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angelwithdemonictendencies · 2 months

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wake me from this eternal slumber, rumor has it, a kiss is all it takes; i'm no fairytale but your lips might make me one.

jh86 x reader: you've sworn off frat boys, but maybe just one more?

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (m on f) yay! we love exceptions, fingering, hair pulling and lips and limbs and all my usual stuff (you guys know what i'm about). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: well, favorites, my ex was in pike in undergrad, so you can thank him for 18k worth of a fantasy-level frat romance (i know, it's too much, i need to cut it down, but i can't. this is how i'm dealing with my breakup. leave me be). and, actually, don't thank him. thank me, because i worked really, really hard on this <3. there are a billion things that i ask you to take for granted, like how i included too many side characters, so i know it will be confusing, but i needed sleazy nh13 in there, okay? and i needed starboy pitcher lh43, and cc22 falling for his postgame reporter, and tz11 not being able to catch, and qh43 being a pawn in a president x president love story featuring alex turcotte. all of it was necessary for my healing process. i wanted to write something in which someone can drop into your life and rewrite all of the things you believe to be true. some star-crossed shit. so, this is my best shot. what is love, after all, but leaving your window open for fratboy jh86 to climb into? i was never actually in greek life, so all of this is based on what my friends have told me (sam is based on my irl best friend, fun fact). forgive me for any plot holes and inconsistencies. please, please, tell me what you think, because i love when you do, and tell me what you want next. thank you for your support. thank you for indulging my silly whims and most delusional daydreams. tell your snakes i love them. getting pretty busy up here in the real world, but until next time. go canucks. all my love).

this day, the first day of classes, had been a real disaster, honestly. what had been the worse part, even? it was hard to decide, with so many natural contenders.

would it be the alarm clock of your roommate, which had gone off for twenty minutes, until you had to get up yourself and shake her awake? or maybe the pop quiz in your lecture, on the very first day, when you forgot to do the reading? but, no, we can't forget the back to back to back texts from that guy, the one who mistook your general friendliness as romantic interest.

it had been a terrible day, genuinely, but this might be the worst of it, you thought, as you stood outside the tke house, on the sidewalk, waiting for your friends. your friends, who said they would be out ten minutes ago.

it was getting kind of brisk outside, and your outfit, compliant with the finance bros and business hoes theme, wasn't keeping you very warm. you looked down at your phone, tried to will a text from one of them into existence. you just wanted to go home, which, honestly, you probably should have already done by now. your sorority house was maybe a five minute walk down the row, but you didn't want to abandon your friends, and you didn't really want to make the walk alone, in the dark.

you could go back inside, you knew. but, this day had sucked, and you weren't in the mood to dance on an elevated surface tonight.

you opened the text conversation with your roommate, typed almost out? and hit send, before a deep voice pulled your head up.

"miss, is that an open container?" you looked up to find a stout officer of campus security shining his flashlight on you and your red plastic cup.

of course, because today was terrible, today would be the day that security cracks down on their no-open-containers-on-the-row rule. of course.

you looked into your solo cup, swirled around the pink liquid. what could you even say this was? the officer could probably smell the vodka in it from where he stood, a few feet away. honestly, it was probably better to just come clean. you'd get, what, a citation? hopefully a warning, if you could conjure up some tears?

you sighed, opened your mouth to spew some sob story, but you were cut off by some goofy voice coming from the door.

"there you are, baby!"

both you and the officer turned to face the voice, now an approaching figure.

your eyes narrowed as you tried to make out a face from the dim street light. you certainly were not anyone's baby. and you were fairly certain the only people who could have been wondering where you were would be the friends you came with, who had much more feminine voices.

before you could tell this guy he had the wrong idea, though, he slung a heavy arm around your shoulders, used it to pull you close to him before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, gentle, doting, fleeting.

you were about to shove this guy off of you, as he had obviously mistaken you for someone else.

"thanks for holding my drink for me," he said, then, taking your cup from your hand and downing it in one go.

you swallowed, your mind buzzing, not just with confusion but with the weight of his body against yours, the ghost of heat from his lips on your temple, the slightly muddled sandalwood scent of him so close. was he covering for you, this stranger? this stranger, who definitely could see your face, now, so there was no one he could be mistaking you for.

was he just being nice?

"'course, baby," you mustered, letting yourself lean into his embrace, hooking an arm around his waist. if he was going to get this officer off of your back, you'd let him.

your savior turned to face the shorter man in front of you both, as if noticing him for the first time. "oh, good evening, officer," he said, ever the gentleman. "can i help you?"

as the officer explained his presence with a gruff tone, you turned your neck to look at the face of the man who currently had his arm around you, whose lips on your forehead you could still feel like a purpling bruise.

you looked up at him, and your stomach flipped, because he was just so pretty. so much so that it flooded your gaze, made him hard to take in all at once. that fairytale profile, cut jaw, sharp cheekbones, soft slope of a nose. long, dark lashes that framed light blue eyes. grown out hair that curled around the brim of his backwards baseball cap, which read the letters tke in bold font. full, pink lips you had the sudden urge to tug on with your teeth.

uh oh, the gossip in your head whispered to her friends. we've seen this before. we know how this ends.

you could have shushed her.

"as you can see, officer, there's no liquid here, at least not anymore," the tke boy above you said with the voice of an experienced sweet-talker, smooth and sugary. "we wish we could be of more help, don't we, baby?"

he turned his gaze down to you, meeting your eyes directly for the first time. oceanic amusement met your careful skepticism, so electric and charged you swore the streetlight above you began to flicker.

"sure do," you said, reluctantly fixing your gaze on the officer and away from the mesmerizing face next to you.

the short man looked unconvinced, but switched his flashlight off anyways.

"have a good night, sir," you added, to which he muttered something and walked in the other direction.

you waited until he was out of earshot before lifting that warm arm from around your shoulders, crossing your own arms over your chest. "right," you began, "so, do i know you, or something?"

he tilted his head, let a bemused smile slant across his face, completely lopsided, completely endearing. "or something," he said, his eyes glinting, brimming over with mirth.

you furrowed your brow, shifted on your feet. "why did you come out here, then?" you asked. "and what was that whole act for?"

he sucked on his teeth for a moment, during which you took in his whole frame, his wide shoulders, tall build, strong stance.

uh oh is right, you thought to yourself, clasping your hands behind your back.

he shrugged, the movement making the muscles in his shoulders tense. you looked at your feet. "saw you come out here by yourself," he said, simply. "just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

you narrowed your eyes, which made his gaze shimmer again.

"then i saw you with the security guy, and he's been camping out recently for their open container policy, so i figured i'd-"

"you figured you'd pretend that we're together?" you raised a brow. "awful dramatic, don't you think? could have just smacked the cup from my hand." you cringed internally as soon as you said this. you'd felt his hand on your side, and there was no chance that soft touch was capable of anything so harsh.

he just took a step closer to you, though, and part of you wanted to back away, but you didn't. you couldn't. "maybe i had selfish motives," he added, "maybe i wanted him to think i could pull a pretty girl like you, hm?"

you gave a slight scoff, the smallest shake of your head, before looking up at him again, finding him closer, looking at you like you were something special. something he wouldn't find again.

"okay, you can turn off the charm, now," you warned, more for your own sake than his. "what's your name?"

he stuck out his hand to shake yours, which felt wholly odd, given you could still feel his lips on your skin, like a brand, a scar. "i'm jack," he said, and you took his hand, gave it a shake as you offered him your own name in return.

"and you're in tke?" you asked, half-hoping he would laugh, nod you off, say that fraternities were stupid. hoping he wouldn't be a frat brother, so that he might still be on the table. so that you wouldn't have to walk away from him knowing exactly how he would hurt you if you gave him too much of a chance, too much of yourself.

he nodded though, and you could have sighed in disappointment. he was so, so pretty, but pretty wasn't good enough for your no frat boys rule. not after last time. "are you in a sorority?"

"no," you said immediately, shaking your head. this was a lie, you were in alpha phi, but you were hoping he'd lose interest as soon as you denied it, as so many greek-life boys did.

the light didn't blink out from jack's eyes though. "you must have a walk ahead of you then, if you're not on the row," he said. "i'll walk with you, it's dark."

you peered up at him, dubious. what was his angle, here? what would he have over you if you said yes?

luckily, you didn't have to answer, because you heard your roommate's voice from the door, now walking towards you. "'m so sorry, didn't see your text," she said, walking right past jack and pulling you in for a hug. "of course we can go. let's go back to the house, yeah?"

you nodded, returned her hug.

"the house?" jack's voice asked, to which your roommate pulled away from you, looked at him.

"yeah, a-phi," she said, skeptical. "um, who is this?" she elbowed you.

"this is jack," you explained, "he saved me from a safety citation. jack, this is my roommate, sam."

he nodded to her, which she returned. if jack had put together that you had just lied to his face about being in greek life, he didn't call you out on it, only smiling that goofy grin at you again, the one that awoke butterflies in your stomach, the one that had the street light rolling its eyes at you.

"well, jack, we're off," sam said, linking her arm in yours.

"goodnight, ladies," he said as the two of you set off down the sidewalk. "until you next need saving, baby."

you shook in a disbelieving laugh.

"baby?" sam whisper-screamed at you.

"i'll explain later," you told her.

you did explain later, that night, when the two of you were taking off your makeup in your mirroring vanities.

"i'm sorry, what?" sam said when you had finished recalling the night. "he quite literally kissed you?"

you flushed, waved her off. "barely," you said, "on the head."

"okay, sure," she mused, patting toner into her face. "sure, as if this isn't the longest you've talked about a guy since last year!"

you sighed. "it doesn't matter," you said, trying to make yourself believe it. "he's in tke. and i've sworn off frat guys, you know this."

"oh, i know this," she replied, "but rules are made to be broken."

"that's not right," you sing-songed.

"don't talk back to your president," she sung right back at you, using her position in the sorority as a trump-card, as she was so prone to doing.

"he's probably just like the rest of them," you reminded her, and yourself, "he's charming and sweet and lovely until he gets what he wants, and then he's gone."

the words hurt as you spoke them, jagged and sharp in your throat, like shards of glass. it hurt to think about your history with frat guys, the ones you'd let get close to you.

the guy from pike whom you had been seeing, sort of, for half a year, who had relished in the chase of it all, been so caring until you finally slept with him. and then he acted like you were nothing, not even worth a text. he had acted like you were crazy, delusional, for thinking your relationship went any deeper than sex.

he had all but laughed at you when you had suggested anything different. "i don't, like, do labels," he had told you. "you know that, right?"

you shuddered, now, thinking about how stupid, how utterly childish he had made you feel. thinking about how you had given the next guy, the one from lambda, a chance, about how he had done the same thing, with slightly different words, on a slightly different timeline.

you refused to feel that way again.

sam just shrugged. "i don't know, love," she said, "the way he was looking at you, back there, i swear, it was special."

you scrunched up your nose. "i'm not changing my mind. it's not worth it. he's not worth it."

something in the back of your mind twisted, though, because there was a trace of disbelief in your tone.

"whatever you say," sam said.

"now, tell me about your progress on project peace treaty," you said, hoping to change the subject, referring to sam's crush on the tke president.

one of your other friends had come up with the moniker after sam had been voted president herself, like a relationship between the two leaders would be some kind of deal between nations.

sam pretended to faint in her chair. "i don't know how much more obvious i can be," she whined. "i swear, i can't tell if he's just quiet or if he wants me to get the fuck away from him."

you rolled your eyes. "there's no way he's not into you," you said, and you meant it - sam was your best friend, and the best person you knew. if there was a way not to like her, you were unfamiliar with it.

she just shook her head. "you haven't talked to alex," she said, solemn. "he's, like, impossible to read." she shot you a look. "not all of us can have a tke brother wrapped around our finger after meeting once."

you threw a pillow at her, laughed her off, tried not to dream that night about starry blue eyes and soft lips on your temple.

the week passed, slowly, defined by welcome back mixers and new classes, new faces.

before you knew it, it was friday. you were exhausted, but you only had two classes today, the first of which passed quickly, the second of which was ballroom dance 101.

you had already had your first ballroom class on wednesday, so you knew it was fairly laid back, a good way to get some unit credits, a place to move around a bit before the weekend. you were, however, taking it alone. sam had been planning on taking it with you, but then an opening for a class she really needed had come up, and you had insisted you'd be fine on your own, that obviously her major credits were more important than this random elective dance class.

and it was fine, truly, if not a little less fun without her there. you waited patiently for the instructor to arrive, watching the little circles of friends stretch and chat. you leaned your back against the wall, crossed your arms over your chest, let your mind slow until you felt a presence next to you.

you glanced to your left, felt your heart stutter as you did a double take. "jack?" you asked, almost incredulous. if he looked pretty in the night, he looked downright distracting in the daylight, today in khakis and a polo shirt.

"hey, baby," he said, maybe a trace of smugness in his voice as he mirrored your lean, your posture. "how're you?"

this felt like a trap. he felt like a trap. your eyes narrowed. "you're in ballroom? since when?"

"since i switched into it, yesterday," he answered, simply and plainly, before his mouth quirked up. "is that what the experts are callin' it? just 'ballroom?'" he gave a facetious nod. "i like it. drop the 'dance,' 's too bulky."

you rolled your eyes, but laughed nonetheless. "we went over this kind of expert vocabulary on day one," you said with a shrug, "sorry you missed it."

the instructor clapped her hands, signaling her arrival, before beginning a stretching sequence on the floor.

"you're gonna dance in khakis?" you whispered to jack, who had taken the spot next to you as you both leaned forward to touch your toes.

"was i supposed to bring my tux?" he asked, which made you choke down a laugh. "or are we doing some kind of breakdancing i'm unaware of?"

"what, you don't have your handstand mastered?" you teased, "if you insist, but that's the foundation we're building from, just warning you."

"students, focus!" the instructor demanded, shooting you a glare, which you acknowledged with a nod before sharing a guilty smile with jack, like kids caught laughing too hard on the field trip bus.

after class, the both of you were planning on walking back to the row, so you just walked together, chatted pleasantly. the street was pretty in the daylight in a way it wasn't at night. there was something to be said, you thought, about being able to see everything clearly, about knowing exactly what you were looking at. and sure, there was beauty in mystery, and there was beauty in danger, but there was beauty in comfort, too.

"so, do you think i could get your number?" jack said, as you both turned the corner, the tke house now in clear view. his smile was easy. "for all the questions 'm gonna have about the tango?"

you let out a little laugh, thought for a moment. it was just your number, after all, and he said it was for class. it probably didn't mean anything. it was probably safe. "okay," you said, taking out your phone, handing it to him, "sure." your mouth quirked up as he put in his information, sent himself a text. "don't know how much help 'm gonna be, though."

he handed your phone back to you, that halfway grin on his pretty face. "you're right," he said, making his way towards his front door. "if anything, you'll just distract me from the steps, lookin' like that and all."

you looked down, shook your head, felt the gentle heat of a blush on your face. "focus up, then," you chided, gripping the straps of your backpack.

"oh, i'm focused, baby," he called out, "just not on dance."

you rolled your eyes at him as he smiled at your reaction, both of you saying your goodbyes. you heard his front door shut only when you had completely turned away, began to walk the few houses down the street.

when you got back to your room, you flopped down on your bed, breathing into your soft comforter, until you heard the door swing open again. you looked up.

"all good?" sam asked, raising a brow. she threw her bag and keys on the floor by her desk, slipped off her shoes, hopped up onto her bed, opposite yours.

"yeah," you said, sighed, then laughed, short and breathy. "remember that guy from last weekend?"

her eyes went wide, now alert. her posture straightened. "uh, your valiant hero in the face of danger? of course."

you laughed, then, more naturally this time, hugged a pillow to your chest. "he's in my dance class." you looked down at your hand, examined your fingernails. "and i gave him my number."

sam squinted at you. "okay," she said, slowly. "i know what i think about this, i think you know what i think about this." she tugged her hair elastic down, freeing her hair from the ponytail it had been in. "what do you think about this?"

you sucked on your teeth, thought for a moment. "i don't know," you said. "i guess i'm just confused. and worried. and i don't think i want him to text me first, but i also kind of want-"

a buzz from your phone interrupted you, and sam tilted her head back and groaned. "that's him, isn't it?" she asked. "that's definitely him."

and it shouldn't have been, you thought, there was no way it was him, because it had been what, ten minutes? you knew frat guys, and you knew it couldn't be him.

it was.

forgot to ask if you were coming tonight, he had texted, followed by told you you're distracting lol.

"i knew it," sam said, shaking her head, "i'm like an oracle. it's a gift, i know, but it's also a burden." she gestured for you to speak. "what's he say?"

"asked if i'm coming tonight," you said, looking up at her, "in all lowercase. and he said lol."

she waved you off. "non-issue," she declared.

"but, like," you pushed, giving her a look, "who taught him to use all lowercase?"

"doesn't matter," sam continued, "he called you baby and kissed you on the forehead. he gets a lowercase pass."

"so you're the oracle and the lawmaker?" you asked, teasing.

sam nodded seriously. "and the president," she finished.

you laughed, then sighed, began typing.

"what're you saying?" sam asked, leaning forward on her bed, as if she would be able to read your screen.

"just that 'm not going," you said. not tonight sry, you sent, followed by you might want to get that distraction thing checked out.

sam nodded. "what was their theme tonight? something bad, right?"

"country bros and rodeo hoes," you answered with a grimace.

"who the hell is in their little think tank?" sam asked, shaking her head, "'m gonna tell alex if they do the bros/hoes thing again a phi isn't coming."

you were nodding in agreement when your phone buzzed again. then you'll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow? he had asked, followed by any chance you wanna come watch my friends' baseball fall game?, followed by maybe more exposure will help w my distraction problem :).

you bit your lip, looked up at sam. "what?" she asked.

"have plans tomorrow morning?" you said as you typed. thanks for the invite, you sent, followed by can i bring sam? and can you bring alex?

"of course not," sam said, "it's saturday morning."

as long as you'll be there, you can bring anyone you want, he texted back, followed by alex is in!

see you there :) you said in a final response.

the field @ 9, he sent, followed by thank you!

your brow furrowed at this, because what was he thanking you for? what had you promised him, in this interaction, besides just seeing him? surely that wasn't enough to warrant a thank you?

you cleared your throat, tossed your phone aside. "well, you do now," you said to sam. "we're going to baseball tomorrow morning."

sam groaned. "those guys suck."

"alex is coming," you tried.

"i love baseball!" sam said, straightening again. "and soph is covering it for the paper, so we can support her, too."

you laughed. "so easily convinced, eh?"

"you don't wanna talk to me about being easily persuaded," she sing-songed. visions of easy grins and high cheekbones flashed across your mind, and you knew she was right, so you let it rest.

the next morning, as the two of you walked to the baseball field, sam was reminding you about the plight of being the president.

"we've warned her a million times about what she's posting," she told you, out of breath, referring to one of the freshman who didn't seem to understand your house's social media rules. "i don't know how many times i can remind her politely before i just start smacking cans out of her hand when someone takes their phone out."

you laughed as you rounded the corner by the field entrance. "i say resort to violence," you said, "i hear it's always the answer."

sam groaned while you smiled. "look, there they are," you whispered, spotting him and jack over by the stands. suddenly all evidence of sam's unhappiness was mysteriously gone. her face was the image of alert interest. you imagined you probably looked a little more nervous as you approached where they were standing.

"gentlemen," sam greeted the pair of them as you approached. "good to see you." she shot a wink alex's way. he appeared completely unaffected. "'specially you, handsome."

you and jack shared a gentle smile at sam's boldness, and it felt like a secret language, the kind you make up with your friend during a playdate, the kind everyone understands but that feels extra special, anyways.

"hi, sam," alex said, plainly, but you caught the faintest of a pleased look in his eyes before he nodded to you in greeting.

"thanks for coming," jack said, although when he said it he was speaking directly to you. there was a fluttery feeling in your stomach that you scolded into submission. then he offered you his arm, and you decided that the butterflies were probably here to stay, at least for now. "shall we?"

you exhaled, had the feeling that touching his extended arm would be like touching a loaded gun, dangerous and daunting, but you took it anyways, found him warm and comfortable against your side as you fell into step together. "i'm, uh," you started, testing your limits, "i'm happy you texted."

jack shook his hair from his face. his returning smile was nothing short of stunning. "yeah?" he asked, which had your mouth feeling a bit dry. "made you happy?" this fact seemed to make him especially pleased, proud.

"what, no arm for me, al?" came sam's abrupt voice from behind you. alex appeared horrified by this nickname. "that's fine, i have enough arms, anyways. three would be overdoing it, i think."

you coughed, turned your gaze back to jack. you felt the force of his attention like a suckerpunch to the stomach. "yeah, i, um," you tried, "thanks, i guess. for inviting us."

his soft features lit up with amusement at your uncertainty, obvious discomfort. he appeared just on the verge of laughter, but it didn't really feel like he was laughing at you, somehow. you knew what being on the bad end of joke was like, and this didn't feel like that. maybe you were just distracted by how his mouth curved around his almost-laugh, slow and delighted. "of course, baby," he said, and you sort of wished he would stop calling you that. for your mental well-being, he really needed to stop calling you that. he tugged you slightly closer to him as you made your way towards some empty seats in the stands. "can i have the seat next to you?"

and you let out a little laugh, then, as you sat down, made a motion as if to wipe off the seat to your left. "all yours," you said.

he hummed, something sparking in his eyes as he sat down, which had you rethinking your words, the gravity of them. you couldn't bring yourself to regret them, though, if you were honest. how could you regret them, when they made him look at you like this? like there was some worldly truth in the blush on your cheeks?

the cracking sound of a bat pulled you from your daze. "so, who do you know on the team?" you asked, eager to push the conversation towards something safer, something that didn't have your neck feeling hot, didn't make the arm rest between the two of you feel like something cruel.

he turned his head towards the field slowly, reluctantly. "11, 22," he said, pointing to where they stood, one tall, the other shorter, broader. "trevor and cole." he smiled. "they aren't very good."

you huffed a laugh. "they're on a d1 team," you chided, "so they must not be terrible."

"we still have no idea how they made the team," jack replied, shaking his head. "you'll see, swear trev can't catch a ball."

"and they only took on cole 'cause he's good with media," alex added from the seat on the other side of jack. "he's their backup backup catcher."

sam snapped her fingers. "cole, like cole caufield?" she asked, her eyes widening when alex nodded. sam looked at you. "he's the one soph's been talkin' about. the one she interviews all the time for the paper."

you laughed in recognition. your friend sophie covered almost every baseball game, and apparently a certain backup backup catcher had been giving her a lot of grief whenever she tried to get a useable quote.

"oh, and 43," jack said, pointing to the lanky kid on the pitcher's mound. his smile turned bashful. "'s luke, my younger brother."

your stomach flipped at how his gaze had softened. "didn't know you had siblings," you said, although you didn't know much about him, so you guessed that made sense.

he just nodded. "older brother, too, you might know him, actually."

"'s in tke with you?" you asked, to which jack made some affirmative sound.

"yeah," he said, "quinn, 's close with nico."

you hummed in recognition, picturing their faces, noticing the similarities. "right," you said, "you guys do look similar."

his smile turned indulgent as he tilted his head. "'m better looking though, right, baby?" he asked, and his voice dripped with confidence, but you felt a strange compulsion to reassure him, anyways, could somehow sense that this was important.

so you just ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, gauging what to say, here, how much you could reveal. "i think you're pretty, jack," you said, and it was soft, low, for him. your eyes caught on his for a blazing second. "you know i do." and it was true, you knew he was aware of the way he affected you.

his gaze grew hooded for a moment, which terrified you, a horror-movie jump scare, a reminder of the reason you made your no-frat-boy rule in the first place.

luckily, as always, sam had something to say. she scoffed. "don't know about that," she said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs over the seat in front of her. "quinn's a straight ten." she gave a satisfied smile, looked to her right. "say, al, d'you think you could set me up with him? you guys are close, right?"

alex didn't answer right away. he shifted slightly in his seat.

"c'mon, from one president to another, think you could help me out?" sam gave a dreamy sort of sigh. "he's got a real face on him, and ever since he's grown out his hair-"

"'m not setting you up with him," was alex's short reply, cutting sam off, not quite looking at her.

you knocked jack's knee with your own, mirroring smiles on your faces.

sam just pouted as the game started. "don't have to be such an ass about it," she said, but you could tell by her face that she had accomplished exactly what she had set out to.

you weren't really a baseball fan, but this particular game flew by, probably because of the shaggy-haired, full-lipped person sitting to your left.

the slow pace of the game was cut with conversations about the party tke threw last night (it was lame, jack insisted, and his knowing, shy grin gave you a hint as to the reason why), which led to a conversation about who picks the themes (a board of esteemed individuals, apparently).

"i know it's just nico," sam said, rolling her eyes. "tell him that if he keeps up with the bros and hoes thing a phi isn't coming."

this actually appeared to alarm alex. "you're not serious," he said.

"as death," sam said, nodding.

alex promptly took out his phone and started to text someone. you had the sneaking suspicion it was nico.

jack asked about what you did last night, which led you to talking about your favorite movies.

"you've never seen scream?" you asked, practically confused.

he just shook his head, something glinting in his eyes.

you scoffed. "you have to. it's the best."

"you'll have to show it to me, sometime, then," was his response, which had you blushing, which had you wanting to.

cole never went in, as was expected. he seemed to spend the majority of his time goofing off in the dugout, throwing paper cups at his teammates, then turning away like he had no idea how they'd been hit.

luke threw a great game. he was the kind of player that drew your attention, that you just knew was good, even if you didn't know anything about the sport.

trevor only batted once (he leaned his shoulder into the pitch and took his walk). as an outfielder, he didn't see a ton of action, only getting one real shot at a catch, of course fumbling an easy out, much to the dismay of his teammates.

cole put his head in his hands but welcomed his friend back to the dugout with open arms.

the game ended with a win for the good guys, and you found yourself sticking around, all because jack wanted to wait to congratulate his friends and brother. he extended a hand to you to help you up from your seat, his grip firm and warm against your palm.

your group of four walked down to where the players would exit. you were surprised to find the silence especially comfortable, easy.

at some point, jack slapped his thigh, lightly. "i meant to ask you, baby, what's your coffee order?"

you gave him a confused sort of look. "just hot coffee with oat milk," you answered, almost wary. "why?"

"for next time," he answered, like it was the easiest thing in the world, maybe the most obvious.

you swallowed down how touched you were by this. it felt like ginger, like something you know is good for you but that feels foreign, harsh, anyways. "how do you like your coffee, then?" you asked.

"sweet," he answered, with a smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "really, really sweet."

a chaotic presence shook you both from the haze you'd settled into. "oh, hey, guys." you turned, found your friend sophie there, hands full with a clipboard and her bag and a voice recorder. she pushed her hair from her face. "how's it going?"

"all good, soph," sam answered. "you?"

sophie blew out a breath. "will be good once i get a couple quotes," she said, "just hope they don't give me twenty-two. readers want quotes from impact players, and-"

"sayin' 'm not an impact player, love?" came a goofy approaching voice. you turned again to see cole coming out of the now open exit gate.

sophie groaned. "tell me they're giving me someone else," she pleaded, to which cole grinned wider. "tell me they're giving me someone who played, today."

cole rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles. "might wanna turn on your recorder," he advised, "you're gonna wanna get this."

sophie just rolled her eyes and pulled him to the side, beginning a short interview about the game as you continued to wait.

shortly after, trevor walked out, grinning when he registered the group of you. jack slung an arm around your shoulders as his friend approached, which you noticed. which you would have questioned, maybe, if he didn't pull you into his side in the best of ways, if his touch didn't make you basically delirious. so delirious that you reached a hand up to hold his, dangling from your shoulder.

you could almost hear his satisfied smile as trevor clapped alex on the shoulder in greeting. "packed the stands for us, eh?" he asked, to which alex laughed.

it was the most emotion you'd seen from him. sam appeared very confused, crossed her arms over her chest. "great game," she said.

"yeah," jack continued. "my favorite part was that gorgeous catch in the sixth." he nodded. "seamless."

trevor scoffed, waved jack off. "almost had that one," he insisted. "was this close." he brought two fingers up to show just how close he had been to making that catch.

"you were not," came another voice. you recognized the tall figure as jack's younger brother.

jack clapped his hand in a handshake, congratulated him on the win. you echoed the sentiment, stuck out your hand in greeting, which he shook. "really good game," you said, "i'm-"

"know who you are," luke said, to which you furrowed your brow.

"how?" you asked. luke shared a look with his brother, halfway amused, halfway bored.

jack cleared his throat. "might've mentioned you," he said, but it came out like a mumble, a murmur into your hair.

your heart felt too big for your chest, for a moment. the peanut gallery around you faded away, suddenly it felt like it was just the two of you, standing here. just the two of you, in this universe. "been talkin' about me?" you whispered, and you couldn't help but lean a little more into his side, your grip on his hand growing a little more substantial, a little more confident.

because you'd been someone's secret before, someone's wyd text late at night, someone's nobody, really, someone's a friend. you knew what it felt like to be traded up for, like an old phone, to be the just old enough model that someone looked for someone else, someone newer.

it felt a little spectacular to be someone to write home about, someone to be seen with in broad daylight, someone to be gushed about to a brother. maybe it just felt spectacular to be that kind of someone for jack, in particular.

"a bit," jack breathed into your ear, the softest, probably most uncertain you'd heard him. like he didn't want to scare you away.

you bumped your hip against his. "real chatterbox, hm?" you whispered, adoring the ghost of a flush up his neck, the shy smile he couldn't seem to hide.

"only about stuff that matters," he said, and whatever joke you were going to say died in your mouth, tasted bitter.

luckily, cole and sophie approached, drawing your attention away.

"good to go?" alex asked, to which cole nodded, a smug smile on his face.

sophie huffed. "i don't know why they give me you every damn game," she exclaimed, shoving her recorder and clipboard into her bag. "as if you could give me a useable quote if your life depended on it."

cole scoffed. "i can't help it if your questions are boring as hell," he said. "why don't you ask me something interesting?"

"like what?" sophie asked. "what do you propose i ask you?"

"to dinner next week," cole answered immediately, his smile more of a toothy smirk, and sophie groaned, shook her head.

"i'm out," she said, taking a quick right. she made eye contact with you and sam. "i'll see you back at the house, tonight, girls?"

you both nodded, called out your agreement and goodbye.

when sophie was out of earshot, trevor clapped cole on the shoulder. "don't you get tired of striking out, coley?" he asked.

"you don't seem to, trev," luke observed, to which jack let out a laugh.

"hey, i got a single out of today," trevor argued. no one seemed to view that as the victory that he did.

cole and trevor eventually peeled off to the athlete's dining hall to get lunch, while luke walked back to the row with the group of you, saying something about grabbing a shirt from quinn's room.

when you all made it back, standing in front of the tke house, jack reluctantly retracted his arm from your shoulders. you felt cold without it.

luke headed up to the door.

"luke, tell quinn i say hi, would you?" sam asked, to which he gave some confused confirmation, before disappearing into the house. sam then turned to alex. "a pleasure, as always, al," she said, barely sparing him a second glance.

"yeah, bye?" alex said, almost a question, obviously wary of sam's change in pace.

jack touched your hand, pulled your gaze to his like two magnets, eliciting some kind of shield between you and the rest of the world. "thanks again for coming," he said, so soft, you could feel in your bones that he meant it.

"'course," you said, found it strange that it was entirely true. of course you would come when he called you. of course you'd indulge his every whim, when he asked so politely. "see you on friday? for dance?"

and he gave the slightest of pouts, but it drew your attention to his mouth nonetheless. made your cheeks feel hot, your heart beat fast, nonetheless. "too long, baby," he said, and you could have rolled your eyes at his boyish whine, but you never would. not when he was whining for you.

you just stayed quiet, let yourself smile, slightly. "maybe before friday, then?"

he grinned as if some plan he'd formed had turned out exactly as he'd hoped. "i'll text you," he said, giving you that fairytale smile, and you'd been told that before.

you'd been told that before, during nighttime hours that passed like slug across rain-drenched walkways. you'd been told that while in boxer shorts that weren't your own, standing in a doorframe that was practically laughing at you.

i'll text you, you'd been told, from some guy on his bed, on his phone, not quite looking at you.

and the doorframe might have cackled at how desperate you seemed, then, desperate for something you'd never get from this guy in the room you were leaving.

kick rocks, girl, the doorframe might have said, you know how many i've seen come in and out, even just this week? and you really think you're special?

but, right now, jack told you that he'd text you, and you couldn't find a doubt in your mind. you knew he would.

you proved to be right. the weekend flew by, because you were busy, yes, but also because of the near-ongoing text conversation you had fallen into with jack.

he might ask you something about the classes you were taking (besides ballroom), to which you would shyly tell him about some finance discussion you found genuinely interesting.

you might ask if he played sports at all, like his brother (he played hockey growing up, but wasn't good enough to play in college, like luke was with baseball), to which you would tell him you found it hard to believe that he could ever be not good enough at something.

and you'd believe it, too, wholeheartedly. sure, he had this ease to him, this softness, but he also seemed to possess a specific kind of eagerness, a delicious sort of hunger you felt must lead him to the things he wanted without exception.

you wouldn't admit it to anyone who asked, but he had you smiling at your phone on more than one occasion, had your heart beating a little faster with every notification. he had you dreamy. it was a good look on you.

that's how he had you, just over the phone, so the feeling was amplified by a million the next monday afternoon, after class, on your walk back from the business building, as you passed the tke house. a walk you'd taken a hundred-something times over the years, but this time was different, because your name was being called out of an upstairs window.

your heart stuttered, because you recognized that voice, in its confidence, in its goofy gentleness. you stopped walking, looked up, searching for an open window.

"that you, jack?" you called back, when you found it, found him leaning out of the pane with a smile you could see from where you stood. even though you knew. even though you'd never mistake his tone for anyone else.

he gave a pout. "who else?" he asked, and it was careful, calculated, even though it was playful. like he really wanted to know who else you thought would call your name from a window. like he really wanted to be the only one.

"oh, no one," you assured him, beginning to walk down the sidewalk again, towards your house, "you're my only romeo." you'd meant it in a joking way, but you could tell the first three words were the ones that mattered to him. the ones that would echo in his head. you're my only.

this made him light up, made him glow like a disco ball in a middle school gymnasium. "look so pretty today, baby!" he said, in response, before the distance between you grew so stark.

you flushed, wanted to feel the word pretty from his mouth against your neck, wanted to swallow it down. but you just smiled. "only today?" you asked, wondered where this confidence had come from, tried to imagine you saying that to anyone else. you couldn't.

"come back tomorrow, just to check!" he called out after you, making you shake your head, look down at your feet.

you weren't even back to your front door yet before your phone buzzed. not just today, he'd texted you.

i knew what you meant :), you sent back.

just didn't want you to think differently, he replied, followed by spend a scary amount of time thinking about how pretty you are.

the following day, you'd be lying if you said a smile didn't bloom across your face as you walked back after class, as you approached the tke house. maybe it was some pavlov response, but it was probably because you recognized the figure sitting on the window pane on the top floor, swinging his legs, just looking out, like he was on the top of a pirate ship.

you smiled, but your pulse stuttered, a bit. "jack?" you asked, although of course you knew it was him, that perfect facial structure, shag of soft hair. "is it safe up there?"

his gaze fixed on you, alight with flame and amusement. "worried 'bout me, baby?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes, but something in you twitched, because you were, actually. when did that happen?

"why're you hanging outta your window?" you asked, because you didn't need to tell him that you cared that much about him, not yet. you barely wanted to admit it to yourself, even.

he seemed to take your deflection as confirmation, anyways, to see right through you, as he typically did. his grin ticked up, a beautiful combination of a bashful blush and confident smile. he pushed his hair from his face. "knew you'd be walkin' by," he said, swung his feet up and back gently. "had to catch you."

you swallowed, ran your palms along the straps of your backpack in delighted disbelief. "you were waiting for me to walk by?" you asked, still not quite understanding.

he only nodded, tilted his head, gave the softest of smirks. it was almost too much. "don't you know you've got me waitin' by the phone, baby?" he asked, melodic. it was almost like he was making fun of you, with that teasing tone, but you knew in your heart that he wasn't. that he would never.

cherry-blossom pink bloomed across the bridge of your nose as his confession registered in your mind. the thought of him throughout his day, acutely aware of his phone in his pocket, his heart racing at every buzz, like yours did. "bein' so patient, are you?" you asked, the words smooth and drowsy in your throat, like cough syrup.

he hummed, swung a leg back over the pane, starting to shift his body back inside. "'m here when you need me, baby," he said, matter-of-fact, absolute. his gaze sharpened, the temperature of it rising to a scorch you felt like a slap. "or when you want me."

it was something sort of breathtaking, how honest he was with you, from the beginning. how he seemed perfectly content just waiting for you to come to terms with the attraction you felt so deeply. the attraction he could see in your eyes, in your breath, in your words.

you were scared, though, because this was the before part. and the guys you'd had before had appeared genuinely interested during the before part, too. it was the after part you were concerned about.

because what if he lost interest as soon as he had you, like the other guys did? he seemed so different, and so genuine, and sure, you'd never thought anyone to be as beautiful as him, but what if he wasn't different? what if he left you, too, standing alone, dumb, a desperate fool?

how many times had a beautiful trick forced your hand? you shivered at the thought, but the romantic in you wanted to believe. in yourself, in him. she wanted to believe in the love story between the beautiful trick and the desperate fool. she needed to.

the following day, perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, as you approached tke house on your walk back, to recognize jack's familiar figure in his front yard. he appeared to be making progress closer to you, day by day, from inside his room, to outside his window, to now, just next to the sidewalk.

the scene you approached wasn't necessarily a rare one, not on the row, but it might appear odd to an outsider. a few of the brothers, some that you recognized, were sitting on a couch that they had obviously moved from inside, while a couple others, jack included, were lounging on adirondack chairs. most of them had computers out, doing work, or something like it. and, of course, because it was a sunny afternoon, all of them, save for one, were bare-chested.

you weren't especially sensitive or judgmental when it came to that sort of thing, but, as you got closer, you found your cheeks growing hot, anyways. you were embarrassed like a kid, like you'd been caught with something forbidden, and you might've walked right by the house, avoiding eye contact, if jack hadn't made that impossible.

"tryna sneak by, baby?" he called out from his chair, teasing, his posture so distractingly relaxed, knees spread wide. he waved you over with a knowing smile. "c'mere," he said, but not like a demand. like a request, sweet-sounding from his full mouth.

and you'd do just about anything he asked, so of course you exhaled, turned on your foot, walked nervously from the sidewalk onto the lawn, over to his chair. you nodded your hello to nico, on the couch, on your way, finally stilled in front of jack's chair.

your heart was pounding, your palms felt damp. he'd called you baby, in front of all of his friends, like you weren't something to hide. the opposite, actually, like you were something to show off, someone to be proud of. he looked at you like you were worth something, and he looked so beautiful, drenched in sunlight, so stunning that your throat felt tight.

"hi," you said, internally smacked yourself at how lame you sounded, how dumb.

"hi," jack parroted, his smile growing as he shut his computer, set it down on the ground next to him. you suspected he could probably feel your nerves, your distraction. you suspected he was delighted in it. and that made you feel a bit better, at least. to be his delight, for the moment being. "you know quinn, right?"

you turned your eyes to the chair next to jack, to a face you recognized, the only one in the yard wearing a shirt. "yeah," you answered, giving quinn a small nod, which he returned. "hey, quinn."

the older brother gave you a small smile. "hey," he replied, "heard your sam's been askin' about me."

you laughed, twisted the sole of your sneaker into the grass slowly. "she has," you confirmed, although you highly doubted her interest was genuine. "very recently, at least."

quinn just laughed, gave a slight shake of his head before turning back to his computer. he knew something you didn't, you could tell, but you couldn't focus on that, right now, not when jack's voice called you back from your curious state.

"wanna sit?" he asked, spreading his legs wider as if to make room for you. you scrunched up your nose, slightly, in thought.

"you're not busy?" you asked, sort of shaky, shifting on your feet.

he shook his head, gave his thigh a soft pat in invitation. "wanna hear about your day," he said, and you could have swooned.

you set down your backpack next to his laptop, on the grass, let him pull you onto his lap. you settled into his chest, crossed your feet over the far armrest, rested your hands in your own lap as he draped a heavy arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

you tried not to ruminate too hard on how warm he was, how his bare skin seemed to spark against you like an electric shock. jesus, had you ever been so awkward?

"nervous, eh?"

you looked up at him, found his smile lazy but his eyes attentive, almost concerned. you nodded, because who could lie to those eyes? "you make me nervous," you said, plainly, because it was true.

he fixed you with that starry gaze, his mouth dipping slightly into something like relief. you were confused, your brow furrowing as he took your hand in his free one, brought your fingers up to his neck, just below his ear. he pressed your index and middle finger into his soft skin until you could feel his pulse, until it vibrated through you.

until you could feel just how fast his heart was beating. you felt molten, all over, like day-old valentine's day chocolate over a flame.

you rubbed careful circles into his neck, as if to soothe the underlying pace. "like you just ran up the stairs," you said, and it came out like a whisper. jack just huffed a laugh, let his hand fall to the top of your legs. there was something mesmerizing in his eyes when he looked at you, then. "thank you," you added, a breath.

"make me nervous, too, baby," he said, so soft only you could hear. his mouth twisted into a teasing grin. "'m just better at hidin' it."

you rolled your eyes, but relaxed deeper into him, all the same, leaning your head back on his extended arm, shifting across his lap. "guess 'll have to get better at it, then," you said, a small smile on your face.

he just shook his head. "hope you don't," he told you. "hope you never hide from me."

your tongue felt too big for your mouth, then, so you just asked about his day, told him about yours, felt yourself grow more and more comfortable with each passing second, as the sun peeled across the sky like a sweet orange. you had homework to do, but you lost track of time, talking with him about everything and nothing, about nonsense and significance. you found yourself hanging off of his words like they were his lips, found yourself laughing so genuinely and sharing more with him than you had with a new person in a long, long time.

his laugh rang in your head like church bells. everything he said to you felt like a secret, like something just between the two of you. people moved to and from the lawn as you spoke, as you listened, but neither of you seemed to notice. the hours melted away in moments.

"jesus, there you are," came a loud voice from the sidewalk, pulling you from your bubble. you turned, found sam, a hand on her hip, looking right at you. "would it kill you to answer your phone?"

guilt bloomed in your chest. you hadn't thought to check your phone in what must have been an eternity. you quickly picked yourself up from jack's lap to grab it from your bag, caught a glimpse of his pout, which made your stomach flip. you scrolled through your notifications, winced at the texts you'd missed, mostly sam asking where you were. "i'm sorry," you said, looking up at her, and you meant it.

sam didn't hold grudges, though, had better things to do. it was one of the things you loved about her. so she just waved you off, approached you where you knelt next to your phone. she tilted her chin up at jack in greeting before noticing his brother. "'sup, quinn," she said, pushing her glasses to the top of her head. "didn't get the tarps-off memo, did you?"

quinn looked up, smiled right back at her. his gaze darted to the front door of the house and back in a second, almost undetectable, but you noticed it, noticed quinn's grin grow almost devious. "sorry to disappoint, sammy," he said, emphasis heavy on the nickname, his eyes settling on the door again. he coughed, nodded his head. "hey, uh, alex."

you bit your lip to stifle a laugh, shared a look with jack, who touched your shoulder lightly. just to say are you getting this? just to say i'm right here with you. as if you'd forget.

sam spun around to face alex, who stood on the front steps, hands in the pockets of his shorts. he wasn't looking at sam, though. he was glaring daggers at quinn, who was acting oblivious, practically humming contently in his seat.

"excuse me?" sam's voice was pitched. "what the hell are you wearing?"

your eyes widened as you registered the front of alex's t-shirt. it was a pretty pale yellow, with some bid day slogan on it, over three identical triangles. alex was wearing something tri delt.

you felt jack lean forward, his mouth right by your ear. "that from this year's bid day?" he asked. you nodded slowly, so as to let the scene unfold in front of you without disruption.

alex just looked down at his shirt, shrugged, appeared to be the picture of confidence, even arrogance. "what's the big deal?"

sam rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest. "tri delt, al, really?" sam sighed, then began to pull at the sleeves of her own sweatshirt, tug it over her head. of course, she was wearing only a bra underneath. of course, she didn't care.

quinn laughed, let out a whistle.

jack's laugh shook through you as he leaned forward, rested his forehead on your shoulder blade. you grinned at the intimacy of it, of letting him hide his laugh in you.

sam exhaled again, her sweatshirt now in her hand, which she extended to alex as she fixed her glasses. "here," she said, impatient.

alex narrowed his eyes, took the blue mass of fabric, pulled it over his head.

sam didn't wait to see him put it on, like she didn't need to check, instead turning on her heel, in pajama pants and pretty much nothing else, and began to walk back towards the a phi house. she gestured your way, "let's go, you," she ordered.

you scurried to grab your bag, pushed up on your feet, touched your fingers to jack's chin, lightly, before making to follow her. "movie tomorrow?" you asked, emboldened by hours of comfort, of being made to feel comfortable.

"yes, please," jack said, and the way he smiled up at you was something of dreams. "i'll text you, yeah?" you nodded, turned to run after your roommate.

"pleasure as always, madam president," nico called out from the couch, to which sam scoffed.

you caught up with her, hugged her into your side. "feeling feisty, eh?" you asked.

"tri delt," she said, biting, "what a moron, honestly. who does he think he is?"

you laughed. "i don't think he's thinking about anyone in tri delt, right now," you tried.

"and don't think we're not talking about you," she said, wagging a warning finger at you, "disappearing for hours, just for me to find you in the lap of a," she gasped dramatically, for emphasis, "frat boy!"

and you did talk about it, later, in the comfort of your room. you talked about jack, and how special he made you feel, and how patient he was with you, and how different he seemed.

and you talked about how scared you were, how you were so worried that as soon as you gave him any more of you, he'd take it all and run like blue and red flashed in the rearview. how you were more scared now, probably than ever before, because of how ready you were to give him whatever he wanted, and after such a short time of knowing him, too. to give him all of you, if he asked.

or, at least, to give him enough of you that, if he did run, he would leave nothing left.

sam listened, and asked questions, and talked for a long while, but the gist of it was that sometimes good things are scary. sometimes to be scared is to care, and sometimes to care is to be human.

"jesus, just look at me," she said, "make a fool out of myself on the daily for that scumbag, and look where it gets me." she sighed. "minus one sweatshirt and plus one poor boy calling me sammy."

you laughed. "you're a lot of things," you mused, "but you're no fool."

unlike you, foolish one, some voice in your head taunted, low and mean. your nose twitched.

sam hummed. "so, i should be out of the room tomorrow night?"

you groaned, hung your head in your hands. "it's a terrible idea, right?" you asked. "of course he's going to think something specific when i asked him to watch a movie at my place, hm?"

she just laughed at your anguish, put her hands up in surrender. "hey, you asked him," she pointed out. "not like he snapped you u up? at three a.m."

you scrunched up your nose. "i guess," you said.

"you make the rules," sam reminded you, "you set the pace." she fixed you with a look. "but you seem to like the fast track, love." she gestured to her cheeks. "you're glowing with it."

and maybe she was right. but you didn't feel like you were glowing, the following night, the night jack was supposed to come over.

you'd fussed over your hair and your clothes and your general being, made and remade your bed, folded all the clothes in your closet, as if he would be doing a thorough inspection.

you felt scattered, scared, so devastatingly nervous. you caught a glimpse of yourself in your mirror, almost flinched at the lack of confidence you found, the physical embodiment of anxiety. it seemed to web under your eyes like spiders, seemed to coat your skin like dull plaster.

it was sort of odd you felt so anxious, you thought, because you trusted jack. you trusted him so much, so truly. brutal memories had your sense of security all twisted around, though. at the moment, you couldn't quite grasp his lips against your temple, you couldn't tangibly touch his kind smile, didn't have the echo of his reassuring words in your ear.

you just felt crazy. crazy for wanting to trust him, somehow even more crazy for not being able to just let go. how badly you wanted to let go of the past, of your insecurities, of your fears.

it was almost like you were being pulled between two realties. you felt the stretch in the lines on your palms, in the seam of your mouth, in your breastbone. it was a pull between the kind of fear you found some deranged sort of certainty in and the future, what could be, what you could almost taste, if you'd just let yourself relax. if you'd only let yourself enjoy it.

why do you have to remember every embarrassment and failure? some voice in your head screamed, why can't you just be normal? you swallowed around your sadness, because he'd probably want someone normal, right? he probably wouldn't want you.

as if summoned by your despair, your attention was pulled upwards by a knock on your window, a few quick raps. you squinted, were shocked to find jack's pretty face on the other side of the glass.

you lived on the first floor, so it wasn't necessarily unsafe, or anything, but the front door was right there, and he was early. he was early, and you looked like a mess, felt like an even bigger one.

still, you walked over to the window, pulled it open. "what're you doing?" you asked, cleared your throat to hide the shake in your voice.

his blue eyes flashed with something like recognition, gone again in a moment. "am i too early?" he asked, like some impatient kid on christmas morning. "i can wait by the front door for another hour, if you want." you could have sighed in his voice, this specific tone that calmed you like lavender, the one that was almost making fun of you, but not quite.

even in your chaotically disorganized state, you just left the window open, stepped back. "'course you can come in now," you said, welcoming him in. you gave him a bit of a laugh, but it sounded kind of sad as it came out. "'m sorry about all this," you said, giving a rough gesture to your room, yourself, as you sat at the foot of your bed. "i'd probably have fixed it by the time you were supposed to get here."

he climbed into your room, and the sight was so intimate it made your chest contract. when he looked up at you, confusion dripped down his gaze like candle wax. "what do you mean?" he asked, coming to sit next to you, warm and easy. "fix what?"

you gave him a half-smile, genuinely believed he was just being polite. "i know i look crazy," you said, running your fingertips under your eyes. "i feel crazy."

his eyes filled with kind concern, not pity, but just care. he tentatively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you into his chest in an embrace that felt like a midday nap, exactly what you needed. "then i'm happy i couldn't stay away, crazy girl," he said, and it was so soft it hurt. "tell me." a request, only because he wanted to know. he wanted to know you.

and, after a sigh, you did tell him, just as you'd told sam. you told him about how scared you were, about how you could feel how he was different, how you knew it like some philosophical principle, but how you were terrified, anyways.

you told him about how dumb, how juvenile and stupid you'd felt, over and over again, just for wanting to be taken seriously, just for wanting someone to deem you worthy of something longer than a night. just for wanting someone to stay. you told him about how you'd had people be so sweet and kind and caring, but they'd still left after they'd gotten what they'd wanted.

and you sort of felt pathetic as you spoke, and you half expected him to laugh, to tell you that you were like every other girl, expecting un-promised things from some poor guy. but, of course, he didn't. of course, he just held you to his chest, listened to you the entire time, his thumb rubbing circles into your upper arm.

"i don't want you to think that i think you're a bad guy," you made sure to say, looking up at him, "and i don't want you to think that i don't care about your life, and your anxieties, and stuff, just because i'm rambling about mine." you let your eyes flood with everything you were feeling. "but i also don't want you to think i'm disinterested, or bored, or something."

he hummed, and it was quiet, for a moment, as your words rolled around his head. "what do you want me to think, then?" he asked, finally, gently.

you leaned your head on his shoulder, thought for a second. "i want you to know that i'm into you," you landed on, and the truth tasted sweet on your tongue. "and i want to ask you to keep being patient with me, please." your mouth quirked up. "like you already are, i guess."

his smile was something dreamy before he pressed his lips to your hair. "how about this?" he said, a murmur, "how about you let me try to convince you i'm staying, hm? trust me to?"

you found yourself nodding.

"and if you want something, you just ask me, okay, baby?" he amended. "ask me, and i'll be here. promise."

you looked up at him through your lashes. "thank you," you breathed, after a pause, because a promise was something special. him being so soft with you was something special, too.

he gave a slight shrug, his smile almost a smirk. "you told me you're into me, baby," he said, like that explained everything.

you just laughed into his shoulder, felt fear melt away, dissolve into the air. "what did you come over for, again?" you joked, because you were supposed to be watching a movie, and instead you'd unloaded all this information on him. instead, you'd told him how you felt.

but he didn't seem to hear the joke in your tone. "to see you," he said, simply, making you flush.

eventually, you watched the second scream movie, which was your favorite, and you asked about his day, and you continued to add to the filing cabinet of information about jack that existed in your mind. eventually, the dim light and night air made your words slow and your eyes droopy. eventually, the two of you fell asleep.

when your eyes fluttered awake, sunlight poured in through your curtains like flour through a sieve. your limbs felt stiff, your neck tight, having fallen asleep in an awkward position, but your head was clear, not foggy at all. you'd slept scarily well.

a slight shift on your mattress drew your attention, and your eyes widened when you registered jack, still asleep, still in the clothes he'd come in last night. you looked around to find your laptop on the floor, jack's sweatshirt halfway off the side of the bed.

checking your phone for the time, you mouthed a curse, because you were already late for your eight a.m. you must have forgotten to set your alarm for this morning. admittedly, you had been awfully busy last night, in a comfortable sort of way. you'd had much more important things on your mind than today's lecture, namely the way jack's voice grew rougher as the hours passed. namely, how he shared things with you like he trusted you with everything, like he knew you'd take care of him.

you silently rose, crept to the bathroom to brush your teeth and quickly get ready. when you emerged again, you were relieved to find his eyes still closed.

he looked so peaceful, like this, so blissful, almost angelic. the morning sun settled on his face, the crown of his head like a halo, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.

as you pulled on a different shirt and shorts, you couldn't help the small smile that stretched across your face. because, you remembered, you'd told him everything, and he had stayed. when you looked over at him, he didn't disappear. he was really, genuinely there, and had felt comfortable enough in your bed, in your space, to fall asleep with his arm under your neck, with his knee grazing your hip.

only when you picked up your backpack did he stir, reaching a hand to rub over his face, stretching with a groan that made you blush. when he retracted his hand, resting it up against your headboard, his sleepy gaze found yours. he smiled, an instinct, a compulsion. you smiled back. "tryna sneak out on me?" he said, yawning halfway through.

you approached the side of the bed he was laying on, by your nightstand, bent down and sat back on your heels so you were close to eye level with him. "no," you told him, honestly. you pushed his hair back from his face, and he hummed at your touch, eyes drowsy, getting used to the light from the window. perhaps still getting used to the light of you. "just didn't want to wake you."

he exhaled, and you felt the heat of it on your arm. "going to class?" he asked.

you nodded, smiled. "but i'll see you later, maybe?" you asked, hopeful. "i'll text you?"

"please," was his reply.

before you pushed up from your knees, though, you bit your lip with indecision. "jack," you began.

"yeah, baby?" he asked, almost confused, certainly intrigued.

"remember when you said to tell you when i want something?" you tone had grown cautious.

"'course," he said, reaching a hand forward, under your chin, to keep your eyes trained on his.

you swallowed, shifted. "i want something."

he smiled, shy, in a flash of teeth, just so, so pleased. "anything," he answered, sleep now gone from his gaze, replaced with something sharper, something beautiful. "anything." he said it like a plea.

you breathed out, searched his eyes, then leaned forward slowly, pressed your lips gently to his. only for a second, soft as anything, barely there, before making to pull away again.

then his broad hand was on the side of your face, though, guiding you back to his mouth, this time harder in commitment but not in force. the positioning was kind of awkward, with him propped up on his elbow, and he tasted a little bitter from the morning, and your heart felt like it was buzzing, but it was perfect. it was perfect, all of it, because it was with him.

no running away, his kiss seemed to scream at you, not from me.

you hoped he could sense your promise by the way you reached an arm around his neck, by the way you relaxed into his mouth, practically a sigh of relief.

he felt like lazy laundry days and laughing in the kitchen and pinkie promises. he smelled like worn-out cologne from the night before. he felt like trust, and belief, and something meaningful. he felt like something, someone, you could get used to. someone you wanted to, at least.

you both pulled away, at some point, only just barely, enough to catch your breath. you ran your nails along the nape of his neck, watched his glossy gaze settle on you.

"'m really gonna be late, now," you said, dumb, but you didn't really care. you had greater things to care about, it seemed.

he laughed, and you felt it in your fingers. "they're lucky they're getting you at all," he said, and it was a rasp. his smile grew lopsided. "or maybe 'm the lucky one."

you gave a slight shake of your head. he just said these kinds of things, and he didn't think about how they'd make your vision spin. how terribly inconsiderate. "i'll see you later?" you clarified, giving his shoulder a squeeze before getting up, lugging your backpack on.

he nodded, still a bit dazed, it seemed.

the thought made you smile. "bye, jack," you said, on your way out.

"bye, baby," he called out after you, a sing-song. you could hear the happiness leaking from his voice, could almost taste it.

time passed quickly and blissfully, from there. the semester began to rush forward in a flurry of classes and chapter meetings and philanthropy obligations, all which were cut with movie nights with jack in your room, nights on which he slept over more often than not (you swore every time he came over he stole a different sweatshirt of yours. your closet was starting to look scarce, but whenever you saw him push the too-tight sleeves up on his forearms, you couldn't find it in yourself to mind), dance class on friday afternoons (you didn't know how someone could be so tragically terrible at ballroom as you seemed to be, but you looked forward to it, all the same), parties at tke on the weekends (you grew to know his friends and brothers and their girlfriends, grew to be a part of their little world).

tonight was one of those parties, and you were in your room, trying to figure out what you were going to wear, before sam burst in the door.

"we're not going," she said, plain and simple, sitting on her bed.

you looked at her with a raised brow. "why not?" your eyes widened. "what did alex do?"

she rolled her eyes. "it's not alex," she explained. "i told nico no more bros and hoes bullshit a long time ago, and he didn't listen." she shook her head, as if disappointed. "what is the theme, if not golf bros and tennis club hoes?"

you gave a light laugh. "so we're actually not going?"

"nope," sam declared, "already put it in the chat. a phi is boycotting."

as if on cue, you received a text from jack that read coming tonight?

haven't you heard, you sent back, a phi is on strike :)

you accepted his almost instantaneous face-time request, grinning as his pretty features filled your screen. "what do you mean you're on strike?" was his immediate question.

"hi to you, too, jack," you teased, your stomach flipping when his eyes filled with something soft.

"hi, baby, 'm sorry," he amended, and his voice was genuine.

you waved his apology off lightheartedly. "i'm under strict presidential orders," you told him, "apparently nico didn't heed the warning about the bros and hoes thing."

jack groaned, then looked away from the screen for a second. "they're not coming," he called out to someone, "like, actually, all of a phi is not coming."

"and we're not budging!" sam called out from her bed.

"is that sam?" came another voice from jack's end. "put her on."

and so the phones were passed to alex and sam, respectively.

"c'mon, sam," alex said, the most emotion you'd heard from him in a while. "you guys need to come out. we need you there."

it was true, sort of. they needed girls there, and a phi was plentiful with pretty smiles and kind laughs.

"no can do, al," sam said, smug. "tke needs to learn their lesson."

alex blinked.

"will you put nico on, please?" sam asked, syrupy sweet. "i have some choice words for him."

"no, you can't talk to nico," alex responded, short.

"what's the deal, madam?" came a very nico-sounding voice, off screen. "it's a good theme, eh? think you'd look great in a tennis skirt."

you rolled your eyes.

"what, won't let him talk without his lawyer present?" sam pressed.

jack's laugh was bright. you felt it through the screen.

"he can talk to you when he puts a shirt on," was the curt response.

you smirked. alex was not doing a very good job of shielding his emotions, not anymore.

"you know me better than that, don't you?" sam asked, almost offended. "not one to get distracted easily by a bare chest."

alex sighed, rubbed a hand over his face.

"are you saying you get distracted by nico's abs, al?" sam continued. "i mean, i get it, even if i can't relate personally."

"you're not talking to him, sam," alex said. "our theme for tonight is not up for debate. it's too late."

sam gave a dramatic sigh, appeared deep in thought.

"well, can i talk to quinn, then?" sam said. "not for any reason, really, just want to see his face."

you bit your lip out of frame, smiled, because you had a feeling jack was doing something similar. you had a feeling that if you were in the same room, right now, you'd be sharing a knowing glance, a hidden laugh. you felt warm with that knowledge.

"quinn's busy," alex bit out. you could almost hear his grinding teeth.

sam just gave a theatrical pout that had you giggling.

"shame," sam said, a winning smile on her face.

you heard alex's deep exhale. "you're killing me, here, beautiful," he said, a sigh. your eyes widened. was alex finally breaking?

sam just hummed. "'s that my sweatshirt you're wearing, al?" she asked. "color looks nice on you."

then she handed the phone back to you, walked from the room, and when you looked down at the screen, alex was gone, too, leaving only the soft slope of jack's nose, messy hair in his face. "hi," you said, a smile bubbling free.

"hi," he parroted. "if you're not coming, then, what're you doing tonight?"

you shrugged. "probably just watching a movie here," you said. "nothing crazy."

his nose twitched, his eyes shone with an unasked question.

"wanna join?" you asked, loving the way his face lit up at your invitation.

he sucked on his teeth, and your stomach coiled with heat at the sight. "think 'm technically supposed to be here," he said, to which you pouted. "but i might be able to sneak out."

"sneak outta your own party?" you asked, a light laugh on your mouth like a sparkly gloss.

"for you," he added, which made your laugh settle into something dangerous.

you scrunched up your face in delight. "'ll leave my window open, then," you said.

"thank you, baby," he said, waited for you to hang up first.

you did leave your window open, let the cool nighttime breeze ease in, blowing your curtains slightly, the edges of your sheets by your feet. you were comfortably on your side, your mind quiet as your eyes lazily took in your computer screen.

the tassels on your drapes seemed to sing at jack's knock on the window pane. the fixtures in your room seemed to relax, the wood of your desk turning malleable, the light on the ceiling to burn hotter, dimmer.

play it cool, you wanted to shush them, the way you whisper to your friends in middle school when your crush walks past your locker, just act normal.

your smile crept up on you, slow and genuine, as he swung his other leg over, shut the window again, immediately kicking off his sneakers and collapsing on top of you, the weight of him almost oppressive against your chest, your face.

you laughed nonetheless, wrapped your arms around his middle to hug him closer, to breathe him in. you felt his neck relax, his heavy head hang just above your shoulder. he let out a breath, like he was exhaling everything heavy. like he was making space for you in his lungs, in his chest, in his being.

you rubbed gentle circles into his back over his sweatshirt. "successful jailbreak?" you murmured, your voice muffled into his chest.

he pressed his lips to your shoulder, gently, before rolling off of you, soft as anything but sparking heat between the two of you nonetheless. "you've made a fugitive out of me," he joked, laying an arm over your torso and pulling you into his side.

"sure they won't be missing you?" you asked, brushing his hair from his face. his eyes simmered with something lovely.

he gave a shrug you felt through your whole body. "if i was there, i'd be missin' you," he clarified in explanation. of course, your heart stuttered like a shy kid giving a speech at an all-school assembly.

"i'm glad you're here," you said, soft, the words not feeling like nearly enough. you hooked one leg around his, tangling the two of you further, then rethought your action.

because you'd known guys who'd groan at this kind of thing from you, who would warn you not to start something you couldn't finish, who would call you a tease or something much meaner.

but, of course, jack did no such thing. he just relaxed deeper into the position, nodded towards your abandoned computer. "what're we watching?" he asked.

you swallowed. it struck you as weird, that his endless patience and kindness sparked something hot in your stomach, that you wanted to give him anything and everything, all because he would never demand it of you.

his hand on your back suddenly felt heavy, his leg under yours too warm. you hummed, tilted your head up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

you could feel him smile against your lips. "what's that for, baby?" he asked, rough.

"for you," you answered, simply.

you felt his pleased exhale in your bones as he took your chin in his hand, led your mouth to his in a deeper kiss, this time, one that felt like coffee mugs with lipstick on the rim, like good morning texts before you wake up, like burning fireplaces in the winter, fragrant and lively. "so sweet for me, baby," he mumbled against your mouth.

you sighed, ran your fingertips along his jaw, found courage in the blue of his eyes that willed your nerves away. "can i have something, please?"

"anything," he answered, softly, immediately, as he always had.

you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, wondering what you were actually asking for. "i just want," you started, uncertain, then started again. "just-"

you cut yourself off with a shaky exhale, reaching an arm around his neck, shifted your body until you were on top of him, kissed him with something feverish in your veins. he let out some kind of whimper-ish sound, so strained, so desperate, as his hand found your hips, held you to him with intention.

you kissed him like you were burning, like you needed him to taste the flame of your want, like your desire was some burden you couldn't possibly shoulder alone.

he didn't seem to mind, anyways, quite the opposite - he kissed you back like he'd take anything you'd give him, like the fire you were exuding was water in a drought, like you were some fabled savior. like you were saving him.

you pulled gently at the hem of his pink sweatshirt, or yours, rather, withdrew slightly to help him tug it off. he was so beautiful, always, but especially now, glowing in the light of your bedroom, flushed entirely because of you, eyelids heavy with attraction.

you stilled, straddling his hips, his back against your headboard as you traced the veins in his arms with your fingertips.

his thumbs slipped under your sleep shorts, rubbed feather-light circles into the flesh of your hips. "tell me what you need, baby," he said. "whatever you want, swear it."

you bit your lip to dull your smile, because you realized, in that moment, that there was no semblance of fear in your mind. not even a drop of doubt. you knew, that no matter what you gave to him, no matter how much of yourself you offered up, he wouldn't leave you, dumb and ashamed, standing alone in some taunting doorway. he'd stay.

the fact made unfiltered want flow through you, powerful as a river after heavy rain.

you met his gaze with a confidence that hadn't been there in a long time, that he seemed to pull from you with ease. you rocked your hips against his lap, relished in the strain you saw in his eyes. "wanna feel you inside me," you rasped, continuing to shift back and forth. "wanna make you feel good, hm?"

you felt his groan in your teeth as he flipped you on your back in a single, swift motion, left messy, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck. he didn't saw anything about how long he'd been waiting, about how long you'd made him wait, and you had a feeling it was because he genuinely didn't care.

you had a feeling the only thing he cared about, in this current moment, was the feeling of your collarbone under his teeth, the way your hands rooted in the curls of his hair, the not-nearly-enough friction of his grinding hips against yours.

you both twisted and tugged clothes aside, hurried, almost crazed, until you could take him in your palm, hard and hot, run your grip up and down his length, urging a groan from his throat that you wanted to taste. his exhales were so, so labored as his hips jerked towards you involuntarily.

your eyes widened, because you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be with someone like this, to be with someone whom you trusted entirely, someone whose pleasure you could feel as deeply as if it was your own. it made your blood feel volcanic as it beat from your heart.

"please, jack," you begged, and his overwhelmed gaze found yours, again.

"i know, baby," he cooed, running his fingers through your folds, cursing under his breath at how wet he found you, from barely being touched. all from him. your grip around him faltered as he pushed two fingers inside of you, the stretch immediate. "i know." you cursed, shut your eyes as he thumbed your clit, making your breath feel heavy in your mouth. he retreated further. "just wanna taste you first, baby, please?"

you just nodded, perfectly happy to give him any he wanted. then his mouth was on you, his tongue slow, methodical, as you tugged at his hair, your face pinched in pleasure.

pressure coiled inside of you as he pressed his tongue flat against your clit, making your back arch up of your bed, the friction dreamy.

the weight of him pressed your hips down, heightening the sensation, making each motion of his fingers feel like an eruption of flame, each swipe of his tongue feel monumental.

you choked out a whine of his name, pulled on his curls just a little harder, lewd, slick noises echoing in your ears. "more," you breathed, to which he groaned, rocked his hips against the bed, desperate for some kind of friction, some kind of relief. the sight had you clenching around his fingers.

"not enough?" he asked, his voice gentle, the fervor of his motions anything but. "need more, do you, pretty thing?" you nodded, whimpered a please, which had him pulling his deft fingers from you, shifting closer to you. he angled his cock to your core, held your hips down with his other hand. he hummed. "you can have it, baby."

your eyes fluttered shut as he began to push inside of you with a moan that you swore made your lampshade blush, made the conservative hangers in your closet shake their heads, disappointed. you grasped at his forearm with a reaching hand, fisted the other in your cotton sheets, the texture heightened in your palm.

you felt the stretch everywhere, half expected your bedroom to crack in half, to feel the pressure just as acutely as you did. "almost there, baby, 'atta girl," he bit out, "fuck, feel so good for me."

you whined at his words, at the feeling of him all the way inside of you, that perfect stretch that gave way to something deliriously good as he began to move and in out, slow, deep.

you felt your eyes roll back, as if in slow motion, as you dug your nails into his arm, shuddered at the sensation as he pressed your hips harder into your mattress. "'s so deep, jack, fuck," you breathed, careful as a wince.

he held the top of your headboard with a steady grip, increased his pace. when he spoke, his voice was gritty. "that okay, baby?" he asked, shifting your hips to make you more comfortable, to make the angle feel better. "how's that?"

"so good," you moaned, raw, "feel you everywhere."

and it was true. he thrust in and out of you at a mind-numbing pace, with an intensity that burned through your body. time seemed to freeze, or maybe to liquify, to flow like molten rock. to scatter into oblivion, marked in breathy pants and strained moans, desperate kisses and tired muscles instead of minutes and seconds.

at some point, he took his hand off of your headboard, brought it to his mouth, bit down, as if to stifle a groan, as if to distract himself, last longer for you.

the thought shot right to your core, made your head spin faster, that his pleasure might run so deep, because of you, that he needed a distraction from it.

you moved your hand to your clit, rubbing carefully, moaning at the stimulation, which made you clench down, grip him in a maddening kind of way.

he gave a choked moan. "fuck," he grunted. "can't, jesus, can't do it, baby, so wet for me." his voice was a tortured sort of overwhelmed as his hips sputtered, as his pace continued, harder, faster.

he made to look away from you, maybe to sink his teeth into the flesh of his hand, again, but you wouldn't let him, instead reaching up to pull his fingers to your own mouth, press them against your tongue, soothe the angry red mark that had begun to show.

you swore your mind was somewhere else, somewhere shiny, somewhere sleepy, as you felt his stomach and thighs contract, firm and wiry.

"won't last like this, pretty thing," he breathed, a slight sheen on his collarbones, his forehead, shimmery under the overhead light. "so close, baby, feel too good for me." his exhale was unsteady. "so perfect like this."

"want it," you whined, so impossibly close, yourself. "need it so bad, baby, please. want all of it." your eyes met his. "need you."

he seemed to shatter at your words, at your request, his high, warm and hazy, triggering your own, a blur of whines and pleases and his hot breath at your temple, an all-consuming wave that had your vision blurring, had you clenching down on him so tightly.

he collapsed on top of you for the second time that night, this time his skin glowy and damp, the air sticky and humid as you both let your breathing normalize again, as you let your eyes flutter open.

he rolled to your side, refusing to unclasp his arms around your back, consequently pulling you to his chest, your nose against his breastbone. you traced a hand along the top of his spine, so perfectly content, so wonderfully blissful.

with anyone else, now would be the time when the anxiety really set in. now would be the time that the furniture started to hiss at you to get out.

such anxiety was nowhere to be found, though, not now. not with him. his rough hands felt soft on your back as he shifted deeper into your bed, making himself comfortable, making you comfortable, too, in succession.

and even though you knew it, he knew you, just so, so well. "'m staying," he whispered into your hair, "long as you'll let me."

your heart was pink jello in your chest. you pressed your swollen lips to his shoulder. "i'll let you," you promised.

and so your self-proclaimed frat-boy-ban was broken, completely done away with, replaced instead by the most delicious stability.

the already fast-paced semester was made a fairytale blur by your beautiful exception, in all of his endless kindness, his unrelenting loveliness.

how many afternoons did you spend in his lap, out on his front lawn? how many nights did you fall asleep together, tangled up in each other? how many parties started with his hat backwards on his head, but ended with it on yours, instead? when did you start to leave your window open, every night? how many mornings did he surprise you with coffee, remembering your order like it mattered, simply because it was something you'd told him? how many times did his beauty and thoughtfulness surprise you, again and again?

like the time you went with him to a baseball game, an away one, this time, to support his friends and brother, when you insisted that you'd drive. you'd had to stop for gas, halfway through, gotten out of your truck, had only just stuck the nozzle in before he'd come around the side to lean against the door.

you had felt yourself raise a brow, almost confused. "sort of a one person job," you'd joked, to which he'd smiled, leaned back further against the side, just waiting with you.

like he couldn't bear to sit in the passenger seat, alone, not when you were out here, hands idle.

or like the night of your ballroom dance midterm performance, in front of an audience (an audience that included a lot of your friends). you'd stumbled halfway through the steps, nothing crazy, but certainly enough to notice. your face had grown hot, an embarrassed strawberry-milk flush.

but then, across the stage, jack had tripped over his own feet, in a way that looked pretty intentional, if you thought so yourself, as if he wanted to draw everyone's attention for a moment. as if he wanted to keep any potentially judgmental eyes off of you. he caught your knowing gaze as he pushed himself off of the floor, shot you a cheeky wink.

or, like tonight, a phi's blind date formal. this event was always a highlight of the year, at the very least always entertaining, always a good source of drama, of gossip, for a few weeks following.

planning it was a nightmare, from what sam had told you, a disorienting flurry of spreadsheets and communications with different frats and teams. typically, each house was matched with a frat and an athletic roster, and the dates were assigned from there, based on survey results and different requests.

you were excited for tonight, not nervous at all, because you'd requested jack as your date, and sam practically ran the whole thing, so you knew there would be no surprises.

for you, tonight was just a fun opportunity to dress up, to hang out with your best friends and your favorite boy.

the reveal of the dates was one of the best parts of the night. you'd be called upon to come out the door, and your date was supposed to be standing on the front step to walk you to the venue of the formal, just a few blocks away.

you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, turned to sam as you slung your clutch over your shoulder. "ready?" you asked, to which sam gave herself a spritz of perfume, nodded. you held the door for her. "did you tell me already if you requested somebody?"

she gave you a grin. "quinn," she said, simply.

you laughed. "you're gonna drive poor alex crazy," you chided.

she just shrugged. "he's driving me crazy, more like," she corrected. "all he does is bitch and moan when i mention other guys, then he wears my sweatshirt like it's all he owns, calls me beautiful, all that nonsense." she gave you a look. "i'm losing hope, love. if he doesn't make a legitimate move soon, i might go for quinn for real, just for all his trouble."

when it was your turn to open the front door, you took a breath, turned the handle, weren't surprised to find that familiar figure on the other side, pink flowers in his hand, his suit fitting him so wonderfully, his eyes softening when they caught on you.

your smile came easily, so naturally, as you approached him. he reached an arm around your middle, pulled you into his embrace by the small of your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you pressed your lips to his jaw in greeting before he pulled back.

"let me get a look at you," he said, soft, holding your hand at a distance, giving you a twirl that made you feel like a princess. he whistled. "i'm the one on your arm, tonight, pretty thing?" he asked, his smile toothy. "must be my lucky night."

you flushed with contentment, ducked into his side. "i'm the lucky one," you insisted, before the door opened again, making the two of you move to the sidewalk as he handed you your flowers, which you accepted with bashful thanks.

sam now stood in the open doorframe, but her wandering eyes narrowed when they landed on the curly-haired boy that stood on the front step. "what the hell is this about, alex?" she hissed.

"you look lovely, sam," alex said, undeterred.

"yeah, okay, thanks," sam said, "you know i requested-"

"i know," alex interrupted. "i vetoed your reuqest." he offered her his arm, which she took, lightly, reluctantly.

"that's not how this works," she reminded him, "you don't get a veto."

"i'm the president," he deadpanned, "of course i get a veto."

"i'm the president," sam retorted, "and i requested-"

alex sighed, turned to face sam, placed his palm over her mouth. "stop," he said, short, "talking."

her eyes narrowed, and jack pinched your side as you took in the sight in front of you. you shared an excited look.

"please be my date, tonight," alex asked, removing his hand from sam's face only after her mouth stopped moving. "for real."

after a brief pause, sam's mouth broke into a wide grin as she looped her arm through alex's, fell into step behind you and jack. "get up off your hands and knees, al," she teased, "'course i'll be your date. waited long enough, haven't i?"

it was a storybook sort of night from there, one defined by shared laughter and good music and gushing with your friends about their dresses.

time passed too fast in a blur of dance-floor spins that made the hem of your dress bloom, gentle touches and laughs into shoulders.

at some point, you and sam took a break by the edge of the venue, next to the refreshment table, having promised to bring jack back a drink. sophie approached you. you smiled, having not really seen her since the last chapter meeting.

"hey, sophie," you said, "this dress is stunning on you."

"thank you," sophie said, genuinely, before her eyes flashed. "if you see cole come up behind me, warn me, okay?"

"isn't cole your date, though?" sam asked.

sophie sighed. "technically, yes," she admitted, "but he thinks i requested him, which i didn't, so now he's being especially persistent."

you tilted your head. "so you got paired together because your survey results matched up? completely organically?"

"i guess," she answered, exasperated. "which i don't get, because we have, like, nothing in common."

"you have a little in common," sam said, "you both love baseball. it's, like, all you talk about."

"okay, so we have one thing in common," sophie conceded. "it's a conflict of interest! i'm supposed to be an impartial reporter!"

you shrugged. "impartiality is overrated," you said, and you meant it. now that you'd settled into being completely honest about how you felt, you couldn't imagine it any other way, couldn't fathom hiding that kind of thing from people that mattered.

"code cole, code cole," sam whispered.

"soph, you gotta stop running away from me," cole said, coming up behind her, shooting her that confident smirk. "tirin' me out, love."

sophie sighed, turned to face him, crossed her arms over her chest.

"care for a dance?" cole asked, extending his hand to her.

her gaze dipped to his fingers, then rose again. "i'll dance with you," she said, which made cole light up with excitement, "if you agree to give me at least one objectively useable quote after ever single game for the rest of the year."

cole blew out a breath like it was the easiest decision of his life. "done," he declared. he gave an enthusiastic fist pump when sophie took his hand and led him to the floor.

leaning back against the table, you and sam scanned the room, laughing at trevor's ridiculously bold suit, scoffing at nico, who was dancing with two girls at the same time, sharing a knowing glance when you registered quinn and luke, sitting at a table on the outskirts, luke's tie completely untied, quinn's tied around his head. the two loners appeared to be engaged in a game of cards with their respective dates.

eventually, you made good on your promise to jack, grabbing two drinks. when you turned your back on the table, he was walking up to you, his face pleasantly flushed, eyes so doting. your smile grew as he got closer. your eyes shut, delighted, when he threw an arm around your shoulders.

"there you are, baby," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. you were hit with a dizzying sense of deja vu, knowing you'd been here before, knowing so much had changed since the last time you'd been in this position. "thanks for holding my drink for me."

you smiled up at him, leaning into his side, warm and firm against you. it was something magnificent, to have it not be an act, this time. to have it be completely genuine. to have it be real.

"of course, baby," you said, the slight tease in your tone made shimmery by the glint in his gaze.

he hummed, moved his arm down to wrap around your waist, pull you against him as he swayed back and forth to the music. you exhaled, so utterly at peace, relaxed into his chest, tilted your head back to look up at him. he met your gaze eagerly, that smile you so adored overtaking his face like a mural on the side of a building. "what?" he asked.

you shook your head, laughed lightly. because what, really? how could you sum it up? "you," you answered, honestly. "just you."

how could you sum him up? he was one million things. your pretend boyfriend in the face of campus security. your ballroom dance partner. your movie-night, good-morning text, sweatshirt stealer. your window-climber, baseball-watcher, owner of your favorite smile. your tke boy. your exception.

he was one million things, but, when he leaned down to press his lips to your hair, he was only one.

yours.

fin.

#hockey #hockey smut #nhl #smut #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #nhl smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #luke hughes #nico hischier #alex turcotte #cole caufield

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koifish67 · 6 months

Text

kissing headcanons with the Overwatch boys

Tw:none

Junkrat

Sloppy af, mf doesn’t know how to kiss

Leaves the bottom half of your face wet and he looks so overly proud

When you finally teach him he’s just quick and desperate, still leaves your lips a bit of a mess

Cole Cassidy

Long, loving kisses, very sensual and gentle

Touches your jaw and pulls you in, keeps his hands on you when he does

Doesn’t do little pecs it’s either long kisses or no kisses

Roadhog

Doesn’t usually kiss you, he LOVES you don’t get me wrong but he isn’t a touchy person

Usually quick and simple, a little pec on your forehead

When you do get more sensual its still quick, just on your lips.

Ramattra

Googled how to kiss people only to find out you had to have lips to actually do that.

He doesn’t really kiss but instead puts his face plate against your forehead.

You notice his fan starts to turn on so he doesn’t overheat

Reinhardt

Quick pecs all over your face, usually grabbing your cheeks and squishing them while he does.

He’s very straight forward and kisses you when he feels like later in the relationship

When he kisses you on the lips it’s quick and he still squishes your cheeks

Genji

Gets all giddy and excited, holds your hips and kisses you sweetly and gentle.

Makes you give him a kiss before every mission for good luck.

Also googled how to kiss you and zenyatta caught him, giggled at him for a bit

Zenyatta

Similar to his brother, he pressed his face Oleg against your forehead, or he’ll press his face plate to your jaw, very soft *clinks*

His orbs kinda shake a bit, kinda like his version of blushing

Sometimes pulls you on his lap when your alone and kissing, make sure to warm himself so he isn’t cold

Hanzo

Awkward a first, but over time he takes his time and savories it, taking everything in.

Puts his hands in yours or touches your face with his fingers

Dipped you once to kiss you out of surprised but he dropped you by accident and never forgave himself for it, never does it again

Lúcio

Gets amped up and all excited, kind of sloppy but there loving at the same time. Squishes your cheeks to

Always says he just wants one pec but it turns into a makeout, forgot what he was going to do beforehand

Lifts you up half the time and kisses you as a surprise

Reaper (Gabriel)

Old man knows how to smooch ngl, deep and sensual kisses, pulls you in by your chin and puts his hand on your waist

HES 58???!??

Doesn’t kiss you if there’s anyone around, he wants to put his “cool mysterious guy” look on

Gets kinda grumpy when he can’t kiss you for long

Soilder 76 (Jack)

Much like reaper, it’s deep and sensual, his lips usually wonder. His kisses are usually LONG

He’s 6’1 so he usually leans down, but if you taller he’ll make you sit down so he can kiss you.

Little pecs at most in public, likes to be professional

Sigma

Another old man

His kisses are gentle, romantic, loving, pure sappy tooth rotting fluff. Pulls your chin towards him.

Floats while he kisses you, so he leans down.

Randomly kisses you when he’s deep in thought and it takes you by surprise

1K notes · View notes

drysdalesworld · 3 months

Note

i loved what you wrote about the boys with super energetic kids but what about them with kids who are the complete opposite? like a very shy, quiet kid

them with a shy, quiet child

i was planning on doing this anyway but i love that you asked for it bc i wasn’t too sure if anyone else wanted that as well. hope you enjoy! <3

the boys with a shy & quiet kid (+ x fem!reader)

the boys with a shy, quiet daughter:

JACK HUGHES

— is so patient & gentle with her it’s crazy

— ^ like he’s so careful with his words when speaking to her & always makes sure that she’s comfortable

— speaks for her when she’s too shy to speak. like when the three of you are out at a restaurant & she’s too shy to tell the waiter what she wants, he’ll do it for her & always makes sure to ask her exactly what she wants beforehand so there’s no mistakes when ordering

— holds her hand when she gets anxious & squeezes it a couple of times to make sure she knows that he’s there for her

— she much prefers you over jack due to how calmer you are as a person but he doesn’t mind at all. if anything, he’s glad that she’s able to find solace in the reader as he can only imagine how hard it is to be shy & quiet as a child

— he genuinely tries to be more calmer & quiet in her presence. it’s a work in progress

— jack often finds himself going to quinn for advice on how to do better with his daughters shy & quietness. he only wants to do good by his daughter & it shows in his actions

— encourages her to speak her truth & speak up for herself when needed. he knows that it’s a hard thing to do but he encourages it by practicing & setting an example with reader as they both openly communicate how they feel to each other

— will literally wear a princess dress to the movies if a new disney movie comes out & she decides it’s her new favorite princess & wants to dress up. he has no shame

— during the summers, he makes sure to lather her in sunscreen. he’s deathly afraid of her burning so he goes the extra mile

— ^ tries to convince her to go wake boarding with him but she always says no. until a couple of weeks into the summer months, she finally agrees & has a blast as jack holds her tightly & does all these cool spins & tricks on the board

— he 100% always joins the readers & their daughters nap times when he gets back home from morning skate. the sight of the two of you wrapped up & cuddled around each other is so cute & makes his heart melt

— jack makes sure to give her a puck before every home game & blows her a kiss before skating off. he also makes sure to dedicate his second goal to her, his first dedicated to you always

KIRBY DACH

— she’s so small in comparison to kirby it’s insane

— he always holds her close wherever they go together. since you both live in montréal, & it’s cold, he always bundles her up so it’s quite funny to see him carrying just a ball of wrapped baby

— kirby’s so much more gentler & quieter with her. he can definitely tell when she’s having a more quiet day & is the best in making her comfortable

— 100% tries to help with her shyness by signing her up in sports or other activities to try to get her out of her shell

— ^ you once suggested summer camp & kirby was super hesitant about it but she ended up loving it so much that she couldn’t wait for the next summer. kirby lowkey felt sad at that bc all he wants to do is spend time with his baby girl & her going off nearly every summer for however many weeks just goes to show how much she’s growing

— whenever she gets nervous or eerily quiet, he holds out his hand for her & just dance around with her. it never fails to put a smile on her face & always gets her out of her funk

— kirby made her a bracelet when she was younger & she wore the shit out of it. it’s now just string but she always played with it whenever she got nervous or approached a new person at school in hopes of being their friend. she still carries it around with her for comfort

— is so supportive in whatever she does

— ^ she wants to play pickleball instead of hockey? he’s already checking out all the gear she’ll need. decides last minute to wear a princess dress instead of her school uniform? he’s asking her which dress she wants. she wants to try to make a friend by herself at the park? he’s sitting back & observing w/ a smile on his face

— kirby’s very big on communication so he always makes sure to check in on her & her feelings. it’s gotten to the point where she’ll just tell you how she feels instead of reader or kirby having to ask

— is also the type of dad to have matching costumes with his daughter

— ^ one year they went as (pink) kirby & princess daisy. it was so fucking cute. it’s one of your lock screens in your phone hehe

— is the one to wake her up in the morning & ease any anxiety she has about school or making new friends

— ^ he’ll brush back the hair from her face & softly speak to her as she voices her concerns & he’s so good at proving that she has nothing to be afraid of. he also makes sure that she’s confident in whatever she wears so kirby allows her to choose her outfits (she’s a little fashionista fr)

NICO HISCHIER

— mans will be the gentlest giant with her

— ^ cuddles 24/7 & nothing but affirmations from this man

— he can understand how hard it is to be so shy & quiet so he always tries his best to make little goals with his daughter in hopes of breaking her out of her shell

— ^ he’ll ask her what she wants to achieve that day on their way to school. it can be anything ranging from making a flower crown to asking someone to play with her during playtime. he’s always so proud of her when she runs up to him after school with the biggest smile on her face, telling him what she achieved that day

— nico’s heart always warms whenever he sees reader & their daughter together. she’s a lot like you & he’s so proud & thankful that he’s been blessed with this kind of life

— encourages her to go to practices with him whenever she’s allowed to

— is def the dad to be up on the stage with his daughter during her ballerina recital

— takes her to new places for exposure & although it’s nerve racking for the both of them, it’s something that neither of them will forget bc of the fun memories

— she does eventually “grow out” of being quiet & shy. she’s got a lot more tools to work with when she’s anxious or feeling shy & nico is always there to help her whenever she needs it

— plays with her hair when he sees that she’s going back into her shell

— ^ he allows her to do so most days but he knows the importance of building up your confidence when young & making friends so he plays with her hair for a bit while he talks to her to bring back up her mood. it usually works

— 100% the one to talk to her about her anxieties & make her feel better about them after

— nico tries everything to get her more out of her shell. he puts her into sports he thinks she’ll enjoy. makes sure she goes to her classmates birthday parties. all that stuff with different goals in mind so even if she doesn’t make a new friend, she’ll still have something to be proud of herself for

TREVOR ZEGRAS

— tbh, he has no clue what to do lol

— he’s learned a great amount of patience with his daughter

— he def tries to understand why she’s so quiet & shy. this leads him to reading about it more & seeking out answers on what he could do to accommodate her more

— trev 100% had to go to jamie for help since they’re both alike in personality. he’s such a big help

— will do anything to protect her & make sure she’s comfortable

— ^ whether that be in his arms or by herself, he’s ready to do whatever

— practices speaking up for herself. trevor will be so much more talkative about how he feels & what he’s doing throughout the day w/ her that she’ll eventually pick up on it & do it herself

— ^ if she’s not confident enough to verbalize it, she’ll write it & sometimes he & her go back & forth with letters. reader got the whole family a notebook so they all can communicate through that if verbalizing it is too hard

— mans literally shed a tear when she made her first friend

— the entire ducks team adore her

— let’s her take the reins in some things. it gives her the confidence to do things for herself & he can see the change in her behavior when she has more control over certain choices

— if she’s feeling shy or anxious, trevor will suggest they play hide ‘n seek or another game to get her mind off things or to simply just make her laugh & have a good time

— always on high energy when he wakes her up & sometimes she bounces off him with it but most often, she doesn’t so he has to check himself a lot & be a lot more calmer around her in the morning

the boys with a shy, quiet son:

JAMIE DRYSDALE

— is so happy to have a kid just like him. he literally looks just like jamie & acts like him it’s kind of eerie

— before jamie leaves for morning skate, he always presses a kiss to the crown of his sons forehead, whispering a promise of coming back & waking him up for breakfast

— ^ jamie takes great pleasure in waking up your son every morning after he returns from morning skate. he just looks so cute with his dark hair all sprawled about, still wiping the sleep from his eyes as he reaches out for his dad. jamie always chuckled to himself as he takes his son into his arms & rubs his back soothingly, making his way out to the kitchen where you are

— you & jamie are one of the only people your son plays with so it’s always a hassle to try to encourage him to play with other children his age

— ^ the one time it works is when jamie took him to the park & started talking to one of the other dads there. his son saw him talking to someone new so he decided that if his dad can do it, then so can he. he made two friends that day & they regularly go on play dates

— you always encourage both jamie & your son to be more friendly & talkative as you know it would most likely help them break out of their shells a little bit

— he put your son into hockey in hopes of him coming out of his shell a little bit & it def worked. jamie sometimes has to drag your son off of the ice bc he doesn’t want to leave just yet

— he’s really only friendly to certain people like trevor or mason since he’s known them since he could remember. it’s just other people he’s super hesitant about but both him & jamie are working on it together!

— loves loves holding him & taking him everywhere

— he always talks to him too about whatever & his son usually responds talking about something random. it’s how he developed his rambling habit whenever he meets new kids lol

— when he got traded, jamie was really nervous to see how your son reacted to the change since it was so sudden & abrupt. but he surprisingly took it really well. he even said hi to some of the other players after the game, head buried into readers collarbone as he waved to those walking passed him

— ^ the flyers def love your son & always include him on their “barking”. once he gets comfortable enough, he just kind of screams instead of barking but the whole team just eats it up & loves it, cheering him on

LUKE HUGHES

— he & his son are one in the same

— ^ they have the same facial expressions for everything & it’s too funny when they overhear someone saying some random shit & make the exact same face

— your son may be shy & quiet but he’s also calm & mellow. he speaks through his eyes & facial expressions

— ^ has a rbf & is not afraid to use it (especially if someone’s bothering him or you lol)

— reader 100% believes that her son is an old soul & is just done with living. like little dude barely tries to make friends (granted he is shy & it’s a little difficult for him) & just doesn’t have much to say & when he does, he has you reevaluating your life after a conversation

— lukes fav thing to do with his son is put a shit ton of blankets on the couch, make a fort, & watch his favorite movies while snacking on mac n cheese & homemade cookies. they do it nearly every night luke’s home

— he’s super gentle & patient with him as he tries to navigate his shyness. luke encourages him to make friends but doesn’t pressure him at all & also puts him into sports in hopes that he makes them naturally through that

— ^ & it does work! he’s made so many friends through hockey, soccer, baseball, etc.. although he is still quite shy & quiet during his games, which he is actively working on

— whispers to him when he’s overwhelmed & rubs his back in comfort as his son crawls into his arms

— puts him to bed & reads him bedtime stories

— at the lake house, luke is ever the more observant & cautious with his son. he makes sure to put sunscreen on him & that he always has his hat on to protect him from the sun

— ^ when he asked luke if he could go wake boarding with him, he nearly squealed in excitement. his son doesn’t really feel comfortable trying new things so this is a HUGE step in the right direction. holds onto him so tight as he giggles whenever luke does tricks. he has such a blast

QUINN HUGHES

— these two are a mirror image of each other it’s insane

— ^ ellen pointed it out to you a few weeks after you had given birth & you can’t unsee it (your son & quinn are twinsies fr)

— even tho his son is shy, he highly encourages him to make some friends in pre-k but assures him that he should take it day by day & that he’ll always love him no matter what

— definitely tries to make him less anxious by taking him in his arms & giving him raspberries in his neck or on his stomach. it helps take his mind off of whatever he was thinking about

— his son always wants to see him right after quinn’s games, which isn’t always possible so sometimes he has him join him for interviews. just quinns presence makes his son calm

— ^ quinns def encouraged him to answer or speak into the mic & his son is always a blushing mess after he says hi into it, hiding his face in the crook of quinns neck as everyone awes

— quinn always has a hand on his son. whether it be on top of his curly hair or on his back as his soothingly rubs it. he always has to have a hand on your son as quinn knows that he’s his son safe person. it makes the both of them feel better

— always tries to include him in everything (when it’s appropriate) so he’ll def bring him to events or practices. it exposes him to more things & it eases his sons anxiety with stuff like that

— 100% does arts & crafts with him. it’s so fucking cute istg

— when he’s old enough to understand certain words, quinn will tell him about his struggles with being a quiet child as well. he wants his son to know that he’s not alone & never is

— gets him a bear that has a voice recorder in it with the both of you saying “we love you bud! you got this!” that he plays every morning & it 100% makes him feel better about whatever he was worried about

— his son’s biggest cheerleader fr

— ^ the loudest you will ever hear quinn be is at his sons sports game or when he gets an award. he’s so proud of him & all of his progress, no matter how great or small

LUCA FANTILLI

— is off the walls ecstatic to just have a child really

— loves him either way

— luca is definitely his sons safe person so luca always has him in his arms or has a hand on his head as he clings onto his leg

— always refers to him as “buddy” or “my little buddy”, which gets him out of his shell sometimes since he wants to be just like his dad

— so so patient & understanding

— ^ will sit by his son as he’s trying to express himself without feeling nervous & lets him take his time. also helps him through his emotions as well

— encourages him to practice his “social skills” on him so he can remember what to say or do when he wants to make a new friend

— takes him to practice when allowed & just lets him chill or play around with the pucks

— ^ the entire umich team loves loves your son & although he is shy, they always make an effort to talk to him or fist bump him every time they skate by him. they respect his boundaries 100% too

— ^^ monday questions with him is always 50/50. sometimes he’ll be up for it & other times he won’t. but when he is, he’s so cute & giggly as he answers the question (most definitely copying his dads answer)

— reader is the one to wake him up more often than not & he much prefers it that way. you’re much calmer than luca at times so your son loves to just cuddle up to you as you pick him up & make your way to the kitchen where luca is making breakfast

— luca has him do the “shakes” whenever he’s feeling anxious about something

— ^ he told his son that it helps with getting the nerves out & he’ll absolutely just start shaking his arms or whole body out of nowhere to get rid of them

— the king at back rubs fr

— gets all papa bear when he hears from his sons teacher that some kids were making fun of him for being so quiet. luca literally gives a stern talking to to their parents & tells his son that bullies only do that to make themselves feel better since they feel “bad/insecure” about themselves. him being shy & quiet is something that he shouldn’t be ashamed of as it is apart of him & luca & reader love every inch of their son, no matter what

— posts “ootd” stories on his insta & hypes up his son as he poses & giggles

— always makes sure to shower his son in praise whenever he achieves a goal or makes a new friend. he’s so excited for his little buddy & his progress!

COLE CAUFIELD

— is surprisingly good at this for some reason

— knows all the tricks to encourage his son to get out of his shell & interact with others

— ^ you’re suspicious of him sometimes bc whatever he does or suggests always works. it’s like he’s psychic or something

— if he’s not having a good day, cole will gather his son in his arms & hold his close to his chest. sometimes he even puts his sweatshirt over him as he’s wearing it so he feels even safer

— cole throws ice cream parties whenever his son makes a new friend or talks to someone for longer than five minutes

— ^ you think it’s a bit excessive but start to see the progress he’s making in breaking through his shell so you don’t stop cole from continuing to throw them. you eventually find it super cute & heartfelt

— def encourages him to find something he’s passionate about to take his mind off whatever he’s feeling anxious about. sports is something he wants to try so cole sort of threw him into whatever sport he thought he’d enjoy

— ^ soccer is something your son enjoys as communication has to be constant between all the players & it encourages him to be more vocal

— is really good at implementing coping techniques/mechanisms for his son if he ever needs them. lowkey a therapist fr (he’s got extensive knowledge about this shit that you sometimes wonder what cole would be like as an actual therapist)

— gets super excited when he does something out of his comfort zone & makes sure his son knows how proud of him he is

— is super patient & understanding

— it’s a tradition for cole to take him to practice once or twice a month (or week) & the boys absolutely love your son!

— ^ little dude is a completely different person on the ice it’s insane. all of his shyness & quiet tendencies disappear & he just has so much fun that it sometimes makes cole tear up with pride & happiness

712 notes · View notes

mouschiwrites · 4 months

Note

Hey! Can I request head canons about the ninja finding the reader (their partner) wearing their clothes?

Finally getting around to clearing out my inbox! Here ya go, friend!!

Ninjago - Ninjas Finding You in Their Clothes

Kai

He notices that you’re wearing his shirt the second he walks in the room

He has a very good memory when it comes to what clothes he owns, so when he sees them on you, he knows them in an instant

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe

He lets out a long whistle, startling you

“Looking fine, babe. I like the shirt.”

“Yeah? You like my shirt?”

His smirk grows, and he saunters over to you

His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you into a kiss

He reminds you that it is, in fact, not your shirt

Cue the teasing that ends with you being chased around the house until Kai corners you and tickles you, refusing to let up unless you admit the shirt isn’t yours

As much as he likes seeing you in his clothes, he isn’t going to let you keep them

But he starts asking if you also want one whenever he gets a new clothing item, because he thinks you look totally hot in his clothing style

He just doesn’t want to have to give up any of his clothes; he needs them all to be available 24/7 for ✨fashion purposes✨

Cole

It takes him a second to realize it’s his hoodie you’re wearing

It’s the bagginess that he notices first; he’s a pretty big guy, so his clothes would most likely be at least a little big on you

The longer he looks, though, the more familiar the hoodie becomes

When he finally realizes, a huge grin blooms on his face

He walks up to you and envelops you in a bear hug, lifting you off the ground and swaying back and forth

He is absolutely elated that you’re in his clothes

He likes his clothes, and he likes you, so put those things together…

Perfection in his eyes

When he sets you down, finally allowing you to breathe again, he plants a kiss atop your head

“Please wear my hoodies more often. You look great.”

Even though they don’t fit you too well, Cole’s clothes are very comfy, so you take full advantage of his open-closet policy

What he loves most is getting something back after a while and finding that it smells like you <3

Jay

His initial thought is that you also happen to have a Starfarer shirt

He says as much, but when you give an amused giggle he gets suspicious

Going to his room, he finds his shirt gone

He comes running after you

“Thief! Get back here!”

“Heheheh, no!! It’s comfy!”

When he finally tackles you onto the couch, both of you laughing your lungs out, he peppers your face with kisses

He’s not really all that upset, he was just taken by surprise

In actuality he thinks you look great, and he tells you to keep the shirt

He thinks it’s cute that you borrow his clothes, and he probably tries to return the favor at some point

He’ll be over the moon if you let him wear your clothes from time to time

He’ll be really picky about what he takes, though, so you don’t have to worry about all your clothes suddenly disappearing

Except for hoodies. Lock them away. He will steal them all.

Zane

He notices you in his clothes immediately

He was aware that he was missing a tunic, so he made the connection pretty quickly when he saw you in it

At first he’s just confused

“Are all your clothes unfit for wearing? I did the laundry yesterday—”

“No, I just… wanted to wear yours.”

He’s still pretty confused, but he can tell that you’re happy so he lets it go

He knows it’s some kind of affectionate thing, but he doesn’t understand it personally

He starts purposefully putting some of his clothes in your drawers, just so you don’t have to “steal” them

He doesn’t care when you wear those, but he does get a little irked when you do steal from his wardrobe

Not genuinely upset, though; he just dislikes the confusion of finding something missing

As long as you let him know beforehand, he has no trouble letting you borrow whatever you want :)

And perhaps he’ll even let you keep it…..

Lloyd

Lloyd turns pink in the cheeks when he sees you in his shirt

The corner of your mouth quirks up mischievously when you see this

“Something wrong?”

“That, uh… is that my shirt?”

A smile curves his lips as he says it, but his face is still very much a dark shade of red

He thinks you look fantastic—but that’s only part of the reason that he’s blushing

The idea of you wearing something that he wore…

Indirect hug

He settles down next to you to give you a direct hug too :)

He thinks it’s cute to borrow each others’ clothes

To him it’s a sign of intimacy

So of course you guys set up an open-closet policy, and you guys often lounge in each other’s clothing

Nya

She gets so excited when she sees her shirt on you

She thinks all her clothes are nice, so she’s glad to see that you apparently agree

Enough to have stolen her shirt without asking, anyway

She wraps her arms around you from behind, pinching at the fabric and grinning

“Cute shirt.”

“Isn’t it? I got it from a place called ‘Nya’s Closet.’”

“That’s where all the good stuff is!”

She literally drags you to her room and starts pulling out clothes she thinks you’d look nice in

You guys have a little fashion show that ends late, with clothes everywhere, you in her pjs and her in yours

Needless to say, she’s more than happy to share her clothes

She knows they’re irresistibly stylish; she’s just happy you have good taste

Thanks for reading!! And thank you for your request :) take care duckies!! <33

(divider by saradika)

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brain-rot-central · 4 months

Text

Sex Dreamz

Set pre-first intimacy scene, but after the bite scene so you know he's a vampire.

Rating: E Pairing: Fem!Reader x Astarion Summary: Astarion is trancing but ends up having a sex dream about you both during his trance. His tadpole, unbeknownst to him, begins signaling to you to join in on his dream. The next day, he has absolutely no idea you saw everything the night before, and tries playing it off like he still has the complete upper hand.

Enjoy reading! There's a fun twist in this. 👀

CW: dubcon - inappropriate use of tadpole, voyeurism, accidental voyeurism, not sure if this falls under the bdsm umbrella but I'll flag it, PiV, creampie

Sleep avoids you this night.

Your mind is racing, trying to process all that has happened over the last three weeks. You feel as though you've aged a lifetime in such a small span of time.

A soft rustling from your vampire companion jolts you from your thoughts. He chose to trance tonight, telling you earlier in the evening that he, too, had a lot to take in regarding their journey.

Yet, in the three weeks you've been together, you can't recall Astarion ever being so… animated in this state.

You're human, a soldier for the City Watch. You've little to no idea how trancing for elves works. To you, it's akin to sleeping. Astarion explained it once to you before, but it was in one ear, out the other by the time he reached the conclusion. You still remember the scowl on his face after you'd told him you didn't understand a word he just said.

He was really cute when he got flustered.

You watch him twitch again, his face now bunching up into a wince. Air is pushed from his nostrils in a quick huff as his head comes to rest toward one side. His face relaxes.

Is he… dreaming?

Can you even dream while trancing?

You're about to turn over to attempt some sleep when a warm caress begins to envelop your mind. The tadpole quivers within your skull.

It recognizes the intruder.

“Astarion?” your brain asks. You look over to your companion laying on the ground adjacent to you. You don't receive acknowledgement from him, though the warm embrace still remains.

His tadpole is asking to join yours.

Why would he want that, you wonder? Was he even aware? You close your eyes and lay back, allowing your mind to meld with his.

You're looking up at a young woman on top of you. She's grinding herself in your lap, cheeks stained red by the blush creeping up from her neck. Her lips are puffy, her jaw slack as soft moans fall from her throat with each rise and fall of her hips. Hands are gripping her thighs, fingertips sinking into the plush flesh, helping guide her rhythm.

It takes you a moment to realize that the hands on this woman's thighs are not your own. You look down to the apex of your thighs, astonished to find that this woman was spearing herself repeatedly over a cock, which was, in fact, not your own.

Finally, your eyes move up the woman's body. Her skin was pale and freckled, not unlike your own. Her thighs trailed up to widened hips, her hips narrowing a bit at the waist. Her breasts fall full and heavy from her chest; again, not much unlike your own.

It isn't until you see the woman's hair that it hits you.

This woman wasn't some random woman.

This woman was you.

Another realization washes over you: you're not looking from your own point of view.

You're looking at yourself from Astarion's point of view.

The cock between your thighs is Astarion's.

Astarion is having a sex dream… about you.

You feel everything through your tadpole connection. Your warm, tight, velvet heat pulling on his cock as you bounce in his lap. The weight of your hands splayed on his chest for balance. The sensation under his nails as they dig into the skin of your thighs.

You feel the rhythmic pull behind his pubic bone resonate within yourself. Your own mouth falls open simultaneously with his, his eyes rolling back into his skull behind hooded lids as his hips drive mindlessly into your core, chasing more of the sensation.

He looks down at the place you're joined and groans. You can see how much of a sopping mess he's made you, the length of him slick with your arousal. He places a thumb upon the swollen nub between your thighs, rubbing it in a circular pattern.

You watch through Astarion's eyes as your body convulses at this new sensation, feeling how your walls contract around him. He bends his legs at the knees and briefly places his hands on either side of your waist, tilting you back to rest against the tops of his thighs.

You throw your head back as his hips piston up into your core. He's gritting his teeth now, jaw tense as the coiling in his lower abdomen winds tighter. Your hands fly to the tops of his knees to hold yourself steady, a string of moans falling from your lips as the head of his cock catches repeatedly on that one spot that makes your vision turn white.

With one well angled thrust you're suddenly hanging over him, shouting out your pleasure as it rips up your spine. Astarion takes this opportunity to wrap his arms around your upper back, holding you tightly as he fucks you through your orgasm. His lips brush against the crook of your neck and he pants into your skin, leaning your head in a silent offering.

Astarion wastes little time. Shards of ice pierce the supple flesh of your neck as his canines rip through into your vein. You taste your blood on his tongue as it flows freely into his mouth. It's sweet, floral; a rush of heat shoots up Astarion's abdomen and the coil snaps. He's spilling over the edge, your walls still massaging his length with the remnants of your climax. He fucks his spend deeper into you with short snaps of his hips.

He unlatches from your neck, lapping up the small rivulets of blood that seep from your punctures, sighing in satisfaction as he finally lays his head back against the ground under him.

The connection suddenly breaks.

You're laying on your bedroll, as you had been prior, the embers of the fire before you flickering dully. You look over to the vampire laying off to your side. He looks… relieved. His face is relaxed, his breathing at an even tempo. Your eyes travel further down his form and catch the outline of… something, pushing against the front of his breeches.

A damp patch can be seen toward the head of the object; it takes your lust-clouded brain a minute to realize that object was indeed Astarion's cock, and that damp spot was his essence leaking from its tip, surely the result of his recent dream.

Yet, he remains entranced.

Did he really have no idea what just happened? Did he really not know his tadpole had revealed his thoughts?

The next day, while you're making your way to the Goblin Camp, Astarion pulls you briskly to the side. “Darling,” he begins, “I was just thinking about you!”

He continues on, telling you how he's “grown to like the whole package,” tells you he would like to share an evening with you. His voice is posh with a sort of sensuality to it, cool and completely composed.

It dawns on you that he's completely clueless as to what happened the night before. Completely ignorant of the fact that you know how he lusts for you.

You agree to his proposition, and he vows to meet you later tonight at someplace intimate after the others have fallen asleep. The tips of your fingers and toes tingle with anticipation of your fated encounter.

If it's to be anything like his dream, you simply cannot wait for the sun to set.

#astarion smut #astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #drabble #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #smut #this is very very rough #so i apologize for grammar/pacing #i absolutely named this after the j. cole song wet dreamz

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generalllimaginesss · 4 months

Note

"Would you still love me if-" "No, no I wouldn't."

with luke!!! definitely could see him not being able to sleep and just asking the reader in the middle of the night would you still questions, and she would say no after like the fifth question and pull luke closer to her and start brushing her hands through his curls and slowly getting him to fall back to sleep and telling yes i would still love you

This is short, but I thought it was cute! Currently watching the devils and flyers and I saw Luke in the penalty box for tripping I think….it was kinda funny ngl. Hope you enjoy!!

••

For some odd reason you had let Luke convince you that it would be a good idea to set up a tent in the backyard during the middle of summer. Why on earth he wanted to do this? There's no telling what his thought process was, but you agreed under the condition that he would let you drive the boat the next day on the lake.

The ground was hard, even with the cushion of the sleeping bag underneath the two of you. Nothing about this was enjoyable, but you'd do anything for Luke.

After an hour of Luke not shutting up, you were really about to lose it. He kept going on and on about the most random shit and he wasn't getting the hint that you wanted him to zip it. He was currently rambling on about random situations and if you'd still love him.

"What if I was three feet tall...would you love me still?"

"Yes," You internally groaned.

"Oh my God, what if I was allergic to animals. I know you love animals, but would you still love me if we couldn't have any?" He absentmindedly twirled his curls around his finger, snuggling closer to you.

"Yes, Luke. I would love still love you," Your tone was becoming increasingly annoyed, but Luke seemed to be oblivious.

"I would hate to be allergic to animals. Imagine not being able to have a dog," He trailed off.

"Have you seen that trend going around...the one where they ask somebody if they still would love them if they were a worm. Would you?" His voice was loud compared to the peaceful night, the only other thing that could be heard was the crickets somewhere off in the distant.

"I don't even know how to answer that," You rolled over, facing away from Luke.

"Would you still love me if-"

"No, no I wouldn't," Your tone was harsh, cutting easily through the night.

It was quiet for a few seconds, your sudden aggravation catching Luke by surprise. He kept peeking at you from the corner of his eye, wondering if you were going to say anything else.

His eyes quickly cut to the ceiling of the tent when he felt you rustling as you turned to face him and wrap your arms around him. You kissed his temple and ran your fingers through his hair, getting snagged on a couple of tangles he hadn't managed to brush out.

"I love you no matter what, but this hard ass ground and stuffy tent makes me want to drown myself in the lake. I'm doing it for you because I love you and this is something that you wanted. Please shut up and go to sleep so this will be over sooner," Your voiced was low and hoarse, but it caused him to let a belly laugh out.

"Yeah sleeping in here isn't quite like I expected. Wanna go inside?" He turned his head to look at you.

"I thought you'd never ask."

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #luke hughes imagine #hughes brothers #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #nj devils #lh43

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ireneispunk · 19 days

Text

how they hold you x HoTD men

i saw these photosets and could NOT refuse! so here are the HoTD men and how (i imagine) they would hold you included: aemond, daemon, jacaerys, aegon, criston cole, harwin strong

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

+bonus

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lady-ashfade · 8 months

Note

Hi could you please do yandere house of dragon x Helena twin and when Luke takes Aemond eye he also accidentally cut reader neck, and when they everyone’s gathered Alicent going crazy, reader faints making everyone extremely worried. Luke felt terrible ?

More Then A Eye

Yan!Various!HOTD Characters x Fem!Reader

Made this were the reader was the only one injured because that makes it more fun, and also might make a part 2 so that will come into play if I make that. Also feel like if it was just the reader it would be more interesting.

Warnings: Blood, gore, knifes, violence, yandere actions, reader being injured, me going slight into-depth on how the reader gets cut. Pretty much the whole thing.

Reader wants the family to all get along while the chaos is going on. She is sweetheart like her sister, but she doesn’t have the sight as her sister does. So she notices most of what’s happening, the other half of her sister.

Reader stops Aemond from getting picked on when she’s near because she has the power to make the boys calm, and the rest of the family at that. So she can get mad and upset so aemond feels at ease when his sister is around. But all the boys long for her affection and love, so they all cling to her.

The funeral is a very sad time for her since she loved Laena and the thought of her cousins losing their mother. Or her uncle losing his wife.

So to the readers surprise when she see aemond and jace have a small moments it brings a warmth to her chest in this dark time. Hoping that this was the gods way to bring her family together, but her hopes soon vanished when night came.

She had heard the others walk through the hallways as she tried to fall asleep, opening her door and their whispering calls. They got her attention and claimed someone stole vhagar so she went with them.

“I think we need to wake up our parents.” But her words were shoot down as they dragged her through the halls and down through the castle.

As soon as she saw the white hair she knew it was aemond and she wished she stayed in bed. The kids started to shout, while aemond replied in a time she never heard before, not shy. But proud and filled with venom.

When the fight broke out and all the reader could do was scream and cry for them to stop, but her body froze up. As soon as aemond grabbed ahold of Luke she ran towards him and grabbed ahold of his arm.

“Please, do not hurt them anymore. We- We can all stop this madness,” she looked around at all of them with tears. “Let us all be family.” Aemond was so caught up in his own wrath he pushed the reader back so she wouldn’t get in his way.

He threw Luke to the ground after calling jace and Luke “Strongs.” Then throwing the younger boy to the ground. Jace pulled out a small knife and the reader gasp as they fought again, but the knife was thrown elsewhere.

She watched as Luke crawled to the knife with a interesting to hurt aemond so her body moved on its own. “Aemond!” Just as she shouted she was cut off with the sound of flesh being cut with his blade and gushing sounds. They watch the horror in front of their eyes go down. Blood rolling down her throat and gasped of failed attempts of air when she fell to the ground with her hands clawing at her own throat.

Luke dropped the knife and steps back in disbelief of what was happening. Aemond caught his sister and laid her down in his arms trying to stop the bleeding. “How could you! I’ll kill you! I’ll feed you to my dragon.” He started to cry as did the others.

“What’s going on here?” The guards shouted as the walked up on the children and soon realized the princess. They took her in their arms and sent for the maester and the king at once. Everyone soon garnered in the hall for what had happened.

Alicent screamed when she first saw her daughter and it was loud that everyone in the castle heard. Running to her daughter with tears in her eyes she started to move her hair out of the way as the maester worker. Viserys screamed at the guards to answer who had done it but he wasn’t expecting his own grandsons. Aemond sat at his mothers side while handing the readers hand. Healana looked at the ground with a sob. She had saw it in a nightmare once’s that felt so real, this exact moment.

The boys stayed back and far away. Luke not even daring to look at the reader knowing he caused her harm and pain. All of them wondering if she would be dead soon. Alicent was so focused she didn’t even pay attention to anything but the reader being life and to keep her that way.

When rhaenrya entered it was hell to pay. Reader had just got done with her stitches while still knocked out cold as her body tried to heal itself. “You,” Alicent screamed and pointed at the princess. “You’re filthy sons did this.” Rhaenrya had not see the reader yet as she looked at her sons. When her eyes looked onto the readers body her eyes went wide and looked back at her sons not believing a word.

“They did this?” She asked around the room as the boys tensioned up. “It’s true, jace brought the knife to the fight and his brother, Luke, did the deed.” Cole spiked with a snare. Luke tugged at his mother’s sleeves, “But I did not mean too. Aemond was going to kill jace! The reader got in the way.” All the children started to scream their own defense as everyone watched.

The king was mad but not at the children but at the guards for not doing their jobs. Saying this would have been avoided if they were watched closely. “She would not want us to fight and surely you all know it.” He turned to look at young Luke in the eyes. “I know you did not mean it boy, things can be forgiven.” Alicent looked at rhaenrya as she smiled softly and pull her sons behind herself and listened to Viserys plead of forgiveness and family.

“He deserves no forgiveness,” Alicent stood up and let go of your hand. “The knife was brought to the fight and one of our children could have been killed- Y/n almost died, or might not make it.” She inched closer with a glare and her hands made up into a fist. “Our little girls life being stolen can be..Forgiven?”

“It is what’s right! I love her with my heart but it has been decided, no more blood needs to be shed. Do not let your hatred blind you Alicent.” She stared at him as he spoke so calmly and started to walk away. Her eyes went to the dagger on his hip and her mind filled with red to see her daughter avenged. Moving quickly she took the blade from his side and held it up going for Luke.

“If you will not see to justice then I shall.” Rhaenrya pushes her sons back and caught Alicent before she got closer. They held each other, pushing and pulling to get what they wanted. “Another insult to my family and you get away with it? Just under falling under that pretty foot. It is not far, where is duty? Where is sacrifice?” Rhaenrya looked at the blade as it reflected off the fire light.

She was about to say something but a loud metal sound caught them off guard. They both looked back as the reader laid on the floor with her eyes open and reached out for them. Her head shaking as she tried to speak out but nothing was coming out. Aemond coming to her aid and helping her up but she had used her the rest of her strength to get out of the chair. Reader looked at her brother for help to help and speak her mind, pleading to do the right thing.

“No more blood shed mother.” His spoke but his eyes do not match his words. “She does not wish it.” Helaena came rushing down to her twins side and held her hand. Alicent looked back at rhaenrya one last time before pulling away and dropping the knife. Slowly inching back she looked around at her husband, only with anger and devastation.

Everyone was quiet as she ordered someone to carry her daughter out of the room with the maester. The kids walked with her and held onto their sisters hand as she fell back into a deep sleep. No one could speak a word as they all stood stocked.

For years that was the last time rhaenrya and her kids saw their aunt, along with Daemon. But letters where sent in private from the reader to all of them with updates and her forgiveness. But luke refuses to open and read them as his guilt rotted away at his soul. But each week for years new letters still came from her. The next time they all saw eachother, they all grown so much. But they all remembered the first acted of war.

One side trying to make amends and the other full of revenge.

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venus-maneater · 6 months

Text

a loyal dog’s reward ii. | yan! criston cole

yandere / obsessed ! au

fem! targaryen princess! reader

part i

synopsis. suffering an injury from a tournament, criston has to deal with seeing you alongside his temporary replacement. fortunately, you weren’t interested in teasing too much this time, trying to distract yourself from your sister beginning her labors, and you were happy to cheer your poor mutt up.

note; I’ve decided to make this a series with no real plot lol 😭 if being attracted to criston cole is a crime then lock me up !! this chapter took a mind of its own bc this was not the original plot and it’s twice as long as part i

WARNING(s): obsessive / possessive behavior, manipulation, violence, thoughts of violence, implied murder, blood, injury, JEALOUSY, nosebleeds, talk of bastards and having bastard children, Rhaenyra gives birth, allusions to sex but no actual smut, cole def has a breeding kink y’all

Ser Criston Cole, your ever-so-loyal shield, always said yes when you asked him to enter tourneys. He knew how much you enjoyed them, and relished in your attention as he succeeded in competition. There were only two real downsides to tournaments for him: the hours he had to spend apart from you, and the injuries. Criston had always excelled at anything physical, but he was only mortal. He was just a man who could be maimed or murdered just like any other. It served to remind him of the status gap between you: he was a man while you were born from dragons.

He kept his eyes on your form in the nobles’ box until it was his turn. This was typical behavior from him, he was nothing but devoted to you. Since you’d discovered his true feelings, you gave him more attention than before. You entertained his tendencies, teasing him sometimes but always reassuring him at the end of the day. You wanted no one but him.

“Oh, don’t fret, my Criston.” You’d tut, “I could never replace you. You’re the only guard dog for me.”

You played with his feelings occasionally, trying to get a rise out of him, but he quickly found that he didn’t mind. His reward at the end made all his anger worth it. He never blamed you either, it was never your fault that men didn’t know how to leave you alone.

He wondered now if this was one of your attempts at making him jealous.

The large man who stood obediently behind you was the one taking over Criston’s position as he competed in the tournament. Usually, another Kingsguard member would take over, but this particular Knight had something to prove. He was highborn, from some house in the Vale, with wide shoulders and a somewhat handsome face. The two men looked nothing alike; the Knight next to you was pale, hazel-eyed, and thin-haired.

He doubted it.

You didn’t like men other than Criston Cole guarding you, you’d expressed so before. They’re boring and untrustworthy, you insisted. Your words made his chest puff out with pride. He liked that he was the only one you truly trusted with your life; you knew he would protect you. You chose him to protect you.

To be honest, you didn’t even seem interested in the Knight from the Vale; you looked stiff and bored, which concerned your sworn shield. You loved tournaments, you loved when he won things in your honor. Why don’t you look excited?

Soon enough, it was his turn again. With your flowery red favor around his wrist, he got into position.

You perked up a bit when you saw that it was Criston’s turn once more. You’d been rather stiff most of the event, and you partially blamed it on your boring temporary guard. The man was flat; no personality to work with at all. It bummed you out honestly, he was from the Vale but behaved like a Northman. He was presumably around Ser Criston’s age, but had not even half of his spirit. It wouldn’t have bothered you so much if you couldn’t feel his stare burning into the back of your head. You could give him some credit; at least he’s taking his job of supervising you seriously.

But no, the primary reason for your irritation and lack of focus was your father. He had demanded you to attend this tourney to celebrate Rhaenyra’s labors, not allowing you to be by her side. You and your sister were close, very close, and quite similar as well. To not be by her side when she was in pain had you tense. You didn’t want to be here, not even to see Criston compete.

Criston Cole was facing a member of House Bolton, a rather fierce young man who didn’t scare easy. Most Northerners were like that, but Criston should know best as he just beat another one last round. The tournament today was celebrating Princess Rhaenyra beginning her labors, so competitors have traveled from far and wide. The event had been planned for a month, so it was good news that the Princess was finally giving birth.

“Jessil,” you called to your guard with a smirk, “You should watch closely this round, my shield is competing.”

The man nodded curtly without a word, causing you to roll your eyes. His under-reactions irked you, but you were starting to blame Criston Cole for that fact. He always reacted wonderfully to anything you did, perhaps you were too used to it.

Speaking of your shield, you could see his anger growing the longer you were with another man. It was the only thing keeping you here at this point; waiting to see if he’ll get violent. Criston was the most amusing man you’d ever met, you just knew something was going to happen. There were only two more rounds until the event ended, and he’d been stiff ever since Ser Jessil bent down closer in order to hear your comments about two hours ago.

The two knights settled into their positions across the courtyard from each other, on opposite sides of the tilt. Then, a horn sounded, triggering their horses into a sprint. With their lances aimed, the men collided, wooden splinters flying but neither of them falling. New lances were readily tossed to them and the process repeated. Criston spared you a glance, noticing that Jessil had gotten a few inches closer.

Again, they charged forward. Only this time, when they clashed, Criston was thrown from his horse at the force of the hit. The Bolton fared a bit better, remaining on his horse, but he was hit in the face by Criston’s lance, causing the front of his helmet to cave in just enough to cut him.

What you saw made you shoot to your feet, your hands gripping the railing in concern. Never in your years of knowing Criston Cole had you ever seen him knocked from his horse in a tournament. He was easily one of the best fighters you knew of, it seemed impossible that this could happen. Had you pushed too far with your teasing? You’d never tried anything during a tournament before, perhaps Ser Jessil’s presence threw him off.

The round didn’t end there. Criston was quick to stand despite his obvious injuries, and his morningstar was swiftly given to him. His helmet had flew from his head when he fell, so his bleeding mouth was for all to see. He was holding his right arm close to his body, making it appear broken or incapable of proper use. Although he was right-handed, he gripped his weapon in his left hand and prepared for a fight. The Bolton Knight was also without a helmet at this point, ditching the damaged armor when he jumped to the ground to grab his sword. His nose was bleeding and looked to be broken from the hit.

“Is his arm broken?” You asked aloud, leaning over the railing a bit in an attempt to see better, “he favors his right.”

Jessil ignored your words, but inched closer so you wouldn’t go over the railing, “Princess, you could fall.”

Criston let the other Knight come to him, not willing to waste any energy. He used his time to look your way, not liking the way your guard was holding your shoulder.

The fight began, but didn’t last long. The Bolton may have made a skilled jouster, but not a fighter. He was no match for the angry Kingsguard, even when he had every advantage. Handicapped from his injuries, Criston swung his Morningstar with his left hand, swiftly hitting his opponent in the head while avoiding any oncoming attacks from the sword. The impact knocked the younger Knight out, but visibly broke his brow bone. Due to the force from the spikes, his face was bleeding badly and the area around his eye was caved in, perfectly mirroring the damage to his helmet.

Half the crowd was silent in shock (including yourself), but the other half was cheering loudly at the violence. You were desensitized to such things at this point in your life, but that didn’t mean you welcomed them. You didn’t like that Criston came so close to losing, or that you have to watch some poor Bolton boy bleed out on the ground for no reason, your shield was too injured to continue to the next round anyways. And due to your being a princess, it would be inappropriate to leave early to check on the Kingsguard member. Because your father wouldn’t allow to be with your sister, you’d made Criston your fixation of the day.

The two of you made eye contact as a few servants rushed over to him, helping him limp off to see a maester. It was soon announced that although neither competitor was continuing to the next round, Criston Cole was technically the winner.

“Well that was certainly a show” You cleared your throat, shaking Ser Jessil’s hand off your shoulder and finally taking your seat once again, “I knew something was going to happen.”

“So you did, Princess.” The Knight nodded curtly, recalling your words earlier, telling him to watch closely.

With Criston gone, your mind shifted back to a pregnant Rhaenyra, who was currently giving birth without your comfort. You stiffen up, nails digging into the railing before exhaling deeply and taking your seat. The two of you return to your proper positions and continued to observe the event for the next few hours, clapping dutifully when an insignificant Lannister won.

You made it back to the Red Keep in record time, it seemed. Even Jessil had trouble keeping up with you on your horse as you rushed home. You’d refused the carriage ride, eager to see your sister.

You were sprinting up the nearly infinite steps to her chambers, Jessil following close and maids jumping out of the way. A couple of people tried to stop your entrance, but you only shoved them aside and pushed your way towards your sister.

“Rhaenyra!” You gasped softly, a grin finding its way to your face when you saw her cradling her new baby in bed. After the death of your mother, childbirth was a sensitive subject for you and your sister, you hated being apart during this time. She dismissed the women in the room, leaving just the two of you and her first child.

“I’ve decided on Jacaerys.” She smiled at you as you crawled into the bed beside her.

She’d discussed baby name ideas with you before, with Laenor as well, who suggested Joffrey. Rhaenyra was adamantly against it, and you remembered the distaste you felt hearing it, knowing the implications that would come along if they decided on that name. You’d always liked Joffrey actually, unhappy with his death, but almost all of court heard the rumors of he and Laenor. You’d suggested Jacaerys, a Velaryon sounding name. Rhaenyra didn’t seem overly interested, so you didn’t expect her to choose it.

“Oh, Jacaerys.” You cooed, stroking his little head, full of dark locks. That wasn’t good, not really. Hopefully he took after Rhaenyra in his other features, or else questions of his parentage could arise. Rhaenys was half Baratheon, so that could be used as an excuse. But then the baby boy opened his eyes, revealing big brown orbs that mirrored Harwin Strong’s. You liked Harwin quite a bit, not minding. But the court would mind. You and Rhaenyra would just have to protect him.

“Have you slept yet?” You asked your sister, who hasn’t stopped grinning since you first saw her.

“Not yet, dear sister, I cannot stop looking at his sweet face.”

“Has… his father seen him yet?” You both knew who you meant.

“No. But he will soon enough, when I’m well enough to leave the room.” She gave you a knowing smile, which you returned.

Upon leaving Rhaenyra to rest, you were able to successfully escape Ser Jessil’s supervision with the help of Ser Harwin Strong, and went straight to Criston Cole’s chambers. You found out through your favorite handmaiden that he’d been released from the infirmary, and you took the first opportunity that presented itself to you. You didn’t knock before slipping into his room, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

Stepping in, your eyes were drawn to his place on the bed immediately. He was lying down above the blankets, with his arm wrapped and splinted in a sling resting above his bare midsection. His ribs were bruised, but it was apparently nothing bad enough that would need wrapping. Both legs were extended out, with his left pant leg pulled up to the knee to reveal his bruised ankle. He didn’t notice you enter, his eyes were shut and he was likely half-asleep. His face was fine, handsome as always, besides a cut on his nose-bridge that was beginning to darken into a bruise.

“Look at you, my poor sweet thing.” You cooed quietly at him suddenly, waking him from his relaxed state. His eyes shot open, head snapping over to the door.

“My princess.” He gasped. His chambers were much smaller and less impressive than yours, he didn’t want you in such an environment.

“Are you well?” You asked, closing the door as quietly as possible, “The maester says you’ve broken bones.”

“I’m well, I swear it to you. It’s a small break in the arm, everything should heal rather quickly.” He tried to reassure you as you approached, struggling his way into a sitting position, his back against the head board.

You hummed at his clumsy movements, stopping to stand at his bedside. Cute. Criston wasn’t an inherently violent man, at least not with you, so it was easy to forget how strong and dangerous he truly was. It was unnerving to see him injured; weak.

“How quickly would you say?” You asked.

“The maester says a month.” He answered quietly, not willing to admit the extent of his injuries. His primary goal was to get back to you.

You knew the Maester had actually said two months.

“Hm. Who will protect me for a whole month in your absence?” You held back a smirk.

You watched as Criston’s body language immediately changed. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, his leg twitched in frustration.

“I am still fully capable.”

Has he always been this attractive or does jealousy just look good on him?

“My father thinks you should take time to heal.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “I don’t care what he thinks, you saw what I did to my opponent despite my injuries.”

“You ‘don’t care what he thinks’? He is King.” You said in a mock-scolding tone, lifting your knee to rest in against the bed, close to his lap.

“Yours is the only word to mean anything to me. I listen to no King.” Still seated, he leans forward to get closer.

“Though you listen to me? Only me?” You ask with a smile, batting your lashes at him and leaning in. He doesn’t move to kiss you first, he rarely does. He lets you do as you please, feeling the puffs of air from your giggle on his lips.

“Yes. Only you.” He whispers, his eyes begging you to just kiss him already. But nothing is ever that simple with you, and he knows it well.

You grin at him, leaning in until your lips are just grazing his own, before laughing and pulling away entirely. His face followed yours until you were out of reach, leaving him to huff and fall back against the head board once again. He let out a quiet groan, closing his eyes and tossing his head back so he could catch his breath.

“You’re so easy, Ser Criston.” You snickered. His lips quirked up at your joyous tone, but he resisted the urge to open his eyes. After a few moments of stumbling around the room in amusement, you bit your lip to keep quiet.

Criston went stiff when you fell silent, excited fingers beginning to twitch as the urge to touch you increased. But he was a seasoned warrior at this point in life, and could hear every movement you made. He heard you tiptoe back over to the bed before pausing. The mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed and landed in his lap, straddling his thighs and avoiding his bruised ribs. It was only when you were on top of him that his eyelids fluttered open to watch you. You gave him a satisfied look. He was happy to let you believe you caught him off-guard.

“Criston?”

“Yes, my Heart?”

“There’s something I have to tell you…” You placed your hands gently on his chest and leaned in, your mouth next to his ear, “and you will not like it.”

“You think me incapable of handling such news?” He asked, a bit breathless.

You smiled, “Of course not. You’re my protector, my strong and most loyal servant. You can handle anything I give you, yes?”

He nodded, unable to speak properly with your lips on his ear.

“My father says that Ser Jessil will be your stand-in as my protector.”

Criston’s good hand immediately moved to your waist, gripping it tightly, “You don’t need anyone else to protect you. Only me.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” You kissed his jaw gently, “but you should heal and rest.”

“I will kill him. Do not doubt me.”

“He would just be replaced.”

“I don’t care, I should kill the next as well.”

“You go against my word?” You pulled back, sitting up fully. He hesitated in his response, so you continued, “Ser Jessil will be your temporary replacement, my King father has said this and I have agreed.”

It was a lie, technically; you didn’t exactly agree to anything. But you weren’t about to let Criston believe he had the power here. He’d started to get a bit too bold.

Your faces were close together now, the two of you holding heavy eye contact. Criston said nothing, though his body language revealed his true feelings easily. He didn’t like that you were taking your father’s side over his own.

“I love you.” He blurted out, brows furrowed in emotion.

Your hands moved up to hold his face, “I know that. I just want you well. You must rest and heal so you can be at your best. Don’t you understand?”

Criston nodded slowly, a satisfied shiver running through him at the thought of you caring so much. His health is truly that important to you?

“Good.” You say with a grin, pecking the corner of his lips and reaching up to pat his messy hair down. His long locks grew wild already, but the style worsened from hours of wearing a helmet.

Giving into you, per usual, the Knight sighed and wrapped his good arm fully around your waist, pulling you close so he could tuck his face into your neck. You cooed at him, returning his embrace and giggling in between your praises.

“I know that this upsets you quite a bit,” You began, gasping in surprise when you felt a warm tongue trail over your throat, “but I don’t mind making you feel better.”

“Feel better you say?” He questioned absentmindedly, more focused on the taste of your skin.

You hummed in confirmation, “I can take care of you in places you may need help with. You know….. here?”

Eyes closed, you placed a delicate touch to the bulge in his pants, smiling when you felt him stiffen beneath you.

Criston Cole was always half-hard around you, your presence alone able to rile him up. He often found himself having to control his thoughts when around other people, not wanting them to notice his… state. As much as he wanted to touch you all over— taste you and love you and worship you— he held a higher respect for you than himself. You were not just a Lady, you were a Princess. He would not dishonor you in such a way, at least not until the two of you were married.

“Princess—” he grunted, mouth dropping open in pleasure briefly before pursing his lips. He pulled his upper body away from you slightly, giving you a bit more space to do what you wanted.

“Oh, it’s fine, Ser Criston. I want to.” You reassured, shrugging because you knew he would end up letting you anyways, “You just look so good bruised up like this, all jealous over some loser, nobody Knight.”

You whispered the last sentence harshly, and Criston loved it. He loved when you degraded other men in comparison to him. He was who you wanted, not that loser, nobody Knight. It didn’t matter that he was low-born or sick in the head, you wanted him anyway.

“You prefer me?” He asked looking up at you, “to him? Tell me...”

“I prefer you to him, Ser Criston Cole. I prefer you to all other men.”

Pulling him by his hair, your lips captured his. Whimpering into your mouth, he now does nothing to stop you from reaching your goal. You smile into the kiss at his surrender.

“… but perhaps you’re right.” You pull away from his lips, but stay close enough to tease, “it would be so dishonorable and you’re injured as well. Hm.”

Criston, his mind in shambles, doesn’t say a word, just sucks his teeth and releases a shaky breath. He doesn’t like to argue with you, he won’t. He’s overwhelmed, you’re so close.

“Can’t think.” He muttered so quietly you almost missed it.

A breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it, “No? And why is that, Ser? Do I possess you so?”

“Possess? Princess, you are torturing me with your affections. I cannot think of anything else, I cannot focus, I cannot stop shaking.” His voice cracked at the last word and he wasn’t lying, his body trembled.

“Do I dominate your dreams as well?”

“Yes.”

You hum, curious. You knew of his fantasies; his plans to run away, marry, and have many children with you. But you never question the details, allowing them to stay fuzzy so he wouldn’t get too ahead with his scheming. Dreams, however, you could create your own world. “Won’t you share them with me?”

“We ah-” he pauses to take a deep breath, likely attempting to control himself, “You call me by name a lot.”

You tilt your head, a bit confused.

“Not Ser, not dog, not thing— just Criston. The sound of my name from your lips is like music to me. It makes me— I never want you to say another’s name ever again. And uh- a daughter. We have a daughter. She looks like you- so much.”

You begin to shift at his words. A daughter? No Westerosi man wishes for a daughter, at least not before a son, “Daughter you say? Why?”

“She will be you, reborn, carrying my blood. I dream of a baby girl that smiles like you. I will call her my little princess as you are my Princess. A child that is ours.”

“A daughter.” You repeated once more. It was… nice to hear a man express desire for a daughter rather than a son. You and Rhaenyra had suffered due to that mindset, spending most of your lives watching your father desperately try for a son, even at the cost of your mother’s life. He no longer felt that way, but it was too late, the damage had been done. He now had Aegon and Aemond, who he didn’t even pay much attention to. Your mother’s life felt wasted.

“Princess—?”

“A sweet thing it is.” You cut him off, “your dreams are endearing. But I must go now, Jessil has no doubt noticed my absence.”

Criston tensed, “Ab—sence” He croaked, jealousy building.

“Mmhm.” I nodded, “I’ve avoided him thus far, impressively. He may report this to my father if I’m gone any longer.”

Just a few minutes more, his mind screams. But he’s good for you, so he only nods. His jaw is clenched and there’s a noticeable twitch in his expression. His fingertips dig into your sides.

“I don’t want to part with you for so long.”

“Perhaps I’ll visit if you behave.”

“He’s clearly a bastard.” Criston spoke quietly, but plainly.

You’d snuck him into your chambers after a long day of cooing over Rhaenyra’s baby boy, Jacaerys. It’d been a couple weeks since his birth and she finally brought him to court for all to see.

“It is treason to suggest such a thing, Ser Cole.” You bitterly defended your sister as you brushed your fair, before rolling your eyes, “And even if it were true, what does it matter who the boy’s father is? He is Rhaenyra’s true son and her heir. The boy is a Targaryen.”

At the risk of upsetting you further, he held his tongue. Being rather low born, Criston grew up having to prove himself through his ability rather than his status. But when he was young, at the end of the day, he was still a rank above bastard children. He had that, at least. He knew that it wasn’t exactly fair, you can’t control who your parents are, but it was a mindset he was raised with and couldn’t shake so easily.

“What if my father marries me off to some Lord I do not love? Are you saying you wouldn’t fuck little bastard babies into me? Babes that look just like you?” You ask him, standing up from your vanity to approach his spot on your bed, feigning innocence.

Face twitching in annoyance, Criston grabbed your wrist and roughly pulled you to his level. With your faces were inches apart, he reached up and gripped your chin. The action made you bite your lip to hide a grin.

“I will be fucking little trueborn babies into you. I’ll make you my wife before giving you children.” He took slight offense to your words. How could you suggest that? You should know he would not let you be married off.

“Oh, of course, My White Knight. You plan to steal me away.”

“Hardly stealing.” He muttered, lovesick eyes staring into yours.

You don’t voice your disagreements, you only laugh. You did not belong to Criston Cole, you belong only to yourself. His words make you think that this game had gone a little too far; he’s getting too confident in his possessiveness. His hesitancy was one of his initial charms for you, and it’s leaving him. Perhaps it’s best to stop entertaining his ideas of a future with you, no matter how cute and pleasant you believe them to be.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t like it, even just a little?” You tilted your head, his hand still holding your chin softly.

“No.” That’s a lie, maybe just a small amount. Everyone knowing you belong to him, having his kids, despite your status. But the negatives massively outweigh the positives. Not only would it put so much dishonor on you, but Criston isn’t good at controlling his jealousy. He wouldn’t be able to handle you being married to another or his children not having his name.

You smiled knowingly, teasing, “I don’t believe you.”

He released his grasp on your chin, letting you fall closer into him, “I could never be fond of an idea where you are not mine.”

“Well I would be, only secretly.” You pointed out.

“I want you to be mine openly, in every way. By name.”

You knew that wasn’t possible, not even across the sea. But you didn’t want to burst the bubble he’d been constructing for the last year. You let it go. A short silence takes over, not an uncomfortable one, but not the kind you particularly liked. The two of you had extremely different thinking processes, and it was something only amplified when you discussed your ideas for the future. Luckily, your partner was delusional enough that he didn’t notice your discontent with running away.

“Criston?” You ask, letting yourself fall to lie flat beside him. He lets go of your wrist and his eyes follow your moments, as usual. He lies back on the bed as well.

“Yes, my Princess?”

“Why do you desire me the way you do?”

He looked slightly surprised at the question, like he’d never expected you would ask. The truth is, he hadn’t. It wasn’t like you to care why. You were quick to accept things for what they were.

“You’re special to me.” He eventually whispered, “I was made to love you.”

“Made?”

“The gods constructed me only for the purpose of worshipping you. You have bewitched me with no effort. I do not know whether to kiss the ground you walk on or fall to my knees and beg for your continued attention.”

You stare into his big, dark eyes silently. He’s loyal, like a dog. And he’s hopeless like one too. “You’re not exactly a poet, but I suppose that will do.”

He grins, and you can practically feel his heart racing, “Not a poet, no.”

You tear your eyes away from him to glare at the ceiling. “Do not call my nephew a bastard again.”

He tensed at your words, entirely disliking that he’d upset you, and nodded immediately. He was embarrassed, “Yes, my love, I’m sorry.”

You sighed and looked back at him, sitting up once more. “I think you’ll find him charming. Rhaenyra says he reminds her of me already.”

“Well I’m sure to be charmed in that case, aren’t I?”

“Oh, yes, since you’re more than quite charmed by me.”

“Charmed,” He smiled, pupils expanding as he began to fantasize, “I hope to be charmed by our own children one day.”

“Our own?” You entertained, “How many? Including this daughter of ours of course.”

“Five perhaps. More if you’d like.” He took a piece of your hair between his fingers to play with.

“Is that what our lives would look like if you had it your way?”

“If I had it my way,” His eyes shifted back to your own, darkening, “by now you’d be chasing around our first two children as your stomach swelled with our third. You’d be called Lady Cole.”

“Ah, yes. Lady Cole with her many Cole babes.”

Criston had to take a deep breath at that, practically vibrating at the mere thought of you carrying his children and living as his wife.

You giggle at his visible reaction, leaning down to claim his lips. He sighed into the kiss, hesitant hands reaching for your hair. He tugs, trying to urge you closer, onto his lap, “My princess, please.”

“He begs, ‘Please please please’. You are the wantingest man I’ve ever met.” You grin into the kiss, allowing him to take you into his lap.

“I will never have shame in begging you. My life belongs to you, I am yours.” His words are beginning to slur slightly, “It’s only natural for me to be greedy when you are the one who claims my heart.”

“Always trying to impress me with your words,” You playfully roll your eyes, “you’re nearly healed, you know. Ready to return to my side?” It was a lie, he had good a bit left of healing to do.

“I never should have left.” He squirmed, trying not to show his anger. He never left, not willingly. He was removed.

“Of course, of course.” You tugged on the dark hair at the back of his neck, “The man who’s been with me is utterly serious. Neither I nor Rhaenyra like him.”

Criston listened to your complain about your temporary shield with a sense of pride and giddiness. He was relieved you disliked his replacement. But the mention of your sister disliking him as well did nothing for him, as the princess Rhaenyra didn’t like most men surrounding you, Criston himself included. She never vocalized it much, but he noticed when she tensed and sneered when he got too close to you. He wondered if she knew about your relationship.

“I’m more your taste, Princess?”

A grin found its way to your face and you nodded, “That’s right, I can do whatever I please to you and you only bask in my attention.”

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, argue with that. While he had his own boundaries of sorts, they were completely disregarded in your presence and he didn’t even mind it.

To prove your point, you began to kiss his jaw, sweet and gentle kisses. Criston hummed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back only slightly. You nipped at the delicate skin, comfortable with leaving just a few marks because he was still out of action; not many people would be seeing him anyways.

“G-gods-” he choked out.

“The gods cannot save you, I’m afraid.” You giggle.

“I beg them not to.”

You giggle at his dazed voice and expression, blowing cool air on his neck and enjoying his shiver. His hands keep twitching. Just to tease, you kept your face tucked into him, kitten licking at the skin until you felt something wet hit your cheek. Pulling away slightly, you quickly identified the source of the warm liquid; blood was dripping from Criston’s nose, falling over his lips down to his chin.

“S-sorry, your grace. I’m overwhelmed is all.” He muttered, hand immediately going up to face to stop the dripping. But you only pull his hand away with a smirk.

“You know,” you begin, thumbing some of the blood and smearing it over his lips, “in the way of Old Valyria, we share blood when we marry.”

“Please, please,” he croaks, big dark eyes boring desperately into your own. They’re shiny and lack any coherent thoughts, “Don’t say such things to me now— can’t control myself.”

“We use dragon glass to cut one another’s lip,” you take your bloodied thumb and swipe red onto your bottom lip, “then we kiss to show we are of the same blood now.”

His leg begins to bounce and he has to look away from your face. His nose continues to drip blood, but neither of you move to stop it this time.

“You like that idea~ i can tell because you’re shaking.” You giggle into his ear.

“M’not shaking-” he replies, but even his voice trembles.

“Well you’re bleeding, is that not a sign?” You tilt your head, “perhaps you’re unwell, should I stop?”

Before he can beg you not to stop, his sharp ears catch the sound of clicking armor in the hall. He tenses, almost forgetting he was in the Princess’ chambers; he doesn’t know how when yours was easily three-times the size of his own. There was no need to panic and hide, people were not permitted to just walk in.

Three hard knocks sounded throughout the room, causing Criston to freeze. Your expression didn’t change, as you’d heard the footsteps.

“Who is it? Do not enter please.” You answered, your eyes not leaving your knight’s. As nervous as he was, Criston maintained eye contact and didn’t move a muscle. With a small grin, your hand traveled back up to his chin, which was now smeared with blood. As your fingers traced his features, you leaned in close to his ear to place a few gentle kisses there.

“Princess, it’s Ser Jessil. Your sister, the Princess Rhaenyra, has sent for you. She is… perhaps you should open the door to let me explain. It concerns your safety.”

Your reactions vary; Criston’s posture is still stiff and he’s growing annoyed at the knight’s presence. It’s almost offensive how this pathetic creature is trying to protect you when that’s his job. But you’re worried, though you won’t show it. Rhaenyra? Is something wrong? But something about it didn’t make sense; if your safety was threatened, then why did Rhaenyra know first and why did Jessil bother knocking at all?

“I’d prefer you explain from where you are.”

You could hear his sigh through the door, an impressive feat, “She is suspicious that a knight of the king is sneaking into your chambers.”

Probably because it was true, you thought, glancing at a stiff and unhappy Criston.

“Let me ready myself and I will speak with her at once.” As you began to shift off of your shield, but he only pouted and desperately hung on. He had the mind to keep quiet, but his heart wouldn’t allow you to leave him.

“… Yes, Princess.”

You turned to him sternly, “Let go, Criston. Don’t be foolish, just hide for now and be gone when we leave.” You quietly scolded and his grip loosened.

He clenches his jaw, the most common hint to his annoyance, and said nothing. He allowed you to pull him up by the hand and drag him over to your wardrobe, shutting him in with a last apologetic kiss.

“Be good.” You uttered, and his gaze softened for a moment before the door shut in his face.

He could hear you shuffle around, dressing quickly to see your sister. He sucked his teeth angry. Did he deserve mistreatment? To an extent, yes, he could admit that. But this wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t you just— stay? Tell him to kill that bothersome knight and be done with him entirely. His fists clenched. He’d kill him— and soon. Right now even. Then he’d take you away and give you a nice little home with sweet little silver-haired babies. Criston was growing sick of waiting, it was eating him up inside. You affected him so severely, it was showing itself physically. He brought a hand up to the crimson liquid that had finally stopped leaking from his nose.

You were gone now— he knew this because he could feel when you were near. But someone was in your chambers, someone closer to his size. He could hear the metal clanking of heavy armor. The person was looking for something, an intruder most likely. But Criston was not the intruder here. The idea of someone who wasn’t him being in your space made him burn with anger. That was fine, he decided, he’d handle it. With balled up fists, he stepped out from the wardrobe.

“Has Ser Jessil been good to you, little sister?”

You shrugged at Rhaenyra, your chin resting in your hand as you leaned on the table. It wasn’t polite, but you were comfortable in her presence, “He’s fine, I suppose.”

“But you prefer that dog of yours.” Your sister teased. You could tell she didn’t like that— didn’t like Criston. You understood.

“He’s good, listens well.”

“Not for long— I can see it well. He’s a sick thing, sister.”

“I can handle him, he does as I ask.”

“He’s greedy, an oath breaker.”

You hummed in agreement, “He has pretty eyes.”

Rhaenyra scoffed with a grin at your reply, “He will try to steal you away. Not just that, but he’s also obvious. Painfully so. If I know, someone else does too. He needs to be put out. Be rid of him.”

“I… understand that he’s got troublesome feelings. But he’s become something of a pet to me now.” You pouted and your sister sighed, not fond of upsetting you.

“When I ascend the throne, he will be gone. I worry he’ll be your downfall.” She wasn’t being dramatic, she’d disliked the man for years and saw every bit of concerning behavior he displayed. She saw clearly his desperation to leave with you. When it comes time for you to marry, he’ll go mad.

You knew whatever you had with Criston wasn’t permanent, but to hear your elder sister give away her intentions of getting rid of him really struck you. “He’s brainless, Rhaenyra. Just a dog, truly. He can hardly read. He’s only a threat physically, and he would never hurt me.”

Rhaenyra sighed, wrinkling her nose in distaste for the man. She used to be like you, still was sometimes, but she would protect you from her mistakes. She would not allow any whispers at court of you being a whore and your children being bastards, not like her. Since the birth of Jacaerys, she’d grown just a bit more serious, and much more protective.

“You needn’t be literate to kill a man.” She replied after a brief silence.

You held back a huff. The truth was that Criston could read fine these days, though not nearly at the level you could. You’d only said that to give the illusion of harmlessness. Unfortunately, Rhaenyra would never buy it; she had seen the knights he’d bloodied during tournaments.

“I’ll be harder on him then, perhaps add a bit of distance. But, sister, he is important. As a member of the Kingsguard, his support and loyalty will aid your claim. One more soldier on our side— a good one.”

“I will not sacrifice you for my cause.”

“I’ve told you, he will not harm me—”

“It’s more complex than that—!”

It felt like you were 13 and 14 again, bickering over something that was caused by your sisters protectiveness.

No, you will not be coming with me. You will sleep in your bed and I will wake you myself come morning!

If that stable boy looks at you that way again, I will have father or Uncle Daemon take his eyes— probably Daemon.

No, sister. You are mad if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a wild dragon—!

You sometimes think that Criston and Rhaenyra hate one another because they are a bit similar.

“Nyra,” you groaned, head in hands, “I will fix it, you’re right, he has become a bit… extreme lately. But you must admit he’d be beneficial to our cause.”

Although Rhaenyra was legally the heir to the throne, there were already whispers of putting Alicent’s son, Aegon, on the throne in her place. Criston wasn’t very powerful politically, but he was a brilliant fighter and his words as a Kingsguard held just a bit of sway.

She furrowed her brows, “You’re too fond of him.”

You shrugged, standing up, “Perhaps. But I’m no fool; you come first. I will never flee with him.”

“And when he realizes that?”

You didn’t have an answer. You passed Harwin Strong on your way out, and bit your tongue to stop myself from calling out the hypocrisy.

What was the difference between her and Harwin vs you and Criston?

Well for starters, Harwin didn’t murder any man who entered Rhaenyra’s vicinity. Criston on the other hand…

By the time you returned to your chambers, the entire stone floor was red, the liquid seeping into your intricate carpet you’d had since you were a child. There was no body, suggesting that Criston had already gotten rid of it or the victim managed to escape. (But that was unlikely, Criston was a beast in a fight, and his temper was unmatched.)

“Princess.” Criston croaked from behind you, in the open doorway. He’d just arrived, and it took only one glance at him to know what he’d done. Blood covered his hands, arms, and chest. It was splattered from his face all the way down to his knees. He was in his civilian clothes still, rather than any armor due to being put on leave. His eyes were shiny, some sense of desperation in them, and he was fiddling with his red hands. Nervous. Why were you back so early? The sling for his arm was gone, though he surely still needed it.

“Is—” You cleared your throat. “Is he alive?”

But judging by the brain matter on the ground, you knew the answer was—

“No.” Direct and honest. He took a few steps forward, shutting the door behind him. You weren’t scared of him necessarily— you knew well enough at this point that he’d never hurt you. But he didn’t look quite human at the moment, so you took a step back.

Your simple shuffle backwards was enough to send him into a panic.

He dropped to his knees, blood soaking into his breeches as he inched closer, “My love— he was threat! He would’ve found me in here—” He babbled on about protecting you, begging for you not to be afraid. You let him talk, focused on the blood.

“Clean this up.” You finally muttered, patting him quickly on the head to avoid soaking yourself with the crimson liquid.

As much as a part of you wanted to coo at him ‘good dog’, you couldn’t. This was messy— emotional and obvious. Risky. He was a bad dog, a stupid one even. He wasn’t like Harwin— manageable. He was something else entirely. You liked him how he was, violently loyal and protective, but you couldn’t have it.

He quickly agreed to clean it and began to calm down, which led him to notice your own unease. He flinched when he saw how much blood seeped into your shoes and skirt, pulling you into his arms and placing you on your favorite stool.

He was cooing at you, “Sweet Princess, don’t worry about this, yes? I’ll rid you completely of this man, I swear it. I allowed his blood to soil your clothes, I’m sorry.”

Criston kissed at your collar bones down your arms to your palms.

“Criston,” his eyes shot up to meet yours. Big brown heart eyes. “No more of this, not in this castle.”

His hands tightened slightly around your wrists, “But you like it.” He muttered.

“It isn’t about that—!” You held your tongue, deciding to take a smarter approach, “My sweet Criston, the people in the Keep will soon notice a pattern, I cannot let that happen. My sister needs nothing in her way of that crown.”

He nearly scoffed, “Is it always about your sister and her crown? I have protected you again! From-from these perverts who wish to—”

“You’re the pervert-!”

“You love me! You love it! How you affect me— how you can physically see every thought that goes through my head about you! You love how perverted I am for only you! I see you— I love every part of you, even the part that gets off on a Kingsguard soiling his cloak for you!” Criston was shaking, “I am sick, and you cannot get enough! Just as I will never tire of you— I need you!”

There was silence, besides his heavy breathing. You didn’t expect such self-awareness, and you didn’t like it. You liked him better dumb, but it appeared he never was fully clueless. His brown eyes were wide and a shade darker than usual.

“Sit.” You commanded and he did, “Just clean this up.”

[taglist] @3abydolll @pearlstiare @caramelcandescence @eilishchaos @watercolorskyy

The Rhaenyra/Criston beef is gonna go crazy in the prequel

im hoping you guys noticed, but this chapter was meant to emphasize the lack of control the reader truly has on criston. like yeah, he worships you and is willing to do almost anything you say, but his urges control him more than anything else ever will. this is going to be a common theme in the future. i also wanted this chapter to show more daily life and readers relationship with rhaenyra compared to part i.

#dark! hotd #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #got x reader #yandere got #yandere criston cole #yandere asoiaf #criston cole #criston cole x reader #obsessive criston cole #dark criston cole #ser criston #targaryen reader

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