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appocalipse · 3 months

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MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day.

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it.

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?"

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground.

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake.

You're late.

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve.

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words.

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely.

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."

You laugh.

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes. You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary.

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly.

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind.

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in.

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out.

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next.

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing.

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more.

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away.

What the hell was that?

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve x you #steve x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington drabble

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maraczeks · 1 year

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#end of year review except this is probably the most Lived™️ year and i wanna whisper it #jan - got sc*mend hated myself but also i watched the newsroom and went to seattle w renata!!!#feb - turned 20 🤢 but i met the reid's this month that's all i remember spring sem was a blur #march - spring break i watched the newsroom again but i don't remember the experience also dc and cherry blossoms and prepping clue week aw #april - agong passed away i don't remember a lot else oh and started wr*ting because of that :( still remember watching chuck finale w laura #and tash that night :( mightve declared music major this month also i know i started working on the concerto #may also a blur at this point having met the reid's every week and jamie's hug when i gave her the snacks 🥺🥺 also maple and curo aw finals #etc being saur excited for ireland and bath omg but ten days in charlottesville and then IRELANDDD cliffs of moher my home #june bath program literally best housemates rereading austen and mhairi so good gojng to london and oxford genuinely so good i love travel a #and pubs and yeah just so many treasured memz #july getting covid 😭😭 terrible worst time of my life being alone in my parents house no actually like i realized i really hated myself lolol #aug wisdom teeth removed 😭😭 july/aug a blur seeing hs friends visitng angela's convent aw sunsets and then driving cross country with my par #parents bruh... cannot believe we did that and then ra training #sept also a blur lots of hanging in anna and ty's room not the most exciting classes idk that was so long ago but ohhh picnics and kayaking #w the reid's and then hurricane weekend and spending like the whole afternoon w them sweet sweet times #oct terrible busy packed taking my harp out every weekend ew but it got restrung ! weddings were also really fun but ya too busy then hallow #oh i forgot howloscream <3 and then i got sick and wmso halloween concert fun times #nov i barely remember the beginning like. nothing happened and then thanksgiving break ! lovely lovely sunken picnics and time alone and mor #family times w the reid's :') and omg the neighbors hosting us was literally one of the best times ever they're sooo sweet black friday shop #ping was so fun too then suddenly it's december ?????? the two weeks btwn tksgv did not exist but ahhh miss jellison's hug omfg best person #in the world i love her then wcc cofm advent joy week was so special then this past week kinda one of the worst weeks witnessing laura and h #er family lose her mom 😣😣😣😣 god #in conclusion : jaimie evie and miss jellison hugs :( cried practiced wrote the most this year omg i cant believe i forgot to mention bsf on #e of my strongholds and things keeping me upright i feel like this last semester was the closest i've been and most dependent even when i #didn't have the feeling like i was learning to constantly depend and praise Him it's incredible and i feel so so loved by my Father by the p #ppl He loves me through so. it's almost midnight on the east coast 2022 you were lived and loved.#dec 31 2022 #i also forgot joining small group and actually getting involved in acf truly one of the best parts of campus #best media the newsroom and 27 dresses !!!!

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voidpetrova · 8 months

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watch your back — carl gallagher x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, drunk sex, body worship, vouyerism, masturbation, squirting, dirty talk, lip is a perv, all the characters in the fic are over the legal age of consent

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: one of the gallagher brothers is having their way with you, while one of the others can only stand by and wish it were them

✧.*

the neon lights of the alibi room flickered behind you as you stumbled down the dimly lit sidewalk, carl's arm draped over your shoulders for balance. laughter bubbled up from both of you as the alcohol in your systems worked its magic, making every step an adventure in itself. the night air was cool, a welcome relief from the warmth of the bar.

“did you see the look on kev's face when he dropped that tray?” carl slurred, his words tinged with amusement.

you stiffled your laughter, a giggle escaping your lips. “and how v nearly tackled him for it? classic.”

carl's grin widened as he gazed down at you, his eyes slightly glazed but filled with affection. “you're fucking amazing, you know that?” you leaned into him, playfully nudging his side. “only when i'm three shots and a cocktail in.”

as you reached the front door of the gallagher household, carl fumbled with the keys for a moment before finally managing to unlock it. the door swung open, revealing the familiar chaos of the home. you both stumbled inside, laughter echoing through the hallway.

“home sweet home,” carl declared, his arm still draped over your shoulders as he led you further into the house.

you both swayed slightly as you made your way to the kitchen, the room bathed in the soft glow of the overhead light. the scent of leftover takeout and a hint of spilled beer lingered in the air.

“can you get me a beer?” you slurred as you dropped down to the kitchen floor, legs spread in a manner you would have thought twice about if you were sober. carl shot you a smile, already two steps ahead of you as he waved the bottle that was already in his hand before throwing it at you. “you know me so well.”

he cackled at the way you nearly dropped the bottle, shaking his head. “dude, you're fucking wasted.” With a playful roll of your eyes, you managed to pop the cap off the beer and take a long swig, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “i'm living my best life right now.”

while your laughter grew louder, lip gallagher felt himself stirring from his sleep in the room upstairs, his curiosity piqued by the commotion. your whispers and laughter, though still playful, became a bit too raucous, the noise gradually seeping into lip's consciousness. he groaned, rubbing his eyes as he got up from the makeshift bed he'd crashed on earlier in the night. groggily, he shuffled into the kitchen, his disheveled appearance drawing no attention from you two. you hadn't even notice him there. he wanted to say something, but he froze in his tracks when he saw you with his brother.

“this is the last time i let you go out like this,” carl slurred, referring to what you were wearing. it was nothing too scandalous, but he knew he couldn't look away when your breasts were pushed up together, spilling out of your dress, the fabric outlining your ass and waist in the worst way possible. “had the nerve to beat up about 12 different guys tonight.””

your laughter bubbled up again as you playfully nudged carl, the flirtatious energy between you two palpable as you climbed into his lap, snaking your arms around his neck. “you really are my hero.” carl smirked, his fingers grazing the exposed skin of your thigh. “damn right.”

lip, still standing unnoticed in the doorway, a mixture of amusement and disbelief settling over him. the sight before him was unexpected, to say the least. he had no idea things had progressed this far between you and carl. he knew he needed to look away, but all he could do was stand there and watch. he watched the way your bare thighs hung out exposed, tits poking out from the side, your ass pressed against his brother's jeans. he swallowed his nervousness, ignoring the way his jeans tightened at the sight of you.

as the flirtatious banter and playful teasing continued to fill the air, the magnetic pull between you and carl seemed to intensify. his fingers gently traced the curve of your jaw, his touch sending shivers down your spine. you felt your breath hitch as his gaze locked onto yours, the world around you narrowing to focus solely on each other.

without a word, his lips descended towards yours, his movements slow and deliberate. the anticipation was almost unbearable, your heart pounding in your chest as your lips grew tantalizingly close. the soft warmth of his breath danced across your skin, and then, finally, his lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss.

the sensation was electric, a rush of warmth flooding your senses as your lips moved against his. the kiss started tenderly, as if testing the waters, but the desire between you both quickly overtook any hesitation. his fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you in closer, and your arms wound around his neck, drawing him impossibly near.

his lips were soft yet demanding, a perfect balance between urgency and gentleness. each press of his mouth against yours sent waves of heat through your body, the chemistry between you igniting like a wildfire. your lips moved in sync, a rhythm born from unspoken longing and shared attraction.

carl's kiss deepened, his tongue gently seeking entrance, and you parted your lips with a soft sigh. the taste of him was intoxicating, the mingling of desire and the faintest hint of alcohol creating a heady concoction. your tongues danced together in a sensuous exploration, a dance that felt both familiar and new.

time seemed to slow as the kiss deepened further, the world outside the kitchen fading into obscurity. the room was filled with the sounds of heavy breaths and the wet, delicious sounds of your mouths moving against each other. every touch, every sensation, seemed to reverberate through your entire being.

your fingers traced the contours of his strong jaw, the heat of his skin searing into your memory. his grip on you tightened, his hand moving from your hair to the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer as he began to lift your dress. the intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a combination of pent-up desire and the freedom that came with the intoxicating mix of alcohol and desire. lip was still watching from the sidelines—of course, he wasn't watching his brother. he was watching you, the tightness in his boxers waking him up fully.

“take it off, princess,” carl snarled into your mouth, slurring his words ever so slightly. “take the dress off for daddy.” lip mentally cursed himself as he watched, only able to beg the man above to bring this to a halt. he wished that you wouldn't comply, so that he could look away and retreat back to his room, but when he heard you giggle, he knew there was no going back.

you pulled the dress off your head, discarding it onto the floor, leaving you in nothing but a bra and thong. carl groaned at the sight of you, feeling the way his jeans only grew tighter and tighter, but he wasn't the only one losing his cool.

from the sidelines, lip whispered a quiet “fuck,” under his breath as he admired your curves, all of you. you were the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen, and he couldn't do much about it. the only thing he could do was quietly pull his pajama bottoms down, along with his boxers. he quietly hissed at the cool air caressing his bare cock, but he couldn't resist himself. he needed you to take care of his urges.

“all mine,” carl groaned as he pulled you in for another aggressive kiss. he groped your tits with a force that was bound to bruise you, exploring your mouth with his tongue. your bra came off in an instant, bare tits now free to hang right under his chin. he switched positions, with him now practically on top of you, but your back pressed to the kitchen drawers. “need you so fucking bad.”

lip watched you from an amazing angle, his spit-slicked hand stroking his cock in slow, agonizing motions. he watched you from the side, admiring the way moans passed your lips, tits bouncing with every move. he licked his lips, stiffling grunts as he jerked himself off.

carl's hands roamed your body, groping everything he could touch. he left a trail of kisses down your stomach before sliding your panties down with his teeth. “jesus fucking christ,” he practically moaned as he admired your pussy. “dripping all over the fucking floor.” his words only fueled lip's experience, and he was right, you were gonna stain the tiles with your slick. you whined as his hot breath fanned your core, lips leaving faint kisses along your inner thighs before his tongue began prodding your clit. “can't help it, daddy,” your fingers tugged at his blond locks, pulling him in closer with a groan of delight. “need you to fuck me so bad.”

lip sighed as your voice filled his ears, spoiling himself by massaging his balls and taunting thebslit of his dick. all he could think about was you—on your knees, helping him out with the same generosity carl was used to.

“you want daddy to fuck you, huh?” you nodded eagerly, pressing one of your bare feet to his crotch and he quickly began undoing his belt. “so needy you can't wait five minutes, huh princess?” you shook your head, desperate sounds leaving you as you pressed your bare back against the cold wall.

“so needy, daddy, need you right now,” you moaned in response. carl grinned, sliding his bottoms off with no hesitation before crawling back towards you, his lips inches away from yours. he positioned the head of his dick right on top of your entrance, but didn't push in, staying right where he was. “gonna let daddy tear your pussy up, huh?” you nodded, smiling right back at him with nothing but a playful glint in your eyes. “i'm gonna let daddy use my pussy and fill me up,” you both smiled before he pressed his lips to yours, engaging in another passionate kiss.

lip couldn't believe the filth that was coming out of your mouth. it had exposed him to a side of you he never knew existed. the same girl who used to sing liam to sleep, was now fueling his need to cum. his hair stuck to his forehead as he pumped his dick, watching the way your legs were spread, wet pussy shimmering with carl's dick placed on your clit. he couldn't wait to see and hear you get fucked.

“gonna ruin you,” carl groaned as he grabbed his shaft. it only took a second for him to bury himself into the depths of your pussy, all the way from his tip to his balls. you let out a cry of ecstasy, holding onto his shoulders for support. he was now seated on the floor, his back against the counter with you in his lap. “bounce on daddy's dick now, okay?”

you leaned back, moans passing your lips as you arched your back, now bouncing up and down on his cock. you shuddered as you did so, the angle setting off fireworks in your stomach. you sped up the pace, carl grunting as he tilted his hips upward, now meeting your bounces with thrusts. you locked your fingers in his hair, pulling him into your tits. he didn't hesitate to suck on them, marking the fat and biting your hardened nipples. you couldn't help but squeal at the overwhelming feeling of your pussy sucking him in.

“look at you, taking my dick so well,” he wasn't the only one looking at you. lip trembled as he continued to ferociously pump his cock, watching the way you kept bouncing. he watched the way your greedy cunt sucked up his brother's dick, the way your tits and ass bounced along with you, the wsy the counter shook from your brutal movements. he couldn't help himself—he would've given his liver to switch places with carl, for a chance to make you feel good. “you like the way daddy fucks you?”

you nodded feverishly, your bounces quickening in order to match his harsh thrusts. you spread your legs, giving your boyfriend and uninvited visitor a good look at the way your pussy took his dick—the way it disappeared inside you and came back for a split second, the way he was soaked in your juices. you began to whimper, a familiar sensation in your stomach forming. “i can't, i'm gonna cum,” you whined, holding onto carl's legs for support.

he had taken ahold of your hips, now thrusting inside you on his terms. he groaned loudly at the feeling of your pussy sucking him in, refusing to let go. “i'm gonna cum, too,” he announced, but he didn't stop. he didn't stop pounding into you, burying his thick cock until it was slamming into your cervix. he didn't stop until his brain went foggy and your cries were his only source of sense. “doing so good for me, baby, come on. cum on daddy's dick, baby. yeah,” he sputtered out words of encouragement until you were practically sobbing his name.

when you came, lip came, too. he stood in the doorway, his fist in the shape of a tight hole that was no match for you, draining the rest of the cum he had pent up inside him. he came with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, suppressing the sounds threatening to catch your attention. he milked his orgasm dry, getting every last drop that he had wasted on you. he came happily, knowing his last sight was a good one—with you drenching yourself in your own arousal.

#shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless angst #shameless smut #shameless x reader #carl gallagher x reader #carl gallagher smut #carl x reader #lip gallagher x you #carl gallagher x you #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher #carl gallagher

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yandere-daydreams · 5 months

Text

tw - period kinks, controlling behavior, LOTS of menstrual blood, and geto suguru (just, like, in general).

might just be my deranged little brain acting up, but i think geto would go absolutely feral when you're on your period.

his taste buds are bound to be a little fucked up after multiple decades of choking down curses, so when he gets a taste of your heady, sweet-tinged blood, he treats it like a fine wine. you'll spend all week on your back, your legs thrown over his shoulders and his face buried between your thighs as he happily eats you out for hour after hour, a mix of blood and slick and saliva dripping down his chin as he lethargically sucks and licks you far past the point of overstimulation. if he can convince you to sit on his face (at least until the first time you lose consciousness), even better. if it was up to him, the world you just be you, him, and your sweet pussy.

medication and heating pads are withheld because he's 'just so worried about the side-effects :('. if you want something for your cramps, you're going to have to either sit in his lap and warm his cock like a good little acolyte or, better yet, let him pump some ribbed, pulsing toy into your cunt and watch as orgasm after orgasm melt away any pain you might've felt. any time you complain that you have things to do that don't involve him playing with your pussy, he'll offer to knock you up and make it so that you don't have to worry about your period for a whole nine months :) you tend not to complain, after that.

it doesn't matter whether or not you're tracking your cycle, he's got it memorized. when he's at his worst (which is almost always), he might even conveniently ""forget"" to restock your supplies. he just thinks it's so cute when you get all embarrassed and teary-eyed, your voice shaking and your hands kneading at your stomach as you reluctantly ask him to run such a personal errand for you. he will, obviously, he'd do anything you asked him to, but he will absolutely might just drag his feet, use your discomfort as an excuse to haul you into a hot bath - but not before he takes it upon himself to clean you up with his tongue, to massage your aching chest with his big, calloused hands. if you're sore and hypersensitive, even better. he might take an extra few minutes just to watch you squirm.

tldr; geto suguru has a menstrual blood fetish and he's going to make it your problem. thank you for coming to my ted talk etc. etc.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #yandere geto suguru #yanderecore #yancore

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pandoraslxna · 8 months

Note

i love ur neteyam writing sm. could you maybe do something like hide and go seek but like predator and prey type of hunting and once neteyam finds them it leads to smut if that makes sense?!? if not its totally fine💗

Feral hearts

adult Neteyam x female human reader

Words: 2.5k

Summary: There is always a thrill to the chase.

Warnings: explicit smut, cnc (that means there are dub/con elements, but nothing too bad), predator/prey play, chasing kink, oral (f receiving), handcuffs, p in v, fingering, rough sex, clit slapping (just once), size difference, overstimulation, praise kink

Translation:

Mawey = calm

Muntxate = wife, female spouse

You’re running. As fast as you can. As fast as your legs allow. The only thing keeping you from stopping or slowing down, are the sounds of footsteps right behind you– chasing you.

As you sprint through the dense, humid forest, your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins. The tangled undergrowth and towering trees blur together as you push your body to its limits, driven by both fear and an instinct for self-preservation.

So this is how it’s going to end?

Your lungs are burning, pleading for oxygen but you could only take short ragged gasps of air. The whirring and humming of your exopack mask as it filtered the air for you was almost as loud as the sound of your heart thumping inside your chest, beating so hard it was daring to break your rips.

But there’s also the distant sound of snapping branches and heavy footfalls that grow louder behind you. Moonlight filters through the thick canopy of trees, casting fleeting patches of light on your face as you weave through the bioluminescence flora like a shadow.

Your muscles burn with exertion, but you don’t even dare to slow down. The forest seems to conspire against you, with gnarled roots and low-hanging branches threatening to trip you up at every turn. Yet, fueled by a primal survival instinct, you push forward. A snarl echos through the forest, spurring you to greater speed.

More adrenaline courses through your veins, sharpening your senses and heightening your awareness of the world around you, your mind hyper-focused on the path ahead.

Leaves rustle underneath your running feet, and the scent of damp earth fills your nostrils, mingling with the scent of your own fear. Your heart races as you navigate through the labyrinth of trees, branches whipping against your skin, and time seems to stretch and compress simultaneously, each second feeling both fleeting and eternal. Your thoughts become a single, desperate mantra: escape.

With every stride, you push yourself harder, willing your legs to carry you to safety. The forest seems to blur into an indistinguishable frenzy of greens and glowing dots of colors, as if the very fabric of the world is collapsing around you. Your breathing becomes more labored, your body screaming for respite, but you refuse to yield.

Finally, as your strength wanes, you burst through the edge of the forest, emerging into a clearing bathed in moonlight. You stumble to a halt, gasping for breath, scanning your surroundings. The forest stands still, as if holding its breath, and you realize you have outpaced your pursuer.

Relief washes over you, tinged with a lingering sense of unease, a constant reminder of the primal fear of what lurks in the depths of the unknown forest.

Just as the adrenaline starts to wear off, a pair of hands suddenly grab you and the next moment, you find yourself flat on the mossy ground. You gasp sharply, instinctively writhing against the hands that roughly pin your wrists to your lower back, tying them together tightly.

"Got you", a low voice speaks directly into your ear, chuckling darkly, and a wave of goosebumps washes all over you.

Your body feels frozen with fear and your pulse quickens as the Na‘vi behind you draws even closer. His hands are smooth as they run up the backside of your thighs, all the way up over the curve of your ass, until they reach the waistband of your pants. There’s barely any effort needed to tug them down to your ankles, pull your jeans off and with them your panties too. The low hum coming from behind you let’s you know that he appreciates the sight of your glistening wet folds.

The same hands that had been roaming your shivering body now manhandle you into position– kneeling, thighs spread and back arched, and with your wrists still bound behind your back, your cheek is uncomfortable shoved against the cold glass of your mask as you’re lying face first in the grass.

"Hmm, you look delicious enough to eat, little one", the Na‘vi chuckles, running a set of long fingers through your slick before he pushes them into you without warning. You suck in a sharp gasp, but it quickly turns into a whiny moan that tumbles from your parted lips, as he thrusts them in to the last knuckle, just to harshly pull them back out entirely.

You can’t really see him from your current position, but you feel him shift behind you, settling to his knees between your spread thighs. The next thing you feel is a warm breath on your skin, and then something even warmer, something wet, that licks a board stripe from your clit to your entrance.

"So sweet", he groans, and then it dips back into you, lapping up your juices and you gasp for air at the invasion of his big tongue.

"Oh– holy sh-it", you moan, thighs quivering but he holds them spread in a strong grip with his big, three-fingered hands, holding you more open than you were before, so that he could taste you again and again, his tongue dipping deeper and deeper inside every time.

You could feel the pleasure growing inside you, in your toes, in your spine and even behind your eyelids. You arched against him, moaning at each touch of his tongue, his lips against your clit– sucking and slurping and kissing. Your orgasm was building fast, so incredibly fast, and you’re already reaching for it, but then he suddenly pulls away, and your hips jerk violently as though to follow.

"F-Fuck", it comes out as a frustrated sob, and you squirm helplessly against the restraints around your wrists. "Please!"

"Needy little human", the na‘vi grunts, and then dives back down, his tongue delving deeper than before, sucking harshly on your clit until your back arches like a bow. He’s feasting like he’s never been taught proper table etiquette, his face practically shoved against your pussy as if he’s actually starving.

You’re drooling, hands twisting uncomfortably and nails digging into your palms as you come for the first time that night, listening to the obscene sounds of him slurping the sweet nectar between your thighs as you come undone on his tongue.

Only when your thighs begin to tremble, hips twitching and bucking away from his mouth on your oversensitive clit, he finally lets up on you.

You hear him huff out a breath behind your back, probably at the pathetic sight of your physical condition– panting, with little spasms of overstimulated nerves and slick arousal running down the inside of your thighs.

You can’t help the chill running up your spine when his hands slide up your sides and up between your shoulder blades, putting some pressure right there to arch your back more.

"Mawey", he says, his voice low and raspy, laced with hunger, and you swallow thickly as you feel him shift once again, untangling the woven loincloth around his hips to discard it to somewhere behind him. "Don’t resist", you hear the thick na’vi accent on his tongue whenever he speaks your language. "It will hurt when you fight it."

Your brows furrow for a moment, but then you feel him shuffle closer and something presses against your slippery opening. Inhaling sharply, you feel the mushroom-like head of his cock nudge itself past your entrance. It’s thick, bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and you can’t help but whimper at the stretch.

The Na‘vis hands are on your hips, holding you in place, but at the distressed little noises you make, one of them starts to rub up and down your spine, almost soothingly.

"It– its not going to fit", you whimper softly, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes another inch of himself inside you. "You’re too– big, fuck."

He waits for you to inhale, then another inch slides into you and your exhale comes out a little shakily.

"You can take it", he simply says, but you hear the restrain in his voice like he’s holding himself back from slamming into you without mercy. "Look how your tiny cunt is swallowing my cock. She’s so tight, but hungry for it." He chuckles lowly, then slowly slides more of his never ending length into your clenching hole.

By the time he’s halfway inside you, you already felt full to brim. The stretch his girth bought you was deliciously painful, making you feel every tingle of sensitive nerves inside your core. You also feel the slight curve of his cock, his tip nudging against your g-spot before he draws out an inch and then pushes back in.

You make a punched out little noise at the first lazy thrust, and he repeats the same motion again. The drag of his shaft against your gummy walls is slow and languidly, but soon he picks up his pace. With ever thrust, he pushes more of his cock into you, working you open, before your body can properly adjusts to his size.

"Good girl", he breaths against the skin of your neck, "Just relax, let me claim the price of my hunt." And then his tongue licks broad, wet stripe up the side of your throat. You shiver underneath him, more moans falling from you lips when his pelvis finally makes contact with swell of your ass and he’s flush against you, seated so deep in your cunt that you feel his tip press against the opening to your womb.

The next thrust he gives you is a little harder, and it knocks the breath straight out of your lungs. Then another, making you gasp. Everything after the third thrust is a blur.

His pace changes dramatically once he’s certain your body can take it without breaking. They soon turn relentless and rough, and you find yourself clenching your teeth hard as you take take take whatever he’s giving you.

It takes you by surprise that, while you’re moaning, panting and gasping, breath hitching, one of his arms sneaks around your middle and his hand dips between your thighs. He finds your clit expertly fast and you almost bite through your bottom lip, a sob bubbling up your throat as he starts to rub it.

"Oh my god", you whimper and then it feels as if your body is breaking into a thousand pieces as he flicks your clit between his rough fingertips. "Fuck, please. Oh pleasepleasepleaseplease—"

Your insides turn to liquid and your brain slowly begins to melts out of you in a slick gush between your thighs as you come for the second time. The Na’vi fucks you through it, hitting all the right spots on the way in. Your pussy clamps down hard around his cock, sucking him in and keeping him right there until you feel yourself floating back to earth.

"Eywa, fuck", he curses behind you, sounding a little breathless himself. He was completely absorbed by the feeling of you, hypnotized by the sight. Your cunt seemed to lovingly embrace his cock, to massage it and cling to it whenever he pulled out just a few inches. "You’re so tight, so good."

You were shuddering from each firm, deep stroke of his cock, inner walls clinging tightly to his shaft, squeezing him, flexing around his warm, intruding length, coaxing him deep inside with each thrust. Despite the whiny little noise you make, and the way your hips buck and twitch, trying to get away from his hand, he keeps his fingers on your clit. He’s not touching it directly, skillfully avoiding the oversensitive bundle of nerves, but it’s enough to get you close again.

"C-Can’t, I can’t", you sob, squirming more and more. "Can’t come any– fuck, I can’t come anymore. I- I just came!"

"Oh, I think you can, little one", he groans, the pads of his three fingers giving a teasing slap to your clit that makes you choke on a another moan. The sound of skin roughly smacking against skin as he continues to pound into you almost drowns out the sound of his voice. "Hmh, fuck. Just take it, take what I give you. Let me feel you."

Sobbing, you shudder and twist and beg, your words pleasure-blurred into one long moan of, "coming!" And then you’re gone, flung into your orgasm, crying out and shaking, shuddering and twitching like you’ve been struck by lightning.

At the same time you feel his hand finally leave your clit, he returns them in a bruising tight grip around your waist, pulling you back to meet his final thrusts. Your eyes flutter close at the sudden feeling of warmth flooding your insides and your toes curl into your soles as he slowly fills you to the brim with his seed.

"Good girl, fuck, take it all. Every last drop", he grits out between clenched teeth, sharp fangs sparkling in the moonlight.

You cringe a little as it begins to leak out of you, but he is quick to push it back inside with a couple of lazy strokes. That’s when your knees finally give in under you, collapsing flat to the soft mossy ground with shallow pants of air.

"And?", Neteyam asks after a while. Your wrists have long been freed from their restraints and now you’re laying on your back, chest still heaving as he rolls over and almost crushes you under his weight. He lays the upper half of his entirely too big frame onto your chest, misusing your breasts as comfortable pillows. "How did you like it, muntxate? Was it to your satisfaction?"

"God, yes", you exhale a long breath, panting but smiling happily and content as ever, "It was- it was great. I’m very, very satisfied!"

"I‘m glad. I enjoyed myself too", Neteyam chuckles softly, "I have to admit, more than I thought I would, when you first asked me to do this."

His confession makes you blush sheepishly.

"I did not expect humans to be into such things, but I could get used to these type of hunts. You’re certainly more fun to chase after than a yerik!" Neteyam laughs.

You can’t help but giggle with him, as his arms encircle your middle and pull you into a tight hug, snuggling his face in between the space of your breast and nosing your scent that he always claims is very sweet to him.

"Maybe next time you could hide somewhere and I could read your tracks to find you", he then says quietly, his voice muffled against your skin. You don’t miss the way his tail curls in anticipation and his ears twitch, waiting for your response. "I-If that’s something you’d like to try, too", he quickly adds, and it’s almost comically how fast his mannerism can change from being the chasing predator to the absolute sweetheart that your mate is.

"Sure", you say, and you find yourself smiling at his eagerness, "I’d love that."

#tw: aged up #neteyam x female reader #neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #atwow neteyam #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam #avatar neteyam #atwow #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

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lxndonorris · 1 month

Text

sleeping naked - Max Verstappen

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: Smutish, light touching as a professional naked sleeper, Max convinced you to try it out as well x word count: 1100+ taglist: @game-set-canet requested by anon :) if you have any request, let me feel free to talk to me. gif by me.

The quiet hum of the night envelopes the room as you and your boyfriend Max head to your bedroom to settle into bed after a long day together. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm ambiance, illuminating the contours of Max's handsome face as he stands beside you.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Max suggests something that catches you off guard.

"Hey, how about we try sleeping completely naked tonight?"

You blink in surprise, feeling a flush of warmth creeping up your cheeks.

The idea is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking—a bold departure from your usual routine. Well, for Max, it isn't that unusual; he does it every now and then. Still, there is something tempting about the prospect of shedding all inhibitions and embracing the intimacy of bare skin against bare skin.

"Are you sure?" You ask, your voice tings with uncertainty.

Max flashes you a reassuring smile; his confidence infectious. "Trust me, it will be liberating. Plus, it's something new and exciting to try together."

With a tentative nod, you agree, your heart racing with anticipation.

As you strip away the layers of clothing, you can't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you, exposed and raw in the dim light of your bedroom.

But as Max wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his naked form, all doubts melt away. There is a primal intimacy to that embrace, a connection forged through the simple act of being ourselves to each other.

As you gaze upon Max's naked form, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtain, you can't help but feel a surge of admiration. Taking a step back, you let your eyes wander all over him.

Normally, you are accustomed to seeing him dressed in plain shirts or the vibrant Red Bull racing gear, his athletic physique hinted at beneath the fabric. But now, with nothing but his bare skin on display, he exudes a newfound sense of confidence and freedom.

There is a raw allure to him—a magnetic pull that draws you in with an intensity you can't ignore. His muscles ripple beneath the moon-kissed skin, every contour and curve a testament to his strength and dedication. And yet, there is a vulnerability to him as well, a raw honesty that leaves you breathless.

Gone is the facade of the racing driver, replaced by the unfiltered essence of the man you love. In this moment, he is more than just Max; he is a revelation, a glimpse into the depths of his soul laid bare for you to behold.

As he catches your gaze, a knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"You're beautiful." His rough voice sounds a little deeper, huskier, carrying the love he feels for you.

Your entire body flushes with color, and your skin rapidly heats up. "Thank you." You breathe deeply.

With a newfound sense of courage, you reach out to trace the lines of his body with trembling fingers, marveling at the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

He is a masterpiece, a work of art sculpted by time and experience, and you feel privileged to witness him in all his naked glory.

Then, Max's eyes roam over your body again, tracing the curves with a reverence that takes your breath away.

His gaze is like a caress, tender and adoring, as if he is committing every inch of you to memory. There is no judgment in his eyes, only a deep appreciation for the woman standing before him.

"Absolutely stunning," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion.

His words send a thrill coursing through you, igniting a fire of desire that burns hot and fierce. You step closer to him again, closing the distance between you until your bodies are just inches apart.

Resting your hand on his chest, you feel the warmth of Max's skin beneath it. His skin is smooth beneath your touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat is a comforting melody against your palm.

With a contented sigh, Max let out a low growl of happiness, his eyes meeting yours with a playful sparkle. The sound sends a shiver of excitement down your back.

As you climb into bed, pulling the sheets up to cover your lower halves, you relish the sensation of your torsos being exposed to each other. There is an undeniable intimacy in the simplicity of your intertwined bodies.

Max leans in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, his touch tender and affectionate. "Thank you for trying this out with me," he murmurs, his voice filled with gratitude.

"It's actually pretty good." A coy smile plays on your lips. "I could get used to this." You smile, tracing lazy circles on his chest.

"Me too." His gaze softens, and he leans in again to press a tender kiss on your lips.

The sensation of Max's fingertips gliding over your skin sends shivers down your spine, each touch a delicate caress. You embrace the way he moves with such care and mindfulness, as if every stroke is a silent delcaration of his love.

Unable to resist, you reach out to cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the rugged outline of his jawline, reveling in the texture of his stubble against your skin. It sends a tingling sensation through you, but it is a sensation you welcome, a reminder of the raw masculinity that defines him.

Then, Max's fingers graze the skin of your shoulders, and he pauses, his touch lingering over a spot on your arm.

What's this?" He asks, his voice tinging with curiosity.

You glance down, following his gaze to the tattoo adorning your skin—a small emblem commemorating his third championship win. A surge of pride swells within you as you recall the exhilaration of that moment, the joy etched into Max's face as he stood victorious on the podium.

"It's for you," you explain, a shy smile playing on your lips. "To celebrate your incredible achievements." You got it just a few days ago, when he was racing in Saudi Arabia.

Max's eyes sparkle with delight, and he pulls you closer, pressing a fervent kiss to the tattoo.

"You're amazing, you know that?" He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You melt into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his affection. You cocoon yourselves beneath the sheets, your bodies entwined as you lay face-to-face, lost in the intimacy of the moment.

His lips find yours once more, a gentle caress that speaks volumes of his love.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smutish #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n

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andy-15-07 · 1 month

Note

If you’re inspired could you do a fic about Paul Atreides and Y/N’s first night as enemies to lovers? Like they hate each other but they’re in an arranged marriage? Maybe Y/N is scared of the pain she’ll experience during sex? Would love fluff at the end…

Thanks!

From Enemies to Lovers

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

In the grand halls of the Atreides palace on Arrakis, a tense atmosphere hung in the air as Paul Atreides, the young heir to House Atreides, stood before his bride-to-be, Y/N. The marriage between their families had been arranged as a political alliance, a union meant to strengthen their houses in the turbulent times ahead. But for Paul and Y/N, the prospect of marriage was fraught with tension and resentment.

As they stood face to face, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills, Paul could sense the fear and apprehension emanating from Y/N. He knew that she harbored doubts and insecurities about their impending union, just as he did. But duty and honor compelled them to carry on with the charade, to fulfill the obligations thrust upon them by their families.

"Y/N," Paul began, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation, "I understand that this marriage is not of our choosing. But we must make the best of it, for the sake of our houses."

Y/N's eyes flashed with defiance, her resolve unyielding. "I will do my duty, Paul, but do not expect me to pretend that I am happy about this arrangement."

And so, on their wedding night, as they found themselves alone in the opulent chambers of the Atreides palace, the tension between Paul and Y/N was palpable. Neither knew what to expect, their hearts heavy with the weight of obligation and uncertainty.

As they stood on opposite sides of the room, their silence filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, Y/N's fear threatened to overwhelm her. She had heard stories of the pain and discomfort that awaited her on her wedding night, and the thought sent shivers down her spine.

Sensing her apprehension, Paul approached her slowly, his movements cautious yet determined. "Y/N," he said softly, "I understand if you are afraid. But I promise to be gentle with you. We are in this together, whether we like it or not."

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes searching his for any sign of deceit or malice. But all she found was sincerity and understanding, a rare glimmer of compassion in the midst of their tumultuous circumstances.

With a shaky breath, Y/N nodded, her walls beginning to crumble under Paul's reassuring presence. "Thank you, Paul," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I will try to trust you."

And so, as they lay together on the bed, their bodies trembling with anticipation and uncertainty, Paul and Y/N embarked on a journey that would forever alter the course of their lives. With each tentative touch and whispered caress, the barriers between them began to fade, replaced by a newfound connection forged in the fires of adversity.

As their bodies moved together in a dance of longing and desire, Paul and Y/N found solace in each other's arms, their fears and doubts melting away in the heat of passion. In that moment, they were no longer enemies bound by duty, but two souls united by love—a love that had blossomed from the ashes of conflict and resentment.

And as the first light of dawn filtered through the window, bathing the room in a soft golden glow, Paul and Y/N lay entwined in each other's embrace, their hearts overflowing with a newfound sense of peace and belonging. For in each other, they had found not only love, but also the courage to defy the expectations of their world and forge their own destiny together.

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vagabond-umlaut · 3 months

Text

⁙ ensnared

No matter what the world says, no matter what the world believes in, Gojo is nothing but a puny fly to the wily spider that you are. Flying headfirst into the gossamer web your skilled fingers have spun, time after time after time— The silk threads, perfectly tailored. Just for him.

▸ Gojo x Wife!Reader; Tooth-Rotting Domestic Fluff; Very Very Suggestive Themes; Nudity; Mentions of Food & A Plant Dying; Gojo calls his wife 'cookie'; Everything is fair in love and war ;) [This Fic's Rated Mature -> MDNI!!! ^_^]

▸ This is for you, Dilay! *MWAH MWAH MWAH* @roseqzpd

For all that is said about him, Gojo is a man who succumbs to only two temptations.

One:

Sweet dishes, regular intake of which will put anyone into a hyperglycemic crisis. [Good thing, he isn't just 'anyone'.]

And the other one:

You. His wife. His sweet, sweet, sweetest wife, who's currently peering up at him from his lap, wrapped in nothing except a way too tiny bath towel— however– he instructs himself the nth time since you emerged from the bathroom– you are a temptation he refuses to cave in to... just for now.

Strangely cognizant of his mind [like you are, more often than not], Gojo watches you intently stare at his lips for a full two seconds. Then repeat the request you made less than thrice today, but your husband already feels his defenses crumbling.

"'Toruuu," you whine, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing closer, "Won't you help your wife choose a pretty outfit for today's get-together? I'm so confused... You want your wife to look the best among all the ladies there– tell me, don't you?"

"'Course, I do, cookie!" he exclaims, indignant as to how you could ever think anything otherwise— before a sudden ping! from his laptop sends him careening to the ground like a deflated balloon.

The poor man sighs. "But there's still so much work left to be done–"

"– which you can always complete once you've helped me, 'Toru," you cut him off with a pout, that slowly gathers a playful tinge as you ask, "Why are you behaving like this, though? Usually, you jump at the faintest chance to get out of paperwork. But now..."

Eyes growing comically wide, your voice sinks to a conspiratorial whisper. So worried, so cute. "Did anyone threaten to leak where your secret sweets stash is, 'Toru? If you– you know– submit these reports too late like always, eh?"

The only response your husband manages to eke out for your query is a very strained chuckle... 'cause, yeah, that's right.

Nanami promised to do exactly that– telling his very dear but having-black holes-for-stomachs students where his foreign sweets are stored– besides telling you how the white-haired man hogged ten chocolates one day despite his allowed daily two– and how your favourite star cactus didn't die from age but from him overwatering it, that week you were on a mission in France two months back– should he submit anything late ever again... But, no, wait.

You were on a foreign trip when he was given this ultimatum, and returned only last night. And Nanami promised to not tell you these yet– at least, not any time before that damned deadline's over. So, how...

"'Toruuu," Your petulant self, very adorably so, draws him away from his musings. And Gojo swears, if he wasn't losing before, he certainly is now. Your watery eyes, lower lip jutted out just the right amount and your nails leaving a delicious trail on his undercut— they've always been too strong for the world's strongest sorcerer.

Groaning, he leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. And darts his eyes to bore into yours lest they travel to your soft skin peek– NO, DON'T GO THERE. NOT NOW. PLEASE.

He huffs. "Okay, fine."

You open your mouth, probably to screech in delight, but your husband shushes you with a finger to your lips. He continues, shifting his tone to a graver timbre, "But only to help you choose your outfit– nothing else."

Lips curving into a wide smile behind his finger, your eyes gleam in terribly concealed delight. He has to actively stop himself from kissing you right then and there— there are still three mission reports left to be filed.

"And if I catch you trying to change the stream to anything else," he warns. You nestle closer into him, blinking your gorgeous eyes up at him in silent wait. A chuckle [which sounds more embarrasingly choked than anything] leaves him.

Features shifting into something brighter than a supernova, you push his finger away. And giggling, say, "You won't go easy on me— right, 'Toru?"

[In hindsight, though, Gojo thinks he should have recognised this plan to be yours.

From the way you step out the bathroom, not in your usual bathrobe but a towel... To the way you beg him to help decide your dress, in spite of knowing well how he leans towards only white or light blue choices... To the way your towel– pretty conveniently and accidentally, of course– slips lower not even ten minutes into the task...

To the soft 'Oops!' you exhale but make no move to cover your exposed chest, a mute thrill clear in the curve on your lips as you watch him watch, drink in, mentally devour the delectable sight before— your ever-present coyness nowhere to be found even as he strips you, nothing hiding you anymore from his starving gaze...

To the smug smile you're offering him now, the next day, after he's been thoroughly chewed out by Yaga for submitting his work a whopping four hours late...

Your wicked, brilliant, bewitching eyes go from him, to the mountain of empty candy wrappers on the centre table, to the empty pot of soil on the windowsill– the one that had your annoying, attention-hogging desert plant– then return to him.

A shudder runs down his spine— which doesn't take long to transform into a shiver of excitement. And a very, very warm burst of fondness right in the middle of his chest.

The man shakes his head with a laugh, 'cause—

For all that is said about him, Gojo is a man who succumbs to only two temptations.

And he'll be a fool, if he is to mess with the second– and more important of the two–

You.

His sweet, sweet, sweeter than the sweetest sweet dish, but startlingly sharp wife.]

[Also, no joke, but isn't your 'Toru insanely in love with you, even more for that?]

Gojo, some time later: My cookie is sooo smart– did ya know that, Nanamin? Hehe. Nanami: Why TF do you always hide in my office every time your wife is mad at you?

▸ Divider by @hitobaby. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

▸ masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

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doumadono · 3 months

Note

think if reader had muzan's child and they're breastfeeding their baby & he see the child getting milk, would he be like 'hey. gimme some of that.' i imagine reader would be flustered but down for it aha

SINFUL SUNDAY

Muzan found himself in an unexpected situation. Clad in his usual elegant attire, Muzan stood beside you, the mother of his child, as you cradled your newborn in your arms. The soft glow of the moonlight falling through a large window bathed the chamber.

Your infant, a delicate mix of human and demon heritage, nestled against your chest, eagerly latching onto your breast for sustenance.

Muzan observed with a calculating gaze, his crimson eyes narrowing as he fixated on the scene before him. "I want some of that too," Muzan's voice, smooth and tinged with arrogance, sliced through the silence. His eyes bore into yours, a twisted curiosity playing in their depths. There was a certain arrogance in his demeanor, as if he believed that even the act of breastfeeding held a power dynamic that he could exploit.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by his audacity. "You're a demon king, Muzan-sama. I hardly think breast milk is on the menu for someone of your stature."

Muzan's lips curled into a sly smile, revealing sharp fangs. "Stature has nothing to do with cravings, my dear mortal. A feeble concoction of life's essence, bestowed upon the weak and vulnerable is making me curious." The demon king circled around you, his gaze never leaving the child at your breast.

With a sense of reluctant compliance, you nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate dance required to navigate the temperamental whims of the father of your child. Gently cradling the infant in your arms, you approached a meticulously crafted wooden crib, adorned with the most opulent silk blanket money could buy. You carefully nestled the child within the confines of its plush sanctuary.

Upon your return to Muzan's presence, you once again nodded, a gesture that carried the weight of unspoken acquiescence. The Demon Lord, perched regally, regarded you with an air of entitlement as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him on an elegantly crafted couch. Complying, you lowered yourself gracefully onto the plush cushions, the atmosphere tinged with a subtle tension.

Without delay, Muzan's hands moved with a possessive confidence, cupping yours breast in a gesture that bespoke both control and desire. Muzan deftly slid the strap of your nightgown from your shoulder, revealing a portion of your chest. His gaze fixated on the rounded swell of your breast, brimming with nourishing milk. The baby's suckling had left the aureola of your breast darkened.

The demon bent down, taking the bud into his mouth. He began to suckle gently, ensuring the sharp edges of his fangs didn't cause any discomfort to you. As the milk flowed into his mouth, he hummed with satisfaction, savoring the runny sweetness that gradually evolved with each sip.

You found yourself in a bewildering situation, unsure of how to react as he drank your milk. Eventually, you tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder, seeking a semblance of stability.

He continued to suckle, delicately pressing against the breast with his chilly hand. His long, pointed nails lightly brushed against the tender flesh, making you yelp a little.

"Shhh," he whispered, taking the bud out of his mouth to look directly at you. "We don't want the baby to wake up."

Muzan swiftly removed your remaining sleeve of the nightgown, revealing your chest completely to his hungry, crimson eyes. He then shifted his focus to the other breast, wrapping his lips around the hardened nipple. He took his time, gently sucking while flicking his tongue against the hardened bud. The milk spilled into his mouth again, prompting a satisfied hum. The entire experience, he realized, had an unintended consequence — his pants felt uncomfortably tight in the crotch.

The experience had a profound effect on you as well. You moaned quietly in relief as he eased the tension in your breasts by gently drinking the accumulated milk. "Oh, my lord," you whispered, gently caressing his shoulder.

Muzan took your hand and directed it toward his groin, where a noticeable bulge had formed.

Without a second thought, you sensed the texture of his hardened penis through the fabric of his pants and began to delicately massage it whilst his tongue massaged the erected nipple.

As things intensified, Muzan pulled away, fixing a stern gaze on your flushed face. "Take off your clothes," he commanded, his tone firm and demanding. "I want to take you, right here and now. And who knows, perhaps you'll birth me another heir soon."

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #anime smut #muzan kibutsuji #muzan smut #muzan x you #muzan x reader #kny muzan #muzan x y/n #kny smut #muzan x reader smut #muzan kny #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #lord muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #kibutsuji muzan #kibutsuji kny #divider by cafekitsune

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neptuneiris · 3 months

Text

Wild Hearts | Part Two

(the end)

pairing: prince!aemond × lowborn!reader

summary: you and he can't be together, yet the two of you have fallen for each other. but the Gods are not merciful and you both have to let go. but by comparison, your charming prince doesn't think the same way you do.

word count: 10.6k

previous part • main masterlist

hello guys, here I bring the end of this story🥺

I honestly didn't think you would like the first part so much, I received so much love and support that you truly don't know how much I appreciate it❤

you made me very happy and i hope you like this second part and final as much as the first one. i have put all my effort here so i really hope to receive your opinions, i will be waiting for them🙏🏻

and now finally read and enjoy!

Memories of the night before flood your mind, awakening sensations and emotions that spread throughout your entire being.

A shy smile appears from your lips under your sheets, blood tingeing your cheeks, unable to believe that it really happened, while a warm sensation envelops you from the inside out, with the moment more vivid and fresh than ever in your mind.

And you regret absolutely nothing.

There's not even a flicker of doubt. Even if Aemond hadn't told you that he would ask your father for your hand this very morning, you wouldn't change anything that happened.

And mostly because there is no other man you would have trusted with this, something so intimate, only him.

After you stayed a few moments longer in his chamber, when the hour grew too late, he himself led you through secret passages you were completely unaware of.

Together you slipped inside the walls of the hallways and rooms of the Red Keep, leading you to your room unnoticed.

In those dark corridors, there was more kissing and caressing, acting like complete lovers having a forbidden love and you loved every moment.

You keep every instant in your memory and in the deepest corner of your heart, as a precious and unforgettable treasure and you only hope that soon he and you can create more moments like those.

But you can no longer remember those moments as your thoughts are interrupted by your maids entering your chamber to start preparing you for the day.

So you have no choice but to get out of bed.

While you take a bath, get dressed and have your hair done, in all that time uncertainty takes hold of you, wondering at every moment how Aemond's audience with your father must go, feeling the nerves of excitement and uneasiness invade you as the waiting becomes almost unbearable.

He told you he would talk to your father this morning so surely that must be taking place right now.

And you feel that at any moment your father and mother will walk through your doors very happy and pleased by the news. And although the fact that you have given yourself to Aemond without being married or even betrothed will not be a pleasing fact nor will it be well received, still an early union will settle everything.

However, your morning passes normally and nothing out of the ordinary happens, with silence maintaining itself.

You even considered that you would not have to attend the daily activities with the ladies of the Court as you would be celebrating with your parents.

But as the minutes tick by and no one walks through your doors, you reluctantly decide to attend your engagements, having no idea what must be going on.

Despite your efforts to concentrate on activities and be present with the ladies, you are distracted by involuntary memories of Aemond and all of last night, lost in your own thoughts.

The laughter and conversations around you become a distant murmur and you are barely aware of what they are talking about.

Each passing moment seems like an eternity until, finally, one of the guards walks towards the entire group of women in which you find yourself, this only getting your attention.

"Sorry to interrupt, ladies," the man says in a respectful tone and gesture.

"It's all right, Sr," Lady Lannister tells him.

"Lady Y/N," he turns to you and your heart stops, "Your father has requested your presence in his marital chamber along with your mother, my Lady."

Your heart begins to pound with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, keeping yourself from smiling big, holding back all your emotions as you rise from your seat.

"Excuse me, ladies," you quickly excuse yourself to them.

And with a smile and a twinkle of happiness in your eyes, you make your way towards your father and mother's room with the growing certainty that this has to do with Aemond's hearing, definitely.

So as you move through the hallways of the castle, a sense of joy and nervousness comes over you. The idea that you and Aemond will soon be married fills your thoughts.

It is also clear that your father approved of the union and your mother must be more than happy.

And as you reach the door to the chamber, you inhale deeply before entering, unable to help but smile at the thought of all that lies ahead for you and Aemond, definitely a bright future.

However, as you walk through the doors and your parents' attention is immediately focused on you, your smile is wiped from your lips the moment your mother's palm slams hard against your cheek, the pain instantly washing over you and the surprise at not expecting or even anticipating this.

The surprise and the stunned shock of the blow leave you paralyzed for a moment, unable to react, barely processing what has happened, while the pain invades you.

You bring your hands to the bruised side of your cheek, confused, shocked and in pain watching your mother back with your eyes wide open and your lips parted, beginning to breathe heavily.

"How could you?"

Your mother says to you, her voice full of reproach, disbelief and pain, watching you in horror as the room begins to fill with palpable tension.

Confusion lingers in your eyes as you try to process your mother's shock, her attitude and what she is saying to you.

"How could you be so foolish as to give yourself away like a common whore to Prince Aemond?"

She angrily inquires you, on the verge of tears, as you feel your breath catch and shock wash over you further.

"You did not think of us, not even of yourself nor did you think of your suitors and the consequences that no one will want to take you as a wife when they find out about this, you fool!"

Your mother's fury is unleashed, her dagger-like words stabbing into your chest, adding to the pain you already feel right there and also to the pain of the blow to your cheek that spreads across the entire right side of your face.

Your confusion also intensifies further at her words. And just as you try to articulate a response, feeling your throat dry and tight, your father intervenes.

"Calm down, my dear," he says to your mother, wanting to reassure her.

But despite this, the tension in the room persists, palpable like a storm threatening to erupt at any moment. And your mother's gaze, still charged with fury, turns from you to him.

"I can't stay calm after what happened! How can you be so calm?" she exclaims, with a mixture of disbelief and anger.

Your father, trying to remain calm, approaches your mother and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I understand your anger but this is not the time for this. It's all over now and we need to approach this calmly and cautiously. We also don't need to make any more scandal than will already be made," he tells her in a calm voice, though the tension lingers in his eyes.

Your mother's gaze returns to you, her eyes still reflecting the mixture of anger and concern.

"You are lucky to have such an understanding father! You don't know how ashamed I am of you Y/N, I do not know you at all. All your Septas told you, I told you, all through your education you were warned what happened to girls who allow themselves to be ruined before they are married! How is it that you could forget it so easily!?"

"That's enough."

Your father says to your mother, who lets out an incredulous snort, on the verge of hysteria, unable to believe what is happening, while you feel your heart rate increase.

And then your father also addresses you, taking the word, leaving you completely breathless.

"Were you truly naive enough to think this would be settled with the Queen and the Hand approving a marriage between you and Prince Aemond?" he questions you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of reproach and disapproval.

Realization begins to work its way through your mind, watching them back in shock and horror, your heart beating too fast and hard.

They refused.

Aemond's plan didn't work.

You and he would not marry.

"You don't know the trouble and shame you put us through, Y/N. Also yourself after the prince announced that he had taken your maidenhead, believing that so the Queen would have no choice but to marry the two of you," he tells you seriously.

The feeling of shame mixes with the pain in your chest, with surprise still in your eyes, you feel the confusion, worry, disappointment and fear all over your body.

And now it is also the sadness that settles deep inside you, wanting to wish that none of this that is happening is real.

You babble, trying to find the right words to explain yourself in the midst of all this and everything you are feeling with that lump in your throat and in your stomach, having the impression that at any moment you are going to throw up.

"B-but he told me... the prince assured me that he would ask for my hand-

"Yes Y/N, the prince did but the Queen and the Hand did not approve of the union."

Your father repeats to you seriously, causing more pain inside you at the news.

"Otto Hightower was furious, he and the Queen could not believe what the prince was saying."

Confusion, despair and pain mingle with the tears that begin to stream down your cheeks, crying silently, pressing your lips together to prevent any sobs from escaping, as you feel a sharp pain in your chest that burns and hurts you inside.

It all falls on you like a painful weight on your heart, barely managing to process the magnitude of the situation.

And your father, seeing your state, with your pain and anguish, even though this was not something he expected from you and he is extremely upset and disappointed like your mother, sighs and approaches you.

"The Queen apologized to us for her son's indiscretion. And to make up for this mistake and the bad time we had to go through, she has promised us to secure a good marriage for you with Lord Ronan or Lord Alan after all," your father reveals to you as well.

The news penetrates your heart, adding additional weight to your already overwhelming emotions.

Tears continue to wet your cheeks, for although you feel a momentary relief at hearing your father's words, it is overshadowed by the heaviness of the pain that still lingers within you.

Knowing this still hurts you, completely. The news of your future marriage seeming more like a burden than a hope.

For it is not Aemond you will marry, when it was meant to be.

"The prince instantly questioned this, he disagreed and tried to convince his mother. However, his grandsire intervened and told him that he too will soon marry Lady Baratheon. Because of his mistake, his wedding will take place in the next few days to dispel the rumors and try to make amends with his betrothed and Lord Borros by the time they find out," he explains, "Still, the boy did not agree, he was furious. They both started yelling, but his grandfather confronted him skillfully and got him to say no more and finally accept it."

And then your heart ends up breaking into a thousand pieces.

The weight of reality looms over you and your broken heart in an overwhelming way, with the weight of disappointment and sadness is unbearable. And in the midst of all that whirlwind of pain, understanding slowly seeps into your consciousness.

Aemond, the prince you naively sacrificed so much on, didn't fight hard enough for you.

Bitterness intertwines with your sadness at the realization. For he was only content to accept the circumstances, throwing you away to marry another man.

He could have refused, he could have even asked for support from his father, the King, who has the final say in everything. And while you understand that his life decisions are not entirely his, at least he could have done a little more.

While you would have risked everything for him, he did nothing. And with that, your mother's words settle inside your mind, accepting and acknowledging them: foolish, naive and a whore.

He said he loved you, but perhaps last night left him completely satisfied enough and that's why he decided to accept your fate and his without fight it.

A bitter resignation settles into your being, as your tears continue their silent march down your cheeks, wondering if this was his plan all along, to simply give you up after anticipating that his mother and grandfather would never have approved of the union.

For he loses nothing and in fact he did not, for he will marry Floris and when all this is known by the Court, he will not be affected by the rumors, for he is a man.

But you... you lose everything, your dignity and reputation, for being the woman.

And although your father understands the sadness that overwhelms you, he prepares to reveal more news.

"The decision about your future husband was also made at that very moment and it was Lord Ronan who accepted our and the Queen's proposal, along with the approval of his father, Lord Redwyne, in spite of everything," he announces in his slightly soft but serious tone.

And his words echo throughout the room like a final verdict.

But his words especially echo in your ears like a distant echo, as you struggle to process this news, trying to keep your posture, but you cannot.

And resignation mixes with sadness inside you.

You can only let more tears fall, unable to formulate any words, besides you have no right to fight against this.

How could you after, thank the Gods, you will still be able to get married when normally the already ruined girls don't make it?

They are doing you a favor. But still your heart continues to ache. How will it be possible to find happiness in this marriage, when your heart still yearns for someone who is no longer willing to fight for you and practically turned his back on you?

And the news doesn't end there, as your father continues to speak.

"Tomorrow at dawn, you are leaving with Lord Ronan and his family to the south, where their settlements are located, The Arbor."

He announces and your heart stop again, watching him in surprise through your tears and all your suffering face.

"There is where the wedding will take place and we will eventually travel there within the next few weeks to be present, until we manage to calm things down here and our reputation is not so affected," he lets you know.

"Father-

You try to speak with your voice completely broken, but barely the word manages to escape your lips when he won't allow you to speak.

"And there is no argument back against this," he sentences.

With your voice muffled, you don't try to say anything more, as you can't and have no right.

And in the middle of the room filled with regret, you cling to the last spark of resistance within you. Tears are still flowing from your eyes and your sadness has given way to a kind of cold resignation.

The thought of leaving for distant lands, far from what you know, adds yet another layer of complexity to the storm that is passing, as the world you know seems to be crumbling around you.

But everything is already decided.

And knowing that very soon the entire Court will learn of these unfortunate events in the name of your family, your parents lock you in your chamber, with guards guarding your doors, where your father gives the order that no one may enter or leave.

And once within the walls of your room, all alone, with your pain and humiliation, you allow yourself to cry freely and let out all your emotions, with each sob sending a pang of pain to your chest to such an extent that you don't even have tears to cry anymore.

So you can only stare at one spot in your room with your gaze lost, tears drying on both of your cheeks and your whole body aching internally.

When your gaze lands on your secret door, between hope, sadness and despair, you honestly hope he will come.

You long for him to come and explain what happened, to let you know that he has not left you alone nor did he give you up as easily as you were told. You simply wish that, that he would come and comfort you, explain, not let you go.

Yet the silence persists and your hope fades until there is no more daylight coming through your windows.

He chooses to avoid your face and a confrontation, leaving you all alone in the coldness of your room, doing nothing for you.

And you allow, completely broken and hopeless, your room to feel like a crippling prison and darkness to envelop you all around, not having the strength and courage for anything, letting the feeling of betrayal take over and accepting the cruel reality.

He has definitely betrayed you.

And at dawn, you watch as your maids pack up all your possessions, while you watch without saying or doing anything, while your father tries to get you to react, telling you that this is the best thing for everyone, but you say nothing back.

Your mother makes no attempt to talk to you, yet her presence is present, but this does not matter too much to you, as you are silently learning to face the consequences of your own actions and your naive decisions.

You don't even say goodbye to your parents. Or at least it is not an emotional farewell, as you feel nothing.

And finally you emerge from the shadows of Red Keep, walking down the halls with a cold and disinterested attitude, with an expression that shows no emotion. You simply allow yourself to feel nothing more, already too hurt and humiliated to suffer any more.

In the hallways you do not cross paths with a person especially characterized by silver hair, nor with anyone else of the royal family, not even with members of the Court, simply because your father chose the right time in the morning so that you would not cross paths with anyone.

And as you reach the gates and the carriage that will take you away, you look for the last time at the high walls of the place that was once your home, with the feeling that not only are you leaving behind many people and memories, but you are also leaving behind the pieces of your broken heart.

And without looking back any further, you climb into the carriage, leaving King's Landing and everything you know behind.

And at no time did anyone try to stop you. Much less look for you.

After arriving at the Arbor Island, your past life is put on pause for the entire journey.

It was weeks of getting to know other places, especially the lands of The Reach, which are known for being supplied with water and many green areas, which was the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life, those roads full of green grass, tall trees and beautiful flowers of different kinds.

You witnessed all this at Rosewood and Bitterbrige, but all this was seen most especially at Highgarden, where the whole cavalry made a stop for the supply of more provisions and a short rest, where you could meet the much acclaimed Tyrell settlement.

And eventually the final stop was made at the Three Towers, where a Redwyne ship took you to the island.

And now about a moon has passed since you settled here.

Everything is absolutely green, the castle is huge with trees and rivers all around, the ocean is not far away and Lord Alan, your betrothed, does his best to make you feel at home, showing you the beauty of the landscapes and the kindness of the residents who are at his family's disposal.

He also shows you the process of making the acclaimed wines and even the military force, as the Redwyne fleet is the most powerful after the king's.

And neither of you, much less him, mentions what happened at King's Landing.

However, coming to a new place, being your new home, settling into your new chamber, being among new walls and a new exterior different from the one that surrounded you before, it brings the pain of the past. And although the place here and all that it holds is beautiful, it does not please you.

You can't fully appreciate the efforts of your future husband or even the efforts of his mother, a kind woman who is happy with your presence and gives you everything you need to make you feel comfortable.

But you are simply not happy.

Your stay here is extremely difficult for you. Sadness invades you without being able to control it and every day is a struggle to be grateful for this, to make yourself understand that you have to forget and accept. That you will never see him again.

And with time, you get used to this change. You learn to recognize the differences between your old home and the new one, even though you still can't stop comparing.

You also don't hear any news about King's Landing since you arrived, particularly from him, you don't ask because you have no interest. This more than anything else has become a haven of indifference, a barrier that you yourself have built to protect yourself.

And all it requires of your time is to familiarize yourself with the place, to spend some time with Lord Ronan and his mother, as well as to listen to the preparations for your upcoming wedding.

The whispers of the people of the Arbor, the murmurs about the union that is coming and will take place soon, where everyone will be celebrating, before all this would have filled your heart with joy and anticipation.

But now, they are just silent reminders of a past that was supposed to belong to someone else.

And the one who is most pleased and visibly excited about the wedding is your mother-to-be by law, Lady Bethany, with whom it becomes a ritual every evening to come and have tea with her.

The aroma of tea fills the terrace as you and Lady Bethany share a quiet moment. Lord Redwyne is currently in the island's harbor overseeing his fleet while Ronan is at his daily training.

The view of the green and beautiful gardens with the ocean in the background creates a serene and peaceful atmosphere, with the sound of birds and other insects enveloping you both.

Lady Bethany, elegantly dressed in a dress of warm tones, wears an elegant pearl necklace that sparkles with every movement. Her gaze, piercing and shrewd, contrasts with the serenity and gentleness in her manner, especially when it comes to you.

"I'm sure the wedding preparations have you exhausted to this point, my dear," she tells you as she holds her dainty teacup gracefully.

"No, no, not at all, my Lady," you lie, trying to make your words convincing, just like your face.

"Well, with the wedding approaching so quickly, I'd like to talk to you about a few final details."

You nod politely, holding your own cup of tea with forced elegance.

"I'm sure you'll love our Septon, it sits among many of our beautiful gardens. It's not very large but it has everything in need," she speaks with an enthusiastic tone, "I was also thinking that the feast could be held right here," she points to the beautiful garden in front of you, "It will be lovely and we have everything we need to be able to fit it in."

She continues talking, but despite the exquisite details Lady Bethany describes to you, your mind is far from the wedding preparations.

You hear what she says, but you don't pay attention to it, hearing it as a distant voice to you, echoing in your ears. You know what you are doing is wrong, rude and inappropriate, but you cannot.

You can't rejoice and enjoy this.

When suddenly, a guard approaches, interrupting the conversation with a respectful bow.

"My Lady's," he bows his head, "I apologize for the interruption."

"No problem, Sr. Stefan," Lady Bethany tells him kindly and cordially, "What has happened?"

"The seamstress has arrived, my Lady," he informs her, "She said she had an engagement with you."

"Oh!" she exclaims with a surprised face, "I quite forgot," he says as he begins to set his tea cup back on the table, rising to his feet, "My dear, I am afraid I must retire for a moment."

"It's all right, my Lady, don't worry," you assure her with a soft smile and she nods in your direction, smiling back at you.

"Very well. I'll see you at dinner time then."

You nod, keeping a soft expression as she walks away down the halls gracefully with the guard behind her.

And now being in your own company, you decide to go for a stroll through the outer corridors that offer the most breathtaking views of the gardens and the ocean stretching into the distance.

Lost in your own thoughts, you walk with your gaze lost in the horizon, when suddenly a firm hand with a certain brutality grabs you by your waist, dragging you into a lonely corner to leave you with no escape.

A stifled scream escapes your lips, as another hand is quickly placed over your mouth.

Your whole world stops for an instant, terror in your entire being, as you scream against that hand and desperately search the hallway for one of the guards, but there is not a single one in sight.

So you struggle to free yourself, screaming and shaking your whole body, but this person's hands block your every move with ease.

"Shh..." a familiar voice whispers close to your ear, where again everything inside you freezes and you open your eyes wide, "Easy, love."

A shiver runs through your entire body, your breath catches and disbelief takes over.

No.

This can't be.

This is impossible.

Your heart begins to pound harder, as you breathe hard through your mouth, your mind refusing to accept what is happening.

Yet you feel the familiarity of those hands, the warmth of his body against yours, feeling his breath on top of your neck and that voice... you know.

You know deep down inside that it really is him.

And the fact is further confirmed the moment he brings his lips to your ear to speak softly to you.

"I'm going to remove my hand now but first I want you to promise that you won't shout or make any fuss, understood? Let's not complicate things, love."

The words barely reach your ears as you process the strange reality of the situation, feeling like your heart will burst out of your chest at any moment as tears begin to form in your eyes.

"Now nod if you have understood," he tells you with a tone of authority.

And in the midst of confusion, surprise, disbelief and everything else you're feeling, your head nods involuntarily, unsure.

"Good girl," he coos in your ear.

You feel the tension in your shoulders and can feel the vibration of his words through your body as he slowly removes his hand from your mouth, letting the air fill your lungs again.

And finally, he gently turns you so that you are both facing each other, his gaze eventually meeting yours.

He's wearing a hood with a cloak that wraps around his face, figure, and also perfectly hides his characteristic silver hair. And somehow, the dark of his clothes slightly camouflages the patch covering his left eye.

The shadow of the hood slips subtly over his facial features, adding a mystery to his presence. And to the side of his hip, his long sword hides between his cloak and body, revealing a bit of his hilt.

You can feel the whirlwind of emotions inside you, from surprise to sadness to anger, as his gaze intensifies, staring at you, his expression hard to decipher.

He is truly here, standing in front of you.

And the air seems to stop for a moment, as if the whole world is suspended by this unexpected encounter. The physical proximity between the two of you is obvious and not because you want it that way, but because the surprise leaves you paralyzed and you can't believe it.

Until finally he speaks.

"There you are," he murmurs with a barely visible smile on his lips, "It took me a while to get here."

It took him a while to get here?

You repeat in your mind, flooded with conflicting emotions, surprise, sadness and anger. How can he be here, after everything that happened? And why just now?

"What are you doing here?" you ask almost in a whisper, your voice completely broken, feeling tears stream down your cheeks, a reaction that takes him by surprise.

"I came for you, of course," he says, placing one of his hands on your waist again and the other on your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb, watching you confused and attentive, "Why are you crying?"

I came for you.

The thought leaves you speechless, with his presence and closeness seeming almost intoxicating to you, not bearing it, trying to process the reality of his presence.

And the tears in your eyes reflect the mixture of pain and sadness you feel at that moment.

And finally, not knowing where exactly you take the strength from, as you feel completely weak, you let go of his grip and take a step back with your gaze lowered, an action that Aemond doesn't expect and completely confuses him.

And he receiving no response from you, he acts, ignoring that gesture of yours for the moment, aware that he can't waste any time.

"We should leave before anyone sees us," he mutters, averting his gaze to the hallways to make sure no guards are approaching, attentive and fully alert, "Now."

You, however, stand still, unmoving at his proposal, his words floating in the air and echoing in your ears, creating a palpable tension around you.

"Come."

He says to you, taking your arm, trying to pull you forward along with him. But, again, you don't move and this gets his attention, beginning to get desperate.

"Y/N," he calls to you in a demanding, serious tone.

"No," you finally say, trying to hear yourself firm, breathing hard, "I-I can't," you falter, once again releasing yourself from his grip, not even looking him in the eye, nervousness, confusion and fear taking hold of you, "Leave me alone."

You try to pull away from him, but he stops you, surprised by your words, his gaze reflecting the mixture of disbelief and concern.

"Please, Y/N, there's no time for explanations now," he insists, "We need to leave," he begs, pulling your body closer to his, anxiety rising in you as he looks at you intently, "I promise I'll explain everything and tell you everything, everything you want to know when we leave here."

"I can't leave. I have commitments here," you sentence in the midst of all your pain, trying to look strong.

And once again you loosen your grip on him and try to pull away from him, which ends up wearing his patience thin.

"Oh yes?"

You hear the mockery in his tone behind you and once again, he stops you and grabs you by the waist, gluing your body to his.

"And you think I care about that?" he murmurs dangerously close to your face, watching you defiantly, stealing your breath, "I've already come this far and you're wrong if you think I'll leave empty handed."

Despite the closeness and the threat in his words, you maintain your stance and the next words escape your lips with a firmness that surprises even yourself.

"This is a mistake, Aemond. You shouldn't even be here. You can't take me away."

Aemond watches you in frustration, letting out a sigh, but also having a determination on his face.

"Y/N, you don't understand-

"No, I do understand," you interrupt him with a lump in your throat, "I understood perfectly when you left me alone and did nothing when they decided to send me away after you fuck me."

If there is pain in your words and the cruel reality of them, you don't show it and again free yourself from his grip, which in all your attempts are successful, but he immediately grabs you again with renewed firmness, seeking to make you understand, as if he can fix everything with his presence.

"I told you I'll explain everything when-

"And that makes ten."

He is interrupted now by a third voice also familiar between the two of you, that person appearing doubling down the hallway you are in, just ahead of you.

And before you or Aemond can worry and even act, good and bad, this does not happen, as for like him, Aegon Targaryen has a hood and cloak on, hiding his hair and identity.

And without showing the slightest concern, he drags an unconscious guard away with all his might.

"Hey guys," he says with all the normality in the world when he notices you both, dropping the man's legs with a subtle thump, "I hope he wakes up soon," he comments with a spark of mockery in his tone, observing you and then his brother with a grin, "Good, you finally found her. Now can we go? This playing princes to the rescue is exhausting. I'm not drunk enough for this, I need to drink."

Aemond lets out a sigh and looks at him reproachfully, not letting you go.

"I told you to be discreet when you have to do that."

"That's what I'm doing," he defends himself, "But this man is heavier than the others and I had to drag him," he says and then kicks him gently in the side of his stomach.

Aemond rolls his eye.

"And in fact, I think the other guards already noticed. So we'd better go now," he adds, more serious.

He then picks up a sack hanging over his shoulder, tossing it to Aemond, who nimbly catches it in mid-air and opens it, pulling out another hood just like the one the two of them have and holds it out to you with an expectant, menacing look.

"Now... do I take you with me the good or the bad way?"

Aemond holds the hood in his hand, waiting for your answer and what you are going to do, but you in the midst of confusion and pain, also seeming too much like even Aegon is here, helping him, still try to reason with him.

"Aemond, this is wrong," you plead, "Our families will be furious and this will become a huge problem if you take me with you."

He looks at you, his expression showing no remorse, brushing past your words, not caring.

"Very soon, the guards and surely your dear Ronan will surround us," he begins to tell you in a low tone and in warning, "And you don't want me to hurt him again, do you?" he inquires you coldly, "This time I will not be merciful but if you come with me for good, I will allow him to live."

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water, looking at him completely shocked and horrified, unable to believe it, with the reality of danger taking hold of you.

"I've already made a huge problem out of this by simply coming here, Y/N. Of course my family has figured out because Vhagar and Sunfyre left DragonPit. And believe me I'm not going to mind getting my hands more dirty."

The mention of Ronan is like a dagger stabbing into your chest, reminding you of the implications and the risk Aemond is willing to take.

And it's not fair.

Ronan doesn't deserve it.

He's been nothing but kind and supportive to you, always every moment you were in his company being supportive and wanting to make you feel comfortable, visibly excited and happy every time he showed you his home and what he's so characteristic of.

And while there is also the fear of the consequences of these actions, you feel more of an urgency to protect Ronan, because you will never forgive yourself if something bad happens to him because of you, much less him dying.

"You decide," Aemond says to you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Brother, we have to go now," Aegon announces worriedly, peering intently down one of the corridors, alert.

And there you know.

You press your lips together, don't let any more tears fall and resigned, with your jaw clenched, you practically snatch the black cloaked hood out of his hand and take a couple of steps forward, not wanting to watch him, instantly putting it around your dress and also over your head, hiding your hair.

The tension between him and you is evident and once you finish, he again grabs your arm.

"Let's go," he says to both of you.

Aegon leads the way, and the three of you without wasting any more time enter the huge gardens, instantly with bushes and trees covering you. And as the three of you make your way through the leaves, you hear the sound of them and the rustle of branches with every movement.

And though Aemond guides you, your thoughts are filled with more and more worries and unanswered questions as you go along, anticipating the enormous trouble and scandal this escape is going to bring when your family and Aemond's family finds out.

And behind you, you hear the sound of guards and commotion beginning to be made in the castle, reporting the intruders.

"Now, now, now," Aegon hurries.

Aemond makes you run faster and soon the three of you reach the edge of the island, making your way through the white sand, where you make out a small boat waiting on the seashore, hidden among logs and large palm fronds.

The two brothers quickly push it into the water without much effort, where Aemond hurries you up, instantly wetting the edges of your dress, though it is of no matter.

And once the three of you are up, the two of them take the oars and start pushing the waters.

"This shit is the only thing I didn't like about all this," Aegon says grumpily, making force.

You suppose that having flown the dragons to the island would have been dangerous and the guards would have given the warning before the two of them could have even entered the castle.

So you look back to see if anyone is following them and fortunately they are not, relieving and saddening you at the same time.

The distance from the island to The Reach lands is fortunately short, so you soon approach the shore, to a smaller, unguarded harbor where there are two men watching them as you approach, this alerting you but not alerting the two Targaryen brothers at all.

And once you reach the shore, Aegon is the one who helps you out of the small boat, and then thanks the two men, who take the boat and you see how they have more boats set up in this harbor with oars and fishing nets, so you assume they are fishermen.

And then it is Aemond who approaches them.

"Thank you very much," he tells them and then holds out a small sack to each of them, clearly filled with coins.

"It has been a pleasure, my prince," one of them replies.

And he turns his attention back to you.

"Come," he says, taking your arm again, making you walk.

You don't really know where you are, but you can guess what the city of the Three Towers is, only that the three of you are in a less frequented part of the city.

And with Aegon again leading the way, soon enough you see the dragons hiding behind a small dune, near the harbor, where the great immensity of Vhagar surprises you and makes Sunfyre look extremely small beside him.

You never had the privilege of flying in Vhagar before but today looks like it will be the day.

Aegon turns to Sunfyre and as you and Aemond approach the great dragoness, Aemond says some words to her in High Valyrian that you don't understand, but the imposing figure of her makes you feel intimidated and clearly frightened, especially the moment her huge eyes inspect you after Aemond says those words to her.

"Easy, she's not going to hurt you," Aemond tells you, taking your hand.

Vhagar lets out a short roar in the direction of both of you and that makes you startle.

"Don't be afraid. It's all right," he assures you, leading you with him towards the nets to climb up and mount it.

And you have no choice but to comply.

Aemond and Aegon avoid flying over the lands where the news will come faster where two dragons were seen together in the skies.

Instead, they choose to fly over a part of Dorne and reach the lands of Storm's End, where they are characterized by bad weather, icy winds, heavy rains and thunderstorms, so both brothers decide to stop at Mistwood so that, more than anything else, the dragons can rest.

Throughout the flight with Aemond you made no effort to talk and fortunately neither did he.

At first being in the skies in such a large dragon made you experience a completely unfamiliar sensation that you had never felt before, with mixed emotions, excitement being the strongest of all.

It was simply something unique to you and that you can't quite describe, but it made you forget for a moment about everything that was happend.

Aemond couldn't help the smile on his face when he saw that expression on your face, understanding very well what you were feeling, feeling good after so many weeks, calm and at peace, finally having you in his arms.

He couldn't help but watch you with that adoration, even though he knew there was still something missing in all of this.

Eventually you began to get used to the sensation of flight and you start to feel nervous and uncomfortable as you feel Aemond's body touching yours, as he practically has you locked in his arms.

But finally that ends, for now, as the three of you make a stop due to exhaustion and bad weather.

The three of you seek shelter in a tavern where they also offer temporary lodging. There aren't many people when the three of you enter, just a few men drinking and two women refilling their drinks, while there's an old man behind a piece of wooden furniture.

"How can I help you?"

"Do you have rooms available?" asks Aemond.

"Yeah, six rooms available," he says as he notices the poor keys hanging on the wall behind him.

"I'll stay here for a while," Aegon says suddenly, "I need a drink or I swear I'll go mad."

"You can drink in the room," Aemond tells him reproachfully, "I'm not going to stay up all night making sure you're all right and don't get into any trouble."

"Fine, as you wish," Aegon replies to him raising his hands in surrender.

"So how many rooms, boy?" the man asks.

You swear he is about to say two, but perhaps he could have sensed the discomfort and tension emanating from your body. And then he lets out a long breath.

"Three rooms, please."

You internally thank him, feeling instantly relieved, as he makes the payment.

One of the women leads you to the rooms, and you enter yours without addressing a word to any of the brothers, desperately needing to be alone and give yourself a time, as well as take a bath.

Fortunately no one bothers you and you only require the help of the woman from before to fill the bathtub with warm water. And she also kindly provides you with dry clothes while you let your rain-soaked dress dry by the warmth of the fireplace.

Then you watch the rain fall through the small window as you stand near the fire, when there is a soft knock on your door. And before you can answer, the door opens and Aemond enters the room, watching you intently.

You press your lips together and lower your gaze, pretending to be occupied with something in your hands.

"Are you all right?" he asks you softly and attentively, keeping a respectful distance.

"Yes," you answer briefly and without emotion, only hearing between the two of you the creaking of wood and the rain outside.

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

He lets out a long breath and guessing from this, he must look tired and frustrated, to which you decide not to take any notice and continue without looking at him, wanting to be alone.

"If you need anything or anything happens, I'll be next door."

You don't say anything, just bite the inside of your cheek and wait for him to finally leave.

"Good night," he says in a defeated voice then walks away and closes the door.

At dawn and practically at first light, the three of you resume your flight back to King's Landing.

The three of you approach Vhagar and Sunfyre, who are not far from the tavern, hidden in the forest among huge and frightening trees. Aegon mounts his dragon first, and again Aemond helps you scale Vhagar's massive size, standing behind you at all times and making sure you don't fall.

And with a mighty flapping of wings, the two dragons take to the sky with flight towards the horizon.

And while it was impossible not to think that the flight with Aemond would be uncomfortable again, you still hoped that things between him and you wouldn't feel so tense.

However, that's exactly what happens.

Practically your back is against his chest, his arms on either side of your waist to take the reins and every now and then you feel his warm breath on the back of your neck which, without knowing exactly why, sends shivers all over your body and makes you uncomfortable.

Being with him like this only relives the first and last time you both spent the night together in your mind and you want to take your distance, which is impossible. And it also relives the pain.

What happened the next morning makes the whole memory painful and overshadows all the happiness you felt at the time.

And in the midst of everything you're feeling, wishing this would end soon, Aemond suddenly breaks the silence between the two of you.

"They never told me," he murmurs in your ear, tensing your body the instant you hear him.

His words leave you bewildered. You don't understand what he's referring to, but you don't decide to ask either. And in the silence that follows, Aemond continues.

"They never told me they would send you away the next day."

This makes your heart flip and involuntarily this catches your attention, not daring to say anything, let alone turn your head to watch him, but feeling the intrigue inside you.

"After everything that happened in the Council Chamber, I had a plan."

He confesses to you and your breath catches at that moment.

"I wanted to keep my mother and grandsire off guard by making them think I had agreed to their terms. And I didn't look for you all that day because I was planning, that at the right time, I would come for you with the help of Aegon and Helaena and we would marry in secret at the Septon."

The impact of his words resonates within you, creating surprise and disbelief in your thoughts, as you feel your heart begin to beat too hard and you begin to breathe through your mouth.

"But I didn't know that, besides trying to see you would be too risky and would only delay things more, so I focused on preparing a discreet escape," he continues with his tone relieving his vulnerability, "And when Hel didn't see you with the ladies or anywhere else, she told me and I got worried. I tried to look for you, but before I knew it, you were gone."

You bite the inside of your cheek as tears begin to form in your eyes and you process the revelation of his words that envelopes you in a sense of overwhelming emotions, shock, disbelief and sadness.

"I couldn't do anything against it and my plan fell apart," he admits, in his voice mixing regret and frustration, "I had hoped to be able to explain you, to take you as my wife and protect you from everything that would come after, because being wed no one could separate us anymore. But, as always, nothing went as I expected and I failed."

The surprise fades and leaves room for sadness and regret, as silence stretches between the two and only the sound of the wind and the flapping of Vhagar's huge wings can be heard.

With the unexpected revelations, Aemond's words float in the air and for a moment you find yourself lost in the feeling of your emotions, with tears streaming down your cheeks, with the feeling of regret and frustration, realizing the complexity of the situation now and then.

You still can't watch him, even though you feel Aemond tilt his head over one of your shoulders, wanting to watch you, but you don't let him. And now it is you who dares to break the silence with a shaky question.

"Did you get married?" you ask, tears still sliding down your cheeks.

"No, Y/N. I never did."

You instantly frown, not understanding.

Your father that very day told you that Aemond was to be wed soon, but not to you. Besides, the Queen and the Hand seemed very serious about making amends with Lord Borros and Floris Baratheon, so the wedding must have taken place, definitely.

"But... my father told me that day..." you swallow hard, " That your wedding to Lady Floris would take place in the next few days."

Aemond sighs and you can feel the heaviness in his reply.

"Yes, but I did everything I could to delay that wedding and eventually... it never happened."

You are silent for a moment, breathing through your mouth.

"And what happened?" you ask in a shaky voice.

"Two days ago the wedding finally took place but Aegon helped me escape the Keep to come for you."

Aemond's words clutch at your heart and disbelief along with surprise intertwine within you as you try to process the magnitude of the words he has just revealed, leaving you breathless. Even you can't describe exactly what you feel.

He abandoned his family.

He did not fulfill his duty... for you.

Surprise mixes with relief in your emotions, but uncertainty also arises. And finally, your eyes desperately seek his, needing him to confirm that what he is telling you is no lie.

His gaze seeks yours for understanding and support, being terribly honest with you. And in the midst of all his remorse and determination, a faint sad smile forms on his lips, in your direction.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, insistent and pleading, "I truly didn't know you'd be sent away the next day and had I known..." he sighs, averting his gaze from yours for the burden of the situation and denies with his head, "I thought my plan would work."

You can't say anything, you don't even know what exactly you feel about all this as Aemond stands there, sadness and determination in his gaze, waiting for your reaction.

But you can't think clearly, you can only look away from him and stare straight ahead, your lips parted.

You still feel shocked, but now you understand the depth of the sacrifices he has made, something you had no idea of. How could you have known that he, for you, had abandoned his duty even considering the grave consequences he will soon have with his family?

When you first saw him on the island, you thought he was married to Floris and only wanted to take you for his selfish whim. But now, you understand everything.

And yet the words get stuck in your throat as you struggle to articulate a response, sadness reflecting in your eyes and you don't even know what to do, unable to fully articulate your thoughts and feelings.

When he again speaks, breaking the silence.

"Do you still hate me?" he asks you softly and with some fear.

His tone carries with it uncertainty and he gives you your full attention, as you take a moment before responding, trying to find the right words for everything you're feeling at that moment.

"I don't know," you confess, in a low murmur, not daring to look at him, "It's too much... all of this is too much."

He nods sympathetically, understanding everything you must be feeling. And, a little unsure at first, he lifts one of his hands slowly, as if afraid that any sudden movement might break the calmness of the situation and then his fingers gently touch your cheek, caressing you slowly, turning your face very carefully towards his.

And there he is again, seeing his beautiful violet eye and unconsciously, his touch and closeness comfort you.

"I just want you to know that every choice I made was in the hope that we could finally be together, as husband and wife," he tells you sincerely.

And again you close your eyes and let the tears roll down your cheeks and he wipes them away, hating to see you cry, not liking that sight but doing his best to ease your pain, even though he is the cause.

"At least you could have let me know what you were planning... in one way or another," you say sadly, "You truly hurt me that day and I felt so... used and broken."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," he says instantly, sad and remorseful, "I'm very sorry, my sweet girl. I promise you that was never my intention. I never thought badly of you, nor was it my wish for you to marry someone else. When I was told that I was furious, Y/N. Especially because I couldn't say anything about it. And when I found out you were gone... I swear I felt I was going to go mad."

You notice the sincerity of his confession and let out a long breath, as Aemond releases the reins with his free hand and holds it at your waist, hugging you. And then he rests his forehead against the side of your head, then leaves soft, comforting kisses on your left cheek.

And despite the discomfort of the position you find yourself in, you turn your body as best you can and seek refuge in his arms, close your eyes and feel the warmth emanating from his body instantly.

His fingers begin to trace gentle circles on your back above your cloak, seeking to bring you comfort and understanding.

Tears continue to slowly stream down your cheeks as he holds you against his body, the difference being that you no longer feel that weight on your being and feel relief instead.

You sigh deeply as Aemond's fingers now gently caress your head, until you finally feel good and separate yourself enough from him to look into his eye.

But you say nothing, just tilt your head towards him and the two of you bring your foreheads together, as Vhagar continues the course of the flight and Sunfyre keeps flying by a few more clouds above.

"Are you all right?" he asks you softly and you nod.

You close your eyes and look straight ahead again, dropping your head between his chest and shoulder with a relieved gesture, to which he can more easily enclose you in his arms.

"Yes," you murmur, then look around briefly.

It's impossible to tell where you are from this height, mostly because you're unfamiliar with the skies, so you decide to ask.

"How close are we to King's Landing?"

You wait for him to respond by telling you that they are flying over the name of some land and give you an approximate of how long until they both arrive at the place where chaos will once again be unleashed by the actions of both of you.

However, you don't expect that kind of answer at all.

"We are not flying into King's Landing."

Instantly you raise your face to him in complete bewilderment.

"I'm going to take you somewhere else."

"Where to?" you ask completely attentive.

Aemond doesn't say anything right away, just lets the wind wrap around you both for a moment as your unease envelops you and you continue to watch him waiting for an answer.

"To Dragonstone."

He finally says and another pause hangs in the air as you raise your eyebrows, still not fully comprehending, when his gaze meets yours, as if he is searching for some clue in your eyes before he continues.

"That's where we're getting married."

Total surprise takes hold of you, your mouth half opens but no words come out and for an instant, nothing comes to your mind to make you react.

Aemond watches your reaction, fearful of what your expression might reflect. And the uncertainty in his gaze mixes with fear as he watches you completely attentively.

"You still want to marry me?" he asks.

His question hangs in the air, as time seems to fade around you and a wave of thoughts invade your mind, surprise and trepidation, deeply understanding his intentions.

Uncertainty is still present, but a spark of longing begins to glow in your eyes.

Aemond eagerly awaits your response, his watchful gaze searching for any expression in yours. And there you see how his own burden of desire and waiting for your acceptance is there.

Then you feel a surge of warmth in your chest.

And finally a small smile forms on your lips, and then you slowly lean into him, closing the distance between you, and press your lips gently on top of his.

It is your silent response, but full of meaning.

And at this, Aemond relieves, feeling the certainty of your choice, while his arms hold you tenderly, as if he fears this is a cruel dream, responding to your kiss with as much warmth and touch as possible.

The wind fiddles with your hair as the majestic flapping of Vhagar's wings engulfs them, heading towards Dragonstone with a great and promising purpose.

And soon both dragons find themselves landing on the island, where Princess Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, resides with her family.

At Dragonstone, Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, along with several other guards, immediately emerge from the black castle with confused, distrustful and curious gazes.

Aemond is the one who takes the word, addressing Rhaenyra, but it is Daemon who responds and very soon they find themselves having an intense discussion. It is Daemon who proclaims that neither of them have any place on the island and that they should not be here.

Aegon and Aemond argue with this, trying to talk to Rhaenyra mainly, but Daemon always vouches for her. Until finally Rhaenyra speaks and listens to the request of her two half-brothers.

Despite the clear rivalry between the two families of the very ill King Viserys, for Rhaenyra that they, especially Aemond, have thought of her to ask for her help with matters of the heart and not politics, speaks to her.

Despite the accident at Driftmark, a night Rhaenyra later spent a lot of time thinking about, she understands that from the beginning, since she and Alicent were little girls, the problem was always with Otto Hightower and his persuasive ideas on Crown decisions.

And when Rhaenyra agrees to help them, Aemond thinks that this is not the acceptance of forgiveness, it is just her half-sister doing him a favor she owes him for that terrible night, where Luke received no punishment.

Besides, there is no time to remember past events, the only thing he cares about is marrying you as soon as possible.

Daemon reproaches and questions his wife's decision, but she decides not to listen to him. She simply wants peace to finally exist between her father's two families and in the Realm.

Rhaenyra provides Aemond and you with everything you need. Even the robes, the dragonglass, the chalice and she also offers to officiate the union for lack of a Septon at the time.

And then... finally the Valyrian wedding takes place amidst the ancestral stones of Dragonstone.

The wind caresses your faces, as if the ancient dragons and the ancient Gods were present, blessing this special moment. You and Aemond stare at each other, face to face, with Aegon as your witness, as Rhaenyra recites the words in High Valyrian.

"Hen lantoti ānogar."

Blood of two.

"Va sȳndroti vāedroma."

Joined as one.

The blade cuts the lips of both, then both collect the blood with their thumbs and place it as a circle on each other's foreheads.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti."

Ghostly flame.

"Elēdroma iārza sīr."

And song of shadows.

"Izulī ampā perzī."

Two hearts as embers.

Then the two cut the palm of each other's hand, join them together and let the blood run into the chalice between your bodies.

"Prūmī lanti sēteksi."

Forged in fourteen fires.

"Hen jenȳ māzīlarion."

A future promised in glass.

The two drink from each other's blood.

"Qēnlossa ozūndessi."

The stars stand as witness.

"Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo."

The vow spoken through time.

"Rȳ kīva mazvestraksi."

Of darkness and light.

And finally, the Valyrian wedding is culminated and permanently sealed as the sun sets over Dragonstone and Aemond's lips claim yours in a passionate and needy kiss, with both of you tasting the faint taste of each other's blood on your lips.

And only then and there, the two of you are finally happy, this being what you had so longed for and hoped for, long ago giving it up for lost. But now, he can call you his wife and you call him your husband.

Eventually the news reaches King's Landing, unleashing a new wave of worry and trouble, but now both you and Aemond are at ease, for no one can separate you now, let alone discredit a Valyrian wedding.

And you both consummate the marriage under the moonlight reflecting off Dragonstone, joining as one, as it was meant to be, long ago.

taglist next part:

@a-beaverhausen

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #hotd aemond #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond one shot #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x y/n

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diorcities · 11 days

Text

𝑎 𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑢𝑠

── haechan feed your baby girl for the first time pairing haechan x afab!reader genre fluff content dad!hyuck, jisoo and donghyun are back! a lot of parenting and concerns, mention of postpartum and breastfeeding, based on a tiktok i saw a while ago, don't read unless you want baby fever to take over <3 happy reading. read lace teddy for more wc 1.5k

the days at the lee's house were always different, though the last few days had become a routine for you; it was time for you to get back to normal. so you did some writing, did some chores, turned in some work to-dos, had your first unaided bath, and by the time haechan came home from the park with the kids, you were cooking some kimchi for dinner: his favorite.

the first thing haechan does upon arrival is to aid the kids in taking a shower before bedtime. although haechan used to say that jisoo could have your eyes and hair but had everything else from him, it was donghyun who most resembled the boy now playing lively with them while dressing them up with their pjs even though he's dying of exhaustion and wants to go to bed with you.

that is, until he hears the soft humming of a lost song coming from the kitchen; haechan feels like he can take a ride to the moon back and forth. finding you at the kitchen counter, you taste something that smells delicious. he wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles up against you, inadvertently humming the melody as he rocks your bodies. suddenly, he's not so tired anymore.

you turn around and his face overloads you with deep affection. eyes flutter and close when you begin to fill his face with smooches. gentle, longing, lovesick kisses until you run out of them, and haechan's lips touch yours, caressing you with his mouth, small and short, lots of them, making purring sounds between each one.

“love, shouldn't you be resting?” he asks, letting you cook again. he can't help but not let you go. you smell divine, like baby powder and coconut perfume, but with something else. more domestic. and wholesome. more like home.

you hum, “i wanted to make you happy.”

he laughs tenderly. you already do.

his hands hold you fondly as you work on the sauce. inevitably, drifting to your belly. empty. “she's sleeping right now,” you whisper, “i have to feed her in a minute, do you want to do it while i put the twins to bed?”

“absolutely,” he says complacently, smiling like a fool.

“can you go prepare her while i finish this?” you're aware when he stops for a fleeting moment before his thumbs make circular motions on your skin again. “you're not coming yet?”

“i'll be in a minute, dear.”

“okay... sure.” his voice is tinged with something akin to fear and anticipation as he removes himself from you. eyes going to eyes in hopes of getting emotional support. because haechan is afraid that he might be very rough, that he might hurt her because he's clumsy. having doubts when he carries her, letting the anxiety take up space until you arrive like a beacon that brings him back, telling him, “there's nothing to be afraid of.” for you only know his gentleness and his sweetness.

“you'll be fine, my love,” you encourage him, leaving a small kiss on both of his cheeks, at the corner of his mouth, until you leave a final peck on his lips, turning your attention to the stove before you burn something.

haechan departs from you and it feels hollow, lacking, where your heart settles, now broken into four pieces. one for each part of you that stays in the people you love the most.

you give the sauce a taste and decide it's done; only a few minutes have passed.

you move to the kitchen counter to prepare the bottle for every time haechan wants to feed little haru. you've milked yourself whenever you can, saving a few rations in the fridge for midnight sessions.

donghyun and jisoo have been growing big and strong. they're mischievous and smart like haechan, even though he says they've taken it out of you, just like your stubbornness. they get into shenanigans every now and then, like the time they wanted to sneak a cat in without you noticing; haechan had allergies for a week because the couches and bathroom had hair from the small animal. and despite that, he sided with the twins to keep it.

haechan's bubbly energy comes out a few times in them, and the picture felt like watching an old photograph of him in motion.

you tuck both of them in bed, rocking their bodies to sleep after they dad their milk, “dad will be here in a minute, to wish you goodnight. i love you, with all my heart.”

“i love you with all my lungs,” jisoo says as you kiss him goodnight.

“but i love you with all my fingers,” donghyun competes, cupping your face with his little hands.

they start bickering until they start to feel too tired to respond to each other. “i love mommy,” jisoo mumbles as he falls asleep. and donghyun hums, “and daddy.” following him, “and baby...”

you leave with a smile, happy. full. steps leading you to the room next door that haechan decorated for the arrival of the baby: a small room with beige furniture and a super comfortable nursing chair where you fed the twins when they were babies, now with pink-painted walls full of sunflowers in pastel shades.

haechan stands at the nursing table where now haru's diapers are changed, having a full conversation with her that you don't feel like interrupting. haechan leaves kisses full of affection and love. and the brief thought that maybe he just can't stop doing it floats in your mind for a while because it happens to you too, until you find out that he says something.

most of them are gibberish you barely can decipher because he's whispering it for her ears only. and his voice is nothing but calm, soft, and lulling as he speaks. “you're my daughter, and you are loved. and i'm gonna take care of you. i will provide for you. mommy will nourish you with good milk. and she will protect you. because we love you, so immensely.”

he hums in agreement with himself. forehead full of his kisses, until they can dispel any doubts. “are you hungry?” he whispers, “mommy is on her way,” he reports diligently. his gaze is filled with fondness, “you have mommy's eyes. they're my favorite thing in the world.” his honey-colored orbs travel to you, aware of your silent stay, and he thinks they shine.

and as he smiles at you, he says, “you'll soon be able to see why, when you grow up.”

a smile blooms on your lips, and he thinks to himself because they don't shine, unless they're full of love.

#haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff #haechan drabbles #haechan imagines #haechan soft hours #♡haechan

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hellodarling1357 · 29 days

Text

Tiny Toes: Part 7 - Cassian x Reader

Hi! It's been awhile and I'm so so so sorry for not posting anything the past few weeks. I've made this part extra long to make up for the wait but have honestly been feeling a little off with my writing at the moment so bear with me while I get back into it 🥰

Also, writing this while being in the middle of an endo flare up was incredibly therapeutic!

Summary: Reader gets her period + Ottie being a menace + family time + fluffy Cassian/reader moments

Word Count: 4.5k

You can read the previous part here

A sharp, stabbing pain tore you from your sleep and had you quickly sitting up in bed as you let out a quiet cry of pain. “Fuck,” you murmured to yourself as you sluggishly pushed the sheets off your too-hot body, mindful of not disturbing Cassian who was fast asleep and softly snoring beside you.

On shaky legs you managed to get yourself to the bathroom, carefully closing the door before turning to look at yourself in the mirror. Wincing at your reflection, you took in the dark circles under your eyes, the pasty, clammy complexion of your skin as you leant heavily against the counter, suddenly overcome by another shot of pain. Turning on the faucet, you splashed your face with the cool stream of water, a momentary reprieve before that unbearable pain made itself known and you found yourself crumbling to the floor, legs unable to keep you upright. The cold tiles offered some comfort as your curled in on yourself and despite knowing that a hot bath would help with the pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

*****

“Y/N?” The sudden call of your name had you jerking awake and blearily blinking up at the bathroom ceiling. The momentary confusion was swept away by the onset of another throbbing cramp that had you squeezing your eyes tightly shut as you breathed through your nose.

“Y/N? Are you in her– Y/N! What happened? What’s wrong?” The comfort of Cassian kneeling beside you and pulling you into his warm body did little to alleviate the pain coursing through you. You desperately held onto his arms as you leant against him, breathing heavily as you waited for the current cramp to subside. You focused on the soothing rise and fall of his chest and the way his fingers softly caressed over your skin before pulling back slightly to look up at his concerned face and offer a small smile that you were sure was more of a grimace.

“I��m fine,” your voice was hoarse and utterly unconvincing judging by the quirked eyebrow Cassian raised at you. “Really, it’s nothing. Just my cycle…” you trailed off as another wave of pain took over. You slumped against Cassian who let out a tut of concern as his fingers wove through your hair, pushing the strands away from your sweaty forehead.

“What do you need?” Cassian asked after a few moments when he felt your body finally relax against him. Shifting so that your face was buried in the crook of his neck you let out a small sigh, snuggling in closer when you felt the press of his lips against the top of your head.

“To be knocked unconscious for the next week.” Cassian’s huff of a laugh caused a small smile to tug at your lips as you let out another sigh against the pain.

“Well I won’t be helping you with that, so how about I run you a bath instead?”

“Fine,” you grumbled as Cassian helped you to your feet and gently lifted you up to sit on the counter, leaving you with a kiss, before he went about filling the bathtub with hot water and soothing oils.

“There, how’s that?” he asked, guiding you over to the steaming tub and helping you peel off your pyjamas.

“Perfect,” you replied as you let the hot water envelop you, “you’re perfect.” You reached out to grab his hand, pressing a grateful kiss to the back of it as you sunk further into the warmth, breathing in deeply as the smell of the oils filled your senses.

You grinned at the soft tinge of pink that spread over Cassian’s cheeks at your words, but he just shot you a playful look before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek then the top of your head. The moment was short lived, however, as another cramp took hold.

“What else can I do?” Cassian’s words were laced with helplessness as he sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring down at you with worry etched across his face. You remained silent, willing the pain to pass as you held onto his hand like a lifeline and stared into the swirls of the water around you.

“I don’t know. Maybe… maybe just a cup of tea? One of Madja’s teas that helps with the pain? It’s in the cupboard –”

“In the cupboard next to the window, right at the back of the shelf in the brown jar. Don’t worry, I remember from last time. What else?” He asked almost desperately. You blinked up at him, the attentiveness and thoughtfulness of the male in front of you still managed to take your breath away even though it should no longer be a surprise to you.

“Other than joining me?” you gave him a mischievous grin, scrunching your nose up and laughing as he flicked water at you with a smirk. “Honestly though, this is enough. More than enough, thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he said softly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ll be right back with your tea, okay? Let me sort a few things out for today, then if Ottie is still sleeping, we’ll see about me joining you. Although, with her track record of interrupting us lately, she’ll be awake the second I get in.”

You laughed at the disappointment in his voice; he wasn’t wrong though. Lately Ottie had seemed to pick up the habit of walking in or making herself known just as things were getting heated, luckily, she was too young to understand what was going on and was seemingly oblivious to the two of you spluttering and jumping apart.

But shit. Now that your mind had trailed to the young Illyrian sleeping soundly down the hall, you remembered the plans you had made with her for today and knew you would have to cancel given your current state. Biting your lip in worry, you missed Cassian returning, steaming mug of tea in hand.

“Here you go. Oh, sweetheart…” you looked up at the concern in his voice as he took in your troubled expression. “Drink this, hopefully it kicks in soon and takes away some of the pain.”

“It’s not that,” you explained, gratefully taking the mug from him with a soft smile. “I just remembered, Ottie and I were meant to go into the city today. We’ve had the whole day planned out for weeks.”

“And why wasn’t I invited?” he teasingly quipped, though you knew he was somewhat serious about missing out on time with the two of you. “Or is this a mummy-daughter bonding day?” The grin on his face matched the one that spread across your own at his words; Ottie had been calling you mummy for the better part of three months now and your heart still skipped a beat every single time, Cassian also couldn’t contain his grin and the look of love and adoration that spread across his face whenever he heard it.

“You weren’t invited because you have work today –”

“Had work. I just spoke with Rhys and have the rest of the week off.”

“Cass…”

“Don’t tell me I didn’t need to; I wasn’t going to leave you alone like this, love.”

You smiled softly at his words, heart pounding in your chest as you gently cupped his face and pulled him down into a kiss.

“Thank you,” you kissed him once more before letting him sit back up against the edge of the bathtub. “But what I was going to say was, you had work today so we thought it would be the perfect time to go shopping for your birthday next week. No, don’t groan about it. You went all out for my birthday so of course I’m going to do the same.”

Cassian glared down at you, and you stared right back up at him with a smug grin, “I’m over 540 years old, sweetheart, you do know that, right? We really don’t need to be celebrating at this point.”

“Okay, sure. But how many of those birthdays did I have with you? How many did Ottie? Don’t pout over the fact that we love you and want you to feel special.”

“The fact that you both love me is enough–”

“Then consider everything else we have planned for you as a bonus.”

Cassan stared you down, letting out a sigh when he realised there would be no changing your mind. “Fine. But only because I love you.”

Your smile was short lived as another cramp coursed through you, causing your breath to catch as your eyes squeezed tightly shut in response. Cassian ran a tentative hand through your hand, doing his best to sooth you and offer some form of comfort.

“Come on, lean forward and I’ll help you wash your hair, then I’m taking you back to bed so you can sleep.” A hum was the only response you could offer as you did your best to will away the pain by focusing on the feeling of Cassian’s fingers rubbing the lavender scented shampoo through your hair.

“We’ll have a bath later?” you asked in a quiet voice as Cassian finished helping you rinse out the conditioner, hands trailing down to rub soothing circles into the tight muscles along your shoulders and back.

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder before helping you stand and climb out of the bath, a fresh, fluffy towel at the ready.

Once you had dried off, Cassian helped you into some clean pyjamas then led you back to bed. He climbed in first before gesturing for you to sit between his legs so that he could brush out your hair. The feeling of his body embracing you and with the constant warmth that seemed to radiate from him, you were quick to relax against him, content in having him simply holding you as you drifted back to sleep.

*****

Once he sensed that you were asleep, Cassian shifted you both so that you were laying down against the pillows, his arms wrapping around you as he did his best to massage your stomach in hopes of alleviating some of the pain without waking you. He let out a sigh, feeling completely useless as he took note of the slight grimace that tainted your soft features, even as you slept.

Cassian quickly found himself dozing off, the comforting and familiar scent of your shampoo lulling him into an easy, but short lived, sleep. A sudden commotion sounded from down the hall and had Cassian lifting his head, careful not to disturb you as you shifted further into the blankets. He slowly pulled away from you, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as he quietly walked over to the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.

“Morning, daddy,” Ottie cheerfully called out to him from where she stood by the stairs, “want to see what I’ve been practicing?”

If he hadn’t been so worried about you, Cassian would have taken a second to think about what Ottie could have been practicing by the stairs, what could have caused the commotion he had heard. Instead, with a hesitant glance towards the bedroom door, he absentmindedly answered, “go on then, princess,” and watched in horror as Ottie all but threw herself down the stairs.

“OTTIE!”

Cassian couldn’t remember a time he had moved so fast in his life as he bounded after her. With all the years of standing against multiple enemies, fighting across multiple battlefields, not once had his heart stopped as it did in that moment, utter, undiluted fear coursing through his veins.

But the delighted giggles that sounded from his daughter broke through that fear as he watched from halfway down the stairs as Ottie flung her wings out and landed with a soft thud at the bottom of the stairs.

Cassian stared at her, frozen to the spot before lowering himself down to sit on the steps, his heart hammering rapidly in his chest as he placed his head in his hands and drew in a deep breath.

“Ottie?” he could hear the strain in his voice.

“Yes, daddy?”

“Promise me,” he started, looking at her as she tiled her head to the side in curiosity, “that, under no circumstances, will you ever do that again.”

“But –”

“No buts. You will not do that again.”

“But mummy will like it, she will want to see it.” Ottie stared back at him, a defiant expression on her face as she crossed her arms.

“No, princess, she will not. New rule, no more flying inside, alright? Or there will be no more lessons for the next four weeks. Including lessons from Uncle Rhys and Uncle Az.” He sternly added when she opened her mouth to argue back.

“Fine,” she finally agreed but Cassian could clearly hear the resentment in her tone. “Don’t you have work today? You’re going to be late.”

He raised an eyebrow at his daughter. Was she trying to coax him out of the house?

“I did but I’m staying home today. Mummy isn’t feeling well,” he explained while ushering her into the kitchen to get a start on breakfast.

“Oh,” Ottie climbed up onto one of the bench stools and waited for Cassian to pass her a plate of toast and a glass of orange juice.

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked between a mouthful of food.

Cassian gave her a look, knowing he was in no position to lecture, but nevertheless, “don’t talk with your mouth full, Otts.”

Making a show of swallowing the mouthful of toast she had been talking around, Ottie cleared her throat then repeated, “what’s wrong with mummy? We were meant to go into Velaris to buy you a – we were going to do something today.” Ottie quickly cut herself off, eyes going wide upon realising she had almost ruined the birthday surprise the two of you had planned for him.

“There’s nothing wrong with her, she’s just got her cycle,” you and Cassian had decided to be completely open about these topics whenever they came up, Cassian was just scared he might stumble with this one without you there to help guide it.

“What’s a cycle?”

“A cycle happens every couple of months to grown females, they bleed for a few –”

“Mummy’s bleeding? She’s hurt?” Ottie’s wide eyes stared back and forth between Cassian and the doorway, as though debating whether to run up and check on you herself.

“No, no, no, princess. Mummy isn’t hurt, alright? It’s normal to bleed during your cycle, and it’s only a little bit. It’s the bodies way of getting ready to have a baby if–”

The excited squeal that Ottie let out had Cassian stopping mid-sentence, staring at her intently as he tried to work out what was running through her head.

“So, mummy has a cycle right now?” she clumsily asked. Cassian nodded, taking a sip of juice as he leant against the counter. “So, that means there’s a baby in her tummy?” And the sip of juice Cassian had just taken was now being spluttered across said counter.

“No, Ottie, that’s not what that means. It’s just the bodies way of…” but Cassian could tell Ottie wasn’t hearing a word of it as she kicked her feet excitedly.

“So, I’m going to have a little brother or a little sister?”

“No, Ottie, mummy isn’t pregnant, alright?” The scare you had a few weeks ago, followed up by an appointment with Madja and a stronger contraceptive made sure of that. “There’s no baby in her tummy.”

“Oh,” Cassian couldn’t help the slight ache in his heart at the dejected look that darkened Ottie’s excited expression. “But one day she might be?”

“Maybe…” the two of you hadn’t really spoken about having a child together, but now that the idea had been planted, Cassian couldn’t help but let his mind wander at the thought.

“Good because I want to be like Nyx.”

“What do you mean you want to be like Nyx?”

“You know, with a little brother or a little sister.”

Well, that was news.

“Nyx is going to have a little brother or sister, is he? And how do you know that?”

“Because he told me. He said that he heard his mummy and daddy talking about wanting to have another baby.”

Cassian found himself grinning at the thought, tucking away that snippet of information to share with you once you were awake and for when he next saw Rhys.

“Can I go and see mummy now?” Ottie asked in a tentative tone.

“She’s sleeping at the moment, princess. Let’s let her rest for now, okay? Then later in the day when she’s feeling better we can go up for cuddles.”

*****

You shifted against the plush mattress as a stream of afternoon sunlight snuck through the crack in the curtains, but it was the quiet patter of footsteps that had stirred you from your sleep. Sluggishly, you lifted your head to look towards the bedroom door where a small, winged frame was silhouetted against the light coming in through the hallway.

With a soft smile tugging at your lips, you whispered out into the dark room, “Hi, Ottie.”

“Hi, mummy,” she replied in a hesitant voice. “Daddy said I couldn’t see you until later once you had rested, but it’s been a long time now…”

“Do you want to come up here?” you asked, heart softening at the eager nod you got in return as Ottie scrambled up the bed to snuggle in beside you. “I’ve missed you today. Sorry we couldn’t go into the city to get daddy’s birthday presents.”

“That’s okay. Daddy told me about your cycle…,” she made an effort to really enunciate the word, causing a smile to spread across your face as you held back a laugh, “…and that you’re bleeding and that you’re not having a baby, yet.”

“Well, I’m still sorry we couldn’t have our day out together. I would’ve much preferred that than being stuck in bed all day.” You replied, choosing to actively ignore her comment about not having a baby yet. Ottie hummed in agreement, shifting so that she could curl up against your side, your arm wrapping around her to hold her close as she rested her head against the crook of your neck.

“What did you get up to today?” you asked in a whisper, not wanting to break the silent trance that had fallen over the room.

“I painted like Auntie Feyre showed me. And I helped daddy make lunch and then we played some games. He’s doing some work in his office, so I tip-toed past him because I wanted to see you,” she whispered back, lowering her voice even further as she explained how she managed to deceive Cassian. “Daddy was really worried about you today and kept coming up here to check on you, so I thought I would look after you while he’s busy working.”

“Well, I’m already feeling much better thanks to your cuddles.” Ottie grinned at you in delight, pressing a sloppy kiss to your check before continuing to tell you all about her day.

“Oh,” she exclaimed as though remembering something important, “Daddy also said there’s a new rule: no more flying inside. I don’t think he was very happy with me.” You stifled another laugh at the voice she put on when reciting Cassian’s new rule.

“And why wasn’t he happy with you?”

“I don’t know…”

“Ottie…”

“Because I jumped down the stairs,” she quickly said, the words muffled against your shoulder as she cuddled even closer to you.

“More like threw yourself down the stairs before catching yourself at the last minute,” Cassian’s stern tone had you both looking up to find him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. You glanced at Ottie, who was looking at her dad with a guilt-ridden expression, before turning back to Cassian who nodded in confirmation.

“So, the new rule,” he continued, making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge beside you, “no more flying inside, or else…”

“…or else there will be no flying lessons for four weeks.” Ottie mumbled back.

“Exactly,” he fixed Ottie with a look before his eyes trailed over your face in concern.

“I’m fine, Cass.”

“She is,” Ottie started, speaking up before Cassian could say anything. “She said my cuddles made her feel better. Right, mummy?”

“It’s true,” you smiled, bopping her on the nose as you turned back to face Cassian. “Her cuddles are truly magical.”

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be then if I’m up against magical cuddles, but is there room for one more in there?”

“What do you think, Otts? Should we move over? Make some room for daddy?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know!” Cassian exclaimed in faux offence, leaning across you to tickle Ottie as she tossed against your side to get away from him, fits of her infectious laughter filling the room.

“What about if he comes back with a cup of tea for me? Can he join us then?”

Ottie fixed a contemplative look on her face, struggling to hold back a grin as she eyed Cassian up and down.

“How about, I make mummy a cup of tea that will make her feel better, and throw in two of our special hot chocolates? How does that sound?”

“Deal.” You watched on in amusement as Ottie stretched out her small hand, Cassian taking it in his as they shook in agreement.

“Deal,”

“Come on then. I need my chocolate taste tester with me if I’m going to be making special hot chocolates.” Ottie scrambled out of your arms and ran out the bedroom door. Cassian turned to you, looking as though he was about to say something before, “Ottie! Remember to–”

“I know. Walk, don’t fly. You already told me.” Her little voice echoed back, followed by the resounding thump of disgruntled footsteps as she walked down the stairs.

Cassian shut his eyes, an exhausted expression taking hold before looking back at you with a soft smile.

“Kids, hey?” you teased, both of you listening to Ottie making the final stomp down the stairs.

“Kids,” he repeated with a shake of his head. “gotta be crazy to want them.”

You hummed in response, the silence settling between you both for a second too long as you nestled back against the pillows.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?” Cassian asked, tucking some stray strands of hair away from your face.

“Yeah, just a bit sore, but not as bad as this morning.”

“Good,” he leant down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, pulling back a bit to gently cup your face before pressing his lips against yours. “I’ll be back. Do you need anything else while I’m downstairs?”

Shaking your head with a small, content smile, you quickly reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face back down to yours for another kiss before whispering, “thank you.”

“I already told you, no need to thank me.” He replied with a wink before making his way out the door.

You let out a sigh as you drag yourself out from underneath the sheets, stretching as you make your way over to the other side of the room to open up the curtains and the window, letting in the fresh afternoon air.

“Ottie,” You stilled as Cassian’s voice echoed up from the kitchen. “What did I say about flying inside?”

“I was helping you! You asked me to get the chocolate, I couldn’t reach it, now I can…” You couldn’t help the laugh you let out as you pictured what was currently happening downstairs.

*****

Ten minutes later Cassian and Ottie returned, one steaming mug of tea and two hot chocolates between them that were all placed carefully against the bedside table. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Ottie exclaimed before racing out of the room.

Cassian sat beside you, hiding his face against your neck with a groan as he mumbled, “she is going to be the death of me.” You stretched your arm up so that your hand could trail through his hair.

“She’s growing up.”

“And she’s already a handful. She’s lucky that I love her…” he joked as Ottie walked back into your bedroom, arms loaded with soft toys and books that were place at the end of your bed.

“These always make me feel better, so I thought they might help you too,” Ottie explained with a shrug as she passed you her favourite teddy bear.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Alrighty, now that we’re all here,” Cassian said with a pointed look at Ottie’s pile of toys, causing a giggle to escape her as she settled down beside you. “One tea for you.”

“Thanks, Cass.” You said, taking the mug from him and smiling at the wink he shot your way.

“And one special hot chocolate for you.” He said, carefully handing the mug to Ottie before settling in on your other side and draping the blankets snuggly across the three of you.

“Thanks, Cass.” Ottie copied you with a cheeky grin that looked identical to Cassian’s.

“No, nuh-uh, nope,” Cassian leant forward to round on Ottie who was giggling from the safety that came from you being between them both. “You, missy, you do not call me that.”

“Why not…Cass?” she repeated.

“Because,” he looked at you for backup, eyes widening in betrayal when he found you stifling your own laughter. “Because you’re my little girl, that’s why.”

Before Ottie could jump in again, you cut her off, “I think what your dad is trying to say, is that you calling him by his name, instead of daddy, is making him feel old. He is turning 544 next week, you know.” You teased in a conspiratorial voice, nudging Cassian’s side as he scoffed and leant back against the pillows.

“So much for making me feel loved and special,” he jokingly muttered, referring back to the birthday conversation the two of you had that morning.

With a gentle nudge to Ottie’s side, you gave her a look that had her letting out an over-dramatic sigh, “I’m sorry, daddy. Sorry for making you feel old.” There was no chance of holding back your laugh at her words, especially when Cassian simply shook his head in defeat as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you tightly against him.

Back in the warmth and comfort of his arms, with Ottie nestled in tight on your other side, you found yourself relaxing further into the mattress as the effects of the tea took hold. The soothing rise and fall of Cassian’s chest from where you rested your head, along with the playful back-and-forth banter and melodic laughter that filled the room made that excruciating pain you had been feeling all day worth it if it meant being able to have a moment like this.

*****

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samsno1 · 3 months

Text

Honesty

Sam Winchester x Reader

lmao, i'm sorry. this is kind of an au where instead of sam getting the trials...you do! haha......might make a second part to this but i'll see how it'll do. also, in this there isn't the stupid "sam doesn't look for dean in purgatory" because the writers were fucked up when they wrote that, respectfully (or not)

Summary: You finally have a chance to close the Gates of Hell, forever, but everything comes with a cost, the question is, are you willing to pay for it?

Warnings: ANGST, love confessions, sad sammy, kisses, reader sees bobby as a father figure, reader is shorter than Sam, NOT PROOF-READ, english is not my first language

WC: 3.7k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

As you lie there, soaked in hellhound's blood, panting after a fight against the creature, the glasses you wore to be able to see it dirty and obstructing your view, Sam and Dean stare at you, frozen and horrified.

You knew they would try and talk you out of doing the trials, especially after Dean's words to both you and Sam before he went on to almost get killed by the hellhound. Of course you two had followed him, even if Dean explicitly said not to, and you ended up under the dog, his disgusting breath fanning on your face as he barked above you, trying to rip your neck off. You knifed it and it quite literally exploded over you, bathing you in his gooey substance.

Now, all of you were in a room, Dean pacing back and forth while Sam just stood with his head down. You had your arms crossed, your eyes accompanied Dean's movements. He was restless, probably angry and desperately trying to find a way to counter this.

“We can find another hellhound,” He argues “I kill it then it's all solved”

“Dean, Crowley will be even more on our asses over this, he will not let his dogs out of the leash” You say, calmly, trying to counter Dean's protectiveness in the lightest way possible. “I can do them”

After you said that Dean stopped pacing around and both him and Sam looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed, almost as if you had just admitted to an unforgivable crime. The crime in the case was wanting to protect the brothers from these crazy trials. You knew how death followed them around like a plague and you couldn't handle losing them.

“No, Y/N, you're not doing these trials” Sam speaks up, a tinge of anger in his tone. Anger, worry. He looked at you, his hair casting a shadow over his face because of the poor lightning in the environment. “You could die”

“Well, too bad Sam�� You said and the boys shared that look, a silent conversation between both of them, something that pissed you off in these moments because you had the right to know what they were plotting. “Look, I know you two feel like you have some responsibility over me, this…instinct to protect me ever since Bobby…” You trailed off, the memory of the man you considered to be your father still too heavy on you. Sam frowned and Dean changed his position, on edge. You cleared your throat, the sudden lump bothering you. “But I can protect myself, I can fight my own battles and, honestly? If we do close the gates of hell for good, which battles will be there to fight?” You say with a faint smile.

You look between both of them. They seemed deep in thought. Too deep and that worried you. You slowly walked towards Sam and when he took notice he stiffened up, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly, his eyes taking in your rather dirty appearance. But still beautiful, he mentally stated.

Sam always thought you were the most incredible woman he ever met, invincible even, nothing could ever put you down and you could make everything work your way with your amazing mind and skills. And, obviously, your killer looks always managed to stun him every time, everywhere.

He was used to seeing you in any type of clothing, from suits and dresses to sweats and shirts with corny sayings written in the front, which you argued were comfortable. And you always looked absolutely gorgeous wearing anything. Sam used to think he just admired you, the looks from afar were just friendly appreciation, his yearn to be around you was just a protective instinct, the goosebumps on his skin when you’d touch him were just a natural reaction…

Until it wasn’t just. It was. And that was horrifying.

And it got worse when both you and him spent the last year alone looking for Dean and Cas. Spending so much time beside you made Sam realize what he truly felt towards you and he was scared. Scared to say anything and scared to lose you. So, when you killed that hellhound, his heart fell to his stomach because he knew you would want to do the trials.

And when you stretched your hand to him, looking directly in his eyes, that determined gaze of yours slicing through his soul, he knew you would do anything to go along with this.

“Sam, give me the spell” You said firmly, not a request, a demand. He swallowed again, still speechless, still frozen, his fist tightening around the small paper which contained the words in enochian you were supposed to recite for the trials to start. You emphasize your demand by widening your eyes angrily and doing ‘come here’ motions with your stretched hand. “Sam”

“Y/N-”

“Dean.” You interrupt, anger seeping into your tone, making Dean shut his mouth into a thin line and a huff of air come out of his nose, just like a child would do when it was refused candy before dinner. He thought he’d seen you like this before, determined, practically unstoppable but boy was he wrong. You were more than insistent and that rang an alarm in Dean’s head. You knew that the one responsible for the trials could die and you were willingly going with it.

“Dean, can you give us a moment” Sam speaks up again and you quirk an eyebrow at him, looking between him and his brother. Sam looks at Dean, his pleading eyes and subtle nod giving enough information for Dean to get the message across. If there is one thing that can make you understand is honesty.

Dean slowly walks out of the room, giving you one last look that said clearly that you needed to listen with an open heart and mind to anything Sam would say. When he closed the door behind him, Sam’s eyes were already on you, trained on your features and you shifted your weight on your feet, his stare intimidating.

“So?” You said, trying to keep your ground. Sam sighed and lowered his head, considering all his options in the situation, he could tell you everything and be either rejected or accepted, he could lie to you, give you the wrong spell and work his way out like he always did and still keep you safe. Honesty. The word echoed in his mind like a chant.

He pushed himself off the table he was leaning on, crossing with you and going towards the bed to sit down. Your whole body accompanied his movements, his long strides making the distance between the table and the bed shorter than it actually was.

Once sat he looked at you and then at the spot beside him on the bed, silently asking you to sit with him and you caved, obliging to him. Your feet were light on the floor, quiet, accustomed to being silent while being a hunter, as you walked to the bed. The hardness of the cushion was not too much of a bother but still kept you grounded. Don’t let your guard down.

After making yourself as comfortable as possible, sitting criss-crossed, you turned towards Sam who was with both his feet on the floor, staring at his hands drying his sweat on his jeans. You waited for him to travel inside his own mind, finding the words, the phrases, the honesty.

Honesty. Honesty. Honesty.

You swam in your own thoughts, especially those in which Sam was included. And those were the few thousands of reasons you wanted to be the one doing the trials, not him, not Dean. In your time alone, Sam had opened up to you about his want to live a normal life, away from apocalypses, monsters, gods…White picket fence, the whole nine. Dean had wanted that too, hell maybe he wouldn’t let go completely of the hunting but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with demons on his ass, never ever again. You didn’t see yourself getting out.

You grew up in this, much like the boys, but to you was different. You liked it. The adrenaline was like a drug pumping through your veins everytime you killed an abomination and, honestly, family wasn’t your strongest trait. All those whom you considered family were cremated – just because…we don’t usually bury hunters, so you can’t say they are six-feet under. Your love life was most definitely inexistent, you didn’t have time for falling in love with anyone.

Until. You did.

Until you fell. And hard. Face first in a bag of nails because you knew it would be trouble falling in love with Sam Winchester. You were both unlucky when it came to that feeling, always losing, always sacrificing, always in a battle. But how could you not? He was a gentleman in full, kind, sweet, caring and at the same time deadly – no pun intended. He would protect those he cared for with his life, his sense of protection his greatest quality. He was so selfless sometimes it made you mad. You had told him once ‘Be selfish, just this one time!’ and even so he couldn’t. It wasn’t his nature.

Sam wanted out of this and you wouldn’t let him abandon that dream because of you. You weren’t worth his life, you told him once after following a lead on how to open the doors to Purgatory and pull Cas and Dean out that almost got both of you killed. You were crying as you drove him to the hospital, the blood on your hands staining the steering wheel.

He was pale, his hand weekly pressing over the wound on his stomach, his breathing shallow. When you told him that, he trained his tired eyes on your face and in a rough and tired voice told you to shut up. Shut it, jerk. And fainted.

At the hospital you stayed hours by his bed every day. The doctors had told you he would be okay, that thankfully no vital organs were damaged and when he woke up you hugged him tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck desperately trying to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. His hands soothed you, rubbing your back up and down. You won’t get rid of me that easily, he had said and you laughed.

Ever since then you swore to yourself that you would guarantee that Sam wouldn’t put himself in danger for you anymore and you were not breaking that promise.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Sam spoke and you turned your eyes to his face, his hair shining against the yellow light and worry lines between his eyebrows.

“John had left you at Bobby’s and when I came back from school you scared the shit out of me. I had my gun in hand and everything until Bobby popped up, desperately trying to explain” You said, smiling at the memory. You were all so young back then, Sam was still shorter than you – which didn’t last long – and you had lost your parents a few months back.

“Ever since that night I knew you would be…something in the long run” You gave him a puzzled look and he laughed lightly at your face, his dimples appearing on his cheeks. “I knew you would turn out to be strong, brave and I knew you would end up being one of the most important people to me”

You smiled stupidly at that, your face heating up. You didn’t know what to say to him, your eyes drifting to your fingers over your lap because you couldn't keep his strong gaze. Sam sighed and considered his options, he could either hide his feelings for longer or be honest. Honesty, honesty. The word echoed through his mind like a mantra.

Sam reached his hand to wrap over one of yours, making your eyes shift from your hands to his face again. Physical touch wasn't uncommon between the both of you. Sleeping in the same bed when motels were full, sleeping on each other's shoulders, – more you than Sam given the height difference – hugs, cheek kisses, cuddling while watching movies. But something about this hand hold felt more intimate, like a wave of emotions were being poured over you like cold water. Sam squeezed your hand.

“I can't lose you” Sam said, his voice low because he knew that if he spoke any louder he could break.

“Sam–”

“Y/N. Please.” He begs, even if he doesn't know what he's begging for. Please, let me talk. Please, don't do the trials. Please, love me like I love you. “I can't lose you”

He repeats and you feel like you just got punched in the guts or like a knife went through your chest. He sounded so raw. Those four words meaning more than any poetry you've ever laid eyes upon. You squeeze his hand to ground yourself.

“Can't or won't?” You ask, voice weak.

“Both” He answers. “Both because I won't let you do this and can't because if I lose you I won't know how to keep going.”

You shake your head no, closing your eyes for a brief moment, your memories together flooding in again. His smile tattooed in your brain, his laugh playing over and over like a broken vinyl. You needed to do this.

“If I do this then that means you can finally have a life, a wife, kids…I can't let you lose this.” You say, tears welling up in your eyes. “And I need to do this for you, for Dean, for Charlie…Losing me is just a consequence for the greater good”

Now it's Sam who shakes his head, low breathy no's coming out of his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes watery and those stupid puppy dog eyes staring right into your soul, crushing your heart to pieces.

“You don't get it” He says “When I look into the future I can't imagine–” He takes a breath, considering whether to tell you or not. Fuck it. “I can't imagine it without you. The house, the kids running around, the dog…they're ours.” He stops for a moment, waiting to see if you caught what he meant but you just looked at him, wide beautiful eyes full of confusion.

“Sam what are you–”

“And you're the wife. My wife.” He says and he can see the realization come into your face, slowly. The way your jaw drops slightly, your shoulders tense and your hand squeezes his even harder. Sam swallows but now he can't back away. “So I can't let you do this because if you do it and die I won't be able to keep going because I love you, Y/N. I love you and even if you don't reciprocate I won't stop loving you. You're the first thing I think when I wake up and the last thing I think about once I fall asleep.” He keeps going, almost out of breath once he finishes, avoiding your eyes, avoiding rejection. “So, please, don't”

Don't do this, don't reject me, don't run.

“Sam, look at me” You say, one hand slowly grasping his cheek, your thumb drying a tear that he didn't know had fallen. Once he looked at you he saw you smiling. Smiling with teary eyes. “I love you, too”

You practically whispered and a feeling rushed into Sam's body. Like someone had shot him up with adrenaline and suddenly he was aware of everything around him, your warm hand on his cheek, your hand under his, the white noise of the animals outside. And his own heartbeat.

He closed the distance between the both of you, his lips finally touching yours in desperation. Pure and raw desperation. His hand went up your arm to your neck, gently pulling you more into him and yours slipped to tangle into his hair, running the soft locks through your fingers.

The kiss felt electric and it burned. Burned you from the inside out with the wave of a thousand emotions. Your head went back to those moments with Sam. Your mind was just completely him.

And it was the same for the Winchester.

He already had thoughts consisting mostly of you but now he felt in heaven, like in finally connected with whom he mostly desired, both physically and emotionally. His other hand slipped around your waist to pull yourself over him as he laid down on the bed.

You followed and slightly smiled into the kiss. Until you grounded yourself. Sam wouldn't let you do the trials, not now that you had confessed, not now that he knew you loved him too. So you had to take matters into your own hands.

As Sam laid you over him, you straddled his hips, the kiss continuing into an unexplained hunger and lust for each other. You sensually dragged your hand down his chest, earning a soft gasp out of him, both his hands tangling in your hair, messing up your curls.

Your hand that slid down his body discreetly went into his pocket, feeling for the paper with the spell written on it. You mentally apologized over and over to Sam, your mouth opening to let his tongue in to explore it, butterflies flying around in your stomach. He was gentle, caring but yet hungry and you could feel it.

I'm sorry.

You pulled away breathless, the paper clutched in your hand and Sam looked at you through hooded eyes, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths and a confused frown on his face.

“I'm sorry Sammy” You said as you got off the bed and started to quickly pronounce the words in enochian, your hands trembling around the paper. Sam widened his eyes once he realized what you'd done, patting his pocket in reflex, knowing you had taken it out of there, and stubbled off the bed.

“Y/N, no, please!” He yelled but it was too late. Once you said the last word an almost unbearable pain cursed through your whole body, knocking you to your knees, a loud groan of pain leaving your throat.

Sam kneeled beside you with a hand on your back, mumbling curses and apologies to you but you couldn't hear him, the pain so strong it made your ears ring. You felt a burn, like you had injected lava into your veins, opening your eyes to see your arms shining. Everything was spinning and the only thing guaranteeing you that you were still alive was Sam's warm touch over your back.

After seconds of excruciating pain you felt it going down and saw your arms returning to their normal tone. You collapsed into Sam's arms and he made sure to hold you tightly, still mumbling apologies with his eyes glossy with tears.

“Why did you do this?” He repeated, over and over. He didn't know if he wanted to kill you or hug you so he decided for the latter. He hugged your frame, pressing your head against his chest with a trembling hand and giving light kisses over it.

His other hand pressed your back against him, making your whole body stay in contact with his. His knees hurt on the hard ground but nothing compared to the pain he felt in his heart. He felt helpless.

You opened your eyes to look up at him, a faint smile on your face. You lifted a hand up to his cheek and took a very good look at the handsome man you loved. He was crying but he always looked beautiful, no matter how.

At your touch he closed his eyes, guilt spreading through his body. He touched his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes until you spoke up.

“I did this because I love you” You said and he opened his mouth to protest. You gave him a look, saying you weren’t done. “I love you too much to see you die and I know you can keep going if I die, you are one of the strongest men I know. You’re smart, you’re brave and you went through so much that I can’t let you give it up because of me. And you know I would never, ever, let you take responsibility over this and I don’t want you to blame yourself, this was my choice”

“I can’t– I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry I got you into this, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you–” You stopped him with a kiss and he sighed sadly, his hands wrapping around you tighter as if you would disappear at any second. You felt horrible but at the same time relieved. Relieved that if anything happened, Sam would live.

“Don’t say that” You whisper against his lips. “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault. This is on me.” You say as you pull slowly away to look into his eyes, the mix of colors hypnotizing you. You felt like you could see every ounce of his soul through those eyes and it was filled with sadness.

Sam was angry, not at you, at himself. The moment he saw the hellhound die above you, bathing you in its blood he knew it was over, that you wouldn’t back away but still he blamed himself. If I were quicker. If I were smarter. The words ran around in his brain. When he looked at you he saw yet another one of those he loved dead. Another corpse that hung over his shoulder.

“We can do this, I can do this. I’m strong enough” You said. Sam knew you were strong but this was beyond you. This was God and Demons and Heaven and Hell. This was biblical and nothing like the things you faced before. He was scared.

“I know you are but what if I’m not?” He asks and you wait for him to continue. “What if I’m not strong enough to let you go if it comes to it?”

“You’ll have to be. If not for yourself, for me. Keep going for me” You reply with a soft look and a slight smile that made Sam choke on a sob and smash his lips against yours.

This kiss was filled with different emotions. Sadness, grief and guilt were poured into it but yet so much love. So, so much.

You didn’t get a verbal answer from Sam but you got plenty of information from the kiss. I’ll try, for you.

And that was enough.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo.

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