#my husband (ao3) when are you coming back from the war? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ikaroux · 1 year

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How are they with their pregnant companion? Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Capitano, Kaveh + 1 Bonus rewrite.

Note: Did you notice that with this series, I work by paragraph? I try to make a maximum of 14 paragraphs per character and 4 or 5 for the NSFW part. Did you know that a pregnant woman's sexual appetite actually decreases during pregnancy? But I assume that this is not the case for all women, and our genshin men are so sexy, how could we resist them?

Since I now have an AO3 account, I decided to rewrite the first versions of this series to post them on it. I hope you'll still enjoy them.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

"No one is allowed to enter ma'am."

The Fatui guards blocked your way, preventing you from reaching your companion. "I must see Capitano, it's important." You tried your luck again, trying to force your way through, but the two men, clearly stronger than you, pushed you back as if you weighed nothing. One of them wrapped his hand around your arm, the iron grip he put on it making you wince in pain. "Our captain is not seeing anyone today." And he shoved you violently backwards, causing you to fall. "You brute! Let me in! I'm his fiancé!" The two men looked at each other for a few seconds before a loud laugh escaped from them. You looked at them with bewildered eyes, pondering what was funny about what you had said. The larger of the two was the first to calm down, stepping forward calmly before bending down to grab your already sore arm. He lifted you up violently, pulling you towards the exit. "Enough joking, get out where I should show more… Firmness." You were ready to scream in order to alert your lover, until a squeak from his colleague got your attention. The man manhandling you was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder and when he turned around, he could only see that his captain, your fiancé, was standing behind him, a menacing aura emanating from him. "Lo-Lord Capitano, this woman she-" Capitano's hand came down on his subordinate's wrist, applying a force to it that forced the soldier to release you. "Silence, wait for me here. We'll discuss what just happened later." The man shuddered, stepping aside to let Capitano pass as he gallantly guided you to his office. Once the two of you were alone, you threw yourself into his arms, thanking him for helping you. The man returned your embrace, caressing your back with great gentleness. "I'm sorry for what just happened. What are you doing here my sweet? You should have told me you were coming to see me." You smiled at him as you pulled away from his embrace. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your stomach with a bright smile on your face… "You'll be a father soon…" Capitano remained silent for a long time, his masked face still turned to his hands. O Tsaritsa, he was going to have to be much more cruel to the one who had abused you in front of his door. Capitano slowly removed his mask, exposing his battle-scarred features, and then lifted you off the floor, placing you on his incredibly tidy desk. He leaned in, placing kiss after kiss on your lips…

Capitano didn't want a child. War, fighting, the cruelty of this world and death were part of his daily life. But you changed his world. With you, he discovered love, the warmth of a home and the happiness of a family. He quickly imagined himself with his baby in his arms, although an illogical fear was born in his heart. It would be so small compared to him. Did his hands, covered in blood, have the right to touch such a frail and defenseless being? Fortunately, you were by his side to reassure him and guide him toward the future that awaited you both.

Unfortunately, your beloved captain often had to leave for missions entrusted to him by the Tsaritsa. He was never reluctant to leave to accomplish his duty, even if he had to go away from you… He missed you, no doubt, but Capitano was a committed man, faithful to the justice he believed in. But now that you were pregnant, every time he had to leave, his heart was heavy with sorrow. What if something happened to you while he was away? He would ask his superior, Pierro, to watch over you, even from a distance, so that he could leave with peace of mind.

Capitano was already very protective of you. Pregnancy has only strengthened this affectionate side that he usually hid from the world. Believe it or not, you don't want to know what he can do to those who want to hurt you…

When you both sleep, you have taken the habit of curling up against him. Capitano is a light sleeper, and the slightest movement puts him on alert. By the time sleep takes over, he will look at you for a long time, wrapping an arm around your waist and then touching your stomach. He could see that it had become slightly rounded. A peaceful smile spread across his face as he kissed your head resting on his chest with a sigh of contentment.

As soon as he has some time to himself, Capitano will gladly agree to do some shopping with you for the birth of the child. This tall man with an impressive build tended to stand out in the stores, especially since he refused to go out without his mask. However, you kept your cheerful nature, presenting baby clothes with a big smile on your face to your companion who stood beside you, one hand resting tenderly on your lower back, admiring your every move.

Capitano likes to position himself behind you to put his big hands on your belly. He may be content to stay that way, looking over your shoulder while you go about your business. Tender kisses on your neck and jaw will make you smile with amusement and tenderness as he caresses your lower belly, feeling at times the movements of his child…

A little habit that you both have developed: the bath. A privileged moment between the two of you, allowing you to enjoy the warmth and contact of your companion while Capitano savored the sight of your body transforming little by little. He was probably the one who enjoyed this intimacy the most, knowing full well that no one would come and disturb you. His tender and loving side came out wonderfully as he held you in his arms.

Capitano does not want to talk about you and his unborn child with other Harbingers. Other than Pierro, he doesn't trust others enough to keep you safe. He was not fooled about Pulcinella, the man hiding dark ambitions. Arlecchino was a manipulator with a heart of ice, a form of madness eating away at her. The rest of the executors were no better… Perhaps he could make an exception with the eleventh? He had never spoken to him, but he thought Tartaglia would probably be good advice with the children…

Your companion had a very soft, calm and steady voice. Every time he talked to you, you could feel the baby react to the sound of his voice. When you told him, Capitano just smiled, looking away from you. Was it a blush you could see on his ears?

Capitano will be less stingy with his tender words when he's alone with you. Your pregnancy seems to have softened him up a lot and he'll find it much easier to express his feelings towards you. Every "I love you" or "I missed you" he says will be a real treasure for you.

Capitano will be a strict but loving father. He will dedicate his life to his child and of course to you. He will do his best not to be a burden to his son/daughter, as his reputation as the strongest man in all of Teyvat may weigh down such small shoulders.

NSFW Bonus

Capitano would keep his distance from you to prevent his carnal needs from doing you more harm than good. He knew he was rough and sometimes a little mean when he couldn't control himself. Yet it was you who came to him, confessing that you needed him, that you wanted him. How could he resist you?

The doors of his office were still locked by one of you, leaving the field free for your fiancé to lie down on his desk, abruptly pushing on the floor anything that could have hurt you. Taking care to remove his mask before starting anything, his lips would find your mouth as soon as he was free of it. His hands greedily roamed your body, removing the clothes that were in his way. His eyes landed on your belly, which had quickly taken on a few curves, causing a glint of excitement to shine in his pupils. His hands slid tenderly over it, admiring the way your belly was inflating with each breath. It was his child growing inside you. He was the one who had made you pregnant. It made his member harder and harder every time he thought about it. Pulling gently on your legs, Capitano pressed himself against you, making you moan with anticipation as you felt the hardness in his pants against your you. He wanted to make you scream with pleasure, to let the guards outside his door know what he was doing to you and that you were his. No one would dare laugh at you again when you said you were his fiancé or that you were carrying his child.

Capitano wished he had been gentler with you, for fear of hurting his child. But his instincts told him otherwise… Still, he had asked a Fatui doctor for advice about your sexual relations. He was reassured when it was explained that there was no risk to the baby and that sex could even be beneficial in easing the delivery.

While his long fingers took their time preparing you to receive him, Capitano stood straight in front of you, watching your every reaction. Seeing you squirm on his desk, red and moaning at his ministrations made his member more painful than ever. He waited to make you cum on his fingers before slowly removing his sex from its fetters, his eyes never leaving your breathless form. Positioning himself at your entrance, Capitano took your knees between his hands, spreading your legs further apart before he began to thrust. He knew he was big, but you had always taken him without complaint. As soon as he felt your walls give way to his invasion, he immediately began to pound you with force, making his desk creak. Your screams of pleasure made him smile as he heard the murmurs of the guards behind his door. Ceasing to keep his distance from your lips, Capitano let go of your legs to bend toward you, careful not to crush your belly as he used his forearms to lean on the wood of the desk. With a muffled grunt, he kissed you, enjoying the feel of your hands pulling his ebony hair.

Capitano rarely moaned, but when he felt your orgasm tightening his member like a vise, he couldn't stop the pleasure he felt from vibrating his vocal cords. Instead of going slow to follow you, his thrusts became rougher, a dull growl escaping his throat each time he hit your hips. He clenched his fists as he felt his orgasm pouring into you. God, if you weren't already pregnant, he wouldn't have hesitated to do it again… But you were exhausted, the pregnancy taking all your energy. Capitano withdrew, taking the time to kiss your belly before lifting you up in his arms to lie on his couch. Covered by his long coat, you looked at him with loving eyes. You drew him to you, demanding his caresses and kisses. Capitano sighed against your lips, his heart beating with adoration for you.

"Pregnant!"

Kaveh inadvertently shouted through the streets of Sumeru, startling a few passersby as they went about their business. The architect inhaled sharply, grabbing your wrist to take you to a quieter place. Once out of sight, he took your face in his hands, plunging his beautiful gaze into yours. "Are you pregnant?" You smiled at him, tenderly wrapping a hand around his wrist before placing a light kiss on it. Kaveh couldn't believe his ears, his heart drumming in his chest as he seemed about to burst with happiness. Gently, he brought his face closer, pressing his forehead against yours, exhaling a shaky breath from his mouth. As he closed his eyes, a dreamy smile stretching his lips, Kaveh wondered how he had managed to survive so many years without you by his side. You were a blessing in his life, an angel fallen from heaven who offered him love and home. "Thank you my love. Thank you." Simple words in his mouth, yet loaded with emotion. You embraced him, celebrating your happiness to come.

Kaveh had moved in with you, leaving the hell of collocation with Alhaitham for boundless happiness with you. Although his shoulders were still weighed down by the astronomical debt of his latest masterpiece, Kaveh kept his head high, continuing to work hard on numerous projects to clear his debt. He didn't want his problems to cause you stress, especially during pregnancy…

Kaveh took care of everything at home. He would let you rest, especially when he heard you getting up at night to vomit… He would stay with you, holding your hair and helping you clean up afterwards. As soon as you returned to bed to go back to sleep, your companion would encourage you to lie down in his arms, stroking your forehead and hair until your eyes grew heavy.

Since Kaveh couldn't really afford to buy anything for you and your child, he decided to use his architectural skills. He will design and build with the help of Tighnari and Collei a crib and rocking chair and a whole lot of beautiful furniture for the baby's room.

As your belly gets rounder, Kaveh will make it a habit every morning to kiss your belly, saying a sweet "Hello" to his baby before getting up and kissing you tenderly.

Your partner will often offer you afternoons on your terrace. Comfortably seated on cushions, Kaveh would hold you between his legs, one hand on your belly while he read you the book of your choice. You could also just listen to him humming a Sumeru tune, savoring his lips on your scalp.

Alhaitham and Kaveh were "friends". Sure, it was a strange friendship, but the two supported each other in their own way. That's why you weren't surprised when Alhaitham knocked on your door, his face expressionless, holding a teddy bear in his arms… Kaveh looked at his friend with a strange grimace on his face and you couldn't help but laugh at the sight. It was over tea that you were able to chat with Kaveh's friend, sharing with him your wishes for your child.

Arguments were rare in your relationship, but sometimes you felt like your hormones were getting the best of you. You could go from pure anger to tears of sadness after an argument. Kaveh understood your problem and always made sure to hug you, whispering in your ear that he was sorry and that he loved you…

The first time you called Kaveh to put his hand on your belly, the man was speechless as he felt his little one moving around inside. The following times, your companion could not help but tell his baby about his day or even complain about Alhaitham and the wise men or his mom who had gently scolded her for nonsense. With your ear pressed against you, your arms wrapped around your hips, you stroked his hair, rolling your eyes with an amused smile as you listened to your companion confess to your child.

Kaveh often told you that he wished it was a girl. He knew that little girls had a stronger bond with their fathers, especially at a young age. Of course, if you gave birth to a boy, he would spoil and cherish him just as much.

Every outing you took, Kaveh would stand by your side, protecting you from crowds and careless passersby who might inadvertently punch you in the stomach. If someone dared to push you around, the anger in Kaveh's voice and the strength he used to push the person away shocked you every time. Yet you were the one who calmed him down, reassuring him of your health by taking his hand and placing it on your stomach. "You see, our baby is fine." You said to yourself as your child was having fun doing somersaults. Kaveh sighed, calming his nerves before smiling and kissing your forehead apologetically. "I rather think he wants to defend his mother, like his father…" You laughed at his comment.

Between the two of you, Kaveh was definitely the one who was dreading the delivery the most. The closer the date got, the more the fear that the delivery would go wrong invaded his mind. He didn't want to lose you or the baby. His fear could be contagious, fortunately, it was your friends who reassured you. Alhaitham, Tighnari, Collei, Nilou, Layla and even Cyno. All of them promised you that everything would go well and that the doctors who would take care of you were used to deliver even the most difficult babies. This will not stop Kaveh from cuddling you every day, enjoying your closeness and warmth until the big day.

Kaveh will be a very loving and devoted father to his child. He loves to hold his baby in his arms, showing others how perfect his child was. He loves to kiss his chubby cheeks.

NSFW Bonus

Kaveh was the kind of man who was into romance. Whenever he wanted you, he made it clear in a roundabout way. Soft kisses on your lips, sensually running down your neck. Or soft words whispered in your ear as he slowly led you to your room decorated with flowers and some lit candles… But you were the opposite of him.

The first time you felt the irresistible urge to feel him inside you, you pulled him to your room, kissing him fiercely, drawing a surprised moan from his throat. Not having the time to grab your hips to avoid falling, you pushed him onto the bed, spreading him out beneath you. His shocked eyes stared at you as you straddled him, bending towards him to claim his mouth again. Kaveh felt like his body was boiling from the inside out as you wrapped your tongue around his, rubbing your hips against his pelvis. He could feel his member hardening at the sight of you, his eyelids closing sharply at the sudden invasion of desire. Was he allowed to have you while you were pregnant? In doubt, he gently pulled you away from him, slowly catching his breath before asking, "W-Wait, isn't this going to be dangerous for the baby?" He shuddered as you rolled your eyes before smiling at him, your hands clutching at your top to slowly remove it. Kaveh's eyes couldn't turn away from you as he admired your bare body. Hesitantly, he raised his hands to you, first caressing your round belly before moving higher, kneading your breasts free of your bra. He grunted when you moved your hips again…

Kaveh let you undress him, welcoming you into his arms once you were done. He liked to see you sitting on top of him, stroking his member against yours to coat it with your arousal. Kaveh closed his eyes tightly as he felt you slide down his member, his hands coming to rest on your hips to help you get off him. As soon as he opened his eyelids again, he felt his cheeks heat up sharply at the sight of your flushed face, his eyes closed by the feeling of pure happiness that overwhelmed you. To see you in this state, with his member buried in you and the round belly of his child made him mad with desire.

Kaveh took you by surprise when he tightened his grip on your hips, using his feet as a fulcrum to start penetrating you hard. It was not in his habit to behave like this, usually preferring gentle sex. But his sudden brutality made you scream with excitement. Kaveh had never felt this way. Desire was running through his head as he concentrated on the pleasure he was feeling as he pounded into you with force. The noises you were making were making him dizzy and when you called out his name, begging for more, Kaveh knew he was lost. Turning suddenly, careful that nothing hurt your stomach, your lover grabbed your knees, pinning them in the crook of his arms. Despite the haze of desire that prevented him from thinking properly, Kaveh was still careful that the position was not uncomfortable for either you or the baby. As soon as he got your go-ahead, he started pounding you again with rigor.

Kaveh never held back his moans, openly expressing the pleasure he felt when he made love to you. He knew it turned you on to hear him moan your name, your own voice getting louder every time he panted in your ear. He whispered to you how good it felt, how much he loved you and how happy you made him. Sweating, Kaveh slowly felt his end approaching as your walls began to tighten around him. As your screams became more and more high pitched, he applied more force in his thrusts to help you reach your orgasm. Your name came out of his mouth in a final moan as he felt himself coming at the same time as you. His hips slowed their rhythm until they stopped completely. Kaveh slowly separated from you, falling down beside you, out of breath and exhausted… Gradually regaining his senses, he started to sit up to see how you were doing before being interrupted by your hand pushing him back against the bed. A smile was frozen on his lips as he watched you straddle him again, a smug expression on his face. God, you were insatiable and terribly sexy as he watched your hand slowly caress your belly until it fell on his member… He felt that the next few months of pregnancy were going to be a real physical ordeal for him…

"Diluc I… I'm pregnant."

Diluc dropped the quill he used for signing several contracts with Fontaine's clients, staining the papers beneath. His round eyes stared at you as he kept his mouth slightly open. You could see his hands trembling as he backed up in his chair, clearly frightened by your admission. He could feel the world spinning around him, dizziness clouding his ability to think. He didn't understand how this could have happened, knowing that you were both protecting each other. You were everything to him, his life, his heart, his world, and now you were giving him a child. He was happy but also so scared… Yes, Diluc was afraid. Scared of losing you. Scared of hurting you. Scared of… Not being a good father. He had never known his mother, who died at birth, and his father, whose sudden and violent death left him with deep scars in his heart. What if the same thing happened to you as to his mother? Or if Diluc suffered the same fate as his father? He couldn't bear it… He would never forgive himself, even in death. Your lover gasped when he felt your fingers gently caress his cheek, taking him away from the dark thoughts that were invading his mind. "Diluc, darling calm down." - You cuddled his cheekbones, then his ear, before tangling your fingers in his hair and pressing his forehead against yours. The gentleness in your eyes calmed his doubt-ridden heart and he finally allowed himself to breathe peacefully. - "You will be wonderful. You always have been." - His hands had stopped shaking as he took yours in his. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. The fear had left him. Happiness was right there in front of his eyes, he loved you so much and he will love this little being that you both had created just as much.

Diluc has always been very considerate and gentle with you. And he was even more so since your pregnancy. Every word, every caress he offered you made you feel like you were falling in love with him all over again.

During your seventh week of pregnancy, the problems associated with it became more and more complicated to bear, often forcing you to lie in your marital bed with a cold cloth over your eyes. The pain pounding in your head and nausea were especially bad in the morning. Although Diluc had a lot of work to do, he stayed by your side, moving your head to his thighs to massage your temples and forehead. He hated seeing you in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it. So he asked some friends what could help you with your nausea. Lisa advised him to make you a ginger drink, which was well within Diluc's capabilities.

Your companion has always been a protective man. Too protective. You knew he had deep-seated fears about you, and the thought of anything happening to you while he was away terrified him. Of course, you weren't going to complain about spending more time with him, but you didn't want him to put aside his business or nightly duties for you. So you gently scolded him, reminding him that you weren't made of sugar, just pregnant. With a tender smile, you kissed him, promising him that you would take care of yourself while he was away.

You stopped counting the number of times Diluc put his hands on your belly, savoring the curves that were gradually taking shape. He loved to caress it while he held you close. It was a warm and intimate moment, taking advantage of the private time between you to bury his face in your neck and kiss you. Most of the time he kept his eyes closed, imagining your life when the baby was born. That reality took on a clearer shape in his brain when he felt his baby move against his hands for the first time. Tears welled up in his eyes, wondering if it was possible for him to be happier.

As soon as sleep came, Diluc, who tended to fall asleep later, would lie down next to your belly, placing tender kisses on it before whispering sweet nothings to his baby. "I'll protect you and mom.", "I love you both so much." His baby would respond positively to his voice, pressing against your belly to form a small bump. Diluc would smile, responding to his child by stroking that spot.

Diluc had gotten into the habit of helping you support the weight of your belly when you went out. He could see that it was getting harder and harder for you to stand, so whenever he could, Diluc would go behind your back, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your hips. His large hands would reach under your belly, helping you support the baby's weight. Who cares if people looked at him, didn't he have the right to support his wife? Plus, it made it easier for him to kiss you, his lips brushing your shoulder, neck and jaw with tenderness before whispering his love for you.

Your husband was an excellent cook, and although Adelinde was the one who did most of the cooking, Diluc wanted to prepare it for you personally. He insisted on using only the best produce, even going so far as to have the fruits and vegetables he needed planted in the estate gardens. This man loved to shower you with affection, which is why he would bring you a beautifully flowered tray to bed every morning, with a dish he had specially prepared on top.

Diluc didn't care if his child was a boy or a girl, he only cared that it was healthy and safe. The fear of childbirth had never left him, and as the due date approached, the fear gripped his heart. He vowed to stay by your side and hold your hand during the birth, making sure to call on the best doctors and midwives in all of Mondstadt to accompany you through this ordeal.

When you reached the eighth month of pregnancy, Diluc caught you looking at yourself half-naked in front of the mirror, studying your round belly as he slowly ran a hand over it, his lips stretched by your sweet smile. Diluc admired the scene, his eyes shining with love. The baby would be here soon and he thought, seeing you like this, that you would be an incredible mother. Diluc silently approached, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his hands on yours. His eyes stayed on your reflection as he felt you melt further into his embrace. Diluc sighed, happy and content.

Upon learning of your pregnancy, Kaeya had decided to spend more time at the Dawn Winery, trying to ease Diluc's shoulders by being with you. This was difficult at first, as there was always an icy coldness between them. But as the weeks went by, the two men began to speak cordially to each other. You could sometimes see them smiling at each other as they talked about the baby and how Kaeya would be the best uncle in Teyvat. The gifts he gave for your child always ended up in the baby's future room. A stuffed animal that resembled an owl would wait warmly in the crib for the arrival of the Ragnvindr offspring.

Sometimes Diluc was forced to leave the manor late because a source told him of abyssal mages, Fatui, or bandits lurking around his lands. For your safety, Diluc would put on his Darknight hero outfit and go hunting. Even though you were asleep most of the time, Diluc would always offer you and the baby a kiss and an "I love you both" before he left. He would do so as quickly as possible, reluctant to leave you alone in the manor with only a few maids unable to defend you in case of attack. Fortunately, and Diluc knew this, the source of his information, specifically Kaeya, was keeping a close eye on the Dawn Winery.

Diluc would be a very gentle and loving father. His heart warmed every time he held his baby close. It was a little being that seemed so fragile in his arms. The first time he held him, tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at him in silence, becoming more emotional as his baby's tiny hand wrapped around his finger. He vowed inwardly to do everything he could to protect his family.

Bonus NSFW:

Diluc was amazed at how much you'd been craving sex since you were pregnant. Even though your sex life had always been full, with Diluc satisfying your needs to perfection, you now sometimes went to him more than once during the day to ask for his help, pulling his tie to lure him into your bedroom. His cheeks were flushed with excitement as he obediently allowed himself to be dragged along by you. Once in the privacy of your room, Diluc locked the door, pinning you against it. His lips, eager for you, crushed against your mouth with desperate force, while his hands grabbed your knees to lift you up. Wrapping your legs around his hips, Diluc took advantage of having his hands free to grab your ass, allowing him to press his growing erection against your folds. Moaning against his lips, you savored the languid movements of his hips against you…

Diluc thought back to the first time you'd made love since you were pregnant. He had been so afraid of hurting you that he had just made you cum on his fingers and tongue, completely ignoring his needs. The second time, you reassured him that the baby was safe, that he could enter you without any problems. You didn't have to say it twice. Now there he was, holding you against the door, struggling to get your clothes off. Archon, he felt so insatiable! Already this morning he had woken you up with his mouth and fingers, waiting patiently for your eyes to open and asking for more…

At first, Diluc went slowly with you, treating you like glass that would shatter at the touch of his fingers. His back and forth was sensual as his fingers happily caressed your belly. He can't help but kiss you, his tongue wrapping around yours. His hands roamed your body with passion, enjoying the softness of your skin against his palms.

Now that your clothes were on the ground, he didn't bother to remove his own, simply unzipping the front of his pants and then pulling down his underwear to free his member. Lord, you were already ready for him, he didn't even have to prepare you with his fingers. Was it the pregnancy that made you like this? He'd never admit it, but he loved feeling you so in love with him as he was with you. With one of his arms still holding you firmly in place, Diluc used his free hand to position his sex at your entrance, penetrating the tip first before slowly working his way in. His gentle back and forth movements made you see the stars and as soon as he hit bottom, his movements stopped, probably waiting for his breathing to calm down. The pleasure was so great that his body trembled against you. His soft grunts against your ear drove you wild with excitement as you felt Diluc press you closer to him, melting you into his embrace. He left no space between the two of you, allowing himself to feel your little round belly against his abs. His shirt prevented him from fully feeling your body against his, and he cursed himself inwardly for his impatience. Slowly, his hips began to roll against you, making you moan his name against his ear. Diluc kept his jaw firmly clenched, occasionally hissing with pleasure as he felt your walls tighten around him. It felt so good that he had to hold back hard to keep from cumming immediately. He hadn't even begun to come properly… As he languidly rolled his hips against you, his face hidden in your hair, he heard your pleas against his ear. Faster. Harder. This is what you wanted. Well, then he would grant your wishes. Grabbing your buttocks more firmly, Diluc began to penetrate you hard and fast, making you scream his name. Archon, he could feel your nails scratching at his back, and despite the pain, it excited him more. The door creaked with his pounding and he was sure all his employees were aware of your lovemaking. But he would have time to worry about that later, continuing to pound you, being careful not to hit your belly. He rarely got to a point where he couldn't control his own sounds, but it was when he felt completely lost in you that his moans got louder, more ferocious with each swing of his hips. His sex ached as he quickened the pace of his thrusts, feeling your orgasm approaching. He let a loud grunt escape him as your walls tightened around him.

He savored the feel of your hands on his shoulder blades, on his neck and in his hair, feeling the love and passion of your actions. He came inside you, again and again, going straight back to the assault when he was done. Since you were pregnant, the urges he once managed to control were now overpowering his reason. He wanted you and your lustful looks didn't encourage him to calm down. He was going to satisfy you in the best way possible, as many times as necessary and for as long as you would let him.

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just-some-random-blogger · 8 months

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Safe Keeping | 1

Part 2

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (wedding night, loss of virginity, mild dub con, PIV, biting, praise kink), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: what do we say to big scary murderers? all together now: i can fix him. the smut is at the end so just keep scrolling to the bottom if you wanna pass (: originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

A collective gasp resonates in the hall upon the utterance of the proclamation. The blonde boy basks in the reaction. I release a breath, hand on my churning belly, as I stand there in front of the Iron Throne. The agitation that filled me threatened to spill from my lips when I curtsied to the king. But by the gods, I manage to mutter, "you have honored me with such a decision, your grace."

King Joffrey smirks, "yes," he shifts in his seat, "I have." He stands from the throne and raises a beckoning hand, "dog!"

All eyes turn to one corner.

The rustle of fabric and the clink of steel fill the hall. I watch as he walks towards me. I watch the large man, clad in darkness from head to toe, hand on his hilt, face adorned with a large burn, come to my side but pay me no mind. He turns to his king, "your grace."

"My king," queen Cersei mutters to her son, "he is a member of the Kingsguard, he cannot--"

"My word is law, is it not?" the boy says.

His mother looks at him then us, and says no word.

Joffrey grins, "I present your new ward," he raises his arms, "orphaned at war, parents and brothers dead, house left with no heirs. She turned to me for counsel," he points to his chest, "for she would die on her own. And now I give her you," he clasps his hands, "to have and to hold in holy matrimony."

The room is dead silent.

"Consider it a gift for your loyal service," he turns to me, "a rather generous one, given your infliction," he turns back to him.

The man on my side nods once.

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes."

I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine father."

A loud and shrill laugh echoes in the chamber, demanding everyone's attention. Joffrey wheezes until he's red and tumbles back into his metal chair. He catches his breath and nods, "he- mmm, he would," he chuckles.

The king settles himself and waves us off, "go forth and make arrangements then, my lady. Your protector awaits."

I flinch at the way the wooden door is opened. Sandor stands before me, in a dress shirt and a scowl, leaning against the opening of his chamber door. I look away and curtsy, "good morrow, Lord Sandor," I steal a quick glance at Lucy by my left, "I've had my handmaiden prepare f-"

"Hound."

I lift my eyes to his face. The sour expression he held is amplified by the scar on his side. His eyes burn into me. "They call me the Hound," he grunts, "y'know that?"

I clasp my hands in front of me and open my mouth before muttering, "yes. Yes, I do."

"Then save me of this lord business," he straightens up and walks off inside his chambers. I watch him as much as I can from where I stood outside his room. I pipe up when he is no longer in eye's view, "may I come in?"

"Door's open, isn't it?"

I look at Lucy hesitantly, motioning she stay outside. I push the door wider and walk in, seeing Sandor was now getting dressed.

I stare at him for a moment, pressing my hands closer together, "would you like for me to he-"

"I'm not the king who has a bitch for every task."

I clench my jaw at his icy words.

Sandor begins to do his clasps, "why are you here, girl?"

He does not look at me after asking. I purse my lips before replying, "I am heading to the tailor to pick fabrics and-"

"Why isn't the tailor coming here?" he asks, still focused on dressing himself.

Sandor finally turns to me after fixing his top. I look up at him, feeling a dread build in my belly, "I wanted to go outside."

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. He takes steps closer.

My lips part. I blurt, "the palace is too stuffy."

"Stuffy?" he retorts, "I wonder how large your house is if you find it stuffy here."

I shake my head, "I did not mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" Sandor says, tilting down to look upon me once he is close enough. I am unable to withhold myself from stepping back. I mutter, "there are many... looming presences. It's overwhelming."

"Looming, she says," he grumbles. "Well, little lady, you're going to be shackled to me, and I'm shackled here. You'll have to get used to these looming presences."

I turn away from him and take a breath. Must he speak to me like I'm a child? "I understand that."

"No, I don't think you do," he says.

I look back at him. His gaze is as hard as ever.

"The moment a thing like you is outside the castle walls, thieves and rapists will fight to getcha," he walks off, "get your footman to escort you right in front of the shop and back."

I furrow my brows as he heads to the door, "wait, what about you?"

He stops right in front of Lucy and turns back, "what about me?"

"I'm going to the tailor to be fitted a dress for our wedding," I explain, "I came here to bring you along with me," I point to the woman at his side, "Lucy has made food for you to-"

"Why would I go with you to a tailor?"

Will he ever let me finish speaking? I hold back my annoyed expression, "you need to be fitted for your wedding at-"

"I'm not your dress up dolly," he grumbles, face pinched in disgust, "I'll be wearing my armor and that's that."

We stare at each other for a moment. I watch as Lucy glares at Sandor from behind. I clench my jaw tightly before curtsying, "as you wish, my lord-"

"Hound," he barks.

I look at him in shock, "you wish me to call you hound?"

He narrows his eyes and scoffs, "it's what I am-- what you're marrying, isn't it?"

I debate his words, unsure if he meant it or if it was a trick, a reason for him to be angry at me, "may I call you by name?"

He feels disdain burn up from his belly to his throat, "what? Too good to admit that-"

"That is not what I said!" I quip hotly.

The hulking man is rendered silent. He did not expect that. Still, he decides not to respond and walks away.

I scoff when he does so.

Lucy makes a face at him before coming up to me, offering a remorseful look, "he's a brute, milady! Rugged and ugly and mean!"

"Lucy," I warn as she takes my arm and escorts me out. She closes the door on our way and makes a face, "he's a thickheaded oaf!" she glares behind her to no one, "he's lucky-- blessed by all gods to be promised to a lady like you, and he treats you as though you were the degene-"

"Lucy!" I quip, yanking her by the arm.

She is finally silenced because of this. We both halt in our spot.

I hiss, "if someone were to hear you, if he were to hear you..." I shake my head, "he is my lord now. He is your lord."

Lucy grumbles.

"If it could be, I would not marry anyone," I tell her under a hushed voice, "but you know that cannot be."

We begin to walk down the hall. I continue, "I had thought I'd end with an old lord, eager to inherit my estate and esteem," I shake my head, "shocking as it was to be thrown like a bone to him..." I look out the open windows, "at least... the Hound... can protect me," I look back to Lucy, "protect us."

Lucy's face falls solemn. We hold each other's gaze for a moment. She then offers, "you're right. Them forest monsters will cower in fear at the mere sight of the 'ound."

We head to the castle gates, "do you think the guards will let us-"

"We'll walk, Lucy," I reply.

"What?! But the Hound said-"

"He expected me to have footmen and you know well that I don't. I do not think it would be appropriate to instruct the servants here to go out of their way for us. Besides, the shop is not far, you know this."

"But, Lady, I- I can drive the carriage again!"

I shake my head, "don't be ridiculous, Lucy. Do you know how silly we'd look galloping in a carriage for just a few streets down the city?"

Lucy is unable to talk me into any of her ideas. We ask the guards let us through the gate then walk to the tailor.

Once there, I am greeted by the tailor and immediately attended to.

Lucy and I go through the fabrics together. I laugh at her sentiment that all the fabrics would look good on me.

"Here," the tailor says, placing a strip of fabric on my shoulder, "I think this would suit you well, lady."

I look at myself in the mirror just as Lucy says, "that's it! That's the one!"

"Lucy," I chuckle, "you've said that about all the fabrics thus far."

"And I meant it every time!" she retorts, "but this one, this one is truly better than all the rest."

I look at myself in the mirror, "this one is actually quite pretty," I agree, "it's a very pale shade of red, but I quite enjoy it."

"It is all the rage with the ladies at court," the tailor says.

I smile, "very well. I should like to have this for my wedding dress."

Lucy squeals and applauds.

"A fine choice, my lady," the tailor nods and finishes measuring me.

The moment Lucy and I exit the tailor shop, we are scared by a loud holler. We turn to our side and see the mighty Hound, leaned against the wall. He straightens up and marches towards me.

"My Lord Sand-"

"What did I tell you about going outside the castle?" he barks, glaring down at me. His nostrils flare. His jaw clenches. My stomach rolls.

I give him a look and push Lucy behind me, "there was no dange-

"That's what you think. But tell me, what do little girls know but to play dress up?"

I whimper when he grabs my arm and drags me like an unruly child all the way back to the palace. I do not try to fight him. I know I will only hurt and tire myself if I do.

"Maybe I should let the peasants have at you," he mutters, side-eyeing me hotly, "teach you a lesson."

"Let her go!" Lucy shrieks.

He threatens to strike her when she tires to pull me away. I shout in protest. Sandor huffs and decides to simply continue dragging me.

The moment we are past the gates, he releases me roughly, making me yelp. Lucy grabs my arm and checks if I am injured.

Sandor eyes every one of the men present, "I'll make a jump rope out of the entrails of whoever fucking lets her out again."

The Hound storms off, leaving me and my handmaiden reeling and everyone else uneasy.

Sandor walks down the halls across the keep. He notices a guard looking down from the window. He wonders if he should push him for no other reason than the fact that he can.

He doesn't. He goes downstairs. He furrows his brows at the sight of men huddled together, looking at something in the gardens. He realizes it's most likely the same thing the man upstairs was looking at.

He walks their way, because he has to anyway, but is, frankly, uninterested in whatever the fuck has these men gawking.

On his way to his insufferable master, he passes Baelish, who is seemingly chipper to see him. The man smiles, "greetings, Hound."

The Hound ignores him.

"Pretty little thing in the garden. A darling flower, ready to be plucked," Baelish smirks as he watches the large man pass, "our king truly blessed you with such a match."

His expression does not change but his ears do ring at that as he walks down the hall.

He wills himself not to think of it, Littlefinger is a leech, but by the end of the day, his words are still ringing in mind. How irritating it was, suddenly, that he did not look at whatever the fuck it was those men were gawking at.

He's fuming at the sight of more men flocked by the garden when he reaches that hall again.

"OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" he growls, thrashing past anyone who was slow and stupid enough not to get out of his path in time.

Sandor's eye twitches as when he sees what the commotion is all about.

"So, the princess said to him, 'away with you. I would rather never feel your kiss than yearn for something I will never feel again.' " I read the last section of the page. I flip to the next part and offer a smile to the children leaned on my lap listening to my story.

"Why would she tell him to go away?" Benji asked me from my right.

Lucy, beside him, chuckles and brushes his hair back,

I offer, "well, the prince had to go away. I suppose the princess just wanted it to be done with."

To my left, Ophelia, the boy's younger sister, pushes the book in my hand down so that she can see the picture. I show it to her just as Benji says, "she should have kissed him."

I chuckle, "well, maybe she will. There are a few more pages le-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I gasp and look up. A protective form of ire burns through me at the sound of Sandor's words. The two siblings in my arm squeal at the sight of him and cower into my breast. I glare at him, "there are children here!"

"I can bloody see that," he looks down with contempt, "what? Are they your bastards?"

Lucy takes hold of the children.

"They are not bastards!" I rebut, "they are my childhood friend, Lady Deena's children, who, mind you, travelled far to King's Landing for our wedding!"

"I don't give a fuck about Lady Deenas or Lady Danas. Couldn't you have read to the rats in your damn chambers, girl?"

I give my handmaiden one look and, immediately, Lucy takes Benji and Ophelia along with their fairytale book. They scurry away to their chambers as the children clamor.

I stand from the stone fence we had been sat on, "we wanted fresh air."

"You wanted attention," the Hound quips.

I am wholly offended by his accusation. Now that I was standing alone in front of him, my confidence from having something to protect dwindles. I don't get to ask from whom he thought I wanted attention because he's soon berating me all over again. He quips, "does it please you to know all the guards in King's Landing want to fuck a baby into you?"

I am appalled by his venom.

He grabs me by the arm and begins hauling me off. A squeak spills from my lips at his brute force. Part of me wishes to fight back this time; I do not want him to humiliate me by dragging me around again. And yet I find myself unable to do anything more than latch my fingers into his iron grip, trying to at least loosen it.

Sandor, of course, does not budge.

"Is it a crime to read to children?!" I whine out in frustration, finding it immensely difficult to keep up to with his wide strides.

He does not make a sound, save the sound of his boots on the stone floors. I pant as we hike up the steps, yet still, I find myself explaining, "I would have done the same to our children!"

I do not see that Sandor reacts to this because I am too busy trying to match his pace.

I thank the gods when he finally releases me. When I catch my breath, I realize I am in front of the door to my chambers.

"Do not stroll around as if you actually live here," Sandor quips, raising a finger at me.

"But I do-"

"Last time I checked, you're not marrying into royalty," he cuts me off.

I watch the large man walk off right after speaking this. I rub my arm as I feel my eyes water. More than his heavy grip, I was once again hurt by his jagged treatment. My voice breaks as I shout out, "wou-ld you at least tell me what exactly I've done to have angered you so?!"

He does not slow, nor does he look over his shoulder when he barks back, "I don't want to see you fucking reading to those children again."

Needless to say, I crumble into a fit of tears the moment I get into my chambers.

When Lucy comes to my side on my bed, he curses the Hound and does her best to console me. She rubs my back as I weep my woes out into my pillow, "oh, Lucy, he doesn't just despise me, he despises children!"

Lucy scoffs, "why am I not surprised."

She regrets saying this when I turn to her with wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She gives a guilty expression, "milady, I-"

"That's all I ever wanted," I sniffle, "all I ever dreamed of-" my lips quiver, "being a mother. Having children. You know this."

Lucy bites her lips tightly as I continue to sob. She mutters, "pardon my foolish words, lady."

"Oh, what does it matter-" I rub my philtrum, "you're right. This is not a surprising development."

"You can still get him to give you his babes! Men like making babies, not really taking care of them. And of course, I would never leave your side. I would help you raise your darlings, protect them from him," she speaks sincerely. I knew her words meant to comfort me but in truth, I don't think they do.

It seems she can tell that, which is why she's apologizing all over again.

I shake my head and place my hand on her cheek, "it's alright, Lucy... you needn't worry... it's all... going to be alright.

Sandor and I look starkly contrasting at the altar. He is dark and brooding, clad in hard armor and a perpetual frown. I am bright and jittery, wrapped in pale reds and nervous smiles.

The septon binds our hands together in fabric. We turn to each other as we speak our vows.

My heart races when we are told to kiss. I suck in a breath and get on my tiptoes to reach his lips. I crane my neck up; he makes no effort to lean down in return. Still, our lips meet and in that moment, I am his.

The audience applauds us, the sound of King Joffrey's laugh is apparent even through it. Our wedding was not a grand event; the king wanted it to happen in haste, and I could not afford to make it a grand anyway. There were also not so many people in attendance, and yet it felt like the whole world was watching me in this moment.

The celebration feast that came after was terribly tedious and severely unenjoyable for me, and for Sandor. Everyone else seemed to enjoy the merrymaking though, namely the king, and I suppose that was enough.

I did nothing but smile and thank my guest from my seat next to Sandor. He did not speak to me, let alone anyone who came up to us with congratulations on their lips. All he did was eat. I suppose it could be worse. At least one of us could stomach eating at this moment.

The only life I felt was when I was introduced to a babe of one of the ladies. The sweetling had only seen 4 moons and she was as sweet as can be. She was so precious. I just had to hold her. I was inspired to even stand and frolic a bit with her in my arms.

Her mother and I conversed much about babies and child rearing. My stomach rolled in a mix of excitement, dread, anticipation, and worry all at once, knowing this was to be the next part of my life now.

I enjoyed all the stories she told me. I was flattered when she said I would be a great mother, for her child in my arms did not fuss one bit and she was known to be quite fussy. I giggled at all the wonderful memories she had with her other children who, she said, were even fussier than her daughter. I nodded solemnly at her advice in child birth and breastfeeding, making sure not to let a single word go unheard.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Sandor was watching this all from his spot with the cup of wine before him. He did not avert his eyes once; he watched each and every move.

Well, it was unbeknownst to everyone excluding Lord Baelish, who was rather amused by it all, which was why he decided to act.

"Lady Clegane," Lord Baelish comes up to me and raises a hand, "might you spare me a dance?"

I turn form the babe in my arms to him. I smile a small one, "I'm afraid my darling friend here makes me unwilling to do anything but coddle her."

The child's mother on my left laughs, as does Baelish. He links his hands together, "well, judging from your darling friend's temperament, I'd say you would be a fine mother."

"I agree," the lady says.

I grin from ear to ear, heart soaring at the sentiment, "I would like to be nothing more."

Baelish presses his lips into a smirk, "may the gods bless you with many children then," he raises his hands "and may they all take after your sweetness, grace, and beauty."

The way Baelish speaks those words were intentional, as was everything was with him. The comment leaves an air of tension between us. The man basks in it and decides his work is done here.

"I-It is kind of the king to assign a larger room," I muster up as I walk into my new chambers-- our new chambers.

Sandor follows after me, locking the door behind him. He hums, "I doubt it was the king that thought of it. It was probably the queen."

I stand by the end of the bed. I brush the sheets with my hand. I mutter a correction, "kind of her to think of us."

When I turn, my breath hitches at the sight of Sandor standing right behind me. I suck in a sharp breath as I take in his expression. His face is barely visible in the dark. I can only see as much as the moon allowed. Still, I can tell he is stoic, hard, and predatory. This was it.

My hands tremble. I fiddle with my fingers, "shall I-" I bring my palms to his chest plate, "help you out of your armor?"

Sandor does not respond to me.

"H-husband?"

He takes my hand, taking a shaky breath from my lips along with him. He leads me to his claps and shows me how to undo them before releasing my hand to do it myself. I continue to undo all the claps until his armor is off him. When he is left in his shirt and trousers, he snatches my wrists before I can undress him any further. I freeze in my spot.

My belly churns at his touch. It is reminiscent of the times he has dragged me by the arm, and yet the firm grip is a notch gentler. The way is brows furrow is barely visible because of his burns, but I see it. He leans down and his dark hair spills over his scar, "do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

My breath hitches. I take a moment to even my breathing before responding, "yes."

He hums and lifts his nose, "what's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly. I am shocked when he swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

I look up at him with wide eyes as his own rake me up and down. I feel incredibly self-conscious under his scrutiny. I want to push him away and hide under the sheets. Yet still, I am rendered frozen in my spot.

"Tell me honest, have you ever done this before?" he speaks rather softly.

I feel my body burn. I shake my head, unable to speak.

Sandor allows me a second. He believes it yet finds it hard to believe. "I would not judge you if you did," he adds.

I shake my head faster.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't--" he grabs my ribs and spins me around. The action makes my heart hammer. He pushes my hair to the side, over my shoulder. I squeak softly when he begins to undo the back of my dress. He completes his thought, "-- you're a good girl."

Though he was loosening my ties, I was finding it harder to breathe. He very soon slips my dress off my shoulders, leaving me in my shift. After doing so, he begins to remove the pins in my hair. It takes a while for him to accomplish it. I count the clinks that come from him dropping the clips onto the floor.

When he is done, he gently combs through my locks and lets my hair run loose. It was then he nudges me, "on the bed. On your back."

I shudder and crawl on the bed. I watch him take his shirt off the moment I lie on my back. I immediately turn away and close my eyes when I notice his bulge. His hands undo the string of his trousers.

I press my thighs together. I feel my heart pound. It pounds intensely between my legs.

"Aren't you curious to see what it looks like?"

I curl my legs up at his words.

I gasp and flinch when he grabs my ankles, my eyes ripping open to see what he was doing. He straightens my legs out and pulls me down; I gasp once more when he does so.

I catch sight of his opened trousers. I see the way the hair on his wide, battle-scarred chest trails down to the thick, dark hair beneath his navel. I see the imprint on his pants clearer. I shut my eyes again.

I hear him pull his trousers down. I feel the bed dip as he crawls over.

My hands dig into the sheets as he knocks my legs apart. I am passive and obedient; I make room for him. I can hear my pulse from my screwed eyes.

Goosebumps form on my skin when Sandor's hot, calloused fingers brush up my thighs. He lightly kneads my flesh. The action almost makes me moan. He stops and pushes my skirt up when he feels something by my hips, "where did you get this?"

I feel him ghost over the deep scar on my left hip. I cover my face in the crook of my elbows, "I was attacked."

He does not respond.

"That was the day my family died."

Sandor feels bad for asking. He feels a bit more when the thought does not prevent his cock from hardening. He adjusts his grip, hiking my shift up higher. His hands claw on my hips but only one remains. His mouth waters.

I gasp and slap my thighs close, or at least try to, when I feel him brush something firm and damp against my pulsing core. He uses the sheer size of him to prevent me from actually pressing my thighs together.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh-" he tuts, "this is for your own good. Believe me."

My toes curl and my hands dig into my pillow as he fondles with me. The sensation makes my body twitch and the wet squelching sound that pierces my ears fill me up with an unnamable sensation. Soon enough though, I feel myself become undeniably aroused.

My hips begin to roll and my back begins to arch.

Sandor grunts and licks his lips, loving every moment of his private show, "good girl."

His words strike up my belly like lightning.

Lewd sounds begin to dribble past my lips. I feel my body begin to tingle. The sopping sounds intensify.

"Feel good?" he asks, "you like it?"

I find no room to deny it. I instantly respond, "yes."

"Good," he trails off.

My grip on the pillows loosen when he begins to slow. I bring my hands to the side when he falls to a stop. Just as I am about to look down to see what was wrong, my heart races all over again when he hooks his fingers behind my knees and nestles between my thighs. He positions against me. I feel him guide his hardened length into my folds.

I let out a loud groan when he slips into my wetness. He grunts and cusses as he sinks down, balls deep. My nails claw at his shoulders. He pushes my knees back to the mattress. Surprisingly, the weight of him is not suffocating, in fact, it was welcomed... it was delicious.

I whine viscerally when he begins to buck his hips slowly.

"Mmm, fuck," he pants, "so fucking tight. So pretty and wet and warm, my sweet virgin."

My jaw drops at his words.

"My sweet lady wife," he growls, "all," he drags out, "mine."

My breath strains and escapes my throat hotly. My sounds match each of his thrusts; they are deep and lewd. Sandor's male ego is through the roof because it if. He slowly picks up the pace.

I am a mess of whines at the feel his manhood stretching and prodding into me. My body shivers every time he collides with the tender spot in me. It feels so good; it's nothing I've felt before.

Sandor grunts and shifts on his knees. He adjusts me beneath him like I weighed nothing, and maybe I didn't to him. I slip out a scream when he batters into me with such delicious force.

"Shhhhh," he hushes shakily, hands forcing my hips down in place so I didn't shoot off as he snapped his hips into me. With every hit of flesh, his stones knocking into me, his wet skin, slapping into my dripping folds, I feel my body burn and tighten more.

"Don't be too loud," he scolds emptily, for in truth, he would love it if he got something even louder. He leans lower, "wouldn't want you to wake all of King's Landing." But please do.

His words momentarily push sense into my mind. It doesn't last. I can barely mask my loud cries and he fucks into me. My nails dig into his scalp. He lets out a sound because of it.

Sandor shifts again. This time, his buries his face next to mine. He presses against me, chest to chest, grabs the bed frame with one hand, my knee with the other, and rams into me so hard, the bed creaks and knocks into the wall.

My eyes roll back and my open mouth latches onto his shoulder. I naturally then sink my teeth in is taut flesh. It does wonders to muffle my sounds but it pulls out some from Sandor.

"Gods, girl. Yeah," he heaves, "sink your," he gives two particularly rough thrusts, "fucking teeth into me."

My breathing grows erratic after this. An intense pressure begins to build in my belly.

"S-Sandor- Sandor-"

He hums and maintains his intense pace, "come girl. Just a bit more. Come around my cock like a good, dirty girl."

His words push me on the edge. I crumble and convulse beneath him exactly like it, a good, dirty girl. My voice is just as shaky as my thighs are. My body bursts into an intense, burning pleasure.

My body drips in sweat and slick and spit and tears, all purely out of bliss. All the air is pulled out of my lungs as I fall into this feeling.

Sandor curses. His thrusts grow erratic. I would scream if I wasn't so winded and exhausted. He stabs so roughly into me, I flinch because it feels like he's hitting the very depths of my mind. Then, he breaks into a growl and I feel him throb so strongly until his movements come to a halt.

Once he is still, I am obliterated. I cannot move. I can only feel heat and pulsing. I feel terribly sticky and so full. I love every inch of it.

I sigh and lean into him. I can imagine now why many paid for this pleasure, why people had so many children. My fingers scratch into his nape. I rub my face against his cheek; I feel the texture of his burn. Sandor stiffens.

The next moment, he pulls away, and it was then I realized doing that, nuzzling into him, was obviously a mistake. I gasp at the sudden lost of contact, the emptiness. I watch him jump out of the bed, as if I was fire and I had burned him. I press my thighs together and push my skirt down, feeling shame wash over me as I watched him tuck himself into his trousers like he was eager to leave me.

And he looked exactly like he meant to leave me at this moment.

"Where are you going?" I ask him, but my voice is so small and unsure that he doesn't hear it.

He grabs his shirt and puts it on. He heads to the door, unlocks it quickly, and insults me by saying, "good night."

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netherfeildren · 2 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it.

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves.

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady.

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon.

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull.

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set.

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right.

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped.

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him.

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything.

The two of you, like grief and the mountain.

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself.

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be.

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled.

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking.

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs.

A friend, indeed.

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots.

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?”

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were?

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face.

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one.

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you.

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship.

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand.

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe.

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk.

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small.

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can.

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts.

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down.

“What’ve I told you?” He barks.

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian.

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame.

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his.

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate.

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially.

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years.

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly.

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face.

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins.

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest.

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes.

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go.

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.”

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company.

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night.

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated.

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue.

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half.

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man.

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly.

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep.

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it.

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward.

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears.

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal.

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly.

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here.

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions.

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber.

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons.

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now.

Your desire.

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?”

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still.

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again.

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher.

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically.

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now.

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor.

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that—

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man.

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive.

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand.

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting.

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words.

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive.

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust.

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want.

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does.

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.”

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs.

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh.

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you.

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display.

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury.

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence.

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.”

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him.

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact.

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls.

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him.

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand.

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears.

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard.

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter.

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before.

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it.

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him.

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue.

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String.

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other.

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid.

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you.

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight.

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath.

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles.

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself.

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

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okaylorrainee · 1 year

Text

words never said

characters. lo’ak & female omatikaya reader.

genre. romance. angst

synopsis. arranged as a mated pair, lo’ak never focused on becoming a good husband for you and often pushed away your feelings for him. only when you’re dying in his arms did he realize what he was losing, but it was all too late.

contains. aged up characters (adults). ooc most likely. character death. unhappy marriage. the sullys never went to awa’atlu. the clan still lives in hometree.

note. counting this as my 180+ followers special ! hehe. i hope you guys learn something from this :p let me know your thoughts! (but don’t be mean i am weak)

also on ao3!

a shawl made of leaves wrapped around your form as you stood silently in the middle of your kelku, watching your mate frantically search for his battle gear. jake sully had called the warriors again for another raid against the sky people who were planning to take over yet another area in your clan. the raids have been happening quite frequently now, and being the son of the olo’eyktan himself, lo’ak, your mate, was expected to participate in all of them.

you grew worried every moment he wasn’t here. you prayed to the great mother he’d come back to you in one piece, safe and sound, but you knew it wouldn’t always be possible. every time the war party came back, someone would be gravely injured. most of the time, a couple of them wouldn’t even return - their corpses lying cold on the battlefield.

thankfully, your husband was a great warrior. although he was reckless and often didn’t follow jake’s orders, he was witty enough to survive all the hits and attacks of the humans, and also, your brother-in-law, neteyam, would always be there to keep him in check. not once did lo’ak return with a fatal injury, but still, you couldn’t help but worry.

in front of you, lo’ak grunted, securing his battle band around his waist. he grabbed his hunting knife from the ground and wiped away litters of dust the blade caught from lying on the floor. his brows formed wrinkles on his face as he frowned, and you didn’t really know why he was upset again right now.

“please be careful, ma’yawntutsyip.” you uttered softly, but he didn't reply nor look at you. even if it was usual for him to do this, it still hurt you. you tried not to mull over it too much.

still ignoring you, lo’ak turned his back on you as he moved to exit. he was leaving again to battle without saying anything, while you were here, dying with concern over his safety. it pained you so much how it seemed like he didn’t care about you every second of every day since you were mated. but you still loved him anyway. he was your mate, your husband, your second half.

before he could completely leave you, you took the chance to say, “i love you, lo’ak.” something you never failed to tell him every day, just to remind him that you were here, that he had you to come back home to. “please, will you say it back just this once?” it took every bit of your strength to plead to him, you just wanted to hear him say it.

your words made him stop in his tracks. he turned his head to the side to spare you a glance, and you tried to fight his cold eyes. you saw how he clenched his jaw as if he was going to say something, but he sighed and turned away before he could. saying nothing else, he marched out of your kelku.

you felt your whole body relax as soon as he left, you didn’t even notice how tense you were while he was here. still standing in the same spot, you looked around your kelku. some stuff were disordered from how much lo’ak moved them around while he was searching. when the air entered from the opening of your kelku and touched your skin, the heaviness of your heart became difficult to ignore, and you simply inhaled deeply to try to calm yourself down.

tears started welling in your eyes and your lips quivered. you were upset. so so upset at how cold and lonely you felt in your own home right now, so upset that you have to clean up all of these cluttered things as if you were once again fixing up the mess that was your union with lo’ak.

you tried to keep your sobs quiet as you knelt to pick up the things your husband didn’t bother to put back properly. it was always like this with him. while he never yelled at you nor physically hurt you, lo’ak also was never affectionate to you. it was like he wasn’t even your mate. it was like he was just living with you in the same home, sleeping in the same mat and hammock. it was like he never acknowledged you as a lover with how cold he was towards your advances.

you envied the other couples who would profess their love, kiss and hug, and reassure each other every time the other went to battle. why couldn’t lo’ak just love you, try to, or even pretend to?

from what you knew, to him, you were just someone his parents tied to him for life in order to keep him ‘in place’, to show the people that he is a desirable son and son-in-law like his older brother, to make the people know lo’ak is capable of finding a mate and providing for her and for a future family.

and you understood how he felt and why he was like this to you. you convinced yourself really hard to. every night when you lay beside him whilst he slept soundly next to you, you were crying to yourself, trying to understand that he was still just busy proving himself to his father, proving himself to the people that he could catch up to his older brother, proving to everyone that he wasn’t just some rash failure. you understood why he couldn’t focus on you, even if you were his wife.

as a husband, lo’ak never fulfilled his marriage duties. he only mated with you once and never again, and that was during the ceremony in front of eywa. many of your heat cycles have passed but he never touched you no matter what you did. you often wondered if it was because he had his eyes on someone else. but you’ve confirmed long ago that lo’ak never flirted with the other women in the clan. he was simply too busy with the war and with proving himself, but you loved him all the same because you supported your husband, you only hoped he’d love you back one day.

hours have passed since he left. while he was gone, you decided to stock up on some fruit by yourself. you could’ve joined the other women who were also waiting for their mates, but you wanted to be alone so you could think and calm down. you were solemn the entire time, even as you returned back home with your basket full of his favorite fruit.

at the moment, you were sitting quietly in the middle of your kelku, weaving a new mat for lo’ak so he could rest in a clean one once he got home. but the silence didn’t last long when it was interrupted by the stomping feet and crying of a child running to your home. all at once, you dropped everything and hurried to the child’s side, gently taking her into your arms.

you cupped her face and looked at her with eyes full of worry, “what is the matter, ‘evi? why are you crying?”

the little girl continued to sob in your arms. “my brother, please. the tawtute.” her sentence was incomplete, and she was crying uncontrollably but the words ‘brother’ and ‘tawtute’ were all you needed to hear to understand what was going on - the sky people were near, and her brother was in danger.

your breath hitched but you tried not to panic. what were you going to do now? you were not a warrior. you were just a common clan member whose role is to weave clothing and collect fruit for the people. but you knew how to shoot an arrow as it was required to come-of-age, and you knew it was enough to at least help and stand up for this little child and her brother. she came to you because your kelku was the nearest, and there was no time to look for someone else. as an adult of your clan, it is your duty to protect them.

with a deep breath, you pulled away from her and quickly took the old bow and arrow sitting next to your shared mat with lo’ak. gripping its handle tightly, you said, “take me to him.”

the little girl wasted no time in dragging you with her deeper into the forest. you weren’t sure where she was leading you. every step you took made you grow more anxious about what you were going to face.

soon enough, you heard the sound of running water nearby, and you understood that a waterfall was just here somewhere. the little girl suddenly stopped running in front of you, and she tugged your arms, giving you a look to tell you that you were here.

you heard the voices of male humans chattering in the vicinity, talking about ‘dna’ and ‘new avatar’ in their language. you couldn’t understand what they were saying and only those three words gave you the gist of what they were talking about. even if your husband was quite fluent in the language of those demons, you still didn’t understand. lo’ak never taught you after all. but all that matters right now is getting her brother back, you could worry about the rest later on.

you bent your knees slightly to meet the child’s eyes. placing your palm on her head, you whispered. “go hide. i will take care of everything.”

still with tears in her eyes, she nodded at you before running back to one of the trees behind you.

you took a deep breath before stealthily approaching the voices. your steps were gentle as you crouched, the crunch of the leaves you stepped on was non-existent as you made your way closer. as soon as the soldiers came into view, you took a while to observe the situation. the na’vi boy was tied up, back faced to you, and two humans were in front of him, armed with large guns scouting the area.

you quietly moved and hid yourself behind the tree that was next to you. with your back pressed on its trunk, you took your arrow and started positioning your bow. you can do this, you can do this. you encouraged yourself in your head. there are only two of them. to you, the humans themselves weren’t scary, they were a lot smaller than you after all. just one harsh slap and you could make them fly away. it was their weapons that concerned you, you didn’t understand how they worked.

you held your breath as you stepped away from the tree, arms raised whilst you aimed at the human. you planned to shoot them consecutively before they could react with their weapons, you knew you could do it. and so, without further hesitation, you released the arrow and allowed it to fly through the air, stabbing the human right on his head.

the man hadn’t even dropped to the ground when you took another arrow and stretched your bow to aim at the other one. again, you shot the man on his head, and you watched as both of their bodies collapsed on the ground with a thud.

you sprinted to the boy’s side, who began crying from relief the moment he saw you. when you knelt in front of him, you immediately started to untie him from the ropes, reassuring him that he was safe now and to not worry. as soon as the boy was free, he tackled you into a grateful hug, sobbing into your arms.

“mawey, mawey.” you patted his back, carefully pulling him away from you. “we need to go. more of them will come. go!”

he was nodding as he stumbled standing up. you gestured for him to run, and he obeyed, darting to the direction of hometree.

you stood up to trail behind him. but before you could even walk another step, a loud mechanical thud was heard from behind you. you grew cold, already aware of what that was. you spun around reluctantly and were met with a soldier in an amp suit aiming his firearm right at you.

what happened next was a blur. you didn’t have the time to grab your bow nor react, because when his weapon erupted a loud bang, it was already over for you.

–

the ikrans shrieked as they landed on the branches of hometree. the war party was surrounded by a crowd of family members, all looking for their warriors in worry and anticipation of their return. lo’ak, who was in between his father and older brother, dismounted his ikran as his eyes searched for a particular na’vi among the people.

he puffed out a disappointed breath when he couldn’t find who he was looking for. were you mad at him because he didn’t say ‘i love you’ back earlier? this wasn’t new to your relationship, so what was different now? you never missed his arrival. were you finally getting tired of him?

lo’ak’s lips pursed as he followed behind jake through the horde that was their clan members. neteyam who was walking beside lo’ak, felt his younger brother’s sour mood but he decided not to mention it anymore. the entire day and weeks before having been stressful enough. with the raids going on and lo’ak constantly going to him for advice about his marriage, neteyam knew if he dared to bring it up, it would only make his brother appear more upset in front of you once he got home.

as the three of them made their way through hometree, they came across a young na’vi boy wailing in the corner, circled by a few other adults who were trying to calm him down. jake didn’t hesitate to go near them.

“what’s going on here?” jake asked, his two sons standing with him on both sides.

the boy wiped his tears away, trying to meet the eyes of his olo’eyktan. “s-soldiers ambushed me.” he wanted to explain more, but his voice was shaking, and it was all he could say.

“where?” neteyam leaned forward to join the conversation.

“near the waterfall.” the boy sobbed. “i was able to escape because my sister called for help.”

“help? who helped you?” lo’ak asked.

everyone fell oddly silent from his question that it made jake and neteyam look around in confusion. lo’ak raised an eyebrow, waiting for the boy to answer. “well?” he urged him to reply.

the boy only hid himself in the arms of the na’vi who was comforting him, sobbing louder than earlier. what could he say to the husband of the person who saved him? when it was already clear to him what happened when a bang echoed through the forest?

the people looked at lo’ak with sympathy, and he stared at them one by one, trying to process and understand what their expressions meant. he grew cold every second when none of them uttered anything. what were they doing? why were they looking at him like this? like they were apologizing?

lo’ak’s expression darkened. your absence, their apologetic looks. it couldn’t be, right?

he released a deep exhale as he straightened his back. lo’ak’s world stopped as realization struck him. suddenly, everything was silent. he couldn’t hear the child’s sobbing, the people talking around him, and neteyam calling his name from literally right beside him. all he could hear was a long high-pitched ring on his ear, and there was a string in front of him ready to snap any second.

his lips were parted as he breathed heavily, trying to calm himself whilst he turned and walked away from them without a word. jake was calling him but he ignored and continued to his ikran. you? you helped that boy? you weren’t a warrior. how could you fight? lo’ak’s jaw clenched as he thought about it.

neteyam hurried to lo’ak’s side, grabbing his arm to catch his brother’s attention. “bro, calm down.”

lo’ak snapped his head at neteyam, eyes burning in anger. “calm down? how can i? my wife, my mate. she is in danger!” his voice raised, catching the attention of almost everyone around them. lo’ak harshly pulled his arm back from neteyam, and all the man could do was stand there dumbfounded.

jake nodded to neteyam with a knowing look as lo’ak mounted his ikran in front of everyone. the animal shrieked louder than ever, mirroring the burning anger of its rider. and as lo’ak commanded his companion to fly away, jake and neteyam ran to their ikrans and followed suit to fly to you.

lo’ak couldn’t think straight as he flew, and his ikran could feel it. his blood was cold, and he was shaking in worry. he was hoping, praying to the great mother silently in his head that he understood their looks wrong and it wasn’t you who he was going to find there. that you were just asleep in your home, tired from weaving, and that’s why you weren’t there earlier when he arrived. lo’ak was sweating, even as the cold air ran through his skin as he flew - he didn’t know what he would do if it was really you.

for the past few weeks, lo’ak had been visiting his older brother, asking him for advice on how to make things better for your relationship. neteyam was always the better one, and even lo’ak couldn’t disagree with that. lo’ak knew that he struggled with expressing his emotions and with controlling the relationship especially because it started out rough when he initially didn’t want to be with you. he was hoping his brother could help him sort his thoughts out, or at least, help him form better words to explain and plan out the slow change he wanted in your marriage.

lo’ak learned to love you as months with you went by. at first, he thought you were pretending to love him and that you were settling for him because he was used to the others mocking him for not being as great as his older brother. but lo’ak saw how genuine, kind, loving, and caring you were towards him - how could he not fall?

lo’ak treated you harshly because he felt bad that you were tied to a failure like him. he wanted you to find someone better so you could be happier, because he was still in the process of finding himself. but lo’ak knew that deep down, he couldn’t really let you go. just thinking about you being with someone else irked him so much, he would rather be skinned alive than to live through a day seeing you with another man. and so, lo’ak built up his courage, and tried so hard to prove himself to everyone, so that one day, he could love you, and nobody else would be worthy enough for you than him. after all, you were his mate, his wife, his second half.

lo’ak, neteyam, and jake arrived by the waterfall just in time when a soldier in an amp suit was picking you up with its hands, motioning to walk away from the scene.

lo’ak’s eyes glowered at the sight, blood boiling as he became angrier. your limbs were swaying as the metal suit held you, and lo’ak knew you were unconscious. his ikran glided through the air at immense speed as he yelled from his throat, taking his bow out and aiming the arrow straight at the soldier inside the suit.

the amp suit collapses in an instant when the arrow stabbed through the human’s head. the sudden motion made the suit’s arm throw your body into the air, and you fell harshly on the ground with a cruel sound.

lo’ak kept his eyes only on you when his ikran eventually landed, jake and neteyam right behind him. lo’ak practically jumped off of his ikran as he rushed to your side. from his rear, jake was in the background ordering neteyam to scout the area and look if other soldiers were around, but lo’ak ignored them and only focused on you.

lo’ak knelt beside you, grabbing your arm as he assessed your body. jake towered behind lo’ak, and he could only watch sadly for his son - he knew that from how you looked right now, you were already dead even before they arrived, but he couldn’t bring himself to point that out to his grieving son.

“no, no, no. please, please.” lo’ak shook his head, refusing to believe the state you were in right now - blood running from your mouth and everywhere else that was shot in your body. this was the first time you could’ve heard the concern in his voice for you, but you couldn’t.

lo’ak began tearing up at the sight of you, and he forced his tears away so he could assess your face better for any sign of life. “you’re not dead, you’re not dead.” he repeated to himself as if he was convincing himself.

when you didn’t answer a word nor any movement, his grip tightened on your cold hand, and he yelled a cry. it was the first time jake saw his son cry that much. “please come back to me, baby, please!” he pleaded, hands moving to cup your cheeks. but your lifeless eyes only stared back at him.

i love you, lo’ak. please, will you say it back just this once?

“i see you, i love you! i always have, please!” he wailed the words he never said, the words you have longed to hear. but it was too late, your arms were limp, and you weren’t responding; you couldn’t hear him anymore. your body was turning cold every minute that was passing; you were dead and no matter how much lo’ak pleaded and cried beside you, you weren’t going to come back. he knew this, but he was refusing to accept it.

jake could only watch as lo’ak started to yell out his cries.

the regret of being too late, the regret of losing his other half forever, the regret of never giving you the love you deserved, the regret of never saying the words you deserved to hear - would eat lo’ak up for the rest of his life, because you died never knowing how much he loved you too.

©️ okaylorrainee 2023. please do not re-upload, translate my content anywhere without permission.

tell the people you love that you love them before it's too late!

#loreraine #wordsneversaid #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak sully #lo'ak x you #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #avatar 2 #atwow angst #atwow loak #angst #lo'ak x omatikaya! reader

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ineylesian · 7 months

Text

$TING — GRAVES & ADLER

KINKTOBER PROMPTS | Interrogation

AO3 | MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

DEBRIEF | Graves’ and Adler’s means of getting information out of you.

WARNINGS | smut, finger fucking, light choking, use of aphrodisiac, depiction of an unhealthy relationship, fem! reader.

NOTE | this is me holding back from writing Graves & Adler smut where they just bully the reader,, thinking about it but i have self control… included adler for the small handful of people who love him as much as i do 🫶

ADVISORY | NSFW CONTENT BELOW.

GRAVES, FOXY & ADAMANT.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here, sugar.”

His figure is barely visible, carolina hues basking in feverish light. You nearly wince at his tone, all too familiar— memories rush back and you scowl his way.

“Didn’t expect you to chase a paycheck.” You fire back, hands rubbing against thick cord. “You’ve changed.”

Graves steps forward, swallowing the light, staring you down like he’s picked up the scent of prey on the wind. Dust swirls through the air as he bends over, face stopping mere inches from yours. His tongue pokes at the hollow of his cheek, eyebrows knit together, watching.

Something in him still doesn’t understand it. Traces of his life he’s desperately chased whole, right where he wants you. However, something’s different this time. When he looks in your eyes, he can only see the enemy staring back.

It pushes him to no end. Control slips away from his hands and just as he thinks he’s getting somewhere, the chair you sit on hits the floor loudly and you’re pinned against the wall. He sees you smile and his grip tightens, closing around your throat in an attempt to kill the remains of you that float amidst his head.

You keep looking at him, and his resolutions fall against the floor he stands on. The gleam in your eyes reflects off of years passed, and he senses the approach you take before you speak.

“You’re Shepherd’s bitch, Graves.”

Playing dirty, as always.

“I’m no one’s bitch. But you…?” The reply pools off of his lips, cool and relaxed, running a hand down your neck. “Still miss me, Mrs. Graves?”

He smirks, lightly jingling your dog tags.

“You got yourself caught.”

You scoff, shifting against the wall. Graves’ thigh pushes against your pelvis, keeping you in place.

“Wouldn’t have been any fun if you never got what you were looking for.”

His head tilts to the side, eyeing you carefully.

“Are you saying I wouldn’t have been able to find you?”

You lean forward, lips brushing against his. Danger flicks between your gazes, but he doesn’t push away.

“I’m telling you.”

Graves’ lips are rough, as is the grip that holds you against concrete. You writhe in his grasp, moving so your arms can hook around his neck. Gunpowder kisses your tongue, the scent of war tickling your nose as he kisses you. Light stubble scratches your skin, opposed to the clean shave you feel in your dreams.

You allow him to strip you of your belt, canines pressing against the inner flesh of your mouth when he tugs at your fly. A smile creeps along his face, pulling away from your lips to study your face. You’re nearly the same as he remembers, so dangerous, yet holding the same dumbstruck look in your eyes whenever he touches you.

“Ever thought of renewing your vows?”

Rough, padded fingers circle around your clit as he tugs his other gloves off. The noise that comes out of you is caught between a laugh and a moan. Graves smirks at the sound, breath pooling against your neck as he replaces his gloved hand with his bare one.

“Maybe.” You shrug, groaning at the sudden intrusion of his fingers against your cervix. “What’s my price?”

Graves’ fingers rub your walls, and you start to burn up. You direct your gaze to his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his dick considers your question. Sweat gathers at your temple, and you bite down on your hand when he adds another finger.

It feels like it did 10 years ago. You and your husband, holed up in a shitty base in a shitty town fucking like it’s your last day on earth. You reminisce on those days often, back when Graves was still a marine and had a ring sitting on his finger. Back when Shepherd was off his radar, before he took you off of his too.

He looks slightly older; scar lighter on his skin and faint wrinkles crawling against the corners of his eyes. The way he fucks you is still the same, impatient and needy, just how you like it.

Before you know it, your abdomen feels likes it’s twisting into knots and you cry out from the pleasure. A low groan pushes its way out of his throat, canines fastened to his lower lip as his fingers pump in and out of your pussy.

“Another round, maybe?” He grunts out, mindlessly pushing his erection against your naval. “That’s cheap, ain’t it darlin’?”

ADLER, DECEITFUL & COY.

“Package came in from labs, thought you’d wanna see it.”

You round the corner of the hall, seeing Adler perched up against the island in your kitchen. A small, plastic bag sits on the side nearing you, adorned with a CIA label.

“Huh.” You hum, pinching the seal between your fingers. “You know what it’s for?”

Adler shrugs, and you tilt your head in acknowledgment.

“Only one way to find out.”

You can feel Adler’s gaze on you, watching through a pair of clear lensed aviators. He’s leaning against the edge of the counter, seemingly over interested in the contents of the bag. A light crackle emanates from the bag as you open it, and you’re hit with a puff of a silver toned dust.

“Jesus.” You cough, subconsciously dropping the bag to wave a hand through the air. “What the Hell is this, Russ?”

Adler stays quiet, perched up against the wall with his hands folded between his chest. His lack of response tells you all that you need to know, and you scoff.

Then the worry sets in.

You feel a subtle heat crawling up your arms, seemingly moving its way up to your face through your veins. Within seconds, your entire body behinds to tingle. Your body feels hot, almost like you’re covered in layers that are glued to your skin.

The world is loud, nerves burning against your spinal cord as confusion races through your mind. You run your hands through your hair, feeling a distinct sensation pool in your abdomen; it takes root, leaking down to your naval.

Through the rushes of blood in your head, you can hear Adler’s shoes click against the floor. The sound makes your stomach churn with need, and you look at him, standing just a few inches away.

“Adler..” You call, reaching out for him. “Something’s— wrong. Help me..”

You sway, losing balance and falling forward. Adler breaks your fall, holding you against the ridge of his turtleneck. You cling onto him as if you’ll die if you let go, eyes opening only when you feel yourself being set down on the couch.

Adler kneels in front of you, catching the hand that paws at his waist. He runs a hand along your face, lips quirking at the balm encasing his fingers. You reach out again, and he makes no motion to stop you.

“Didn’t see this as an interrogation drug.” He mumbles, allowing you to tug at his zipper. “Fuckin’ freaks.”

Your mind is completely lost to him, focused only on the hem of his jeans. An animalistic desire scalds your nerves, and you whine as he pushes you against the edge of the couch.

“It burns, Russ.” You groan, bucking your hips up as he moves to unbutton your jeans. “I need you…”

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

His hands smooth over your pussy, fingers dragging over your clit, adding a teasing flick as he thinks. You lock your legs around his back, attempting to force him into you as your hands palm his dick. Adler clicks his tongue, slowly pushing one of his fingers into you, deciding to test the waters.

“What did you dream about last night?”

“You.” Your voice comes out strangled, practically squeezing his cock in desperation. “I always do.”

His eyebrows raise in interest, finding this drug more useful than dozens he’s used in the past. Shame it had to be tested on you, though. Or.. maybe he was enjoying this a little more than it seemed.

Adler lets you pull him forward, fingers pulling out of your pussy as you sloppily stuff yourself with his cock. He bites down on his cheek as you rut against his hips, searching for friction.

“Tell me,” He continues, placing a hand behind your back to guide you as he lays down. “What am I doing in your dreams?”

“You’re.. ugh— you’re fucking me, Russ.” You moan, dragging yourself down on his cock. “The real you never has time for me— anymore.”

He tilts his head at your confession, reaching over to the coffee table for a pack of cigarettes.

“We’ll see to that.”

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

#arqhms #🎃 arqhmskinktober23 #🎃 arqhmsfall23 #arqhmsthirst #call of duty modern warfare #graves x reader #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut #graves smut #russell adler #adler x reader #russell adler x reader #phillip graves #graves mw2 #call of duty cold war

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m-jelly · 8 months

Text

Tea for two - Chapter 9

Pairing: Post-war Levi x Fem!Reader

Tags and warnings: Canon world, post-war, injured Levi, scarred Levi, romance, falling in love, fluff, angst, emotional pain, emotional Levi, dad Levi, baby.

In this chapter: You are attacked on your way home to Levi, but Levi saves you. Levi surprises you with a gift he's made before you two enjoy a swim right as the baby decides it is time to arrive. You and Levi have a sweet moment together on your date out with the baby.

AO3 Link

The end

Levi winced a little as he limped after you. “Darling, don’t go.”

You fixed your little cape and turned to him to show off your big baby bump. “I have to get some stuff for you.”

He sighed. “I know, but…”

You cupped his face and kissed him. “Go in your wheelchair.”

Levi welled up a little. “I haven’t used that in months. I don’t want to go back.”

You wrapped your arms around Levi and hugged him tightly. “I know, but you’ve hurt your knee.”

“I pushed myself too hard when I trained with your dad.”

You led him to his chair and sat him down. “Levi, there is nothing wrong with not feeling strong sometimes. You can’t always be one hundred per cent.”

He held your hand. “I understand, but you need to rest too.”

“The baby and I will be perfectly okay.” You kissed his forehead. “I’ll go buy your meds and some nice baked goods and I’ll be right back.”

He sighed. “Okay. Kiss.”

You giggled and kissed him. “Love you.”

“Love you always, Mrs Ackerman.”

You winked at him. “That’s right.” You grabbed your shopping basket and pulled your hood up. “Love you, Levi and our baby loves you too.”

Levi blew you a kiss. “Be careful.”

You waved to him before leaving the home. The air was nice and cool, but there was a threat of rain. You were hoping that your cape would protect you. Both you and Levi were excited to have a summer baby. The names you picked were perfect for a sweet baby. You were both hoping it was a girl so you could call her Kuchel. Kuchel was a wonderful mother to Levi. She reminded him of a flower, which bloomed the strongest in summer.

You gazed up when you heard a distant rumble. Thunderstorms were nice and relaxing when you were inside your home, but not so much when you were out and about. You were hoping that you could finish shopping before the storm arrived. You picked up the pace and made it to the pharmacy. You smiled at the man behind the counter who recognised you right away.

He hurried to the collection point and grabbed Levi’s medication. “Here you are, Mrs Ackerman. I’ll also get you some stuff for you and the baby, free of charge.”

Your cheeks burned at his kindness. “Oh, thank you so much.”

“Not a problem. Least I could do for the wife of the amazing Captain.”

You placed the meds in your basket as you felt a little awkward. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

“Take care now, all right? It looks like there is a storm coming.”

You bowed your head to him. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

The air was still outside, which concerned you because it meant the storm was getting closer. You hurried to the bakery and picked a few nice things for Levi and you to share. The last stop was to get something for Bo because he deserved a treat. You picked a few things and became distracted by a baby shop. You slipped inside and bought an adorable blanket, along with things that had references to Daddy.

“Unbelievable.”

You turned and gazed at your ex-best friend. “Claude.”

He scrunched his nose up at you. “I cut ties with you because you got involved with that foul man. I went to your home to forgive you, but you weren’t there.” He glared at your swollen belly. “Are you fucking pregnant?”

You turned away from him and went to the till. You paid for everything as he shouted your name. You were done with this man and his insults towards your husband. You were just done and wanted to go home. Plus, your feet were killing you from carrying a baby in your belly. You tried to ignore Claude chasing after you as it started to spit.

Claude grabbed your upper arm. “Would you just talk to me!”

You yanked your arm from his grip. “I have nothing to say to you! You cut ties. You were done. Once you cut, there is no going back. Release me and leave me alone.”

“You married him. Is that his baby too?”

You placed your hand on your belly. “Yes, and this baby is ours.” You let out a long sigh. “I have to get home to my husband before the rain gets worse.”

Claude snarled as you started walking away. “Get back here! Don’t walk away from me!”

You moved a little faster. “Leave me alone! I’m done with you and you’re done with me. There is no use in chasing me down!”

Claude ran after you as he shouted your name over the pouring rain and thunder. “He will lead to your death.”

You stopped and turned in the street. “No. No, he won’t. Levi is an incredible man who I love with everything within me. You have no say in who I love. We are done as friends. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“I love you!”

You stared at Claude as he looked at you with pleading eyes. The rain was so loud and the thunder roared through the town. “You’re unbelievable. Do you think I’d fall for that? Even if that were true, do you really think I would drop everything and run into your arms? I want you out of my life.”

“I am not letting you go!”

“If you don’t let me leave, I will contact the authorities.”

Claude moved closer to you. “He’s controlling you.”

You let out a long sigh. “You are exhausting to talk to. I’m going home because I’m sure my husband is worried about me being in this storm.”

“Just listen to me.”

“Goodbye, Claude.”

Claude grabbed you by your upper arm and yanked you hard before releasing you due to the hard whiplash. He flinched when he heard a crack. Your head had hit the wall. Claude shook a little when you slumped to the floor. His heart jumped to his throat when he heard your name screamed by a familiar voice over the rain and thunder. Fear surged through him. Cautiously he turned to see Levi holding his cane with Bo at his side, both of them racing over.

Levi dropped to his knees and ignored the pain shooting through his left leg. He cradled your face and saw some blood. “Talk to me. Come on, darling.”

You opened your eyes and smiled softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t hurry home.”

“It’s okay.” He kissed your forehead. “It’s okay.”

“Claude stopped me from going home.”

Levi kissed you. “Sit there with Bo, okay?”

You hummed. “Okay.”

Levi rose to his feet and glared at Claude. He clenched his cane tightly as his rage consumed him. “What did you do?”

Claude shook in fear. Though he was taller than Levi, Levi was a very terrifying man because of how strong he was and how dedicated he was to justice and what was right. It was very clear to Claude that he was going to be beaten. The first smack hit him in the gut causing him to double over in pain. The second went up against his face sending him backwards and slamming against the floor. A strong and ball-breaking kick connected with his privates, he was sure something had ruptured.

You stumbled to your feet and whined. “Levi?”

Levi stopped his attack and turned to you. “Darling?”

You limped over to him. “Can we go home?”

He nodded and put his arm around you. “Use my cane and me.” He took your basket and held it in his other hand. “We need to get you home.”

You walked together in silence for a while as the storm grew closer. You gazed at Levi to see his stoic look, but you knew a lot was going on in his head. “Thank you for protecting me.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

“You’re the best. I love you.”

He smiled a little. “Love you always.” He unlocked the front door and helped you inside. “Go change.”

“Yes.”

Levi put the food away and quickly took his meds. He checked your basket and felt his heart flutter at the baby things. “Tch, adorable.” He sighed and looked at Bo. “Your mum is so cute.” He gathered the baby things and the first aid, along with a drink and meds. He moved into the bedroom to see you pulling on your night dress. “Ready?”

You sat on the bed and hummed. “Yes.”

He sat next to you and began cleaning your wound. “I haven’t done this in so many years.”

“Is it bringing back scout memories?”

Levi hummed a laugh. “Yeah, good ones as well. The cadets used to push themselves or do stupid shit during training.” He inspected the cute and saw it didn’t need stitches and only a patch. “I would patch them up.” He placed a patch on your head and handed you a drink and meds. “Hange would too, but seeing as they trained under me, I thought it was best for me to do it.”

You gulped down everything and sighed. “Thanks. I bet you were a wonderful Captain.”

“Sometimes.” He picked up the baby things. “These are adorable. You got all daddy things. What about mummy things?”

“Oh, well I might get those next time.”

Levi saw you fiddling with your dress, meaning you were anxious. He placed his hand on yours. “I’ll get them. I want to buy more for you and the baby.”

You laughed. “You spoil us plenty.”

“I need to spoil you more.”

You giggled as Bo nudged his face against your baby bump, so you fussed him. “All right. I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you.” He pulled his wet clothes off and changed into his night things. “I’ll sort out the washing.”

You hummed. “But your leg.”

He cupped your face and kissed the end of your nose. “You are far more important. Now, I need you to be a good girl and stay awake for a while.”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you have a headache?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

You grinned at him. “Yep! You know why?”

He smiled. “Why?”

“Because I want you to call me a good girl.”

Levi stared at you as his heart throbbed in his chest. “Now, those are some flirting words.”

You giggled. “I’ll behave 'cause we’re both unwell.”

He pressed the end of your nose. “Just wait until we’re better.”

You gulped hard as a tingle went through your body. You looked down at Bo as he gazed at you with his tail wagging. You hummed a laugh and petted him. “Your daddy is a wild man. I love it.”

Levi was in his massive back garden full of life. He was busy making something special with his carpentry skills. Being retired from the scouts and casually running his shop meant he had a lot of time on his hands. People need hobbies to keep them busy and it is fun to make progress. So, Levi started making things out of wood and had a great skill for it.

He shifted back from what he was making and admired his work. Sweat rolled down his back as the sun beamed down on him. He grabbed his rag and wiped his sweat a little. He grabbed a bobble, pushed his hair back and proceeded to tie it back into a little top knot with a few strands loose. He gripped his shirt and tugged it off. Sweat glistened on Levi’s muscles and scars.

“Sexy.”

Levi turned and gazed at you holding a tray of drinks. “Thank you.”

You waddled over to him and placed the tray down. “I could just take a bite out of you.”

“Please do.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “Mm, tasty husband.”

Levi squeezed your waist. “You’re the delicious one.”

“Thank you.”

He shifted his hands to cup your belly. “How are you and the baby?”

You grinned at him. “Perfectly well. I am fit to burst though.”

“The little one is overdue.”

“They are.” You sighed and rubbed your belly. “They’re not ready yet and that’s okay.”

He lowered his head. “Mm.”

You cupped Levi’s face and lifted. “I know, I know, you’re excited to meet them. You just have to wait a little longer. You can do that, right?”

Levi’s cheeks turned pink as he smiled. “Yes.”

“Good boy.” You looked around him. “What are you making?”

Levi shifted out of the way. “It’s for you. It’s a rocking chair for you to sit in with the baby. I can use it too, but I mainly made it for you for comfort.”

You welled up. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Levi.”

He held your hand and helped you sit in it. “Comfy?”

You hummed a laugh as you rocked back and forth. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “You did incredible.”

He knelt between your legs. “I’m glad.”

You reached over and petted Levi’s head. “You’re better than you think you are. You have such an amazing talent.”

He rested his head on your lap. “Thank you.” He looked over at Bo staring at him. “No, Bo, this is my lap.”

You giggled at Bo sulking. “You’re both very cute and funny.”

Levi pressed his face into your thighs and lap. “Comfy.”

“I was thinking we go for a swim today. I heard it’s good for pregnant ladies because it eases the weight they carry.”

Levi clenched up a little and lifted his head. “Yes, we’ll go for a swim. Anything to help.” He jumped to his feet and pulled you up. “Do you need help changing?”

You sighed. “I do.” You smiled at the rocking chair. “We should put this in the living room. It’s perfection.” You ran your fingers over the detailed etching. “I love it so much.”

“I’m glad.”

You jumped into Levi’s arms. “My talented and cool husband.” You covered his face in kisses. “Love you.”

“I love you.” He glanced and looked at the scar on your forehead. “Let’s get you in that nice cool water.”

You squealed in delight. “Yay!”

Levi ushered you into the house. “Go change and I’ll bring your chair in.”

“I’m gonna add a nice a nice blanket and cushion to that lovely chair.”

Levi blushed at how much you adored something he made you. He lifted the chair and set it in the living room. He added a cushion and a blanket that he knew you liked. “Darling? I made your seat extra comfy.”

You walked out in your swimming things and gazed at the rocking chair. You welled up at how cute it looked. “Oh…oh…oh, I love it!” You hugged Levi tightly. “You’re the best.”

Levi held you tightly. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll make more things.”

You smiled at him. “I love the cot you made our baby.”

Levi blushed bright red. “I’ll make them a rocking horse when they’re older.”

“That’d be perfect.”

He cupped your face and kissed you. “I’ll get changed. Rest for a bit, okay?”

You shifted and plopped yourself on the rocking chair. You moved back and forth as you felt yourself relax. “I love this chair. This might be my new favourite chair.”

Levi joined you and heard what you said. “You like it that much?”

“I do.”

“Mm…” He blushed a little. “I can’t get over this. Sorry, I keep asking if you like it, but I just need reassurance.”

You got out of the chair. “No need to say sorry. I’m the same with food I cook and bake.”

“I love all your baking and cooking.”

You giggled. “Thank you. Shall we take some food and drink?”

“I’ll pack, you rest.”

You huffed a little. “I want to do a few things.”

Levi chuckled as he started to get food and drink to put in a bag. “Well, you need to rest.”

You ran up behind him and grabbed his pecs. “Mean.”

He smiled when you bit his shoulder. “You’re adorable.”

“I love you.”

Levi turned in your arms and smiled at you. “I love you.”

You leaned closer and captured his lips in a sweet and loving kiss. “My Levi.”

He released a happy sigh. “Yours. Now, be a good girl and wait by the front door for me.”

Your cheeks burned at his words. “Yes, Levi.”

He packed the bag and made sure he had things for Bo. He pulled the bag on his back and walked over to you. “Ready?”

You grabbed his hand. “Yes.”

Levi led you through the front garden, across the road and down the beach path to the private spot he owned. He set up the seats always there and made sure yours was extra comfy. “Okay, it’s all ready.”

You pulled your beach dress off and kicked your shoes off. “I’m going for a swim!”

Levi huffed when he watched you hurriedly waddle to the water. “Be careful!” He yanked his shirt off and ran after you. “Troublesome brat.”

You giggled and flopped into the water causing Levi to be splashed. “Got ya!”

Levi dove under the water and swam up to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. The weight of the baby has been eased.”

He moved closer to you. “You’re so amazing. You carry and grow our sweet baby. They must be so heavy.”

You nodded. “Mm, that’s right.”

Levi moved behind you, linked his fingers together and raised your belly. “Oh wow, this is heavy. Our baby is a big one.”

You moaned in delight and leaned against Levi. “That’s incredible.”

Levi smiled and held your tummy. “I’ll do this for as long as you need.”

You closed your eyes and relaxed against him. “Thank you.” You frowned a little when you heard quiet splashing. You opened your eyes to see Bo paddling past. “He really loves the water.”

Levi chuckled. “It’s hard to keep him out.” He sighed. “Little bugger.”

You laughed. “He’s a happy boy. He’ll be a wonderful big brother.”

“I think so too.” Levi lowered your belly carefully, wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “This is the life. I never thought years ago this would happen to me. I thought I had lost everything, but you entered my life and brought light and life into it. You are truly my everything.”

You reached up and squeezed his upper arm. “I can tell you’re worried about something.”

“I am. I’m nothing without you and I know childbirth is a scary thing. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. I’m strong, Levi.” You turned in his arms and faced him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here with you, always.”

He lowered his head a little. “I so desperately want to be a father with you as the mother. However, there are fears and worries.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I understand. I’ll live and we’ll raise our baby together.”

“I just…I don’t want a repeat of my mother…”

You hugged Levi tightly. “I’ll stay with you until we’re very old with lots of grandbabies and great-grandbabies.”

Levi closed his eyes as he imagined it all. He smiled at the wonderful thought. “I can see it now. It’s just perfect.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot and me saying it’ll be all right won’t fix a thing.” You sighed. “But it really will be all right.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You hissed a little in pain. “Baby is having a little party.”

Levi placed his hands on your bump. “Relax, sweet little baby. Relax for momma.”

You winced again. “I don’t think it’s them causing this.”

Levi went white. “Are you?”

You groaned. “I don’t know, maybe?”

Levi scooped you up like a bride and ran with you to the shore. “We need to get to the hospital right away.”

“Levi, you don’t need to run with me. I can walk.”

“I know, but let me do this.” He gazed at you with pleading eyes. “Please.”

You smiled softly at Levi. “Of course, my grumpy. I’m all yours.”

The birth of your daughter Kuchel went smoothly, but Levi was a wreck. When he saw the blood and the mess that came from giving birth, his PTSD was triggered a little. You felt awful that your husband was in pain emotionally. Levi stayed strong though. He held your hand and breathed with you. He held his little girl in his arms and was speechless. Kuchel was perfect and healthy.

You took everything in your stride. Levi was in awe of you. He truly had a strong and brave wife. Though you went through a lot of pain, Levi was with you every step of the way. He helped you through your breathing and he was there to help you go to the toilet in the days after giving birth when everything ached.

Levi went into full caregiver mode. He made you rest as often as possible. He changed Kuchel, cleaned the house and did the cooking as you got all the rest possible to heal up. Your home was filled with laughter, love and sweet coos of a baby. You fell in love with Levi in a whole different way. There was just something about your husband holding his daughter and singing to her. He often rendered you speechless with how impressive he was at taking care of the baby. Levi Ackerman was a sexy dad.

Levi was deeply and completely enamoured by you. He too had fallen in love with you in a whole new way. The fact that you made a sweet baby, brought her into this world and was now caring for her was beyond incredible to him. You were this sexy goddess in his eyes that could create life. He was madly, deeply and hopelessly in love with you.

You rocked in your chair with Kuchel in your arms as she fed from you. Your hand lightly patted her as she happily fed with eyes closed. You felt the loving gaze of your husband upon you. You glanced up to see him staring at you from the sofa. You could have sworn Levi had hearts in his eyes.

You smiled at your husband. “Something on your mind?”

“You.”

You hummed a laugh. “I’m always on your mind.”

“Yes.”

You pulled Kuchel from you and helped her burp. “You’re a man of few words today.”

He moved over to you and took Kuchel so you could fix your dress. “I’m just…you render me speechless a lot.”

“You’re adorable.”

“I love you.”

You blushed a little. “I love you too.”

He gently rocked Kuchel in his arms. “Our daughter is so beautiful.”

You hummed a laugh. “She is. Do you want to go for a walk with her? It’s a nice day and I know Bo has been itching to get out.”

Levi nodded. “I’d like that.”

You got out of your seat and moved around the kitchen to get snacks for a little picnic. You glanced over at Levi as he walked over to the pram with his daughter. You smiled as Bo followed Levi. Ever since Kuchel was born, Bo had been at her side always. Bo used to sleep in your room, but now he slept with Kuchel and protected her. He was the best big brother to her.

You picked up the basket of food and walked over to your husband. “She ready?”

Levi smiled with pride as his little girl in her pram. “She’s all snug.”

You reached down and tickled her cheek. “Precious baby.”

“She’s so cute.”

You placed the basket in the bottom slot. “She’s adorable. All packed.”

Levi pushed the pram out of the home and smiled down at Kuchel as she looked around her in pure awe. He turned to you and pouted when you didn’t walk next to him. He blushed when you giggled and hurried right over to him. You shifted over and hugged his arm as you walked. Bo walked ahead and led the walk into the town. All attention was on the two of you. Most people couldn’t believe the famed Captain was now a father.

You gasped when you looked ahead at the park and saw the cadets having a little break. “Look, Levi. It’s the cadets you trained.”

Levi groaned. “I’m glad to see them, but I was hoping this would be a nice picnic as a family.”

You kissed Levi’s cheek. “We’ll say hello for a bit and then have our little family gathering.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Yes. Besides, I’m sure they’d love to see the baby.”

Levi blushed hard as he gazed at his little girl. “She is so beautiful. I do like showing her to people.” He smiled. “We made a wonderful baby.” Levi gazed at you. “You’re so incredible.”

You hugged Levi’s arm. “So are you.”

Levi pushed the pram over to the gang. “Morning all, I have someone for you to meet. Tch, try not to crowd her.”

Mikasa looked down at your baby and gasped in delight as a cute blush spread on her cheeks. “Baby.”

Connie shot to his feet. “Baby!? Captain had a baby!?”

Jean frowned. “How did you not know he was going to have one? I told you at their wedding.”

“Ooooooh, yeah I forgot.”

Armin smiled at your baby. “Beautiful.”

You scooped her up into your arms and showed her off. “This is Kuchel.”

Annie walked over and looked down at your baby from behind Armin. “Cute.”

Levi pulled you back and away from Annie, it was understandable that he still had issues with her. “How has everything been for you lot?”

Armin smiled. “Well. It has been hard work, but we’re getting there.”

You moved over to Jean. “I know you love babies.”

Jean blushed as he looked down at Kuchel. “So pretty.” He offered his finger to her and blushed harder when she held onto him. “This is amazing.”

You hummed a laugh. “She likes you. I bet you’d be a great uncle to her.”

“I will!”

Mikasa shifted over and lightly poked Kuchel’s cheek. “She’s so soft.”

You hummed a laugh. “She’s family to you, right? You’re a distant cousin to Levi.”

Mikasa nodded. “Yeah.” She welled up a little. “Family.”

“I’m sure you’ll care for her too, right?”

“Promise.”

Levi placed his hand on your back. “Darling?”

You smiled a little. “We have a little family date. So, we should arrange a time and date for us all to meet again. I think a nice little party should be good.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

You placed Kuchel back in the pram. “I’ll see you all soon. Let’s go, Levi.” You frowned as Bo was rolling on the grass with everyone fussing him. “Bo? Come on!”

Levi whistled causing Bo to run right over. “Good boy.”

You waved to the group and walked with Levi across the park to a nice shaded spot under a tree. Levi set the blanket up and the nice cosy spot as you gathered Kuchel in your arms. You sat down and lay her on a little bed Levi made her. You snuggled up to your husband once he joined you and relaxed together.

Levi pulled a face. “Do you think I did a bad thing back there? You know, running from them?”

“I think there is nothing wrong with it, grumpy. It’s okay.” You kissed his cheek. “Sometimes you need the company of those you hold dear and love.”

“Thank you for reassuring me.” He looked over at Kuchel giggling at Bo sniffing her. “Do you think Kuchel loves me?”

You gasped. “Of course! She adores you! As soon as she sees you she is so happy! I’ll prove it.” You picked up Kucel and angled her so she could see Levi. Kuchel smiled brightly and reached for Levi. “See? Now, I’ll cover her eyes.”

Levi moved closer. “Yeah?”

You hummed a laugh “She’s calm now, but then…” You lifted your hand. “Daddy!”

Kuchel blinked a few times before squealing and reaching for Levi. “Aboo!”

Levi chuckled. “She really loves me, huh?”

You handed Kuchel over. “She loves you more than anything.”

Levi cuddled his baby. “Oh, well I think she loves you more. I talk to her about you.”

You giggled. “I know, I’ve heard you.” You reached over as Kuchel lit up in delight and flopped her hand at you. “I’m right here, my little flower.”

Levi smiled as tears filled his eyes. “I’m happy, really happy. I am at a loss for words to explain how happy I am.”

You leaned closer and kissed Levi. “I feel the same. We have a long road ahead of us. Just wait for when she can run.” You laughed. “She’ll be running circles around you.”

“That’s a bit exciting. I can’t wait and for more kids, maybe?”

You nodded. “Yes. I would love more.”

#levi ackerman #levi #aot levi #snk levi #aot fanfiction #levi x you #fanfic #levi x y/n #levi fanfiction #levi x reader #dad!levi #levi x reader fluff #levi x yn #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #jelly fanfics

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smok3r7 · 4 months

Text

MAIN MASTERLIST

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Here's the link to my Ao3 also

- Joel Miller Stories -

Latching On To You (finished)

| Joel Miller x F!reader

Series summary: What happens when, after thirteen loving years of being with Joel, you start to feel like he’s slipping away from your grasp? How much of yourself will you lose because of the trauma your father put you through at such a young age? You could be wrong about Joel, but something is telling you otherwise - or are you just not healed enough to see past your own insecurities?

Is Leaving Even An Option? (finished)

Joel x F!reader

EXTREME TW: Extreme domestic abuse (verbal and physical), PLEASE READ WARNING BEFORE READING!!

Summary: Your days have become one in the same - even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson, being home is evidently worse. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

One Door Closes & Another One Opens (ongoing)

Joel Miller x OFC! Divorce Attorney

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and she gets to see this man fight for the safety of his ten year old daughter, Sarah. Will she be able to keep it professional? For her sake.

Christmas Getaway (One-Shot)

| Joel Miller x Softball Coach!F!reader

Summary: You met Joel by coincidence. You picked up a little side job to be a high school softball coach for fun, and Sarah was one of your top players. Sarah introduces you to Joel after the first game and both of you hit it off immediately. The three of you grow closer throughout the year and end up spending the holidays together on a getaway trip. Joel treats you to a nice night.

Three, Two, One - Draw! (One-shot)

Cowboy Joel x F!reader

Summary: In Tombstone, you’re the bartender at Wyatt Earp’s saloon, a favorite actually. You’re one of the fastest shooters in the west, having learned from the best - your brother, Doc Holiday. One night after your shift at the saloon, your husband Joel Miller, tells you he wants to practice your draw speed. However, he’s not talking about guns.

New Traditions // Valentine’s Day (One-shot)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: The last Valentine’s Day two years ago has shattered your view of the so-called holiday. When Joel brings up the idea, you shut him down immediately, but he doesn’t listen. He hopes he can change your opinion on the holiday of Love.

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- Aaron Hotchner Stories -

They Always Come Back (Ongoing)

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a couple decades you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

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dingusfreakhxrrington · 1 year

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Taming The Dragon

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: with war imminent, the greens know they need the support of the north and will stop at nothing to ensure their place on the iron throne

warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, fluff if you squint, troubled aemond, mentions of trauma, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of war, arranged marriage, cold and distant aemond, aemond is secretly soft for reader, canon divergent

word count: 4.8k

part 2 | part 3 (coming soon)

read on ao3

a/n: i am very much an ‘i can fix him’ girl so put that together with this show and this fic is the result

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

House Stark, the rulers of the North, had long since pledged their allegiance to Rhaenyra as the heir to the iron throne. With their loyalty, the entire North would follow, creating quite a problem for the Greens.

A problem many miles away, as most of the council had put it, but the queen mother knew better than that. She knew that a threat as strong as the North was not one they could leave unchecked, no matter how much distance was between them and King’s Landing.

Rhaenyra was already likely to control the Narrow Sea as it was likely she had support from House Velaryon after Princess Rhaenys fled King’s Landing, refusing the then queen’s generous deal, which also meant the Blacks had control of the vast majority of all remaining dragons. There was no room for error nor any reason not to at least make an attempt at gaining the support of one of the most loyal Houses in the Seven Kingdoms.

That is what first bought an envoy to Winterfell.

You had never had the pleasure of meeting a member of House Targaryen, they often had little reason to come to the North. Now, you supposed, there was a reason. You were no fool and neither was your brother, you both knew that a war was brewing. Still, you had little love for royal politics. When it came down to it, you would have much rather both sides have left your House, and consequently the rest of the North, out of it.

That, however, was evidently not going to happen.

As the queen mother herself was announced, she emerged from her carriage donning her signature green silk dress.

You watched from where you stood beside your brother as she approached and followed the pair inside after the exchange of greetings.

Obsevantly, you listened to her as she complimented your home and Cregan’s ruling of it.

“I am sure you already know why I am here so I will speak plainly. As you have heard, my son Aegon now sits the iron throne. Your father, the late Lord Rickon, pledged his fealty to Rhaenyra when she was named heir. Now I am asking you, Lord Cregan, to pledge your fealty to Aegon, true heir to the iron throne.”

You furrowed your brows, although you had to admit you were impressed by the queen mother’s boldness. You knew she was here to make an attempt to gain the support of your house but you had never expected that she would ask so plainly for your allegiance.

“The true heir? Princess Rhaenyra was named heir by the late king, not Prince Aegon.”

The queen mother bowed her head slightly at the mention of her lost husband before returning her gaze to you. “With his last breath, my husband announced that he wished for his firstborn son, Prince Aegon, to succeed him as ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

By the time she was done, her attention had fallen on your brother, the Lord of Winterfell, once again and you were so quickly reminded that she had not come all this way to speak to the both of you. She only needed Cregan’s support, after all.

“As you said, your grace, my father pledged his fealty to Princess Rhaenyra and House Stark always honour their oaths.”

The queen mother nodded to herself. “I understand your reluctance to go back on your father’s promise but that is just what is it, his promise. You, Lord Cregan, did not pledge your fealty to Rhaenyra and with the changing times, no one would fault you for rethinking your allegiances.”

You were already growing tired of all the goings back and forth, as was your brother, but it seemed the queen mother still had one final trick up her sleeve to win your brother’s support.

“I want to show you how much we value your House’s support which is why I did not come without a proposition. Pledge your fealty to King Aegon and I will offer my son’s hand in marriage to your sister, Lady y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you were suddenly thrust into a deal, your very own future on the line should your brother accept and, in a desperate attempt to remain where you belonged in Winterfell, you spoke before your brother had the chance, “The king is already married, is he not?”

“He is but it is not his hand I offer. Rather, I offer you the hand of Prince Aemond, rider of the oldest and largest dragon in all the Seven Kingdoms, Vhagar.”

Your brother narrowed his eyes, clearly in thought about the proposition. All you could do was sit in anticipation but you were certain your brother would not send you away to King’s Landing on nothing but a proposal of marriage.

Sensing the lack of interest in your brother, the queen mother decided to sweeten the deal. “I will also grant Lady y/n a dragon of her own upon her marriage to Aemond. There are unclaimed dragons in need of riders and as a member of House Targaryen, Lady y/n may have her pick of them should she wish it.”

It was a lucrative deal indeed but you were still not swayed, you would not so readily break your father’s promise.

“A most gracious offer, may you excuse us for a moment. Y/n is my only sister, you see, this is a proposition we must discuss amongst ourselves.”

His voice pulled down any false sense of security you once had as it was clear your brother was at least partial to the offer.

You followed quickly after Cregan as he left the room, opting for his quiet study to discuss the opportunity that had been set out before you.

“Brother you cannot seriously be considering her offer. Father made an oath to serve Rhaenyra as queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“A dragon, y/n. She’s offering you a dragon. Not just that but her son’s hand in marriage. You will be a princess,” he argued, his ambition overflowing.

With a frown, you shook your head. “What good is there in becoming a princess if war is only to break loose? We cannot know who will be the victor, who will sit the iron throne once it is all over.”

Cregan placed his thumb and forefinger to his chin, mimicking the wisdom your father once had. “You are right, we cannot know but if we accept their proposal you will own your own dragon. Not to mention Prince Aemond rides the largest and oldest dragon in all the Seven Kingdoms. You will be safe, sister.”

“I am safe here, in Winterfell where I belong. By your side.”

Unfortunately, your brother had already made up his mind. He had always had a great interest in dragons and knew he could not turn down the offer for a Stark to have a dragon of their own.

“We cannot refuse their offer, sister. I am sorry but we must do what is best for our house. You will go with the queen mother to King’s Landing and you will marry Prince Aemond. Take Frost with you, I have no doubt the presence of your dire wolf will help you feel closer to home while you are away.”

You bit back whatever argument you wanted to throw back at him and made a feeble attempt at a smile. It was obvious Cregan felt guilty about making you take such a big sacrifice for your family but someday you would have to marry a lord of one of the other houses anyway. Marrying a prince of the Seven Kingdoms was an opportunity that couldn’t be passed up, you knew that. Even if you did not want to go.

“As you wish.”

The journey to Kings Landing was a swift one. The queen mother was adamant that no unnecessary stops were made so you rode until the horses grew tiresome and then you rode some more.

She was also insistent that you ride alongside her in her carriage so that she could spend some time getting to know her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. That, however, seemed short-lived as your conversations drew stale after merely an hour. You stuck to pleasantries and answered her questions as well as you could but once the questions about your home and your life before ceased there was little more for you to talk about.

The queen mother eyed your dire wolf as he sat beside you. She was impressed with how obedient the creature was but she was no newcomer to the taming of such beasts. Still, that was not to say she was so used to being up close with an animal such as yours. Frost may have been no dragon but the creature still irked her. Almost as much as her sons' and late husband’s dragons.

While she inspected it, the dire wolf eyed her back from where he sat lazily on the ground. The longer they gazed at one another, the more agitated the wolf grew and before long a low growl began to rumble through his spiked teeth.

Quickly she altered her gaze so that it was once again set on you. “I hope your dire wolf will be able to adjust to the weather of King’s Landing.”

And just like that, you were talking once again.

“I am sure it will take some adjusting for the both of us.” You smiled and reached down to rub behind Frost’s ear, soothing him.

Through pursed lips, the queen mother hummed and then there was silence once more.

It was a long ride only made longer by the uncomfortable aura that had settled in the carriage but before long you finally found yourselves approaching King’s Landing.

The Red Keep was larger than you had expected it to be, although you considered the fact that you may have underestimated it. It was the home of the crown, after all.

You followed quickly after the queen mother as she and her guards lead you through her home but that was not to say you had not lingered in some areas on your way through.

It was not like you had never left Winterfell before but you had never once been so far south, not to mention to King’s Landing itself. You only wished you had more time to look around but you supposed you would have plenty of time for that later. After all, this was now to be your home too.

“I was hoping to introduce Aemond to you upon our arrival but unfortunately he has not yet returned. For now, we shall have you settled into your room. I am sure you are tired from the journey so rest well until dinner. Reila will take you to your chambers,” the queen mother explained after conferring with one of the servants and then ushered a young girl over to you.

Her tawny hair was pulled back and tied tightly out of the way behind her head but a few strands still hung loosely from where they had fallen out throughout the course of the day. It was not long past noon and the poor girl already looked like she had been working for a full day.

Still, she directed you along with a smile. “This way, m’lady.”

You had not noticed it until she was gone but a tight feeling had seemed to have entrapped your chest in your time since leaving Winterfell. It only began to ease when the queen mother had long since left your presence.

“Here we are, m’lady. I hope everything is to your liking. If you need anything just call.” With a slight curtsy, the servant girl stood patiently waiting for your dismissal.

“Thank you, Reila.”

She seemed taken aback for a moment, certainly surprised that you had already learnt her name. Or, perhaps, that you had even bothered to take note of such a thing. Her smile seemed genuine then as she took her leave to get back to whatever tiring chore was next on her list of things to do.

“Well, Frost. Looks like this is home now,” you sighed and glanced down at your dire wolf who had been permitted to remain by your side.

Leisurely, you began to walk around the room. You turned over every corner of it, examining every detail. It was a guest room, you were certain. You supposed you’d be moved closer to Aemond after your marriage. Still, that was not to say it was lacking. In fact, the room was larger and better decorated than any you had ever stayed in before. The crown was wealthy, that you knew, but this was once again beyond your expectations.

During your thorough examination, Frost had found a nice spot on the ground beside the bed to take a nap. That alone comforted you as he would not have so much as blinked if he thought there was any chance you were in danger. To see him sleeping so peacefully now was as good a sign as any that you were safe to let your guard down for a while.

So, you shrugged off your thick coat and lay down in the middle of your new, comfortable bed. It wasn’t the same as the one back home but it would do.

After a long, peaceful nap, you awoke to a gentle knock at your door and smiled when Reila entered.

“A warm bath has been prepared for you, m’lady. Please, follow me.”

The bath was indeed warm and more welcoming than you had anticipated, even with Reila by your side. Perhaps it was the fact that Reila was there to keep you company and help wash your hair that you were so relaxed in such a new environment. The girl had a way about her. The type of kindness that radiated from only the most humble of servants.

Frost too was given a bath and upon his return, you heard he had taken a bite out of one of the poor men tasked with scrubbing him down. It was their own fault for not heeding your warning. You had said he would be more at ease with your presence yet they had gone ahead with it in your absence anyway. Little did it matter now, at least he was clean.

You stood in your room gently pulling a brush through the length of your hair when you heard it. The ferocious roar of a beast unlike any you had ever seen before.

Without once faltering as you tended to your hair, you strode across to the window and watched as the largest dragon in the world flew past. Sitting on its back was Aemond himself, the man you were soon set to marry.

Although you tried to quell your beating heart, nothing could dispel the wonder that had overtaken your every feeling. Fear resided in there too somewhere but the sheer awe of such a sight was so overwhelming that there was little room to truly feel afraid.

Even from a distance, you could tell it was an ugly creature yet it was still so beautiful. The way it traversed the sky with such elegance, its body so large it almost eclipsed the entire sun as they flew by.

Soon they were out of sight but her shriek could still be heard as they landed. Something was wrong. Something had happened in their time away.

You were not sure how you knew that but you did. You had never seen a dragon before, let alone heard one cry. Nor had you met the prince. There was no reason for you to know a single thing about them but you knew. You just knew that something was wrong.

From inside your chambers, you could hear the commotion outside. The constant patter of feet as people rushed past, the chime of metal as guards hurried from their posts. Still, no one came to get you so inside you remained.

It quietened down after some time and, as the sun began its descent below the horizon, you decided to stretch your legs and investigate.

You did not walk for long before you saw them, Prince Aemond and his mother, out in the gardens. They were arguing from what you could tell although most of the yelling stemmed from the queen mother. Her son stood quietly, seemingly not uttering a single word as he allowed the onslaught from his mother.

When she was finally done, she pulled the prince into her arms and held him tight, cradling his head to her shoulder even though he did not appear to be upset. Then, when the embrace came to an end, he spoke something quietly to her and left.

“Lady Stark, what are you doing out here?”

Reila was the first person to even notice you since you left your chambers.

“I was just out for a walk before dinner but I am afraid I might have gotten myself lost,” you chuckled, hoping feigned ignorance would prevent her from assuming you were snooping.

It seemed to work as the servant girl smiled and gestured for you to follow her back to your room. “About dinner… You will have to eat alone tonight, I’m afraid. The queen mother regrets that you will not be able to eat together but she has promised you will have lunch with Prince Aemond tomorrow so the two of you may get properly acquainted.”

With furrowing brows, you frowned. “I see, I hope nothing has happened.”

When Reila failed to answer you and only kept her head forward as she continued to lead the way back to your chambers, you knew it must have been bad.

The rest of the walk, although short, was far too quiet and it wasn’t until you were in the safe space of your room that you decided to press on the matter again.

“Reila?” The servant girl peered back at you through the slim gap in your door and hummed. “What were they arguing about? What has happened?”

She glanced down the hall before slipping inside your room and closing the door behind her. “You must keep this between us, m’lady.”

“Of course.” You nodded.

She stepped closer again then and lowered her voice some more as if she were afraid the walls could hear. “Prince Aemond was sent to Storm's End to earn the support of House Baratheon but he encountered his nephew, Lucerys. The two had an altercation and Vhagar killed the boy and his dragon.”

Your heart sank at the news. Were you really set to marry a murderer?

“Thank you, Reila. There must be much work to be done, you may leave.”

With that, the girl curtsied and bid you farewell.

As noon drew near your nerves had begun to take hold of you. Although you tried to remain composed, nothing could prevent the shake in your breath or your hands from sweating.

The first meeting with your betrothed was always going to be an anxious event but you were not anxious in the way you were supposed to be. No, rather than a feeling of butterflies you were plagued with feelings of dread.

He had killed his own nephew. A boy no older than four and ten. A child, by all accounts. Murdered likely in cold blood.

No, there had to be more to it. Why would a prince murder a boy of his own blood? Perhaps the boy was a skilled warrior and although the prince was elder, he had to act to defend himself. A war was coming, after all, and they would have met on the battlefield at some point or another.

Still, the news your servant spoke of unsettled you.

“It will be fine, Frost. I’m sure there is a logical explanation as to what happened at Storm’s End. Besides, this meeting is not to talk of such things but to allow me a chance to meet my future husband.”

The dire wolf tilted his head as he looked at you, eyes soft as he could sense your discomfort.

You wished he could come with you but it was improper to take such a creature with you to a meeting such as this. It would not make for a good first impression. Then again, you were yet to formally meet the man and he had already made quite a distinguishable impression on you.

A gentle knock at your door drew you from your thoughts and, already knowing who was awaiting you on the other side, you brushed down your dress and headed over to the door.

“Good afternoon m’lady. The queen mother sent me to fetch you for your lunch,” Reila explained with a warm smile.

Without a word, you nodded and followed along after her as she once again led you through the keep. Soon you would know your way around yourself but, for now, you were grateful to have a guide.

Soon you found yourself out in the very gardens you had overlooked the night before. They were beautiful under the bright shine of sunlight and you could swear the very flowers glistened as you walked by.

The warm weather was something you were certainly going to have to get used to. Even in a light-weight dress gifted to you by the queen mother herself, you were still sweltering. You could only imagine what it was like at the peak of summer in King’s Landing.

When you turned the final corner and saw him sitting there, you were pleased to see the queen mother too. It was perhaps the first time since she arrived in Winterfell that you found yourself actually relieved to see her.

Aemond was sitting facing away from you which was perhaps a kindness as you did not have to approach with the knowledge that you were under his watchful gaze. His mother, however, was positioned in a way so that she could see you coming and smiled as you began to walk over.

Reila left your side to return to her work and suddenly you felt so naked under her watchful eyes.

Then, it happened. The prince turned to glance your way, watching with little interest as you approached the table. He met your eyes for but a moment yet he did not once look away, not until you were standing before them both with a polite curtsy.

“Welcome, Lady Stark. Please, sit.” The queen mother gestured to a seat beside her, one that placed you directly opposite the quiet prince.

He seemed so disinterested, yet you could feel his eyes on you. He was watching you closely, even if it appeared not to be so. What he was looking for, however, you did not know.

Only when his mother scowled and began passing out plates, did he even think to open his mouth to speak.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Lady Stark. You must forgive me if I seem distracted, I only returned home last night and am rather weary you see.” He was well-spoken with a calm voice but there was a coldness to it. A coldness unlike any you had encountered in the North before.

“That is most understandable, my prince. I hope your journey home was swift.”

The prince only hummed at that and turned quiet once again, seemingly reluctant to speak about his recent travels.

“And you, Lady Stark? I trust you rested well?” The queen mother forced a smile as she tried to steer the topic of conversation.

“Yes, your grace. As did Frost, I must thank you again for the extra blankets you sent for him.”

Only then did Aemond rejoin the conversation. “Frost?”

Before you could answer him yourself, the queen mother spoke for you. “Lady Stark’s dire wolf. Perhaps he could accompany the two of you on your next walk around the gardens? I am sure Aemond would love to meet him.”

The prince only hummed once again as he sat back in his chair but you could still sense his piqued interest in your choice of companion. Maybe the prince liked animals or perhaps he was simply interested in meeting another tamed beast.

The conversation grew tiresome after that. Prince Aemond barely spoke another word as he quietly ate his meal and drank his wine. The queen mother did most of the talking but as she spoke of Aemond and his misadventures as a child, much to his dismay, you came to realise just how much she loved him.

You may have learnt little about the prince but you had come to know the queen mother quite well and, despite your rocky start, you were starting to come to like her.

The next time you saw him was on the walk you had been promised. It had only been two days since you saw him last but it felt much longer.

After Aemond returned, King’s Landing had been different. Whispers of war echoed through the halls and the council met far too frequently which had everyone unsettled.

It was clear a war was coming the moment they made their move to place Aegon on the throne but still, there were talks of peace should Rhynera have agreed to the terms set. But then Lucerys was killed. Her boy, her child. You were yet to have any children of your own so you could only imagine the pain of a mother outliving her children.

Aemond was quiet on your walk. In fact, the only time he had spoken was when you first arrived.

He had chuckled slightly when he laid eyes on frost, your ice-white dire wolf. With a wolf like that it would seem you were born to be a Targaryen all along, is what he had said.

Then he inquired about how you had slept and, after you answered that you had slept well enough, he had grown quiet once again. It was as if he had little to say to you or perhaps that he simply did not wish to talk to you. His mother had arranged the marriage, after all. He had had as little choice in the matter as you.

Still, he did his duty and walked with you as was expected of him, even if he did not make use of the time to get to know his future bride.

When you tried to spark up conversation again it was not as though he had ignored you but his answers had been short, the conversation even shorter lived.

This went on for a little over an hour before he walked you back to your room. He tried to offer you a smile as he bid you farewell but you could tell his thoughts were elsewhere.

Perhaps there was another. Perhaps he already had a lover and that was why he was being so distant with you. Or maybe his mind was troubled by thoughts of the war he may very well have started that night in Storm’s End.

Whatever it was, you would not be getting through his well-built walls anytime soon.

Not long after Aemond left you, you found yourself being summoned by the queen mother again. It was a welcome summoning as you would much prefer to spend your time in her company than secluded in your room with little else to do.

She spoke simply at first. Asking you how you were settling into your new home and questioning whether there was anything you needed. After a little while, however, she finally approached the topic she had really been wanting to discuss with you.

“I know this marriage is not one either of you chose and I know Aemond can be… difficult but I hope the two of you will come to care for one another someday.”

You thought for a moment about your response before asking to speak freely. When the queen mother approved of your request, you spoke what was on your mind. “I admit, getting the prince to open up to me will not be easy but it will be my duty as his wife to be there for him. Whether he comes to care for me or not, I will do what is right by him, your grace.”

Her lips curled up into a bright smile and she reached out to take your hands in her own, holding them gently as she spoke, “I am glad to hear that. I am sure he will do the same. Aemond may seem cold but there is a part of him that craves warmth. A warmth I believe he will find in you, Lady Stark.”

You recuperated her smile, wishing to believe that what she was telling you was true. The prince was indeed distant and distracted but you had only known him for a short while. If you could come to be at the very least content in your marriage with him you would be able to lead a more than adequate life.

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#—dinguswritings ⌕#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x you #prince aemond #aemond “one-eye” targaryen #game of thrones #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #aemond fluff #aemond angst #stark reader #hotd aemond #hotd

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awritesthings1 · 11 months

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The Midas Effect (Part 1)

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Summary: After the King dies, the Dark Ones invade the Capital and burn your palace to the ground. You plan an escape, which ultimately fails and seemingly crash lands you back in time. Will the help of a familiar Jedi be able to save you from your fate?

Word Count: 2.5k+

Note: This is a oneshot, but consists of 2 parts.

AO3 link

Next part

When the sun begins to ache, and the birds catch the last worm, darkness floods the land. Vermin scurry through sodden trenches, squealing in delight at a moldy pastry found next to an unearthed tree. They come in the night, like shadows chasing you down the hallway. Your father called them the Dark Ones; vicious spirits starved of the violence they craved.

You never imagined they would come like this. As a child, your father reassured you they were nothing more than monsters that lived under your bed. Of course, he wrapped an arm around your trembling shoulders while tears rushed down both cheeks. He laughed a moment later when you told him you had seen a shadow under your bed the other night. You were too small to understand.

Growing up with the epitome of luxury, monsters living under your bed was your biggest worry. With a palace cherished by those before you, and love built into the walls, it was easy to forget how lucky you were. Your father was never King to you like he was to everyone else. He was the man who checked under your bed for monsters, and said yes when your mother said no.

Now, your old life is ashes in a pile of rubble.

Because the monsters didn’t live under your bed, they lived in Imperial bases.

“Would you like something to drink, my Lady?”

A gentle hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.

“No thank you.” Your nose scrunches at the noise of the bubbling pot. It was too loud. What if the Dark Ones heard and were making their way up the mountain at this moment?

Vee, your maiden, knew you like the back of her hand. When you were born, she tied herself to your wrist for better or for worst. In her own right, she became your mum while your parents were busy doing whatever ruling a country meant. But with that came the inability to lie or hide things. “They won’t find us up here, now come have some tea.”

You pick at the dirt under your nails, considering her words before reluctantly grabbing the ceramic mug being shoved into your hand. The older woman sits next to you by the fireplace. Silence thins over the cackling flame, fanning away the curious insects.

You watch a spider spin a web in the corner of the miniature brick house. Luckily, a rural traditionalist farmer had found you and Vee picking at his crops and offered you some shelter for the next few days. You doubt he would have offered otherwise if you weren’t the next heir to the crown. Most traditionalists preferred to stick to themselves, living off the land the same way ancient civilizations would have.

A thunderous attack on the western front claps across the mountainside, rocking the earth beneath your feet. You are careful to clutch at the stone tiles as your drink spills into the cracks. Dirt gathers in your hair, no doubt sprinkling into the tea boiling over the fire.

That was how most of your nights started now.

From the corner of your eye, Vee speaks up. “We can’t stay here forever. The war is getting closer.”

You stiffen at her words, tucking your knees into your chest. “No, I cannot leave my people to fend for themselves… This is their home.” The last word bites into your flesh. You shift away from her embrace, feeling the heat of the fire burn closer to your skin. You accidentally inhale a deep breath of smoke, bursting out into a coughing fit.

“I know, this was my home too,” Vee begins, soothing her hand down your back. “But I want to leave. My husband is waiting for me on Alderaan, and you are the only person keeping me from him.” When your coughing settles, you look to her and see tears brimming her eyes. She reaches for your hand. “Please, don’t make me stay.”

The thorns in the palace gardens never stung as much as this. You wish you could wrap a bandage around this just as easily. But this was bigger than you, and who were you to subject her to this when she only stayed out of loyalty to your parents.

“One more night,” you promise.

Her braid swings from her shoulder as she reaches to wrap a ratty blanket across your lap while simultaneously pulling you into a tight hug. “One more night,” she agrees, “but we leave Caridaan this time.”

Despite not wanting to admit it, she was right. After spending months living back-to-back in freezing mountainous terrain, biding time was fruitless. Sitting around had only made you pity yourself.

You nod your head. “First thing tomorrow,” you agree, “arrange a ship to Alderaan.”

The woman squeals in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. The rags drag against your skin at the contact, briefly making you flinch. You certainly won’t miss wearing whatever Vee hastily stitched together once your old clothes became unmendable. A warm dip in the refresher wouldn’t hurt either.

As the woman settles by the fire and huddles her body from the elements, you wait until her chest lulls into the familiar rhythm of sleep. Rising from your spot, you drape the blanket over her shoulders, pulling it to cover the rest of her body. Quietly, you step outside.

The horizon is buried under countless layers of clouds and midnight shadows. But on the cliffside, a chill of frigid air ghosts past your neck, triggering a flare of goosebumps down your arms. Golden streaks light up the night sky, but it’s not beautiful or mesmerizing. It’s disgusting and twists your stomach in a way worse than hunger. Because each light is a life being snuffed out. Fires, bombs, and weapons lay siege to little villages and peaceful communities, all in efforts to take the Capital.

To take your throne.

And while you may not live up to the name of your father, or be anywhere near powerful enough to stop the attack on your planet, you just may know one person who might.

Outside your window, a ghastly storm howled across Caridaan. Not that you had noticed, of course, because you were too occupied preparing your hair for bed. Dressed in your silk nightgown, you pinned it back carefully until the movement of your door drew you away.

The gentle steps of your mother rounds the corner. Your shoulders drop at the sight of her. Vee is by her side, nervously picking at her nails.

“Your father couldn’t come to wish you a good night, so I am here.”

You recognise the wavering tone in your mother’s voice when she speaks. Her eyes linger on the floor as she purses her lips, swallowing a shaky breath. The hairs on your arm raise.

Your mother was never an emotional person.

“What happened?” You question, peaking a glance at Vee who looks equally as disturbed as your mother.

“Nothing, my dear.” Her voice cuts off, supressing a sob.

The tension in the room pulls taut.

Your mother attempts to blink away tears before reaching for a tissue on your vanity. “…It’s just that…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, scrunching the tissue into her palm and bursting into tears. You rush over to hug her without question. She trembles into your arms, gripping the back of your nightgown like a vice. “It’s your father.”

You suck in a breath at her words, the scent of a distinguished candle lingers.

“He’s dead.”

A sudden jerk of the ship throws you headfirst into the wall.

“Maker! Are you hurt?” Vee cries out from her seat in the cockpit while squeezing the armrests to death.

Her voice is lost to a flood of alarms and a grunting engine. You crumble to the ground, clutching your throbbing head with a groan.

“Hold on! We’ve been hit!” Cries the Alderaan pilot, dipping the ship into a nose dive.

Your soul leaves your body as you are flung into the ceiling of the ship faster than you can blink.

“They’ve circled us!”

“Well? Do something!”

Desperately, you clutch at anything to ease your descent when the ship levels out. Fighting through the splitting pain in your head, you cling to a pipe heaving frantically for a break. When the ship levels, you drop down only to spit out the mouthful of blood and hair in your mouth. Without wasting a moment, you scramble to lock yourself into the closest seat.

Explosions continue to shake the ship, spinning your thoughts around.

“M’good” you mumble incoherently to no one in particular.

A series of coughs explode out your lungs, when a gush of freezing air pricks at your skin.

“Emergency hatch is open!” The pilot yells while flipping a few switches and pressing a big red angry button.

Vee’s hand reaches over her armrest to squeeze your hand. Tears are pooling down her cheeks.

Was this how you die?

The moon glares from behind Vee’s head, blinding you momentarily before a dark figure crosses your vision. Biting back the pain, you glare at the silhouette, desperately trying to work out if you were seeing things.

The Alderaan pilot struggles for what only could be seconds before a bright red light slashes at something before disappearing into the dark. You hear the pilot plead before they are carelessly shoved away from the console. You turn to Vee to gauge if you were imagining things, but she appears to be transfixed at the same sight.

“Hold on!” The dark figure commands.

You don’t think to question it as both you and Vee let go of each other’s hands to clutch the armrests.

Within a matter of moments, you feel the ship pull towards the ground. Your heart is thumping loud enough for the cockpit to hear. Fire catches at the descent of the ship, illuminating the cockpit with flaming gold light. Blood rushes to your head, consuming your vision in vivid white. Despite your grip, you begin losing sensation in your fingers. Fighting to stay conscious, a fierce scream rips from your lungs before the weight of your body disappears.

This is death. This has to be death. Your head was no longer in pain, and the feeling in your fingers had returned. You feel cold drops pelt your back as you hunch over on something sodden and gasp for air. You violently cough up your lungs, as your eyes adjust to your surroundings.

A rush of adrenaline laces through your veins.

Pulled straight from the pages of a horror story, the palace you once called home sits quietly up the hill.

Shivers wrack your body. You were dreaming, you had to be. But the violent pelting of rain soaking the ground beneath your knees says otherwise. You unwind your fists from the sodden grass, clutching your muddy clothes in disbelief. Upon closer inspection, you recognise it to be the slip you use to wear to bed. You pull at them, expecting your fingers to slip through the fabric like they would in a dream but the silk brushes against your skin the same way it always did.

Your blood runs cold. This was impossible. The palace burned down in the invasion.

“You know you shouldn’t be out here this late.”

You jolt, twisting around to see the Jedi Knight that guarded you in the months following your father’s death. Rushing to stand, your back is as stiff as a board while you watch him incredulously. Mud squelches under his boots when he moves to wrap his robe around your shoulders. He appears to be unbothered by the rain, instead squeezing your shoulders to give you a gentle nudge towards the palace. Your feet refuse to move.

“Anakin?” The disbelief in your voice is evident. “What’s happening?”

Anakin’s curls are plastered to his face as he squints through the rain to meet your eyes. His mouth hangs slightly agape, blinking at you sceptically for a moment before exhaling with an amused smirk. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you would pull something like this just to get my attention, princess, but I’m flattered,” Anakin remarks, stepping over you to sling his Jedi robe across your quivering shoulders.

Your nose fills as tears build in your eyes. Frustration, anger, fear and relief battle for your next words. “I’m scared,” you decide without much thought. The tears and exhaustion slip into your voice as you snuggle into the warmth of his robe.

The smile on the Jedi’s face falls, immediately gathering you up into his arms. Your nose presses into the nape of his already soaked neck, gasping for air between each sob. Anakin doesn’t mind though, letting you shift your weight into his body. The rain continues to pour down, plastering your now translucent nightgown to your skin. Ever the gentleman, his gaze shifts to the sky, blinking away the rain drops falling into his eyes. Your cries sink his heart but he knows that if you two were to stay out here any longer, you would surely catch a cold. Carefully, he maneuvers your arms around his waist then bends to cradle the back of your thighs and carry you through the mud to the palace.

You are too immersed in gripping the back of his shirt and crying into his shoulder to care. Maybe you were dead and this was the afterlife. But what about Vee? And your people? Had you left them all to die?

Your wet feet slap onto the stone tile as Anakin sets you down. “Am I dead?” You hiccup.

Anakin’s head shakes. “No, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You sniff, nodding gently while you take in the appearance of the room connected to the back entrance. It looked the same way you had left it before the fire. The candles were all snuffed out except for the one Anakin had lit and held to see your face through the dark. Even the boots of the servants looked hastily tucked beneath the table.

“Go change into something warm,” Anakin’s spare hand cups your cheek to draw your attention back to him, “I’ll have some hot tea ready.” His thumb wipes away the remaining drops of rain on your skin. You forget to breathe at the touch of his real hand. It’s short-lived though as he retreats through a door into the servants kitchen.

You are left in the dark, partly expecting to wake up any second. For a moment, you think you might be slipping away then realise it is only a draft from a window a servant must have forgotten to close. Reluctantly, you step closer, shutting the window quietly. You consider going to your room to change, but you know you can’t face crossing the threshold and reliving all those memories. So, you settle for one of the spare servant attire draped over a hook before meeting Anakin in the kitchen.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #star wars anakin #sw anakin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin imagine #clone wars anakin #anakin skywalker imagine

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exhuastedpigeon · 5 months

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✨ 2023 writing round-up ✨

I posted the more words to Ao3 this year than I have in any other previous year, which is wild since I only really started writing again in June. It's wild the choke hold that Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley have on me. Here's my writing round-up for 2023 :)

June

If we’re both still single… Teen || 2.9k

This was my first Buddie fic. Little did I know I was about to fall down the fucking rabbit hole.

“I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to repeat that for me?” Eddie had a beer halfway to his lips, his arm slung lazily on the back of the couch. “If we’re both still single when we’re 35, we should just get married,” Buck repeated, as casually as if he was saying they should order pizza or change the channel from the basketball game to hockey.

let me see them tan lines Teen || 2.8k

Four times the 118 notices Eddie Diaz's ring tan line and one time he was wearing a ring.

give me a sign, I want you next to me Teen || 7k

Buck loves working at the 118. He loves living in LA. He loves his kid. He loves the life they've manage to build. The only thing he doesn't love is that his husband is across the world in a war zone. OR The 118 knows Buck has a really cute kid and a partner he loves, they just think that partner is his husbands ex.

July

it's like everything you say is a sweet revelation Mature || 5.6k

“Marry me,” Eddie said. It wasn’t a question, it was a sentence. He said it like he was commenting on the weather or last night's Dodgers game. Buck slowly lowered his coffee cup, eyes wide. Eddie lifted his drink and took a sip, a satisfied hum escaped him as he did. “Come again?” “Marry me,” Eddie took another sip of his coffee. “Please?”

boiling point Teen || 2k

Growing up, Buck heard the story about frogs and boiling water, that if you put a frog into boiling water, it’ll jump out, but if you put the frog is put in room temperature water and then slowly bring it to a boil, the frog won’t perceive the danger and will be boiled to death. When he was a kid, he had believed it, like so many other stories and fables. OR Evan Buckley's extremely extended metaphor for loving Eddie Diaz.

August

wet your lips (and smile to the camera) Mature || 6.8k

Buck has a problem and that problem is that Eddie Diaz is going to ruin his life. OR Eddie starts modeling on the side and Buck can't stop looking at his pictures, mostly because Eddie's ads are everywhere.

you are the only one that needs to know Teen || 2k

"You're not my dirty little secret. And I never want you to think that,” Buck says it practically into Eddie’s mouth, with a hand on Eddie’s chest. He shoves him, gently, into the Grant-Nash laundry room next to the bathroom. “But…” “But?” Eddie grins, feels the way Buck is grinning against his lips too and lets himself be moved backward until he collides with the washing machine. “But… I will miss sneaking off to make out with you when we finally tell everyone."

this kiss is something I can't resist Mature || 1.6k

Happiness snuck up on Evan Buckley like a summer storm in Florida, but unlike a summer storm, the happiness he was feeling didn’t seem to be going anywhere. If anything, it was getting bigger, the feeling threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment.

take my hand, don't let it go Teen || 2.3k

In retrospect, dating a death doula pretty soon after one of the most traumatic experiences of Buck’s life, an experience where he actually died, was maybe not Buck’s smartest decision. In which Buck realizes that dating Natalia isn't what he needs and talks to Eddie about their shared death related trauma.

you're the cream in my coffee Explicit || 8.6k

“Dad, did you know there’s a coffee that’s made of poop!” “It’s not actually made of poop, bud,” Buck grinned, handing Eddie Chris’s backpack. “It’s partially digested cherries. The cherries actually ferment as they’re being passed through the civet’s intestines. They disinfect them and everything before they’re consumed.” “Yeah! That! It’s called copy loo-wake” “Kopi luwak.” “Uh huh!” “I take it you had fun with your Buck today, huh?” “Buck's the best dad!”

September

a dream is a wish your heart makes General || 3.3k

It takes a soft, domestic dream about Buck for Eddie to realize what's been true for a long time - he's in love with his best friend.

October

Hot and Heavy Explicit || 9.4k

Eddie can admit without shame that he’s having a bit of a hoe phase. He’s thirty, recently out of the closet, and even more recently single, he’s allowed to have some fun. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s basically a requirement that he fuck around since he didn’t get to do it when he was younger. OR Five times Eddie had casual sex with someone who wasn't Buck and the time they finally got their shit together

Feels Like Magic Teen || 47.8k

“You used too much magic again,” Buck’s voice was quiet as he spoke, but he knew Eddie heard him. “You’re alive,” Eddie’s eyes were closed, but Buck knew the look Eddie would be giving him if they had been open. It was the same look Eddie had given him when he had said ‘because, Evan, you think you’re expendable but you’re not’. It was a look that made Buck feel truly and completely seen in a way he never had before. “There’s no such thing as too much if it saves you.” “Go to sleep,” Buck said, because if he left himself say anything else he’d be telling Eddie he loved him and he didn’t think in the bunk room at two in the morning after an exhausting call was the right moment, but then again, Buck was pretty sure he’d be taking that secret to his grave.

November

kiss and make up Explicit || 3.3k

Eddie always thought that if he and Buck ever kissed it would be in the heat of the moment, it would be pure relief that they were still alive. Maybe after a big rescue or (another) near death experience. That if it wasn’t in the heat of the moment as they both came down from an adrenaline rush that it would be something soft, probably in one of their kitchens while they did the dishes. He always figured that the first kiss would be like a homecoming. (Not that Eddie thought about kissing Buck often, because he doesn’t do that.) Instead of being soft and sweet or adrenaline fueled and filled with love and thanks that they're both alive, their first kiss comes in the middle of a fight in Eddie’s living room.

gold when you see me Teen || 4.3k

"Ouch,” Eddie says when he lands, his teeth clacking in his head. His ass hurts in an extremely unfun way, his ankle feels terrible, and he’s seeing spots. None of that is good news. “Eddie?” Buck sounds panicked. “Eddie?” “Down here,” Eddie calls up. He’s definitely going to have a bruised tail bone and there’s a pretty decadent chance that he’s sprained his ankle, if not broken it. He’s a little too shaken up to try to get up right now, especially since it's not like he’s not going to be able to get himself out of here. He takes a deep breath and feels every second of it in his ribs. On the bright side, they don't feel broken, just bruised. Buck’s face, illuminated by nothing but Eddie’s flashlight and Buck’s own, appears in the hole that Eddie fell through. “You okay?” Eddie will explore the tremor in Buck’s voice later, right now he needs to get out of this fucking hole before it caves in even more. “Definitely a little banged up, but I landed on the ground, not anything else.”

wanna lose my mind in a hotel room with you Explicit || 4.1k

"Think you’ll ever have that kind of love?” Eddie asks as he leans against the wall with a beer in his hand at Maddie and Chimney’s engagement party. He’s got a fond look on his face, if not a little wistful as he turns to face Buck. “I hope so,” Buck says with a small smile on his face as he looks from Maddie and Chim dancing with Jee-Yun between them to Eddie. He’s pretty sure he’s already got half of a love like that standing next to him, he just isn’t sure if it’s reciprocated. “I-I really hope so.” “Want to dance with me?” Eddie asks after a few seconds of quiet between them, his eyes bright in the yellow light of the string lights that crisscross the patio.

December

it hurts to hope for more Mature || 15.5k

“I’m never - I’m never going to be a dad,” Buck sobs into Eddie’s shoulder. “She didn’t want kids. Why do I keep dating people who don’t want the same things as me? Is- is the universe telling me that I don’t deserve it?” “Hey, no,” Eddie pulls back from the hug and Buck lets out a pitiful sound at the loss of contact. “The universe doesn’t do that. The universe doesn’t scream and it definitely doesn’t get to tell you what you deserve, because you deserve everything Buck. Everything.” OR Buck wants to be a dad, it takes a couple break-ups and a major non-romantic heartbreak for him to figure out that maybe he already is.

can't make it stop, give me all you got Explicit || 4.1k

“Are we really doing this?” Buck’s lips graze the shell of Eddie’s ear as he speaks. They're in a club, the music is loud, so Eddie would have chalked the proximity of Buck’s mouth up to that, but Buck nips at his earlobe. “I think we are,” Eddie grins and turns his face to capture Buck’s mouth with his. He doesn’t care that they’re probably in view of all of their friends. He doesn’t care that there are sweaty, dancing bodies all around them. All he can think about is the way Buck’s hands feel on his waist, the way Buck’s breath hitches as Eddie grabs a handful of his ass. OR Eddie and Buck fuck in a club at Pride

#2023 writing round up #writing round up #buddie #my fic #my fics #my writing

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anatay004 · 1 year

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ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ | ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪ ᴅɪᴇ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜱɪx)

Summary: After a blissful night of peace, war eventually breaks through Dragonstone when the king dies and your marriage with Jacaerys is suddenly at risk. He will not let war come you.

(A/N): So, sadly, this is the last part of the Love Me Not series! But I’ll be posting a longer version on AO3 soon this week, however, the story will be in depth and with an OC.

ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ

IT WAS THE sound of deafening screams that jolted you awake the next morning. Instinctively, you turned to your side and reached for Jacaerys, but his side of the bed was empty. You sucked in a breath, the breeze that ripped through the windows peppered goosebumps over your naked skin and you shivered at the cold.

Where was he?

Then you heard the screams again.

You climbed out of bed and changed at once.

You rushed through the corridors, heart hammering against your chest as your sister's screams strained your ears. You were disoriented, unaware of the trouble that was slithering within the walls of the castle as Rhaenyra began to birth her daughter.

"Sister," Rhaenyra hissed out when your frame stumbled into her line of vision. You swallowed the knot in your throat, the sight of her crimson nightgown and strangled moans made you falter in your spot. She was not ready to give birth. "Our father has passed."

Your head reeled.

Oh, you thought.

Somewhere in the haze, her screams broke into your reverie again. You blinked, but your muscles could not move, the news push forward an unmoored plague that pestered your reason. You were standing in the room, but the light of humanity dimmed in your irises and you were nothing more than a shadow as she screamed for the babe to come out – nothing more.

"My love," Jacaerys' voice made you flinch, but his touch comforted you almost immediately as he anchored his hands on your arms tenderly.

"The greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the iron throne." Rhaenyra continued, a cry of pain clogged in her throat.

Your skin pricked with goosebumps.

"Aegon has been crowned King."

Jacaerys' fingers tightened around your arms.

"What is it to be done about it?" Jacaerys spat, a heated tone wrapped around his words.

"Nothing yet!" Rhaenyra cried.

You exhaled sharply. "Fuck..."

"Where is Daemon?" Jacaerys demanded, his hands dropped to his sides, fisting in anger.

"I don't know," Rhaenyra answered. "Gone to madness, gone to plan his war."

Jacaerys clenched his jaw.

"Jace..." You began, but he dismissed you and made to leave the room at once to look for Daemon. You knew the war was coming, it lingered in your skin the moment he let go of you and you shivered at the sudden coldness.

Beside you, Lucerys searched for your hand.

"Jace," Rhaenyra berated, making your husband stop in his tracks momentarily. "Whatever claim remains to me, you are now its heir."

You swallowed hard.

You were to be queen soon.

"Naught it is to be done but by my command."

Jacaerys remained silent, a searing heat flashed across his eyes as he looked back at his mother – he was furious, you'd never seen him like this before. He eventually nodded and walked out of the room without bothering to look back.

Luke squeezed your hand in comfort before following his brother.

You followed his frame with sad eyes.

Your father was dead.

And so will many others soon.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

You were there when Rhaenyra birthed a corpse.

And you were there when her daughter's body was wrapped in coarse and grainy bandages.

She had been born dead.

And now, you were standing amongst the crowd outside the castle, watching from afar the sullied funeral that deemed the crown cursed. Within a blink of an eye, everything fell into chaos, and, with your father's death, you feared the worse was yet to come.

So, you watched in silence.

Jacaerys was standing next to you, but his presence felt as if it was miles away from you. He wallowed in his thoughts and you didn't question it, not at first, it seemed rather reasonable given the tragic circumstances. So, you let him be and focused your attention on Joffrey instead. The child was perplexed, he hugged your legs in search of comfort and you raked a hand through his curls in affection.

"It's okay," You lowly whispered when the little boy looked up in search of your gaze. "Everything will be alright."

Jacaerys shifted a little beside you.

"I swear to ward the Queen," Erryk Cargill's voice strained your ears, he kneeled before Rhaenyra and offered her the King's crown. "With all my strength..."

You narrowed your eyes at the scene.

Your father's crown.

A pain retaliated in the pit of your stomach.

He was dead too.

"My Queen," Daemon kneeled, after placing the crown on Rhaenyra's head – Queen Rhaenyra. Everyone followed his actions soon after, kneeling before your sister in affirmation of their loyalty and support.

A tang of crimson settled down your throat.

You kneeled too.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

"What is our standing?"

"We have thirty knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and three hundred men-at-arms."

After the funeral, the counsel room ensued with tension as everyone gathered to plan for war. You were standing beside Rhaenyra, listening to everyone's back-and-forth discussion with little interest on your part.

You wanted to get out.

Something about withholding the mourning of your father's death and the possible confrontation with your brothers made you sick. It marred your face with shadows, it was more than evident you weren't feeling well.

You sucked in a breath.

You wanted to wallow in your memories. You wanted to burrow in the recesses of your mind and trace back to when Viserys was your only home. You wanted to go back to when Aemond and Aegon pestered you day and night, to when they were your loyal company and you were theirs. You wanted to go back so bad.

But those days were gone.

"Your grace, a ship has been sighted offshore." Erryk Cargill announced, and you blinked in sudden realization – your brothers. "A lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon."

Idiots, you thought.

"Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies." Daemon commanded, and soon after, everyone began to make their way outside.

You were nervous.

So, you decided to wait for Jacaerys, falling back a few steps to allow everyone else to make their way through. You wanted his comfort and his words of consolation, but you were more than surprised when he didn't slow down his pace and, instead, walked past you awarely.

You faltered on your spot as he disappeared through the corridors.

He didn't even spare you a glance.

You clenched your jaw, trying to feign an unfazed look on your face as you made to walk out of the room. You cursed him silently, a few hours ago, he had made love to you and whispered dulcet words of affection in your ears, but – now, he was acting as if you were invisible.

You didn't walk to your room that afternoon. Instead, you made your way to the only person who could ever provide you with affection.

"You don't look well, auntie," Lucerys admitted when you knocked and walked into his room. You didn't answer for a moment, instead, you offered him a faint smile. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," You mumbled, but he didn't believe you. The uneasy expression on his face made it evident, but you tried to dismiss it. "It's been a tough time day, hasn't it?"

He looked down at his hands. "Rather stupid."

You tried to stifle a chuckle. "Stupid is an interesting choice of word."

Lucerys' lips itched. "That's how it feels."

You opened your mouth to answer, but his arms wrapped around your waist before you could. He pressed his head against your chest in affection, arms tight around your frame as if he was almost afraid of letting you go for a second.

You returned the hug.

"I'm scared," He admitted.

Your heart shattered.

"I'm scared too," You whispered, and placed a soft kiss on top of his head that made his grip tighten around you. You weren't sure how long it lasted, but the blissful moment made the raw wound inside your chest stop bleeding for a minute – it almost cured the malady.

For a second, you felt safe.

And he did too.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

You ended up sleeping in Lucerys room. In between whispers and hushes, he had told you about his worries and insecurities about disappointing everyone, including you.

"You could never disappoint me," You had assured him that night quietly, "Nothing in the world could ever make me love you less."

He squeezed your hand underneath the sheets.

When morning came, you climbed out of bed and made your way out in silence, tiptoeing around to avoid disturbing his sleep. After debating with yourself, you eventually made your way back to your chamber, but the room was empty as you expected. The sheets, however, were untidy and well slept in – that brought you a little comfort.

Jace had slept here.

Your handmaidens soon bathed and helped you change into a comfortable dress to attend breakfast alone. You walked around the corridors in silence, chewing the inside of your cheeks as you tried to comprehend everything that had tumbled down in a matter of hours, but it didn't take long for your husband to find you.

"Where the hell were you last night?" He hissed, hand suddenly latched onto your wrist.

You pulled your hand back. "Why do you care?"

He gave you a look. "You're my wife, have you forgotten that tiny detail?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Unbelievable."

How valiant of him to act clueless.

How fucking valiant of him to confront you.

You rolled your eyes at him and made to walk away, but he latched his hand onto your elbow and pulled you back effortlessly.

"Where were you?" He spat through his teeth. This time, there was a tick in his jaw and a familiar hint of anger glossed his eyes – he was jealous, but he didn't dare to blurt it out.

Your lips itched. "How bad does it concern you, my love?"

He exhaled sharply. "How bad do you fucking think? Must I repeat myself?"

You relished his sudden outburst, but the feeling soon quenched down when the memory of his indifference conquered your thoughts.

"What games are you playing?" You questioned, pulling back from his touch. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but you took a deliberate step closer despite his glare. "Do you think I'm some kind of whore you can fuck and ignore when you please?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"My father passed and you didn't even dare to look my way yesterday. Not once did you offer consolation, instead, you treated me as nothing more than a shadow behind your pace."

"Perhaps, not everything was about you? My mother lost her father too and she wasn't weeping in hopes for someone to offer a hug."

You faltered on your spot.

Oh.

You felt a wave of heat roll over your skin, but the searing anger made your lips tighten into a thin line – no answer. And he was adamant in his stance because he didn't relent despite the hurt expression on your face; not one bit.

"My prince, your mother requests your presence along with the princess's."

"We shall be there in a moment."

But you walked away before he could look at you.

"Love, wait – "

But you didn't stop.

His words touched your chest, something about them made your breath still inside your lungs and tears collect at the bottom of your eyelids. You brushed them away with the back of your hand roughly as you cursed his name.

Damn him and damn his fucking head.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

"The narrow sea is ours," Lord Corlys finally announced, declaring an alliance with your sister in the counsel room. She was taken aback for a second before a small smile itched on her lips. "If we further deal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King's Landing..."

You were standing next to Lucerys, tracing arbitrary patterns over the wood map. You were quiet – too quiet, thinking about the cruel tragedies that bruised your heart. Your father was dead, your husband was being cruel and your sister was planning a war.

You chewed the inside of your cheek again.

You wanted to walk out, but the tough tension in the room rushed the air out of your lungs and tried to suffocate you and only you. You wanted no war and no part in rebellions and deaths, but even the fool of your heart knew neither was an option for someone like you.

So, you inhaled shakily.

From the corner of your eyes, you caught a small glance of Jacaerys – searching for you.

You looked down at your hands. After his words, you didn't want to interact with him.

"We should bear those messages." Jacaerys suddenly spoke, after your sister had requested to send ravens to Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm's End. "Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they are more convincing."

You looked at him then.

Your face was marred with utter shock, despite your current differences, you were not prepared to let him walk into an open field of danger and cruelty. Your eyebrows knitted together in evident disapproval, but he dismissed it.

"Send us."

Your breath stilled in your throat.

After a hesitant moment, Rhaenyra eventually answered, "Very well, then. Prince Jacaerys and my sister will fly North – "

" – Not my wife," Jace interjected. "She will not be placed in the middle of the battlefield."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

No, he will not do this to me, you thought.

"Princess (Y/N) rides the largest dragon on our side, if convincing is what we need, her dragon will certainly do plenty." Lord Corlys stated, his answer earned approving nods from the council, but Jacaerys was adamant.

"Perhaps, she can patrol Dragonstone along with Daemon, she has the biggest dragon on our side as you mentioned, it will be needed here if the greens dare to come again."

"I do not wish to stay in Dragonstone," You finally spoke, darting your husband a look before turning to face your sister. "I can travel North with Baelor and convince the Starks to honor the oath they once made to you. I've heard Lord Cregan Stark is closer to my age than most in this room, I can assure you I can do it."

Jacaerys rolled his eyes.

Rhaenyra pensively looked at you, but there was a hint of hesitation in her blue irises as Jacaerys looked back at her with utter challenge.

"She my wife, I have the final word."

"No, you do not – " You tried, but he interrupted with a tone of finality that made everyone quiet.

"I am your husband and future heir to the iron throne, you will do as I say. No Queen can dissipate that, not even my mother."

You were furious, words couldn't describe the ferocious anger that flitted across your face. You hated him at that moment, he belittled in front of the council – and for what? You wanted to yell and fight, but the words never ripped past your lips and, instead, you decided to finally walk out of the room.

And this time, he did follow.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

"What is it that you want from me?" You eventually questioned, when he stepped inside your chamber and made to walk closer to you.

"I want to keep you safe! Is it so hard for you to comprehend?" He defended, narrowing his eyes as he examined your features carefully. You looked back at him with bitter anger, soft irises torched with copper and gold.

"Is that so?" You challenged. "Is that why you belittled me and deemed me nothing more than a wife in front of everyone in the counsel?"

He clenched his jaw. "I do not wish for you to accompany me to the North, I can not risk your life for an alliance that I am not certain of yet."

You scuffed. "Bullshit."

Jacaerys sighed, but his muscles slowly dropped at the sight of the tension in your shoulders. You waited for an answer, but he took a step closer instead. You held back your breath as he slide an arm behind your waist gently. "You're right, I shouldn't have said those things in front of the council. I became desperate and clung to the safest option that would keep you in Dragonstone without a challenge from anyone.

"But I do not wish to stay here."

"And I do not wish to put you in danger."

"Then we're both imbeciles." You whispered, dropping your gaze to his lips subconsciously. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head in evident stress before tracing soft patterns over your back.

"Perhaps," He admitted, tilting his head to the side before lowly adding, "The things I said about your father's death, it was all a lie, I stepped out of line and I apologize for it. I should've been there to offer comfort like the husband I am, but I was so fucking scared of losing everyone."

"Jace – " You began, but he shook his head and his fingers pulled your face towards him.

" – I can't lose you." He stated, words vehement and firm as they slipped out his lips. You swallowed hard, examining his features with careful eyes – he was being sincere.

You nibbled your bottom lip.

"Let me go North with you." You pleaded, and he shifted a little on his heels at your sudden words. "You speak of fear and regret as if they're foreign to me. Have you ever stopped to think about how your injuries or possible death could affect me? I would much rather die than watch you go."

I let go of my father once too, you thought, and hell eventually happened.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you interrupted.

"Please, Jace," You whispered, and his lips swiftly met yours at the exposed vulnerability that ripped through your facade. You kissed him back, allowing the pain that retaliated in the pit of your stomach to dissipate at once.

After a moment, he pulled away and leaned his forehead pensively against yours.

"Okay," He finally breathed out, "Let's go North."

#jacaerys x reader #fanfic #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #daemon targeryan #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #aegon x reader

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eruherdiriel · 5 months

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Duty

Jonsa ficlet Rating: T Universe: Canon, vaguely bookverse Other: Marriage of convenience, Queen Sansa, Sansa POV

Also on AO3.

Sansa finds him under the heart tree, Longclaw across his lap and a whetstone in his hand. He looks so very much like Father it hurts and makes what she is about to say all the more disconcerting.

“My queen,” he greets her, then returns to his work.

“My prince.” She spares Jon any further pleasantries. They will not change what she has to say. “The North needs heirs. I need an heir. We cannot ignore that forever.”

Jon’s hand stills, and though he does not look up, she can see his face become guarded.

“We’ve done our duty.”

Sansa holds in a sigh at his intentional obtuseness. “It takes more than once, Jon.”

“Aye, it can.” Finally, he looks up, but he keeps his eyes from locking with hers. “I thought to give you more … time, before we made a second attempt.”

Their wedding night had been a stilted affair at best; she had trembled, he had frowned, but they had seen it through. Sansa had tried not to think of the men who had touched her before, or how surely Jon was willing himself to think of the woman who came before her.

“You’ve had me once. Surely another time will not be so different,” she snaps. It won’t be different. Your kiss will always taste of duty, and I will never give myself wholly to anyone. But some childish dream buds inside her at times, when he offers her a hand as they walk over icy ground or when he scowls at men who overlook her authority.

Regaining her composure, she continues, her tone softer. “You leave soon. We cannot afford further delay.”

It’s not just about heirs. Sansa does not know how long Jon will be gone, only that she dreads the absence for the awkwardness it will engender in his return. It would be better to become accustomed to his touch now. And what if he does not return? Despite everything—the oddness of a match to a man she once thought her bastard brother, who is the opposite of everything she once wished for—Jon has been a better husband than any of her former suitors could have been. No one else could love the North and Winterfell as well as she does. And if he gets her with child, perhaps she could forestall another marriage if he falls in the war against his Targaryen aunt.

Jon eyes her. “Would you want children even if it was not your duty?”

The question startles her. No one has ever thought to ask me. Bearing children was always expected of her, a sure part of her life. But yes, she has dreamed of a family, and she wishes for one still.

“I want children.” Then, because she honestly does not know, Sansa asks, “Do you?”

She wonders how much Jon has allowed himself to even consider the idea of a family. Since they reunited, she has seen a glint of desire in his eyes for things he never should have wished for—for Winterfell, for a title—but Sansa also knows he has denied himself. “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa,” Jon had said when the Northern seat was offered to him. Learning that had caused another bud of hope to emerge in her, though she tried to temper it.

His answer comes swiftly. “Yes.”

Sansa’s tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. She swallows, trying to bring moisture back so she can form words again.

“Then we both get something we want. It shall not merely be duty.”

Jon purses his lips as if in disagreement but doesn’t refute her. His eyes drop before he speaks, resuming the work of sharpening Longclaw. “I’ll come to your chambers tonight then, your grace.”

She nods, then remembers he isn’t looking at her anymore. “Tonight,” she says before turning away and attempting not to run from the godswood—not to run from him. It would be unbecoming of a queen, and she is not afraid of him.

All day, her tummy flutters for nothing: when Jon’s fingers brush her back as she sits in the chair he has pulled out for her, when his eyes meet hers to communicate silent agitation as Lady Cerwyn complains about troop commitments, and when his fist taps on the door of her chambers in the evening.

“It is only us here, my queen,” Jon says before they begin. “No one else.”

Is it? she wonders. Along with their ghosts, surely the nobles and smallfolk have a presence with them in this act. It is for them, for the assurance of her people that she and Jon strive for an heir. And for ourselves, and the family we both desire, she reminds herself. Then her husband says something else, something that makes her heart stutter.

“Let me make it good for you,” he whispers between kisses. “Let me try.”

She should not allow his words to plant a seed in her heart, but the look in his eyes is needful and vulnerable in a way Jon so rarely allows himself to be seen. Sansa finds herself nodding, letting him kiss his way across her body, letting him rid her of her shift, letting him touch and kiss her in ways that start to feel nothing like duty.

#jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #jon x sansa #*rms #eruhwrites

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ronwestbreeze · 1 year

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TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY : PART TWO : CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE

pairing: jake sully x fem!reader

summary: those that wake from nightmares, whisper together in the aftermath

word count: 1.1k

author's note: this is a short chapter but very relevant, definitely not filler so don't skip! anyway, enjoy!

AO3 | prev | next

Year 2162

The nightmares came again one night.

You didn’t remember much of it but you saw the fire, you heard the screams, and you saw Quaritch. That was enough to shake you from your sleep. The sky was still dark and the forest was quiet. It had to have been early dawn or perhaps you hadn’t really slept that long, you could never tell with these days. Besides, you were honestly surprised you were able to sleep with how sore you’ve been lately.

Neytiri was still fast asleep. But the spot next to her was empty. This was a first. Usually, when you woke up from a nightmare like now, you looked to the others to find comfort in their presence. Sometimes finding Jake’s hand and weaving your fingers through them, squeezing his fingers until you were able to fall back to sleep. But now, Jake was missing. And you were a little curious and worried at the same time.

Carefully, you slipped out of the hammock, careful not to wake the others as you did. As quietly as you could, you wandered away in search of your husband. Fortunately, you did not have to wander too far. You found him near a small river, sharpening his blade when you approached.

His hair was down and curtaining his face when you squatted down next to him. Jake’s ear twitched, telling you he heard you coming.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Instead you watched him carefully, trying to read his expressions which you’ve found yourself learning with the time you’ve spent with him.

“Talk to me, Jake.” You say quietly for him to hear. “And don’t lie. I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

Jake sighed and stopped his movements with sharpening the knife. You placed a hand on his tense shoulder as he spoke, “Earth’s dying. That hasn’t changed no matter how we look at it.” You frowned as he looked at you, worry written on his tired features. It looked like he hadn’t slept, not just now, but for a while. You wondered how long this had been happening and why you hadn’t noticed until now. “They could come back someday, Y/N. And I don’t…I don’t know what I would do if our family had to be put through war. If we had to be put through another war.” He grabbed your hand, placing the blade in it, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost them. Or you lose you again because of it. So, please…” He ducked his head down to look at the knife he placed in your hand, whispering, “please tell me I’m being paranoid. Tell me that I have nothing to worry about. Tell me that it’s all in my head…”

Your heart was heavy. And your silence was enough of an answer.

God, you wished you could tell him he was being paranoid, that you were also being paranoid with all these nightmares. But there was some form of truth, some part of you that always knew—or was worried about the day the Sky People would return. Because Jake was right. Earth was dying. And now that the Sky People knew about Pandora, there was no way in hell they were just going to let what happened those years ago go.

Not thinking about it, trying to focus on the positives, didn’t make it any less true. But you would try. You had decided since you had gotten your second chance that you weren’t going to waste this new life away, constantly worrying about dangers and what you had to do to prevent it from harming your family. Yes, it was always good to be prepared, but you couldn’t allow yourself to fall into a constant cycle of worry. And you wouldn’t allow it for Jake either.

When Jake saw that you hadn’t responded, he sighed and faced the river with a long look. You placed the blade down and scooted closer to him, until your sides were pressed together, feeling each other’s warmth in the chilly night air.

“If that day were to come,” His jaw clenched at your words but you hugged his arm, comforting him as you continued, “I know you will protect this family no matter what. I know that Neytiri would protect this family no matter what. And I know I will as well. And if we did have another war—”

“I don’t want to fight.” Jake shook his head, massaging his face exhaustedly. “And I sure as hell don’t want our children fighting. I just…I’m done fighting. I’m done with war. I’m done with losing people…all I want to do is cherish every moment I spent with this family…but then I realize that this clan needs to be prepared, needs to be protected in case that day does come—”

“And when that day comes, we will be prepared.” You assured him, squeezing his arm as you did. “Jake, I understand you. Believe me, I do. There is not a single day that goes by where I don’t think about what would happen if the Sky People came back…these days it’s been too often…”

There was a quiet pause between the both of you. After a few seconds of hesitating, you took his hand and slowly guided it toward your stomach. Jake instantly looked toward you, eyes wide when he realized, when he felt your stomach.

“I went to see Mo’at earlier today.” You said simply, a slow smile reaching your lips.

Jake grabbed your face, pressing a kiss against your lips before pulling away to stare at you with a mixture of disbelief, happiness, and utter worry. “W-When…When did you know?”

You shrugged, looking down at your stomach, “I didn’t feel much like myself yesterday. Thought I was sick at first so I went to Mo’at today just to give me some medicine. Then she told me I was pregnant—”

Your words turned to a small squeal when Jake lifted you up into a hug, the both of you now standing. “I love you so much!” He said breathlessly, pressing his face into your neck once he put you down. “I can’t believe it…”

“You’re not nervous?” You asked, despite yourself. Jake pulled away slightly to look at you curiously. “I mean—do you think I will be a good mother?”

Jake smiled softly, caressing your cheek, “I can’t believe you don’t see what I see. You’ll be an amazing mother, Doc. I know that for certain.”

Teary eyed, you pulled him back into a hug, allowing yourself to relish this moment of happiness. “We’re going to be okay. That I believe.”

He pressed a long kiss against your cheek before muttering against your skin, “Hopefully it’s twins.”

You cocked your head back, “Shut up, Sully.”

“What? I was a twin! It’s about time I had some!”

“You’re out your damn mind!”

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @jakesullylvr @s-u-t @ssc7514 @cheari @tojigirll @nyotamalfoy @perfectprofessorloverapricot @naityelen @dumb-fawkin-bitch @raggedyoldwitch @nhemmingsf @biooiuygjjgfsrb @thatsenoughformelol @thotd-f1 @beaniebeensbaby201 @theoriginalwife000 @3leni @23victoria @lovesickollie @atxara @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @ladylovegood-69 @lovekeeh @lilithmoon14512 @n7cje @fyfy-world @cleverzonkwombatsludge @goddesslilithmoriarty @itszzmoon @eternallyvenus @bajadotcom @ducks1188 @alexandra-0011 @sweetllamaparadise @padfootsvixenn @avatarmasterlistblog

#to you worlds away #avatar jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully #jake sully #avatar jake #jake sully x reader #neytiri #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #sam worthington #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #avatar

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miryum · 10 months

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 14

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp @multifandom-loser

Warnings: Swearing, uhhhh talk of war and..... FLUFF (aka kissing and YAY we’re finally getting somewhere!!!!)

ao3 link next chapter>>

A loud banging awoke you suddenly. You bolted upright, breaths coming irregularly. “What’s happening?!” Your covers tangled around your feet and you kicked them away.

“My lady!” Sara burst into the room. “Lord Jules is requesting your presence right away!”

The clanging continued and you wanted to cover your ears. “What is that?”

“Warning bells.” Sara helped you pull on your robe. “They’re sounding from every village.”

“Why?”

“Princess, I’m not at liberty to disclose that. Lord Jules will explain everything. Please, you need to go downstairs!” Sara practically pushed you down the hall and towards the steps.

It had been three weeks since you first arrived at Schumacher Estate. You had spent your time writing letters to Charles and Prince Verstappen and conversing with Jules and Pierre. As it turns out, Jules had hilarious stories about Charles as a child and all the antics he had gotten up to. Jules also had insights into the tensions between Redull and Enza and you spent many a meal grilling him on all he knew. Jules laughed at your concerns and assured you everything would be alright. He had turned into a much needed calming presence in your life.

When you weren’t arguing with Pierre, sharing tea with Jules, or writing to your husband, you were put riding with Lando. It helped take your mind off anxieties that plagued your mind and Lando commented on your quick learning.

“Steward Jules,” you bent at the waist, quickly righting yourself. “I was told- Charles?!” Across the room, there stood your husband. His clothes were in tatters and his hair was ruffled, dirt smeared on his face. Blood speckled his clothing and a gash tore through his bicep.

A look of shock crossed his face as you barrelled into him, clutching him tightly. After a moment, he carefully wrapped his arms around you. Charles felt you nestle into him. He paused for a moment, waiting for you to break away. But you didn’t. He took the opportunity to hug you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t know when he'd have the chance to hug you like this again. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes. I was worried about you. And I missed you.” You stepped back, becoming aware of the other people in the room. Jules hid his smile. “What are you doing here? And why do you look so… dishevelled?” You wiped some of the dirt from his forehead. Charles made a face and jokingly pushed your hand away.

Pierre laughed. “That’s a nice way of saying you look like a piece of shit.”

“Pierre,” Jules reprimanded him. It was then that the men remembered what they gathered for. The tension grew insurmountably and tense looks were thrown around. “Now is not the time. Charles, please continue.” It was then you realised that Charles had demanded you to be in the room before his announcement.

“Enza is at war.”

It seemed as if all faded away as Charles explained how Redull troops had stormed the Enza palace and taken Lorenzo prisoner. He explained how he had barely escaped, having to fight off half a dozen men just to get to the stables and find a horse. He explained how he saw his friends and subjects fall in a haze of blood.

He explained how Williams forces fought alongside Redull.

“Y/n? Cherié?” Charles stepped towards you, cupping a hand along your cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I can fix this, I promise! If I can just talk to my parents they’ll have to see- I mean they can’t just- but what of our alliance?” You shook your head and extracted yourself from Charles’ embrace.

Jules gripped Pierre’s forearm and whispered something to him. Pierre nodded, stoic for once, and followed Jules out of the room. You barely registered their exchange.

“Y/n,” Charles sighed and hung his head. “We- Enza doesn’t have an alliance with Williams anymore. I’m sorry to tell you.”

“What?” You felt your world slipping out from under you. Charles led you to a couch where your legs folded under you and you collapsed. “But how could they…? They promised. They signed a treaty, Charles!”

“I know,” Charles sat down next to you. He had his hands clutched in his lap and you desperately wanted them to be holding you- comforting you.

“Don’t they know the consequences?”

“They don’t care, Y/n. They have Redull to back them up. I… I don’t know if we have the resources to fight them.”

“But Enza is one of the most powerful kingdoms.” You felt your love for your home kingdom slipping away. Instead, it was replaced by love for your husband’s home. Enza, and its people, had welcomed you with open arms and only wanted to see you happy and comfortable. Williams had done none of those things.

“But how can we be powerful without the people?” Charles’ voice started to grow. He stood up and started pacing. Mindlessly, he ripped off his sleeve and wound it around his hurt arm. “Y/n, if you’d seen what I’d seen, you wouldn’t think a simple conversation with your parents could solve anything. I- I don’t know if my mother is alive or where they’re taking my brothers.” His voice cracked. “Helpless and innocent servants were slaughtered just trying to protect me. This cannot be settled over a cup of tea. Enza must fight back, but with what?” It was like he was having a conversation with himself. “They rampaged the villages before the castle. If they haven’t killed the knights by now, they will soon. It’ll take days before reinforcements and allies can come to our aid, and by then, Enza will be split between Redull and Williams. How they managed to get through Wolff and Haas without conflict is beyond me. I’ll have Jules send word to our allies and demand they meet here. It’s the only safe house we have left. Laren and Tauri are on our side, and hopefully Wolff and Haas. But without Williams…” he trailed off, glancing at you.

You were curled into yourself, still in your nightclothes. Your breathing was erratic and shallow. Your gaze was fixed on the opposite wall. And betrayal was written on your face. While Charles studied you, you slowly looked up to meet his eye. “Charles, what does this mean for us?”

It was not the question he was expecting.

“What do you mean, cherié?”

“We were the ones holding the treaty together. But now, with it null and void, what does that mean for us? For our marriage?” Charles hated the uncertainty in your voice, but he hated the sadness even more. The desperation.

“Y/n, I didn’t want to tell you, but because the alliance is broken, so could our marriage be. If you wish, you could return to Williams and be free of my name.” Charles couldn’t look you in the eye.

“You knew about this?” Your lips parted in shock as you stood to meet his stance.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I’ve known for three weeks.” His breath hitched, yet his voice continued to rise. “But I couldn’t bring myself to tell you-”

“Why?” You demanded, “Charles, this decides our future and I would think I should be a part of that! Why couldn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I love you!” Charles cried. “Because I love you and I couldn’t lose you.”

Oh.

“Charlie…” At the same time, it was as if your heart broke, yet filled with love. The hopelessness that rang out through Charles’ words was quickly masked by their meaning. “You love me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Charles chuckled awkwardly. He looked up to find you in front of him, hand hovering over his cheek. He wanted nothing more for you to close the distance and touch him. If you did, Charles was content staying in your touch as the rest of the world burned around him. He just needed you.

“I think it was when you showed up at the Foundling Villa for the first time?” You shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Or maybe during our carriage rides? I’m not sure.”

“What are you talking about?” Charles frowned, a loose smile on his lips. You decided that you liked the soft curve of his lips and the brown flecks in his green eyes.

“I’m trying to figure out when I fell in love with you.” You shrugged, finally letting your hand settle into his face. Your thumb brushed along his cheekbone.

Charles’ eyes fluttered shut and his breath was shaky, but his smile grew. “I like that. Wait, you… you love me too?” You nodded. “I- I never thought you would love me.”

“Neither did I,” you confessed.

Charles chuckled. “You called me Charlie. I like that.”

A deep aching filled your chest and you finally had a name for it: love that was so strong you could feel it in your bones. Little did you know, Charles was feeling the same way. “Can I kiss you?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“You don’t have to ask, cherié.” Charles smirked and you didn’t realise he could get even more attractive.

The kiss was chaste at first, but when Charles placed a hand on your waist, pulling you against him, it deepened. You wrapped your arms around Charles’ neck, desperate to feel more of him. With a laugh, he pulled away, pressing kisses along your neck. You joined him in quiet laughter as he started gently nibbling along your collarbone. You tried to hold back a moan when he ran his tongue over a mark that was sure to show in the morning. “Don’t hold back on me, cherié,” Charles’ chuckles rumbled through his chest. Heat flushed through your body.

“Wha- what of the war?” you asked. Your eyes closed as Charles started sucking on a new spot.

“Jules will- hmm, send out the letters. There is little we can do until then.”

“I guess you’re right,” you conceded.

Charles raised a brow. “Would you like to continue the wedding night?”

Your heart started beating a little quicker. “Lead the way.”

😁 😘 You’ll have to wait until the next chapter!

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