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rustedhearts · 14 days

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i want your things in my room (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve harrington: resident frat boy heartbreaker. handsome, charming, good in bed—what's not to love? if only he loved you. based on this sexy thought of mine

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ rolly’s roller wheels blurbs commissions! ✶ blurbs!

tags: frat boy!steve, situationship, asshole-ish!steve, pining, kind of feral reader because i was feral writing this, smut.

"i want your things in my room, i miss you all of the time. i stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find...you look so cool, I wanna die. is it too soon to say what's on my mind?"

— in my room, julia wolf

for the lovely 🫧

wc: 2,095 (oops)

delta phi. saturday april 12th, 2009

Cords of muscle suffocated under the tight sleeve of a red cutoff—ripped while weight-lifting on the porch, you imagined. Knowing Steve, it was intentionally and meticulously cut in the bathroom mirror for a blurry cellphone image sent to another fling.

You never received texts like that. The only texts you received were late in the evening or at the crest of midnight:

you up?

coming over. unlock the back door.

The one trip-up in this eight month routine came two weekends ago at nine p.m.

coming over, brought you a surprise. want you to wear it saturday.

It was a tight white t-shirt promoting Steve for Delta Phi Senior President. You wore it like he asked, lingering in the basement corner of another Saturday party with a lukewarm beer you wanted to throw up when you saw hordes of other girls wearing the exact same thing.

He didn't even look at you that night.

But he messaged, an hour after you skulked home with a hoodie zipped over his face printed on your left tit.

didn't see you leave. can i swing by later?

He did. And you let him crawl over your naked body under a pink duvet and place his mouth wherever he liked. He didn't apologize, and you swallowed down the sharp sting of tears every time he told you how pretty you were—knowing every girl wearing his face that night received the very same treatment at one point.

You weren't special. You knew that. But he had such a way of making you feel like you were. Catching your eye through passing bodies, lifting his mouth in a sideways grin, wiggling his fingers in a tiny wave when he knew no one was looking. Cupping the back of your head in the checkout line at the coffeeshop when he passed by, because somehow he always knew when you were there. He never said a thing, but he had your heart stuttering every single time.

So, here you were. Another Saturday night in a dark Delta Phi corner, sipping a Twisted Tea and struggling to swallow past the lump of hurt in your throat when Steve's head turned to follow the path of a pretty and petite blonde. Watching his biceps flex under his sleeve, his hips turn in a pair of Levis often rumpled on your floor. You washed them once, when he came and got sick in your bathroom after a particularly intense recruitment night.

Steve lifted a wide hand and swept it through the front of his hair. You could almost smell it, the Old Spice soaked in those chestnut tresses. You used his bathroom on the second floor one time, found the red shampoo bottle resting on the edge of the tub.

And maybe you popped the cap and smelled it, closed your eyes and imagined Steve was right in front of you, pressing his cheek on your chest the way he did post-coital: panting wordlessly, letting you feel the warmth of his flesh clinging to yours, running your fingers through his hair to bring him back down.

Steve's eyes cutting your way yanked you from your warm, gut-wrenching thoughts of him. Over the swell of his own bicep: a pair of hazels fixing on your figure across the room. Your heart lurched to your throat when you locked gazes, fingers twitching to wave. He wouldn't wave back. You knew without a doubt.

But those lips quirked up in acknowledgement, and that was enough. Enough to have heat lapping at your face and coiling in your stomach. Enough to know he'd message after the party, when most of the crowd dispersed and his buddies wandered off to bed. Enough to know you'd feel his breath on your face tonight, feel his mouth over your body.

That was more than enough.

✶ ✶

You waited.

Waited—fully dressed on your bed, lamp clicked on in the darkness of the night—with the skin of your thumb between your teeth. Gnawing between glances at your phone, waiting for it to buzz with his name. The deeper the night grew, the hungrier you became. Hungry for his tongue sliding around your mouth, his fingers digging into your ribs with every pull back against his body. His palm cupped around your throat the way it often did when he took you from behind, keeping you braced against his chest so he could feel you struggle to catch your breath.

You waited. You bid your roommate goodnight through a closed door and waited. You peeled your outfit off layer by layer, checked your messages for his name, and waited. You laid back on your bed holding your phone to your faded-t-shirt-clad chest, and waited.

The hunger nestled between your legs, aching and pulsing with soreness. It was terrible how conditioned you were for Steve's attention. How horribly you craved it.

Somehow, his air of coolness made you want it more. When he avoided your eye, when your texts went unanswered, when he brushed by at a party and looped your pinkies together—you wanted him something awful.

But you wanted him most when you had him. When he was running his nose through the sweat on your neck, big hands sweeping over your stomach under the t-shirt he guided over your head. His t-shirt, always asked for in a groggy, early morning exchange before he left. When he was whispering—unwilling to wake your roommates—and promising that you were the only one he'd ever felt this close to.

"Swear nobody's made me feel so fuckin' high before," he'd say. "Love your body, baby, you're so pretty."

Tears squeezed at your lash line, burning as they spilled over. You swiped at them irritatedly, setting your phone on the nightstand and turning away from it.

And then it buzzed.

You flung your hands toward the vibration, snatching the scratched device eagerly.

coming.

missed you.

Falling back against your pillows, you let out a long, blissful sigh. He missed you. That was new.

Your phone buzzed with the long-awaited "here" text, and you had to catch yourself on the stair railing to avoid running toward the door. But the way you swung the door open and tugged him in did little to hide your excitement, and it had Steve grinning wide as you hurried back toward your room.

"Wait," he chuckled, stumbling over his sneakered feet. "Christ, you're quick to the belt tonight."

You clamped your bedroom door shut carefully, spinning around to find Steve toeing his shoes off at the end of your bed. His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek when he turned to face you again. The smirk on his mouth was delicious.

Suddenly, all that hunger coursing through you fizzled to coyness. But Steve liked when you were shy. He thought it was cute.

"C'mere."

The way he called to you—softly, a sweeter version of his usual tone—always had your nerves tingling.

You stepped in front of him, giggling when he plucked at the faded, stained material of your bed shirt near your chest.

"Sexy 'jamas," he chuckled, swooping down to press your mouths together.

"Thought...you weren't...coming," you mumbled between detachments and quiet, wet smacks.

He said nothing this time, letting his hands drop to your hips to steer you around. He guided you onto the bed, and the pair of you moved like a well-oiled carnival ride until you reached the pillows. Two heavy palms pressed into the feathers on either side of your head, and Steve's mouth continued lapping at yours vigorously.

One thing about Steve was that he was always pleased to incorporate foreplay. He loved the art of kissing, and he knew it well.

Steve pulled away far too early, moving his lips to your cheek. Down your jaw, under the junction where nerves tingled for his attention under your ear. You fisted the thin fabric of his shirt as he dragged his nose across your jaw.

"Did ya miss me, honey?" His voice took on a low gravel that brought your hairs to their ends.

Your eyes fluttered between opened and closed, hips shifting on the bed. Your breath already shallowed.

"Mhm."

"Mhm? Tell me," he cooed, nose rubbing a small circle into your cheek, breath hot on your skin. "Tell me you missed me, pretty girl."

You blinked your eyes open, glazing over the length of his lashes and flecks of honey and emerald in his gaze. You could barely feel your own body, could barely form a sentence on your own.

"I missed you," you whispered dazedly.

Steve moved his eyes down to your stomach as he dragged the t-shirt toward your collarbones. His hand glided over your navel and between your breasts.

"Missed you, too. Take your shirt off f' me, sweetheart."

He knelt at the end of the bed and watched you undress intently, eyes tracing the curves of your body as he pressed to his knees and fumbled with the buckle of his belt. When the pair of you were bare, he returned to his place hovering above you, and you took your chance to roam your hands over his chest. Firm, warm, smooth-skinned. Lifting your back off the bed, you buried your nose in his throat and inhaled deeply. Steve's chuckle rumbled through you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel ashamed.

"Smell good," you remarked quietly.

Steve tipped his head away from your face until you settled back into the pillows. He grinned down at you there, hair curling over his forehead and toward his brow.

"Yeah? That's new."

You shook your head, tongue fat and dumb in your mouth. Your fingers traced down his arms bracing your head. "No...always smell good."

A swallow bobbed in his throat. The back of his finger nudged your cheek from the pillow beside you. "Yeah?"

You nodded this time, meeting his eye with what he could only call a lovestruck stare—all rounded and doe-like. "Yeah."

He wished you'd shut your eyes. He wished you'd stop looking at him like he was some sort of saint. He wished you'd stop letting him get away with all the shit he put you through.

Steve was quick to switch gears, pecking a short, painful kiss to your mouth before flipping you by the hips onto your stomach. You gasped at the quick and irritated pull of your hips upward until your ass was arched in the air. He pressed on the dip in your back and you let your stomach drop toward the mattress.

"Good," he sniffed. "Look good like this."

Because he couldn't see your eyes.

And you let him fuck you like that, pummeling so deep that you were buried in the mattress by the time he was done. You didn't cum and he knew it, and the pair of you settled flat with quiet gasps. He didn't press his cheek to your chest this time, didn't tangle your fingers together between sticky bedsheets. He laid there only a few silent moments before reaching for his pants.

"Hey," you called softly, propped up on your elbows. "You're not gonna stay?"

The broad muscles of Steve's back flexed and rolled as he hoisted his jeans over his hips and secured his belt. He pulled his shirt on without turning around, feet shoved into his sneakers before you could even sit all the way up.

"Nah," he said, turning only as he headed for the door. "Gotta...um, study."

Brows furrowing, a small giggle slipped from your mouth. "Study? You don't study."

Another swallow, noisy and paired with two eyes fixed on the floor. His voice neared a whisper when he spoke again. "Trying something new."

You watched him open the door just enough for him to fit through. You hugged your soiled sheets around your bare body and felt the hunger dim to hurt again.

Steve stepped into the doorway and turned his head an inch, but not enough to see those pretty features again. "Later."

You wanted him to miss you again. You wanted to press your nose back into his neck and breathe him in. You wanted him to bring his words down low where they belonged when he spoke to you. You wanted to be his girl for a few moments more, to feel his affection through every drag of his mouth and hands.

But the door closed, and you were left to watch him jog across the street through a sliver in the drapes instead.

Just another t-shirt. Just another girl in love with Steve Harrington.

#rolly!#steve harrington #fratboy!steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington au #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine

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cranberryjuice-posts · 2 months

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I’ll crawl home to her

Pairings - Abby Anderson x Fem! Teacher! Reader

An - i love this trope of Abby with a teacher like, her coming home after a long day of patrolling and clearing out infected and her just wanting to be in your arms and hear about your day

An pt 2- hozier is slowly taking over my life him and mitski will be my downfall

Palestine aid link

Abby leaned back in the bed of the truck, her cheeks bright red from exhaustion and the heat. The setting sun blaring down on her and her group after a long day of patrolling.

She hated days like these. Having to leave you before you woke up, just to be out all day until the sun set. Manny chuckled “ahí va ella” Abby looked over at him unamused. “What’s that supposed to mean”

“Nothing Nothing Just pointing out something” he continued. The blond sighed annoyed before looking behind her at the fast moving scenery. Secretly she wondered what the world would of been like if it hadn’t ended— would she of met you, would you both of still been happy, maybe you would of met her dad.

Pushing that thought aside Abby lifted her hand waving at the guys on guard to let their group into the base. Once off the truck she avoided multiple people to not get stuck in conversation.

After turning in her guns Abby made a b-line straight for your apartment. The only thing that really mattered to her right now was to be at her home. In your hallway she hesitated before opening your door. Letting out a tired sigh she walked in.

“And that’s what I’ve been saying, I told Julia that it doesn’t matter if back in her day if—“ you stop mid conversation with Mel to see Abby standing in the doorway.

Mel took note of Abby’s exhausted appearance, patting your shoulder “I’ll see you tomorrow ok” she gave you a soft smile before leaving. Once mel was gone you opened your arms waiting for Abby to walk over.

Abby quickly pulled you into a hug taking a deep breath in just to take in your subtle perfume. “Rough day” You asked leaning back some to take a good look at her worn out face. “Yeah, just.. a lot” she sighed.

You nodded leaning up kissing her gently before stepping down, grabbing her hand and walked her over towards your bed. Abby swore up and down your kisses were the sweetest thing ever— so sweet she would get toothaches.

Setting Her on the bed you silently grabbed your first aid kit to help clean some of the cuts on the girls arms and body. Not once asking her about the people she had killed, or even wondering about the wrong she had done, only wanting to help take care of her. “Shit abs your running a fever” you frowned pulling your hands away from her forehead. “I’m gonna make you some tea ok” kissing her cheek you walked towards portable stove you had recently got preparing a fresh pot of tea.

Abby admired your figure from afar, the long grey military sweat pants that didn’t quite fit you as they were Abby’s, your dark bra and how you had your hair pulled up. She had always liked when you wore your hair naturally down but didn’t mind seeing it pulled back either.

You started to hum a lullaby as you turned the stove on. Slowly moving back and forth Abby almost thought you were nothing more than a dream, like you were a figment of her imagination.

Returning back to the blondes side you helped her out of her clothes— giving her a clean set that you had lying around from earlier times she stayed over.

After a few minutes you placed some of the tea in a mug, handing it to abby you started to stitch up a deep cut in her bicep. It amost made Abby cry how you never worried About what her hands and her body had done, never asking about who or what she had killed, only ever concerned about her no one else

Once she was taken care of you took the now empty cup from her and set it aside. Pulling the covers back you laid down in bed, taking your bra off mainly because you knew Abby liked the skin on skin connection. Waiting for the blonde to strip out of her shirt, you laid down allowing her to fall ontop of you.

You started to undo Abby’s braid as she lightly kissed along your collarbone. Raking your fingers through her hair you started to whisper. “I get it sweet girl.. I get it, it’s ok”

Massaging the girls head you started to tell her about your day. Soft and sweetly showing Abby your love “So I had taught my class about world history today, and we had—“

Abby started to doze off quickly falling asleep. Even if she had died on an assignment No grave could hold her body down she’d still crawl home to you.

#Spotify #lesbian #wlw #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #tlou fluff #abby anderson fluff #the last of us fanfiction

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badomensbaby · 2 months

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middle of the night. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem! reader

summary: you're awaken in the middle of the night by your best friend and roommate, luke, who's having quite a risque dream.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. cursing, degradation, wet dream, slight sir kink, unprotected sex, creampie, friends to lovers without the plot lol.

word count: 3,381

a/n: this only exists bc one of my friends on twt sent me a pic of luke that i can't find for some reason but all it made me think of was roommates x wet dream x well, smut. idk! i hope you enjoy!

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

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"Fuck, just like that."

It's the middle of the night when you begin to stir, a small ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable couch you and your roommate had fallen asleep on some hours ago, your eyes hesitantly and sleepily blinking open.

A soft glow of light from the television hardly illuminates the dark living room, a small yawn escaping your lips. A few incoherent mumbles continue to escape your best friend's lips, a slew of stifled moans and shifting limbs following them.

Peeking over your shoulder, you can barely make out the pale boy's features, his eyelids fluttered shut and lips slightly agape. "So good, Y-"

"Luke?" You nudge his bare arm with your elbow, feeling a warmth spread across your cheeks at the quick realization he's having a far from innocent dream. You try again, with a bit more force, despite the exhaustion coursing through you from the lack of sleep. "Luke."

"Hm?" the blonde suddenly blinks awake, slightly panicked as he sits himself up, eyes hazy and distant. "What's wrong?"

You stifle a giggle at his wild hair and confused expression, his bare chest still heaving slightly from his startled state. "Nothing's wrong," you say, "You woke me up."

"Oh," a pink hue washes over him, swallowing a thick lump forming in his throat, blinking away the images left behind from his stupid little dream about his pretty roommate. "Sorry. Fuck, what time is it?"

"Uh," you crane your neck, narrowing your eyes to catch sight of the small digital clock on the stove not far from you. "Half past three."

"Shit," Luke quietly hisses, shuffling underneath the knitted blanket covering you both, feeling a bit restricted in his jeans. With each blink of his eyes he can't stop picturing the sinful fucking sight he'd been dreaming about. "Sorry for waking you."

"It's fine," You dismiss him with the wave of your hand, backside still pressed against the boy's clothed thigh, thinking nothing of the position. A small smirk however twitches at your lips. "Dreaming about Julia again?" you tease, pushing your lips to the side.

Luke shoots you a glare, clearly unamused by your attempt at a joke, though his heart skips a beat at the simple idea that you knew what type of dream was unfolding behind his eyelids. "No, Julia's annoying."

"I thought you said Rachel was annoying?" your brow quirks, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

"I said Rachel's obnoxious," he clarifies with a simple scoff, slinging his arm over the back of the couch, muscles flexing and catching your attention, "Why do you care anyway?"

Your breath hitches momentarily, affected unfamiliarly by the simple sight. You’ve seen Luke shirtless a million times - hell, you've cuddled on this very couch on more than one occasion. Platonically, of course.

You ignore the blush on your cheeks and the small frustration bubbling in your stomach from his question, "I don't," you shrug, though he isn't convinced, "I'd just rather not be woken up by your stupid wet dreams."

Luke's eyes quickly widen, lips parting in slight shock at the confrontation, though he doesn't utter a single word to defend himself. You just offer a simple soft laugh before getting up from the couch, fetching the two of you a glass of water.

When you return, Luke's jeans impossibly tighten at your attire, your crooked little tank top and sleeping shorts, unknowingly bunched at the tops of your smooth tanned thighs. Fuck.

Never had Luke looked at you, his best friend of nearly ten years in a sexual or romantic way, but the absence of a bra on your upper half and the little patch of exposed skin between the hemline of your tank top and waistline of your shorts has him on the brink of drooling.

"Hello, Earth to Luke," your hand waves in front of the boy's eyes, blinking out of his terrible, terrible thoughts to see you standing at the end of the couch, a glass of water in your palm. "You alright?"

A shaky hand reaches for the glass, nearly spilling the liquid all over his lap as he desperately brings it to his lips, chugging the contents in almost record time. Your brow raises curiously.

"You got that worked up over a dream?" You laugh softly, taking a seat beside him, legs criss-crossed while you sip on your own glass of water, no idea the effect you have on the blonde boy at this moment. "Damn, Luke, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

"Shut up," he exhales loudly, placing the now empty glass on the side table, raking a hand over his face. God, why now? Why in the hell is he having inappropriate dreams about his best fucking friend? "Drop it." Luke shoots you a stern glare, only fueling you further.

A mischievous smile appears on your lips, quickly disappearing as you compose yourself, feigning innocent curiosity. "Let me guess," you start softly, pretending to ponder, "Doggy? No, that wouldn't rile you up," you shake your head quickly, fingers tapping on the side of your glass, "Reverse cowgirl."

"Y/N." he mutters through gritted teeth, white knuckling the arm of the couch, fearful to glance at the brunette. "Stop."

"What?" you giggle quietly, "Oh come on, don't go all innocent on me now," your eyes roll playfully, "Not like I haven't heard it all before."

"I'm serious," Luke grumbles, trying to regulate his breaths but struggles, nearly full fucking mass in his jeans now. Thankfully the knitted blanket bunched in his lap prevents you from realizing how fucking turned on he is. "Cut it out."

Luke chooses the wrong moment to glance at you, just as you’re leaning towards the opposite end of the couch to place your half empty glass on the other side table, giving the blonde a perfect view of your backside. Fucking hell.

"You're no fun," you pout, turning back to him and meeting his darkened eyes, barely visible from the glow of the television. To this, your breath falters, noticing his tense demeanor. "What?"

"Go to bed." he suddenly says, not bothering to break eye contact between you two, watching as your tempting little lips part in genuine confusion. Had you pushed too far? Crossed a line?

"Luke, I was just teasing-"

Luke's eyes narrow at you, almost menacingly, enough to make you choke down your words. "Y/N, if you're not in your bed in the next thirty seconds I'm going to do something we can never come back from."

To the blonde's surprise, you stay put. Not out of fear, or worry that you’ve done something wrong, but because you’re simply curious. Folding your hands in your lap, you remain silent, awaiting the boy's reaction with nervously pursed lips.

His blue eyes flicker to those little fucking shorts, hardly covering you, and stifles a groan. "Come here," he says lowly, tongue tracing the inside of his lip. Hesitantly, you slowly crawl the short distance before sitting beside him on your knees. "God damnit, Y/N."

"What?" you ask, nearly a whisper, unaware of the effect you have on him. "Look, if I went too far I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

"Luke-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N," Luke sighs frustratedly, tearing his eyes from yours, "Do you not get it?"

"Get what?" your fingers anxiously tap on the tops of your thighs, biting the inside of your cheek, filled with worry.

"My dream wasn't about Julia or fucking Rachel," he scoffs, turning to face you again, his adam's apple bobbing slowly, "It was about you."

Your breath hitches. Are you still half asleep? Did Luke really say-

"Me?" you whisper before quickly shaking your head, "Luke, that's not funny, okay? I don't know what game you're playing-"

Your words cease when a warm, calloused hand finds your thigh, gripping the soft skin firmly. "I'm not fucking with you," he tells you, "I don't know where the fuck it came from but those goddamn shorts of yours aren't helping right now."

Swallowing the thick lump of nerves in your throat, the words falling from your lips aren't remotely close to what Luke could have ever predicted. "So do something about it."

"Oh fuck me," a low groan leaves Luke's throat, tossing his head back momentarily, "Don't have to tell me twice."

And suddenly Luke's hand is on the back of your head, pulling you toward him forcefully to claim your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. You instantly melt into him, the taste of popcorn still lingering on his chapped lips from the bowl you’d shared hours ago.

Luke doesn't hesitate to swipe his tongue along your lower lip, pushing your kiss deeper as you brace yourself by grasping at his shoulder, a soft moan escaping your lips, which Luke is eager to swallow.

The blonde's unoccupied hand finds your hip easily, thumb firmly pressing against the bone there, his remaining fingers digging into the fabric of your pathetic excuse for shorts. Your hips instinctively roll at the contact.

Luke's regretfully pulling away, both of you adorning swollen, pink lips and flushed cheeks, even in the low light of the television it was quite obvious. "Fuck, you have no idea-"

"Me too," you cut him off in a whisper, eyes flickering between his and his intoxicating lips. "Luke-"

"Fuck, what've we done?" he mumbles more so to himself, though he doesn't retract his hands and you don’t bother to tell him to. "Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

"Just shut up," you shake your head, free hand grasping at the chain looped around his bare neck and pulling him forward, claiming his lips just as he had done to yours previously. He doesn't protest when you sling a leg over his lap, thighs settled on either side of his, eliciting a deep groan from his throat.

When your lips part, his eyes hesitantly flicker between yours and your new position, your hips flush against his own. "Are you- are you sure?"

You shyly nod. A groan of disapproval leaves Luke's lips, his grip tightening on the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair, pulling you closer to him as if your chests hadn't been brushing the entire time. "Yeah, silence doesn't work for me, Y/N."

"Yes," you breathe out, clenching your thighs desperately, "Yes, I'm so fucking sure, Luke. Please-"

"Fuck," he grits out, hips bucking against your center, "So fuckin' needy for me, aren't you?" When your eyes widen at his crass words, Luke's lips twitch into a sly, crooked smirk, filled to the brim with satisfaction. He tugs the strands between his fingers again. "Aren't you?"

"Yes- fuck."

The hand not grasping your hair retreats to your upper thigh, thumb resting in the crease there, fingernails digging into your soft skin and forcing his clothed length against your sensitive center. "Feel that, sweetheart?" Luke's tone lowers, fighting the urge to moan at the feeling alone, as he breaths low and slow against your lips, taunting you, "I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

"Please," you helplessly whimper in response, eyelids tempting to flutter shut at the simple feeling, Luke's cock twitching in the confinement of his jeans at your sinful little plea. Never in his life had he imagined a scenario with you like this becoming a reality.

Luke quickly taps your thigh so you’ll raise yourself, allowing him to kick off the thin knitted blanket on his lap, exposing the outline of his achingly hard length in his fitted jeans, the blonde's jaw tensed so hard his teeth begin to ache. He can't fucking begin to imagine how good you’re going to feel wrapped around him.

His ringed fingers fumble with the button and fly of his dark jeans, too fucking anxious to finally set his cock free. He leaves them pooled around his knees carelessly, his fitted black boxers following suit. A soft hiss leaves Luke's lips at the release. You, however, are at a loss for words.

Sure, your mutual friends have always joked about Luke's dick- but never did you fucking imagine there being a lick of truth to their absurd statements.

"You-" you breathlessly choke out, unable to look away from his length, eyes widened and suddenly feeling a stir in your stomach. "There's no fucking way, Luke-"

"What, am I too big for you?" Luke teases in a low tone, a sickening little smirk on his lips, head cocked to the side. "You don't think you can handle it?"

As you’re shaking your head and finally tearing your eyes away, you meet his gaze, hesitant. "I- I don't know-"

He lets out a low, sinister chuckle before his hands are on your hips again, pulling your clothed center flush with his exposed length, ghosting his lips against yours. "Too fuckin' bad, sweetheart, you're gonna take it and I don't wanna hear a single fucking complaint."

A low, drawn out whimper escapes your poor lips, swallowing your nerves while Luke continues to jut his hips. "Yes, sir." the words fall from your mouth before you can even process them.

"Ah, what a good girl, hm?" the boy hums against your lips, "Gonna fuck you so good, Y/N, I promise."

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, sir."

"Goddamn," he pulls away slightly, so fucking hard he's nearly on the brink of orgasm from the simple word alone, ringed fingers retracting from your hip to the thin, stretchy material of your shorts, sliding between your thigh and the fabric until his forefinger finds the dampened material of your underwear. "You want me that fucking bad? Hm? Had to go and get this fucking wet for me?"

"Luke-"

"Fucking pathetic," he scoffs, sending a shock straight to your spine as he slowly teases his finger against you, pressing firmly against your clit like some fucking expert. "Can't wait to watch you sink down on my cock."

You’re already a fucking mess and he's barely touched you, fingers grasping at the thin underwear and sliding them to the side, Luke's free hand preparing himself and pressing his tip against you. "So fuckin' wet, don't need nothin' else."

You suck in a deep, loud breath as Luke begins to push inside, giving you no mercy as his hands find your hips yet again and force you down his entire length, your hands grasping desperately onto his broad shoulders. "Fuck-" you croak out, eyes pinching shut at the sudden stretch. "Oh my-"

"S'okay baby," he coos softly, thumbs pressing firmly onto your hips, no doubt leaving bruises there you'll find in the morning. Well, later in the morning, that is. "M'gonna take good care of you."

Your fingernails absentmindedly dig into his pale, freckled skin, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes. You’d never felt so- so full.

"Please, Luke-" your throat suddenly runs dry, eyes flying open as he uses the grip on your hips to pull your body upwards, forcing your back down onto his length roughly. "Fuck-"

"Quiet," he interjects curtly, "Want you to take my fucking cock the way I give it to you. Cry all you want, sweet girl."

The pain of the stretch doesn't last long, thankfully, though each rough thrust of Luke's hips has your vision blurring, the sound of his thighs smacking against the back of yours bouncing off the walls of your quiet shared apartment.

You adjust to the blonde's deep, rough rhythm, the fabric of your flimsy little tank top settling just below your breasts, catching Luke's eye. Managing to continue his pace, his teeth capturing the metallic black lip ring tucked in the corner of his mouth, one of his hands slides the fabric further until they're both exposed to him.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts softly, wetting his bottom lip due to the tempting fucking sight of you sinking down on his cock like the good fucking girl you are. He cups one of them, a whimper leaving your mouth amidst mumbled curses. "You feel so fucking good on my cock."

"Luke-"

"Say it, Y/N. Fucking say it."

"Sir, please-"

"Fuck," he grits his teeth for the millionth time, the word never growing old as it reaches his ears, before he's suddenly halting, pressing his hips firmly against you until you’re nearly out of breath. So goddamn deep.

It takes less than a second before he's pushing you onto your back, still connected and instead of grasping your hips his hands find your knees, pressing your thighs flush against your chest.

Luke sucks in a quick breath, standing on his knees as his jeans are still pooled around them, restricting him slightly but he simply doesn't give a fuck right now. Slowly retracting his cock, he keeps his eyes on your pretty little lips as he pushes his hips forward suddenly, hitting an entirely new spot and causing a borderline scream to leave your mouth.

"Fuck-" you gasps, lips parting and resting a hand on your bare breast to ground yourself, thighs already shuddering from one fucking thrust. This only heightens the blonde's satisfaction, ignoring the small beads of sweat that begin to accumulate on his forehead. "Oh my fucking god-"

"Fuckin' told you," Luke grunts, a white knuckle grip on your knees, preventing any pushback you attempted to give as your thighs shake beneath his hold, "Told you I'd fuckin' ruin you, didn't I?"

"Y-yes-"

"That feel good, sweetheart?" he rasps, throat nearly raw from the groans and moans he continues to stifle, "Feelin' me so goddamn deep inside of you?"

"Luke, please- so- so deep-"

"Yeah, baby," instead of gripping both of your knees, Luke decides to rest his forearm against them to keep you in place, snaking his free hand between your thighs, attaching his thumb to your sensitive clit, a desperate little whimper leaving you. "You're doin' such a good job, takin' me so well."

You instinctively clench around him, causing a hiss to leave his lips, eyelids falling shut at the overstimulation. "I'm- oh fuck-"

"That's it," he responds lowly, not slowing down his harsh, deep thrusts, rendering you nearly breathless. "Come on, fuckin' cum all over my cock."

"Sir- I-"

"Fuck," Luke grunts, continuing his quick firm movements against your swollen, sensitive clit, as you clench harder and harder around his cock. "Good fucking God, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

"Please, please cum with me-" you ramble helplessly, eyes flying open and meeting Luke's darkened blues, his breaths growing ragged and chest so fucking tight from the sight of desperation on your face. "Please."

Luke's thrusts grow sloppily, orgasm building quickly in his stomach, lower lip tucked between his teeth. One last particularly deep thrust, hitting that goddamn special little spot has you gasping for breath. Feeling your release coat his length, he finally lets go, hips stuttering to a slow pace, eventually stopping all together.

Both of you adorn heaving chests as the sound of your breaths echo the living room, both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Y/N-"

"Holy shit, Hemmings," You manage to choke out, every goddamn inch of your body now sore, choking back a whimper as the blonde slowly slips out of you. "I didn't- fuck."

"Didn't what?" Luke asks, just as breathless, knees reddened from the friction against the sofa, tugging his boxers up his thighs and tucking himself inside of them. "Are you okay?"

"There's no goddamn way we can ever be friends," You slowly slink your knees down, feet flat on the couch's cushion. Luke's lips pull into a frown at your words, about to interject before a little laugh escapes you. "Not if you fuck like that."

Luke playfully smacks your thigh, "You fuckin' scared me, Y/N, don't do that," he leans forward to hover over you, eyeing the snide little grin on your pretty lips. "Come on, if you shower with me I'll reward you for bein' so good."

Your dazed blue eyes blink slowly, watching Luke smile admiringly down at you. You both know there's no coming back from this, no way you’ll ever be just friends again.

And you don't mind one bit.

"The only way I'm showering with you is if you carry me, I'm fucking wrecked."

"I think that can be arranged."

#luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings smut #5sos smut #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos x reader #smut

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heesdreamer · 10 days

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IN MY ROOM

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

WARNINGS ➩ none really, unresolved angst and one sided heartbreak

WC ➩ 2.6k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Normally I don’t write small drabbles but obsessed with this song and wanted to do something for it. No full fic for this or part 2 sorry it’s supposed to hurt! I highly suggest listening while listening or beforehand since it’s fully inspired by the lyrics and vibe

I like when it's dark out, October will cure me

I'm walking these woods, am I thirty or thirteen?

The size of your heart seemed to grow and shrink with the seasons, always fluttering and aching depending on the shade of the trees and sometimes it felt like it got quiet all together.

You figured out a long time ago that the actual shape of it and your anatomy wasn’t changing and instead you were just an over emotional person (if there was such a thing). Your mother blamed it on your father being a writer, saying you inherited his soul and his passion for pouring all of his love into every little thing with the hopes something worth putting to paper would appear in return.

You didn’t write like he did but you did often find yourself overthinking the journey of tree roots and being curious about how building a proper nest weighed on a birds confidence.

It was a lot easier to fall inlove with everything than to tune the world out and that didn’t fall short of affecting the way you interacted with the people around you.

The way you loved your friends wasn’t always romantic but you had a deep connection to all of them and a mental list of all their habits and cute quirks like the way Wonyoung covered her mouth when she laughed hard and the raise of Riki’s eyebrow whenever he was curious about something.

You loved Heeseung in a different way.

Your heart was heavy as you walked through the tree covered trail that led to your house, knowing once you started thinking of him it was nearly impossible to stop.

In your defense, he seemed to have that affect on a lot of people.

There was just something undeniably charged about Heeseung and the way he interacted with the world around him. He was ever confident in a natural way that didn’t have a hint of arrogance and his gentle nature struck you hard the first time you met him when you were 13 and he had just turned 14.

You became close friends after getting partnered for a school project and your heart was soaring when he kept talking to you even after you’d turned in the essay and gotten a low B.

He was bestfriends with basically everybody he interacted with but you couldn’t help feeling special when you kept getting closer and closer and your friendship started to actually hold some weight instead of just having surface level conversations in between class lectures.

The cold fall chill ripped through your sweater right as your mood started to sour and you shook your head free from the thoughts of him or at least as free as you could.

Not asking for much, man, thought maybe you'd call me

I slit my own throat just to see if you'd mourn me

“He really hasn’t said a single thing to you? Like not even something random and completely unrelated to his absolute betrayal?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed at the dramatic exaggeration of Wonyoung’s statement but she was right to be upset on your behalf considering you had a hard time being mad at him yourself.

Your sigh continued as you rolled onto your back and tugged the phones chord as tight as possible so it reached further on your bed, nearly coming off the wall with how hard you were stretching the old elastic.

“He’s waved at me in the halls but I can’t talk to him.” Your voice was muffled just from how much you didn’t want to admit the extent of which this bothered you.

You weren’t at all exaggerating, you really couldn’t bring yourself to talk to Heeseung ever since he had casually announced on his MySpace that he was now in a relationship with one of your more casual mutual friends. He hadn’t told you beforehand that he even had feelings for her and you felt completely ridiculous for thinking he held you as close to his heart as you did for him.

Even your friend group had been thrown off by the news considering everybody followed the silent understanding that you and him were more than friends.

You’d rolled your eyes the few times they’d brought it up, both in light teasing or genuinely trying to pry and get you to answer their burning questions about your relationship.

You never fulfilled their curiosity for a multitude of reasons but mainly because you had no idea what you and Heeseung were exactly. You liked him more than you’d ever liked somebody in your life and your face turned red whenever you saw him smile or felt his hand brushing against yours under the lunch table but he’d never said anything to you about it.

His feelings might’ve seemed obvious to somebody who didn’t know him, figuring you were dating the second he wrapped his arm around you or ordered your food without checking what you wanted since he already had your preferences memorized.

But that was just who Heeseung was and you were no stranger to that.

He was overly caring and involved with everyone he met and he could make somebody he’d met seconds ago seem like they were best buddies from kindergarten. He definitely had a sweet spot for you but there was no real evidence that it extended past platonic admiration.

You were overwhelmingly glad now you’d never been stupid enough to tell your friends you were together before confirming it considering his abrupt new relationship that completely shattered your view on what you’d been to him.

Clearly you’d misread the signals the entire time and the two of you were just friends but the more you thought about it, the more angry you got. Not at Heeseung because your heart strictly forbid you for ever thinking negatively about the boy but just at the entire situation and the lack of understanding from both sides.

It wasn’t friendly when he stared into your eyes with the waves crashing behind you and your friends laughing somewhere in the distance. Not at all platonic when he was taking your hand in his at the school dance and ignoring the dozens of eyes staring at him, waiting for a turn.

They never got it because he spent the entire night spinning you in his arms and complimenting your dress and hair.

You weren’t confused when he laid in your bed after his parents threw a fit about his new piercing, his head on your stomach and his voice a whisper when he told you that you were the only person who understood him.

“You’re my person and I’ve never felt like that with anybody before so it freaks me out sometimes.” His eyes didn’t stray from the blank spot on your ceiling and yours stayed locked on the bruise forming around the new piece of middle inside his eyebrow. “I couldn’t think of anybody else I wanted to run to.”

“Is that a bad thing? Wanting to come to me?” Your fingers smoothed over the piercing and he winced a little because of how fresh it was but you didn’t move your touch away, just lessening the pressure you were applying.

“It’s only bad because how much it consumes me sometimes.”

You didn’t ask him to explain what he had meant that day because you figured you knew but apparently you were somehow wrong.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N, are you still there?” Your friends voice over the line was bringing you back to reality and you assured her you hadn’t left before asking her to repeat whatever it is she had said. “I said that he was totally wrong to do that to you, we all think so.”

For some reason the thought of your friends seeing the same thing as you didn’t make you feel any better.

It actually made you want to curl into a ball ten times worse because you couldn’t blame it on your rose colored glasses if the closest people to you also felt like something was blossoming between the two of you. Your confusion in his abrupt relationship only made you feel sicker and sicker.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

I stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind

Two weeks had passed since Heeseung posted the photo of him and Aubrey with his relationship status being changed right afterwards, glaring harshly at you on your home computers wavering screen.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you studied his expression underneath the grainy edgy filter he applied to it, eyes tracing the squint of his eyes as he smiled brightly and her lips pressed against his cheeks.

He looked happy and that somehow made you feel even sicker.

You wondered if he hadn’t told you about it because he feared your reaction or if he possibly couldn’t bring himself to silently end whatever it was that you felt towards each other. It hurt more than it might’ve a few years ago because you’d finally begun to feel like the two of you were on the same page, managing to be mutually single and interested at the same moment for the first time in all your years of pining.

A dozen near misses were finally leading to something big and concrete.

Or at least you thought so until you logged onto your MySpace account and saw his post, the same one you were glaring at now.

You hadn’t posted anything since you cut off communication with him but you couldn’t help yourself from checking your page and scrolling down it, curious if he’d be concerned over your silence if he ever went to see what you’d been doing with his absence. Maybe he hoped you’d be posting sad song lyrics or actively breaking down on his feed but instead you’d gone completely cold.

It was the only option in your mind considering you never were able to be normal when it came to Heeseung.

The sight of his hoodie on your bed or his left over guitar picks and crumbled up pieces of paper with random doodles scattered around your room was enough to bring you to tears and settle a sick feeling in your gut so you couldn’t imagine trying to sit and type out a post that would read as normal. Perfectly fine and not obsessing over who your friend was dating.

You told yourself that you were mainly caught up on the specifics of it because he hadn’t bothered to tell you about it.

It was worse to find out from a simple post over him sitting you down and letting you know but instead your entire world crumpled with every comment and heart from people who didn’t know him outside of passing him in the halls.

They didn’t know him during those late nights and they didn’t know the way his heart beat harder whenever you brushed your fingers through his hair or met his eyes in a crowded room. The faceless usernames had no idea there was somebody out there absolutely shattering at this simple ‘in a relationship’ post.

You groaned into your hands and shut the computer down without bothering to close his blogs tab, knowing you’d be opening it first thing tomorrow regardless.

You look so cool getting high

No handlebars, you wanna fly

You look so cool, I wanna die

Is it too soon to say what on my mind?

“Hope you brought some bandaids.” His voice was wobbly as he circled around you and you laughed softly at his clear fearfulness, the sound muffled by the straw of your slushy that was clutched between your knees.

“For when you inevitably eat shit?”

He laughed at your bluntness and the action almost caused him to do exactly that, the bike wheel rapidly twisted on the rugged gravel and nearly sending him straight into the rocky parking lot he was currently riding handless around.

One of his hands was occupied with his own extra large slushy from the gas station near you and the other was holding a small joint that was nearly smoked out of existence. You had hated when Heeseung started to smoke and you spent the last few years complaining about the smell of his clothes and scolding you when he left the scent on your pillows.

You’d never tell him that you slowly got used to it, almost liking it as it blended easily with his signature cologne and his naturally aroma that you found yourself leaning into whenever you had a few feet between you.

He rarely smoked infront of you once he realized you genuinely didn’t like it and you were just nagging at him but today was the exception.

Heeseung had turned eighteen today and while your friends had begged and begged him to either throw a party or let them do it in his honor, he had strongly declined. You had been confused considering he was shy to partying and it would definitely be one of the bigger events of the year with how many people would love to gather and get drunk in the honor of Heeseung.

Your confusion was lost when he wrapped himself around your back, arms circling your middle and casually telling your friends he’d rather spend the night hanging out with you like it didn’t completely uproot your existence whenever he said things like that.

You didn’t even doubt the honesty of his answer, genuinely knowing he had more fun in this dirty parking lot with cheap slushees and your company than he would’ve at a huge rager.

“What do I get if I don’t fall?” He was smiling at you as he rounded back into your point of view but he was behind you again before he could see the way your own lips turned up. “Doesn’t that call for a prize?”

“A prize? What would you want?” You watched his eyebrows raised like he was in deep thought and you laughed at the absurdity of him disappearing back behind you as he continued to ride his bikes in circles around you. You didn’t like riding bikes as much as he did but last summer he’d painted a pair of pegs pink for you, sticking them to his otherwise blacked out frame and smiling proudly.

It was something you’d rolled your eyes at and you’d given him a quick thankful kiss on the cheek but you secretly loved standing behind him as he rode you around, hands on his shoulders and the wind blowing through your hair.

You especially loved how happy he was to show you that he’d done it, something that would make you more comfortable when you rode together.

He was humming like he was deep in thought and you waited patiently with your chin resting in your hand, smile bright on your face at his theatrical responses.

“If I don’t fall…. you let me stay at your place tonight.”

Your heart was already starting to beat out of your chest at the soft request and the way his voice got lower like he was waiting for you to reject him. Both of your reactions were ridiculous considering he’d spent the night at your house dozens of times and was over more than he went home but he always asked beforehand.

Something you liked because then it always gave you the opportunity to tell him that he was welcomed.

“I figured that was the plan anyways.” You took a large drink of your slushy after letting the words fall out more casual than you felt and he pressed on the brakes when he was in front of you this time, a wide smile still on his face and genuine easiness radiating off of him.

“You sure know how to make a birthday special.” He was so beautiful when he said that and the way he looked at you made you feel like he genuinely meant what he was saying even if he was just making a joke about your rather simple nature.

Telling him you love him was heavy on your mind and even heavier on your tongue and it took almost everything inside of you not to just blurt it out and accept the brute force of whatever his reaction might be without any preparation. You wanted him to know that his birthday was special, you needed him to know that you loved him and that you wanted to spend every year like this no matter how old you got.

Instead you took another sip of your slushy and let him ride around you until his tire gave out and he was landing on the gravel with a laugh that inspired your own.

You hadn’t know then that you were currently experiencing his birthday with the two of you for the last time and you wondered now if you would have told him back then if you had known. Would it have made a difference or was he always fated to leave?

Did your love story really end with a simple post from his end and the smell of smoke ever fading from the smooth fabric of your pillow cases or was this all some large twisted joke from the universe, one last test of your affection towards each other before you finally stopped nearly missing.

You tried your best to stop thinking about it and him and all the little things he’d left in your room.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung x reader #heeseung au #enhypen au #heeseung fic #lee heeseung #Spotify

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muertawrites · 2 years

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Same!!! I always have this thought in my head of Wayne telling eddy’s girlfriend or Dustin or just a friend “His mothers dead. And his father is in prison for putting her in the ground.”

!!!!!!!!!!!! that dialogue!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tell the duffers they're out of a job and all it took was a fuckin sentence

i can just imagine like. eddie doesn't talk about his family or his past. just wayne. just his life after ten years old or so.

you don't ask about it. the one time you did he got uncharacteristically quiet. his face totally fell and he got really pale. like all the life just completely drained from him.

"i don't like talking about it," was all he said.

so you avoid the subject.

then one day you're chillin at the house (wayne was able to upgrade after the earthquake) when you find a family picture. they're rare, since what few photos wayne had were mostly lost when the upside down became the right side up, but you can tell this one was salvaged. it's of a younger wayne and a dark-haired woman, sitting at a table. in her arms is an infant with a stark patch of black curls.

"that's julia."

wayne startles you, the way he can always move around so quietly. he walks up next to you and lifts the photo from its place on the bookshelf, holding it so you can get a better look.

"eddie's mom."

"... what happened to her?"

wayne takes you into the kitchen and makes the two of you some coffee. he sets with the photo between the two of you on the table, silent for a while as he finds the words.

"julie was a good woman," he tells you. "had a kind heart. too kind. fell in with my bastard brother thinkin' she could fix him. all he did was beat her blind. when eddie was ten, she was gonna leave. move 'em to chicago. rob found out and wouldn't have none of it. beat her so bad she was unrecognizable. neighbors called the cops, rob was arrested, and julia died in the hospital. i thank god every day that eddie was asleep and didn't have to see none of it."

you notice that wayne's hand is shaking, so you take it to steady him. he grips you so hard your circulation threatens to stop.

"i loved julia like a sister. and she loved her little boy. he's the reason that sick son of a bitch will rot in prison for the rest of his life. went and testified in front of a whole courtroom about the abuse his father did to him. was only eleven."

both of you are weeping at this point. unbeknownst to you, eddie lingers in the hall, listening to his uncle's retelling and biting back his own tears.

"he grew up into a good man. got his mother's soul. handsome as the devil like his father without the evil behind his eyes. smart as a whip, too."

eddie clears his throat. you whirl around, swallowing thickly when you meet his eye. he smiles, the expression half-formed and broken at the edges, and joins you at the table.

"it's okay," he whispers. his voice is choked. "i'm okay."

a few weeks later he takes you to her grave. you bring flowers, and he introduces you to her as if she can actually hear him. maybe she can. the spot is so peaceful, you can almost imagine her sitting there with you, kissing your cheeks and welcoming you into her little corner of bliss.

you and eddie visit julia every year on her birthday after that. you pack a picnic, and eddie brings his guitar and you a book, and you spend the day there. he shares memories of her - how she taught him to sew, how she had the most beautiful singing voice, how her pancakes are still the best he's ever had.

it isn't too many years until you're holding a dark-haired infant of your own, propping her up in your lap as you settle into the blanket for another annual picnic. the little girl giggles as she reaches for her father, tugging locks of his mane and grasping at the guitar pick dangling from his neck (he chuckles when she puts it in her mouth).

you lean in close to the headstone and whisper, so only you and the universe can hear:

"her name is julia."

#brb just gonna crush my own soul #eddie munson #eddie asks #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson backstory #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine

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odoraful · 23 days

Text

Somnium pt2

zayne finally meets with you again in his dreams, though he is unprepared to face the harsh truth

read part 1 🙇‍♀️ content: dawnbreaker!zayne x reader; a direct continuation from zayne’s anecdote 'still in dark' (spoiler warning); 2.2k words; angst :( reading bgm ♫ It is The Nature of Dreams to End (Julia)

It took a few seconds for Zayne’s brain to register that he should reply to you.

Stop staring with your mouth agape. Say something.

The words were lodged in his throat.

You fidgeted with your hair, eyes turned downwards. “Excuse my manners. I should stop addressing you incorrectly and ask for your name.”

Zayne cringed internally. A great start — he now gave the impression that he was deliberately ignoring you for your supposed impoliteness.

“No, please, it's alright.” The sentence tumbled out of him. “My name is Zayne.” His arms remained glued at his sides.

“It's the same as his… everything is the same,” you murmured, shaking your head in disbelief. Your brow was in a deep furrow, as if you someone had given you some incalculable equation to solve. He could tell that a million questions were flooding your thoughts right now.

“If it’s any consolation,” he tried his best to give a reassuring smile, but he felt his lips tremble as he lifted the corners of his mouth, “I also have questions about how we’ve come to meet.”

You raised your head, finally meeting his gaze. In all his dreams with you, he'd never seen such worry on your face. He felt a crushing urge to take you in his arms, smooth a hand over your hair, whisper in your ear that he was here for you, that he was here to protect you. Instead, he squeezed his fists tight.

“Then, should we go somewhere more comfortable and have a talk?” You offered, turning around to face the pavilion suspended on the river. You lifted a hand to shade your eyes. “The sun is too bright to be standing outside.”

Zayne nodded. It would be too embarrassing for him to say that the golden sunlight targeting you was likely a product of his own subconscious. Moving to your side, the two of you headed towards the bridge leading to the pavilion. As he walked, Zayne relaxed his fists, feeling the sting in his palm from his own digging fingernails.

Your eyes went wide with alarm. “Humans that slowly transform into wanderers? That’s horrifying.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, goosebumps forming on your skin.

Sitting now on the bench that lined the inside of the pavilion, the two of you conversed about your respective worlds. With embarrassment, he mentioned how he dreamt about you since he was 12. You laughed at how shy he was getting, as he turned his head away from yours, not wanting you to see the break in his coolness. When you spoke, he acted as a dutiful listener, despite having already extensively researched the fabled Linkon City. It felt surreal to hear your experience first hand. It made him feel less crazy to hear everything he learned was true.

“And are there hunters to help control this? To keep everyone safe?” You asked.

Zayne inhaled a long breath. He looked out past your shoulder at the shimmering river. He turned solemn, his eyes unfocused.

“I don’t know of anybody in my world who has an evol, as you’ve called it, besides me.”

He felt no pride in owning this power. It was a burden he shouldered since he was a child. Yet, he understood the gravity of the responsibility forced upon him. If he abandoned this role, what would become of his world? The cards he were dealt gave him a singular purpose in life.

That was until you entered his life.

You remained silent, digesting the information he had given and what it implied. Zayne felt acutely aware of every one of his senses. The rhythm of his breaths, the weight of his hands clasped in his lap, the stiffness in his posture.

“You save people’s lives.” His eyes shifting back to you, Zayne unexpectedly saw a wistful look on your face. “It reminds me a lot of my Zayne.”

This should have been the part where you condemned him, like everyone else in his world. Called him a monster, a killer, nothing but a story to scare children into behaving well. If he wasn’t mistaken, the faint smile on your face was one of admiration. Never had he seen himself as heroic. Those few words you spoke made him crumple. He placed his head in his hands. Not only that, you said it reminded you of your Zayne.

He heard the rustle of your dress beside him as you sat closer to him. Your legs almost flush against his. If he leaned barely a millimetre to his right, your arms would touch.

“I want to know,” he started, finding his voice again. “In the past, you never realised I was someone else. What changed in that last dream?”

Humming in thought, you tapped a finger on your chin. “I’m not too sure about it myself.” You began to chuckle sheepishly. “I do have a working theory, but I would need to…” Your sentence trailed off. Zayne stared at you, confused. You seemed to shrink under his gaze.

“Is it alright if I…” Biting your lip, you fidgeted with your fingers. “Touch you?”

What kind of theory is this? Zayne could never guess your next move. Freely speaking your mind, acting on your first instinct, these were traits so foreign to him. Your unpredictability was something he loved and feared.

“Of- of course,” he blurted out, less composed than he would’ve liked to show. He prayed his cheeks didn’t betray him by turning bright pink. Turning his body towards you, he rested his hands on his thighs, waiting for what you would do.

You reached a hand and gently cupped his cheek.

Unable to contain his reaction, Zayne let out a shuddering breath at the contact as he leaned in. The casual affection that was so natural for you to show completely overwhelmed him. As you leaned in, your eyes slowly examined him, moving up and down his face. All Zayne could do was yield under your attention. Despite no words being exchanged, he felt more vulnerable to you than ever before.

He grasped your hand, holding it against his face. You felt so real. How could his mind conjure something so tangible? The shape of your knuckles, the creases on your fingers, all of it was warm and alive under his cool touch. He was certain that if he touched the underside of your wrist, he would feel your steady pulse.

“Zayne.” Your voice was a hesitant whisper. “You’re hurting me…”

Caught up in exhilaration, Zayne didn’t notice how tight his grip had become. Your fingers were being crushed together by his. He immediately released his hold, cursing inwardly at himself. What was he thinking? Your Zayne wouldn’t have done that. He wouldn’t have been so aggressive, so overly emotional.

“I remember now.” Feeling your breath graze his skin as you spoke, he fought off the urge to shiver. “I started to notice that there was something about your gaze…” Your eyes softened with sympathy. “There’s no warmth to it.”

Your hand trailed down his cheek to his neck. “And when I touch you.” Tingles followed wherever your fingers went. “You tense up everytime.” Emphasising your point, your hand rested on his shoulder, forcing him to relax his muscles. “Almost like you’re scared of me, somehow.”

No, this wasn’t how it was meant to go. He had expected you to say something trivial — his appearance was slightly off, or he had just forgotten to say or do something that was an obvious tell. These were easy fixes for him.

Zayne screwed his eyes shut, defenceless against your pity.

After all these dreams living in snippets as this doctor, this perfect version of himself, he still couldn’t get it right. No matter how well he could copy, from watching all those medical show episodes or tasting as many desserts as his barren world could offer, there were fundamental things about himself he couldn’t change.

“I-I don’t understand.” He said, strained. He felt like a child again, terrified of making the wrong move. “I thought I did everything right.”

“You did!” You exclaimed. Bringing your other hand to his other shoulder, you gently squeezed them. “You treat me so kindly whenever we met, but my Zayne is the one back in my world, in Linkon.”

Your hands withdrew from his shoulders. “And in any case, this-” You gestured around, “- is just a dream. I might not even remember this exact conversation when I wake up. I don’t think I’m even real in this-”

“Don’t say that.” He snapped.

His voice seemed to reverberate around the garden. The severity of his tone silenced you instantly.

Sitting still was too restricting for him now. He ran a hand through his hair, needing to move around. He stood up, nausea swirling at the pit of his stomach. Rubbing his eyes with the edges of his hands, he saw stars in the vision.

To hell with composure.

“I’ve known you for so, so long.” It was difficult to speak when every word constricted his throat. “Do not tell me that you’re not real because then everything I’ve worked towards would be for nothing.”

You cocked your head, confused. “Everything you’ve worked towards?”

Sparing himself the shame, he stayed quiet. He wouldn’t tell you how he spent his entire life in a fruitless endeavour to become the person you loved. It was a shattering realisation he arrived at. He was nothing but an imposter, a poor imitation. He could never be your Zayne. Desperation bubbled rapidly within him. The pressure reached a tipping point.

“You told me before that you’d always stay by my side" His tone wavered, struggling to keep stable between his quickened breaths. "Don’t leave me, please.” He pleaded, face contorting with agony. This loss would be more painful than any Abomination strike to his heart.

Your eyes were downcast, shoulders slumped. “Of course I can meet with you again, but I don’t think I can stay with you forever.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I’m so, so sorry, Zayne. It- it just doesn’t feel right for some reason.”

The floor of the pavilion swayed under his feet. The tranquillity of the garden felt more like a mockery now than a solace. Why did you have to see through him? Could he have prevented this from happening? Seized by his own racing thoughts, he didn’t even detect you moving towards him. You encircled his waist with your arms and he crumpled into the hug instinctually. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Nobody would be there to comfort him when he woke up. He’d share his misery with only the birds that nested at his window in the mornings. So, he savoured the feeling of your hand rubbing his back soothingly, letting your warmth consume him.

”Perhaps there’s an equivalent version of me in your world.” He could just hear your voice over the thumping heartbeat in his ears. “If there’s me and my Zayne in Linkon, then shouldn’t there also be someone for you?”

A version of you? He couldn’t begin to process what you were saying. No one could replace you, it was a ridiculous suggestion. How easily you would brush him aside like this.

He dared to look at your face once more. There was no contempt in your expression like he thought there would be. There was genuine care in your eyes. Of course, you were always the hopeful one.

“It’s not too late for you to find out who you truly are, Zayne.”

That was the last thing he heard before he was abruptly pulled from you.

Dreams seldom have satisfying endings to them — bouncing from one scene to the next, blurring beginning, middle, end, and finishing far too soon. And so, like the snapping of thread, he was flung back into the waking world.

When Zayne awoke from previous dreams, he’d always feel at peace. However, this time he jolted awake, gasping for air. Taking in deep breaths to steady himself, he saw the blankets had been kicked aside onto the floor. Sweat slicked the back of his shirt and beaded down the side of his head.

Zayne sat up against the bed head, letting his head roll to the side to gaze out the window. The sun was just beginning to rise, the landscape outside diffused by pale blue light. A bird flew up to the sill, hopping curiously on the ledge. It then settled down, legs disappearing into its feathery body.

He opened the drawer of his bedside table and wearily reached for his journal and pen. With a heavy heart, he scrawled down everything he could recall about the dream. Where he was, what you wore, what you said. The occasional lilting chirp from the bird cut through his pondering.

“Another version of me.”

Could there be someone like you in his world? Someone who would want to spend time with him? He’d never thought to talk to anyone else, he only ever needed you.

He finished his final sentence, the writing almost unintelligible.

“Who you truly are.”

When he wasn’t chasing down the person in his head, when he wasn’t trying to be someone else, who was he, truly?

a/n: thank you for reaching the end xx 🥹 you've hit the surprise author note! i'm putting it here this time cuz i didn't want to detract from the main story with all my yapping at the start! i thought the bgm had a title fitting for my interpretation of dawnbreaker zayne's arc, and it does have the appropriate melancholic vibe to it :') this was my first time writing something longer and angst-ier, so apologies if it reads awkwardly D: i will continue honing my writing! i wish you a lovely day or night <3

#it did hurt a little to write this because i wish only for zayne's happiness in every timeline :'(#but i thought it would be interesting to imagine a different kind of continuation for dawnbreaker zayne!#✏️〰odorawrites #love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #zayne #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #dawnbreaker

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urtrickster · 7 months

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this is a temporary icon until i can do a screenshot run of man of medan but just know i am making my julia lover status known.

#the thoughts.#I LOVE HER UR HONOR #my older sister got her killed three times in our first run together #and i fucking Sobbed #vanny can attest to this #i let out the most mournful NOOO at the top of my lungs at like 2am when she got shot in the head #guys it was supposed to be a joke really #i was like 'haha im sooo attached to julia if u get her killed i will cry'#as like a haha funny #and then she did get her killed #and i did cry #and thus i realized. im attached. really.#man of medan #julia man of medan #dark pictures man of medan #dark pictures anthology

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vsenyatargaryen · 1 year

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Duty Bound

Aemond Targaryen x Female Targaryen Reader

Summary; No matter how many suitors your father puts before you, it never stops you craving Aemond.

Warnings; incestuous relationship, teasing, smut, arranged marriage, swearing, angst, manipulation, jealousy, thoughts of murder (Targaryen!reader is a little dark minded) 🎶Alexa play Issues by Julia Michaels 🎶

Aemond had been watching you all night. Every movement you made, every word you spoke - he observed you from across the room. Under the intensity of his stare, you found it hard to concentrate on anything else, on anyone else. Whatever it was the Lord next to you was speaking about, you weren’t paying enough attention to care. He was a potential suitor your father, King Viserys, had arranged a visit from - much to your distaste.

You wanted nothing more than to excuse yourself from this dull dinner with your family and these visitors, and go back to your rooms, preferably with Aemond. You’d give anything to have his mouth on your cunt again, his long, slender fingers fucking you open as you grip onto the sheets, both cursing and praising his name in your mother tongue.

With a sigh, you finished the remnants of your chalice, praying the wine would calm your thoughts, and this arousal rising through you.

Aemond’s lips curved up into a smirk, as if he could read your mind.

Fuck him.

The rest of the night passed by painfully slowly. By the time your father and Queen Alicent left and the feast ended, you were drained from playing all the false pretence next to that Lord, but it didn’t take long for a renewed energy to flow through you once you got back to your chambers.

After a quick bath, you changed into your silken robe and headed to the secret passage that led to a corridor outside Aemond’s rooms. You had sworn your ladies-in-waiting to secrecy, and they knew better than to betray a Targaryen. You never really knew if they were more afraid of you, or Aemond.

Your half brother was sitting at his desk when you sneaked through the door, a book in his hand as the light from the fireplace gently crackled beside him. He didn’t even look up as you walked towards him, letting your robe fall to the floor to reveal your naked body.

“What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?” Aemond spoke as he turned the page, his tongue darting out between his lips.

“You were watching me all night. Or perhaps it was the Lord who captured your attention. He is quite handsome,” you mocked, making Aemond lift his head up with a narrowed gaze.

“I want to finish this book before the morrow,” he said, a noticeable strain in his voice as he finally set sights on your bare body, oh so ready and wanting for him.

At first, you wanted to stomp your foot in defiance, but you knew another approach would work much better in your favour.

“Then that’s your choice,” you shrugged, picking your robe up and putting it back on before turning to leave. “I’m sure Aegon would appreciate my company, or perhaps kēpus Daemon.”

The sound of the chair crashing on the floor caught you off guard. Just as your hand reached for the door handle, Aemond was on you, pushing you with your back against the door frame and his arm across your neck.

“You’re a fool,” he sneered, having discarded his eye patch sometime in his outburst.

You knew he had done it as a way to intimidate you, but getting to see the beauty of his sapphire eye always took your breath away. There was always a bitter sweetness to the fact he let you see him like this.

You weren’t at Driftmark when he lost his eye, but it was a reminder of the strain between your family - how this connection and these heated, stolen moments between you could add to that, or maybe heal it.

“Look at you, dressed like some common whore,” Aemond scoffed, his free hand undoing your robe before giving one of your breasts a rough squeeze. “Even if you hadn’t ignored Lord Ashford throughout dinner, no respectable nobleman would have you as a wife.”

“I don’t want a respectable nobleman,” you bit out, trying to hold back any reaction as his hand travelled down your body and between your thighs.

“Then what do you want?” he purred as he reached your aching cunt, long fingers teasing through your dampened folds.

You would never tire of his touch, of the way he could read your body like one of his books. But you wanted more. Needed more. Every time you were together like this, he would never take you fully. He would fuck your hand, your mouth, but not your cunt. No matter how you reasoned about taking moontea, he would never risk getting you pregnant.

“I want someone who isn’t afraid to fuck me. To stretch me open with his cock and fill me with his seed,” you told him. “I want a Targaryen. I want you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath when Aemond applied more pressure against your neck, eye blazing with anger, frustration, lust. Your words were enough to drive him, and his body, mad. Aemond’s cock strained in his pants, almost begging for him to renounce all his self restraint. How easy it would be to just fuck your right now, to sink his cock inside of you and have you desperately writhe and cry against him. To watch you take every inch - just as he’d imagined so many times.

“You know I am already betrothed,” he reminded you, easing his hold a little. “It is my duty to marry Floris Baratheon.”

You couldn’t refrain from rolling your eyes, thinking how easy it would be for you to get on the back of your dragon, Grey Ghost, and burn down that Baratheon hold and everyone inside. Leaving Storm’s End as nothing but rubble and ash would be one sure way to get close to what you wanted. To who you wanted.

“Marriage is only a political arrangement,” you replied.

Aemond responded with a grunt, releasing his hold on you and smacking the palm of his hand against the wall. You watched his outburst in silence as he turned his back and took a couple of steps away from you.

He knew those words were echoed from Daemon, and he often wondered how close your bond had been with him. It irked him. Fuelled him with a jealousy that he wished he’d never felt.

“Tell me you don’t crave me as I crave you!” you argued, tying your robe back up and stepping forward to grab his wrist. “I want you, Aemond. I thought you felt the same.”

“We don’t get what we want, you foolish girl!” he snapped, the clench of his jaw easing when he finally faced you and saw the sincerity in your eyes. The hope.

Aemond let out a pained sigh, “I would take you right now if it would change anything.”

You took his hand and linked your fingers in between his, stroking his thumb with your own. “Perhaps it would.”

He frowned.

“If I were to become pregnant with your child, our parents would have no other choice than to let us be together,” you explained. “We could be wed. We could have the life we want, together.”

Aemond closed his eye for a moment. Of course you’d calculate a plan that took even him by surprise. He should’ve learnt by now not to doubt your tenacity, you were a Targaryen, after all. And on the side of which he was supposed to hold caution around.

Only the sound of the crackling wood in the fireplace could be heard as Aemond opened his eye to look at you, somehow managing to retain his composure.

“That is not my duty, nor is it yours,” he told you, the words like a practised mantra on his tongue.

If you weren’t so caught up in your own frustrations, it would have dawned on you how much of your family's influence had been carved into you both. Seared into you like a flame.

“I’m tired of living for duty!” You yelled, letting go of his hand as if it had burnt you. “What about what we want? Don’t you even want more than this?” You gestured wildly around you. “We should get to be more than just pawns in our fathers reign. In his Lord Hand’s schemes.”

Aemond clenched his jaw at the mention of his grandfather and the bitterness in your voice. He was growing tired of this battle he knew neither of you would win. Fighting with you was nothing like his training. He could wield a sword and fight anyone on even ground, confident of a win, but with you - well, you were a different kind of opponent. Gods, it hurt so much more.

Aemond knew he had to end this, one way or another.

“If it is just a Targaryen you lust for, perhaps you should go and see Aegon or Daemon. Neither of them mind producing bastards.”

His words felt like a dagger to your heart. You never wanted anyone else. How dare he belittle you like that? Belittle everything you ever wanted with him?

You stepped away from him with angry tears in your eyes and stormed out of the room, not seeing Aemond throw his book into the fire in his rage as nausea rose through him from his own words.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #happynerdwrites

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jazzsonly · 6 months

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ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ

pairing(s): jenna ortega x stem!singer!reader

warning(s): none. (i mean ig you can count kehlani as a faceclaim?? nr i j didn’t feel like blurring the face.)

summary: ❝ Yeah, you know I tried to stop

Yeah, you know I tried

I tried to give you a little less of my time ❞

masterslist.

part two. part three. part four. coming soon!

────────✬────────

last night, y/n y/l/n made her appearance at the oscar’s. she walked the red carpet and was seen mingling with a few friends, it seemed to be a normal event for the star…but the after the event is where things took a turn. the star was filmed in the back of venue, seemingly sharing a heated discussion with a pap before swinging on the man.

click to load more details…

arms crossed, you moved your body lightly side to side, swaying the rolly chair you were seated that was placed across your manager, publicist, and agent who were all on the opposite side of the meeting room table.

through your dark shades you could see mia, your agent, nervously chewing on her lip, for someone in the business she was never really good in under pressure situations. then there was your publicist, julia, who had the bitchy face and attitude to match with it. she always liked to make a point she was not happy.

no wonder all three of your husbands left you. you thought but you knew better than to say it.

lastly, there was you manager, robert, who dramatically had his head in his hands, while exhaling and inhaling extra loudly to let you know he was not happy.

“i don’t see why i have to apologize.”

with squinted eyes, rob looks up at you with a death glare. “because this is a bad image.”

“the public isn’t dumb tho’ they’ll know i don’t mean it. so why waste the time i could be spending in the studio or better yet, living my life.”

“it doesn’t matter if they believe it or not, and it damn sure doesn’t matter if you mean—it’s about the image.” this time, julia had something to bite.

behind your shades, your eyes rolled. “i have a perfectly fine image.”

“you? perfect image?” rob sarcastically laughs in your face.

“need i remind you, you’re the same person, who just last month got so drunk that you publicly urinated in a mop bucket and yelled ‘fuck bill clintion.’ you’ve never even met that man.”

mia nods in agreement, “you need to apologize, y/n. and you need to control your anger, it’s getting out of hand.”

“i don’t need to do shit! i’m the one who pays your bills! i make the money around here!”

“you sound like a brat!”

“yeah? julia, you’re fired! fuck you.”

rob, stands up, throwing his hands up in a stop motion. “ok, enough! julia and mia please give us the room for a minute.”

they all share a look, julia looking back at you with a devilish glare. (you giving her the same stare.)

once the two ladies exit the room, rob paces for a minute, giving himself time to collect him emotions.

“y/n, i’ve been managing you since you were fifteen years old….you’re twenty-three now, i’m gonna need you to act like it.”

this time you stand up, “rob, that pap had it coming!”

“don’t give me that, you deal with paparazzi everyday. i know this about jenna and seeing her with that guy last night.”

clenching you jaw, you look away silently.

“i’m sorry that happened, kid. i know it hurts and—“

“you don’t know shit, rob. that pap just annoyed me, that’s all. meeting dismissed.”

you harshly grab your phone from the table and move around it to exit the door, despite rob’s protest and julia asking where you were going you kept marching down the halls of your label.

“have a nice—“

“yeah, you too.” you cut off the receptionist as you continue out the front, glass doors where a black car awaited for you, with your usual driver standing outside of it.

“hey sean.” you utter to the smiling man as he shuts the door behind you, and making his way to the driver’s side.

“so where to, kid?” the man adjusts the rearview mirror to get better look at you.

licking your lips, you think for a second before pulling out your phone and going to the messages app.

can i come over?

don’t let the paps see you.

“drop me at jenna’s.”

“you got it.”

you utter a bland ‘thanks’ while laying your head against the tinted window.

━━━👩🏽‍💻i guess you can call this a ‘prequel’

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mrs-snape5984 · 2 months

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„And there's a black mark where your heart should've been….“

„I could've laid down and died, but my head was spinning round. It was spinning round. I wanna know what it's like, so I can feel it inside…“ („The Blue, The Green“ by Lonely The Brave)

Trigger warning: I’ve written this post in a moment of frustration and grief. If anyone has a problem with reading the sad thoughts of a depressed, middle-aged woman with the tendency to curse and swear too much, please feel free to skip the following five paragraphs.

It’s one of those especially hard days today. I had to leave my dark room to be taken to a medical appointment. Leaving my dark room means crashing hard again…with prior announcement!

So, leaving the house goes hand in hand with a sudden feeling of disorientation. Noises, movements, lights…those are all things, which my brain can’t comprehend anymore since I’m struggling with ME/CFS. When I’m overstimulated like that, I’m losing my grip on reality. Everything gets blurry and I feel as if I don’t know, who I am anymore.

It’s hard to describe, but I need to be guided into the right direction in these situations: Walking very slowly with my cane…having a break after every few steps…being held on my other arm…always wearing my dark sunglasses and my noise canceling earplugs…all these aspects together are making me feel so helpless…

I have to take my mother with me to the doctor’s office, because I wouldn’t understand a single word otherwise. And when I’m home again, back in my dark room…lying in my bed, the big crash starts to hit me right into my face! I’m getting feverish…my whole skin hurts as if it would be pulled off my body…my lymph nodes are swollen…my limbs are hurting and I can’t make a single step anymore. My head seems to explode from aching and I’m losing my ability to communicate properly. Every fucking time!

After some hours (sometimes even up to 24 hours) of sleep, I’m regaining consciousness again…still not capable of leaving my bed. And this is the worst moment…the moment, when my brain starts thinking about the humiliating feeling of being so helpless in my age. The moment, when I’m realising, that there are still so many years left to live….probably the same way as I was living for the past 1,5 years. The moment, when I’m grieving for the life, I’ve lost. The moment, when I’m hating myself for being too sick to be the active mother, friend, employee, I’ve been before this goddamn disease ME/CFS destroyed everything!

And this is the moment, when Severus has to take over. This might sound strange, but drowning in my fantasies about him is the only way to prevent my mind from going insane. Every time, when my own reality becomes unbearable to me, I’m imagining myself to be hidden beneath his robes…searching for shelter in his arms. Severus has been my safe haven for the past 21 years…and right now I’m clinging to him as tight as I can…in order to stay alive.

The wonderfully talented @alinearthp has transformed my fantasy into this beautiful artwork and I’m more than happy with the outcome of it. Aline, my friend, I love your art and the way, we’re sharing our thoughts with each other. You are a precious person, my dear, and I’m grateful to know you. Thank you so much for everything!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

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k-slla · 2 months

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A/N: a little idea that has been playing around in my head got finally written down :)

Pairing - Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, show level violence, death

WC: 1120 | My Masterlist

All mistakes are mine. Feedback is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Sun. You could feel its warmth softly caress your cheeks. Through light sleep you heard children laughing in the distance. A door sliding open next to you brought you out from your sleep.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Dean lowered himself next to you and kissed your forehead. “Don't you want to take a nap in bed?” He sat down next to you on the porch swing.

You opened your eyes and squinted at him in the brightness of the sun.

“But it's so warm here.” You smiled and moved closer into his arms. You rested your head on his shoulder and both looked out into the yard. You couldn't help but smile to yourself seeing your older twin boys chase around the yard after their little sister. It still doesn't feel real to you to think that you and Dean really got out of the hunting life. You got married. You have this beautiful blue house with a huge yard for your dog to run around. And what was most perfect about this all - you had three beautiful, perfect children with him. Twin boys who turned 12 at the start of the summer and a five year old daughter.

It was a warm quiet summer evening. You still had a few hours before Sam and Eileen were supposed to come over for a little barbeque. “Sometimes I still think that this is a dream that we're having. It feels almost too perfect.” You said quietly and snuggled to him.

“It does, doesn't it? Look at me, Y/N.” Dean's voice was soft when he spoke. You turned your eyes up to meet his gaze. He was still perfect. Years had started to show on his face, but all that just made him even more beautiful. They made him yours. And even after all those years hunting, he never lost that spark in his eyes. You both had gone through a lot over the years. Pain, grief, losing friends and family, but for all those things you were there for each other. Helping each other to heal. He ran his fingers over your sunkissed cheek, before lowering his head to kiss you softly, lovingly.

“I love you, sweetheart. I know this seems so unreal even after all those years, but it is. We are free.”

A soft moan got suppressed in you when he kissed you once more. “I love you, Dean.”

You heard a phone ring inside the house and Dean got up to answer it, while you remained seated and looked over the yard at your children laughing and playing together.

After a little while, Dean stepped back outside. “T’was Sam. Said they might be running a little late. Julia had asked him to ask if Auntie would make her some of her “yummies”, but I told him you're tired, so no.”

“What? Dean!” You got up quickly. “Call him back. Of course I can do them.” You protested loudly, but figured out quickly that he was just messing with you from the smile that was all over his face.

You walked into the kitchen and started to gather things for your “yummies” as Sam and Eileen's daughter Julia called them. They were just simple brownies with a little almond butter swirled into it with whatever berries you had at hand. Today you decided to use raspberries. Can't go wrong with some classics. You thought to yourself as you put the tray into the oven. Soon the decadent smell of chocolate and almonds filled the kitchen air.

A few hours later everyone gathered around the fire pit in your backyard. Dean was handling the grill, you and Eileen made drinks for everyone and Sam stayed with the kids around the fire. The whole evening was filled with laughter and joy, and you could really feel yourself being at peace, happy around your family. It was already dark, but kids were still running around while the four of you were sitting around the fire.

You started to nod off again next to Dean. You heard him quietly whisper to you. “Y/N. Wake up, please.” His pleas were growing more desperate. “Please, sweetheart. Wake up!” You were still so warm and wanted to snuggle in closer to him, but you opened your eyes and saw that you were alone around the fire. It all started to disappear fast with Dean's voice getting clearer and clearer with each passing second.

“Open your eyes, baby. Please..” You knew that voice. You had heard that same tone many times before. “Wake up. Don't leave me! Please don't leave me..” It got cold around you and you felt like something else was pulling you out. Then you remembered. The hunting trip you went on. You were certain that you could've done it alone. Apparently you were wrong.

Djinns. The whole lot of them. More than you had expected, that's for sure. You didn't know it then, but as soon as you stepped out of your car, you were done for. You had no chance.

You forcefully opened your eyes and saw Dean hover above you. “Dean..I..” You were tired. You wanted to cry, but no tears would come. Your throat was sore and scratchy as you tried to talk. “Dean, I’m..sorry..” You were laying on the hard concrete floor, Dean right beside you.

You tried to reach out to his cheek, but you couldn't move. “I'm.. there were so many..” You whispered.

“It's okay, baby, just stay with me, okay?” He pulled you closer to his chest, kissing your forehead softly. You felt warm tears run down your cheeks. His tears.

“I don't..I don't think I can..” Your breaths were quickening when your fate slowly made itself clear. “I love you..Dean.. I'm..” Dean hugged you tightly. “Y/N, no, please don't…please don't leave me.” He cried out, voice barely above whisper.

“I'll always..love..you..Dean.” Now you felt like you were crying. When it really felt like you were taking your last breaths. “Dean…please…tell..” With a last effort to pull your strength together, you reached out to Dean's cheek again. Your eyes locked with his, hoping he could read out from them what you were too weak to spell out. Please tell me you love me. Tell me it's okay.

“I love you, Y/N. I always will.”

His last kiss on your lips was what took you over. It all felt like you were just falling asleep.

When you opened your eyes again you were sitting on a porch swing in front of a blue house. There were no children laughing. Dean wasn't next to you. But there was sun shining. You could feel its warmth softly caress your cheeks.

Taglist: @cevansbaby-dove @jackles010378 @deanwinchestersgirl87 @nescavaneck @il0vebeingdelulu @suckitands33

#dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #jensen ackles #dean winchester x reader #angst #fluff

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