#not sure if anyone will even see this since it’s been so long to since I’ve posted

[tj-is-down]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (Tyler Owens x Reader)

Back again with another random fic for y'all. This is not proofread, so don't hate me!

Summary: Tyler and the reader have been on and off "together" for years now, keeping it secret. Until, suddenly, one of them decides they might want more.

Word count: ~2.1k

Warnings: None except some swearing, and reader is described femininely in this one.

Here’s the thing about Humble Creek: everybody knows everybody. A small town made up of just under five thousand, there was nothing that anybody could do in secret, because if one person knew, then it was just as if they’d taken a bullhorn and announced it to the entire town.

Which made Y/N’s life all the harder. See, she did have a secret, and although it hadn’t gotten out yet, its secrecy was held in the hands of a monster. A tyrant, a tool, a pain-in-the-ass douchebag with a cowboy hat and a Texas accent.

Tyler Owens.

Y/N had known he was trouble since they were kids. Growing up on rival ranches, they were destined to be enemies, and even more so, to blur the lines. Y/N had never trusted him. Not because their families were constantly fighting, as she believed everybody deserved their own chance to prove themself, but because he had fucked his up, royally. 

In elementary school, middle school, high school, Tyler was always the talk of the town. Always with a girl on his arm, Tyler was confident, and everybody else was just putty in his hands. Y/N told herself she didn’t understand what people saw in him. 

She lied.

It started in eighth grade, when Tyler showed up in a too-big tux and a bouquet of flowers he’d handpicked from his family’s garden.

“You wanna go to the dance?” He asked, grinning cockily. Even then he knew how to charm, before he even knew what charm was.

Y/N’s dad had said no, absolutely no way, but Y/N was in her rebellious phase and so this only pushed her to say yes. She went out right then, in her mud-stained t-shirt and jeans, and they’d walked to the school together at seven p.m. and walked home together at nine. He’d kissed her cheek goodnight and she’d wiped it off, embarrassed.

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“And you’re pretty, L/N.”

On the next Monday he came to school with Cherry Lee.

Y/N tried to be mad. She tried to hate Tyler, to swear that she’d never talk to him or think about him or even look at him ever again. But two months later, when Tyler and Cherry broke up, he’d knocked on her door when he knew her parents weren’t home and, against her better judgment, she’d let him inside.

They’d been on-and-off “together” ever since.

Now, Tyler wasn’t single for long intervals, usually just a couple of weeks here and there, and he would never cheat, nor would Y/N let herself become a homewrecker (no matter how fragile the relationship), but when Tyler showed up on her doorstep, bouquet in hands and that look in his eyes, she knew she couldn’t say no. 

She was an adult now, but still, she couldn’t resist those eyes. Tyler had been single since before leaving for college, and when he came back it was like he’d never left. Sure, now he had a truck, a big name, a crew, and a YouTube channel, but he still had those eyes, and his family still had a garden with a never-ending supply of flowers.

He showed up on her door one morning, after her parents had left for church.

“Can I help you?” She asked, opening the door. As always, a t-shirt and jeans, dirty from the morning’s work on the farm.

“You’re not at church?”

“You knew I wouldn’t be.”

“Well, maybe the two and I can practice praying on our own? I think the first step is kneeling down; you wanna start?”

Y/N went to close the door, but Tyler’s hand reached out to prop it open.

“Come on, Darlin’,” he said, laying the accent on thick. “You want to go for a drive? I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“Hold the coffee,” she said, walking past him. “I’d rather not have anyone see us together.”

He grabbed her waist and stood behind her, kissing her neck. “We’ve been doing this for years, babe. No one’s gonna find out, I promise.”

She leaned her head towards him, breathing in the scent of firewood mixed with his cologne. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You gettin’ sappy on me?” He asked. Though his voice was soft, she could feel his smirk.

“Nope.” She pulled out of his grasp and got into the passenger seat of his truck. “We going, or are you just gonna stand there looking all doe-eyed?”

“For you, I’d stand here all day, sweetheart.”

“Just get in the car, Romeo.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*** 

They drove for a while, to the outskirts of town, when Tyler stopped the truck and leaned over. He kissed her lips, hard and slow, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. She reciprocated, holding his bicep, moving her mouth in tandem with his and letting herself fall into him.

“Why are you being so love-y today?” She asked after they separated.

“I can’t show my girl some love?”

“Is that what I am? ‘Your girl’?”

He shrugged. “Is that so bad?”

“You’re annoying, Owens.” She pushed his shoulder.

He mock-pushed her back as he said, “You’re pretty, L/N.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Seriously, though, there is something I wanted to talk to you about—”

Y/N scoffed. “Are you about to ask me out?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Okay, good.”

“Would that be so bad of me?”

“Kinda.” Y/N breathed a laugh, but when she saw Tyler’s face, serious and a little upset, she stopped. “I mean, it’s not like we have the best thing going on here anyways, and I just don’t want to be—” She paused, about to say heartbroken, or used, or a placeholder for when you find someone better, but Tyler cut her off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He started the truck, engine roaring to life. “It was dumb, nevermind. I’ll take you home.”

“Tyler, you know what I meant—”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re just messing around, right? That’s all this is, just messing around.”

He didn’t say another word on the ride home. 

He dropped her off, barely waiting for her to shut the truck door before he drove away.

***

Tyler didn’t answer any of Y/N’s calls or texts for the next few days. Y/N was upset, barely leaving her room checking her phone obsessively for any sign of Tyler Owens. She even started watching his YouTube channel, but there hadn’t been any uploads for over a month. Nothing on Instagram or Facebook, either.

Her mother yelled up the stairs to her one night, calling her down.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Her mom said upon seeing Y/N.

“This is what I always wear. Why?” Y/N was suddenly self conscious, confused as to why her parents cared what she wore in the house.

“Tonight’s the fair,” her mother responded, attempting to jog her memory.

“You’re helping us run our booth?” Her father tried.

“Ah, shit,” Y/N mumbled, remembering. “Do I have to go? I totally forgot.”

“Of course you have to go!” Her father said. “We need the three of us there; it’s a family ranch, remember?”

“Besides,” her mother added. “The Owens’s will be there. We can’t let them get a leg up on us! If you’re not there, Tyler will be running the show for sure.”

“Well, maybe not,” her father said. “He’s doing the kissing booth, remember?”

“The what?” Y/N said. “Tyler’s doing a kissing booth?”

Her father nodded. “To raise funds for his family’s ranch. He and his whole ‘team’ will be there, whatever they’re called.”

Y/N paused for a moment, trying to wrap her head around it all. Was that what Tyler was trying to talk to her about the other day? The kissing booth? But why would it matter what Y/N thought about it?

Her mother ushered her up the stairs. “For Pete’s sake, change into something nice, and quickly!”

Oh, shit.

***

The Humble Creek Fair was bustling with energy. People from nearby towns came to see what it was all about, and it was always the most popular time of year.

Y/N sat at her family’s booth, eyes peeled for Tyler. She kept checking her phone to see if he’d answered, but when she didn’t get any notifications she decided to take matters into her own hands.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said to her parents.

They both nodded, and her father added, “Make sure to see how the Owens’ booth is doing. I want to make sure we’ll still be in business next year.”

Y/N looked around for the kissing booth, and when she saw a long line of women, she followed it to the front. She walked around to the back of the attraction, but didn’t see Tyler anywhere. It wasn’t until she’d nearly given up entirely when she heard a voice behind her.

“What are you wearing?”

She whisked around, coming face-to-face with Tyler, who was holding some sort of weird meat on a stick.

“What are you eating?”

“Pork leg, fried and marinated in pickle juice,” he said, shrugging. “I’m hoping it’ll make my breath smell bad so less people come up. Now, back to you.”

“What about me?”

“You’re wearing a dress. You never wear dresses. ‘Jeans and a t-shirt, that’s me,’” he says, doing a poor impression of her.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes you do, but that’s besides the point. What’s your deal?”

Y/N shrugged uncomfortably. “I wanted to, I guess.”

Tyler looked at her dead-on. “You look nice, Y/N.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been texting you for days. No response. But now that I’m here, all I get is, ‘I look nice’?” 

“What else do you want from me?”

“An answer, Tyler. What’s your deal? Why didn’t you tell me about the kissing booth?”

“I tried to, but then you came at me with all that ‘this is a bad idea’ crap, and I figured you didn’t want me to tell you. Or you didn’t care if I told you or not.”

“Okay, so—”

“Wait.” He stops her. “Do you care?”

Y/N kicks the ground. “If I did?”

“If you did,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I’d drop the pork leg and kiss you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’d eat the pork leg, and I’d kiss a bunch of people who aren’t you, and I’d feel like shit about it.” He took another step closer to her, nearly closing the gap between them. “Please say you care.”

“Ugh,” she scoffed. “You’re gonna make me say it? You can’t just, like, infer from the situation?”

“I’m really bad at inferring things,” he said, a cocky grin on his face. “So, I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“You’re pretty, L/N. Like, so pretty. But I do need to hear you say it, and I’m also gonna need you to—”

“I care, Tyler. Now shut up and kiss me, or I’m gonna take it back.”

“Can’t take it back, babe. It’s set in stone.”

In one fluid motion, he dropped the pork leg, grabbed Y/N by the waist with his other hand, and pulled her into a kiss. It was deep and passionate, not like any of the other times they’ve kissed. They kept it going for as long as they can, holding their breath until they couldn’t anymore, and then they pulled apart, gasping for air with their foreheads touching.

“Will you go out with me?” He asked her, still struggling for air. “Like, on a real date, not just driving in the truck?”

“I guess,” Y/N said, teasingly. “If I have to.”

“I mean, you don’t have to. But if you do, I’m gonna need you to wear this again.” He grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, if that’s even possible. “Because, if I’m being honest, L/N, this is the hottest I’ve ever seen you. Like, I didn’t think you could get hotter, but here we are. Speaking of, can we go? I really want to go somewhere with you. Like, privately.” He winked at her, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes again.

“Don’t you need to raise money for your farm?” She asked him, gesturing to the booth behind them.

“Fuck the farm,” he said. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy, yeah?”

“Fuck off,” she said, pulling him into another kiss.

“Seriously though, can we go?”

[tpwk-formula1]

Hiii, can I please order a Thin Crust with red sauce, olives, salami, kielbasa. As for drink, I would have a pink lemonade, and truly, I also want desserts. With Franco Colapinto (hope it isn't too much)

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex olives "Swallow every last bit. NOW!" salami "Such a little cum slut" kielbasa "A preschooler is better behaved than you are" pink lemonade degrading kink truly belly bulge served by Franco Colapinto

Franco x Albon! reader

TW - rough sex, belly bulge, riding cock, face fucking, squirting, cum swallowing

WC 785

Y/N POV

"Franco," I hiss when he was finally able to get me into his driver's room.

"Stop fucking talking to the other drivers," Franco snaps after having caught me talking to Lando and George after quilifying had finished.

"Franco I have know those guys since I was a child. They've been there for my brother for as long as I can remember," I hiss before France is pushing me against the wall behind me and pulling me in for a rough kiss.

"Stop being so insecure. Carmen and I are friends I would never fucking do that to her and quite frankly Lando is like another brother to me," I snap at Franco when he doesn't say anything but still doesn't let me up from the wall.

"A preschooler is better behaved than you are," Franco snaps clearly pissed off at me calling him out.

"Shut up Franco," I snap back at him which had him quickly pushing me down on my knees where he's yanking down his fireproofs that were already sitting on his hips while making sure to drag his briefs with them.

"Suck it now," Franco snapped making me whimper before I open my mouth and let Franco shove his cock down my throat.

I gag around his cock trying to push his hips back but with my head against the wall, there's not much room for me to move.

"Fuck, I love watching you cry when my cock is buried in your throat," Franco groans making me whimper and close my eyes submitting to the face fucking.

"Get up," Franco snaps while pulling my hair and leading me to the couch in the corner of his room where he sits down and starts stripping off the little summer dress I had thrown on.

He roughly starts rubbing his fingers through my folds feeling all over wetness that has been dripping drop my pussy.

"Fucking whore," Franco laughs before pulling me into his lap and pushing my hips down filling my pussy with his thick cock.

"Franco," I moan when I'm fully seated on his cock. I let Franco grip onto my hips and bounce me on my cock using my pussy like I was just another toy for him to use.

"Look," Franco says while pushing my head down letting me see the bulge he had created in my tummy from his thick cock.

"Franco," I gasp when my mind finally processes that Franco is so big that he can leave a small bulge in my tummy.

I can see the cocky smirk written across Franco's face making me whine.

"I fucking love destroying you for anyone else," Franco tells me when I throw my head back feeling the fast-approaching orgasm.

"Go on, cum for me," Franco says when he feels me clenching around his cock. I instantly start cumming all over Franco even squirting a bit of my pleasure onto his stomach.

"Such a good little cum slut," Franco says while helping ride out my orgasm before he roughly pulls me off his cock and shoves me back onto my knees where he roughly takes my messy hair into his hands and pushes his cock into my mouth.

While I'm bobbing my head on Franco's cock I can feel him bucking up into my throat to match my strokes before he starts cumming down my throat in a loud shout.

"Fuck, swallow every last bit. NOW!" Franco says roughly while holding my head down to make sure I swallow everything before he's softly slipping out of my throat, and pulling me back into his lap.

"Fuck you did so good for me," Franco says still out of breath from his orgasm.

"So good," I mumble softly not wanting to talk too loud since my throat was quite sore.

"But Franco, you have to realize I grew up around a lot of these guys, I promise nothing will ever happen between me and any of them," I tell him softly while stroking his hair in a calming manner.

"I know, it's just hard knowing I came in mid-season and you've grown up with some of them meaning they know you more than I do," Franco replies making me smile.

"Well they've had years to try and win me over, you came in a month ago and managed to wiggle your way into my life, nothing to be worried about," I tell him softly before kissing his lips again.

"But if you're gonna be fucking me that good every time I talk to another driver, I might just start having to flirt around a bit more," I tell Franco with a smirk making him slap my ass as a warning.

[harrytheehottie]

JUNO

WORD COUNT: 2K MASTERLIST this is a part of the short & sweet fic challenge @harry-on-broadway let me know what you think 💘 hope you enjoy!

The sun was casting a warm golden glow through the windows of your living room as you sat on the couch. Harry was in the kitchen making your nightly tea as you rested on the sofa. It was a peaceful evening, like many that you have shared over the last three years. This familiar feeling and routine was something you cherished especially with the hectic schedule Harry’s life could bring.

A year ago, he finished his two year long world tour. It was an incredible feat and one that was an emotional roller coaster since it began. He had his entire life planned from the minute we all went into lockdown to the final show in Italy and these last seven months were spent just making up for lost time. He was always home when you came back from work, he was the one that was traveling on your schedule and your terms. It was a great change from how your relationship was before. You didn’t have to anticipate the day that he was going to go away for weeks at a time because you were a part of that decision making now and it only made the two of you stronger as a unit. 

You glanced at the framed photos on the mantel: you and Harry in various stages over the last three years--goofing around backstage at Coachella, the night he turned his green room in MSG into a home theater and begged security to let you two spend the night after you just got off a six hour flight to surprise him for his last show. It was the simple moments that were your favorite, the picture of you walking through the Heath, a cup of coffee and pastries in tow for your favorite weekend tradition of a Saturday morning picnic. 

This was the first year that you were able to think about the future just as it pertained to you and Harry. You didn’t have to think about how your life decisions factored into anyone else's. You always knew you wanted to have a family. He was always going above and beyond for the children in his life not just by spoiling them with gifts but checking up on them and making sure they knew that he was always there. And this became more apparent when he became an Uncle. He was always the first to offer up babysitting so his sister and her partner could enjoy some quality time, even making the trek up to Cheshire to watch his cousin's children if they asked.

So, when Harry walked back into the living room with a cup of tea for you and snacks for himself you sort of blurted it out before you had the chance to second guess the right time for this conversation. 

“I’m ready to have a baby.”

Harry’s eyes widened, completely caught off guard, “What?” almost second guessing what you just said. 

You take a deep breath, your heart racing realizing that you are not going to be able to take those words back. “I’ve just been thinking, we have talked about the future a lot as this far-fetched idea but we’re here now and…” you paused looking up at him, his expression shifting from the initial shock, he leaned closer, taking your hands in his. You knew how Harry worked and the subtle shift in energy was all you needed to continue, “I know not to think, I know I’m ready… for that next step.” 

A moment of silence stretched between you as he processed your words “You really mean that?”

“More than anything,” you admitted, looking into his eyes. “I can’t imagine going through that journey with anyone else. And it just feels good right now, us, we are so good right now and there is just no reason to wait.” 

Harry’s expression softened, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “It’s a big step, probably one of the biggest steps we will ever take together.” 

“Will we ever truly be ready?” You chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Life is unpredictable, but I want this with you.I want to build a family together.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the window. “I’ve thought about it too,” he finally said, turning back to you. “I want that. I’ve always wanted it honestly. I remember the first time you met Ruby and the way she was instantly drawn to you. S’probably when the thought first crossed my mind.”

You remembered that day. You were so incredibly nervous to meet Harry’s close group of friends. It was Ruby -- his God daughter’s 4th birthday. You had only been dating for around three months at that point. You remember stressing about what to buy her as a gift and even though Harry promised no one would think twice if you showed up empty handed. You still scoured the internet looking up every list of ‘best gifts for a 4 year old girl’ and settled on a Peppa Pig Camper Playset with all the characters. And to say it was a hit was an understatement. The two of you still joke about how as soon as Ruby opened her present she demanded that you stay after to set up the toy and play with her. 

Harry remembers watching the way you were interacting with Ruby and how her father, Ben made a comment about how he had never seen Harry so fixated on someone before like he had you. It was still early days but he always went back to that moment and how it led you to where you are now. 

“So, are we ready to do this?” You asked with a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. 

“You know, if we really want to be serious about this. We’re going to have to start practicing.” Harry teased pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his body against yours as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative like he was emphasizing the importance of the moment you just shared.  

You pulled away first, a smirk on your face, “Hmm.. practice? I’m feeling a little tired right now,” You teased with a wide yawn stretching your arms over your head. The playful banter that you know drives him crazy. Harry moves his hands to cup your face, his thumb glazing over your lips again, “C’mere” he whispers. He begins kissing down your neck, leaving small kisses along his path from his lips. You move your hands through his hair, as he scoots back on the couch, pushing your shirt up in the process and you help to take it off.

The kisses continue. He’s moving down your neck, between your cleavage and he stops right at the top of your stomach. His hands that were holding yours moved to touch your belly — picturing what was going to happen next. The commitment to a family and how you would be the home for his future baby. You were almost tearing up at the sight of him and just how careful he was already, always putting your needs first and making you his priority. 

“You’re gonna have to use your words, baby,” You whisper as Harry moves his hands to the waist of your pants. You are already ready for him and he knew it just by how much you were wiggling under him trying to get him to move faster.

“I want you,” he says in a low breathy tone before helping you get your pants off. You move your weight onto your forearms to get a good view of him. You watch as Harry slides your underwear to the side, a rush of pleasure washing over the both of you. “So wet for me…” leaving his lips as he moves his fingers up and down your slit. The juxtaposition of the sexyness and tenderness of the moment right as he slid one and quickly two digits in pushing his fingers in and out. The pleasure washing over your body, the whimper of ‘Oh yes’ and ‘Baby’ a moan escaping your lips as you rode out your first orgasm. 

His lips are immediately back on yours as you slide your hand into his pants pushing his joggers off trying to keep every part of your body touching. After being in a relationship for three years you still periodically used contraceptives especially when you are in the thick of it with his work never wanting anything to come in the way of jeopardizing this unspoken tension between the two of you. And tonight, was going to be and feel different, no more trying to locate the last spot you left condoms going on stretches of time of just trying the process. This was intentional and you felt the mutual giddyness as you slid your hand down his length pumping him once, twice, three times before Harry is ready for you. 

“M’not gonna last very long,” he says before aligning your hips before pushing in deep. Taking a couple of deep breaths as you move your hips along with Harry as you adjust to the familiar feeling of him inside you. Harry leans his head toward you leaving kisses all over him, your nails dragging up and down his back. 

“Tell me it feels good,” You whispered the sounds of your mutual pleasure echoing in the room. 

“Feels so fuckin’ good, always s’fuckin good” Harry was moving faste and harder meeting your gaze right before letting himself go inside you. His body collapsing on top of you as both tried to catch your breath from the pleasure. You had your arms wrapped around his body wanting to keep the warmth of his body on you forever. 

You cleaned yourselves up and spent the rest of the night thinking about your future and how you were going to take that next step forward. Harry was your safe space and you were his. You both knew that this next step forward would be unlike anything you’ve done before but you were both ready, as a team to make this next step. 

And one day, you will be in this same living room waiting for Harry to finish making a bottle for your future baby - and boy, could you not wait. 

[jinnie-ret]

placebo

stray kids x hybrid!ninth!reader (fem)

genre: light angst, mostly fluffy

content warnings: small swearing, mention of disease, mention of vaccination

word count: 1.8k

summary: the boys are shocked at how your hybrid features present themselves when you are feeling particularly emotional

requested: @shua-f4lmings

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How could it ever work being a Kpop idol when you were forced to hide a part of our identity every day? Well, you managed somehow. Despite the fact that you were a hybrid, JYPE still accepted your audition and allowed you to become a trainee. You felt fortunate that you didn't face direct discrimination from the company, considering you were part of a rare few, an experimental collective, of children that had turned into hybrids against their will. You see, there had once been terrible news of a new outbreak of an autoimmune disease breaking out, during your childhood, so when a vaccination was created, your parents had rushed at the opportunity to make sure you were safe. Little did you know, did anyone know, that it was in fact a scam. The disease - a hoax. The vaccination - contained a serum that caused you to experience genetic mutations and develop physical attributes very similar to a cat, all because of some deceiving scientists that wanted to experiment.

Luckily, you had learnt to love yourself and your feline features. Your fluffy black ears that helped your hearing become more sensitive, and perhaps even more attuned to music, your tail that would swish and perk up anytime you saw your members or somebody you loved, these all became things that you appreciated. It truly showed your strength and determination to not let anybody get you down, particularly when you used to feel like the black sheep, or, black cat, of the family.

You remember that it was not too long after Chan had gathered you all together as a unit, pre-debut, that you decided to reveal this side of you. After all, you could only wear baggy sweatshirts and beanies for so long.

"Guys, can I tell you something?" you spoke up after you were all sat evaluating a dance practice.

"I think we really should practice this dance again, can it wait?" Chan pondered, not wanting to miss any rehearsal time, especially since the new TV debut show was on the horizon.

"Please, it's important," you had urged them all, your future group members, not wanting to withheld this information from them for any longer.

"Ok, sure," Chan nodded and turned his phone off, before everyone was looking at you as you stood up.

"Is everything ok?" Hyunjin frowned.

"Yeah, I just want to share this side of myself to you. I've not been honest," you began, confident in yourself, just unsure about what their reactions would be.

"If we're going to be a group..." Changbin tilted his head.

"-that's why I'm telling you now! Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you. Umm," you apologised, feeling guilty.

"It's ok," Changbin nodded, seeing the weight of the situation in your eyes.

"Please can you just tell us? The suspense is killing me," Jisung groaned, whining after when Minho smacked him on the back without even looking.

"I don't know how to say it so..." you had taken a deep breath before pulling your beanie off, ruffling your hair back into plsce and ultimately revealing your ears. It had seemed like some sort of headband at first, but seeing the way your ears twitched and pointed at sharp intakes of breath or gasps in the room, showed that they were very real.

Poor Felix was incredibly confused. It was hard enough for the Australian boy to follow the conversation, and even harder to make sense of things as he saw your fluffy cat ears on top of your head.

"What the-" Jeongin's jaw dropped.

"Why are your ears moving like that..." Seungmin was astonished.

"I'm a cat hybrid. There was an experiment gone wrong a while back, masked as a 'cure', a vaccination, when really it was an experiment. So, umm, yeah, I'm sort of like a test subject.." you trailed off as Chan came to stand in front of you, raising his hand slightly.

"Can I touch your ears?" he questioned, which honestly wasn't what you were expecting. Instead, you thought it was time for him to go into his words of wisdom mode, but really even he couldn't avoid his own curiosity, as he waited for your response.

"Oh, yeah sure," you shrugged, a smile working it's way into your face as you felt a soothing scratch and pat to the head. It was so relaxing that you shut your eyes for a moment.

And when you opened your eyes...

"My turn! My turn!" Han was suddenly in front of you, Seungmin and Jeongin surprisingly waiting too.

"Wow, so cute!" Hyunjin was looking at you with the biggest heart eyes, and you could also lightly hear Chan explaining to Felix what had just transpired.

"Cute, haha," Changbin chuckled, stood next to you and observing your reactions.

"So you guys don't find it weird then?" you laugh as you ask, knowing that they were entranced.

"No! Never!" Seungmin shook his head.

"Me?" Felix came up behind Seungmin, half hugging his arm before asking permission to also pet your ears.

"Yes," you smiled reassuringly at the shy Felix.

The only one of the boys who hadn't interacted with you after you revealed your big secret was Minho, and perhaps that was because he simply couldn't comprehend that his fellow band member he had naturally grown protective over was also part cat. His favourite animal by a mile.

"I knew there was something feline about you," Minho hugged you tightly, the only one not to go straight for the ears.

"That's all the approval I needed."

Post revelation, you were able to feel even more relaxed around your members at the dorms, and wow, when they saw your tail, to be frank, they lost their shit. That was a story for another day though. You had more important things to think about them, such as the meeting that had been scheduled with the company before filming began. Understandably, in your opinion, they had found some medication, hybrid suppressants, that would hide your features. Some people would have been offended by the gesture but in reality, you were relieved. You just wanted to debut and you didn't want to take any attention away from the boys with your obvious differences in genetics. Although the first day of taking the pills felt rough, especially with your body having to withdraw physical features, you went through with it, initially explaining to the boys that it's what you wanted. Whether they believed you or not at the time, you weren't sure, until today...

"No way!" you gasped, clutching the blanket for dear life as you sat up from your comfy spot curled up on the sofa. Once again, you had chosen to use your vacation off from work as a chance to binge watch your favourite show, and finally, you had made it to the end.

"Don't roll credits, don't roll credits, don't- NO!" you cried out in disbelief. As if they had just killed off your favourite character. You sobbed, curling into yourself, ears flat against your head and tail curled up against you, like you were trying to protect yourself from the TV screen even though you had already turned it off and thrown the remote away from you in distress.

You hadn't realised that your hybrid features had popped out, not that it would be a problem as you were on break, but you must have forgotten to habitually take your tablets, the ones you bad taken the previous day finally wearing off. Even with the box being on the coffee table in front of you, the idea had left your mind.

It was long forgotten now.

It was a pitiful sight, the way you were trembling as you cried, but with your physical hybrid features also came mental ones, emotional ones, instincts that you couldn't help but follow. That emotional attachment that cats found with their people, happened to you and your favourite TV show. You felt hurt, betrayed, distraught.

"Rori?" Minho was the first to call out in concern, as the boys piled in from their outing at the beach. Yes, Rori, that was your stage name. It was a running joke between you all that Minho adopted Dori and her namesake was because of you. They weren't that dissimilar right?

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Felix called out in confusion, still taking off his sandy shoes by the front door. The boys had wanted you to come along with them, but you hated water, and would much rather laze around in the comfort of your own home.

"Aigoo, your tail is all fluffy," Jeongin patted your head, yet you continued to cry. The eight boys looked between each other in confusion until Jisung spotted the medication on the table and looked at Chan pointedly, hoping he took would connect the dots he had just found.

"Oh, Rori, we thought you didn't like taking the, it's ok. It'll be ok, we'll sort this," Chan rubbed your back gently.

"We can announce it to the fans," Hyunjin suggested, and the others nodded along.

"We'll have a word with the company," Changbin added, their plan already formulating before your very eyes.

"They'll still love you," Jisung didn't like seeing you cry.

"They won't care, you're still the same person," Seungmin spoke up, last to enter the room. He had soon caught onto the situation though, only after rinsing his feet from the sand that lingered. He couldn't barely the itchy feeling.

"What are you talking about?" you sniffled, lifting your head out from your arms and your ears lifted in curiosity.

"Aren't you sad because of, you know, having to take the tablets...?" Chan was confused, so much so that his hand had even stopped it's comforting motions on your back.

"No!!" you cried out, tail fluffing up even more, irritation flaring up ever so slightly as you wished you didn't have to explain yourself. It would much easier if these humans just knew what you wanted!

"Oh," Minho pursed his lips in thought.

"Then what's wrong?" Jeongin urged, eager to hear what was truly wrong.

"-died! It's not fair! They were my favourite and they were so kind and-" you whimpered tearfully, already having flashbacks of the final episode you and just watched.

"It's because of a show?!" Felix rose his eyebrows in surprise, leaning back to try and see your whole face.

"Really?" Seungmin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's not just a show!!!" you wailed louder, tail swishing now as you felt a mix of sadness and annoyance.

"Ok it's not just a show, we know that, chill, kitty," Jisung patted your head but Minho nudged him warningly, knowing you didn't like that nickname.

"Ji-" you huffed.

"But it's definitely not because of the suppressants, right?" Changbin cut you off, which was annoying at first, having being interrupted twice in a row, yet you were appreciative of the change in topic.

"No, no, I don't care about taking them. I'm fine with that," you took a deep breath and wiped your remaining tears away, "I just might need 2-3 business days to recover."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @kpopmenace143 @haodore @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @2minstan @skzoologist @lovingchan @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria @theo4eve @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse

[nerdy-novelist017]

Soaked (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Reader pt 8)

Hello, my lovelies! Sorry this took forever to write and post but I’ve been very busy with real life (ew) and I’m actually posting this while I’m on vacation. I wrote it on the plane and am posting in the car so please be kind if you see any mistakes hehe 😉

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 4.7k+

Summary- Benny’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to marry you, but with such different lives, you’re not so sure it will be as easy as he claims.

You felt the wind surge around you as Benny accelerated down the main road, his motorcycle roaring beneath you both. The world blurred past in a whirlwind of colors, but all you could focus on was the way your heart lifted, how a thrill of excitement shot through you as you zoomed past the rest of the gang. He did it just because he knew it’d make you giggle. And you did, the sound escaping you in a way that felt so carefree, so full of joy especially as you shot past Johnny and the others, leaving them in your dirt.

The wind was relentless, blowing your hair out of its carefully manicured braid, but you didn’t find yourself caring much anymore. The days spent with Benny had a way of shifting everything you thought had mattered. The things that once held so much weight – social status, gossip, public appearances – no longer seemed as important anymore. With Benny, it was almost like discovering a whole new world. No, not a new world. The same streets passed beneath the tires, the same faces you once worried about still existed. The world was still the same, but it was how he viewed it that felt so different. He didn’t care what others thought about him, didn’t pay attention to their expectations. He lived in his own world, surrounded by others like him that didn’t conform to the societal molds – people that you wouldn’t have even approached just based on their appearance. You never considered yourself a very judgemental person, but because of Benny, you have met and befriended people you could have never imagined.

That’s one of the things you loved about Benny. He wasn’t like anyone you had ever met before. He was different. And you were beginning to love that too.

He pulled off the main road, stopping in his signature spot in front of the club house. The roar of the rest of the gang pulling up sounded in the distance as Benny helped you off the bike. He held his grip on your hand, lacing his own fingers through yours as he pulled you gently into the bar. You followed him inside where the Vandals’ laughter and chatter soon filled the air. A familiar buzz of camaraderie enveloped the place, and before long, you found yourself seated around the table with a few of the core members. Benny was close – as always – with his arm draped over your shoulder.

“Hey, Bunny,” Cockroach’s voice cut through the sea of noise as he leaned forward and used his beer bottle to point at you. “When are you finally gonna say yes to our boy Benny, here?”

You stiffened slightly, the weight of the question hanging in the air and drawing the attention of the others at the table.

“Oh yeah,” Corky piped up, one eyebrow playfully cocked in a challenge. “He’s been asking, what, 100 times now? What’s the holdup? He’s not getting any younger, ya know?”

Heat filled your face at their teasing. Though Corky’s words were a bit of an exaggeration, they weren’t technically wrong. Since your kiss behind the clubhouse, Benny has asked you to marry him almost every day, sometimes more than once in a day. It had started by him mentioning married life in casual conversation, and you jokingly pointed out that he hadn’t actually proposed to begin with – not traditionally. And you were shocked to see him abandon everything he was doing in the moment to ask you to marry him. You giggled and rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but something deeper inside you caused your heart to flutter nervously. Since then, he’s asked several times, some in passing, a casual remark slipped into the conversation. Other times, he’d pause what he was doing, drop to one knee and grin up at you as if he were waiting for you to give in. But each time you’d laugh it off, brush it aside as him being unserious.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment?” you replied as you timidly played with the chain of your necklace, trying to deflect the attention.

“The right moment?” Cockroach parroted in disbelief. “He’s been proposin’ left and right for a week. Hell, I’d have said yes after the first time if it were me!”

The group laughed, and you tensed under Benny’s arm, wanting to melt into the floor from embarrassment. Benny squeezed your hand reassuringly, and he leaned, his voice dropping to a low murmur that was only meant for you, “They don’t mean nothin’ by that, you know that.”

You nodded, not trusting your own voice. He was right, you knew that. They didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but the constant razzing – especially with this particular subject – was start to weigh on you.

“Yeah, c’mon, Bunny,” Cal chimed in from across the way, “What’s it gonna take? Benny’s a catch! He’s got the bike, the looks, the . . . mommy’s issues. If you don’t say yes soon, you might lose your chance.”

That playful jab was too much for Benny who stiffened next to you. You expected him to get angry, to blow up like you had seen your father do when he was upset. But instead, Benny leaned forward, eyes narrowing with a playful glint that you had come to adore. The table was buzzing with laughter, but he wasn’t about to let the spotlight stay on you for too long. Without missing a beat, he flashed a grin at Corky, his hand raised as he said, “Alright, alright. But let’s not pretend you all ain’t desperate for a distraction since none of you can keep a bike upright without fallin’ on your asses.”

The table roared with laughter and Corky’s mouth fell open in mock offense. “That was one time! And I had an oil slick!”

Johnny immediately jumped in, “Yeah Corky, an oil slick you created when your bike was leakin’ everywhere.”

Laughter erupted again and you shot Benny a grateful look as the guys started ribbing Corky about his infamous fall. Benny’s eyes met yours briefly, his thumb brushing your hand under the table in a silent message: I’ve got you. Most of the group knew you were shy and did not appreciate being the center of attention in a crowd, and they respected that. However, there were a few class clowns (as Benny called them) who loved to tease you, knowing it could get a reaction without fail. But Benny never let it go on for long, always shutting them down when he recognized your discomfort.

They’ve never teased you about marriage though. You had to wonder if Benny had voiced his irritation to them at some point or if they had picked up on your hesitation organically. Either way, it left you feeling bad. Excusing yourself, you wiggled out of Benny’s grasp as you stood and made your way for the restroom, needing a moment to breathe, to clear your head. But just as you reached the back of the bar, a voice stopped you.

“You ain’t gotta worry about what they say to you,” Funny Sonny stood leaning casually against the bar top as he sipped a glass of whiskey. “That just means they like you, accept you.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder at the table of rowdy bikers. “I’m just not . . . used to it. All the teasin’.”

Sonny nodded, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he grinned. “You’ll get used to it. Won’t be long till you’re the one throwing out the first jabs.”

He said it so nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious course of action, as if you weren’t from completely different worlds. You furrowed your brows, eyes casting downwards as you admitted, “I’m not so sure about that. I’m not at all like you guys.”

“You don’t gotta be like us to be with us. We’re family here and family means lookin’ out for each other, even the ones who came from different backgrounds,” he said, his voice lowering a register to a bit more of a serious tone.

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, the concept so foreign yet so familiar. Family. You knew what that was, you had one, you were loved by one. But for some reason, it felt like it meant something different with the Vandals. They chose their family, stood by them despite no blood relation. Your parents loved you, you knew that. They showed it in their own ways every day. But by default, they had to love you. With the Vandals, they chose to care for each other, chose to look out for each other. In a way, it almost seemed more powerful, more profound.

Being Benny’s girl didn’t just mean he alone had your best interest at heart. It also meant having the rest of the Vandals on your side too, all of them looking out for you. You weren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced such an intense loyalty before, even from blood relatives. And it left you with a warm feeling in your chest.

When you returned to the table, Benny was already standing as if he were waiting for you. His eyes met yours with a slight unease, almost like he thought you wouldn’t come back, like he thought you were so upset that you’d sneak out the backdoor.

“Wanna go for a night ride?” he asked, his voice soft as his hand extended out for you.

Your heart squeezed at his thoughtfulness. He knew how much you were growing to enjoy the feeling of blazing down the empty streets under a star-filled sky with him. A smile tugged at your lips, and you took his hand without hesitation, nodding.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as your hand slid into his own. You were vaguely aware of the groans and exaggerated protests from the table about the night being still young, but you didn’t hesitate to follow Benny as he led you to the door. He pulled you along to his Harley, the cool and fresh air a welcome change.

The tension from earlier still lingered as Benny’s hand touched your leg, helping you onto the back of the bike. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your face into his back, finding solace in the familiar scent from his jacket.

He drove you around the city, stars and stop lights shining above, engine roaring below. He eventually pulled off the main drag, heading down a quieter road that led out of town. The blacktop blurred beneath you as he slowed the speed to more of a lazy joyride. He took a familiar turn, stopping at the small pull off area before a bridge. The sound of the engine faded as he brought the bike to a stop, the air filling with crickets’ song. The night’s air was breezy, but a welcome change from the hot, loud atmosphere of the clubhouse.

Benny dismounted first, reaching out to help you down. His touch – lingering longer than necessary – against your arm felt electric, sending a jolt of butterflies to your stomach, his eyes searching your face as if he was trying to read your thoughts. The two of you walked over the concrete bridge, pausing once in the middle. You leaned over the railing, getting lost in the gentle swirl of the water below. But Benny was lost in the sight of you.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low, the usual playful teasing replaced by something softer and reserved only for you.

With your heart beating hard at his gentle tone, you nodded. “I’m fine.”

He frowned, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. “I know the guys can be a bit much. I don’t like when they tease you like that. I didn’t mean for them to make you uncomfortable.”

You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his words, knowing that wanting to protect you was something he took very seriously, even if it meant from his own friends, his own family.

“I know,” you responded softly, leaning your chin on your hand over the railing.

“I’ll talk to them, make sure they won’t raz you like that anymore,” he promised, his expression serious.

“It’s not that. It’s just . . . I don’t know. It’s a lot to get used to,” you admitted gently. Before Benny, you’d never even been in a bar before, never ridden a motorcycle, never stayed out past curfew. He was a completely different experience than you were accustomed to. And now he wanted you to marry, after only knowing him for a few weeks. He wanted to be your husband, your partner for life. Your life felt like a bit of a whirlwind ever since you met him, but you wanted to be certain it wasn’t just fun because it was new.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, his eyes tracing your features, his hand resting over your own. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain, something in him conflicted. Finally, he released a soft sigh, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. “You don’t have to answer them, you know. Hell, you don’t have to answer me. Not till you’re ready.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you breathed in his scent – leather, smoke and something uniquely Benny. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I . . . ”

Benny pulled back slightly, his fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Hey, you don’t owe anyone an explanation, not even me. You’ll say yes when you’re ready. And when that time comes, I’ll be here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as it was your turn to kid. “How do you know I’ll say yes?”

Benny’s smile was gentle but still roguishly confident. His hand lingered on your cheek, his fingers tracing down the curve of your jaw as if he were mapping every detail of you. “I just know. When you feel it – when it’s real – you just know.”

He said it so simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if love were the most uncomplicated concept. You didn’t understand that, couldn’t see it that way. You’d seen the love your parents shared and that was beautiful and kind but it was also messy and cruel more often than not. And you understood that your parents were not the only representation of what love and marriage was supposed to be, but it was a constant presence in your life. They didn’t have perfect love, not like what you’d see in the movies or read in books. And you wondered if maybe you were giving too high of expectations for what love was supposed to be, but what you felt when you were around Benny . . . well, it felt exactly like the books described.

The way he looked at you, as if you were the most important thing in the world, made you feel so seen. The way he listened to you as if you were the most entertaining show, made you feel so heard. And the truth was undeniable: you were falling for Benny faster than you thought possible. It was terrifying. Benny was all fire and freedom, a rebel who didn’t play by the rules, who followed his own path with reckless abandon. And you admired that about him, but the thought of stepping into his world permanently felt like stepping off a ledge into the unknown.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he asked, pulling you back into the present.

You pulled back slightly, biting your lip in contemplation before speaking your mind, “Don’t you wonder if there are other girls out there that you haven’t even met yet? Girls who are more suited for you?”

He shook his head, his voice light as he said, “Nah, I know you’re the only one for me, kid.”

“But marriage is serious. It’s forever.”

His hand slid down to your hip, turning you to face him fully, his expression solemn. “I never . . . I never thought marriage was real. The way I saw my mom and old man together . . . what they had wasn’t love. And I realized that at an early age. I didn’t think it was something that was real, just a bunch of fairytale bullshit you tell little kids. The girls I’ve been with, girls that may have been more suited for me, have never made me feel what I feel with you, Bunny. This is serious to me too because it proves everything I’ve never believed in.”

Emotion caught in the back of your throat as you pictured the man standing before you as just a boy living in a toxic household, an unloving home. It made you want to hold him tight, to shield him from the rest of the world. The man who held you so gently, who took you for night rides just to cheer you up. The man who came to your bake sale when nobody else did. The man who promised to drive slow so as not to scare you. The man who said he’d follow you all the way to California so that you didn’t have to go by yourself. The man who taught you about his hobbies with eagerness, and listened to yours with attentiveness.

He deserved to be loved in the same way he loved. But the tragic thing was that he didn’t see that, couldn’t comprehend someone loving him like that. He was damaged by his childhood, and you realized that he didn’t think he was worthy of repair. But you’d show him that he was, that he was worthy of everything he never had.

Slowly, you lifted your hands to gently cup his face, and his breath hitched in his throat. There was a shift in his expression – his usual teasing and bravado now replaced with some raw and unguarded as though he was offering you a glimpse into a deeper part of him, one rarely ever shown to anyone.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “You’re not just some girl to me, Bunny. You know that, right?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t playing around now, not hiding behind his usual flirty quips. His sincerity was almost overwhelming. You swallowed thickly. “But what if I mess this up? What if I’m the one who can’t do this?”

Benny’s brows furrowed and he lifted a hand to brush across your cheek, his touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

“You’re making it sound so easy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you didn’t quite believe him.

Benny could feel your tremble, the shaky laugh betraying your nerves you were trying so hard to hide. He could sense your heart racing, and he wanted so desperately to be the one to soothe it, to take away the hesitation in your eyes. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, the soft curve of it making his heart ache in his chest. He loved how your lips quivered just slightly under his touch. He loved making you blush, loved teasing you until you looked at him like you were annoyed or completely at his mercy. But this . . . this was different. His touch lingered on your lip, slow and almost reverent as he savored the way you responded to him. It wasn’t about teasing anymore – it was about showing you what you meant to him.

“It is,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher than he intended “It’s easy because it’s you.”

The air between you felt electric as his hand slid down the curve of your neck, his fingers lingering there, feeling the steady thrum of your heartbeat that seemed to match his own wild one. He ducked his head slightly as he whispered, “You’re scared. But you don’t need to be.”

He meant it, more than he meant anything in his life. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, searching for any sign of doubt, any sign that you didn’t feel the same way he did. Your eyes – wide and uncertain – met his, and Benny felt the weight of his words over them both.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, your soft voice almost disappearing in the night.

And how could he explain it, especially since he’s never been good at explaining his feelings? How could he put into words what was so abundantly clear to him? That you made everything – even the most outrageous things – seem possible. That with you, he didn’t feel like just some fuck-up waiting for the next diaster. With you he felt grounded, like he belonged somewhere. Like you saw him for more than just the wild, reckless kid everyone else saw.

“Because you make me sure,” he responded with a gentle, encouraging smile as his hands moved to tilt your chin upwards to him. “You make my life feel like it’s supposed to.”

His gaze moved down to your mouth once more as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, and he simply couldn’t resist anymore. He closed the gap, brushing his lips so softly against your own. The kiss was gentle, tender, but as you responded to his touch, the need that had been simmering inside him for so long flared to life. His hands dropped down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, smiling into the kiss when he heard your slight gasp.

His heart pounded in his chest as the world seemed to fade away briefly until it was just you and him, just this. He never wanted to stop, never wanted to let you go.

But you did eventually pull away, the need to breathe becoming all consuming. Breathlessly, he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining closed as he focused on slowing his pulse. His hands remained on your waist, holding you like you might slip away if he let go.

“You see?” he whispered as his lips brushing against your forehead softly. “It’s easy being with you.”

You giggled and his heart soared at the melody. It took everything in him not to pull you back into another kiss, not to hold onto you like you were the only thing that kept him grounded.

His lips still tingled from the kiss, and he could taste the faint sweetness of your breath, the softness of your lips. It wasn’t enough. It never felt like enough for Benny. He wanted more of you. He’d never wanted anything like he wanted you, never craved anyone like he craved you. It was almost unbearable, like every second where he wasn’t touching you was a second wasted.

And yet, he knew you were scared. He could see it in the way you looked down at your shoes, could hear it in the timidity of your voice. It only made him want to protect you more, to make you see that being with him would never be something you had to fear. But he didn’t know how to say that without sounding like he was pushing, without making you feel like you were being rushed into a decision that was as much about you as it was him.

But damn if he didn’t want to make you his.

He opened his eyes and pulled back enough to look at you face again, to really take you in. And my god, the way you were looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes made his chest tighten. And you didn’t even realize how much power you had over him. One look, one smile, and he was a goner.

Before either of you could speak, thunder cracked off in the distance, bringing you both back to the present, back to the rest of the world. You glanced up at the dark clouds that blew in to cover the stars, wondering how long you had stood on this bridge with Benny.

“Guess we should get back,” you said sheepishly.

“Guess so,” Benny replied with a lazy grin as though the storm could come crashing down and he’d still be perfectly content standing here with you.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?” you asked as you walked to his bike, glancing up at the thick, dark clouds blowing in from the west.

“Nah,” he said as he swung a leg over the bike with that signature confidence that made your heart race. “We’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.

******

By the time Benny pulled up to your house, rain was pouring from the sky like a waterfall, fat and heavy droplets splattering onto the sidewalk. Despite wearing Benny’s Vandals jacket, the rain had completely soaked you. Your hair, which had been meticulously pinned up just hours ago, was plastered to your face, and your dress clung to your body like a second skin.

You didn’t wait for him to shut off the bike before you hopped off and tugged on his sleeve.

“C’mon!” You laughed, tugging on Benny’s sleeve as you ran for the safety of your porch overhang. Your heels splashed through the water pooling on the blacktop, and he followed quickly behind, his warm hands finding your waist to steady you from falling as you both stumbled beneath the overhang.

Breathless and grinning like an idiot, you turned to face him, and you were momentarily stunned by the sight. Rainwater rolled down from his usually swept up hair, sliding down the curve of his cheekbones and falling off his jawline. He only wore a whote t shirt, the wet fabric turning almost transparent as it clung to every ridge, every toned muscle and you blinked before your gaze shot back up to his face. Even as wet as a drowned rat, he still managed to look so effortlessly sexy.

He was grinning at you with that boyish expression, and heat filled your face at the realization that you were just as soaked as he was but definitely not as pretty a sight. You probably looked like a mess — makeup smeared, hair ruined — but he was staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Not gonna rain, huh?” you teased, quirking an eyebrow at the heavy rainfall just off your porch.

“Just a light sprinkle,” he returned easily, but you noticed he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Do you wanna come in?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “To dry off?”

He sobered instantly, his gaze raking over your form before moving to your front door. He’d never been inside your house, never seen where you call home, where you lay down at night and replay your memories of him. There was never really an option for him to be inside your house. He’d never met your parents — despite asking multiple times to meet them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put neither your parents nor Benny though that. Deep down, you knew your father would never approve of Benny, never give him his blessing. It was a disaster waiting to happen when he found out that you were dating a biker. You begged your mother to keep it a secret to which she obliged, but you knew it wouldn’t be long till he found out.

Benny took a full step back from you, hesitation obvious in his face, his voice low and almost regretful he said. “I—I better not, Bun.”

Normally, you wouldn’t ask again after being denied, wouldn’t be so bold. But you weren’t the same girl you were a few weeks ago before you met Benny. Emboldened by the perfect opportunity to have him inside your home, to share a piece of yourself with him, you stepped forward.

You took a step forward, your voice soft but sure. “My parents aren’t home. C’mon, just to dry off and wait till the rain lets up a little. You can’t drive in that anyway. It’s not safe and I won’t let you.”

Benny released a breath that sounded a lot like a laugh as he shook his head, clearly conflicted by your invitation. And for a moment, you thought he might shake his head and turn away. You thought he might face the rainstorm and leave you behind.

But instead, he nodded and your heart soared at the small gesture. Filled with hopeful energy, you shot him a smile, moving to open the front door and invite him inside your home, inside your world.

-Tag List-

@beebeechaos @imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @mrsalwayswrite @thedreamingfish99

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

The Northern Winds (pt. 3)

PART 1 & PART 2

Summary: Lady Y/N is pregnant again after suffering a miscarriage. Winter is coming and with it spring and the news of Prince Jacaerys coming to Winterfell.

Warnings: pregnancy and its symptoms, childbirth, mention of postnatal depression, mention of rape, mature NSFW content (18+), SPOILERS FOR HOUSE OF THE DRAGON/FIRE AND BLOOD (both what has happened and what will happen in the end!!!)

A/N: Let me just say that I cried writing the ending of this story

Taglist: @nixtape-foryou @accountforreading123 @melsunshine @lovemesomevesey @goldenxshine @beebeechaos @mckennah123

@blonde-scandinav1an @letaliabane @answer-the-sirens @lilyed777 @travelingmypassion

***

Before long the Lady of Winterfell was high into her pregnancy and with it arrived a white raven from the archmaesters of the Citadel announcing the winter was upon them. If anyone knew of winter, it was the Northerners. A third of the crops of every harvest had been stored for winter ever since the first white raven arrived sending word of the summer’s end. The winter town beneath the walls of Winterfell filled eagerly once more, its houses, markets, and taverns bustling with life. Fire burned ceaselessly in every hearth making the view from the towers of Winterfell seem like the night sky with stars not of silver but of gold.

The Lady of Winterfell stood atop of one of Winterfell’s watchtowers, observing the smallfolk rushing among the houses and the passageways, taking care of the final errands before the day’s light would be consumed by darkness. Even as the night set in, Lady Y/N could still see them hurrying about because of their torches and lanterns to light the way.

Lady Y/N pulled her heavy cloak closer, supporting her great belly beneath it. If everything was as it was supposed to be, childbirth was not far away. The thought of it filled Y/N with equal measures of joy as well as worry.

The first few moons with child were not easy. Lady Y/N was abed for most of it, sick with nausea and barely keeping anything down. She did not care for food other than salt beef and rusk bread. Even oranges that were once her favourite she could no longer stand. And simply the smell of ale would make Lady Y/N sick immediately. Although it was Cregan’s preferred drink, he ordered it not be served at feasts any longer if the Lady Stark was strong enough to attend. As for him, he would drink wine instead or hippocras when the winter truly set in and the cold was strong enough to bite off your fingers.

Maester Bennard too was with Lady Stark most every day, brewing remedies for her nausea but with very little effect. Yet as the babe grew stronger, the sickness disappeared almost overnight. Lady Y/N regained her strength and her love for oranges and resumed her duties as the Lady of Winterfell with much eagerness although always beneath the watchful eye of Lord Stark. His hard, grey eyes would not leave his wife during council meetings, lingering either on her or her slowly growing belly. As someone who always wielded power, even as a child for Cregan was his father’s heir, Lord Stark came to know complete powerlessness for the first time in his life when his wife fell with child. Whilst he could command his men and wield his great longsword, Cregan could do little when it came to his yet unborn child. Whilst Lady Y/N was abed with sickness, Lord Stark would often leave the leading of the council meetings to his maester and his other trusted advisors. If anything were to go wrong again and Cregan would not be there for his wife, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Lady Y/N too was worried, especially during the first half of her being with child. She could not sleep for fear of waking coated in blood. She had nightmares and was sometimes so tired, not only from sickness but from fear, that she could only leave the bed to use the privy. Yet this time, Cregan was there by her side, watching over her and making sure that his wife had everything she could want and need. When Lady Ellyn was away to get some rest as she tended to Lady Stark at all times, the Lord of Winterfell would stay by his wife’s side, keeping a watchful eye even when Lady Y/N slept. But as the pregnancy neared the end, both the Lord and the Lady of Winterfell quickly forgot about the worries of the past and had no choice but focus on the present. 

“If you are trying to freeze to death, there are easier ways than standing atop of a tower,” said the Lord of Winterfell as he joined his wife. Lady Y/N turned around, meeting her husband’s warm smile with her one of her own.

“The cold air does me good,” said Lady Y/N as Cregan wrapped his arms around her, his nose buried in the fragrant skin of her neck.

“Of course,” murmured Cregan, “You are carrying a northern child.” He kissed the part of Y/N’s neck not shielded by the red fox fur of her blue cloak. Goosebumps rose of Lady Y/N’s arms as she placed her hands on his that were supporting her belly. The babe kicked and although the sensation was uncomfortable for Y/N, it always filled her heart with warmth at the proof of new life.

Lord Stark could not help but smile when he felt his child move beneath his touch. But then his excitement faded some. “Does it hurt you when he does that?” asked Cregan his wife. Lady Y/N was surprised by his question, yet she should not have been for Cregan’s curiosity never ceased and his questions never remained only in his thoughts.

“It is uncomfortable but not painful,” said Lady Y/N before she could actually comprehend what Cregan said.

“He?” asked Lady Y/N, a grin growing on her lips. She turned around to look at Cregan. If it were not for the darkness of the coming night, Y/N would be able to see the heat creep into her husband’s cheeks.

“Or she,” said Cregan quickly, his eyes shifting between his wife and their unborn child. “Either one will do,” said the Lord of Winterfell as he knelt before his wife and kissed her great belly, leaning his forehead gently against it. Lady Y/N ran her gloved fingers through Lord Stark’s hair, secretly wishing their child, be it a boy or a girl, to have their father’s eyes.

Lady Stark placed her hand on Cregan’s cheek when he got up, her thumb smoothing across his wind-lashed skin.

“I too think it is a boy,” confessed Lady Y/N in a gentle voice. Cregan’s grey eyes had never before seemed so big and childlike to her as in that moment when his lips were parted but his mouth at a loss for words.

Lady Y/N stepped on the tips of her toes before Cregan cupped her cheeks and guided her closer. He kissed her ardently again and again, unable to detach himself from her love.

***

A snowstorm raged outside that morrow when the Lord and Lady of Winterfell broke their fast on fried eggs and boiled ham before they would attend the council meeting. Yet as Lady Y/N climbed the stairs of Rodrick’s Tower, a terrible pain spread from her back to her abdomen. A loud gasp escaped her lungs as Lord Stark turned around hastily, Lady Y/N’s hand grabbing onto his arm.

“What is it?” hurried Lord Stark.

Y/N gasped again at another wave of pain, followed by a strange sensation and a small gush of fluid trickling down her leg. A striking pain shot through her abdomen alone this time. Lady Y/N cried out in pain and would have fallen to her knees if not for Cregan holding her.

“The babe … It’s coming,” breathed Lady Y/N, her nails digging into her husband’s forearm.

Cregan did not hesitate and wrapped his arms around his wife, picking her up with easily yet with great care. “Hold onto me,” said Lord Stark and carried Lady Y/N to the birthing chambers. He shouted to the servants to get the maester and the midwife as his wife cried out in pain. Her breathing grew even faster when Cregan laid her into their bed. Y/N caught his hand, begging him with her eyes not to leave her side. Tears gathered in her vision as all of her fears and worries returned to her. She was not much afraid of the pain but for the babe. She would not be able to bear losing it.

“You will be alright, my love,” said Cregan and kissed Y/N’s brow. He brushed away the hair that stuck to her forehead before loosening the strings on her dress. A small sob escaped Lady Y/N’s lips as she paced her breathing whilst they waited for the maester and the midwife.

“I’m not going anywhere,” assured Cregan, holding his wife’s palm with one hand and caressing her cheek with the other. “I promise, my love.”

Lady Y/N nodded just as Maester Bennard, midwife Othella and her ladies-in-waiting arrived.

The maester asked Lord Stark to leave as was customary but Cregan would not be moved from his wife’s side. It was unheard of and yet not a soul dared to say a word of protest.

Lady Y/N remembered her mother’s letters of her own time with child and how Lord Jonos was never remotely interested in the babe until it was born. Lady Whytefort was supposed to visit before Lady Y/N went into labour but the snowstorm must have kept her in a lesser lord’s castle somewhere. Y/N had hoped her mother would be there when the babe would arrive yet she was grateful Cregan was there at least.

Lady Othella, the midwife who assisted the Lady of Winterfell in childbed, was no highborn lady at all but the smallfolk and the noble alike addressed her as lady for the many children she helped deliver and save when the labour was difficult. Lady Othella was a short woman of petite stature yet her hands possessed the strength that could wield a sword. She wore her hair in a coif of deep blue but her tawny locks more oft than not slipped onto her pale, heart-shaped face.

“Breathe, my lady,” instructed Lady Othella as the servants made the bed more comfortable for Lady Y/N. They placed pillows behind her head and beneath her hips, relieving some of the soreness in her back.

Lady Y/N nodded and paced her breathing. Her pains were still very far apart yet no less painful.

The labour lasted through the day and well into the night although there was no telling the time as the snowstorm raged on outside the windows of Winterfell. Near the hour of the ghosts, Lady Stark’s labour pains grew stronger and more frequent, now only moments apart.

Lady Othella announced it was time under the careful supervision of Maester Bennard.

Y/N let go of Cregan’s hand as she was sure she was going to crush all the bones in his hand. She gripped onto the linens instead but the Lord of Winterfell made her take his hand once again.

Lady Y/N pushed and pushed and prayed that the baby would come and come healthy.

“You are almost there, my lady,” encouraged Lady Othella, giving Lady Stark the last bit of strength she needed to push her baby into the world.

A sense of relief came over Y/N as the pressure was gone and the babe’s crying filled the room. Lady Y/N’s loud and fast breathing was scattered with the crying of happiness as Maester Bennard cut the navel string and the babe got wrapped up in clean linens.

“My congratulations, my lord, my lady,” said Lady Othella, a warm smile spreading across her lips. “You have a son.”

Lady Y/N fell the breath get knocked out of her for a moment, her big, pensive eyes wide with wonder as she stared at her son in the midwife’s hands. Lady Othella gave her the babe as Lady Y/N reached out with her hands and Lord Stark finally let go of his wife’s hand. Y/N pressed the babe to her chest instinctively, her mouth full of sobs as the babe’s crying eased. She looked at her husband whose grey eyes flickered between the child no larger than his two hands put together and his beautiful wife, his beautiful wife who just gave him a son.

Cregan’s vision became blurred. He could not remember the last time he cried for it was when he was still a child himself. Yet as Lord Stark saw his wife holding their son, his heart filled with joy indescribable to anyone and at the same time with fear so great he thought it would break him.

Lord Stark got up and kissed Y/N’s forehead, his hand barely touching the babe for fear of hurting him. The baby nuzzled into his mother’s chest, recognizing the warmth and the comfort of her body.

“We have a son,” Lady Y/N cried from happiness as she looked up at her husband.

“We do,” said the Lord of Winterfell in a quiet voice. “Rickon?” asked Cregan as he looked at his wife, his eyes were big and pure as a child’s.

“Rickon,” agreed Y/N and smiled at her babe.

***

After the long and tiresome labour, Lady Stark had time enough to rest and recover but would not let a wetnurse feed her son, not when she could do it herself. Maester Bennard advised against it and encouraged Lady Y/N to focus on recovering and to leave the babe to the wetnurse. Lady Othella did not share his opinion entirely, which was the cause of many quarrels between the maester and the midwife already during Lady Stark’s pregnancy.

Maester Bennard looked to Lord Stark for support, speaking of how the late Lady Gilliane Stark, Cregan’s mother, always entrusted her children into the care of a wetnurse as did the wife of Cregan’s uncle, who had three healthy sons.

Lord Stark stood by the small window of the birthing chamber, seeing how the terrible snowstorm was beginning to cease. The wind whistled and howled violently all the while as the Lady of Winterfell was in childbed.

Lord Stark turned to Maester Bennard when he felt his scholarly gaze on his back.

“You will do as my wife says, Maester Bennard,” said Lord Stark, his arms crossed pensively over his broad chest. His voice was as even and cold as steel.

“You are a maester of the Citadel and are highly valued in my household, Bennard – not only as a learned man but as a friend,” continued Lord Stark. “You are a maester of Oldtown yet you are neither a woman nor a mother and that is no fault of yours, so you will do as Lady Stark commands even if she chooses not to heed your advice.”

Maester Bennard lowered his gaze and bowed, “As my lord commands.”

The newborn babe suckled happily on his mother’s breast, who in equal measure could not be happier herself. Lady Y/N was not opposed to a wetnurse yet she wanted to care for her babe as much as she could on her own, particularly now when the babe had hardly been born.

Once Lady Othella and Maester Bennard retired, assuring Lady Stark was in as good health as she could be, Cregan allowed himself so sit beside his wife and his newborn son. Lady Y/N held the baby with one hand but reached for her husband’s palm with the other. She brought it to her lips and kissed it, her eyes closed as she did so.

“Thank you,” spoke Y/N gently, leaning her head tiredly against the pillow as she watched her husband.

“Whatever for?” asked Cregan, his sharp brows in their usual frown. He had done absolutely nothing whilst his wife did everything.

“Everything,” said Y/N nevertheless, gently holding onto Cregan’s hand. “Did I break all of your bones?” she smiled, brushing her thumb across the top of his palm.

“I think I still have a few of them left,” grinned Cregan as he looked down at his wife’s small hand in his. His heart weighed heavy in his chest but he did not know why. Perhaps he was so happy that some of his happiness had to turn into sadness or he would burst with joy.

“What is it?” frowned Y/N when she saw the melancholy in Cregan’s features.

I’m afraid, Cregan wanted to say. I’m afraid to lose you and I’m afraid to lose our son. Strange how new life so quickly reminds one of death.

“Cregan?” asked Y/N softly when he did not speak. Cregan only sat closer and kissed his lady wife, kissed her again and again, first on her lips then her nose and her cheeks and finally her brow. Cregan leaned his forehead against Y/N’s, his eyes shut tight.

“I love you,” promised Lord Stark and sealed it with another kiss.

“I love you,” said Y/N and caressed her husband’s cheek. The baby cooed when it was done feeding, now happily nuzzling against his mother’s warm chest.

“Do you wish to hold him?” asked Y/N with a smile. Lord Stark froze in place, his eyes round and his lips parted.

“I don’t know,” said Cregan and watched how the happiness dimmed in Lady Y/N’s bright eyes. “My hands … What if they are too rough for him?” said Cregan warily. “What if I hurt him?”

Lady Y/N’s smiled once again. “You won’t, I promise,” said Y/N as she sat up with Rickon resting securely in her hands. Cregan mimicked the shape of his wife’s arms and waited patiently for her to place his tiny, delicate son into his hands. The babe missed the comfort of his mother’s body and let out a cry and then another, each startling Cregan more than the other. But as soon as the babe found the warmth of his father’s chest he stopped his crying and sighed contently. Cregan felt his body tremble as he held his son, seeing how he blinked his small, storm-grey eyes.

When Lord Stark looked up once again, he saw how his wife had fallen asleep, her hand outstretched towards him. Cregan sat close beside her and listened to her soft breathing. As he watched his son, the Lord of Winterfell vowed to himself to destroy anyone who would ever think of harming them.

Come morning, Lady Stark awoke with her husband was sleeping beside her, his arm entwined with hers. She sat up quickly thinking of her son only to see him sound asleep in his bassinet. Lady Y/N laid back down, coming to realize how sore her body was. Every muscle in her body felt uncomfortable. She turned on her back, unable to supress a groan that woke Lord Stark from his light sleep.

“Will you please ask for Maester Bennard?” asked Y/N as she tried to sit up. Her body was something she did not recognize. A mess of pain and discomfort and unpredictability.

Cregan jumped to his feet and called the servants, who fetched Maester Bennard. In the meantime, Lord Stark returned to his wife’s side.

“Are you in pain, my love?” asked Cregan as he knelt beside the bed.

“Everything hurts,” confessed Lady Y/N but it was only normal to feel this way. She had been in labour for near a full day before the babe was delivered. Y/N needed help to use the privy and when she returned Maester Bennard was there with his assistants. He gave her instructions of recovery and some remedies for the pain.

“I would have a bath,” asked Lady Y/N, looking at her maester for advice.

“I believe it would do you good, my lady,” agreed Maester Bennard as he gathered his potions in his ornate, wooden box. “I would also advise warm cloth for your belly and your chest.”

The servants prepared a nice, warm bath whilst Lady Ellyn and Lady Jocelyn helped Y/N out of her clothes. Lifting her legs only slightly proved a greater challenge than Lady Stark could have foreseen. The warm water helped remedy the soreness of her body, however. Y/N allowed Lady Ellyn to help her wash as she could barely find the strength to move her aching limbs.

“You did so well, my lady,” said Lady Ellyn gently as she sat beside the bath, her thumb drawing circles into her friend’s hand. “You have the most beautiful son, you ought to be proud.”

Lady Y/N managed a smile but could not help but feel an unusual melancholy creep in. Lady Whytefort wrote to her of her own mother’s sadness after she gave birth to her. Lady Cerwyn – then Ryswell of the Rills before she widowed and remarried – was said to have locked herself in her chambers and refused to care for her daughter for near a moon’s turn. But afterwards when Lady Y/N’s grandmother recovered everything was as if nothing had happened. Even Y/N herself had not known of this prior to her lady mother’s letter although she was close to her maternal grandmother and stayed at the Rills many a summer’s moon.

Lady Y/N shared this story with Lady Ellyn.

“I am sure you have nothing to fear, my lady,” Lady Ellyn tried to reassure her friend although she had heard of similar experiences happening to other women. “Even if such a thing should occur, you have your ladies and a host of wetnurses who would die to serve House Stark. You would recover and all would be well, I am sure of it,” tried Lady Ellyn. What her friend spoke was true Y/N knew and yet she could not help but feel like a failure at just the thought of not wanting to care for her son. However, as sore and tired as Lady Y/N felt, she could and would not judge any woman who would feel the way her grandmother did upon birthing her daughter. Y/N could not even imagine how difficult it must have been for her own mother especially with a man like Lord Jonos. Lady Y/N loved her father dearly in spite of it all, but she could not stand the way he treated her mother. Especially not now when Y/N saw herself there were different ways of leading married life, good and gentle ways.

Lord Stark returned to Lady Y/N’s chambers. He had washed and shaved and had a change of garments. He seemed tired, a pensive expression hiding in his features.

“I would have a moment with my wife,” said Lord Stark to Lady Ellyn. She got up and curtsied. “If you are able,” said Lord Stark, now turning to his wife.

“I will get dressed,” nodded Lady Y/N.

Lady Stark was helped into a comfortable gown of cerulean blue and white Myrish lace with pearl embroidery whilst she had the servants braid her hair. The warm bath helped Lady Y/N with her pains, allowing her to walk with the support of her lady-in-waiting.

Whilst the Lady of Winterfell had a change of garments, the servants had brought food and drink aplenty for Lord and Lady Stark to break their fast on. They prepared a hearty broth rich with venison and grains for Lady Y/N to recover her strength, offering congratulations left and right as she sat down. Lady Stark reserved a smile for each of them no matter how low- or highborn.

“Could you find any rest, my love?” asked Lady Y/N once the servants left the Lord and Lady of Winterfell to break their fast in peace. Y/N took Cregan’s hand, the warmth of his touch instantly reassuring her. Cregan had dark circles beneath his eyes and his skin appeared ashen. He had not left his wife’s side not for a moment since she went into labour and stayed awake for as long as he could even after Lady Y/N had already fallen asleep.

Lord Stark rose his pensive, grey eyes to Y/N. “How can you ask me that when you have just given birth to our son?” said Cregan gently as he squeezed his wife’s hand in his.

“I could not have done it if you had not been there by my side,” said Lady Y/N genuinely. She paused.

“Are you happy?” asked Y/N anxiously. Cregan’s brows furrowed into an incredulous frown.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Only … You seem distant,” said Lady Y/N, watching her husband’s eyes for any trace of doubt.

“Forgive me,” said Cregan heavily yet his voice quietened some as he looked towards the window.

“Tell me,” asked Lady Y/N, not ungently, and squeezed her husband’s hand reassuringly.

“I …” began Cregan. “I had a brother,” said Cregan, his grey eyes returning to his wife. Y/N stared at him, her mouth parted. “He died aged only two when I was ten-and-one.”

“You cannot remember him from your time here at Winterfell. You could not even if you stayed for a full moon and not a day. My mother did not like him leaving his chambers. He was sickly … He had been since he was born,” said Cregan. “I … I barely knew him …”

“I am so sorry,” said Y/N, not knowing what else to say. She reached out to him, enfolding his calloused palm between her hands. They had been wed for more than a year and yet Y/N had never heard Cregan nor anyone else for that matter mention Lord Stark having had a brother.

“What happened?” asked Y/N gently.

“Fever took him,” said Cregan, his gaze focused on his wife’s hands clasped around his own. “First it took my mother, then Benjen not even three nights after,” told Cregan, his voice deep and sombre. “He was named after my grandsire.”

“I am so sorry, my love,” spoke Y/N gently.

Lord Stark got up from the table and stood by the window, his gaze reaching out beyond the walls of his strong castle.

“At least my mother did not have to see him die,” said Cregan to himself more than to his wife. “At least the Gods spared her as much.”

Y/N stared at her husband’s back, coming to realize where Cregan’s melancholy and pensiveness came from. The birth of their son agitated old wounds and disturbed the present. Cregan did not so much feel the loss of his brother when he held his newborn son; rather, he came to understand his mother’s worry and fear at the prospect of having to bury her child.

Lady Y/N gathered what strength she could and got up from the table on her own. Lord Stark turned around but Y/N was already by his side. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, Cregan’s hands instinctively wrapping around Y/N’s waist as he buried his nose in the warmth of her neck. Cregan let out a breath he did not know he was holding.

*** 2 YEARS LATER ***

As the cold and heavy winter went by leaving nothing but darkness and snow, a hope of spring returned when a white raven flew in from Oldtown bearing news of the winter’s end. Although the snow was never quite gone north of The Gift, the blizzards and snowstorms grew scarcer and were replaced by days of warm sunshine at Winterfell.

Despite the winter and Lord Stark’s frequent visits to the Wall before the snow became too tall to travel, there was always some form of joy and merriment in the castle walls of Winterfell. As little Rickon Stark, the firstborn son of Lord Cregan and Lady Y/N Stark, grew older and bolder by the day, he kept his noble parents busy even when there were no lordly duties to attend to.

“Rickon tells me you are going to show him how to ride to-day,” spoke Cregan softly, his voice deep and husky in the hour of the nightingale. His fingers were tangled in his wife’s hair, their foreheads nearly touching as they savoured the last moments of peace before the castle would be bustling with errands and duties to attend to once again.

Y/N rose her big, sleepy eyes to her husband’s. “He will only sit ahorse,” said Lady Y/N quietly, tracing her fingers across the scars on Cregan’s chest. “Mayhaps I will let Ser Tybald lead him around the courtyard if Rickon will wish to,” considered Y/N aloud.

“Of course he will, he is your son,” laughed Cregan, secretly delighting in his wife’s soft touch.

“Is he not your son too?” said Y/N aghast as she grinned, leaning on her elbow. “I suppose you preferred learning the names and banners of Houses to spending time with swords and horses,” she teased.

Cregan smiled and pulled Y/N into a kiss, her arms resting on his strong chest. She moved even closer, deepening the kiss as she harboured a secret to tell her husband. But as his arms wrapped around Y/N’s hips eagerly, she forgot all about the news and straddled Cregan’s waist instead. He pulled off her nightgown, his hands reaching immediately for her soft breasts. Cregan sat up and kissed them as Y/N’s hands tangled in his dark hair. She moaned when he found her sweet spot, knowing her body better than sometimes she did.

“Mommy! Mommy!” called a small voice running around the hallways of Winterfell. Y/N gasped as her gaze darted towards the door.

“Gods,” muttered Y/N hastily and jumped off the bed where she picked up her nightgown and slipped it on just in time. Cregan laughed as he leaned against the bedframe, watching a deep blush flush his wife’s cheeks as Rickon burst into the room, wrapping his arms around her mother’s knees.

“Good morrow, little one,” said Y/N, her eyes locking with Cregan’s when she picked up her son and held him to her. “Should you not be abed?” Lady Stark asked of her son but made eyes at her all too amused husband.

“I wanted to see you,” said Rickon cheerfully although there was sleep in his eyes.

“Alright, little warrior,” said Cregan as he got up from the bed. “Your mother is right. Back to bed.” Cregan took his son from Y/N’s arms, the playful, teasing look in Cregan’s eyes making Y/N’s knees weak. A shivery breath escaped Y/N’s lips as she watched her husband’s bare back when he walked across their chambers.

Rickon’s wetnurse was already at the door of their rooms yet dared not come in.

“I’m so sorry, m’lord,” said the wetnurse as she took Rickon from Lord Stark’s arms.

“That’s alright,” said Lord Stark gently, running his hand through his son’s dark hair one last time before he returned to his private chambers.

Cregan slipped his arms beneath Y/N’s bum and lifted her up eagerly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to their bed. He sat down, his large hands squeezing his wife’s soft thighs. Cregan went for his breeches but Y/N stopped him.

“Let me do it,” she spoke softly, her voice laced with desire. She dropped to her knees and undid Cregan’s nightbreeches, pulling them off with haste. Cregan watched as his wife took him in her mouth, her tongue sliding skilfully along his length. Cregan threw his head back in pleasure, his fists balling around the linens of their bed to keep himself from climaxing immediately. As Cregan groaned in pleasure his eyes met Y/N’s. She stopped, teasing her husband.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” muttered Cregan and quickly pulled Y/N into his lap.

“Show me,” she breathed against his lips, her heart beating harshly against her chest.

Cregan took Y/N’s waist and turned her around, pulling off her loose nightgown yet again. His fingers found her breasts once more as he kissed her neck one last time before he took Y/N’s hips and entered her. Y/N moaned loudly as she clawed at the furs of their bed. Cregan’s thrusts were hard and even before he slowly escalated his pace. Y/N could not help but whimper in pleasure as her husband’s fingers tangled in her long hair, pulling on them gently. Cregan leaned down and kissed her from behind, his hips moving faster and then slower as he felt himself nearing his pleasure. He reached around Y/N’s waist with his hand, his fingers nestling between her thighs. Y/N winced in pleasure, leaned into his touch and only moments away from complete pleasure. Y/N whimpered halfway through a moan, climaxing sooner than she anticipated. She leaned her head against the bed as her eyes closed, Cregan’s fingers digging harshly into the soft curves of her hips. Cregan’s seed dripped down the inside of Y/N’s thigh before they both fell flat on the bed, their bodies tangled and exhausted from divine pleasure.

***

After breaking their fast in Benjen’s Hall, Lady Stark took her son Rickon to the stables as she promised. Ser Tybald provided a well-natured, chestnut pony with mane the colour of butter for Lord Stark’s firstborn son.

“Let him smell you,” said Lady Stark and lifted her son into her arms. “Like this,” she showed by placing her palm gently to the pony’s muzzle. Rickon reached out hesitantly but when the pony leaned her muzzle against his hand, he smiled with eyes as happy as ever.

“You have to name him now,” encouraged Lady Stark, “But you have to name him carefully for he will carry that name for many years.”

Rickon looked at her with big, round eyes, his mind whooshing with a thousand ideas. He looked at his horse again with his lips parted.

“Squire,” said Rickon determinedly.

Lady Y/N watched as her son reached for the pony’s muzzle once again, mesmerized by Rickon’s likeness to his father.

Y/N kissed her son’s temple and put him down, allowing the master-of-horse to show him how to properly saddle and ready a horse. She watched as he was sat into one of the saddles, first off horse and later on Squire. He beamed with joy when Ser Tybald asked him if he wanted to have a walk around the courtyard.

“Mother, may I?” called Rickon from atop of his butter-maned pony.

“You may,” allowed Lady Stark, her lips spreading into a smile at the sight of her boy content. “Only be careful and hold on tight.”

“I will,” promised Rickon, his little hands wrapping tightly around the horn of the saddle.

Lady Y/N pulled her cloak closer to her as a cold, spring breeze swept through the walls of Winterfell.

“What did he name the horse?” asked a voice behind Lady Stark. She turned around, her eyes finding those of her husband.

“Squire,” smiled Lady Y/N.

“Of course,” said Lord Stark, unable to disguise a grin off his lips.

Y/N wrapped her hand around Cregan’s elbow, pressing closer to him. “What did you name your first horse?” she wondered.

Cregan smiled, “Jester.”

Lady Y/N could not help but snort a laughter, finding the name so very fitting of Cregan as she imagined him as a young boy. He laughed with her, almost asking the same of Y/N but quickly remembered.

“Blackspur was my first,” said Lady Y/N all on her own, the smile on her lips turning into a melancholy one. Ser Tybald had to put her down soon after the beginning of the new year for she had grown sick. It was the kindest thing to do, knew Y/N, yet that acknowledgement made it hurt no less. Blackspur had a long and comfortable life, longer than many horses. Those were the only thoughts that could make Lady Stark’s grief less painful.

“I know,” spoke Cregan and kissed his wife’s temple.

Suddenly echoed an approaching sound of hooves against the cobblestones. Lady Stark stood up straight, detaching herself hesitantly from Cregan’s warm body to welcome unexpected guests. Yet only two riders crossed the Hunter’s Gate into the castle, leading a beautiful filly tied to one of their saddles. She had long muscular legs, her coat of raw umber brown. She shook her head, her mane alike in colour, as the horsemen dismounted and one of them took her into Winterfell’s stables.

“Wait for me,” asked Cregan of his lady wife before he met with the other horseman, who bowed their heads before the Lord of Winterfell. They spoke briefly and even shook hands. Lady Stark’s gaze drifted to her son across the yard when his pony neighed, her heart leaping out of her chest for a moment. Rickon laughed however, savouring every moment before he would have to listen to Maester Bennard’s lessons on Houses great and small.

“Come,” Lady Y/N heard her husband call. She turned her attention to him but saw the riders leave through the Hunger’s Gate. They were gone as quickly as they arrived.

“What is it? Is their horse injured?” asked Y/N once at her husband’s side. Knights and lords, especially of smaller Houses, often brought their mounts to Winterfell if the animal was ill or injured for Winterfell had one of the best stables in the North.

“She is in perfect health,” said Cregan as he led his wife into the stables. The ash brown filly paced restlessly, her elegant head turning towards the strangers coming to see her. She was young, only just old enough to saddle.

“Why did they bring her then?” asked Y/N, admiring the magnificent animal and wondering if per chance they wanted Ser Tybalt to break her in and have her ready for riding.

“She is yours if you want her,” said Lord Stark, his gaze shifting between his wife’s eyes and the filly he chose for her.

“What?” gasped Lady Y/N, looking up at her husband’s expecting eyes. She was at a loss for words.

“I know she cannot replace Blackspur but—”

“Thank you,” Y/N cut Cregan off before he could finish. She took his hand and stepped on the tips of her toes to kiss him. He leaned down for her, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. Y/N pulled away slowly, looking around to make sure they were alone. Ser Tybald was still leading Rickon on Squire and informing him all about caring for horses.

“I have to tell you something, husband,” said Lady Y/N, biting her lip as she could not help but smile. She looked down at her Cregan’s chest and the silver direwolf emblem resting between his collarbones.

“What is it?” asked Cregan, his brows quickly jumping into a gentle frown.

“I am with child again,” whispered Y/N as she looked up into her husband’s eyes. The emotions in the greyness of his irises swirled like a great summer storm.

“Say it again,” breathed Lord Stark incredulous.

“I am with child,” repeated Lady Y/N, her smile as bright as ever as she observed her lord husband’s reaction. Cregan pulled her into his arms eagerly, his hands cupping her cheeks as he kissed her deeply. Y/N’s palms rested against her husband’s chest as she could not help but smile into the kiss.

“Mommy!” called Rickon’s small voice as he came running into the stables. Ser Tybald followed him with Squire.

“Can I ride again in the after-noon?” begged Rickon, his eyes as big as stars. The boy knew the answer would be ‘no’ but with his mother at least he stood a chance.

“Ask your father,” smiled Lady Y/N, her hand creeping into her husband’s palm.

“Father, may I?” asked Rickon carefully, his arms locked behind his back as he swayed left and right ever so slightly, his eyes resting on his father’s boots. He knew the answer this time too.

“Tomorrow,” said Lord Stark. “Come, Maester Bennard must be waiting for you.”

Speaking of which, as soon as the Lord and Lady of Winterfell returned inside the castle they were met with Maester Bennard. He was out of breath, his normally pale cheeks flushed with fever.

“My lord,” Maester Bennard gasped for breath, “My lord, urgent news from Dragonstone.” He handed Lord Stark a scroll of parchment with a broken seal of a red, three-headed dragon.

Cregan placed Rickon into his wetnurse’s care before he unrolled the raven scroll. “It’s Prince Jacaerys,” told Lord Stark aloud as he turned to his wife. “He is coming to Winterfell.”

***

As they lay in bed that night and Cregan’s hand rested gently on the barely visible bump of Y/N’s belly, neither the Lord nor the Lady of Winterfell could fall asleep. The night was bright and the moon shone invasively through the windows of their private chambers.

“What do you think he wants?” whispered Y/N quietly in case Cregan managed to fall asleep. She need not have asked for she knew, she only did not want to accept it.

“I do not know,” spoke Cregan gravely. “But I do now my father swore an oath … I swore an oath.”

News of trouble and strife in House Targaryen had long been flying north to Winterfell. The ravens more oft than not came from outside the walls of the Red Keep, coming from the Riverlands and the Vale and even from the Reach. The matter of succession seemed to be settled when King Viserys the Peaceful declared his daughter as his heir and future queen. Yet upon his death, appeared to have formed two camps that the smallfolk and the great alike called the Greens and the Blacks. The first supported Prince Aegon’s claim to the throne as he was King Viserys’ eldest son and the latter the claim of Princess Rhaenyra. If the North was to get involved in the war within House Targaryen, Winterfell would declare for Princess Rhaenyra as it did when King Viserys was still alive.

Y/N’s heart grew heavy in her chest. She placed her hand atop Cregan’s that was resting on her belly and squeezed it tightly. A shaky breath escaped her lips as she stared at the ceiling, knowing full well she will not find any sleep tonight.

“Hey,” whispered Cregan and leaned on his elbow. He caressed Y/N’s cheeks, making her look at him. “We will not know until he is here,” Cregan tried to reassure her some. He could not tell if it was the moonlight glistening in Y/N’s eyes or whether they were tears he saw, but Y/N nodded nevertheless if only to give her husband some peace.

The following eve came word from New Castle. Prince Jacaerys spent the night in White Harbor with his dragon Vermax and would fly for Winterfell in the morn.

The castle was up in preparation for the welcoming of the royal prince. Lady Stark ordered the kitchens to prepare the finest dishes of roast boar and pheasant in a sauce of almonds. The best casks of ale and wine were to be brought from the cellars of Winterfell and the Great Hall arranged appropriately. Only the highest and noblest of councillors were to attend the feast upon Prince Jacaerys’ arrival alongside Lord Stark and Lady Y/N.

After only just bearing through the winter, neither the Lord nor the Lady of Winterfell were too pleased to prepare a dozen sheep and goats for the prince’s dragon to feast on yet they had little choice in the matter.

Lady Stark chose a gown of ash green and pale white in the colours of Winterfell with a belt of white gold with the emblem of two direwolves’ heads baring their fangs at one another in its centre. She wore a necklace and earrings of emerald stones encrusted with diamonds that Cregan had gifted her upon the birth of their son.

The Lady of Winterfell paced around the Great Hall, making sure everything was perfect for the feast. Although she had put tremendous effort into the evening, both she and Cregan decided to keep the spirit of things much alike they would for any other highborn lord or lady coming to visit. Even though House Stark bent the knee to House Targaryen many years ago, the sense in the North was still that of House Stark’s rule.

Lady Y/N did not truly consider the prince’s dragon until she heard it screeching and roaring above the castle walls. Her heart sank as her eyes grew big coming face to face with her husband.

“Come,” said Cregan, holding out his hand. “He is here.”

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell gathered outside, greeted by the early spring snows. Lady Stark wore a heavy cloak of cloth-of-silver and wool, with fur of the grey wolf. She held her hands locked together before her, her breath coming out in clouds. It was nightfall already as she gazed into the sky. Her mouth went dry at the sight of an enormous, bat-like figure dancing in the sky. The beast screeched, irate with the cold and the snow.

The prince descended into the courtyard of Winterfell’s castle, the force of the dragon’s leathery wings sending snowflakes back into the sky. Prince Jacaerys dismounted and spoke to his beast in High Valeryan before meeting the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

Lord Stark bowed his head and Lady Y/N curtsied gracefully before the crown prince.

“My prince,” said Lord Stark first, his words echoed by his wife.

“Lord Stark,” greeted Prince Jacaerys. “My lady,” he said, kissing the top of Lady Stark’s gloved hand. She offered a small smile but could not help but notice the prince’s youth although there were not many years of difference between them nor between him and Cregan for that matter. It was true what they said, however. The crown prince looked little like a Targaryen ought to with his head of brown locks and eyes of green. In truth, Prince Jacaerys looked much more like her own brother, thought Lady Stark, save for the prince’s fox face and slender frame true of House Targaryen.

“Welcome to Winterfell,” said Cregan as he accepted the prince’s hand in his. Lord Stark towered over the prince although he towered over most any man and Prince Jacaerys was no different.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell welcomed the prince into the Great Hall where the noble councillors of Winterfell awaited, bowing and showing their respects to Princess Rhaenyra’s heir and messenger as he would name himself.

Prince Jacaerys was seated to the right of Lord Stark whilst Lady Y/N sat to his left. She nodded to the servants to bring the food and serve the drink whilst the singers sang and played their music. There was no talk of succession nor war or politics until the feast had ended. Although the Lord of Winterfell offered the prince to rest for the night before they talk, both Prince Jacaerys as well as Lord Stark were of a mind to speak now.

They walked the walls of Winterfell to ensure privacy, accompanied only by the cold and the snow. Prince Jacaerys looked toward the winter town, seeing but a few of the lights that warmed its houses during the past two years.

“I see winter is still true in the North although they say elsewise at the Citadel,” spoke the crown prince.

Lord Stark smiled although he wished to laugh. “These are only the spring snows, my prince. During winter, all that you see was covered in snow and all memory of warmth was neigh forgotten.”

Prince Jacaerys turned to his mother’s sworn vassal. Cregan Stark was a man hardened by cold and winter, a man seasoned in battle and in swordplay, whose reputation as one of the best swordsmen in all of the Seven Kingdoms preceded him. Lord Stark was only a few years his senior and yet he had seen and lived the life of a man.

Prince Jacaerys looked at Lord Stark with both envy as well as admiration. He was a royal prince and yet he had not lived or done as half as Lord Stark.

“I confess I wished to see the Wall,” said Prince Jacaerys, stirring his thoughts in another direction. “It would have pleased me to meet with you in the place where our ancestors treated.”

“Indeed,” said the Lord of Winterfell, the fur on his heavy coat ruffled by the cold winds. “At least you have the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon.” Lord Stark’s words cut a uncomfortable silence between the two young men.

“Surely the great Torren Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms.”

“You are right in that,” agreed Lord Stark as they walked along the walls of his castle.

“That unity is now threatened,” urged Prince Jacaerys. “The realm will soon tear itself apart if the men do not remember their oath sworn to King Viserys. And to his rightful heir.”

Lord Stark stopped. “Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince,” said Cregan sombrely. “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between north and south. In the winter, my duty to the North and to the Wall is even more dire than what I owe to King’s Landing,” spoke the Lord of Winterfell as they continued walking. “I need my men here.”

This time, Prince Jacaerys held his step. He frowned at his mother’s vassal, his temper as quick as any Targaryen’s. “Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne.”

Lord Stark did not heed the haste of Prince Jacaerys’ words and climbed into the northmost watchtower.

“If my mother is to defend her claim, to hold the realm united,” said Prince Jacaerys, following him into the nest, “She needs an army. War is coming – to the whole of the realm, my lord. We cannot wager without the support of the North …” spoke the prince, his words losing breath as the vastness of the North opened before his eyes. An endless sea of white spread before him, disturbed only by shadows of trees and moving clouds of snow.

“My father brought King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to see the Wall. His grace watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross it,” told Lord Stark as the prince found his breath.

“Do you think my ancestors built a seven-hundred-foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?” said Cregan, looking the crown prince dead in the eye.

The young prince stared at him pensively. “What does it keep out?” he asked.

Lord Stark eyes darkened. “Death.”

The Lord of Winterfell walked Prince Jacaerys inside the castle. He felt the weight of his father’s oath, the oath that was his own.

“I have thousands of greybeards who have already seen too many winters,” said Lord Stark. “They are … well-honed.”

“So they are old?” asked Prince Jacaerys, his brows raising slightly. They had reached the chambers prepared for him.

Lord Stark nodded solemnly but the North needed its best men to remain.

“I can ready them to march at once,” promised the Lord of Winterfell.

Prince Jacaerys smiled, grateful for Lord Stark’s dislike of pretence.

“If your greybeards can fight, the Queen will have them,” agreed Prince Jacaerys.

A smirk crept into the line of Cregan’s mouth. “They will fight hard, like Northerners.”

***

Y/N could not even find it in her to sit down, much less fall asleep until Cregan returned to their chambers. The hour was late yet Y/N was as awake as it were mid-day. She stared at her husband expectantly when he returned, a great tiredness set in his features.

“He wants our men to fight for his mother’s claim,” confirmed Lord Stark.

And what of you? Does he want you? Y/N wanted to ask but could not make herself speak.

“I told him my men need to stay in the North. The Wall must needs be protected,” said Cregan. Y/N’s chest dropped with an exhale of relief yet only for a moment.

“I offered him my greybeards,” spoke Cregan before he walked over to one of the chests with his belongings. “I will go south as soon as they are ready to march.”

Cregan’s words knocked the wind out of Y/N as her heart dropped to her stomach. She grew sick with nausea.

“I thought to save this for another occasion,” said Cregan as he took a large package wrapped in cloth of silk from one of the painted chests.

Y/N stared at him astounded but took the parcel that he offered. She laid it carefully on the bed, pulling apart the silken wrapping. A coat as white as snow lay underneath, trimmed in fur without a single hair of colour. Y/N’s lips parted as her fingers glided through the fur as soft as butter. She frowned for she knew it came from a beast as rare as any. No wolf or mink could ever produce such a soft and white coat.

“Winter fox?” Y/N thought out loud, her big round eyes rising to her husband’s.

“To keep you warm if I do not return before the next winter,” said Cregan with a small smile although he could not hide the guilt and melancholy in his grey eyes.

Y/N looked at him thunderstruck. She did not care for the coat no matter how magnificent; all she wanted was her husband.

“Before the next winter?” gasped Y/N. “But … That could be years. That will be years.”

“I swore an oath, Y/N,” said Cregan with a heavy heart. “I cannot send my men south with no one to lead them.”

You swore an oath to me too, Y/N wanted to say but was glad she did not; the last thing she wanted was to argue. She understood that the realm was more important even if she herself would have let it burn to the ground if it meant her husband would remain by her side.

Y/N looked down at Cregan’s chest as her eyes welled with tears so hot they felt as cold as ice.

Cregan did not have the words to comfort her. He only pulled her into his arms, holding her head to his chest as she wept quietly.

*** ANOTHER 2 YEARS GONE BY ***

Many moons went by, then a year and then another during which Cregan’s letters maintained Lady Stark’s sanity. If not for her children and her ever faithful friend Lady Ellyn, Y/N would be sure to lose her mind. However, with one child running around and another at her hip - a daughter born in the late spring that she named Sarra - time went by quickly for the Lady of Winterfell after the first few moons without Cregan.

The council held news of the progress of the Targaryen war in the south. It received reports of the little prince Jaehaerys’ assassination, the death of Princess Rhaenys and her dragon Meleys at Rook’s Rest, King’s Landing changing rulers faster than the wind changes in the North, and even news of Prince Aemond’s death met at the hands of Prince Daemon at God’s Eye, where the lake swallowed both Targaryen princes as well as their mighty beasts.

All the while the news of war arrived from the capital and its surrounding Houses, the Lady of Winterfell prayed in the Godswood for her husband’s safety, that neither he nor his army be met with dragonfire, and that he returns safely to her, to Winterfell, to see his son grow and meet his daughter.

Lady Stark taught her children the ways of the Old Gods and spoke often of their father. Sarra was but a near a babe still yet Rickon had known and loved his father well. He cried many a night after Lord Stark marched south, and Lady Stark cried too. However, as time passed by, Cregan’s absence became easier to bear and life forced everyone to continue living. Seed needed to be planted for the first crops and people were beginning to leave the winter town abandoned to return to their farms and fields. The castle needed mending after the harsh winter as did the Wall, and lords from all over North came to House Stark for help.

In the meanwhile, Lady Y/N grew great with child and her lady mother came to stay until the babe was born. Lady Y/N had it easier with Sarra than she had with Rickon both in terms of early sickness as well as her time in childbed. Her daughter was born in the early hours of the morning, the labour lasting only a few hours. Sarra was a small, fragile babe but quickly grew stronger as the spring turned brighter and warmer. Although Rickon looked much like his father when he was born, he had grown more and more into the character of both his mother and father. He loved climbing and riding and pestered Ser Harwyn every waking moment to train him at swordplay. Sarra, however, was silent and calm. She looked like her mother with eyes that were exactly like those of Lady Stark.

The summer neared when a raven arrived bearing Lord Stark’s grey direwolf. Lady Y/N sat with the letter in her husband’s solar and read.  

Beloved wife,

I encountered no war to speak of when my greybeards entered the red city. King’s Landing has long yielded to the many deaths of its kings and queens. I held court for six days to seek punishment for those who ended the life of King Aegon II, for no king should die of poison but on the battlefield with honour. I sought punishment for those too who conspired against the rightful heir. Many decided to take the black and join the Night’s Watch than to die at the blade of my sword. Those are the ones who will return north with me whilst many of my greybeards decide to remain in the south and in the Riverlands to attend the Widow Fairs.

I was offered a place in the king’s service that I could not accept. I long to return to you and our children, to see the towers of Winterfell rising before my eyes. When they place the crown on the boy king Aegon’s head, I will gather my men and we will march home.

Cregan

Lady Y/N reread the letter over and over again until it was engraved in her memory. Her heart beat harshly against her throat as her eyes watered yet she did not weep. She folded the letter and held it to her chest, closing her eyes as she leaned back in her husband’s chair. A ride from Winterfell to King’s Landing took a moon’s turn at the least, more with an army marching with you. Yet it did not matter. He was coming back. Cregan was returning home.

***

Lady Stark took to the Wolfswood with Ser Harwyn and an escort of knights following not far behind. She rode her mare neigh every day, the ash brown filly her husband gifted her after the passing of her beloved Blackspur. Lady Y/N named the beast Tempest for her temper and the ashen colour of her coat. Although Blackspurt had been wary of strangers but warmed up to them eventually, Tempest did not care for them. If she disliked any of them, she would show it by stomping her hooves or kicking, her teeth snapping at many a stableboy’s hand. But she was different with Lady Stark. There was a bond between the temperamental mare and the Lady of Winterfell no one could quite understand. Even in her pregnancy, Tempest sensed the change in her mistress, and whilst the horse did not care for her caretakers, she never lashed at children.

One evening Rickon resented his mother for not being to tell him when his father would return from the march. It has been close to two years since Lord Stark left for the south with his greybeards. The boy disappeared from his rooms in the night with no one being able to find him.

Lady Y/N’s first instinct was to check the stables and Squire but the boy was not there and the pony was in his stall. Whilst the castle was up in the search of Winterfell’s heir, young Rickon was hiding right where they first searched for him – in the stables. He meant to go to Squire, his beloved pony, yet as he stepped into he stable, the noise aroused Tempest.

Rickon tread carefully towards her, knowing of her temper but could not help himself. His curiosity was too great. He looked at the ashen brown mare in her stall, her breath coming out in clouds in the cold night. Rickon approached the iron bars of her door, carefully raising his hand to her muzzle. Tempest snorted, frightening little Rickon so much he fell to his butt. He did not understand why but he picked himself up and tried again. He brought his hand up to Tempest’s muzzle once again and let her smell him. Her muzzle was warm and wet against his touch, causing a smile to spread across Rickon’s lips. He carefully pushed open the door to her stall and met her, standing twice his size. His heart was thumping in his chest with excitement but he was not afraid.

They found the boy in the morning when one of the stableboys brought Tempest her grain and came to clean her stall. The mare was lying in the hay, staring warily at the stableboy whilst little Rickon slept against her belly.

Cold northern winds whooshed through the forest, rocking the tall trees of Wolfswood. Lady Stark’s gaze rose to their swaying crowns as she took in the fresh air after being cooped up in council meetings and hearing of the issues of the smallfolk. She had to condemn two thieves and a rapist – the thieves lost the same amount of fingers as the chickens they stole whilst the rapist chose death over taking the black and Lady Stark was glad for it.

Every time the Lady of Winterfell had to condemn a rapist she remembered the bandits who attacked her many years ago right there in the Wolfswood. She could not forgive herself for not taking an escort that time. If she had, the knights would have cut down the delinquents and they would never have had the chance to despoil that peasant girl. Lady Stark often rode past her father’s farm to see how they were living. When the girl wed last year, Lady Y/N then found a way to pass by her husband’s carpentry shop, making sure the girl and her family had everything they needed. It pained Lady Y/N to see the girl bow her head to her and curtsy clumsily when Y/N passed by on Tempest when she was the one who wanted to drop to her knees and beg the girl forgiveness.

“Have there been any more news from King’s Landing?” asked Ser Harwyn, the master-of-arms at Winterfell, waking Lady Stark from her thoughts.

“Not since Rhaenyra’s boy was crowned,” said Lady Y/N, leading her mare up a gentle slope.

It has been more than two moon's since the youngest son of Queen Rhaenyra was crowned Aegon III Targaryen although the smallfolk had already named him Aegon the Unlucky.

“Mayhaps Lord Stark took rest at Riverrun,” suggested Ser Harwyn, following his lady up the slope on his tall red gelding.

Lady Stark did not say anything. She would not allow herself to think of Cregan’s return for she found it consumed her thoughts and she could not find the will to do any of her duties if she did so. When Cregan left to fight the wildlings shortly after they were wed, Y/N felt almost as if she were greeting a stranger when he returned; and they have been parted for only four moons. It has been more than two years since they last saw each other now. Y/N could not bear to think of her husband finding company in another woman’s arms, of his love for her blowing away like the leaves off a dying tree.

“I would return to the castle though Stone Creek,” said Lady Stark to keep her thoughts from drifting.

“Past the girl Alys’s house?” asked Ser Harwyn although he already knew the answer. He as well as any who were there that day when the bandits were tried and condemned by Lord Cregan Stark knew the wroth of the Lord of Winterfell and the justice of his lady wife.

It was Ser Harwyn too who found the girl for Lady Stark and told her of her name and where she lived. Alys wed a carpenter, a boy her age with yellow hair and eyes the colour of the sky.

As Lady Stark commanded, they passed though Stone Creek on the way back to the castle. It was a small village of some half a dozen farms and their respective fields. The smallfolk stopped their work when the Lady of Winterfell passed on her tall mare and bowed their heads with respect. The Lady Stark wore a gown of pale poppy red with hems and bodice embroidered in the string-of-gold. It has been more than five years since Lady Y/N of Whytefort became their Lady of Winterfell yet none of her beauty faded in that time. She only grew further into her womanhood although ruling Winterfell made Lady Y/N harder. It strengthened her back in her saddle and firmed her slender yet womanly body with authority.

Lady Stark passed by the girl Alys’s house. She saw her in her garden surrounded by blooming herbs as she fed the chickens, her newborn baby crying softly in its woven bassinet. It has been a while since Y/N passed through Stone Creek for the last time she saw Alys was when the girl was still great with child.

Lady Stark smiled to herself and spurred Tempest on. The escort of knights followed as their hooves thumped through the small village. Winterfell already rose in the distance when the sky turned grey, its menacing clouds foretelling rain.

The company spurred their mounts to a leisurely gallop as they crossed the fields and meadows back to the safety of the castle. A drop of rain fell here and there but Lady Stark hoped to reach Winterfell before the downpour. The air was thick with humidity in the face of the summer. Y/N thought she heard thunder in the distance yet her eyes fell upon a darkness beneath the walls of Winterfell.

Lady Stark reined Tempest to an abrupt halt at the sight of the massive host of warriors beneath her castle. Ser Harwyn and the knights pulled up their mounts to a sudden stop as well, their horses neighing and pacing anxiously.

The sound of Y/N’s heart echoed through her mind as hot fever crept up her neck. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Gods,” gasped Lady Stark soundlessly as more raindrops began to fall but her gaze was set on the horizon.

Y/N's heels nudged Tempest’s belly as she urged her on with haste. They fell into a gallop so swift that Lady Stark’s hair escaped her pearl-embroidered net and floated freely in the wind. The castle approached quickly yet not nearly quickly enough. Tempest’s long muscular legs outran the other mounts who carried knights clad in heavy armour. Lady Y/N passed through the winter town, nearly knocking down a man and his flour cart in her haste. The sound of Tempest’s horseshoes against the cobblestones of the castle echoed in Y/N’s ears along with the wild beating of her own heart.

Lady Stark reached the innermost courtyard as thick raindrops began to fall in the thousands. As Y/N reined Tempest in, the young mare nearly rose to her hind legs. Tempest paced restlessly and snorted loudly as her breathless mistress sat frozen in her saddle. Y/N’s eyes found her husband standing beneath the stone canopy of the castle’s entrance, his formidable grey eyes awaiting the sight of the approaching rider.

Y/N’s breathing was loud and laboured as heavy rain fell down her face. Thunder echoed through the sky as Lord Stark came out to her. A stableboy rushed in and took the reins of Lady Stark’s mount. Cregan’s arms went to his wife’s waist as he lifted her from her saddle and helped her down. Y/N’s hands gripped onto Cregan’s arms, holding him tightly. To her, he looked the same as the day he left her. Her eyes welled with hot tears as heavy rain poured on the both of them.

“Is it really you?” asked Y/N, tears falling down her cheeks. Her body trembled. “Are you … Are you really back?”

Cregan watched her beautiful eyes, deep like pools with hope and longing. “It’s me,” he spoke as his large sword-calloused hand caressed her cheek, the tip of his thumb brushing across her lips. Cregan leaned in and kissed her desperately, having dreamed of this moment for what seemed to him a hundred years. His arms locked around Y/N’s waist, her feet no longer touching the floor. Even as they reached for air, their lips returned to one another’s, not being able to let go of each other’s bodies.

“Father,” said a small, breathless voice yet it was the only voice that could make the Lord and Lady of Winterfell tear away from each other.

Rickon stood beneath the stone canopy, not being able to believe his eyes either.

“Father!” called Rickon and ran out into the summer rain, his arms wrapping around his father’s neck. Cregan picked up his son and held the boy close to him, his heart aching with the time he had missed fighting for a crown he did not care for.

“Did you look after your mother, son?” asked Cregan against his son’s hair. Rickon pulled away, his big grey eyes meeting his father’s as he smiled.

“I did,” said Rickon proudly, “And I looked after Sarra too.”

Cregan turned to Y/N with Rickon securely in his arms. His grey eyes were drenched with guilt and love so profound he did not know how he was able to contain it in his chest.

“I would meet her,” asked Cregan, his voice soft as he stole another kiss from his wife. She took his hand and nodded as they got away from the rain.

Sarra was down for an afternoon sleep when Y/N showed Cregan to her nursery. The wetnurse stood up and bowed, startled as she saw the Lord of Winterfell had returned.

"Leave us please," Lady Stark gave her a small smile. The wetnurse bowed again and left the Lord and Lady of Winterfell with their daughter.

Cregan knelt beside Sarra’s small bed, his heart ripping into a thousand small pieces. A shaky breath escaped his lungs as he caressed his daughter’s soft hair from her face.

“She is so beautiful,” whispered Cregan, unable to take his eyes off Sarra. “She looks just like you.”

Y/N ran her hand across Cregan’s broad shoulders as she stood beside him, her heart filled with so much happiness it brought tears to her eyes. The Gods listened to her prayers.

Cregan took Y/N’s palm and kissed it as rain dripped off her long hair. He looked up at her. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

“I missed you, my love,” said Cregan as he stood up, his hands cupping Y/N’s cheeks. “I always dreamed of you.” He caressed Y/N's face gently with his thumbs, his gaze memorizing her beautiful eyes. Cregan kissed his wife tenderly.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter three of ten

wc. 3.8K

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 4 [soon!]

Gojo Satoru had never felt more out of control. It was a foreign sensation, one he hadn’t experienced in years, but as he returned to Jujutsu High, a hollow ache settled in his chest. The walk back from the hideout had been quiet, too quiet, and now the weight of what had transpired bore down on him with suffocating intensity.

You had chosen Geto over him.

That thought alone gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the image of you standing there, resolute in your decision. His words, his attempts to pull you back—it hadn’t been enough. You had walked away from him without looking back. For the first time in a long while, Gojo felt powerless.

The moment he arrived at the Jujutsu High dormitory, the eerie silence of the abandoned halls greeted him. Your room—your old room—stood at the end of the corridor, untouched since the day you left. Gojo hesitated outside the door for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle. His heart was pounding in his chest, and for once, he wasn’t sure what he would find when he stepped inside.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing the quiet, dimly lit space. Your bed was unmade, the blankets haphazardly tossed aside as if you had left in a hurry. Clothes were strewn across the room, and the bag you had taken with you was missing. But what caught Gojo’s attention immediately was the trash bin near your desk, its contents peeking out from under a few crumpled papers.

A letter.

Gojo’s breath hitched in his throat as he approached the trash, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the letter free from the discarded mess. The envelope was crumpled and torn at the edges, as if it had been thrown away carelessly, but the sight of his name written in your neat handwriting stopped him cold. It was your letter—the one you had given him with the chocolates, the one he had barely glanced at when you tried to confess your feelings.

For the first time, he realized what he had truly done.

His throat tightened as he unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning over your words. The confession was simple, heartfelt, written with care and a vulnerability that he hadn’t recognized at the time. You had poured your heart into this letter, and he had dismissed it without a second thought. You had been trying to reach out to him, and he had rejected you.

Gojo’s hands shook as he read the letter over and over again, his heart sinking with every word. He could see it now—the pain you had hidden behind your shy demeanor, the quiet longing in your eyes when you looked at him. He had been too wrapped up in his own world to notice, too oblivious to the effect his actions had on you.

And now you were gone.

His gaze shifted to the trash bin again, where the box of chocolates you had made for him lay discarded. The once-beautifully wrapped package was ruined, the chocolates inside left to rot for weeks. Gojo bent down and picked up the box, his chest tightening as he realized just how long they had sat there, untouched. You had made these for him, and he had thrown them away without even giving them a second thought.

A lump formed in his throat as the reality of what he had done hit him like a punch to the gut. You had given him everything, and he had crushed it beneath his careless rejection.

No wonder you had left. No wonder you had turned to Geto. He had driven you away.

Gojo sank onto your bed, the letter still in his hand, his mind racing. He had been so blind, so oblivious to your pain. He had let you slip through his fingers, and now you were in the hands of the one person he couldn’t stand to lose anyone to—Suguru Geto.

Days passed, and as Gojo struggled with the consequences of his actions, your life with Geto began to take shape.

The transition into Geto’s world was jarring at first, but the more time you spent in his presence, the more you felt a sense of belonging. Geto wasn’t like Gojo. Where Gojo had been aloof, unpredictable, and distant, Geto was calm, steady, and composed. He understood you in a way that Gojo never had. He didn’t see you as weak or shy—he saw potential in you, something that could be molded and strengthened.

You trained relentlessly, determined to prove yourself to Geto and his followers. Every day brought new challenges, new ways to harness your cursed energy. Though you weren’t the strongest, your determination earned you respect from those around you, and Geto took notice. He began to spend more time with you, personally overseeing your training, guiding you through techniques that would strengthen your abilities.

There was a quiet approval in his gaze whenever you succeeded, a sense of pride that he didn’t show to many. It wasn’t affection, not in the way you had once craved from Gojo, but it was something that grounded you. Geto believed in you. He saw something in you that no one else had, and that belief spurred you forward.

The more time you spent under Geto’s guidance, the more you found yourself embracing his ideals. The resentment you felt toward the world that had once ignored you now fueled your desire to grow stronger, to prove that you were more than what others had thought. Geto’s vision of a world where the weak no longer held back the strong resonated with you in a way that felt liberating. You were tired of being invisible, of being disregarded.

And with Geto, you were no longer invisible.

One afternoon, after na intense training session, Geto approached you as you sat, catching your breath on the edge of a training field.

“You’ve been progressing well,” he said, his voice calm but laced with approval. “Better than I expected.”

You looked up at him, your chest still heaving from exertion. His words meant more than you cared to admit. “Thank you,” you said quietly, feeling the weight of his praise settle in your chest.

Geto nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he spoke again. “You’ve proven yourself to be more than just another follower. I see great potential in you.” His words were deliberate, carrying the weight of expectation. “You remind me of someone I once knew. Someone who had the same fire.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You knew who he was referring to. Gojo.

“But unlike him,” Geto continued, his gaze sharpening, “you understand what it means to be truly strong. To stand for something greater.”

You nodded, his words resonating deep within you. Gojo had never understood you the way Geto did. He had seen you as just another student, another face in the crowd. But Geto saw more. He saw your potential, your desire to grow, and he had given you a place where you could belong.

As the days passed, your bond with Geto grew stronger. He took you under his wing, guiding you not only in battle but in the way you viewed the world. The bitterness that had once festered inside you now fueled your determination, and with every day that passed, you felt yourself growing closer to Geto’s cause.

You no longer thought of Gojo the way you used to. The pain of his rejection still lingered, but it no longer consumed you. You had found something new—something stronger.

And as Geto’s trusted student, you had a new purpose.

Days blended into weeks as you trained, grew stronger, and found your place among Geto’s inner circle. It wasn’t just about power anymore; it was about purpose, about finding people who believed in the same ideals, who didn’t see you as weak or broken.

It was strange at first, being around Geto’s trusted followers. You had never been particularly close to anyone back at Jujutsu High, never felt like you fit in with the others. But here, with Geto’s inner circle, things were different. They were a found family of sorts, bound together by shared beliefs and a mutual loyalty to Geto. He treated them with respect, something far beyond what you had expected when you first joined him.

Geto formally introduced you to his closest companions after one of your more grueling training sessions, a day when you had pushed yourself harder than ever before. Exhausted but satisfied with your progress, you found yourself in a quiet corner of the hideout, catching your breath when Geto approached, flanked by three familiar faces.

“These are my most trusted,” Geto said, gesturing to the three individuals behind him. “You’ll be spending more time with them.”

You recognized them from earlier encounters but hadn’t spoken much to any of them. One of them, a tall man with sharp features and a laid-back demeanor, offered a friendly smile. “Larue,” he said, introducing himself with a casual wave. “Nice to finally meet you properly.”

Beside him stood a girl with short, dark hair and sharp eyes—Mimiko, as Geto had referred to her before. She nodded at you, her expression unreadable but not unkind. “We’ve seen you around,” she said quietly, studying you.

The last person was a bit more standoffish, a girl with bright hair - tied up who seemed more interested in her phone than the conversation at hand. Her name was Nanako, and though she didn’t say much, you got the sense that she was fiercely loyal to Geto and his cause.

“You’ll be training with us from now on,” Nanako continued, his tone light but sincere. “It’s good to have you here.”

Something about their acceptance, even if it was tentative, made the knot in your chest loosen a little. They didn’t see you as na outsider. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t alone.

As the days passed, you started spending more time with Geto’s close circle. Training was intense, but there was something oddly comforting about the routine, about the way they welcomed you into their fold. You weren’t sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, you realized that these people had become something of a family—a place where you could finally belong. Geto was their leader, their guide, but he was also more than that. He had given them something greater, something they hadn’t found anywhere else, and you were slowly beginning to understand that feeling for yourself.

But even in this new life, you hadn’t expected anyone to notice something as small as your birthday.

When the day finally arrived, you had no plans to tell anyone. Birthdays had always been quiet affairs for you, something that passed with little fanfare. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the occasion, but you had learned to keep such things to yourself.

So, you spent the morning training alone, assuming the day would pass as any other. But in the late afternoon, as you retreated to your room, tired and ready to spend the rest of the day in solitude, a soft knock on your door startled you.

“Come in,” you called, expecting one of Geto’s followers with a task or message.

But when the door opened, it was Geto himself who stepped inside, his usual composed demeanor softened by a small, almost teasing smile. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his presence filling the room.

“I heard today’s a special day,” Geto said, his tone light but deliberate.

Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart skipping a beat. How did he know? You hadn’t told anyone.

“I—” you started, but Geto cut you off with a raised hand, still smiling.

“No need to explain. Come with me,” he said simply.

You blinked in confusion. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” was all he said.

There was something about the way he spoke, so casual yet commanding, that made you follow him without hesitation. You left your room and followed him through the hallways of the hideout, the air between you charged with na unusual energy.

When you finally stepped outside, the fresh air hit you like a wave. It was rare to leave the hideout for anything other than missions or training, so this felt different, almost like na adventure. You hadn’t expected Geto to take time away from his duties, especially not for something as trivial as your birthday.

He led you into the nearby town, its narrow streets bustling with evening activity. The soft glow of streetlights lit the way, and the air smelled faintly of something sweet. You followed Geto through the winding roads until you stopped in front of a small shop, its windows displaying delicate pastries and desserts.

“Crepes,” Geto said, as if answering the question you hadn’t asked. “Thought it’d be a nice change of pace.”

Your eyes widened again in surprise. This was… oddly domestic. You hadn’t expected this from Geto. Not at all.

He held the door open for you, and you stepped inside, the sweet aroma of crepes filling the air. The shop was small and cozy, and the cashier greeted you with a warm smile as you approached the counter.

“Pick whatever you like,” Geto said, his tone casual, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

You hesitated for a moment, still trying to process what was happening, but eventually, you pointed to one of the crepes on the menu. It was simple, filled with strawberries and cream, but it felt like the perfect choice. Geto ordered the same for himself, and after paying, the two of you sat down at a small table near the window.

As you ate, the conversation between you was light, almost easy. Geto asked about your training, about how you were adjusting to life with his followers. He listened carefully to your answers, his usual calm demeanor ever-present.

For a moment, it felt like everything was normal—like you were just two people enjoying a quiet evening, talking about nothing in particular. It was strange, how domestic it felt, but at the same time, it was comforting.

But that comfort was short-lived.

As you sat there, finishing the last bite of your crepe, a familiar presence washed over you—a cursed energy you would recognize anywhere. Your heart skipped a beat, your chest tightening as you realized who it was.

Gojo Satoru.

He stepped into the shop as if he owned the place, his towering figure impossible to miss. His white hair glowed under the soft lights, and the moment his eyes landed on you and Geto, his casual, carefree expression faltered for just a split second.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was the last thing you had expected—a quiet birthday outing with Geto, only to be confronted by the one person you had been running from. Gojo’s eyes flickered between you and Geto, his usual mask slipping slightly as his gaze hardened.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Gojo said, his voice light but with na unmistakable edge. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes settling on you. “Didn’t expect to find you two out here.”

Geto’s posture shifted subtly, his gaze calm but watchful. He leaned back slightly in his chair, crossing his arms as he regarded Gojo with a quiet intensity. “It’s a small world, after all.”

The tension between them was palpable, crackling like electricity in the air. You could feel it—the weight of the history between them, the unspoken conflict simmering beneath the surface. And now, you were caught in the middle.

Your chest tightened as Gojo’s gaze lingered on you, a thousand unspoken words hanging between the two of you. What would he say? What could he say?

But before either of them could speak again, you found yourself frozen in place, unsure of what was about to unfold in this unexpected confrontation.

The tension in the air was suffocating, the tiny crepe shop suddenly feeling too small as Gojo’s presence filled the room. The lighthearted atmosphere you’d shared with Geto vanished the moment Gojo stepped in. His usual casual grin was gone, replaced by na unreadable expression that made your stomach churn. You knew this moment would come eventually, but not like this—certainly not on what had started as a rare, peaceful moment between you and Geto.

Gojo’s piercing gaze flicked between you and Geto, lingering on you longer than you were comfortable with. His jaw tightened for a moment before he spoke again, his voice deceptively calm.

“So, enjoying your night out?” he asked, his tone light but laced with something heavier beneath the surface.

You swallowed hard, not sure how to respond. The weight of his stare made you feel like a child caught in a bad situation, but you were no longer the person who had stood before him in your confession, waiting for validation. You had made your choice, and Gojo had to know that.

Geto leaned back in his chair, his calm demeanor never faltering. “Just grabbing some crepes. A simple celebration, really.”

The way Geto said it—so casual, so nonchalant—felt like a challenge, even though his voice was soft and smooth. He was always so composed, so sure of himself, especially around Gojo. You couldn’t help but notice how different the two men were: Gojo, always radiating na untouchable energy, and Geto, commanding respect with quiet authority. And yet, despite the vast differences between them, their history lingered between them like na invisible wound.

Gojo’s lips twitched in a humorless smile. “A celebration, huh? Must be a special occasion.”

Of course you didn't.

He looked directly at you this time, his voice quieter but his eyes intense. “I didn’t know you liked crepes.”

You froze, unsure of what to say. The last time you and Gojo had spoken, you had told him you were done, that you were following Geto. And yet here he was, standing in front of you, making small talk like you hadn’t turned your back on everything you once knew. It was disorienting—painful, even.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Geto spoke first, his tone light but firm. “Everyone’s entitled to some happiness, Satoru. Even those who’ve chosen a different path.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his posture shifting slightly as he regarded Geto with a mix of frustration and something else—something that felt like unspoken anger. It was as if they were having an entire conversation with their eyes, one filled with history and unresolved conflict.

“So, this is your life now?” Gojo asked, his voice dropping lower as he focused on you. “Following Geto around like one of his little disciples? Is this really what you want?”

The question stung, cutting through the fragile wall you had built around yourself. You wanted to believe in Geto’s cause, in the sense of purpose he had given you. But Gojo’s words were like a knife, reopening the wound that had never fully healed. Was this truly what you wanted, or was it just the only path left after Gojo had shattered your heart?

You straightened your back, forcing yourself to meet Gojo’s gaze. “I’ve already made my decision.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, his eyes softening for a moment before hardening again. “You’re better than this,” he said quietly, almost like a plea. “You don’t belong with him.”

Geto’s eyes flickered, his calm demeanor shifting just slightly. “Satoru, I think she’s capable of making her own decisions.”

Gojo didn’t take his eyes off you, his voice steady but filled with tension. “Is she? Or are you just using her, like you do with everyone else?”

The accusation hung in the air like a sword, and for a moment, the room went completely still. You felt the weight of Gojo’s words settle over you, the implication that Geto was manipulating you—just like Gojo believed he had manipulated others. It made your chest tighten, a confusing swirl of emotions pulling at you from every direction.

Geto didn’t react immediately. He remained seated, his gaze fixed on Gojo, but his posture had shifted subtly, a tension simmering just beneath the surface. “She came to me of her own will. I didn’t force her hand.”

The subtle threat in Geto’s voice was impossible to miss, and Gojo, always one to challenge authority, stepped closer, his hand twitching slightly at his side. For a split second, you thought this could escalate into something worse, something physical. The power radiating from Gojo was undeniable, and you could feel it crackling in the air around him.

But before things could escalate, you stood from your seat, stepping between the two men. The last thing you wanted was for them to clash because of you. You could feel the tension rolling off both of them, and you had no doubt that if things got out of hand, it wouldn’t end well.

“Stop,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the silence.

Both Gojo and Geto turned to look at you, their gazes sharp and expectant. For a brief moment, the three of you were locked in a silent standoff, the weight of years of history between Gojo and Geto hanging heavily in the air.

“I’ve made my choice,” you said, your voice steady but filled with the weight of your emotions. “I’m with Geto now. This is where I belong.”

Gojo’s face twisted into something resembling hurt for the briefest moment before his usual impassive mask slipped back into place. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you said, though the words tasted bitter on your tongue. “You can’t keep coming after me. I’m not… I’m not your responsibility anymore.”

The words hung between you, the finality of them sinking into your chest like a stone. Gojo’s eyes flickered, the tension in his body slowly draining as he processed your words. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching on endlessly.

Then, without warning, he sighed, stepping back slightly. “Fine,” he said softly, his voice lacking its usual bravado. “If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”

Your heart twisted painfully at his words. You had made your decision, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear him finally give up on trying to pull you back.

Gojo turned to leave, his hand on the door. But just before he stepped out, he paused, his back to you and Geto.

“I just hope you know what you’re getting into,” he said quietly, not turning to face you. “Because once you go down this road, there’s no turning back.”

With that, he walked out of the shop, leaving you and Geto alone in the quiet aftermath.

You stood there, your heart racing, trying to steady your breath. Gojo was gone. He had given up, just as you had wanted. But the empty feeling in your chest told you that it wasn’t as simple as that.

Geto, always calm, finally stood up from the table and stepped beside you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm but not forceful. “You made the right choice,” he said softly, his voice reassuring. “Don’t let Satoru’s words shake you.”

But as you looked at the door Gojo had just walked through, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had truly made the right choice—or if, once again, you were letting yourself be led down a path you didn’t fully understand.

Because Gojo’s final words echoed in your mind, refusing to be silenced.

“There’s no turning back.”

And you weren’t sure you were ready for what that meant.

notes: i forgot to post yesterday skjdejfdsjf sorry! <3 if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss @asahinasstuff @feitanett @xdinaryheroesstan @laviefantasie @hyunsuks-beanie @starlightanyaaa @tanyaspartak @forever-paramore28 @saatorubby @ssetsuka

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[casuallyanidiot]

Author author!! More of deer yandere please😞🙏🙏

Yandere deer hybrid who's so eager to start breeding you. It doesn't matter if you can even get pregnant or not because by god he's going to try his hardest.

Continuation to this

Tw. Noncon, dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, yandere, captivity, breeding kink, overstimulation, bone breaking (mentioned), gn pronouns used for reader, MDNI

Ciervus waits until your leg heals to start the whole ordeal. Never mind the fact that he was the one who broke it, he lavishes you with praise and sympathy. He strokes your hair and whispers about how good you're being by staying nice and pliant in the cave he's prepared for you. You're his good little doe, all snuggled and sweet in his nest.

It almost gives him a sort of rush knowing that you were this big bad thing prowling around the woods with death at their heels. Who would guess that you were so fragile and so fuckable? He chuckles to himself as he pushes your face down into a soft bundle of fur and grabs your ankle. He rolls it gently, and he listens with a contemplative hum as you squeak in slight protest and pain.

"Well, it doesn't seem like it hurts much as before," He comments and lets your foot go limp. Despite the progress, he knows that you're never going to be able to walk the same ever again. He hopes you'll heal enough eventually, but it won't get to the point where you can outrun him. That's all he really cares about anyways.

His antlers have grown a fair amount since he last shed them and presented them to you like a prize. He feels them idly while smoothing his other hand down your nude back. He likes the feeling of your shuddering spine beneath his fingers, and he marvels at how quickly the time has passed. Already a couple months spent cuddling with his little doe... it's honestly impressive how he hasn't lost his composure yet.

But there's no more putting it off, little doe.

He hums and wordlessly grabs your thighs before spreading them apart. Your breath hitches, and his grin widens as he sees your twitching little ass and your leaking privates. His chest rises and fall more rapidly, and he'd forgive you if you mistook him for a snarling, drooling predator in that moment.

"Oh look at you..." He breathes out, kneading the sensitive flesh. You try and drag yourself away, but he gently tsks at the pathetic effort. "Now now, no need to be all shy," He teases lightly, and he positions himself right between your shaking legs. He's not totally oblivious despite the fact that he's never been with anyone before. The right of mating is deeply ingrained in his brain: a gift from generations before to ensure that whatever doe he was trying to pump full of babies would be pliant and sweet with pleasure.

His hands find his cock (impossibly long for a human, even impressive by hybrid standards), and his spits in his palm before he begins to pump and tug on the sensitive skin. He smacks your ass, enjoying the way the flesh jiggles, and he hisses in pleasure. You're everything he's ever wanted. Not these insipid little things that run about the woods and waste his time. You're the real thing. He snakes his hand around and coats it in your tears, shuddering at how you sob despite your pride.

Heat coils in his belly with each movement of his wrist, and he throws his head back with a hearty groan. His release is unceremonious, but he knows the main event is yet to begin. Ropes of his cum coat your lower back and entrance, and he relished the sight, the smell of him on you.

" There, hah, now we can get you all nice and ready," He huffs out and doubled over you so his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades. His antlers graze against your skin, and if you move too much you'd surely be pricked by them. His shuddering, quiet laughs ghost over your skin. His fingers scoop his cum off your warm skin and dips them down to your twitching, dry entrance. He presses kisses to your neck, and he shushes you when he feels you tense.

"No no no, you're fine, you're fine shhhh. Just give me a moment to make you feel good," He murmurs and leans forward to nibble on your earlobe. Fuck, you're clamping down on his fingers. He hears you hiss out a bit in discomfort, and he coos. He gets knuckle deep, his cum acting like a lubricant to help the process as he stretches you out. You whimper and whine, but eventually he curls his digits in just the right spot to get you all loose and gaping.

He teases you with a little bite to your shoulder, and he rears back enough to line himself up and sink his length in inch by agonizing inch.

You were so tight, the fear making you clamp around him in all the right, delicious ways. All these months of watching, waiting salivating over you, and now he's where he's wanted to be. You twitched, rolling your hips underneath him. He wasn't sure about if it was because you were enjoying this or if it was just another pathetic, stupid attempt to leave him. He grips you by the back of your neck, his other hand gripping your hip as he thrusts roughly into you.

The cave was filled with his grunting, your squeals and moans, and the sounds of your bodies slapping together. He pressed kisses all over you, grabbing your face to turn you into an awkward, arched position where he could bully his cock further into your spongy walls and give you sloppy, smiling kisses.

Soon, he groans and dumps a hot load in you, and he feels you relax. You pant and tremble from your own forced orgasm, and he grins through the darkness. He pets your head, and he feels his cock soften in you. There's a sense of relief from the both of you, you for it being over and Ciervus for it happening at all.

He does feel a bit bad, though, as he member twitches back to life. Your eyes widen, and he pins you down before you can struggle. He's far from done with you, little doe.

[cherryheairt]

Idea by @itsaslaminak tysm 🩷

In His Arms

Summary- Cregan Stark comforting his wife through a thunderstorm

named! reader with no desc, made up house between Dorne and the Reach.

not proofread just wanted to get something out. I've been so swamped

When Lenora discovered her betrothal to Lord Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, she was confused first and foremost. Her, a firstborn daughter of House Keaton, a house that bordered between the Reach and Dorne, a dry and arid place. Northerners hardly married anyone who wasn't born and bred in the North, let alone married from a house allied with Dorne. Never in Westeros history has such a marriage been prospected, but a sudden need for alliance had sprung up one Winter.

The Starks were in need of livestock in stead of the harsh winter, and Martells were in need of supplies and ships. A pact was made for an annual trade to by conducted every early winter, for as long as relations were well between the two kingdoms. With the Martell Princesses all being married off already, Prince Qoren decided to send a vassel house's daughter instead. So, Lord Lent Keaton provided his eldest daughter to Lord Stark in a marriage and trade alliance, providing a generation of trust between the Dornish and Northerners.

It had taken months to travel North, with Lenora dreading every step that brought her closer to her mysterious bethrothed. Her parents and ladies in waiting could not join her on such a far journey, their services needed elsewhere during the time, so Lenora was left with only two of her maids and the guards protecting her carriage. The weather, too, was almost unbearable. By the time she had gotten there, the boats of livestock had long since reached the North to get the people through the harsh winter. Winter was long over by her arrival. Though, it hardly seemed that way given the powdery show falling over her hair and shoulders the moment she stepped from her box.

A welcome party was in Winterfell's square to greet the young Lady, consisting of Lord Stark, his sister, and a few of his trusted council members and bannermen.

It was easy to tell which one was Cregan. With a broad and tall figure, dusty brown hair that was half tied back, and a massive brown pelt held over his shoulders and clasped together with the signature Stark direwolf. A long face, straight nose, and fine lips turned into a straight line. As she got closer, she noticed steely grey eyes to match the longsword strapped to his shoulder. An intimidating sight, one quite unlike the friendly faces of Dornish men.

Was he unhappy with her? Burdened by the fact that he had to marry a Dornish girl in order for his people to thrive in the cold winters? Or was it simply the face of a hardened Northerner? Lenora had heard they were all miserable and serious, even with their own close families. Glancing at Sara Snow, she wasn't quite sure of that. The girl's pale face was set in a charming smile as she bounced on her feet as if to contain her excitement.

Lenora was glad to see a friendly face in such a cold place. Perhaps even if her husband was distant, she could still have a friend to keep her company.

Her eyes trailed back to Cregan, who stepped forward to meet her. Tilting his chin down slightly, he grabbed her hand to meet her knuckles in a kiss that seemed too delicate for a man like him. "I welcome you to Winterfell, Lady Lenora. I hope your travels were not too arduous."

Even his voice was rough, with that thick Northen accent she had only heard in King's Landings' tourneys. The stark difference between his accent and the usual one of her own kin made her stomach stir with warm nerves, the tone pleasing to her ears.

"It was no trouble at all, my Lord. Though, I dare say that the bite of the North was not at all as I expected. I half-thought the tales of the permanent snow where merely exaggerations."

He smiled, showing a softer part of him that Lenora hadn't expected to see. Truthfully, she was unsure if he could smile at first sight. She decided it fit him well, and hoped such an expression oft graced his comely features.

"You'll find Winterfell much different than the summerlands of House Keaton, my Lady. I will ensure that you can acclimate to our lands quickly. I've had some warm dresses and pelts commissioned for you over the winter, if they please you." He offered an arm to Lenora, which she took with a warmed face.

He glanced up and down briefly at the young lady, assesing her clothes discreetly. She had taken her warmest gowns for her travels, though even bundled up with many blankets in the box, she did not find much warmth. Hopefully, North-made attire would prove to be more useful. The dress she wore now exposed more than she had seen on other women at the passing inns and small Northern towns. In the heat of Dorne, modesty was not taken so prudishly as it was in other places. People were free to wear thin silks, laces, and cottons as well as strappy and more revealing necklines. Skirts were thin and flowy, as they should be for ease of walking and air flow.

When visiting King's Landing, her outfits earned her more than a couple of prolonged stares, either of judgment or unveiled lust. She took them all in stride, only strutting past any onlookers with a striking confidence; as any Dornish lady should uphold.

Now, she couldn't help but feel sheepish under Cregan's steel gaze. Did he think her silly for not preparing garments herself over the winter? Or perhaps unfit to serve as Lady of Winterfell with such improper attire. Sara had dressed like a true Stark, with a light blue dress lined with wolf pelt at the wrists and collar along with brown gloves to match. Even while showing off little of her figure and only her face, she still looked a picture of Northern beauty with blue eyes and contrasing dark black hair.

"Anything you provide, I am most grateful for, my Lord. I am not a difficult person to please." She mentioned, tilting her head up to meet his eyes as they walked into the Great Keep.

Inside, it was much warmer. Lenora felt the Keep's ancient. presence surround her like a safety blanket. It was a heavy feeling, much different from the open walls of her own family house.

As if noticing her relief, Cregan started, "Winterfell is built on a group of hot springs, keeping it warm throughout all the seasons. The water lines the walls," he nodded towards the stone walls surronding them. "To keep us warm. You will find it most comfortable in the Keep, but I hope that does not deter you from exploring Winterfell and Winter Town as you please."

Lenora nodded, taking the halls in and memorizing them as they walked. "I am excited to meet the people of Winter Town. I hope to settle in to my duties quicky." She said pointedly, glancing at Cregan to guage his reaction. Many lords in the Crownlands, Reach, and Stormlands did not care for their wives beyond just making heirs, and so they were often cast aside and did not have any duties to take care of. Lenora grew up with her mother and father both being busy constantly with their duties, sharing the burden as head of a great House.

Winterfell was an even greater House yet, one that Lenora hoped to be welcomed to by the commonfolk and leige lords alike. That started with being active in the communities, and an attentive Lady.

He nodded, "I will let you get adjusted to the North before anything else. After the wedding, and the honeymoon period, I will teach you the duties of a Stark Lady." Cregan promised her kindly.

Lenora was grateful for the immediate response, and found herself eager for this arrangement. 'A Stark Lady' ran through her mind many times as she settled into her temporary chambers. She liked the sound of it.

Many moon turns later, Lenora had turned her attentions almost fully to her duties. Organizing the Great Keep's staff, taking care of Winter Town's events and charities, and so on. She took to it naturally, with Cregan's help, and found the commonfolk of Winterfell had accepted their new Southern Wardeness with open hearts.

Cregan, too, shared that sentiment. Though the wedding was a beautiful affair, it was a bit tense given that the bride and groom were only just acquainted. The honeymoon weeks were spent purely in each other's company to get to know the other. Horseback rides in the mornings, hunts in the afternoons, settling down in their marital chambers in the evenings; all their days were spent in content and relaxation. At the end of their honeymoon, they finally felt comfortable enough to perform the bedding ceremony without the watchful eyes of any Lords or maesters.

Though Lenora had shown no signs of being with child yet, she was still content. Cregan showed no comtempt with the matter either, telling his wife that a child would come when it was time, should the Gods will it. She agreed quite happily, secretly enjoying having her Lord husband all to herself.

On night's like these, she was ever more grateful for it. After they finished their separate days, Lenora and Cregan settled into bed together. Lenora, in a baby blue night shift and Cregan, in only a loose pair of trousers.

Lenora had oft told Cregan how comforting it was to listen to his heartbeat as she fell asleep, so he took to sleeping without a tunic since their first days together. The chill was kept away by the many pelts on their bed and their own body heat combined.

With her head lying on his chest and his large hand rubbing up and down her back soothingly, she felt herself drifting from the light conversation.

"...not to worry too much about the solstace feast."

"Hm?" Lenora murmured, lifted her head to meet his eyes.

Cregan smiled knowingly, shaking his head. "Never mind, we can discuss that in the morrow. Go to sleep, my girl." He said quietly, kissing her hairline gently.

Unable to resist sleep's great temptation, she only hummed and placed her head back in its place. Thump, thump, thump, and she was asleep.

Lenora was woken by a thunderstrike. It crashed with a piecing 'bang!' and left her jerking awake.

The sound of pouring rain upon cobblestone roofs and glass windows surrounded her on all sides. Bright shots of lightning peeked in from the window in their chambers, followed by more thunderstrikes. Lenora flinched harshly, each strike sending a spike of fear into her heart.

She had rainstorms, of course. But none as ferocious as this one. Never such loud, nauseating thunder and bright lightning in her homeland. Duststorms were common back in her childhood homeland, something she could handle easily. This was a complete turn from that.

When another strike hit, sounding ever more close to Winterfell's keep, she clutched onto whatever her hand was rested on. Coincidentally, it was Cregan's forearm. He stirred then, lifting a hand to his eyes to rub at them tiredly. "What's wrong, my girl?" He murmured.

How had he slept through the noise? Was he so unconcerned with a flood happening, or the roof collapsing under the weight of so much water. Or fire, struck on the Wolfswood trees by stray thunder?

"The storm." She hissed worriedly. He sat up, moving his hand on top of hers and rubbing atop her knuckles soothingly.

"What of it?"

"I've never seen one so strong. Will the Keep not flood, or the woods catch fire? We should prepare—"

A deep chuckle came from beside her. At Lenora's confused and panicked look, Cregan shook his head and cleared his throat.

"'Tis Summer, wife. Monsoon season is upon us for some weeks, it happens every year. We are well prepared for anything that happens. Our roofs are slanted for rain to slide right down, our food is stored in sealed silos, and fires stand no chance of spreading with such heavy rain."

Lenora's heart slowed slightly, calmed at the thought of Winterfell being safeguarded by its years of tradition and preparation. Though, she was not completely calmed by his words alone. The pelting of drops hitting the roof and window still made her veins feel ice-cold, even with the hearth still running strong in their chambers.

Cregan reached out to grasp her face gently in his hands. "It will be like this for only a short time. We are safe in here, I promise you."

She nodded, clutching onto his large hand with one of her own as she leaned into his warm embrace. There, he held her firmly to his chest as he stroked her hair. Kissing the crown of her head, he spoke. "Shall I fetch more pelts? You are shivering, my heart."

Lenora shook her head, not wishing to part from his arms. "Just stay here with me, please."

"Of course." He obliged, succumbing to her whims as easily as the wind blew seeds from a dandelion. His wife came before all else, after all.

Slowly, he layed them both back down on the bed. Covering them up snug under the thick pelts of fur, Cregan rested his wife's head to his chest, covering her exposed ear with a cupped hand.

Wordlessly, he soothed her without needing to be asked. Never annoyed at her soft demeaner, he delighted in taking care of his beloved wife.

Comforted by his steady heartbeat instead of the thundering rain outside of the Keep, Lenora found herself drifting back into the welcoming and warm arms of sleep. Cregan stayed up all the while, ensuring his wife could not be disturbed again that night. He kept a hand held over her ear, adjusting to fit around her whenever she shifted in her sleep. His over arm lie firmly over her waist, rubbing circles at the small of her back distractingly.

Lenora did not wake again that night, oblivious to the raging storm outside. Every night after that, during the season of monsoons in Winterfell, Cregan was exceptionally careful that she rested throughout the night and was never scared again by the storms.

[chiscaralight]

Can u do mean dom xiao x reader? Any gender is fine. I always see him as a soft dom there hasn’t been a mean dom xiao post since like 2021 😩

nsfw xiao x reader idk if i can write mean dom anyone, I tried my best... don't hate me anons

Regardless of the situation, xiao doesn't talk too much. Because of that, you tend to act out a lot. he's not going to say anything anyway, so why not tease him just a bit?

bad idea on your part, because he'll always get back at you. he might tease you back in the privacy of your own, or he just might deny your orgasm for so long that you can't even remember your own name. even if you whine out how sorry you are from the moment you step into the bedroom, he’s not shaken.

“maybe you should’ve thought of that before you started playing in my face. don’t stop until i tell you to.”

and honestly, you want to do this. to prove to him that he doesn't have as much power over you as he thinks. so you sink down onto his length, fingers holding tight onto his shoulders as you start to bounce. it’s not long before you start crying though, legs shaking and so out of breath as you use the last of your power to tell him you cant go on anymore.

so he rolls his eyes, mumbling something about how weak you are. it hasn’t even been that long! he’d think you’d do better than that. whatever, anyways, because his hand is heavy as he pushes your face into the bed, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he starts to pound into you stupidly hard. you’re gasping and whining at each thrust, every hit having you feeling more sensitive than the last. and your mumbles start to get more drawn out, proclamations of your impending orgasm spilling into the sheets of the bed. he’s fistinf your hair to pull your head up, and the only words that leave him are breaking your heart.

“don’t you dare.”

and you’re whining in protest, overstimulated and in dire need of release. you don’t even know when you come! vision blacking out and body twitching as his hips still. you realize your mistake though when you find yourself on tour back, his strong gaze connecting with your full of fear one as he pins your wrists down to the bed. all he gave you was one instruction, and you can’t even obey that. you want to cum so bad? he’ll make sure you do, as many times as he wants. you won’t even remember his name by the time he’s done with you.

[tmpestuous]

Moth to a Flame - 7

series masterlist

summary: Bucky Barnes was the love of your life, and you were his. There was no denying it. But after two years of dating, you found yourselves on different paths and decided it was best to go your separate ways. The only problem was how drawn you’d always be to him even after moving on.

pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

warnings: blackmail, angst, toxic relationships, arguments, cheating/infidelity (all over the place..)

word count: 6.5k

a/n: this is a long one… a few time jumps but the next 3 chapters will be a lot closer in timeline. enjoy!

—

Sleep struggled to reach Bucky in the past week; he found himself tossing, turning, and ultimately resolving to staring up at the ceiling until his brain decided to turn off and let his eyes shut. His anxiety had been through the roof, and though it was not a new feeling for him, it felt a lot worse with you at the forefront of his worries.

Natasha and Bucky were the only ones who decided it was worthwhile trying to make amends with you. Well, and Pietro. But their plan to talk to him fell short every time Wanda placed a barrier between her brother and her two friends with the most intense glares.

“He’s not up for talking.”

“Wanda, please,” Natasha pleaded. “You can’t seriously believe that Y/n would be capable of doing something this outrageous.”

“I don’t,” Wanda retorted. “But what else am I supposed to believe? Regardless of if she wanted to keep it a secret or not, she decided to do the former. She didn’t tell anyone. We could have prevented this.”

“But shouldn’t that tell you she’s in this situation a lot deeper than she wants to be?” Bucky questioned.

“It tells me that she still felt the need to protect herself over all of us.”

Bucky sighed to himself at the memory, rubbing his face as he prepared to face the day with yet another 3 hours maximum of rest. Not even a cold shower could wake him up enough, the resolve of shutting his eyes while leaning his head against the shower wall tiles cut short by Steve’s knocking on the door.

Alerting his best friend that he’d be out of the bathroom soon, he shut the water off and quickly made his way back to his room after wrapping his towel around his waist. Thankfully, Bucky knew Natasha would be brewing coffee in the kitchen as the redhead succumbed to a similar path as him. 

After getting dressed, he walked out, seeing the steam of the coffee come from his mug on the kitchen counter, Natasha already sipping on hers.

“Have you checked your email yet?” She asked as Bucky blew into the mug.

“No, why?” 

“Bucky, the Stark Internship acceptances went out yesterday and you’ve been holding all of us in suspense.”

“Shit,” Bucky said after a sip before setting his mug back down and pulling out his phone, quickly opening his email.

Natasha watched as Bucky scanned his phone, his face looking more disappointed than relieved.

“Well?”

“I- um,” Bucky stammered, shaking his head before putting his phone away. “I didn’t get it.”

“Bucky–”

“It’s okay, Nat,” he cut her off. “I did get that job with Y/n. I guess I’ll just take that one.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Steve interjected as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing his own coffee mug that Natasha had left him. “Wanda isn’t gonna be happy.”

“I need a job, Steve. That’s it.”

As much as Bucky wanted to get close to you again and keep an eye on you, he had worked so hard for the Stark Internship. Part of him hated that he had to go work for you instead, especially since it also added to your uncomfortable situation with your boyfriend. It was a lose-lose for the both of you, but he needed an internship. He didn’t want to beg his dad to bend some rules and give him a spot in the family business. This was his only option.

But Steve was right. Wanda wasn’t happy. The group had met up for lunch later that week when she found out and Bucky heard every inch of it. About the lies, the betrayal, about how she can’t imagine even looking you in the face again. Luckily for Bucky, he had to head out for his first day anyway, and ended up leaving during her lecture. 

Bucky could tell from Pietro’s face that he didn’t agree with his sister, but Bucky also hadn’t had the chance to have a conversation with him about you. It was no use asking him there. Natasha had texted him all about her calling Wanda out for being insensitive about the situation, though Bucky didn’t have the energy to reply before walking in to see you.

It had been a week and a half since the incident, and his nerves were eating him alive. Half of him felt the way Wanda did — confused, hurt. He agreed that he would have believed you’d set your pride aside for your friends. But the other half of him knew you wouldn’t just betray everyone like that. After your conversation outside of the hospital—the tremor in your voice, the fear in your eyes behind all of the tears.

“Because it would only make things worse for him. For me. For you.” 

God, he wished you had just told him everything. You immediately shut him down upon his question on what Atlas was holding over you. He knew you.

After calming his racing heart, Bucky got out of his parked car and walked towards the entrance of the building he was told to meet you at. The receptionist was nice enough to let him in even though he was half an hour early, but only because you were already in your office. 

He took a deep breath after making it to your closed door. His closed fist ghosted the air, waiting for the knuckles to press on the frosted window of the door, but his gaze was set on the shadow moving behind it that hadn’t even noticed his presence. Bucky knocked ever-so-lightly, not wanting to test how impossibly expensive the glass was, and the shadow behind the door froze before making its way towards the door. 

Once the door was opened, Bucky was greeted with your gaze, a slightly confused look on your face before you looked over at the clock on the wall.

“You know you’re early, right?” You asked as you turned your attention back to him, but Bucky couldn’t stop looking at you like he couldn’t believe you existed. He hadn’t forgotten anything about you but he had never spent so much time without seeing you, whether in front of his face or across the room. “Bucky…?”

“Sorry,” he said as he pulled himself out of his thoughts, though still staring at you. “Yeah, I know I’m early but I’ve had a really rough morning—well, week— and just kind of really need to dive into some work to distract myself so I thought maybe I’d make a good impression of being overly punctual so you’d let me in.”

Bucky wasn’t usually a rambler. He was a one-liner kind of person, never having too much to say out of fear of saying more than he needed to. You could tell he was anxious, so you nodded and stepped aside to let him in the lab.

It was bigger than what Bucky imagined—open space save for a few tables and some computers atop them. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows and your desk planted in front of one, papers scattered all over.

“I hadn’t really gotten started on anything yet,” you broke the silence. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you to take the offer at all if I’m being honest. I told them to keep you as a last resort since I knew how much you wanted the Stark Internship and that you’d probably take that.”

“I didn’t get it,” Bucky said as he faced you, his back previously to you while he took everything in. Your face was now riddled with more confusion than when you saw him outside your door. 

“What do you mean you didn’t get it? You were a lock for it, Tony even talked you up to his dad.” Bucky shrugged, looking away from your gaze on him. He honestly didn’t want to talk about the dark cloud that had been looming over him since he read the rejection email. Part of him wanted to reach out to Tony and ask what went wrong, but he had felt so defeated lately with everything going on that he didn’t even bother. “Are you okay?”

Pulled from his thoughts for the second time today, he looked at you again and nodded. “I will be.”

You nodded once in return. “Guess we should get started then.”

Bucky was grateful you weren’t being distant with him, but rather the contrary. After you explained all the research directions to him, detailing every instruction on how to collect, analyze, and sort all of the data coming in, everything seemed normal. Your banter was normal, you offered small talk here and there. It was like Bucky finally had his best friend back. 

He hadn’t realized how long it’s been since the two of you had a normal conversation that wasn’t teetering on the feeling of walking on eggshells. He knew he shouldn’t get comfortable given the current circumstances, and was further reminded of that when you spoke up again after a decent pause in your conversation. 

“How is everyone?” 

Bucky looked up from the binder that had his attention to see you hadn’t looked up from your computer screen, probably out of anxiety.

“They’re alright, just… navigating things, I guess,” Bucky answered sincerely. “We all haven’t really talked much about anything, honestly.”

You nodded without saying anything else.

The last thing Bucky wanted to do was to tell you how Wanda’s feeling about him working with you, or about how Natasha and Steve have been more distant with each other than usual given their disagreement on the situation, or how Sam barely likes to be in the room after he hears your name. Everyone in the group was on edge, and unfortunately, it had to do with you. But he wasn’t going to let you beat yourself up over it. It was the last thing you needed. 

You had removed yourself from the group without a word. You packed all of your things when Wanda and Natasha weren’t in the suite, taking everything to what Bucky now knows was your new apartment. It wasn’t cheap by any means, but your parents did agree it was better than paying thousands of dollars for a shared dorm. 

Bucky could tell you were at least content that you weren’t forced to stay with Atlas, whether at his stupid frat house or his own dorm. You never enjoyed it even when you were on good terms with him, so Bucky could only imagine the disdain you held for it now. 

The rest of the day went smoothly, and so did all of the following days Bucky worked with you. He felt back in his element, even though he only got to spend time with you for a few hours in a day. But they were the best hours of each of his days; he cherished them a lot more than he anticipated. Bucky was also grateful he could at least give Natasha updates on how you were doing, given how open you’d been about everything and your halted communication with everyone else. 

Not only were you doing great work with your research, but you were slowly getting your relationship with Bucky back. Having those moments to catch up kept you both so sane.

For instance, on the week of Halloween, you both were talking about costumes and plans, as this was your final Halloween in college.

“I didn’t change my plan for my costume, though,” you said as you highlighted a completed task in your planner. “With everything going on, I didn’t have the time to think of anything else but it’s not like Catwoman was a bad idea to begin with.”

“I guess we’ll still be matching then,” Bucky responded with a chuckle as you looked at him with a surprised face.

“Batman and Catwoman come out on top,” you grinned. “Are you guys even going out this year?”

“Same old party at the sorority house on Kirkland,” Bucky leaned back in his chair. “You going?”

You nodded. “Guess I’ll see you there, Batman.”

And you did. Bucky honestly had to control himself as the sight of you in the hottest Catwoman costume he’d ever seen in his life. Atlas was there, much to Bucky’s dismay, but it didn’t stop him from grinning at you from across the room when the guy wasn’t looking and Sharon wasn’t paying attention. It was a grin you also had no problem in returning before looking away with a face that let Bucky know you were definitely blushing underneath that mask. 

He liked that he still had that effect on you.

More weeks went by and before everyone could process it, it was the week before Thanksgiving. Bucky knew the holidays always made you excited, but your joy was nowhere to be found this go around.

Bucky obviously knew why, with the Friendsgiving tradition you all had coming up, without your attendance. It was bugging him all day to the point that he didn’t even want to go, but he’d never hear the end of it if he bailed. 

3 days before the dinner, Bucky promised Natasha he’d pick up all of the cooking tools and ingredients to take to his place where it’d be happening. He knew she’d only asked him given she and Steve weren’t currently on the best of terms. Bucky usually hated being put in the middle of things, but he let it be for the sake of everything else currently happening in his life.

Bucky and Natasha had also built a much stronger bond in a few weeks than they’d ever had in years of knowing each other, so he tried to see it more as a favor to her instead of her avoidance of Steve.

Natasha wasn’t in her suite, but she let Bucky know the door was open so he wouldn’t have to knock. As soon as he entered, he saw Pietro sitting at the dining table, typing away on his laptop before looking up at him.

“Just the person I wanted to see.”

Bucky chuckled, “Are we gonna talk or is your sister going to banish me again?”

“She’s not here, but she’ll be back soon. What are you doing here anyway?” Pietro lowered his computer screen.

“Picking up some things for Nat then headed to the lab,” Bucky sat across from Pietro. “But I’m in no rush, so tell me everything.”

For the sake of time before Wanda made her way back to her dorm, Pietro kept everything concise. He didn’t hold back, though, telling Bucky about the tape, about him being dragged from the internship fair and his dorm the following night, about you keeping everything to yourself out of fear of putting everyone’s lives in danger. He also mentioned Atlas threatening you with hurting Bucky if you got close to him again, making Bucky realize what you were talking about outside of the hospital.

“There has to be something we can do,” Bucky asserted, his chest aching as the realization sunk about how much you’d been suffering.

“Not yet,” Pietro lifted his computer screen again. “But I have already thought out a plan. It is not going to be easy for you or me at all, but it is the only way.”

Understanding what Pietro meant, Bucky nodded. “I’ll do anything for her, Piet.”

“I know. She won’t like it, but we have no other options. But you absolutely cannot tell her, Barnes.”

Bucky sighed and nodded. Ever since he started working for you, with you, you two were closer than ever. You cracked jokes together, you ate lunch together. You confided in each other about your days, your current stressors. You were best friends again. As much as Bucky wanted to know you weren’t alone, he knew Pietro was right.

Almost as if on cue, Wanda walked through the front door, Natasha right behind her.

“I smell trouble in here,” Wanda spoke up as she set grocery bags down on the kitchen counter. 

“No trouble,” Bucky shook his head and stood up from his seat.. “Was just keeping Pietro company ‘til you came back. I’m gonna take all the things for tomorrow and head out now.”

Natasha eyed Bucky before he whispered to her, ‘I’ll text you’. She nodded in response before helping him grab everything and walking him out to where he was parked outside. Bucky assured her once more that everything would make sense very soon before getting in his car. 

The entire drive to his apartment, the time he spent dropping off the ingredients, then the drive to the research building — he couldn’t take his mind off of you. Bucky, of course, was somewhat relieved that he wasn’t projecting his thoughts about Atlas onto you; but he felt sick to his stomach knowing that you had been suffering for these past few weeks, that you trusted Pietro and not him to know your secret, that you would throw your freedom away to protect him.

Yes, you were protecting yourself as well. You were keeping your job, the work you’d spent so much time and effort on for so long. You weren’t uprooting your research. But there were ways for you to get out of this. He could have helped you, he could have saved you.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to look you in the face and tell you he knew everything. That he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe. But Pietro made it very clear he couldn’t tell you, and he couldn’t go back on his word. Not when it would ruin everything.

So as he sat in his car, mulling over how he was going to play pretend in front of you, Bucky devised a plan of his own. He just needed to get through the next few days.

Once he was calm, Bucky walked into the building, smiling at the receptionist who had told him you had just come in a few minutes ago. With a small ‘thank-you’, he walked to the elevator and headed upstairs.

Once he reached the sixth floor to make his way to the office, Bucky saw the last person he wanted or expected to see.

“Bucky Barnes,” Atlas said with a smug grin. “Been a bit since I’ve seen you, how’s your friend holding up?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I have work to get to. See ya around.”

As he walked past the blonde, Bucky shook his head. He could do so much to him. He could beat the smug look off his face and the ego out of his personality. He could ruin his life. But he wouldn’t.

“You know, the Stark Internship is amazing.”

Stopping in his tracks, Bucky looked at Atlas from his peripheral vision. “What?”

“The Stark Internship that you applied for. I’ve only been there about three weeks after someone dropped out, but it is the best professional experience I’ve had,” Atlas chuckled. “I’m honestly surprised she didn’t tell you. Quite a shame you’re missing out, but I can’t say I’d be thrilled working with you.”

And then he was gone. While Bucky was left shell-shocked in the hallway, left to face you. 

Walking into the office, you looked up from your desk, your eyes softening from a more irritated look once you’d realized it was Bucky in the room.

“Bucky, hey,” you said with a half-smile. “You came just in time, I have something to tell you.”

“I saw Atlas outside.”

Making your way in front of your desk which you were standing behind, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I figured, considering he just left. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually.”

“So you did know,” Bucky said softly, the familiar ache in his chest from earlier making a reappearance.

“Knew what?”

“That your boyfriend got the Stark Internship I wanted.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was going to tell you—”

“Just because I saw him outside and you knew he’d rub it in my face? Would you have told me if I didn’t see him or would you have kept that from me too?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stared at Bucky in disbelief before letting a scoff out, tears welling up in your eyes immediately.

“Wow.”

“Y/n–”

“I don’t know why I would ever believe that we moved past everything,” you shook your head, going back to your desk. “I found out that Atlas has been working at Stark today. That’s what I was going to tell you as soon as I saw you walk in the door. I didn’t know he was working there or I would’ve told you from the first second he stepped through Stark’s doors, Bucky. And I can’t believe you would stand there and think that I’d do otherwise when we’ve been so… normal.”

Bucky exhaled a deep breath before rubbing a hand over his face, his gaze then fixated on his shoes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he looked up at you as you were trying not to cry, making his way over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders as you avoided his stare. “I’ve had… a day, filled with information that has been tearing my brain apart but that is no excuse for accusing you of lying to me. I’m sorry, dragă.”

Sniffling, you looked up at him with a soft smile. “It’s okay. Maybe we should get to work, okay?”

Bucky was surprised you even forgave him, watching as you walked back to your desk and sifted through some papers. 

But he didn’t press on the issue. Not even the next day. Or two days after. 

It was the morning of the friendsgiving dinner that Bucky had been more than dreading the whole week. Sharon was talking his ear off about outfit choices as he got ready for the day, having to work then rush back to his place and help prepare for the god forsaken dinner. 

But all he could think about was you and the distance you held between you and him for the past four days.

He couldn’t blame you at all. He overstepped, he lashed out and he couldn’t be upset if you didn’t trust him anymore. After weeks of blind confidence in him, he brought you back to square one. Alone. 

“Bucky, are you even listening to me?” Sharon said with blatant irritation, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry,” he said before pulling a sweater on. “I have to head out.”

“Seriously?”

“I have work and then the dinner with everyone and I’m just— I’m sorry, Sharon. I’m stressed. You can stay here and get ready, wear the blue dress.”

Before she could respond, Bucky was rushing out of the door, ignoring everyone swamping his apartment after finishing their responsibilities for the day. 

Anxiety had a way of rearing its head for Bucky at the most inconvenient moments, but this, by far, was one of the worst cases. He was counting his lucky graces that he made it to work in one piece, though his anxiety would only get worse the second he had to work alongside you while you were upset with him.

He caught a bit of a break when the building’s receptionist told him you were running late, though it was so uncharacteristic of you to be late to anything. 

Maybe traffic was shitty. Your route from your new place was different from his. 

Even then, you were always early. Usually an hour or two before your clock-in time. Taking a leap, Bucky texted you.

Bucky: Everything okay? Monica told me you were running a bit late.

No response. Bucky rubbed his eyes, knowing he really didn’t need something to add to his list of anxiety triggers at the moment. Deciding it was best to throw himself into work as a distraction, Bucky kept himself busy for an hour.

He’d worked with you long enough that he knew how you ordered all of your research virtually. Color-coding, organizing all of your results by order of the universities they were coming from, ranking the results in order of responses by question.

This research was huge, a study done through an intense survey of students from some of the biggest and most prestigious universities in the country. Being backed by a company as big as Oscorp among others had colleges falling at your fingertips for a chance to be included. Beyond just wanting to work with you, he was so immersed in your work. The least he could do was advance it a bit more for you as you were running late. 

So he did. And an hour and 20 minutes after Bucky walked into the office, you were outside of the door cursing to yourself as you rummaged through your bag in search of your key to the office. Bucky walked over and opened it for you, leaving you staring at him with your hand frozen in your bag and tears in your eyes.

“The door was open,” Bucky said softly, taking in your frazzled state. “Are you okay?”

Wiping your eyes and smearing your mascara as you rushed inside the office, “I had this stupid lunch with Atlas and his parents and it was awful and all I wanted was to leave but I sat there like the good girlfriend I’m supposed to be and listened to him goad on and on about everything at Stark Industries and then diminish everything I’m researching like he’s—”

“Hey,” Bucky shut the door and pulled you into a hug. He noticed you stopped yourself, about to spill everything to him but for the sake of keeping his and Pietro’s plans, he just held you. “You’re okay, I promise,” Bucky looked down at you and cupped your face in his hands, wiping away some of your tears with his thumbs as you sniffled. “I know how much you hate being late so I started on some work. I got through analyzing about 80 results when you came in, color-coded and organized them how you like, all by each school.”

New tears made their way onto your face, Bucky immediately worried he hurt you though you assured him otherwise. After a few beats, Bucky was taken by surprise as you quickly leaned up and kissed him, letting both of your mouths move against each other with unspoken adoration and love before you pulled away breathless.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” you said, stepping back out of Bucky’s grasp, his lips a brighter red now and his cheeks flushed as he looked at you. “I know I hate my ‘boyfriend’,” using your fingers to make air quotes, “but you still have a girlfriend. I’m sorry, I let my emotions kind of take over.”

“I kissed you back, you know,” he said without hesitation.

“Bucky, we can’t—”

“Why not?” He asked as he stepped towards you. “I kissed you back. I kissed you back when you kissed me at that party. I kissed you back now.”

“You still have a girlfriend, Bucky. I just got overwhelmed because nobody’s… cared for me, like that in a while. It’s been so long and I kind of forgot how it felt. But I overstepped and I shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t love her,” Bucky admitted. “I have never loved her, I won’t ever love her. Hell, I didn’t even ask her to be my girlfriend.” 

He stepped near you again, back in your personal bubble as he inched his face closer to yours. He caressed your face with one of his hands once more, before leaning down and kissing you again like it replenished the air in his lungs.

Leaning you against the wall, you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck, kissing him back with every ounce of energy you could give as he used his free hand to grip your thigh and wrap your leg around his waist. After a few minutes, you both pulled away, catching your breaths as you stared at each other with longing eyes.

“I don’t think you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that again,” Bucky said as you giggled a bit. “I’d continue but it’s probably not best to christen our place of employment that way.”

“Shut up,” you said playfully, pushing him back softly, keeping your hands on his chest. “I still kind of feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Bucky shook his head, placing his hands on your waist. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, not fully convinced. “I know how long it took for you to move on and I’d hate to ruin that.”

“I promise. I’ve been racking my brain on how to end things with her anyway,” Bucky reassured as he rubbed your waist softly. You nodded without a word, running a hand through his hair, your attention suddenly elsewhere. “Where’d you go, prinţesă?”

“The dinner’s today,” you said softly, still not looking at Bucky. He could hear the melancholy in your tone. “Are you going?”

“Nat might kill me if I don’t,” Bucky joked, which made you smile a bit. “Why do you ask?”

“I wish I could be there.”

Bucky pulled you back against him, kissing your forehead. “Me too.” 

After you and Bucky decided it was best to get back to work, the rest of the day moved swiftly; you and Bucky were back to your normal dynamic once again, though clearly slightly different. 

Bucky was anticipating going through a myriad of situations before he could truly savor your lips on his again. When you kissed him all those weeks ago at that party, it was more solemn—an apology for what was about to come. Though your kiss came out of whatever impulse you had, Bucky had been feeling all those urges too. 

He wasn’t the cheater type at all and, honestly, the thought of it did make him feel like shit. But he didn’t want you to blame yourself for his actions. He wasn’t lying when he said he was trying to break up with her, but something about ending things right before the holidays also made him feel shitty.

As the day moved on, Bucky’s anxiety creeped up on him again. The looming dread of walking into his apartment and having to sit at this dinner pretending like nothing was wrong wasn’t going away anytime soon. Bucky could tell you sensed he was off with the way you were staring at him as he put his jacket on.

“Everything okay?” 

He looked at you and shrugged. “In theory.”

“The dinner will be fine, Buck,” you offered him a smile, somehow knowing how to read his mind as always. 

He felt bad leaving you here at work to attend the dinner you were always excited about. He insisted on grabbing something together, so you at least had enjoyed food with him. However, you warned him of the wrath of the Russian redhead if he showed up to dinner on a full stomach. He couldn’t help but chuckle because he knew you were right. 

You gave him a tight, warm hug before he left. He knew you needed it, even more than he did. He wanted to tell you then and there that he was going to help you, that he’d get you out of the situation you were trapped in. He debated so hard internally, but, once again, he told himself he had to keep his word. 

Once he left the office and made it back to his apartment, Bucky took another moment of silence in his car after parking in his assigned space. A calm before the storm, he convinced himself. After taking a few deep breaths, he got out of the car, locked it, and walked to the entrance. He did his best to quiet his mind as the elevator made it to his floor, as he twisted his keys in the locks, and entered his buzzing apartment.

“It’s about time!” Sam exclaimed from the couch, seated with Steve, Thor, and Pietro in the living room. “We were about to play poker without you.”

“You can go on ahead, I gotta shower,” Bucky said as he shrugged his jacket off. “But when I get back, you’re all getting your asses kicked.”

Smirking at his friends’ complaints as he walked down the hallway, Bucky made his way into his room, seeing Sharon still getting ready.

“Hi,” she said monotonously, sighing when Bucky responded with a ‘hey’ in the same tone. “How was work?”

“Fine,” Bucky responded shortly again, putting his shoes in the closet and grabbing his towel for a shower. As he headed out the door, Sharon stopped him with a question.

“Are you upset with me or something?” Her tone was clearly one of frustration, which Bucky wasn’t in the mood for. “You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“I’ve had quite a shitty week,” Bucky admitted, knowing it wasn’t too far from the truth. “I just need this dinner to be over with and some time to decompress before we have a talk.”

“A talk? About what?”

“Us,” was all Bucky said before heading to the bathroom. 

He made sure to take an extra long shower, needing a moment to relax before the thing he was dreading all day. He noted Sharon wasn’t in his room when he came out of the bathroom, and he was kind of grateful for it. 

Once he was dressed, Bucky checked his phone as it buzzed, seeing a text from you.

Y/n: hope the dinner goes okay. Still wishing I was there ):

Bucky: Me too. I promise everything will be okay soon.

Y/n: I hope so. 

Y/n: can’t quite stop thinking about earlier.

Bucky knew what you meant, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it either. It was the only thing on his mind, the taste of having you back was consuming his entire being. 

He had to tell Pietro the plan needed to start. Soon.

Bucky: Me neither. You still at the office?

Y/n: might sleep here if I’m being honest

Bucky: I’ll stop by later tonight.

Y/n: no christening the office

Bucky chuckled at his phone.

Bucky: No promises. See you later.

After putting his phone to charge, Bucky stepped out to the living room. The boys were all outside on the balcony, while Wanda and Nat were in the kitchen. He didn’t see Sharon at first but then she stepped out of the half-bathroom and turned her gaze away from Bucky immediately.

“Bucky, would you mind setting the table? Ask Pietro to help you.” Wanda asked from the opening in the wall to see through to the kitchen.

“Yeah, no problem,” Bucky said as he turned towards the dining area after grabbing the plates, seeing Pietro walk in, assuring Bucky that he had already heard his sister. “I guess twin telepathy is a thing.”

Pietro chuckled. “How is she?”

Bucky waited for Pietro to place the table mat in front of a seat before placing a plate. “She’s alright, but I can tell she’s hurting.”

“I was thinking that we should get a start on the plan soon,” Pietro spoke quietly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “I would hate for this to drag into the new year.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Bucky grabbed the utensils once all of the plates were set, passing half to Pietro. “This weekend?”

“That would be optimal. There is a party at their house on Saturday.”

“How do I get their attention in just two days?”

“You will,” Pietro reassured. “Trust me. After tonight.”

Deciding not to pry further, Bucky thanked his instincts as Natasha and Wanda walked into the dining room with the food. Bucky and Pietro helped free their hands and placed everything on the table, the girls calling out to everyone else.

Bucky could sense Sharon’s tension as she sat next to him, but he opted to do his best to ignore her. He needed to break things off sooner than later.

Once everyone dived into their food and made conversation, Bucky didn’t say much. He hadn’t even realized how empty his stomach was until he started devouring his plate.

“Slow down, Barnes,” Sam joked from across the table. “I know you hate talking but you still gotta chew before you swallow.”

Bucky shot him a glare before resuming his task at hand.

“I think he isn’t talking for other reasons,” Sharon spoke up, surprising everyone at the table, especially Bucky who now stared at her incredulously. “What? You clearly invited me here as a placemat for your missing traitor.”

“Excuse me?” Natasha said before Bucky could retaliate.

“I don’t know why I’m here when Bucky so obviously wishes Y/n was here instead. That’s why you’re cheating on me with her, right? That’s what your silly little job is? Become her lapdog again?”

Bucky chuckled. “You should stop talking.”

“Why?”

“You should stop talking,” Pietro interjected, Wanda silently urging him not to get involved. “Since we are bringing up accusations, why don’t we speak about you cheating on Bucky?”

If Bucky could get whiplash from how fast he turned his head towards Pietro, he would have. “What are you talking about?”

“I have been holding my tongue for a while,” Pietro started. “But I do not think I can sit by and watch you stay with this woman as she is involved with the man ruining the life of the woman you love.”

Bucky was very much confused 30 seconds ago, but he was even more confused now.

“Pietro, I don’t know what you saw—”

“But you do know what I saw, Sharon,” Pietro interrupted. “You and Atlas outside of the fair, kissing. Plotting against Bucky and Y/n. He and his friends took me forcefully while you warmed up to Bucky like nothing happened. Like you didn’t know why I was injured that night. Like Y/n was the traitor when you have been the parasite this entire time.”

“Pietro, why would you not tell us this?” Wanda asked, in as much disbelief as everyone else at the table. 

Pietro stared at Bucky, though Bucky was racking his brain trying to process what the fuck he just heard.

“Y/n is being blackmailed by her boyfriend. I couldn’t admit anything without jeopardizing her safety. But I’m sure it will be jeopardized now,” Pietro threw a smug look Sharon’s way before calmly turning back to his food.

“Bucky—”

“Get out.” 

Sharon pleaded with him, but Bucky cut her off once more.

“Get the fuck out before I throw you out of here.”

With tears in her eyes, Sharon rushed out of the apartment, Bucky standing up to lock the door behind her before walking back into the dining room.

It was so silent, Bucky once again became self aware of his racing thoughts, needing to break the ice—a rarity for him.

“Is there anything someone wants to say?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, rubbing Nat’s shoulder while she was trying to process everything and staring at his best friend. “How do we kill this asshole?”

[phenomenalgirl9]

Boyfriend: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

The more I get to know you, Can't tell the feelings I feel, Sometimes it doesn't feel so right.

----------------------------------------------------

“Air time in 5 mins” Pd-nim called out and you made sure all the cameras were in place in the monitor and showed a Thumbs up.

“Rolling” you said. “Enter TxT in 3… 2… 1” and as soon as you said the lights revolved and the 5 cheerful boys entered the studio.

“Welcome to our new Episode of Flower Village” Pd-nim said and they cheered and introduced themselves. A pair of Fox-like sharp brown eyes found yours from the other side of the camera and a smile came to your lips. As Pd-nim queued you to start the interview.

The interview went on “…That’s a cute concept. I wonder where Yeonjun-ssi finds his inspiration from?” you read from your script. You tried your best to not get distracted by his eyes and followed it peril-lessly.

He smiled, almost a flirty smirk, at the camera but if you didn’t know you’d think his smirk was directed towards you. “I draw experiences from the world, around me dramas and stories, people even” he said and as if on you noticed Taehyun and Beomgyu smile towards you and mumbling something to each other and chuckling. A blush rushed onto your cheek and you didn’t look up for the rest of the interview, not like anyone would care who’s behind the camera anyway.

“Pd-nim, Y/n Pd-nim” You heard your name being called and you turned around to find Yeonjun rushing towards you. This man will be the death of you, you thought. “Hello Yeonjun-ssi” you greeted bowing a little (To maintain etiquette mostly). “How have you been? You look tired” he stated, more that asking “I should be asking you that, You’re the one having a comeback and a tour followed by it” you said. “Do I look tired?” he said his eyes mischievous, feigning surprise as he touched his cheek and fake-frowned. “I made sure to complete my beauty sleep, for today” he added. Your mind raced at the way he emphasised on today, did he mean what you were thinking, hoping he means?

“Ah, No no that’s not how I meant it” you said and were about to explain further but your boss called you, saving you from further embarrassment and excused yourself.

----------------------------------------------------

You were almost done with work and were about to leave when your coworker from the editing desk called you.

“Do you think I should use this feed or this?” he asked and you helped him out. “Damn that look surely wasn’t for the camera” he mumbled “you were taking the interview, right?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. “It was for the camera, why else?” you said and were about to leave when you heard him say. “Yeah, lie to yourself”

----------------------------------------------------

It was another exciting day as your team was appointed to conducted the next Run Jin. Having worked with BTS many times before you were excited to meet Jin again after a long time.

“Y/n-ah” Jin cheered and shook hands with you “Look at you, you’re a Pd now. Wah” he added. You smiled at how he’s still so enthusiastic like old days. The whole day was fun.

“Yeonjun is literally fishing aspects to approach you. Why don’t you put the boy out of his misery?” the old man said. “what do you mean Pd-nim” you said averting your eyes towards Yeonjun who was already looking at you and smiled. “I’m old” You stopped the urge to say I know “I can read the way a person looks at someone and I think I see it clear in both your eyes” he noted with a smile on his lips. “Don’t be worry about other things so much, live in the moment” he added and winked and left.

----------------------------------------------------

On the other side of the room Jin to Yeonjun-

“How many years are you gonna waste just looking at her?”

“Huh?” Yeonjun looked at Jin, confused. “We can all see the way you look at her and she at you” he said. “I’ve looked at her since the day I first saw her, have looked at her all this time yet I think somethings stopping her, Duty? Public Opinion? She almost knocked out a light and was about to fall when luckily, I held her hand and stopped the accident-”

“And saved the day” you said having heard enough “It was a harrowing day, probably one of my first shoots” I chuckled and as if on queue Jin left. Not before winking and pointing at the two of you. “I was very nervous that day” Yeonjun said, “I felt relieved seeing you”  

“Seeing me knock down the lights?” you joked. “No, to know I wasn’t the only one. And that’s only grown” He added.

“Into?” You asked looking into his Sharp brown eyes. “Something I’d like to see more of” he said and smiled.

“Coffee?” you asked.

“That could be a nice start” he said and smiled.

----------------------------------------------------

So, why you looking at me like I'm your Boyfriend, boyfriend

Masterlist

[indig0trolls]

TINY BUSTS - ALT KIDS PT. 1

Decided to post them separately after all since I dont see getting the rest done til the wee hours and i need to focus on other things tomorrow.

34$ Each! [ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR]

Please try to limit yourself to one to make it fair to others, and if you buy from this half, do not buy from the second half when it goes up until its been up for at least 24 hours.

Tos under cut, please be sure to read it!

TERMS OF SERVICE

You MAY change the design/species of any design i've made after youve bought it, but you must leave credit with INDIG0TEA for the design, and the design itself must be recognizable.

Gender/sex/etc is ultimately up to the buyer.

You may NOT resell the design for more than you paid for it, unless it comes with extra art either made by you (listed for your current or historical commission rates), or commissioned by you. Gift art/free art does not count towards the value of any design I make, ever. Additionally: You may not ever ask for, recieve, or offer full resale plus non-currency add ons (such as, but not limited to: art, characters, merchandise, games, game currency, etc.). Yes, even if the offer as couched as "free art/commission/character". Partial resale may be negotiated only for designs whose original buying price was 30 or more dollars USD, and split dollar amount may be for no less than 2/3 of the list price to prevent people trying to workaround this TOS to encourage other people to accept their offers. (For example: Partial resale on a 30$ design may be a maximum of 20$ partial + non-currency add on.) This is to prevent overoffering/artificially inflating resale value. I am willing to make exceptions to this clause, but you will have to speak to me directly to ensure my TOS is being respected.

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You MAY use your design for any other purpose, so long as you are not profiting financially off of my work nor passing it off as your own.

You are allowed to store it in your deviantart sta.sh, post it to tumblr profiles, or upload it to websites like toyhou.se with proper credit. However, you may not reupload to toyhou.se, to keep the ownership log intact, and to keep the original tos consistent.

For my personal comfort, you may not delete original TH listings from toyhou.se and resell it separately. This is again to keep the ownership log intact, and to keep the original tos consistent. If the person you wish to resell it to does not have a toyhou.se, I have plenty of invite codes I can give out as necessary.

You MUST credit to INDIG0TEA the first time you post art of them to websites other than toyhou.se

Violation of many of these terms will result in permanent blacklisting/banning from buying or owning designs by me in the future.

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

The Feral Princess - Part 6

Marvel AU

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Theme: Soulmate AU / Medieval / Fantasy / Soulmate Marks

Summary: Bucky and Steve have known they were soulmates since they were children. Fate bringing a then sickly Steve and the future King together. War takes them apart and throws them back together over and over, in and out of each other lives, arms and beds. But something is missing and throughout, they know they are missing their third and final piece. The kingdom is now Bucky's and Steve's, the latter now a leader and no longer a sickly child. Both are war heroes, with the respect of their country and those that surround it. They are a force to be reconned with, admired and respected within the other royal houses. They could have any maiden or princess they wanted, but they don't want just anyone. They want their soulmate. They want their princess. Even if she is known as The Feral Princess.

Chapter Summary: Bucky contemplates his conversation with Richard.

Chapter Warning: Childhood trauma.

Bucky was still processing Richard’s words as they made camp for the night a few days later. He had set himself apart from the others as they huddled around the fire, as a mist began to gather around the camp. As his mark for you began to feel warm his mind wandered and thoughts of you as a child, scared and helpless ran through his mind.

When Steve had told him and his mother, Winnie, of his father’s abuse, Bucky had to be physically restrained. He had been fourteen at the time, Steve thirteen.

Winnie had sent guards to fetch Steve’s mother Sarah, along with his father. Sarah had been given quarters with a view of the lake and her own maids. His father had never seen the light of day again. It seemed that the other Royal households had rallied to protect you but not until the damage had been done.

Bucky sat in silence as he tried to piece together the timeline of Richard’s words and his own upbringing. The time of your childhoods was full of war and it wasn’t often that Royal households mixed. Too much betrayal and cross words. A common cause of defeating Hydra and Lord Piece, and a few others along the way had kept people connected.

A long awaited peace had come, along with a mutual respect of each other. But you had stayed hidden, although your reputation proceeded you. Plenty of Royal houses near and far had sent suitors your way, as well as the families of good standing. All in a bid to seek an alliance and a connection to the Royal house of Lionheart or one of the most formidable house know, The House of Loxley, along with the others you were connected too.

For those that had managed to pass the gates of Lionheart or through the woods of Loxley, they had been stabbed, shot and poisoned. He also suspected a few may have been dragon food. But you continued to stay hidden. The balls and events you did attend were those of Lionheart, Loxley and occasionally Odinson. You had no connection by blood to the latter and he wonders where the alliance comes from. He is sure that it must be Thor’s mother. Odin and Richard were far too a like with their tempers, so he is sure it Frigga.

A woman gifted in magic, fierce but kind. When Bucky had returned from war missing an arm she had sent baskets of oils and herbs to aid his recovery with clear written instructions to Wanda and how to use them. He expects she’s tried to aid you at some point, maybe even hidden you there in Asgard.

He begins to piece together certain memories from his childhood. Letters coming and going, and his mother’s voice. A memory slips through of his mother smiling at breakfast as she is passed the mornings letters. Bucky remembers her smile as if he still sees it everyday. Even during the many battles and wars, his father away, she gifted him with a smile every morning. But in this memory his mother’s smile is snatched away as she reads one of her many letters, she gasps and places her hand over her mouth as she rises suddenly from her seat.

The voices of her maids and the guard asking if something is wrong echo around the breakfast room.

“Matywka?”

“It’s ok Yasha.” She replies softly, sensing his worry. When she speaks again she is very much the commanding queen she was known to be.

“Prepare a guest room immediately. Make sure it is warm and ready for a little one. A girl of three. A room close to my own.”

A realisation washes over him. Was that girl you? Thinking back he had never known anyone take a guest room near to his mother, even Sarah’s wasn’t that close. So whoever it was was of good standing, important, and in his mother’s eyes, needed to be close by.

His thoughts are stopped by an approaching Natasha.

“What now Natalia?”

“I’m just checking on you Yasha, that is all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Try saying that without gritting your teeth.”

Bucky huffed. An awkward silence sat between them.

“Did you know?” He asked.

“Know what?” Natasha replied.

“Do not make me seem an idiot Natalia!” He snapped. “You know exactly what I am referencing.”

“I do not know the full story. Just whispers of court ladies and knights.”

“But you know her, you’ve met her. You have spent time together so intimately that you have seen her marks. Do not lie to me!”

“She only speaks of her time running in the woods, she mentioned her upbringing was different, that she doesn’t speak to her mother, and Lady Dawn, one of her ladies will tell jokes of her feral behaviour and chasing off the governesses, but nothing more.”

“And what do they say? The whispers?"

“The knights, well they will not have a word said against her. I heard that one of Stark’s men once joked if she took lovers and one of Lionheart’s took his head clean off. They will not have a word said against her, when they say a whole kingdom protects her it is true. And the ladies well, they whisper about a lot of things but the oldest whispers are of how she was found in a field. That she was asked to pick their punishment. He told you didn’t he? Of why they call her Tulip.”

Bucky nodded.

“And that is why you want to speak to Castle?”

Bucky nodded again.

“She chose to let them live Yasha.”

“Well I do not.”

Meanwhile hidden in the mist............

You placed a hand over your mouth to stop a gasp reaching out. John reached out and squeezed your hand.

“He knows Tulip. He knows and he still comes.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“I don’t understand.”

“He knows, your James knows and he still wants you to be his. To be Steven’s too.”

It had been a grand scheme you’d thought. Let Richard tell him of your childhood, the way you are admittedly a little feral and probably not an ideal candidate for a queen and let King James make his choice. He would trot off back to his kingdom and your shared soulmate and leave you alone. But he was here. In the woods. The Loxley woods. A place that people were scared to enter and many never did.

Yet he had still come to the woods to find you. Sure he had walked straight into your trap but he had come. He still wanted you.

But you were of Loxley, not just Lionheart, and well, he’s in your woods, and had even had the nerve to camp in them.

It wouldn’t be right to just let him wander around without a little upset now would it and you certainly weren’t going to go easily.

Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@animegirlgeeky @mrsevans90 @sebastians-love @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

[sequinsmile-x]

A Lot of Lonely Places

She used to be good at being alone. 

-x-

Hi friends,

Truly could not tell you where this came from. Opened my laptop, opened google docs and started writing and here we are.

I hope you enjoy it, and as always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She used to be good at being alone. 

She used to pride herself on it. Full of false bravado about how she excelled in her own company that was borne out of necessity, a side effect of her mother’s job that had left her with no other choice. She was good at being alone and she enjoyed it. She’d painted a lonely picture as a kid, something that had followed her into her teenage years and early adulthood. It was only in college, when she spent four years in one place - the longest she ever had - that she started to make stronger connections. Threads of convenience and coincidence that tied her and her friends together during that time, holding them close until drunken promises before graduation that they’d always have each other turned out to be lies. They’d drifted apart, seeing each other only at reunions and organised events, and she knew she wasn’t blameless. She hadn’t been great at keeping in contact, not entirely used to having people to stay in contact with. It was something that slipped away entirely when she’d joined Interpol, her work not something that allowed the connections she had once treasured. 

Even though she’d barely spent time alone when she was eventually with Ian, something he ensured by always having people around her, she’d felt lonely. At first, it had been drowned by the ever-present fear she’d be caught. That he’d see through her practised lies and kill her before she could call for backup. As that faded, as time made it clear he’d fallen for her charm and the skills she’d honed at a young age, the loneliness took over. The strange desire to hear someone call her by her actual name one that never quite went away. 

Returning to her actual life was overwhelming. She was suddenly surrounded by people who knew who she really was. Every single one of them telling her she’d done an excellent job before it was all classified, anything she’d done a secret to anyone who didn’t already know. It made the loneliness bone-deep, so much a part of her she wasn’t sure she’d ever be without it, but it also made it easier to pretend it never happened. To file it away into one of the boxes in her head, the lid of it liable to slip away whenever she heard an Irish accent or smelt expensive whisky and cigar smoke. 

When she joined the BAU, her sense of self pieced back together after her time as Lauren Reynolds, and a fake background typed out on a piece of paper, she wasn’t sure what she’d find. A small part of her hoped she would make friends, something that felt childish and misplaced after everything she’d seen and done, and even that had been dashed by some of the team's initial reaction to her. The mistrust she’d since learnt was a defence mechanism, particularly on Aaron’s part, more painful than she cared to admit even to herself. 

She never expected that she’d find a family, that she’d find people who felt like home. People she would, and eventually did, die for. It made the loneliness in Paris even sharper. Nights that would have once been spent drinking with JJ and Penelope, or watching kid's movies with Aaron and Jack, long and painful as she lived under a name they did not know. She treated the loneliness like a penance, something she deserved for the lies that had led her there, the choices she could never regret but wished hadn’t happened. She got used to it again. The loneliness. The silence that came with it.  She got used to it but every now and again it would weigh heavily on her chest, crushing it inwards until it became unbearable. Gasping sobs would steal the air from her lungs until she’d eventually cry herself to sleep, ready to be tortured by dreams of everything she had lost. 

When she came home, unsteady and unsure of her place in the life she’d built herself, she was overwhelmed again. Everyone’s desire to see her, to spend time with her they thought they’d never get again, almost too much to take. She’d sought out time on her own, would issue white lies that tasted bitter as she told her friends she was tired or had other plans just so she could sit on her couch alone, the television and radio off, the silence a comforting blanket as she tried to learn to be herself again. 

As time went on, she found her footing. Found her new place in her new life, the broken pieces of her old one at her feet no longer a tripping hazard, but the very thing she used as a foundation for what she had now. 

Loneliness became a thing of her past, something she knew she could thank Aaron, and by extension Jack, for. The day after their conversation on the jet, when she kept her side of the deal and admitted she was having a bad day, Aaron showed up at her apartment. He was casually dressed, or as casual as she’d ever seen him at the time in jeans and a polo shirt, and he said he was there to help her unpack. To this day, she had no idea how he knew she hadn’t unpacked, how he knew that her meagre belongings that hadn’t been sold on after she died were still in boxes. She’d let him in, too tired to argue with him, and she’d let him help without argument - something she now knew was a sign of just how much she trusted him even when she wasn’t sure she could trust herself. He’d turned her mood around that day, had arrived to her on the edge of a panic attack and left her laughing, her smile shining with adoration as he dryly told her about something Dave had done whilst she was away. 

He’d come back the following weekend, with Jack and breakfast from their favourite diner in tow, matching smiles on their faces as they told her they were there to cheer her up, and it had been a tradition ever since. Something that followed her and Aaron from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend and now husband and wife. 

She was never alone now and if she ever was, she was terrible at it. On the rare occasion she was in the house alone she’d struggle. She was used to Aaron’s laugh, or the low timbre of his voice that would travel even through closed doors. She was used to Jack’s excited chatter, or the sound of his video games or cartoons he loved. When it was just her, it was too quiet, something she’d try and counteract by turning on the television or simply calling her husband and asking him when he’d be home. She’d feel nothing short of absurd for it, and she knew a past version of herself would mock her for it, but she loved having him near. Loved the reassurance of his presence, and the only thing that stopped her from chastising herself for it was that she knew Aaron was the same. 

The team made fun of them for it. They’d gently tease them for how they would gravitate towards each other, never able to be too far away as if they felt unsteady if they were. In the same breath as they made fun of them their friends would tell them they were happy for them, that they both deserved what they had now.

___

She sighs contentedly as she wakes up, stretching her limbs as she rolls onto her back, a yawn escaping her as she reaches for her husband's side of the bed. She furrows her brows when she finds it empty, the sheets cold to the touch, and she sits up, her eyes flicking to the also empty bassinet on her side of the bed. A quick glance at the alarm clock, and the lack of daylight streaming in through the curtains, let her know it’s 3.35 am, that she’s likely been pulled from sleep by the cold emptiness of her bed as well as the dull ache starting to build in her breasts. 

Even though she knows that they’re safe, that Aaron will have taken their little girl downstairs to give her some more rare and precious sleep, she’s still met with momentary panic. It greets her like an old friend as it wraps its hand around her throat, stealing the breath from her lungs before she can reason with herself, memories of when she was alone and being hunted by the man who had killed her briefly overwhelming. She shakes her head and blows out a slow breath and she shoves the covers off her as she climbs out of bed. 

“Get it together, Emily,” she mumbles to herself, grabbing Aaron’s robe from the back of the bedroom door as she passes it, wrapping it around herself to warn off the slight chill in the air. 

She checks in on Jack on the way past, takes a moment to rearrange his bedding around him and kisses his forehead before she sneaks back out of his room, not wanting to wake him on a night when he’d somehow slept through his baby sister’s cries. She finds Aaron and the baby exactly where she knew she would, snuggled up on the couch together with only the light of a single lamp in the corner of the room illuminating them. She can’t help but smile as she walks into the living room, her chest aching with love at the sight of her little girl fast asleep on Aaron’s chest, her cheek squashed against his t-shirt and a line of drool visible even in the low light. 

“Can I join this party, or is it invite only?” She asks, careful to stay quiet, to not startle him or wake up their daughter. 

Aaron turns to look at her, his smile soft and sleepy, and he removes one hand from Violet’s back to tap the couch next to him, “You’re always invited,” he replies, just as quietly as he presses a kiss to the dark hair on the newborn’s head, “Right, Vi? Mommy can always join us.” 

Emily crosses the room and sits next to him, immediately snuggling into his side, sneaking under the blanket he had draped over his lap. She rests her head on his shoulder and reaches out to run her knuckles up and down Violet’s soft cheek. “Is she okay? You could have woken me up.” 

“She’s fine,” he says, turning his head to kiss her temple, smiling when she tilts her head to capture it, his lips slightly chapped against hers, “She was fussing, but I think she just wanted to cuddle,” he smiles as he pulls back, “Now I may lack the facilities to feed her, but I’ve got it on good authority I give amazing hugs,” his smile gets wider as she lovingly rolls her eyes, “So I thought I’d let you rest until she did need feeding.” 

Emily hums gratefully, kissing the corner of his mouth before she rests her temple against his cheek, unable to tear her gaze away from the sleeping baby, “Daddy really does give the best hugs, sweet girl,” she says, her words disappearing into a laugh as more drool lands on Aaron’s t-shirt, “Although, I used to be the only girl allowed to drool on him,” she strokes her daughter’s head, following the swirl of dark hair. It was the very first part of her that Emily had touched, encouraged to reach between her legs by her doctor and feel the top of her little girl’s head when labour was starting to feel like it was too much, “I guess I can share him with you though.” 

Aaron chuckles and wraps his arm around her, tugging her closer as he securely holds Violet close with one arm, “Did we wake you?”

Emily shakes her head, “No, I think it was because the bed was empty,” she mumbles, reaching for his hand and unhooking herself from under his arm so she can hug it to her chest, his hand sandwiched between both of hers as she tucks them under her chin, “I’m not good at sleeping alone anymore. You ruined me.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her and smiles, “I’m…sorry,” he says, his tone teasing and she squeezes his hand tighter. 

“As you should be,” she replies dryly, feeling sleepiness take over, the warmth of him and the sound of Violet’s breathing slowly pulling her under, “There’s only one way to make up for it.”

He kisses the top of her head and then hides his smile in her hairline, “Oh yeah, what’s that then?” 

“Sleeping next to me forever.” 

He chuckles “You drive a hard bargain, but I’m sure I can manage that,” he says, and she leans into him, his voice something that calmed her, something that pulled her in, “You should get some sleep, sweetheart.” 

She grumbles, trying to fight him on it even though it was a losing battle, “But you’ll be trapped here with both of us sleeping on you.” 

“There are much worse places to be trapped, Em,” he assures her, his words murmured against her forehead, “And Vi will wake us up soon anyway,” he kisses her forehead, “Get some sleep, and I’ll be here for you both.” 

She hums, no longer able to fight it, exhaustion and the comfort of him washing over her, “Love you.” 

The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is his reply, his I love you too whispered against her skin, and she knows that not only would she never be good at being alone again, but that she’d never have to be. 

[whimsicalcotton]

I'm gonna be honest I just love the way you write amberpricefield so much. I've never even played the game. I love them so much. If you're still taking requests please pick your favorite.

skdfjsdhk thank you anon 🥺🥺🥺

thank u also for the free reign! here is some incredibly stupid Everybody's (Actually) Fine AU nonsense for u <3

--- --- ---

50: Nicknames/Pet Names

There’s a list of things other than “Max,” that Rachel and Chloe call her that probably runs a mile long. 

Chloe likes to stretch her name into a wide variety of different shapes — some more ridiculous than others — and though there apparently exists some method to her madness no one else seems to know quite what it is. Mad Max, Maximilian, Maximum Turbo-Force Dork. Max could fill up a whole notebook with just those, let alone the pet-names. Chloe was once solely an ironic user of the word babe, so Max has been told, but she’s long since fallen into the trap of habit and now throws it around far more casually than Max can handle. 

Rachel has also grown fond of playing around with Max’s name, but she leans more towards the terms of endearment. Max has lost count of the amount of times she’s gone all red in the face after being called honey or love or darling. There was even that one time Rachel had the audacity to call her babygirl in the middle of the dorm hallways, which made her fluster so hard she’d immediately started babbling some lame excuse about the time before literally running all the way back to her room. 

All this is to say: Max has been thinking it’s time for some payback.

So with devious plots in mind from the moment she gets up — perhaps Rachel is starting to rub off on her a bit — Max makes it her day's mission to give the two of them a taste of their own medicine. 

She catches Rachel first. Lingering in the dorm halls, fittingly enough, knee deep in yet another unnecessarily tense looking party planning conversation with Victoria. Of course, Victoria is often the only one who suffers in a conversation with Rachel, so when she turns to see Max approaching her expression shifts easily into one of earnest excitement.

“Morning, Max,” she greets, apparently feeling generous in her sparing Max from having to get flustered in front of Victoria. Her mistake. 

Max takes a final little breath for courage, and goes for the metaphorical kill. “Good morning, sweetheart. Am I seeing you for lunch today?”

She tries not to smile so hard watching Rachel’s cheeks turn red.

“Y-Yeah,” Rachel answers, looking momentarily horrified by her stammering before straightening up. “Yeah, sure, lunch. I’m there. See you then.”

As Max is taking her leave, hardly capable of stopping herself from skipping the whole way, she overhears their chatter resume. 

“Bitch, didn’t you literally just tell me we were gonna go over this shit again at lunch?” Victoria snaps, incredulous. “Oh my god, you’re down bad. That was pathetic. Well played, Amber, truly.”

“Shut the hell up, Chase,” Rachel hisses back. “Tell anyone what just happened and you’ll be on your own supplying party booze for the rest of the year.”

Max gets Chloe later on, during the aforementioned lunch hangout that Rachel is apparently snubbing Victoria to be present for. 

She’s in the midst of chowing down on some of the sweets Max brought along, getting bread crumbs and icing sugar all over herself in the process. By the time she’s done, there are patches of powdery white and a hint of jelly still adorning her face. Rachel tries to hide a bout of snorting giggles upon looking at her.

“Jesus, you’d think we never feed you,” she says, still covering her mouth with one hand and handing Chloe a napkin with the other. 

“Yeah,” Max agrees, taking the napkin in Chloe’s stead and reaching up to wipe off her face. “You’re making such a mess of yourself, baby.”

Chloe’s eyes go wide as saucers as she squeaks out an astoundingly unsure, “I sure am.” She lets Max finish cleaning her off before seemingly coming to her senses and going even redder than Rachel had earlier. 

Speaking of, Rachel’s gone a little pink again herself. She looks over at Max with a gaze as hungry as it is curious. “Man, you’re out for blood today, aren’t you?” 

“Just having a bit of fun,” Max assures with a smile, watching on in unabashed satisfaction as Chloe devolves into a grumbling, mumbling mess hiding her face in her hands.