer.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You smile, kissing him softly. “I love you too, Jon.”

[nenlio]

Against All Odds BoyFail Danny Scores a Dilf

> DP x DC #0.2 - Copper Ice <

one again shout out to @chekhovs-slinky for the og prompt

As Danny and Sam entered their shared home the sounds of a action movie reached them signaling the location of their housemate.

"Were home!!!" Sam yelled into the house.

"In the cinema room!!"

They strolled further in until they reached their friend, Tucker was sat on the sofa leaving a gap that Danny flopped himself on to, groaning in embarrassment at his actions from earlier. Patting his back Tucker winced at Dannys behavior "Woah whats up with you dude? Did you mess up or something? I thought you left the shy guy act in your twenties?"

Sams laugh caught Tuckers attention " Oh he did something alright. Get this, I come up to Danny to ask him for my keys and hes totally zoned out! I finally get his attention and he tells me he thinks he has a chance to get a date with the guy hes looking at. Now, who do you think he was talking about?"

"Based on Dannys reaction I'd say Bruce Wayne?" At Tuckers reply Sam makes an X motion over her chest "EH wrong, Danny-boy over here went after Alfred Pennyworth, As in the guy that raised Bruce Wayne, As in the guy Bruces children consider their grandfather, As in the guy who is 35 years older than Danny!!"

"NO WAY WHAT" Tucker looked down at Danny on his lap and started shaking him "DANNY STOP BEING PATHETIC AND TELL ME EVERYTHING"

"Danny cant answer the phone hes dead" came Dannys muffled reply. Tucker rolled his eyes and turned back to Sam, "so what did Alfred say?"

Sitting down Sam started to, dramatically in Dannys humble opinion, regale Tucker with their evening story," im not even joking Tuck he looked like Alfred was the Cinderella to his Prince Charming with the way he ran after him. Me and Brucie looked so lost and we had to have awkward small talk about the charity until Danny came back."

At this point the force of Tuckers laughter was making him a very uncomfortable pillow so Danny rolled over to glare at him. "Danny, dude, you gotta admit its hilarious how desperate you must have looked in front of Wayne. You probably don't even know where your taking Alfred on a date do you." Dannys groan of embarrassment was answer enough for Tucker to lose it once more.

"Don't worry Danny well come up with a plan for you to woo your beau" Sam soothed as she patted his back, Danny simply groaned out of embarrassment. He had the worst friends.

The batcave was a flurry of voices all asking Alfred questions, the man in question simply arching a brow at their unruly behavior.

"Alfred are you really going on a date with that guy?! We don't even know anything about him!!" Dick was seemingly the most distraught at the news, his grandfather?? Dating?

Oracles voice crackled as she spoke through the caves speakers " His name is Danyal Danny Nightingale, 36 years old, he is the co-owner and eventual heir to DalvCo. He has a relatively clean record aside from some speeding and arrests for unruly protests."

Alfred simply sighed in response, "Master Dick, Ms. Barbara, while I understand your worry that is no reason to invade our guests privacy. And yes Master Dick I will be going on a date with Mr. Nightingale, his efforts to pursue me are commendable, and I will be giving him a chance even if it isn't earnest on my behalf."

"So youre just going along with his whims? 'tt' I expected more from you Pennyworth" Damian didn't show it outwardly but he was excited for Alfreds date. He had immediately recognized Nightingale during the gala, not because of his business, but because he was the person to bring back the purple backed gorillas from extinction. Damian had been 6 years old when he first saw a magazine featuring Daniel Nightingale. He had devoured the every word written about Daniel and it sparked the beginning of Damians infatuation with animal conservation beyond that of his families ideas.

Now seeing the opportunity to meet his role model face to face, and possibly even being related to him (if Alfred's account of Nightingale wanting to court with the intent of marriage was correct.) Damian knew what had to be done.

Damian was going to become Gothams cupid and make sure his Grandfather and role model got together.

Laying back on Tuckers legs, Danny tensed as he felt another sneeze attack coming on, halting all conversation.

ACHOO "Bless you" " Bless you" "Thanks, ugh who decided that speaking my name would cause me to sneeze"

Sam rolled her eyes at Dannys whining. "At least you dont get the calling to be summoned like with your royal title" Danny glared at Sam "gee thanks for being so compassionate, Ill be sure to sneeze on you next time"

"I wonder who's talking about me though"

[pretty-little-mind33]

Ice Hockey James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You wait for your boyfriend after his game — In the same universe as Suburban Legends

Genre: Fluff <3

Warnings: muggle au, college au, swearing

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You stand in the lobby of the rink, your arms are crossed across your chest and you're cursing yourself for only wearing his jersey instead of something warmer. Still, you smile. How can you mind when you can remember how happy James looked when saw you in the stands?

You pace around, waiting another few minutes until you start to become impatient. All his teammates have left the rink, which is something you know because you've counted each of their high-fives.

You have only been dating James Potter for a month now, but his teammates act like they've already taken you in as one of their own. 

"I didn't think you'd wait for me this long." you hear him. His voice is a little hoarse and he's rotating his shoulder around as he grimaces.

"Is your arm okay?" you ask, standing up and meeting him in the middle of the lobby. He was shoved pretty hard into the plexiglass and you look up at him, concerned. 

His lips curl into a little smirk, "Worried about me, Y/l/n?" He whispers and leans in close.

"As your girlfriend, I feel like if I wasn't worried then we'd have a problem," you chuckle and roll your eyes at his insistence to continue calling you by your last name. He says it's a habit but you're convinced he just likes to see you flustered.

"Come on I'm starving," you take his hand and try to lead him towards the door. 

"Shit," James groans, "I forgot my gloves in the locker room," 

You drop his hand and turn around, crossing your arms. "Are you seriously making me wait for you longer than I already have?" 

He shakes his head with a smile, "No. You're coming with me this time." It's his turn to take your hand and he practically pulls you to the locker rooms. 

"Jamie, slow down," you say.

Suddenly, you're pressed against the wall of the empty hallway as James's arms cage around your head. His hockey bag had fallen onto the ground and he leans his head downwards so that you can look into his eyes. His eyes shine and he's giving you the most obvious, "I wanna to kiss you," pout. 

"What are you doing?" you feign coy behind a laugh as he slides his hands down to the side of your head and cups your cheeks in his hands. He's so close it's incredibly intoxicating.

"Kissing you?"

You smile, nodding, and he leans down to kiss along your neck. His hips press into mine and you think I've finally lost all sensibility. "You drive me insane — you and my fucking jersey," he whispers as his kisses move upwards and his knuckles skim the fabric of his jersey near your breasts.

"You're the one who wanted me have it."

"Yeah, to wear around your dorm—not during my games," he says and his hands climb up the wall again as you look up at him, "If your plan is to distract me when I'm supposed to be paying attention to the game, you should know it's working more than it should…"

You grin and stare at him with wide eyes. You make sure to chew on your lower lip so that you're doing exactly what you know turns him on. "Seems like a misunderstood then," you say, "Still, I didn't think you would have a problem with everyone knowing I'm yours, James." 

Something snaps inside him and that's when he kisses you. 

It's raw and rough, but the way his strong arms wrap around you waist to pull you closer is gentle and you melt into his arms. Wantonly, you run your hand through his hair. The dark brown locks are slightly messy from being under his helmet and when James feels me pull on them, his breath jumps in his throat,

"Everyone already knows you're mine." He whispers and then continues to kiss you.

You pull him even closer and with his good arm, he wraps one of my legs around his hip. You're both so engrossed in our activity you, unfortunately, don't hear footsteps until, James's coach clears his throat,

James stops kissing you and carefully lowers your leg onto the ground. He hides you behind him as you turn around, his cheeks crimson from embarrassment, as you attempt to calm your internal panic. 

"Hey," James says, weirdly casual.

"Rink is closing, Potter. Go home." His coach says and you peek at him from behind James's shoulder. He sees me and sighs, "You too, Y/n."

"Will do, sir." James says. Quickly, he lifts his bag back onto his shoulder and holds your hand. You mumble a small, "sorry" as you walk by his coach but you don't think he hears you considering you can't even bear to look at him. 

Once you're back in the lobby, you bury your head in your hands, "I'm so embarrassed," you groan. James laughs and rubs your shoulders.

You look up at him and frown, "This really isn't funny."  

"Coach doesn't care. I promise." James reassures you.

"Why? Is this not the first time he's caught you kissing someone here?" you ask, sounding more jealous than intended.

James's expression softens and, holding your hips, he pulls you close enough to kiss your forehead, "How many times to I have to promise you I'm not, and have never been, a player?" 

You nod, smiling guiltily, "Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have asked that, I'm sorry."

"Water under the bridge, Y/l/n," James jokes and kisses your temple. He swings his arm around your shoulder, "I remember someone said they were hungry, shall we eat now?" 

"Wait, what about your gloves?"

James grins wolfishly. "Oh, those are in my bag, I just wanted to make out with you."

[castieltrash1]

Can I request Jon Snow x Lady!Reader. Arranged marriage that becomes real love?

this is so sweet ty for the req :')

jon snow x afab!reader; arranged marriage, slow burn, vague mentions of sex, mutual pining-ish i think

when you’re finally brought to the godswood, gaze averted and flecks of snow glinting between strands of hair, jon finds himself relieved. he’d known his duties from a young age so when the time to wed arrived -- a wife already chosen on his behalf -- he didn’t fight it. he tried not to imagine your appearance, but it proved difficult, and many late nights at winterfell were spent concocting an image of you in his head. not nearly as beautiful or rich as robb’s future wife, surely, but you’d be worthy of a stark bastard at least… right?

it’s odd. you’re different, but somehow more beautiful. jon can’t really explain it and he doesn’t try, not wanting to offend you. the first night is painfully awkward regardless, and he’s relieved when you both agree to take it slow for now. everything happens eventually, of course, but your patience pays off. jon considers himself lucky -- he could’ve been stuck with anyone for the rest of his life, but he had you; you, with your kind words and pretty face, practically handed to him on a silver platter. he kept waiting for you to act monstrous, assuming your beauty had to be compounded by something, anything, but it’s not. your marriage isn’t perfect, but jon enjoys figuring things out with you by his side. he likes being a united front with someone. he likes the warmth you leave on the other half of the bed, sheets smelling like the oil from your baths. he enjoys keeping you happy, noticeably fulfilled when he’s seen as a good husband and dutiful partner.

the more you go through together, the deeper jon’s feelings grow. he knows it’s happening, despite his initial attempts to ignore it. you have a lifetime together ahead of you - there’s no need for him to rush things. but the affection gnaws at him, and he can’t deny himself any longer. he loves you. by the old gods and the new, he really, truly, loves you. he hadn’t expected it, thinking any romantic dedication to you would take years to build -- if it ever even came to fruition -- but now it’s here and he almost isn’t sure what to do.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue all day. he’d nearly said it in bed the night before, limbs tangled in sheets as he stared down at you, but the words were caught in his throat. now, every time he speaks to you, the declaration begs for release, desperate for you to know the depth of his feelings. three more opportunities arise before midday, but he lasts until after dinner, when he finds you overlooking the courtyard below and feels his heart skip a beat. you turn to face him and, somehow, his gentle expression tells you everything.

“i love you.”

+ after he says it for the first time, it takes him a while to work up the courage again, even if you happily return the sentiment. it felt like a reward and he doesn’t want to spoil it. the words aren’t careless to him and he wants them to mean something, not be taken for granted. soon enough, you’ll hear it five times a day, gruffly murmured in every free moment alone. and, despite its newfound frequency, it only seems to be more genuine each time.

game of thrones weekend (reqs open!)

[therogueflame]

I have a silly request for whoever targaryen you feel like writing! it can even be a small drabble, of targ trying to ignore their feelings for servant reader and one day they go to pass message to them while they're on the dragonpit and their dragon is very aware of their feelings and kinda just wants affection from reader and are very instent on it? sorry for bad english or bad explanation!

hi anon i am fighting my sleep meds writing this so pls excuse me and my silliness

The Ill Tempered

✨ My Masterlist ✨

🖊️My AO3 🖊️

📝 My WIP List 📝

❄️ My ASOIAF/GOT/HOTD Discord Server 🔥

WC: ~1k.

Summary: You climbed into the dragonmont by yourself. What greets you surprises everyone.

Warnings: None, pure fluff really.

Jacaerys Velaryon x Servant!Reader

You should not be here. The heat clings to your skin, rising from the black stone in shimmering waves, the wind carrying the sharp scent of ash and something older, deeper. The Dragonmont is no place for servants, and certainly not when a dragon is being readied for flight. But the message in your hand is marked urgent, and you were told to deliver it to Prince Jacaerys directly, and to no one else.

You spot him ahead, standing just beyond the mouth of the cavern with his gloves tucked beneath one arm and a strap of Vermax’s saddle in his hand. His curls are windswept and damp from the climb, his expression focused until he hears your steps. He turns quickly, brow furrowing.

“My prince,” you say, keeping your tone steady despite the steep path behind you. “Forgive the interruption. The maester said it could not wait.”

He looks surprised to see you, not displeased, only puzzled. “You climbed all this way alone?”

“I was told to place it in your hands.” You step forward and offer the folded parchment.

Before he can take it, Vermax lifts his head. The dragon rises slowly, eyes locked on you. For a moment, he only watches. Then he begins to move.

You stay where you are, though every part of you tells you to step back. The dragon’s breath fogs in the air between you. He approaches with purpose and a kind of confidence that leaves no room for questioning. Jacaerys does not speak. He watches as Vermax reaches you, presses his snout against your shoulder, then nudges again, more firmly this time.

Your hand lifts without thinking. Fingertips brush warm scale. Vermax exhales, heavy and content.

Behind him, the prince’s voice is quiet. “I have never seen him do that.”

You do not move your hand. “He seems friendly.”

“He usually is not.”

The dragon leans into your touch again, a low, pleased sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“I came only to deliver a message,” you say, voice low now, careful not to disturb whatever this is.

“And you’ve been adopted,” Jacaerys replies, stepping forward at last. He takes the parchment from your hand, though his gaze remains on the dragon, who now shifts behind you, curling until the heat of his body rests just near your side. “He doesn’t act like this with others.”

“Not even with you, my prince?”

“On good days.” His lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but close. “And never like this.”

You glance down as Vermax’s tail coils lazily across the stone, brushing just past your boot. “He must be in a rare mood.”

“Perhaps,” is all the prince says.

You scratch gently beneath Vermax’s jaw and feel the dragon press into it, fully content. The parchment remains unopened in the prince’s hand. The wind shifts again, carrying the smell of salt and smoke from the cliffs below.

“He likes you,” Jacaerys says after a moment, almost to himself.

“I noticed.”

“He will be impossible after this.”

“I am flattered.”

“You should be,” he says, glancing at you sidelong. “He only likes me most of the time.”

You do not answer that. You look at the dragon instead, then at the sky. The saddle is ready. The air is still. But Jacaerys does not move to mount, and Vermax does not make space for you to go.

The prince glances down at the letter in his hand, then folds it once more without opening it.

“Who can know the heart of a dragon,” he says, more gently this time.

You keep your hand resting against Vermax’s warm, living skin. You do not speak. Neither does he.

The message has been delivered. The prince remains on the ground. And the dragon, pleased with himself, settles in for a stay.

[kaoribriefs]

it was strange for her, it was something new even though she hadn't been a child for a long time. Dany found this way of making love from her new husband strange, he was hungry of her but it wasn't the same hunger of her sun and stars or the forgotten Daario, no, Jon Snow cared about giving her pleasure, he was strangely altruistic , when he put his head between her legs, he caressed her or looked into her eyes gently as he moved inside her. For the first time Dany felt a new warmth inside like she no longer felt from the red door, she didn't worry about being enough for Jon...but only about hearing his heartbeat...in the night.

[aphroditelovesu]

Hi, can you please write a Yan!Daenerys prompt 27?

[27]; "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

❝tw: mention of death, mildly angst (?) and obsessive behavior.

The smell of ash and blood filled King's Landing almost like a plague. The screams of those burned by Drogon, once so excruciating, became just uncomfortable memories in Daenerys' mind.

For that was all they would eventually become. It wasn't right but Daenerys didn't care. She no longer cared about becoming what she became. As long as she had you in her life, the entire world could be consumed by dragon fire.

You were all that mattered to her.

Daenerys watched the devastation around her, her eyes fixed on the smoldering ruins of the city that once represented the heart of the Realm. Her expression was a mix of cold determination and a rare tenderness reserved only for you.

She did it for you. All for you.

"I did this for us. For you." Daenerys whispered in awe, more to herself than anyone else. Your presence beside her was an anchor amidst the chaos, a shining light in the darkness she had created.

You looked at her as if you no longer recognized her and, in a way, that was true. This was no longer the Daenerys you knew and once loved. This was a shell of what she once was.

A woman dominated by grief and the fear of losing someone else she loved. And only the gods knew what Daenerys would do to the world if something happened to you.

"Some things need to be destroyed so that others can flourish." She continued, turning to look at you. "They would never understand. They would never accept the world I want to build."

You felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze. There was a deep pain there, a loneliness that only you seemed able to alleviate. Even with all the power and destruction she commanded, Daenerys was, deep down, a woman looking for love and acceptance. And she wanted that from you, just you.

Her gaze, although filled with burning passion, had a coldness that hadn't existed before. The glow in her eyes was now more intense, but also emptier, as if an essential part of her humanity had been consumed by the fire of her own despair.

And it hurt. The sight of a person you loved, maybe still love, being destroyed like this was too much to bear.

"You didn't have to do that." You tried to say, trying to reach the real Daenerys that remained somewhere inside her. "You didn't need to destroy King's Landing, you didn't need to burn all those people and destroy their home. There was another way, there always is."

But your words seemed to be lost in the freezing winter wind, swallowed by the distant sound of echoes from a city in ruins. She lifted her head and the strength in her voice left no room for doubt. "I can't go back anymore." She declared. "What's done is done. And now, you're all I have."

There was a palpable fear in her words, a fear of what might happen if you walked away, a fear that made her cry out for your presence, not just as a partner, but as her anchor in a sea of ​​uncertainty. Not that she would let you get away, but she wouldn't want to hold you prisoner.

Daenerys looked at you with an intensity that mixed love and despair, her voice a painful whisper filled with truth. "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

Her words seemed to hang heavy in the air like a sentence of condemnation and devotion at the same time. She was not just revealing herself, but giving herself completely, displaying her scars and shadows as if they were a sign of absolute love.

What was left of Daenerys, the woman you loved and feared, was desperate to hold on to what she still could hold, even if it meant sacrificing the world around her. And when you looked into her violet eyes, you knew there was no going back.

She was your monster. Your queen. And she loved you so hard that she would be willing to burn the world to the ground, even if that wasn't your desire. It didn't matter in the end, though. Daenerys would always hold on to you.

[koipudding]

fake dating blade for a few hours to get couple’s discount but he doesn’t let go of your arm, hand or sleeve. It’s been half an hour after the dinner, but he insists on keeping up the pretense. You indulge him, and it’s totally not because your ears and face are warming up, or that he’s been so gentle this evening. Blade stops by a flower shop, and gets you a lovely bouquet with a keychain of your favorite sanrio character.

“Do you want dessert? It’s my treat.” He guides you to a small ice cream truck, one you’ve been craving for a while (how’d he know… maybe you’ll ask him later?)

Blade drops you off with a kiss on your forehead (you don’t know why but your heart jumps to your throat), and makes sure you’ve locked your doors before you hear the ‘ding!’ of the elevator.

the next day, he’s waiting outside your door, wearing a suit, and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. His face is dusted pink, and he offers you a proper dinner date.

“They’re still doing a couple’s discount,” upon seeing your face he adds, “and giving out free plushies.”

[konigofmyheart]

warming könig up

“lemme come warm you up, you been out in the snow/ baby my tongue goes numb, sounds like ho,ho,ho”

<MDNI>

(smut, blowjob, gn!reader, no actual mentions of christmas!)

° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★ ° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★ ° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★

you and könig rent a cabin in the woods for the holidays, taking advantage of his many accumulated vacation days (imagine the look of surprise on his superiors’ face when they saw his week-long time off request! they actually did a double take as könig had only ever taken an average of two days off each year- never around the holiday season- before he started dating you).

a couple days in, after amusing yourselves hiking through the woods to take in the scenery (thoroughly bundled up to stave off the chill of the snow), soaking in the giant hot tub in the bathroom (he can finally stretch out in a tub for once!), and having lengthy movie nights, könig ventures out to chop more firewood for the rustic fireplace in the den. the house is warm enough, but the moment you remarked how you loved the fireplace and how it makes the cabin feel amazingly cozy, könig made a vow to always keep it lit for you. you’d assured him it was fine, that you didn’t need it permanently lit, but he wouldn’t hear it. why shouldn’t his liebling get every single heart’s desire?

when he comes back in, shaking snow from his heavy winter gear as he hauls in bundles of wood, you apologize for the umpteenth time. “nonsense, schatzi, you have nothing to apologize for. i love doing things for you, being useful to you” he hushes as he sheds his layers and boots, walking over to where you sit on the couch armrest. he leans down, gently pulling you in for a kiss. you shiver, gasping softly at how cold his lips feel. “come here, kö. you’re freezing!” you fuss, leading him over to the couch and pushing on his chest to get him to sit. you place your blanket around his back like a cape before taking his hands in yours, rubbing warmth back into them. he brushes off your fussing, acting like he doesn’t live for your loving and doting.

your chest tightens with affection as you think of what a wonderful time you’ve had at this cabin thus far, all thanks to könig’s planning and effort. you settle on the floor before him, the plush rug cushioning your knees comfortably. “what are you doing, schatzën- ah” he ends with a hushed groan as you lean forward, nuzzling at his cock through his pants. “just thanking you for the perfect vacation, mein könig”, you flutter your lashes at him, your voice velvety soft.

his eyes darken like turbulent oceans at the sight of you looking up at him like that. it’d make anyone weak in the knees. your teasing nuzzling has his cock hardening, filling out to its full length, and the moment a barely-there whine slips from deep inside him, you move to undo his pants and free his cock. normally you’d tease him for longer, see how long he lasts before he gets truly needy, but this is supposed to be for his benefit, a thank you for everything he’s done to make this the best vacation ever. you gently brush your fingers against the tip of his cock before wrapping your hand around it, stroking him at a slow, steady pace.

“thank you for having this idea, first of all. then thank you for picking the prettiest cabin ever. thank you for letting me sleep the whole drive up here, although on the way back i’m definitely staying up to keep you company on the drive , and you’re going to wake me if i start nodding off, okay?” you pause for a moment, looking up at him expectantly

“okay, but you really don’t have to-” his breath catches, muscular thighs tensing as you keep up your steady pace on his cock, his precum dribbling down the side to help your efforts.

“thank you for cooking every meal, especially because you’ve made just my favorites- don’t think i didn’t notice. tomorrow i’m making your favorite, and i’m not hearing otherwise. understood?” you scold, rubbing your thumb over the tip of his cock. he nods quickly, a breathy “yes, schatzi, whatever you say,” slipping from his lips.

“…and, obviously, thank you for the fireplace. you always do everything to make sure i’m happy, and for that i can’t thank you enough, but i can try to do the same for you, hm? what do you think?” you’re leaning forward a bit now, your warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his cock. forgive him for his incoherent, stuttered response, he doesn’t really understand words at the moment, even less so when you place a teasing kiss on his tip.

you can’t help but laugh softly as you seal your lips around him, sucking gently, earning a strained groan from your man. he’s practically gone entirely pliant, the sight of such a strong, man falling apart because of you going to your head a little. your contented little hum sends torturously delicious vibrations down his cock, making him twitch inside your mouth. now, you know you could make him cum in seconds if you wished, but you really want to treat him, reward him for being so good. you maintain a steady, slow pace, easing more of him into your mouth with each bob of your head as you stroke the base with your hand.

you make sure to do everything you know he likes, maintaining eye contact as you sink your mouth lower, hollowing out your cheeks, swirling your tongue around his length as much as you can (it’s a bit difficult with how big he is; there isn’t much room left in your mouth). he’s practically floating in the clouds at this point, the way you’re sucking him off drives him crazy. time slows, suspending the two of you in this moment where you are all that exists for him, and he’s all you know. he’s looking down at you with such an affectionate warmth in his eyes, as if you hung the very stars in the sky. you’re sure your expression is no different, dutifully working your way down until the tip of his cock is brushing against the back of your throat. it took you a while to be able to take this much, and from the feel of what you’re still stroking, you still have a ways to go before you can take him all the way.

there’s time for that another day, though, and even könig seems to agree, his hands gripping the couch cushions as a way to stop himself from pushing you further than you wish to go. he’s always like that, putting you before him, isn’t he? you pull off his length, voice a little breathy as you praise him for keeping his hands to himself. that praise earns you a pathetic little whine, a sound that’d make him blush if he weren’t so close to cumming. you stroke his length with both hands as you catch your breath, cooing sweet words at him that he answers with groans and whines, his cock twitching in your hold.

“you wanna cum in my mouth? you know how much i like it, kö,” you tease, tilting your head to the side as you look up at him through your lashes. you kinda have to do this to get him to cum in your mouth, otherwise he’s insisting on just cumming all over your hands, not wanting to pressure you into swallowing it if you don’t want to, but now that you’re asking him for it… well, he did agree to “whatever you say”. he nods, a hushed “ja, schatzi, bitte” dropping from his now bitten lips. you smile, leaning forward to take his throbbing cock back into your mouth, warming it once more.

you look up at him with a special glint in your eyes, knowing all it’ll take is one more push. that push comes in the way of your free hand cupping his heavy balls, teasingly toying with them as you intensify your efforts, relishing in the way he trembles. he moans your name as he cums, the sound like music to your ears, spilling into your mouth with each twitch of his length. your muffled whine around his cock only adds to his pleasure, especially with how that makes your throat squeeze around his sensitive tip. careful not to overdo it, you maintain the pace of your hand and mouth, steadily working him through his high. you take his seed as it comes, swallowing every drop like you were made for it.

once he’s spent you pull off, panting softly as you lick your lips clean. “and now thank you for cumming for me like that, baby,” you tease, smiling as he pulls you up onto his lap, his hands soothing stroking your sides. he buries his face in your neck, little tremors still running through his body as he comes down. “i’d do anything for you, liebling. anything.” he whispers quietly, his breath tickling your neck before he pulls back, kissing you passionately. you melt against his body, answering his loving licks with your own, getting lost in the feeling of completeness. you’re more than surprised when he pulls away from the kiss, pushing you onto your back on the couch. he grins deviously as he settles between your spread legs, his big hands squeezing your thighs. “kö, what are you-”

“now it’s my turn to thank you for that, schatzi”

[justicepuppet]

It was just a Thursday. A day before his birthday, a date that he preferred to pretend didn't exist and didn't happen, but this day was nothing special. Another day working at the LeBlanc, another day struggling to pretend he had the personality to do customer service, another day heading home and dissociating until the next day came.

Only it wasn't quite just-- that today.

It wasn't particularly busier, but he did notice the whispers and the furtive stares of some of the customers who came in today. Akechi ignored them the way he always tried to do, but some of their words caught his attention.

That is him.

I really should have guessed.

Of course he'd be like that.

No wonder they let him take the fall.

I bet they were furious when they found out.

You'd think he couldn't find more ways to disappoint.

It was not the first time he had heard these types of whispers, but they felt so pointed today. The pitying look in Sojiro's gaze whenever he glanced over to Akechi only made it worse.

The answer over to just what this was in regards to became clear on a break. Checking the internet was just second-nature now, and one of the top articles had his name in the title.

Akechi didn't have to ask to leave early; Sojiro simply told him that they weren't busy enough to warrant him staying for the rest of his shift. A nod was the only response he had given before leaving, keeping his head down as he made his way back home.

It was his PR manager, the one he had fired - or, at least this was his guess over who the 'anonymous source' was. If not her then... maybe one of the people he had worked with under Shido's orders. There were plenty of people who had their careers abruptly destroyed once Shido's villainy was made public. Or maybe...

It really didn't matter. Knowing who had done it wouldn't change that it had happened. And it would blow over eventually. A few days and no one would care.

... that's just what he had to tell himself.

[tttabii]

— 박성훈 getting sick

park sung hoon x reader

۶ৎ note: non idol au! sunghoon x reader, college au, reader has a cat named tabi (top mentioned!)

IT HAD BEEN DAYS.

Days since he had heard from you, days since he had replied to any of Sunghoon texts about your joint project. Initially he thought it was just your busy, you know perhaps buried under the piles of college assignments that people had been whining about for a week.

It was too long without so much as one emoji from you, and suddenly it was all becoming too scary, and a little worry had started to creep in to his chest.

It was late afternoon when he said that's it. Fresh from the gym, his hoodie over his head and hair damp from a shower, Sunghoon headed to your apartment.

With his gym bag hanging from his shoulder, Sunghoon was thinking about how the distance from the gym was too short, the speed of his heart was not from the walk but from the lifeless stillness that was slightly gaping and following him up the stairs.

Your door was unlocked.

That alone made his stomach drop.

He barely hesitated, shoving the door open.

"Y/n!?"

The place was cold. Very cold.He saw you almost instantly, curled into a little sad lump on the couch, blankets wrapped around you like a moth in a cocoon, rooms wherever the bounded contorts of your body from blanket and tissue and a few coffee cups on the table until it looked good enough to eat off of.

Your hair was a sad looking messy, strands straying around you with static full velocity, your cheeks that were slightly bloodless against your skin, lips already cracked dry and in need of some moisture. Your nose was bright pink from all the sneezing and rubbing.

His chest twisted painfully at the sight.

"Oh my god," he muttered as he rushed to your side and dropped his gym bag on the floor with a thud. "Y/n, what the hell happened?"

You barely batted an eye at him, too weak to sit upright, your voice cracking when you attempted to speak, "M-my cat... was missing... I was out looking... for her..."

Sunghoon cursed under his breath and dropped to a knee beside your couch. His hands hovered over you for a moment, unsure how to touch you without causing pain. Eventually, he brushed the back of his fingers against your forehead—you were hot.

"You idiot," he whispered, but it was so quiet it sounded like a thankful prayer. "You should have called me. You're burning."

You mumble something unintelligibly and rolled your face into his hand, apparently seeking the coolness of his touch. That small helpless movement almost broke him.

Without hesitation, Sunghoon gently dove down and collected you up, making sure to not shake you too much while you leaned against him, fragile and hot, in his arms. He pressed his cheek against your forehead for a moment before letting out a shaky breath.

He needed to help you. Fast.

He put you down softly; covering you up as best he could. Then he went into your small kitchen and looted it for anything. He found fever medicine, a mug, and your kettle that he filled with water and put to boil for tea.

He kept peeking back at you to make sure you were still breathing comfortably. When he returned with the tea in one hand and the medicine in the other, you were half-awake and blinking slowly up at him.

God, you were so stupidly beautiful while sick, he felt like he could choke.

He sat down next to you, set the medicine and tea on the coffee table, and ran his hand through his hair in frustration at himself for not noticing sooner, for not coming sooner.

You laid there looking at him, your gaze fell, without meaning, down to the way his hoodie hugged his chest, the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips, the way forearms peeked out from under his sleeves so strong and tense because he had pushed them up.

Your fevered brain was walking down a precarious path, lingering over how cozy he looked, how warm, how safe. You quickly shut your eyes hoping to shake the thought away but it lingered heavy.

Sunghoon met your gaze. His chest felt tight, and he said nothing. Just smiled that soft, heart-wrenching smile he always saved just for you and encouraged you to lean up enough to sip the good tea. "You're not allowed to scare me like that again," he murmured, holding the mug carefully for you.

"I didn't mean to," you whispered, voice cracking.

"I know," he said, voice soft. "But still."

For a few minutes, it had just been you two, close and familiar, a different kind of tension beating beneath the surface—nothing like before.

He was your best friend. He had always been your best friend.

But tonight, wrapped up in your shared silence, your feeling, your feverish fog, something changed. And neither of you could pretend that it wasn't there anymore.

You hardly remember when sleep took hold of you. One moment, you were sipping the tea he offered you, the next your body felt heavy against the cushions. The exhaustion radiating from your body was impossible to ignore at that point.

The warmth of the blankets, the soft sound of Sunghoon's voice mumbling things in the dark that he hoped comforted you, and the gentle brush of his hand as he moved your hair from your forehead all blended together to create a soft lullaby that eased you to sleep.

You didn't notice him get up quietly and slip his shoes back on by the door. You didn't hear the small click of your door as he left you to the deep winter air again.

Sunghoon pulled his hoodie in tighter around himself, the air puffing out of his mouth as he jogged down the street. He should be inside taking care of you.

But he knew you wouldn't really be better again until Tabi returned. You'd risked everything for that cat. So he was going to risk anything to bring her home.

He shouted her name, his voice bouncing off the empty streets. He checked all the places you'd checked—the park you always went to, the alleyway behind the convenience store, even underneath random cars. 

His heart pounded harder every time he thought about you back home, sick and worried, wondering if Tabi was scared and cold somewhere too.

"Tabi," he called again, quieter, throat aching from the cold. "Come on, girl... she needs you."

It was as if Tabi heard the desperation in his voice because she gave one last desperate meow before silence.

Sunghoon turned around, quick to scan the shadows—and there she was. Small, shivering, dirt-speckled white fur, crouched under a bus stop bench.

"Tabi!" he gasped as he dropped to his knees. He clicked his tongue and murmured softly, took his time, ice-cold fingers cradling her before scooping her up into his arms. She clung to him immediately, meowing pitifully into his hoodie.

Sunghoon didn't even care that he was now covered in dirt and cat hair. He just smiled—wide and breathless—and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"You're going home, little one."

He burst back into your apartment moments later, breathing heavy from his sprint. He expected to find you awake—to see you bolt upright in surprise or yell at him for being out so late.

But you were still asleep on the couch.

Blankets tangled around your small frame, your hand clutched around the corner of one pillow, face soft and peaceful in the dim light of the living room. Your fever must've broken a little, he noticed—your cheeks weren't as pale anymore.

Quietly trying to not wake you, he tiptoed even closer with Tabi still safe in his arms.

As soon as the cat saw you, she jumped out of Sunghoon's arms and quickly padded across the floor to curl up next to you on the couch. She nudged your hand once, twice, and you moved a little with a sleepy smile across your face, instinctively moving in to cuddle her.

Sunghoon just stood there for a second, feeling so full.

God, he thought, looking at the both of you—a girl he couldn't help but love and her stupid little cat.

He smiled softly and dragged his fingers through his hair.

Maybe it would take you forever to understand how he felt. Maybe you were always going to be just friends.

But it didn't matter right now either way.

You were safe. You were warm. You were home.

And, he would stay next to you for as long as you would let him.

[francixoxoxo]

Ice Cold Lemonade ✿𓃒

Modern!Billy the Kid x reader

When your dad hires a charming new ranchhand, it’s not your fault he won’t stop looking at his bosses daughter. But it is your fault for looking right back.

part 1 of Ice Cold Lemonade

next

We are so back

Levi jeans. a taupe, sleeveless shirt. cowboy boots tucked under said levi's and scuffed from well-use. a navy hat smushing his hair to his slightly-sweaty forehead, but letting the dark locks at his nape curl.

Not to mention blue eyes that keep on finding their way over to you.

It's been a week since your dad hired him. You hardly even know his name, your dad just calls him Kid. Makes sense, seeing as the rest of the hands are pushing forty. Maybe he's a kid in comparison. But looking at him now, sipping the glass of lemonade you fetched yourself from the kitchen, he was all man.

He looks back up at you from where he's mending the wire fence to the cattle pen. You divert your eyes.

The heat was almost oppressive, you had the perfect excuse to wear the tiniest jean shorts you could find in your drawers and the flowiest white camisole. On the other hand, there wasn't a single excuse to be sitting out on the porch when you could practically get 3rd degree burns by touching the wood railing. Who cares? Wasn't like the Kid was gonna come up and ask you what you were doing, besides watching him bust his ass.

It's hardly your fault the man a good handful of yards away makes hard labor look good. Even from here you can see his large arms, skin tanned from working outside. His hat shades his eyes, but from the quick glimpses you've caught of him from behind your father's back, they're blue like the sky above. His broad shoulders raise and flex as he reaches for a nail to hammer the barbed wire into the fence post.

Maybe it's your fault for paying such close attention, actually.

He hadn't dared approach you. Your father's anger was a force to be reckoned with, he was smart enough to get that. You wish he was just a little bit dumber, little bit ballsier (you could clearly tell he had them, you thought to yourself with a grin, you hadn't spared his belt any glances). Though you'd just drop dead seeing him saunter up to you, all shoulders and chest and--

The lemonade glass meets the wooden side table with a clink, the rocking chair you were seated in is on a pendulum as you stand. You can hear Angharrad clawing at the screen door, she must've been getting antsy. You throw the new ranchhand a long look over your shoulder. Just as you move to step inside, he lifts his face, shaded eyes meeting yours.

You blow the air out your cheeks, looking back at a whining Angharrad. Jesus.

You rifle through the dish at the entrance table for a hair tie, pushing the keys to your father’s pickup and some loose change around the ceramic. Catching your own eye in the mirror, you put your hair into a high ponytail. Having hair on your neck in this head was a death wish, but more than that, you were careful to make sure it looked nice. You’ve never cared much about your appearance on the property before— but you guess that was before there was a new hire to try and impress.

Angharrad pushes her head into the side of your knee, her nails clicking on the hardwood as she pads twixt the screen door, and you. You tighten your ponytail, words coming out in a sigh, “I hear ya, baby, I hear ya,” You shake your head, watching the dog (a Great Pyrenees, a cattle dog bought by your father to work on the farm— though she spent more time on your heels than herding cattle,) bound outside the moment you open the door.

And right to the new ranch hand.

Who is leaning against the railing of the porch from the other side, his face twixt the wood posts, reaching through to scratch twixt Angharrad’s ears.

An easy smile rests on his face, his eyes creasing with it, and though it’s probably directed to your dog, his expression doesn’t falter one bit when he meets your stare.

Holy shit.

First words out his mouth don’t register in your brain. You shake your head a little, lifting your brows, feeling dumber than ever. “What?”

“I said, s’a cute dog.” The new hire chuckles, giving you a toothier smile. God, is he handsome. And his voice— it’s masculine and accented and now you just gotta keep him talking.

A smile parts your lips, too, one that you hope looks more shy than stupid. You settle back into your rocking chair, crossing your legs. “Thanks. She clearly thinks you’re cute too.”

Well, doesn’t that one make you proud. You work another laugh out of the Kid, he shakes his head and adjusts his hat on his dark curls. Now, you can get a serious look at his eyes. And it’s suddenly real difficult to tear yourself away from the brilliant azure of them. “M’ Billy,” he winds a hand around a post of the railing, the muscles of his arm shifting under his sweaty skin. Billy.

You give him your own name in exchange, and his brows lift. He dodges Angharrad’s sniffing snout— she really is head over heels for Billy— to call out, “Pretty name. It fits for a pretty girl, y’know.”

A laugh, clear as a bell, sends your head tipping back a little. You had to give it to him, he was charming as all hell. You peer at him over your glass of lemonade, shaking your head just a bit again. Billy’s eyes dart quickly over you, not long enough to make you uncomfortable, but he isn’t exactly hiding it.

“D’ya know who my dad is?” You grin at the way his lips turn downward in a dramatic, so what? expression. He nods.

“M’boss.” A shit eating grin cracks across his face.

“Your boss.” You agree. You watch him take off his hat, wiping his brow with the back of his hand as he walks to the stairs of the porch. Walking straight to you.

Now your stomach really does get fluttery— here was this handsome, no, gorgeous man, broad and even larger than you expected him to be this close up, looming over you and pointing to the half-full pitcher of cool lemonade.

“I don’t guess a sweet girl like you’d spare a glass of lemonade for a tired, workin’ man?” The grin on Billy’s face was just as clear in his words, the joke eased off his tongue with a natural charm that he clearly had in droves. You nod, that’s all you can get out, standing to your feet.

“I’ll grab you a cup,” you mutter, ducking away from him and hurrying inside, pushed by nerves. Weren’t you barely just gawking at this man from across the property, and here he was, calling you pretty, saying you were sweet?

Well, if you’d looked over your shoulder, you’d see an only slightly confused, and extremely enamored cowboy. When you returned back outside, Billy was sitting in the other chair, on the other side of the coffee table— his hat was in his lap, he was trying to ruffle some life into his hat-hair. Waiting ever so patiently for his boss’s pretty daughter, even reaching to scratch your dog’s ear again.

When you crossed over to him and began pouring him a cup, you could feel his eyes on you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not at all predatory— by the time you met his eyes, handed him the glass, there was a certain twinkle in his eyes. Charming, but not over the top. Not pushy.

Your hand grazed Billy’s for a moment longer than necessary, he drawled a low, “Thanks, miss.” You fell back into your chair, huffing through your nose as you watched him down the lemonade. It really was hot out here, you couldn’t blame him. New Mexican summers were no joke. And he was doing manual labor under the sun on top of it— though you didn’t feel entirely bad, he looked damn good doing it.

“I ain’t my dad, you can call me by name.” You jest, earning you another grin. You watch him rock back and forth on the chair, one leg pushing himself, his fingers fiddling with his belt— you shouldn’t be looking down there!

Billy hums and repeats your name in correction. It seems like he just sat down, but here he is, pushing himself to his feet and standing in front of you. He pushes his hat back on, you get a glimpse of his large arms, his defined biceps— maybe the heat is what’s making you feel dizzy.

“You ain’t got a guy, d’ya?” Straight to the point. Your eyes dart back down— damnit— to see he’s hooked his thumbs over his leather belt. When you meet his stare again, there’s that devilish smile. You shake your head no to his question. “Makes sense. If y’did, I don’t think he’d take kindly t’how y’been starin’ at me.”

The easy way it falls from his lips— you’re practically clutching your pearls. “I have not been—“

“Oh, yes you have, miss,” Billy interjects with a warm, rumbling laugh, his brows lifting in good fun. Clearly he found it funny more than anything. You find yourself a bit distracted by the crease of his eyes when he grins, the sun-kissed pink to his tan cheeks. His broad shoulders, revealed by his sleeveless shirt. Maybe you get a little ballsy, faced with all this in front of you.

“So what if I have?” You retort, the flirting filling you with a strange, overpowering yellow, from head to toe— a kind of excitement that you didn’t feel often, not from any guy. “You work for me, y’know.”

“Thought you said you wasn’t your dad, sugar.”

You stare at eachother a long, long few moments. You’re huffing, beat. He’s shifting his weight, putting forward a boot on the porch, glancing you over again. The gumption on this man was gonna send you up the wall, all-right.

It takes a while for you to find your words, and they come out in an astonished laugh. “Get back to work!” you half-jokingly shoo him off even though you want nothing more than for him to stay, sit back down, keep your jaw dropping, keep your chin tipping back with laughter.

“Cruel, cruel woman,” he mutters without any bite, his eyes falling to Angharrad spread out at your feet. He only smiles at his own joke when you giggle. And Billy turns, shakes his head at you, looks over his shoulder atleast twenty times, waves once and curses himself twice, even though he wants the exact same.

If you’d want him to risk his job to sit and tell you the worst jokes he has, drink up your lemonade, drink up the sight of you— he would. In a heartbeat, honest, he would, even just from that quick interaction. Even if your father came after him with a shotgun and ran him off this ranch, he has half the mind to slither right back in and sit at your steps. It’ll get to that point, all-right.

You’re gonna get this boy into so, so much trouble.

Lowkey don’t know how to feel abt this but baby steps!!

[insight-chronicles]

Drabble Challenge - Lotion

“Babe!” You yell from the bedroom to get your husband's attention.

“Yeah?” It’s a yell from the other side of the house

“I need your hand with something.” you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

“Of course, sweetheart, what do you need help wi-” Jinwoo’s voice trails off as he walks into the room seeing you in the new lacy lingerie you bought.

“I got some new lotion and thought you could help me apply it. It’s edible.” Almost before you can get the words out, Jinwoo is on you, and you fall back onto the bed.

Masterlist

[dedicatednotobsessed]

A Night in London [Ewan Mitchell x Wife!Reader]

Other HOTD stories

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

Summary: It’s been a year since we were blessed with London premiere Ewan and I’m going through House of the Dragon withdrawals (I miss my dragon bitches) so please enjoy this little drabble of going to the season two London premiere with Ewan.

Warnings in this one shot: Briefly mentions a past abusive relationship/abusive ex boyfriend.

Side note: This coordinates with another Ewan drabble I made. :) [Man of the Year one shot 💚]

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You leaned back against the headboard of the hotel bed, your eyes closed while you felt your husband rub oils into your cleanly shaven legs. You were currently in London promoting your latest project- the second season of House of the Dragon. You placed a hand on your rounded stomach, opening your eyes.

”I don’t know what I did to deserve such a caring husband to help me with my legs when I’m pregnant.”

Ewan chuckled at that. “Well, I want to prove I’m a worthy husband,” he replied teasingly, smiling up at you.

You returned his smile, running his fingers through his freshly bleached hair. “I think you have proven that time and time again, Mr. Mitchell.”

You met your husband, Ewan Mitchell, on the set of Netflix’s The Last Kingdom, playing his opposite, Fianna*, up to season four and he swayed you to audition as Aemond’s opposite, Adryana*, in HBO’s House of the Dragon, eventually leading you to gain the role.

You couldn’t be more thankful to have him in your life as your best friend and your soulmate. He was by your side when you were battling an abusive relationship, ending up in the hospital on more than one occasion because of Carson. The relationship ended abruptly when you told him you were pregnant, but Ewan stayed by your side every step of the way. He even moved in with you near the end of your pregnancy and became a fatherly figure to Evelyn.

You quietly dated while the first season of House of the Dragon aired and had a small, intimate wedding soon after the second season wrapped up. Fans were surprised to learn you were pregnant, but you haven’t revealed the face of the father, wanting to respect Ewan’s privacy. You were careful to not let the news of your marriage slip, going as far as removing your wedding rings before doing press.

”I still can’t believe you and Davey kept this hidden from me,” you said, doing one more sweep of Ewan’s hair before he helped you stand up.

”I wanted to keep it a surprise,” he told you with a small smirk, pulling you as close as he could and placing a hand on your bump while he leaned his head against yours. “What? You don’t like it?”

You hummed, smiling at Ewan. “Let’s just say if I weren’t pregnant, I certainly would be with the way you look,” you purred and laughed as his cheeks heated up. “It’s true!”

Ewan let go of you, his cheeks still flushed. “Y/N,” he mumbled before glancing over hearing the knock at the door.

”I hope you two are decent in there!” You heard Davey through the door.

You giggled, watching Ewan get the door where your stylist was holding your deep blue gown with a sequined bodice, the skirts and sleeves sparkly. It was in homage to Adryana’s season one dress; the Targaryen princess wearing blue sapphire dresses to show the love she had for her husband.

”The true superheroes are here!” You exclaimed with a sigh.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You smiled watching Ewan carrying a sleeping Evie into your hotel room, your daughter lightly drooling on his velvet jacket. She was wearing a pinstripe jacket and a light blue dress; she wanted to match her favorite person, Tom Glynn-Carney.

”As much as I love meeting fans and talking about the new season,” you began, slowly sitting on yours and Ewan’s bed, “but I can’t wait to go home.”

”I agree,” Ewan agreed with a chuckle, carefully laying Evie in her bed so he wouldn’t wake her. He grabbed her stuffed dragon that was in the likeness of Vhagar, a prop from the show that was given to her after the season was over because she portrayed their on screen toddler daughter.

You smiled, tilting your head and took Ewan’s hand when he turned to you, pulling him down. “You did so good, my love,” you whispered against his lips.

“So did you, darling,” Ewan replied, returning your kiss gently. He cupped your cheeks, deepening the kiss.

You released the kiss after a moment, leaning your head against his. “Do you think you can take my shoes off and rub my feet? They’re a little sore,” you asked with a small giggle.

Ewan hung his head but got on his knees with a wide grin on his features. “Whatever you would like, Cinderella,” he said with a wink.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

*Fianna and Adryana are my OCs for The Last Kingdom and House of the Dragon respectively*