Sweet Dreams

BETTER THAN MEAT

Sumarry: Luffy discovers that his favorite smell is no longer the smell of meat.

OPLA!Luffy X Reader

Warnings: I think none, I just hope it gives you butterflies in your stomach lol

N/A: You asked me for this so much and here it is, it's horrible, but it's a good start.

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"Where's Y/n, Nami?" Luffy says while Nami is still looking at the clothes.

"She's over there changing, let's go Y/n!" Nami screams.

"I guess I didn't like that." Y/n says showing off and upon hearing his voice, Luffy turns his head to look.

He doesn't know exactly what he felt at that moment, but it was something very similar to a heart attack.

"What do you think Luffy?" Y/n says observing Luffy's serious expression.

"You are the most beautiful pirate I have ever seen in my entire life." Y/n blushes when she hears this and Zoro scoffs.

"That's very kind of you Luffy, thank you." Y/n says awkwardly.

"Seriously you... you would easily be mistaken for a princess or something." Luffy says getting up and going to Y/n.

Y/n smiles at Luffy who is right in front of her now, and suddenly he starts moving his nose sniffing.

"And what is that smell?" Luffy says trying to identify the smell.

"It must be from dinner Luffy."

"No no, it's something else." And then he does something that leaves everyone wide-eyed.

Luffy puts his nose on Y/n's neck, sniffing deeply, sending shivers all over Y/n's body.

"Luffy don't do that." She says laughing and pushing his shoulders awkwardly.

“Your smell better than meat Y/n!” Luffy says laughing and she feels her cheeks heat up.

"That really surprised me." Zoro says laughing a little.

"Y/n can I smell you more often?" Luffy asks smiling.

"I think you can?"

And it doesn't end here

Y/n is sitting next to Luffy during dinner, she is drinking when she suddenly feels something warm on her neck and turns red as a tomato when she sees Luffy's hair and realizes it was him sniffing her neck again, almost making her to drown.

"Luffy for the love of God don't do that." She says pushing him awkwardly again.

"You really smell good ." He says smiling, and she feels her heart soften.

Y/n doesn't know what to do or say so she just turns forward again, seeing this Luffy's smile disappears

"Oh you don't like that Y/n?" Luffy says loudly, unintentionally drawing the attention of the entire table.

"No, don't worry Luffy, it's okay." She smiles and puts her hand on his shoulder.

But no, it wasn't okay, Luffy thought about Y/n's reaction during dinner, during his speech and everything.

What he least wanted was to hurt or offend Y/n, she was too special to him, it made him so anxious that he simply couldn't wait until the next day to talk to Y/n, so here he is facing the bedroom door her.

Before he can knock on the door, Y/n opens it and is surprised to see Luffy there.

"Oh hi Luffy, everything okay?"

"I'd like to apologize if I made you uncomfortable hi something like that it wasn't my intention." Y/n thinks she fell in love with Luffy even more after hearing him say that.

"Oh no Lu, it's okay, I… I liked that." Y/n says embarrassed as she admits this and he smiles at that.

"That's great, because I like doing this too." He says and moves closer to smell Y/n again, but this time, she tilts her head to give him better access.

But when he is moving away from her, he stops in the middle of the way with their noses almost touching, and then Luffy gives Y/n a quick peck on the lips, quickly moving her face away and smiling.

"Damn why did you do that? It must have made her uncomfortable again" He is torturing himself with his thoughts when Y/n speaks again.

"Do you want to go find the kitchen?" Y/n says and his smile widens.

"Yes, let's go!" Luffy grabs Y/n's wrist and pulls her along with him.

He's happy that his favorite person in the world isn't mad at him, and she's happy that her favorite pirate cares about her so much.

love young bro...

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'taking it'

tags: sort of non-con, dark!coriolanus snow (?), fem!reader, implied sex, smut, unedited

You gasped, as Coriolanus pressed his body against yours with unrestrained passion. His movements were fervent and filled with intensity, your skin burning beneath his touch.

The sound of his heavy breathing becoming a symphony to your ears as he continued to ravage you in wild abandon, pushing the boundaries of pleasure beyond all imaginable limits.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’d cum in pleasure. “Coriolanus-, it's too much, i can’t handle it-.” Though your pleas fall upon death ears as he doesn’t seem to care about what your saying, he was already to deep in the lust of the moment to even realise or comprehend what you were saying.

"Can't get enough of you" he'd whisper, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his strong lap.

"No!" you'd moan when he pressed himself deep inside yours. His embrace seemed to last an eternity, igniting flames of desire all through your body. He wanted all of you and more, a craving that only grew stronger as time went on.

Coriolanus would gaze down to where you were intertwined and moan with delight at the sight of your passion smeared over his shaft. “God damn, you’re driving me wild” he growled, gripping your hips and lifting you up before putting his cock back in.

At this point you’re nothing but his cocksleeve. Your insides scream in pain with each passing second and your stomach feels like it's about to burst from the unbearable sensation.

You beg for him to stop, yet he continues heedless of your pleas. You know that if he doesn't take respite soon, you will succumb to exhaustion and pass out from the physical stress of it all. Coriolanus keeps thrusting into you like a mindless beast.

Not thinking of the repercussions, you tried to push him off by lifting yourself partially up from his thighs and laying your small hand on his pelvis. But in that moment, it was a mistake that you deeply regretted.

You cry out loud as he pulls you back down. His breath is hot and heavy on your skin, his whisper filled with venom as he spits out the question: "Where do you think that you are going?".

He places a hand around the small of your back, holding your hips firmly against the bed. The power of his grip immobilizes you from moving any further. You try to plead with him but it falls on deaf ears.

He stares into your eyes, his expression unreadable as he leans in closer to you. His voice suddenly softens and he smiles a small, knowing smile that sends chills down your spine.

"Look," he says in a low tone, "Just relax."

He had one hand firmly clutching your hands, immobilizing them above your head. You felt his other hand tracing down your body for more access and finally pushing your left leg to the side. "Stop fucking running away and take it," he demanded.

His words stirred something inside of you that felt liberating yet uncertain at the same time. The sensation of him positioned above you unlocked an intensity in the moment that made everything feel heightened- each breath, every action.

You shake your head back and forth, tears streaming down your cheeks. His laugh is bitter as he says, “It serves you right. You shouldn’t have spoken to that guy.”

By the way your body betrayed you once more by tightening his cock, he knew you were going to cum.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum for me," Coriolanus whispers as he leans down to kiss your lips and wiping away the tears with one hand that is pressed against your stomach.

His other hand reaches up to grasp onto yours, and he can feel your body quaking beneath him. "Fuck, I'm so close," Coriolanus gasps out in pleasure. His movements become more weaker as time passes.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel him reach his climax inside you, and the walls of your body are filled with his warmth. “So fucking gorgeous with my load in you.” he had whispered into your ear as he pulled out of you, lazily putting his body weight on you but not fully.

“You did so good, so so good.” He says as he moves up to your neck full of hickies to place a gentle kiss. His words spark something deep within you, and as he pulls away you can feel the tears beginning to form in your eyes once again.

You are overcome by a wave of emotion that you can't seem to control, but instead try to hold it back.

He seems to notice it though. "Shhh," Coriolanus whispers as he pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around your body. You can feel the beating of his heart against yours, and you wrap your own arms tightly around him. You don't make the effort to push him off you, since you know there was no chance he would let you.

— ‘you look hot when you cry’

.pairing— rooster x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

.themes— SMUT, no plot just porn lol

.warning— seggs lol, edging, orgasm denial, face sitting

.summary— whiny bottom bradley, whiny bottom bradley, whiny bottom bradley

his voice cracked as he let out another sob. bradley’s voice was going horse and he could feel a lump in his throat forming. he grips your hips trying to slow them while you ride his overstimulated cock. he pleads with you to slow your pace and you smirk at him in return and lean down to whisper in his ear.

“who knew you could look so hot while crying” the tone in your voice sends a shiver down his spine and he moves his grip down to your thighs.

“we can’t stop now baby, you’re doing so well” you shower him with praise and he eats it up. he loves when he’s told how good he’s doing. he lets out another deep groan. you place your hands over his to move them to your breasts and quicken your pace while watching his facial expressions change; you could get off on his expressions alone.

“yeah that feel good baby? you like how good i feel around you?” he’s an incoherent mess that whines and mumbles in agreement.

“s’good— ah fuck, s’good baby” he throws his head back on the head board. you put a hand on his chest and drag it down his abdomen, nearly drooling over how heavenly his body looks underneath yours. this position may make your legs sore but it is beyond worth it.

“you gonna cum handsome? you wanna fill me up for the third time tonight?” you egg him on as he whines for you to slow down again.

“you cum without permission i’m just gonna keep going, you gotta beg for me to let you cum” he readjust himself into an upright position to kiss and nip at your neck no doubt leaving hickies in his wake. you hear his whines in your ear and nearly cum on the spot yourself. his facial hair tickles your neck and grazes over the new formed bruises he’s creating and it feel amazing.

“please baby, please let me cum inside you” he looks at you with his signature puppy eyes and it makes it so hard to say no to him. but you really wanna see how much longer he can hold on for. you hold his face and pull him into kiss you while his hands return to your waist and you feel his hips stutter and a warm feeling inside of you. you pull away from the kiss slowly seeing a string of saliva connect between both of your mouths.

“i didn’t say you could cum yet naughty boy” you stare down at him with a disapproving look. “now you’ve gotten yourself in trouble”

“m’sorry you just felt so good” you push him back so he’s laying flat on the bed once again.

“you’re gonna have to clean me up bradley, i’m all messy now” you move up so he slips out of you with ease and he winces at his sensitivity. you move so your cunt hovers over his face.

“clean up your mess pretty boy” bradley eagerly pulls you down by your thighs to taste a combination of you and himself. he moans into your pussy and the vibrations along with his mustache against you has you gripping his hair and creating the lewdest of noises he’s ever hear from you and it turns him on more than he’d care to admit, even with after how many times he’s cum that night.

his grip on your thighs tightens and you’re certain there will be bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning, but the way his tongue fucks you and moves to your clit is too much for you to handle and before you can even warn him to slow down you feel that wave of pleasure wash over you and you tug a little too hard on his hair. you gently remove your grip from his hair and start to apologize for pulling when he moves flips you over so you’re underneath him.

“my turn” his tone is dark and you watch as he puts your leg over his shoulder and plant a kiss on your ankle before he pushes himself back into your abused cunt. you hiss at the stretch even though he was just inside of you less then two minutes ago.

“fuck bradley” he grips your waist with his free hand and starts pounding into you while moving his thumb over your clit and it feels like what you imagine pure bliss to be. you let out pornographic sounding moans and it sets off something in bradley and his pace becomes brutal but it feels so good.

“bradley, i’m gonna cum” it’s now your turn to plead with him. luckily for you he’s much more merciful. he leans into you hitting a new spot that he wasn’t reaching before and whispers to you.

“then cum for me pretty girl, cum all over my cock” his words send you over the edge and you both cum together. he gently pulls out you and takes your leg off his shoulder.

“you okay baby?” your soft bradley is back. you nod and he goes to get a rag to clean you both up, after he holds you close to him whiles still asking if you’re okay just in case and you have to reassure him about five times before he’s convinced.

“you were amazing baby” you smile up at him and kiss under his jaw. you close your eyes and prepare for sleep to take over before bradley cuts through the silence.

“am i really hot when i cry?” there’s a beat of silence before you respond.

“very”

.love always <3 pearl

LOOKING AT HER| S.VETTEL

Author’s note; fuck off Amy.

Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary; Reader has grown to love the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on her but not everyone understands.

Warnings; fluff, suggestive towards the end, Amy’s a bitch.

F1 Master List

Sebastian always had a habit of looking at her, he just couldn't help himself, he found her so beautiful that it was impossible not to admire her. He didn't understand how he was so lucky to have someone so special as his girlfriend.

It had taken a while for Y/N to get used to his gaze, at first it had made her self conscious, she thought there was something about her appearance or her outfit which had caught his attention but every time she asked he always responded the same way.

"I’m just admiring how beautiful my girl is"

She eventually found herself being used to having his eyes on her, in fact she had grown to like it. It made her feel safe and secure knowing he was there and keeping an eye on her. It was like a comfort blanket to her now.

She did feel nervous under his gaze though, the good kind of nervous. Sebastian was always one for eye contact and his gaze was... intense. It was constantly making her flustered, she'd end up forgetting everything, her words, what she was meant to be doing, everything vanished for her when he was around, all she could think about was him.

Sebastian and Y/N were currently out for dinner with some of Y/N's friends, although the pair of them had been official for over 2 years now Seb hadn't really had the chance to meet her friends properly due to him travelling all the time and when he wasn't they were too caught up in making up for lost time to make plans.

Her friends had been shocked when Y/N who was known to be extremely shy and famous for keeping to herself announced that she had a boyfriend, they had already been dating for nearly a year when she had finally told them.

Imagine their surprise when their incredibly private friend revealed just who her boyfriend was; an extremely famous, successful and rich formula one racing driver.

Y/N was currently in the middle of a conversation with her 'best-friend' Amy when she felt her boyfriends beautiful eyes tracing over her body.

Sebastian thought she looked so beautiful, she has dressed up tonight into a long dress and heels. Obviously she looked beautiful all the time but that dress was really doing something.

It didn't take long for Y/N to get flustered, her cheeks had turned a blush pink and she looked down at the table as she tried to remember her words.

Sebastian smiled, he loved the effect he had on her, knowing that he could get her all riled up just from a simple glance was a huge ego booster.

"Why do you keep looking at her like that? Can't you see it's making her uncomfortable" The table went silent as everyone turned to look at Amy who had purposely made sure everyone heard her.

Sebastian was speechless when he saw that she was staring him down. Making her uncomfortable? He looked at Y/N who was in just as much disbelief as he was, staring at her friend, wide-eyed because she hadn't been uncomfortable at all and she really didn't appreciate her rude tone towards the man she loved.

"Excuse me?" Sebastian almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her accusation.

"You've been staring her down for the past 10 minutes and it's creepy, can you not see how awkward she feels? She's literally shifting around in her seat"

"Amy-" Y/N tried to protest, she usually wasn't one to speak up, preferring to keep out of drama but the way the girl in front of her was looking at Sebastian like he was a piece of shit wasn't sitting right with her at all, especially because he was quite literally the sweetest human she had ever met.

The table watched in tense silence as Amy continued to run her loud mouth which was making everyone feel uncomfortable.

"...Just because you're some rich bloke that drives around in fancy cars doesn't mean you have the right to stare at a woman like she's a piece of meat" Seb couldn't believe the audacity of the woman, she knew absolutely nothing about him.

It seemed Y/N was thinking the same thing because she slammed her hand down on the table "Shut up! You know absolutely nothing about Seb or me, clearly, so stop acting like you have the right to comment on him, his job or his actions"

She then turned to her boyfriend who's eyes were filled with pride "Can we go? I don't want to stay here with someone who had no respect for others"

Sebastian nodded, immediately standing from his seat,  placing a couple bank notes down on the table to pay for their meal before grabbing his jacket and holding out his hand for her to take.

He ignored Amy's muttering of "Oh so you need to ask his permission to do what you want as well"

He said a polite goodbye to the rest of the table before the pair of them walked out of the restaurant.

Sebastian briefly glanced away from the the road and over to the passenger seat for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car, Y/N hadn't said anything since leaving the restaurant and it was starting to worry him.

She had sort of curled herself up into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest with her feet resting on the edge of the seat as she stared blankly out of the window.

Sebastian wanted to tell her to sit up straight for her own safety but his worry for what she was thinking was a bigger priority to him at the moment.

"Liebling?" She only hummed in response which increased the worry he initially felt, she always responded properly to show he had her full attention, believing it was rude otherwise.

He hadn't been too bothered about Amy's words in the restaurant but with how quiet his girlfriend was being, he was starting to think that maybe Y/N agreed with her and maybe he did make her feel uncomfortable.

"Are you okay, schatz?" He asked. Y/N heaved out a heavy sigh as she sat up properly before turning to face him.

"I just hate how rude she was to you, she had no reason to speak to you like that and to do it in front of everyone in a public was just wrong, I'm sorry"

"Why are you apologising to me? You didn't do anything wrong, you handled it brilliantly" Sebastian reached over to grab her hand and link their fingers together, his thumb stroking along her hand hoping to provide some comfort.

"I know you went through the trouble to make sure you were free so we could go to dinner with them and now it's just wasted"

Sebastian shook his head "I didn't make sure I was free for the dinner, Y/N. I made sure I was free for you, you're more important to me than any interview or meeting"

Y/N smiled at his words, tightening her hold on his hand, he really was the perfect man.

"Can I ask you a question though?" He asked, seeing Y/N nodding her head out of the corner of his eye "Was she right?"

"What!?" Y/N couldn't believe the absurdity of his question "Not at all"

Sebastian bit his lip, not quite sure if she was just saying that so she wouldn't hurt his feeling "Are you sure? I'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable"

She couldn't help but giggle, nothing he did could ever make her uncomfortable, he was perfect. "You have never made me feel uncomfortable, Seb. I like feeling your eyes on me" she admitted.

Sebastian looked at her with a small smirk "yeah?"

Y/N nodded "Makes me feel sexy" she sheepishly said, turning back to the window to try and hide the blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, really?" She heard to teasing tone in his voice and internally rolled her eyes knowing he wouldn't let her live this down.

His ego had just grown about three times the size from her confession. It felt great knowing that he was able to make her feel so good without really doing anything. "Don't go all shy on me now, come on" he told her, tugging on her hand slightly.

"You're just going to hold it over my head now" she groaned but turned back to him as he wished.

"I promise I won't, I like that I make you feel good by something so simple" he said. The last part was true but he was totally going to hold it over her head.

"You always make me feel good" she whispered, tracing a finger over the veins on the back of his hand.

Sebastian heard her even though she spoke so quietly and felt like he could melt. What man didn't like hearing those words?

"How about I make you feel good when we get back home?" He asked, his tone suggesting anything but innocence.

Y/N's breath hitched knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Absolutely"

Sebastian smirked, turning his attention back to the road but he subtly pressed down on the accelerator.

He couldn't wait to get home.

In Emerald Hearts, Emerald Minds - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[mentions of unwanted advances + suggested groping + suggestive/sexual (consensual) themes]

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

SUMMARY: When Vasily asks you to forget his half-brother and marry him instead, you escape the Little Palace along Alina. Nikolai realizes something strange is going on when Kaz mentions seeing a similar emerald ring on the woman that came with the Sun Summoner. With how much you and Nikolai have been running in circles to find each other, the reunion aboard Volkvolny feels almost fated.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.6k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

It feels like the Winter Fete has been going on forever. The champagne keeps on being poured, the guests keep on dancing and the circus acts just keep on performing as though tomorrow is a mere mirage, a concept of a certain time period that never actually comes. Inside those walls of gold and marble, the misery devouring all of Ravka seems like nothing beyond a mad nightmare - something so removed from reality, it’s hilarious in its ridiculousness. Everyone is so carefree and happy you almost take their joy as your own.

Almost.

The orchestra begins playing Waltz of the Flowers and you feel your throat tighten. Despite doing your best not to, your mind relives that fateful night when everything changed. For the longest time, you’d been claiming that the change was for the better but now, standing alone for another year in a row and watching the dashing aristocrats spin to the music, you’re not so sure anymore.

“You really need to stop doing this,” Nikolai says firmly. Although his tone is decisive and clearly unwilling to accept defiance, a pronounced hint of amusement lives between his words - a thread of light-heartedness, one might say.

Your eyebrows gently furrow. “Doing what?”

“Smiling at me like that. Any longer and I might ask you to marry me.”

It feels like you’re about to burst at the seams. Trying to contain your emotions, and failing at it quite horribly, you bite your lower lip. “I might say yes.”

“Where have you gone, Kolya?” you whisper under your breath. The gloss of vacancy covering your eyes blurs the dancing bodies into one mass of faceless strangers. But it also makes you not notice someone approaching you.

“I find it quite admirable.”

Vasily’s voice startles you. To your now-gone relief, you didn’t have the displeasure of running into him all evening - until now. If you were to list all of the things about the older Lantsov son that makes your skin crawl, you’d be done by the time another Winter Fete is organized. The top of the list, however, deserves to be mentioned as it’s an inseparable part of your every interaction with the prince: he’s quite adamant and crude in his desire to be more than just a future brother-in-law to you.

“Excuse me?” you stutter out.

That patronizing look on his face is now accompanied by a cocky half-grin as he realizes he caught you off-guard. “Your devotion to my brother. For all we know, he might be already dead, Saints’ protect him.”

“Don’t even say that!” you hiss at him. Right after, you look around to check whether one of the guests has noticed your unpleasant exchange.

Despite what you’ve just said, you know he’s right. There’s no way you can be sure that your Kolya is either dead or alive. Perhaps this is the detail further ripping your heart apart - you don’t know anything about his fate; you’re mourning, although you’re yet to see the coffin. You haven’t for a few years now and each passing month of silence only made court gossip more cruel and bold.

“All I’m saying, dearest,” Vasily begins quietly as his hand drags along your arm, “is that the moment the news of Nikolai’s death reaches the Grand Palace, you’ll be thrown out. On the other hand, I can make you the Queen of Ravka. And unlike my brother, I won’t disappear off the face of the Earth and forget about his beloved lady.”

The word of endearment is dripping with sarcasm as it leaves his chapped lips. His breath reeks of alcohol and you unknowingly turn your head away. Vasily seems to think you’re about to leave his side, so his hand tightly grips your arm. The hold is almost bruising. He yanks you even closer towards himself.

“Kolya hasn’t forgotten about me,” you say in a shaky voice. Maybe he’s not as foolish as he appears and Vasily is genuinely trying to break you down.

The prince studies your face for a moment, definitely noticing how shaken you are. His eyes have the strangest glint to them - something between desire and contempt. “Is that so?” he barely stifles a grim laugh. “He would have written you a letter if that were true, no?”

Tears sting your eyes. Vasily is certainly smarter, or at least more cruel, than he lets on. He knows exactly what to say to get into your head. It’s a startling difference between him and Nikolai - only one of them does what he can to keep a smile on your face. Well, did.

His dirty, rough hand grabs your chin. Vasily forces you to look at him, his smile wavers upon noticing your desperation. “Consider your options, зайка,” he purrs out. The prince’s other hand trails your face. “The choice is yours.”

A tear falls down your cheek. You feel it rolling across your skin and you silently hope the guests surrounding you are watching this scene. Then, you lean in even closer to Vasily’s face. The whisper leaves your lips like a viper’s venomous hiss: "I will marry you the day you lay his dead body at my feet."

To your surprise, Vasily drops his hands and takes a step back. Despite the self-assured smile on his face, you can see the fury inside his eyes. “As you wish.” He bows curtly, turns on his heel and marches away, undoubtedly looking for another glass of alcohol and a lady naive enough to warm his bed.

The palace suddenly feels stuffy and overcrowded; the music is too loud, the plethora of smells make your head spin.

Outside. You need to get outside.

Bumping into several guests and mumbling half-coherent apologies, you run through the halls of the Little Palace. When the cold, night air hits your flushed cheeks, only then do you stop. Taking in a deep breath, you can actually feel your thoughts becoming clearer. 

With each gust of freezing wind, all the anger and sadness is leaving your shaking body. Vasily just wanted to get a rise out of you and, as much as you don’t want to admit it, he succeeded. Unlike he claims, Nikolai surely is alive. Maybe bruised or sick or not sleeping well but as long as there’s no news about him being dead, he is as alive as one can be. The same starry sky hangs above your and his heads. Perhaps, in this small moment of longing, he’s thinking about you too. Wherever he is.

A tired sigh leaves your lips. You’re about to turn around and go back inside when a silhouette moving in the night catches your attention. The shape is swift although careful like a lizard approaching a fly. You see them looking around before running for another few meters only to hide behind a bush or piece of architecture.

Curious and a little scared, you follow the stranger towards one of the carriages. Quietly, you get close enough to grab their wrist. The shape lets out a gasp and turns around to look at you.

“Alina?!” you whisper. What in Saints’ mercy is she doing? You look at her warm, casual clothes and the bag on her back. “Are you running away?”

“I need to leave,” she answers equally quietly. Her voice as well as her stare is filled with certainty - she’s convinced beyond reasonable doubt this is the right thing to do. “Please, don’t try to stop me.”

You let go of her hand. “Stop you?” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” she deadpans. Alina is staring at you with a vacant stare and her mouth slightly agape. Apparently exchanging royal comforts for hay and stolen apples is unthinkable.

“If I have to spend one more day around Vasily, I will murder someone.”

Alina slowly nods her head - she can definitely understand the sentiment. A dimwitted Fjerdan would have more charm than the older prince. But then she squints her eyes, looking at you with a sense of scepticism.

“Out there, there won’t be warm beds and three-course dinners, you know?”

“I know,” you answer with a careless shrug. Loitering and wandering isn’t for ladies of your sort, it’s like throwing a finless fish into a tank with sharks. Despite that, you’re quite convinced the means justify the end, at least in this scenario. “But out there is my Kolya. And I’m done politely waiting for him.”

A shadow of sadness covers her face. If there’s anyone who can understand your plight, it’s her. In fact, she is luckier than you - she saw her lover maybe an hour ago. Pleasant or unpleasant, the meeting confirmed to her that Mal is at least alive. It’s not a privilege you could afford.

“Then let’s go,” she says to you before opening the chest in the back of the carriage. Forgetting all of your etiquette and social standing, you climb into the compartment with her. Towards adventure or death, you’re going somewhere.

“The ring gave you away,” Kaz announces. “It’s too expensive for a bodyguard.”

Jesper knits his eyebrows together, suddenly remembering something. He leans towards Kaz but speaks a little too loudly for the question to be inconspicuous: “Didn’t that girl wear the same-”

When Kaz’s cold glare meets Jesper’s squinted eyes, the dark-skinned man immediately closes his mouth halfway through the question. Both of them sit back as they were but the cat is already out of the bag. Well, not entirely - half of it is peeking out of the metaphorical sack.

Nikolai looks between them with unmissable suspicion. Although he’s heard enough to be aware of the possibility that the Sun Summoner isn’t travelling by herself, this is the first time either of the Crows admits it.

His heart begins to beat slightly quicker: Alina run away from the Little Palace along with another woman and that lady was wearing a royal jewel at the time. As long as Vasily didn’t lose his signet on one of his distasteful escapades, the course of events points to only one person - you. Shoving his restless excitement into the deepest chasms of his heart, Nikolai manages to remain his composure:

“Who was wearing that ring?” The prince-turned-privateer unknowingly fiddles with the heavy jewellery on his finger. Noticing the Crows’ reluctance, he makes them an offer: “If you tell me who you saw wearing an emerald ring, I might, say, give you ten minutes to escape.” Nikolai vaguely gestures to the closed window on his right-hand side.

Kaz knows there’s no point in lying any longer. The man in front of him is not only well-informed but also smarter than he looks, making the Crow wonder whether he also knows the answer to this question but prefers to play some kind of a game. In any event, he’s done his part of the deal and his ex-accomplices are left to their own devices. Additionally, he could really use those ten minutes. “A young woman that accompanied Alina Starkov. High-born, confident, decisive. Not a Grisha as far as I know.”

“Not a Lantsov, obviously,” Jesper chips in.

Brekker’s keen eyes catch the barely noticeable change in Sturmhond’s expression - the corner of his mouth merely stuttered up and down but it is enough to tell Kaz as much as he needs:

“You know her.”

Know her? If Nikolai had a weaker grip on his emotions at the moment, he’d laugh until his stomach and diaphragm hurt and then he’ll burst with laughter once more, unspeakably joyous that he might get to see her sooner than he thought. Yes, he does know her but in the way heart knows blood and lungs know air. She’s the ligament that keeps his bones together, the fibres that construct his muscles, the very blood that runs in his veins. Does the Moon simply know the stars? Do trees know their roots and branches?

But for now, he needs to stay focused. 

“Not really,” Sturmhond answers while scrunching his nose. “Many aristocrats wear a ring like that. While I may know of a lot of them, I hardly know anything about them.”

Kaz fights back a mocking half-grin begging to twist his thin lips. “I’d argue that an emerald in Ravka is a rather rare gem.”

“Hers is probably genuine. Mine’s stolen.”

Silence falls between the three men. Nikolai and Kaz are staring each other down, battling in some kind of war of wits and nerves, waiting for the other to give in. Jesper is stealing glances at both of them, feeling the cold tension rise in the air.

Against his deep-seated desire, Kaz doesn’t inquire further about the emeralds or the strange coincidence that the two enigmatic characters wearing them might know each other. He sits back in the chair, his shoulders visibly drop. As much as he’d love to dig deeper, he’d much rather get out of here and reclaim his freedom that is now endangered.

“Well, gentlemen,” Nikolai begins in an upbeat tone, “your ten minutes start now.”

Without saying anything else, he leaves the room. Only then, when the dark, wooden door close behind him, does he let suppressed emotions wash over him. A quiet chuckle brushes past his lips and for a moment even tears sting his eyes. Delight, worry, relief - conflicting sensations merge into one, completely overpowering flame burning inside his chest.

Maybe he doesn’t have the Sun Summoner and he still needs to come up with a plan to catch her but Nikolai hasn’t been this happy for a while now: his солиышко is alright, still making the world brighter and warmer. If he can get to Alina Starkov, he might see her again, although he begins to wonder whether she wishes to see him after all those years of silence and ignorance. But if he can see her, just witness the marvel of her entire being even for one last second, he’ll be cured of the longing and loneliness that has been gnawing at him ever since he left Os Alta.

You’re following the Shu man to what you assume is his captain’s cuddy. The ship creeks and groans under the weight of the crew as well as the power of the waves. The bussing crewmen spare the three of you a glance, only to show disinterest and go back to their duties. It’s a nice change compared to the kerchen ship you travelled on to Novyi Zem, where the captain asked Alina and you to stay under the deck because of the sailors’ superstition. After getting off the ship, it took you a good week to wash out the reek of cured cod from your clothes and hair. Sometimes you still felt like you can smell it in the air, even in the dusty wind sweeping through Novyi Zem.

Your ‘guide’ pushes the door and they swing open with a creak, the list of the ship aiding the motion. Except for the squeaky hinges, probably rusting faster than anyone can manage, Volkvolny is in good shape. In fact, it looks brand new - no mould or woodworms.

“Captain, request for charter,” the stocky stranger announces with a hint of amusement or excitement in his voice. Despite his imposing visage, the Shu man has made a good impression on you but the long sword on his back kept you vigilant against getting too comfortable in his company.

Only when he moves to the side, presenting the three of you to his captain, do you see the face of the infamous Sturmhond.

You want to laugh. In fact, you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from bursting out with laughter. This situation feels like the strangest coincidence that you can think of, which in turn makes you suspect that it’s not a coincidence at all. Because what are the odds?

Nikolai’s face momentarily brightens up when he recognizes you, a new glint lights up his eyes. He looks different than you remember but in all the right ways: his shoulders look broader and his hair is longer, curling in a way that makes him appear more infantile. You remembered him as a handsome man but the Nikolai in front of you is beautiful enough to be considered unreal.

He's staring into you like a deer caught in headlights until Tolya hands him Alina’s unusual means of payment. As Nikolai is turning the piece of jewellery in his fingers, you notice another change: his hands look rougher, definitely scarred from all the adventures you hope you’re yet to hear about.

The blond prince turns his attention back to Alina, Mal and you. “A gold hairpin can get you anywhere. But an emerald ring?” He gestures to you. “It can get you everywhere.”

“It’s not for sale,” you answer, although you know he’s not trying to buy it. After all, he’s the one that gave it to you.

“I don’t want it.” Nikolai shakes his head. Then, a flirty smile appears on his face. “Looks better on you anyway, doll.”

You’re about to respond to his remark when his attention is once again placed on Alina. “Now, Tolya says you’re looking for a charter. Where are we sailing?”

Alina begins the story with ‘the creation of the world’ as your mother used to say: the Little Palace, Darkling, Morozova’s amplifiers and the Fold. Nikolai nods along, never giving away that he’s privy to most of the story. He doesn’t believe in the Sea Whip at first but that’s hardly his fault - not too long ago people wouldn’t believe in the existence of the Sun Summoner and now she’s standing beside you, nervously rubbing her hand. As you have expected from the moment you saw that Nikolai is Sturmhond, he agrees to the insanity of taking up the quest to catch the amplifier.

“Tolya will show you around.” He sends you off. You’re about to follow your friends out of the cuddy when he adds: “You, emerald lady, I’d like to talk to in private.”

Alina gives you a concerned look (‘blink twice if you need help’)  but you only smile and nod at her in response. With Mal tugging at her arm, she reluctantly leaves you and Sturmhond alone.

The moment the door closes behind Tolya and your friends, Nikolai runs around his desk towards you, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug. His hand threads through your hair, pushing your head further into the crook of his neck. Even if you tried, there’s no way you can pull away or even move. Taking a deep breath, you smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne but now it’s mixed with the scent of resin, saltwater and seaweed.

Then he pulls away, looking you up and down with burning worry. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

You swear he could be bleeding out on the floor and still he’d be apologizing for staining your clothes. It’s heartwarming that despite the years and evident change in his appearance, Kolya is still Kolya.

A wide smile enters your face. “Looking for a frisky sailor to take me on a voyage filled with indecency, obviously.”

“Well, here he is.” Nikolai points to himself and winks at you. “And he’d really like to know why you’re in Novyi Zem with the Sun Summoner and whats-his-face and not in the Grand Palace in Os Alta.”

You let out a heavy sigh and shake your head gently. “I grew tired, Kolya.” His eyebrows slant upon hearing the exhaustion in your voice. Despite the sheer happiness he feels when you say his name, the concern gnawing at his heart seems to be more powerful. “Years have gone by without you giving me even the tiniest sign that you’re alive and well. And your brother, Saint’s have mercy on him because I won’t, has been adamant about marrying me ever since you left. I told him I will accept his proposal the day he lays your dead body before me.” You make pause, noticing a strange shadow hanging over Nikolai’s face. But he’s not saying anything for a moment, so you finish what you wanted to say: “I had to get away from it all. There’s only so much uncertainty and intruding fingers a lady can take.”

“By the Saints,” he breathes out, “did Vasily lay a hand on you?”

You feel his grip around you tighten but it’s not painful, rather securing. “If you’re asking whether he hit me or forced himself on me, then no, he did not. He did, however, make it abundantly clear what he wants from me. On multiple occasions.”

Nikolai’s face twists in a scowl. The glint that lit up his eyes when he saw you is now gone, exchanged for something dark and unstable. “I’m so sorry, if I knew-”

“I know, love,” you interrupt him. He doesn’t need to announce the ends he’d go to in order to ensure you’re safe and comfortable. Nikolai has never said or done so but you’re fairly convinced he wouldn’t shy away from fistfighting Vasily if he said something less-than-savoury to you. “But neither of us could have known.”

“I promised you’d be safe in Os Alta.”

“And I promised to stay put.” You can’t keep laughter in any longer. You’re not quite sure whether your chuckle is born out of happiness or disbelief. “Now look at us.”

Suddenly, he knits his eyebrows close. At first, you think he’s confused but then the slight rise of his cheeks suggests something closer to contempt or disgust. "Would you actually marry Vasily if he gave you my dead body?"

You can only give him an indifferent shrug. "Maybe?” you ponder aloud. “If you were dead, I would lose all care about what happens to me or with me. In a way, I’d be dead too."

Nikolai takes one of your hands and kisses its fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his warm lips against your skin. “I could never rest in peace knowing how he’s treating you.”

“Having you haunt me would be incomparably better than you just being gone. Everything is better than silence.”

His shoulders slouch. Nikolai looks away from you for a moment, admiring the floor in his cuddy but even this can’t hide his guilt and shame. “I couldn’t have just popped in for a visit. Not anywhere in Ravka.”

"You couldn't even have written me a letter?"

"Someone at the palace would recognize my handwriting. I couldn't risk it."

"Then you could have dictated the letter to one of your crew."

That self-assured, flirty smirk appears again on his face. "And scandalize my crewmen with the things I want to tell you?”

As much as you’ve dearly missed his insufferable humour, at the moment it’s making your skin crawl. “This is a serious conversation, Nikolai,” you state firmly.

“I am serious, солиышко.” The pet name rolls off his tongue with both weight and lightness as though it belongs exclusively to you and no one else can ever claim it as their own. He kisses your hand again but keeps it against his lips for a while longer. Then, he places your fingers on his chest and you can feel the soft thrumming of his heart. “Do you think I never thought about writing to you? That I didn’t stay up at night thinking about what I will tell you when we meet again? Countless letters I have begun only to tear them apart and throw them into the sea or burn them. If some people found out we know each other, you’d be in much greater danger than Darkling following your steps. I’d rather deal with the heartbreak of staying away from you than know I put you in danger because I can’t live without you.”

It brings you a grim sense of comfort that he’s been equally torn as you were over the lack of contact. You never thought about it before but Nikolai must have been worried sick, not knowing whether you’re alright and happy. Has he imagined your plight and misery as often as you did his?

“What did you write in those letters?” you ask in a shaky voice.

“I wrote about how much I miss you, how it physically hurts to consider that you might think I have abandoned you. When I was hungry, cold, tired or sick, only the memories of you made me push on. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d stare at the sky above me and wonder whether you’re looking at the same stars. I wrote that wherever I go, I see your face. You are in every sunrise and sunset, every flower I see and every fire that warms me.” Nikolai lets go of your fingers, placing both of his hands on either side of your face. The softness in his eyes makes you swoon. “I only wrote the truth,” he says slowly, making sure you understand the weight of his words.

Swallowing back tears, you lean into his warm touch. “My beloved, my heart yearns for you?” you jest in a dramatic voice.

A playful smile creeps back unto his lips. “If only my heart.”

“Gross.”

“You wanted a frisky sailor.”

"You’re a pirate, not a sailor.”

"I’m a privateer,” he drones out the word as though it makes a world of a difference.

"Pirate sounds sexier."

Nikolai gives you a fake frown. “Oh, I definitely am a pirate."

Without thinking twice, he’s kissing you. The sensation is just as comforting as you remember. His soft lips are doting on you, growing needier with each peck as though this is some feverish attempt at making up the lost time. 

He pulls away to catch his breath and although you’re panting yourself, you unknowingly chase after him, unwilling to dismiss this carnal desire just yet. Nikolai seems to notice your eagerness - he flashes you a cocky grin and shortly pecks your lips again.

“You crossed Ravka, the Fold and the sea just to find me?” he whispers. His eyes are stuck to your wet, swollen mouth.

“And I’d do it a hundred more times if I had to.”

You exchange a few more hungry kisses, pecking and nipping at each other’s lips, before Nikolai continues the conversation:

“I want to say that I’m flattered but I’d rather not encourage you to do something this stupid and dangerous ever again.”

“Hate to break it to you but you took all the stupid with you.”

He rests his forehead against yours; hot, laboured breaths brush against your flushed cheeks. “I’d like to clarify that I’m not stupid, I just can’t seem to think about anything other than you.”

Nikolai wraps his arms around your waist. In a swift motion, he turns you around and pushes you against the edge of his desk. His strength surprises you when Nikolai effortlessly lifts you and places you atop the table, pushing off maps and navigation essentials. Firm, warm hands are restlessly wandering across your body, unsure where to lay or what to grab.

You gasp quietly when his fingers sneak underneath your shirt. “Is this the indecent part of the voyage, my frisky sailor?”

“By the Saints, I hope so,” he whispers against your lips. Then, he furrows his eyebrows questioningly. “Is that offensive to say around a living Saint?”

“I don’t think Alina heard you.”

His nimble fingers are quickly undoing the buttons on your clothes. “Well, she will hear you in a moment.”

“Gross,” you say with laughter in your voice but the word gets muffled as Nikolai gets back to kissing you again.

Even if the crew did hear you that day, no one dared say a word.

зайка [zay-ka] - bunny (feminine; term of endearment)

солиышко [sol-nee-shko] - little sun (unisex; term of endearment)

[GUNSHOT] [CAR CRASH] [BOOM] [PEOPLE SCREAMING] [SIRENS] [GLASS BREAKS] [DISTANT YELLING] [EXPLOSION] [HELICOPTERS AND NEWS TRUCKS] “...WE’RE REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE—“ [AMBULANCE SIRENS] “MY LEG... MY LEG”

I have a request 🐉

~you can chose the house we are in :3

imagine being betrothed to bran stark (readers father wants her to be queen). after the wedding how would bran act? reader likes him but bran is kinda cold to her but he eventually warms up to reader after he sees all the effort she puts into the marriage. will he fall in love with her?

something like this please and thanks

-lady 🐉

A/N: AHHH this is ADORABLE <33 I decided to write both some headcanons and a fic at the end for this because i liked the plot a bit too much and might have gotten carried away, so apologies for the length! 🥲💞 I hope you enjoy this my dear ^^❤ Also, let's pretend everyone's alive and happy and well, yes? :") another note: originally, i was planning on making the reader either a Reed or a Greyjoy, but since i wasn't so sure which House to choose, i wrote (L/N) so you can refer to your own last name as a House, or, pick whichever house you'd like to be in! Hope this is what you expected dear, i'm getting used to writing for GoT 😂🥲❤

Pairing: Bran Stark x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings?: Long, very. More than expected.

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• You're (Y/N) of House (L/N). Your father has arranged you to marry Brandon of House Stark – expecting you to become the future Queen, eventually.

• Of course, as expected, the previous days before your wedding you had to meet your now future husband and the castle you were going to live in to, at least, get familiarised with each others presence a bit, and as well to get used to your new home.

• Being fairly honest, it took him a bit to get used to the idea of being betrothed to someone, even if he constantly reminded himself that the idea of being betrothed/married to someone was all merely political, and to show union between the Houses.

• His first impression of you, was that you were a rather sweet and lovely girl, but you were still a stranger for him; and a stranger he soon would have to refer as "Wife". He barely knew you properly, since you had only talked for a small bit, and didn't really feel the type of love he's supposed to feel when getting married to someone. But what can he do about it? He's got no other option.

• You, on the other hand, as cold, unexpressive, and introverted as he seemed when you met him for the first time, you couldn't help but develop and instant crush on him. What you liked about him, was how cute he was (despite his awkwardness around you), and how he kept his gentleman behaviour. You were afraid you'd be stuck in an unwanted, abusive marriage like most girls you'd met, but he was quite the opposite – and that was more than enough for you to fall for the coffee-eyed boy.

• The day of your wedding, you were extremely anxious, yet excited about it. Your parents – and his family as well – reassured you everything was going to be just fine, and complimented you quite often in hopes of calming your nerves.

• Bran, as distant as he seemed towards you, also seemed to calm your nerves with his tranquil, shy personality, and with his compliments: making you feel much better, and even, spend a nice time in your wedding, surrounded by people who loved the two of you.

• Your marriage, even if it was sudden and kind of unwanted (at first!) was better than you expected. You tried to be the most loyal, and faithful wife as a girl could ever be, and you were beside your now husband no matter whatever happened. Always helping him out, sticking by his side, defending him when you heard people saying hurtful comments about him, taking him to the garden – whatever you could do to cheer him and have a nice time, you did it.

• ^ And of course, so did he, being the true gentleman he is, even if he's still not fully used to the idea of being married.

• With the passing of time, he eventually grew very fond of you, and became closer. Bran enjoyed your warm presence, it was very calming and you were a very good and loyal companion to him.

• And, from one day to another, oddly enough, Bran suddenly began noticing you more than he often did, even if he was already warming up to you. A particular new sensation for you sparked inside of him, a feeling he's never felt for anybody else, but for you: desire. There was something about you he loved so much, and he wouldn't stop admiring you from afar, even if you didn't notice.

• He thought of you as incredibly kind, sweet, beautiful, and he adored how despite you being incredibly pure and innocent as a dove, free from the cruel stains of the world, you could easily stand up either for yourself or for anybody else without flinching. The way you always put so much effort into your marriage, and how you always tried to give him the best, was something he admired and appreciated a lot.

• He's began taking a particular liking for you, and there's no turning back from that – he has fallen in absolute love for you.

• For Bran, he's uncertain and absolutely clueless about how to properly express his feelings for you, and confess to you that he's in madly love with you. So, to discreetly tell you he loves you, he'd do small things to do so, such as: pulling you closer to him while sleeping (or him cuddling you), complimenting you more often, gifting you jewellery (if you like wearing it, of course), holding your hands more frequently, giving you small kisses on your cheek/forehead, etc.

• You found it odd that he suddenly began showering you with love in small ways, but deep down inside, you enjoyed the particular attention you've been getting from him.

• Even if you're married already (because you had no choice tbh), he'd spend a long time thinking of ways to tell you how he's recently began feeling about you, in a way that doesn't kill him from the anxiety.

• The best way he thought of confessing that he truly loved and cared for you, was doing it while you were showing him the blooming flowers in the usual garden walk you always gave him in the mornings. It was peaceful, nobody would interrupt you, and it was a perfect moment.

• And my final answer for your question? Is yes. He would most likely fall in love with you when he notices how you always try to stick for him by his side, and always try to make him as comfortable as possible in your marriage.

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The warm rays of sunshine delicately hit your faces, as you strolled your husband's wheelchair through the blooming garden. It was your favourite activity to do in the mornings, and even if he wouldn't admit it, he quite enjoyed it as well; helping him relax, and make him forget about everything, at least, for a short while.

Your father had recently betrothed you to Brandon Stark, just a few full moons ago, and quickly got wed. All of this, was only so you could become the future Queen once Bran was named King. For both of you, the idea of being married to someone you barely knew still felt awkwardly odd, even if you knew it was eventually going to happen. Getting betrothed with someone was all purely political, and only to unite Houses. In this case, unite House Stark and House (L/N).

When you met Bran for the first time, a few days before your wedding, as cold and distant as he seemed to be at first, you thought he was cute: which made you develop an intense crush on him. Why? Because, he acted different from the other Lords and future Kings: in your life, you've met several girls who married Lords and future Kings, and sadly, all of them were stuck in an abusive, unwanted relationship. You were absolutely afraid of ending with that same fate, but lucky for you, Bran proved to be the complete opposite of the other future Kings – he was a gentleman with you, and he was polite as well, even if he was quite unexpressive at the moment, naturally. But his personality was what had charmed you.

You thought, the feelings were only one sided – and even if it hurt a bit, you had to accept it. So, despite him probably not experiencing the same interest you had for him, you decided to still be a good wife to him, and stand by his side at least, as a loyal companion who'd try to help him with whatever thing he could possibly need. And how wrong you were to think he couldn't possibly like you.

Your natural sweet, kind, and helping self was more than enough to make him take a particular liking for you, soon growing to become love. It was hard for him to express his feelings for you, as they made him feel anxious, but he loved it when you helped him lay in bed, defend him, stay by his side whenever he needed it, and, like you are currently doing right now: take him to the gardens in the early mornings.

Snapping out of your thinking trance, you took a look at your surroundings, filled with beautiful colours from the flowers. Stopping, and gently touched a rose that has now fully bloomed. “Look, Bran, the roses and the lillies have bloomed so preciously. Some new flowers have bloomed as well, they're so pretty. Don't you think?” Breaking the strangely awkward silence between the two of you, you looked down at him, who was admiring the recently grown flowers as well. “Yes, they're quite beautiful.” Bran said, a small smile forming on his lips, as a contented sigh escaped from you.

As you tenderly touched the petals of the new grown flowers with the tip of your fingers, he noticed a particular odd flower that stood out from the rest. The flower had a strong crimson yet bright colour with some darker red strings that grew from the center, it's shape was different than the rest of the flower – as if it were more vivid, and so mesmerising as well. Bran carefully took the flower from it's stem, and softly raised it to his nose, feeling the sweet, pure smell of the flower – causing him to smile even wider at all the pleasant sensations. As he admired the flower he was holding, he thought, the moment was perfect to do what he's been wanting to do for a while, now: confess his feelings for you. No one was around to bother, or interrupt you, and your surroundings were so calmingly pleasant – it couldn't possibly get any better than that.

Bran couldn't understand why – or how – could you make him feel so nervous. You were already married, and you were very kind to him, yes, but he was afraid you were doing it out of politeness rather than sharing the feelings he had for you. Taking a deep breath, he turned around to look at you, slightly lifting the flower so you could see it; signaling for you to take it from his hand, in a way. It was nearly impossible for him to hide the growing redness on both his cheeks.

“This flower is for you, my love. I believe, it resembles your beauty.”

Looking down at him with wide eyes in surprise, a faint blushing rose your cheeks as well. Lately, he had been becoming a bit more expressive and less distant with you, leaving his cold, awkward nature around you far away. Bran had complimented you many times before, and he became so sweet with you, but never like this, acting very suddenly.

“Wait, why, wha– Really? Why, thank you, darling.” Stumbling upon your words as you began speaking, you offered him a shy smile, not hiding your blushing. You gently took the flower from his hand, and smelt it. “It smells tremendously sweetly, as well.” As you spoke, your voice tone was low. Crouching a bit to him, you placed a kiss on his cheek, which was warm from blushing. “You deserve it, beautiful. You've always been so kind for me, and I feel as I haven't returned you the favour.” Before you could open your mouth to speak, he signaled for you to sit on front of his lap by gently patting it. “Come, and hand me the flower for a second. I have something important to tell you.” Bran didn't even know where all his current courage was coming from, but that didn't matter anymore.

Doing as told, you first handed him back the flower, and continously, you shyly adjusted yourself on his lap, a bit tense from the sudden physical contact you were both having at the moment. Bran placed an arm around your body to properly hold you, as he tenderly tucked the flower behind your ear. He lovingly admired your flustered face for a brief moment, before he spoke. “I must apologise for being so distant and unexpressive towards you when we first met, my dear.” As he lowly spoke, he lifted the hand that tucked the flower behind your ear, only to softly stroke your cheek with his thumb. “I am sure you'll understand the reason of why I acted that way towards you. The idea of being suddenly betrothed and getting wed in a short span of days was a complicated thought to process, as expected as it was for both of us, knowing it'd eventually happen in our lives.” The only thing you could do, was shyly nod in agreement, as he kept spoking. “The idea of getting married merely for political terms rather than getting married for love was disappointing for me. But, I believe, fate has bought us together. I've realised–” Bran made a short pause before he kept speaking, trying to hold his own nervousness, as your heart pounded faster.

“I realised, I can't see my life without you in it now. It started by noticing how attached I became to your genuine sweetness and effort in making our marriage work, allowing me to warm up to your presence, and now, I desire to stay by your side for the rest of my life. I love you, and I am so happy to have been betrothed with you.” His words seemed so genuine and true, that made your eyes get watery with happiness of receiving the love you had terribly longed for since the first moment you met. “I am proud of calling you my wife, I desire no one else, but you. There aren't enough words to express my true feelings towards you which is beyond any possible barriers, my love, but hopefully, this will prove it.” His body began leaning towards you, and naturally, you did the same, until your faces were inches away. Ever so lovingly, the hand that was previously stroking your cheek now went to the back of your head, and pulled you closer to him – your lips finally meeting, in a pure, genuine kiss.

Of course, you had previously kissed in the lips before the day of your wedding, but it didn't feel genuine; it felt rather cold, and forced as well. It had been utterly bittersweet for you. The rest of the kisses you had given to each other, especially these recent days, were small shy kisses given in either the forehead, the cheek, or hands. This precise kiss, felt warm. Warm with the genuine, unstained love he had recently began developing for you in such intense way, that there was no possible physical way for him to prove it, unless you got inside his mind. Kissing his plushy lips was something you've only dreamed for so long, thinking you would never really get to experience his sweet taste – but here you were.

As you slowly pulled apart from him, you slightly gasped for air as a smile began forming on your lips. “I quiet enjoyed that,” You lowly cooed, as you wrapped both your arms around his neck, and placed a loving kiss on the corner of his lips. “But I think, we should get going. If we go missing for too long, they're going to start looking for us.” You said, as you played with some strands of his hair. “Yes, I think we should.” Bran said, placing one last kiss on your chin, as you tried to untangle yourself from him. Before you could place a foot on the ground to stand and go back inside with him, he tightened his grip on your body, and pulled you closer to him once again.

“Allow me to carry my dear wife back inside.” He said, notoriously teasing you, as the red colour on your cheeks slowly began appearing again. “Alright, only if you say so.” Adjusting yourself back on top of him, your arms went back to being wrapped around his neck, some giggles escaping your lips as he wheeled the two of you back inside the castle. Once you got back inside, you received some funny looks from the people who were walking around the halls, and around the castle in general. Seeing the future Queen on top of the future crippled King as he wheels the two of them throughout the halls was certainly not something you saw everyday. Of course, none of you cared about the way other people looked at you.

The two of you were now happy that each others feelings were fully reciprocated, even if it had taken a while to do so after being betrothed and getting married. You were happy that way, and no one would be able to change it.

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@anemic-royaltyy

A PROFESSIONAL INTERVIEW -- sebastian vettel

part 4/5, previous l l next (coming soon!)

pairings! redbull!sebastian vettel x fem!journalist!reader

In which, Sebastian Vettel has always been a cocky, and an annoying f1 driver to interview, but suddenly his tendencies seem more flirtatious than annoying.

note: hopefully this isn't too bad, trying to do character developement! i really enjoyed writing this chapter, even if it was a bit rushed!

taglist! @viennakarma, @chiliwhore, @i-wish-this-was-me, @gcldtom, @sugyomama, @bladestark, @queenofmanydreams, @bb-swift, @leclerking, @fanboyluvr, @killjoynotes

You let out a loud scream the second you woke up and took in your surroundings. 

You had a good night's sleep, opening your eyes, surprised by the lack of a hangover. An arm wrapped around your waist, face buried in the man's chest. He was warm, perhaps a Mongasque from the club. You turned around, and could not contain your scream of horror, surely waking up all surrounding people in the hotel.

What the hell was Sebastian Vettel doing in your bed

And what the hell was he doing naked!

He covered his ears with his hand, and rolled over, once you finally came to clarity and covered your mouth with your hand. Seb turned back over, about to say something before noticing you sitting up against the wall, tits out, and Seb's face dropping in shock. Seb exclaimed something in German that you could only assume was an obscenity as you tumbled out of the bed, fully naked and filled with anger. You pulled on your underwear first, suddenly mad that it was a thong, but you were trying not to panic.

“You better be turned around!” You exclaimed over your shoulder, pulling on your bra. Seb turned back, his face pressed against the pillow.

“I obviously saw you naked last night!” He called out. He looked out of the corner of his eyes as you rummaged through the drawer, trying to find something that could fit you and wouldn’t exactly look like it belonged to Seb. “Can I look back now?” “Whatever, you’re right, it doesn’t matter.” You said, you held up a pair of grey sweatpants. “I’m going to take them.” “Those are my favorite sweatpants.” Seb said.

“I don’t care!” You said, pulling them up, and cinching the waist in.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Seb asked, he seemed slightly frustrated at you. You had assumed his flirting would result in nothing, that was not nothing. Sure, you imagined he didn’t want it to end like a drunk hook up. A few memories returned to you, his confession, your instigation. You had instigated it, why had you instigated it? 

“Maybe if you had your pants on.” You said, tossing a pair of plaid boxers to Seb, he pulled them on, throwing off his sheets and walking closer to you. You moved out of the way, still searching for a top, not planning on leaving in a push up bra. Seb pulled on another pair of sweats. You picked up a hoodie off the floor, it was a plain gray color, matching the sweats, you pulled it on. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You asked, not wanting to talk about it at all.

“You know, we hooked up.” “Yeah.” “What are we gonna do about it?” “I’m on the pill.” “But what about how we interact, does this change anything, should it change anything?” Seb said, leaning on the counter. “It doesn’t have to change anything. We were crazy drunk. There’s an explanation.” You said, looking over at the door, considering making a run for it, quitting your job, and moving in with your parents, or Y/B/F, if you could pay enough rent she’d let you stay.

“I meant what I said, I remember that, at least.” Seb told you, making eye contact with you. You squirmed away from his gaze. “I would like to be more than just-”

“Seb, I can’t do this right now.” You interrupted him, holding up your hand as if to push him away with some sort of telepathic ability. “I’m going to chase Jenson down, get my key, and I’ll see you in Silverstone.” You smiled awkwardly, trying to give him some sort of sense of peace from your words. Seb frowned, giving you a response you didn't expect.

“You’re skipping three races?” “Yeah.” “I won’t see you for a month.” “I always go on breaks during the season. Usually around this time because it makes me feel like I just have some massive summer break. They don’t need me, so I’m not going.” You said with a shrug. Seb mumbled something you couldn’t hear. He looked down at the ground as you said your goodbyes, you felt bad. You wanted to give him a hug, wish him luck on the championship, have a nice time with him in Monaco, but no, you left.

You weren’t quite sure what you did at your parents house. You spent a lot of time thinking too much about your decisions, acknowledged the fact that you had little to no life outside of formula one, and had a good time with your family. You felt somewhat numb, just mulling over your thoughts and rejecting guys in the grocery store. You didn’t even know why you rejected them. You supposed that covered your break.

But now it was time to get back to formula one, and face your suppressed thoughts and actions from the country of luxury, Monaco. You had attempted to keep Seb out of your mind, but he managed to sneak in during late nights and cold mornings. You wish you remembered everything from that night, but you didn’t, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You could hook up with him again, your brain offered, and you let out an annoyed groan, slamming your hands over your face. The mother daughter pair next to you gave you a side eye, but you didn’t care. You pulled on an eye mask, just wanting to sleep.

You woke up in London, the plane landing with a slight jolt. You checked how you looked in a pocket mirror, mascara smeared, bronzer splotchy. You wiped it all off in the airport bathroom, before going out to collect your luggage. You were thankful for the bright colors as you made your way to the parking garage, planning on taking a taxi that usually crowded the garage for people without cars.

“Y/N, over here!” Shouted a voice, you turned around, brows furrowed as Lewis Hamilton waved over to you, jogging over.

“Do you know the work I had to do to get here?” He said, sighing slightly. “To find out about when your flight was landing.”

You hugged him briefly. “You could’ve texted me.”

“You didn’t text back.”

“Did you text me when I was in the air?”

“Probably.” Lewis replied with a shrug. “Anyway, I’m here to take you to the hotel. Figured I’d show up all your other driver servants.”

“You didn’t have to.” You told Lewis, smiling as he rolled your suitcase to the garage, you in tow.

“I kind of did, and you still have to drive.”

“Oh no, I have to drive a beautiful car, whatever will I do.” You said, you pressed your hands over your face to resemble comedic fear. 

“Don’t break any traffic rules.” Lewis told you, chucking your suitcase in the back with no mind for fragilities. “Also, we need to talk.”

You pulled out of the garage. It was a luxury one, and so easy to exit and make your way into the highway, unlike most airport garages.

“What do we need to talk about?” You asked. “Your terrible haircut.”

You didn’t think baldmilton was a look, but Lewis looked serious. “I know about you and Seb in Monaco.”

You froze, turning toward him slowly.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh my god, it's true! I mean the photo looked incriminating, and then the other one of the two of you the day after.” Lewis said slowly, in shock. He examined your expression, certain it reflected your thoughts clearly. “Holy shut, you hooked up with Seb!”

“What photo?” You asked. “Lewis, was there a photo of me going into his hotel room?”

“You didn’t know about it?” Lewis asked. “Have you been under a rock these past weeks?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed. “Where is Seb staying? We’re going there.”

You pounded against the door of Seb’s airbnb, shouting into the wood for Seb to open the door. Lewis placed one hand high on the doorway, ready for Seb to open the door.

“I’m coming, Ficken!” Seb shouts, you heard him jogging to the door, and tried to decide what expression to put on your face. Seb swung open the door, seeing Lewis before you. “Hey, Lewis.”

“Good afternoon.” Lewis said with a smile.

“Hey, Seb,” You said, interrupting their friendship. He looked over at you, a smile appearing on his face before he switched it to a “cool guy” look. “Um, we need to talk.” “You were serious when you said you’d tak in the UK?” Seb asked, placing his hands on his waist.

“Yeah, I was, but we also need to talk about the photo.” You said, pursing your lips together. Seb nodded, gesturing for the two of you to come inside.

“Are you sure you guys want me here?” Lewis asked, crossing his arms. “Yes.” You and Seb replied at the same time. You sat down on the small kitchen table, Seb taking the seat across from you, and Lewis taking the comfortable loveseat in the corner.

“So, what about it do you want to discuss? We can’t take it down, everyone’s seen it, and we did exactly what they’re saying.” Seb told you.

“Well I don’t want to get fired.” You said, you hated that Seb was right. You couldn’t do anything to make it better. “You aren’t going to get fired.” Lewis reassured you.

“You really aren’t, I checked with your boss.” Seb added on.

“Seb! You told my boss we hooked up!” You exclaimed, wanting to slam your head against the table.

“No, I didn’t! I told her you slept in the guest bedroom.” Seb shouted in defense. You let out a sigh of relief.

“So now you just deny deny deny to the other journalists.” You said, and Seb nodded. 

“Or we could just say we’re dating.” Seb offered, and you frowned.

“I don’t want to lie about things like that, Seb.” You admitted. Call yourself a romantic, but you only had a few relationships, and you didn’t want to lie about one, especially not when feelings were starting to sneak in for the person who offered it.

“Okay,” Seb replied. The three of you sat in silence for a bit, before Lewis finally spoke,

“Y/N, what interviews are you doing this week?”

“Mark, Seb you got left out, Alonso, and your best friend, Nico!” You told Lewis, counting off the names on your hands. “Also Micheal, which I’m super excited for.” “Have you met Nico and Micheal before?” Seb asked, playing with a napkin on the table between his fingers. You felt the sudden urge to take his hands in yours, but suppressed it.

“Yeah, I’ve interviewed them both a few times, and last year Nico and I sat next to each other on a flight from Japan to Monaco because first class had no seats.” “I feel like you and Nico would get along.” Seb commented, you raised an eyebrow. “Why?” You asked. Sure, you and Nico had gotten along fine during the flight, but you weren’t sure what they were talking about and Seb appeared to ont want to explain it to you, but Lewis jumped in.

“You two are drama queens, and I’m allowed to say this because Nico is my best friend and I think you and I are close enough for me to say that.” “I’m not dramatic!”

“You screamed when you realized we had hooked up, actually screamed.” “You don’t need to remember that, and Lewis doesn’t need to know it.” You told Seb. You picked up your bag, and turned to Lewis. “I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You bid him a small smile, waving to Seb, and grabbing your bag as Lewis trailed behind you.

Silverstone would turn out to be boring, Mark won, and the Mercedes boys were nice. You would be kind to Seb in Germany, as it was his home race, and in Hungary you would frown, and try to avoid attention. You suppose you would have had a better time if it hadn’t been for the lasting effects of the stupid photo. You hadn’t been fired, which you were endlessly grateful for, but the gripes and comments were enough to ruin whole weekends. Your dear friend Y/B/F obviously noticed this over calls, and so all the sudden you were invited to a villa in Ibiza.

How she made this happen? You had no idea. How the two of you didn’t have to pay a cent? Again, a wonder. She made magic happen, and you loved it. You were glad you didn’t have any summer plans, and had packed various bikinis and adorable summer outfits in case some sort of miracle happened.

Now you were landing in Ibiza, ready to party it up, swim in the ocean, and get drunk off your mind. In any order.

Seb didn’t know why he had decided on Ibiza. Peer pressure, maybe? Jenson was, Lewis was, Nico was, even Fernando and Mark were going. Seb had spent the first four days on the beach. Despite his young rouge persona he had cultivated, he wasn’t the biggest fan of parties and the whole playboy life every other formula one driver had. Seb could flirt around, it was almost like his second job, but at the end of the day he wanted a girl to go home with. He lay in his bed in the dead of night, the sound of waves crashing against rocks rushing through his window, and the sound of Lewis and some model fucking sneaking through the walls. Seb pressed his hands to his ears, and sat up.

A run, he should go for a run. Seb walked over to his drawers, pulling on sweat shorts and a black crewneck. He grabbed his phone, and headed downstairs. Certainly he couldn’t wake anyone more than the driver sleeping in the room on the far right. His phone rang loudly and suddenly. Seb rushed outside, that could have woken somebody asleep on the bottom level.

“Who is it?” Seb asked, not prepared at all for the next conversation. “Seb!” A voice gleefully called through the phone. “You picked up!” “Y/N?” Seb asked, in genuine confusion, what were you doing calling him at one in the morning.

“Yeah, it’s me, so I know you’re in Ibiza.” You told Seb, lowering your voice to a whisper.

“I am, are you?” Seb asked, confused. “Why are you calling me at one in the morning?”

“Why are you up this early in the morning? Okay, so these people my friend and I are staying with say I need to get a ride home because I can't handle my alcohol or something.” You complained, slurring your words. You couldn’t handle your alcohol. “I don’t know, so I called you. Is there any chance you can pick me up?” Dead silence over the line.

“Yeah, I can.” He told you, going inside and grabbing the keys to the rental car. Fate must really have wanted him and Y/N to get together, or his delusions. “What bar are you at?” “You’re an actual savior, Seb.” You said, sounding genuinely grateful as you told him the name of the bar. “Okay, I’ll be sitting on a chair against the wall when you get here.”

You hung up before Seb could offer to stay on call. He thought he was supposed to be the blunt one. He drove easily through Ibiza, enjoying the convertible porsche. It was hot in Ibiza, but slightly colder in the night, and the warm wind made it much more enjoyable. The club he arrived at was massive, and when he bypassed the bouncer – pulling the driver card, he found that it was even bigger inside. Neon lights blasting from the dj booth, and fake plants covering the walls.

A chair against the wall, Seb wondered, this place is massive, and is there even a chair in here?“Yo! Yo!” Someone called out. Seb looked up, furrowing his brows as a girl pushed past people to get to him. “Yeah, you! Blondie!” “Blondie?” Seb asked, pointing at himself. She nodded, stumbling over and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re Sebastian Vettel right?” She asked, 

“Listen, I’m looking for someone, it’s kind of late, I don’t really want to sign anything right now.” Seb told her, looking around the massive room for any sign of a fucking chair.

“Ugh, you are a jerk.” She said, an image of disgust on her face. “I’m the girl you’re looking for’s best friend! Yeah, Y/N, do you know her?”

“Y/N said I was a jerk?” Seb asked, of course this girl was your best friend, and he managed to seem like a total asshole.

“Yeah, anyway follow me.” Y/B/F said, grabbing Seb’s shoulder and dragging him through a massive crowd. You were not in fact sitting on a chair, but a bucket, and essentially jumped into Y/B/F’s arms the second you noticed her.

“Hey babe.” Y/B/F said, handing you over to Seb with slight ease. She whispered into his ear, “She’s on eight drinks Y/N, so about to be possibly sick, and have many epiphanies.” Seb placed his hands on your shoulders as you first noticed him.

“Oh! Seb, this is my best friend in the whole world.” You said, smiling at Y/B/F. “And also the person who ruined Ibiza.” “You wouldn’t have Ibiza without me.” Y/B/F said, sliding a massive tote bag over to Seb. “Also, I hope you can crash on his couch because . . . ,”

With the smile the two of you exchanged, Seb assumed Y/B/F was going to be doing the same activity as Lewis was occupying himself with that very night. “Okay know get the fuck out of here before you throw up or pass out on top of somebody.” Y/B/F said playfully. “Love you!!” “Love you too!” You called back, latching onto Seb’s arm and immediately putting your entire body weight on him. “Thank you so much, Seb.” “Yeah, anytime.” Seb said, pretty sure he actually meant it. He pushed open the door, taking in a breath of actual fresh air.

“Let me guess, the porsche-uh.” You said, slurring your words heavily. Seb nodded, opening the convertible door for you and dropping you in the seat as he took his place at the driver's seat. You wore a tube top and a sarong, the sunburn around the halter bikini top and bottoms indicating a day spent at the beach.

“Did you have an eventful day?” Seb asked, you nodded, leaning across the central console to press your cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah, but I think I should quit clubbing.” You told him honestly. “I always do stupid things.”

“Mhm, like hook up with me.” Seb commented. He could feel your frown through his shirt.

“I think if I hadn’t been drunk it wouldn’t have been too much of a mistake.” You told him. “I would’ve been sneakier.” 

“Sneakier?” Seb asked, smiling despite himself. He had to remember, you weren’t you after eight drinks of whatever alcohol you had consumed that night. Most likely some Spanish drink the bartender made up to scam tourists. You suddenly sat up straight, hand covering your mouth.

“Pull over.” You said, dead seriousness.

“What?”

“Pull over right now!” You shouted, clutching the door of the convertible. He swerved to the edge of the road. You essentially fell out of the car, he jumped out, rushing over to you and managing to pull your hair out of your face just in time as you threw up, not once, not twice, but three times on the concrete sidewalk. “Ugh, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Seb said, lifting you up slightly and seating you on the passenger's seat once more. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, less drunk I think.” You said, grabbing the massive tote bag Y/B/F had handed Seb. “Luckily I actually packed everything I’d need in case every terrible thing occurred tonight.”

You then pulled out a toothbrush and a toothpaste stored in a small plastic bag, and efficiently began brushing your teeth. Seb glimpsed the driver’s villa in the distance, and turned over to you.

“You’re okay with sleeping on the couch, right?”

“I’m fine as long as I can sleep.” You said, spitting the toothpaste out over the side, and collapsing back in the seat. You were slurring your words less now, but it was still there. “I’m just so fucking tired.”

“You’ll be able to go to sleep in a second, don’t worry.” Seb said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as well. Exhaustion was supposed to be contagious, wasn’t it? Who knew, it seemed like whatever you felt affected Seb.

“Okay.” You said, clutching your bag like a pillow. He pulled to a stop in the driveway, helping you out of the car, essentially being half-carried the entire way through the door.

The massive windows facing the beach illuminated the living and kitchen, exposing a sight Seb wasn’t sure he was ready to see. Lewis and his hookup nude filling up two separate bowls of cereal.

“Hey Seb.” Lewis said with a nod. His face changed expressions instantly to surprise and slightly happy when he noticed who you were with. “Look who you found!”

“Hey, Lewis.” Seb said, resisting the urge to cover your eyes.

“Hey.” You said with a smile. You turned to the model next to him, and smiled at her. The woman smiled back. “You have very nice boobs.”

“Thank you.” She replied with a wide smile. “You have nice ones too!”

You smiled, and the model girl waved you a farewell as she and Lewis returned, Lewis holding two bowls of cereal. They covered his nipples at least.

“Are they going to eat cereal while having sex?” You asked, mouth slightly agape. 

“You can go and ask if you want.” Seb offered.

“I’m good.” You said, laying down on the couch, and rummaging through your massive tote bag.

“Do you want me to grab you blankets?” Seb asked.

“Duh.” You replied, pulling out a pair of black shorts from your bag. Seb turned around and essentially sprinted up the stairs to grab a handful of blankets from the closet. When he came back. You had changed into a gray baby tee, and black cotton shorts, face squished into a pillow. Seb smiled at the image of you asleep, memories brought back to the days he had been an absolute asshole, and you hated him. Developement? He placed the two blankets on your resting form, slightly surprised at how quickly you had managed to change and fall asleep. 

“Good night.” Seb whispered.

“Are you leaving?” You mumbled.

“What?” Seb asked, slightly frozen above you. “Why aren’t you staying?” You asked, grabbing his hand tightly and pulling him closer. “You want me to sleep on the couch with you?” “Mhm, you’re warm. Like a human heater.” You mumbled, wrapping your arm around his forearm. Seb frowned slightly, not quite sure what the right move would be, choosing to sit down on the edge of the couch. He leaned his back against the pillow. You adjusted your sleeping position, resting your head on Seb’s chest and wrapping your arms around his waist in a way that made Seb nervous to move too much. “My not so sweet human heater.”

You woke up later in the night, maybe four or five am. Slightly hungover, and intending on closing your eyes once more as you looked up at Seb. His eyes were fixated on the wide windows overlooking the beautiful ocean. You wished you could know what he was thinking behind those baby blues.

next (coming soon)

HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS!!!! Slow Down (RK900 x Reader NSFW Oneshot)

A/N: hehehehe we're at 100 followers now so i thought—hey, let's celebrate by posting something ~ s p i c y ~

Slow Down (Nines x fem!Reader)

Nines is acting weird.

You decide to figure out why.

Tags: Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Is Bad at Feelings, Sex Pollen (but like a virus), idk don't question it too much, Smut, Shameless Smut, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Reader-Insert, No Y/N, Semi-Public Sex

Read here or on AO3.

Something about Nines has been… off since you left the crime scene together—a WR400, ripped to pieces, in the slums of Detroit; her joints wrenched apart, wires twisted and torn; components, dozens of them—broken, modified, scattered the floorboards of an old, rotting house; thirium, pooling underneath, splattering the walls in grotesquely abstract shapes and patterns.

It had been hard to look at.

You had suggested interfacing with her—it had seemed like a good idea, at the time. You figured maybe, if there was any latent information floating around in her CPU, maybe Nines could find it.

Maybe it would help you find who did this to her.

It could be the best lead you were going to get, you’d said. And he had agreed.

But maybe that had been a mistake.

You glance over at him from the passenger seat of your car, worrying the inside of your lip between your teeth as you scan his profile.

It’s dark—nearly midnight—but the intermittent light from the passing streetlamps is more than enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way he sits ramrod straight, fingers digging into the surface of your steering wheel. It’s more than enough to see how his his brows furrow. How they’re knitted together into a deep scowl.

He stares ahead, ignores you even though you know he knows you’re watching him, watching the LED at his temple flicker a dull yellow, cycling around and around and around. You look back down at your hands, resting awkwardly on your lap. Take a moment to pick at the non-existent dirt underneath your nails.

The moment he’d touched her—artificial skin retracted, revealing smooth white plastic and unfeeling steel—he’d recoiled, like he’d been burned.

And he’s been acting so weird since.

You clear your throat. “Hey, uh, are you—”

“I’m fine, Detective,” he says. Snaps, really.

“Right,” you murmur, shifting in your seat. You turn your head to stare out the window. Lean your forehead against the glass and let out a quiet sigh, watching as Detroit slides by in gloomy twilight, blurred by rain that streaks across the window.

You try not to think too hard about the way he’d jerked away from you when you touched his shoulder; how he’d flinched when you handed him your keys and just barely brushed his open palm.

The rest of the drive passes in stiff silence, and by the time you make it back, the station is nearly deserted, with only a few bleary-eyed humans and a handful of androids wandering the premises.

Nines is careful not to touch you when he drops your keys back into your hand. Ignores the concerned look you give him and strides towards his desk. You follow, trail after him and sag down into the squeaky swivel chair at your desk.

You chance another glance over at him, across your connected desks. You lean forward on your elbows, watching his LED, a steady amber that flashes red when your gazes meet. Just as you open your mouth to speak, he stands.

“Excuse me,” he says, swallowing thickly.

And then he’s gone.

You chew at your bottom lip again, watch him leave the bullpen and turn down the hall that leads towards the server room. You let out a frustrated breath, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper under your breath.

The guilt gnawing at you starts to grow. It flowers in the empty spaces between your ribs—it sprouts tendrils that wrap around your lungs, thorns that dig into your thudding heart.

It had been your idea, after all.

Maybe you should go apologize.

You shake your head—you should just finish your paperwork and give the android some space, especially if he’s upset with you. You should just give up trying to understand the innerworkings of CyberLife’s most advanced prototype (he’s made it abundantly clear that you’ve failed at that particular endeavor so far). You should just mind your own goddamn business and go home.

But here you are. Standing up, pushing away from your desk to follow after him.

You shove your hands in your pockets as you round the corner. Try to act nonchalant as possible while you walk down the empty hallway and up to the server room door. It’s dark when you get there, which is—admittedly—a little odd, but you don’t think too hard about it, pushing inside before you lose your nerve.

It’s quiet. Really, really quiet. And real fucking cold, too.

You start walking down the center aisle, glancing up and down the rows of blinking servers as you pass them.

“Nines?” you call. “You in here?”

Something sends a shiver down your spine.

“I, uh… I know you said you’re okay,” you ramble, wandering over to a metal table hidden in the back corner of the room, playing idly with one of the spare cables coiled on top, “but I feel like you’re angry at me or something so—”

You’re pushed up against the wall, hard. Fast.

Panic seizes your throat. You fumble for the empty holster at your belt, then recognize the black and white jacket, the steely eyes glaring down into yours.

“Nines, what the fuck,” you hiss, planting your hands on his chest to push him off of you. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You shove as hard as you can, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even budge.

“…Nines?”

His shoulders are heaving. LED pulsing a bright, angry red. “You need to leave.”

His words are sharp, rough, and it sends a jolt of fear through you.

“Okay, sure, just—” your voice shakes. You start to notice the heat bleeding through the fabric of his uniform. “A-are you overheating or something?” you mutter. “You’re—”

You barely choke back a yelp as he grabs your jaw with one hand.

He stares down at you. Forces your head back until you can’t do anything but stare back at him, can’t do anything but bare your throat and melt in pools of molten silver. You blink—absolutely dumbstruck.

Your heart hammers inside your chest, so hard, so frantic, you’re afraid it might burst. Your face flushes—you know he can hear it, know he can feel it, the way your body responds to his—and suddenly, it’s way too fucking hot in here.

He leans down, keeps you against the wall with fingers that burn against your skin. You feel his breath ghosting across your skin, feel his other hand digging into your waist.

You don’t know what to do—don’t know what the fuck is happening.

He mouths at your collarbone and you jolt, fingers flexing in the soft fabric of his shirt. He dips his tongue into the hollow of your throat, traces its shape and hums as he catalogues the taste of your skin. The whimper falls from your mouth before you can stop it.

“Nines-”

And then he’s kissing you. Crushing his mouth to yours.

You struggle to keep up, pressed further into the wall by the intensity, the heat of him. He bites down on your lower lip, so fucking hard it breaks the skin and you taste blood—whimper and moan and let his tongue dip into your mouth and tangle with yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, twist your fingers in his perfect hair and swallow down every perfect throaty groan he gives you. You arch your back. Press up into his torso, his hips, the hardness you feel against your stomach.

He grabs the backs of your thighs, lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist, and kisses you harder, shoves his tongue so fucking far into your mouth you almost choke on it. He ruts against your clothed core, and the friction, the pressure against your clit—fuck—it makes your eyes roll back.

He carries you over to the metal table, drops you down onto its surface and manhandles you onto your stomach. Drags your pants—your underwear—down just far enough to expose your dripping sex.

“N-Nines!” you yelp, pushing up onto your elbows just to be shoved back down flat, his hand planted firmly between your shoulder blades. You hear him unbuckle his belt, hear him yank his zipper down. “Hold on—”

“Can’t—” he grunts, dragging the fat head of his cock up and down your folds. Your hear lurches, and your hips jerk backwards—you can’t help it.

He sinks into you fast. Filling you so suddenly, so full you feel it in your throat.

You cry out—the stretch, the burn—loud and long and broken off by the hand that clamps around your mouth. That pulls you back to meet his thrusts.

“Quiet,” he hisses. He grabs your hip with his other hand, shifts them so he can hit you deeper, so that he can hit that spongey spot inside you that has you weeping, begging him, muffled by his fingers, to give you more.

White-hot pleasure sears in your center, electric. It pulses harder, as his hips snap into yours, coils tighter with each drag of his head against your walls. You whimper and whine, thrust backwards because you want more—need it.

Your whole body tenses, then fucking shatters—clamping down around his cock.

He pounds into you, fucking relentless. Again and again and again. You splutter nonsense, tears rolling down your cheeks, seeping between his fingers. Begging for him to stop—to go harder. His hips stutter, and he groans, voice staticky and distorted and so fucking hot, pumping you full of his artificial release.

Before you can even begin to catch your breath, before you can really register that he’s let go of your mouth, he flips you over onto your back. Yanks your pants off entirely and grabs your legs, pressing them back flat against the table by the backs of your knees—wide fucking open.

“Fuck, N-Nines,” you whimper, hands splayed out against his abdomen. “Slow down, I-I can’t—”

He drives into you again before you can say anything else. Kisses you deep. Hard. Sucks your tongue into his mouth while he fucks you into the table. Swallows the needy moans, the pathetic, broken whimpers that fall from your mouth.

The stretch. The drag. It’s too much. The way he holds you down. The way he makes you take it. The way pleasure—exhilarating, excruciating—builds and builds and builds; the way it crashes into you and you see white.

He’s filling you again. Painting your insides. Fucking the cum that leaks out back into your abused hole, rolling his hips up into yours. You push on his chest, thrash and writhe underneath him.

He pulls out, pumping into his fist, and cums again—splattering your stomach in artificial release.

The room descends into a fragile stillness. You lay, staring at the ceiling, panting. 

“Are you alright, Detective?” he asks eventually, and you manage a weak nod.

“I…” he trails off, tucking himself back into his jeans and righting his jacket. “I apologize, Detective. The interface with the Traci… It… Something happened.”

“Mm?”

He clears his throat. “However, that seems to have… Have cleared the error from my systems.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, nodding again. “Just, uh… Just let me know if you ever need to defrag your hard drive or… or empty your junk mail or something. I’d be, ya know… willing to help out.”

He shoots you an unappreciative glare.

“You should get dressed,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah I will,” you say. “I just need a second. Can’t really feel my legs yet.”

He looks away, but you can feel the smug look on his face.

You can’t really find it in yourself to care though.

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