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honey-pages · 1 month ago

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On Your Knees - Viktor x Reader

Description -

After confessing his attraction to you, Viktor invites you to visit him in his room.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. Blow job.

You had been seeing Viktor now for a week or so, after he expressed his feelings in an unexpected confession. You had been working as his assistant previously and he detailed that he could not, in good conscience, act on his urges when he was in a position of power - as much as you would have wanted him to. Therefore, after your job role changed and you became more independent in your duties, Viktor was back in your line of vision.

It was a well-kept secret that you both were so suited to each other. The other assistants and staff at the lab had their suspicions of your intimacy, but Viktor, noticing the subtle glances, had clarified.

“No, no. Miss (Y/N) is my assistant. I would not take advantage, no matter how charming I may find her.”

You were surprised at his openness. The conversation had gotten back to you through a friend and what could have been understood as a gentle complimentary joke, to you, meant the world. When you finally built up the courage to ask Viktor privately about this, he confirmed. Yes, he had meant it. Although he had also mentioned that a public announcement was not really the way he had intended on doing it.

You had been close since and were still in your early stages of the budding relationship. You decided it was probably time to pay him a visit. He had invited you to his room at around dinnertime. But dinnertime is an ambiguous concept for Viktor as he eats when he can fit it in, and so knowing what time to arrive was a risky decision.

You made a guess that around now was the right time and so you set out for his room. It was oddly quiet around and the walk between your rooms was not too far, you only passed a few people and no one you were well acquainted with. You approached his door after a long corridor. He had told you previously when he had invited you over to just walk straight in and not bother knocking, but that felt a little strange not knowing if he was expecting you or not. Nervousness made its appearance, and you paced slightly while considering your options. There must be a reason that he would encourage you not to knock. This was Viktor. There was probably some unknown secret project that was sound sensitive or something along those lines. You decided to walk in without knocking.

Viktor's door opened silently into a hallway which, in turn, opens into his living and workspace. His work desk is in his living room you remembered, although the light suggests that he is currently on his sofa. You put down your bag and kick off your shoes – its polite practice. You quietly turn the corner to face his living room, hoping to not disturb him by chance he was sleeping or working. In front of you, central to the sofa, Viktor sat with his hand around his cock.

His head was fallen back against the backrest of the chair and his eyes were closed. His mouth hung open, his face jerking around with the furious motion of his arm. He was panting, lost in the pleasure he was giving to himself. You had not seen him like this before. Sure, you had shared a kiss or so and light touching, but to see him so primal and vulnerable, so explicit. Standing and watching as he pleasured himself ignited some deep lust you had not yet unleashed for him, something strong and needy and -seeing him like this? - desperate.

His raw moans seemed to bring out vague words, peppered with the sound his hand made when reaching the bottom of his shaft. A repeated light slapping sound.

“Oh, fuck- “He choked out, softly to himself, as though he was struggling for breath. “(Y/N) …”

You freeze up a little bit at your mention. It suddenly made the situation so real, so red, so lustful.

“Yes?” You reply hushed, in fear of startling him, marvelling at him as though he was some mysterious undisturbed presence.

He jolted in his seat a little at your reply.

“How long have you been watching?” He managed, his grip loosened and slowed, now taking twice as long from tip to base, but not ceasing. A blush swept his face.

His hair fell around his face as he raised his head forwards, fixing his eyes on you the second they opened. He held you there in intense intimacy. You had no idea what to reply. You did not want to give the impression you had stood there fixated for too uncomfortably long. But how long had you been stood there? You had no idea. You were lost in this train of thinking when the thought of him reemerged.

“I um- Just a minute I think?” Was all you could string together; you were flustered seeing him like this.

“Come here” He purred, patting his knee with his free hand.

You approached him carefully, stomach in knots.

“Please, Miss (Y/N), on your knees”.

You lower yourself before him, settling yourself between his thighs on your knees.

“I really did mean it when I said I found you charming.”

He smiles warmly, his hand still slowly stroking himself. His gaze is intense, focused and fixed. He looks into your eyes, maybe watching the reflection of the light in them that made them glint, or maybe watching the outline of his cock in their reflection. It was unbreakable. The bond between you was powerful, inevitable even.

“Now please, (Y/N), open your mouth for me.”

You moved your face forward, level with him. His intense focus eased to a warmer output of eager want, his eyebrows hiking up at their insides, his face ready to melt itself into the open-mouthed submission he was offering you. You cast him a smile in return, a guarantee that you will satisfy. Your mouth salivated, and you hold him gently in one hand, lowering your mouth to run your hot tongue from the base of him to the top.

He shudders instantly, gripping the base of the sofa more firmly with his legs to steady himself, his head falling back once more, breaking the eye contact. His hand is propped lightly against his thigh, and at this sensation he tenses and flexes his fingers. Trailing your way up and down him, you flick your tongue over the tip, before engulfing him into the heat of your wet mouth. At this, his eyes open, and he stares breathlessly at the ceiling. Both of his hands come to meet at the back of your head and fix themselves into your hair, holding firmly but gently.

“Oh, fuck.” He mutters out a few unintelligible words before he settles on some that are understandable, “Your mouth- you’re…please, slow down.”

His grip in your hair holds tighter as his hips begin to jerk themselves upwards, betraying his composure. His eyes flash down to ensure he’s not choking you in doing so, he knows his size is more than adequate.

“Do you mind if I?” He asks, beginning to slowly take control of your head, moving it at his will to use your mouth as he wishes.

“No, you don’t mind, do you? You look too content in the knowledge that you’ve almost tipped me over the edge already Miss (Y/N).” A small grin seeps into his smile, dirty and knowing.

You work hard on matching the rhythm he is setting you with the pace of your tongue. You wrap it around him and swirl it in time with his upward thrusts, pushing and pulling him further into your mouth, to fill and force his way into the barrier of your throat. Your spit is beginning to drip at the corners of your mouth, down your chin, and he notices, wiping it away with his fingers.

“So very beautiful. I have always thought so, but now its undoubtable. You are going to swallow all of me, aren’t you?”

You nod in satisfaction; you can’t wait to see him undone. At your consent, he speeds up once more, becoming more frantic and fast without sacrificing his gentle hold. His whimpers turn into moans and expletives and his throat is purring. You feel him get harder and stiffer under your hands and tongue as he comes to his end.

“I’m going to- “He pants, “Its- “

You push him deeper than before, holding him there as you feel his cock spasm, pulsating as it thrusts forward, filling you fully.

“Oh fuck, (Y/N)- “

You swallow him. He wheezes as he catches his breath back, red faced and sweating, he sits still for a moment. After resting for a few moments, stroking your hair with his hand, he pulls you up onto the sofa next to him. He draws you close, wrapping his arms around you and bringing your head to his bare chest.

“I got quite carried away there.” He manages, hands finding their way to your shoulders, moving to tilt up your chin to face him. “I didn’t go too fast, did I?”

You smile and shake your head as a reply, seeing him fully relaxed and finished has left him dishevelled and hot and his warmth is meting into yours as you lay on him.

“I think it’s time I return the favour.”

#viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor smut #viktor lol #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #arcane

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suguru-getos · 1 year ago

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୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 26﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Yandere Itachi Uchiha x F!Reader -> Breeding

Warnings: Dub!con, yandere themes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of baby trapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulative Itachi, pregnancy of breeding!kink. Itachi is still soft because yeah >\\< and fluffy if you squint

It's the ridiculously delectable way, her doe-eyed self cowers down beneath him whenever she loomed in his presence. He adores her, watching her fidget every time Itachi says something, every time he glances at her unmomentarily. She is akin to a deer, and Itachi- a lion, a ruthless, sadistic lion wanting nothing more but to tame his prey, but no- he doesn't just want to prey on her, he wants to love her. He wants her to love him, to subdue everything she can for him.

It's the way he always excuses his behavior with the sentence that chains her neck, boiling down her very core. "It's all to protect you, to keep you safe." When he addresses her as an 'Angel' she loses a little faith in god, because no angel's wings should be pinned down as hers, the way Itachi does it.

No, he does not hurt her, but he does make sure she doesn't hurt herself, sometimes confinement and solitude is the most amicable way to stem down the essence of a punishment and a lesson. Treason, if you will.

He still feels insanity grip the very nerves of his self when she approaches him, slouching as if she'd break if she stood tall. He would break her for standing tall & sniveling at him to let her go. "Hmm, maybe bestowing you with some responsibility will help, you've become quite air-headed, dear Y/N."

Oh, it desolates his perfect, controlled mind when he imagines her tiny self inflated with his seed, having trouble pacing around, needing Itachi with every little beck and call, the vulnerability which will come with her last semester, how she will struggle to hold her urine when the little Uchiha would kick and eagerly wait to see Mother and Father... how adoring.

It starts slow, after months of living together with Itachi, she knows how to read him, how Itachi's eyes glint towards the impending, she wouldn't be unjust, Itachi treats her kindly when he demands something, especially when it needs his fragile, male ego stroked and petted.

So she complies, as he spreads her apart naked, pupils visibly dilated as his gaze turns tender, more subtle. As if she'd break under him, a vile part of him wants to break her instantly. Itachi is a paradox, after all. "It's okay, my angelic little thing." You're doing so well for me. His luscious, long hair tickles her tender breasts as Itachi leans in, kissing her neck, scraping at the sensitive, irritated skin & deviously marking her up. "Oh no, don't cry, I'm going to be gentler." He dotes on her being a sensitive crybaby, can't handle his length, can't handle him.

Oh but the little being Itachi owns, is ferocious on her own, knowing most ardently she has him in her grip, "Wa-ant to go out after this." She manages to barely choke out when Itachi's member ravishes her cunt, thrusting, rutting his hips inside, churning them up to his shape. Itachi couldn't say no to that face, the future mother of his kids. "Anything... Angel."

"Will you let me fill you up?" Itachi asks though she doesn't have any choice but to, Itachi is a master, a sorcerer of illusions and to earn her goodness, to pretend she owns the decision of freedom, ever so fleeting choices that are nothing but a mirage; Itachi loves that.

She nods, biting her lip like an anxious child, the background thoughts all super setting the imagery of her being pregnant, she's too far gone now though. Stockholm Syndrome hugs her every night along with the slender arms of her lover. She wants to please him, simultaneously hating herself for the same as she nods, feeling the thrusts slow down, sloppy and then the warmth of his seed deep inside her gummy walls.

"Nothing, Angel, without you... I'm nothing."

#itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi thirst #itachi smut #uchiha thirst #uchiha smut #uchiha x reader #naruto thirst #naruto smut #naruto x reader #naruto shippuden x reader #itachi x you #uchiha x you #naruto imagines #itachi imagines #naruto kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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helluvapoison · 10 months ago

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Save Me

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

warning: violence n blood but happy ending

“Summon your blue blood master, whore.”

The demon carelessly drops your phone into the cage and it lands at your knees. You don’t remember if this was a ransom or a hit on your beloved. You can’t bring yourself to care because you know the minute he sees you in this state, none of it will matter.

Your tongue darted out and swiped over your cracked lips, gathering the copper taste of your own blood. The chuckle that you let out is dry, cut short by a cough that worsens the state of your throat. It highlighted the bruises littering your skin, especially those you couldn’t see.

He would.

“This is gonna end real badly f’you.” You tell the demon hoarsely, offering them the biggest, meanest smile you could muster.

Your thumb hits the call button without hesitation.

You hadn’t even uttered a single word.

Immediately the energy in the warehouse shifts. An undeniable chill crept in suddenly and seemed to chase off any light the windows provided. Someone may as well have thrown a blanket over the building. If not for your phone providing a faint glow, you wouldn’t have been able to see your labored breaths leaving your lips. Simultaneously, the shitty bones of the warehouse trembled, quietly at first then ramping up to a deafening sound that surely meant it would collapse at any moment. It wouldn’t. Not while you were there. Even if it was only your body for him to collect, no damage would come unto you by his doing.

The demon’s eyes narrow in suspicion, like whatever was happening was your fault and yours alone. Your crooked smile widens into a malicious forewarning for what’s to come. The grin pulls and tears the cut on your lip that had only just stitched itself together, stinging you in retaliation. You’re certain the light illuminating you from below, combined with the blood, has you looking positively mad.

“Told you.”

Lucifer was more than a king; he was the judge, jury and executioner for his subjects. It wasn’t often they forgot it but should they do something drastic, such as stealing his beloved, then he would make an example out of as many souls necessary. You knew this and you knew it well— you’ve been around every century or so when the newer sinners needed a refresher. This just so happened to be your first time being directly involved in why.

It must be then that the harrowing realization finally sets in. They’ve bit off more than they could swallow and now it was going to choke the life out of them. Or, more accurately, he would.

Apparently determined to get in what would surely be their final reprisal, they reached into the cage and yanked you forward by your neck. Your forehead quickly meets an icy bar, sending pain ringing through your skull in greeting. Trapped, a mangled cry rips through the room that you don’t recognize is your own. You writhe in the demon’s grip, struggling to claw at their wrists and face. Tearing at their skin, trying to make them even in wounds more than you’re trying to escape, you manage a particularly good swipe at their eyes that makes them reel back. In their stubbornness, they refuse to release you and your face is squished against the cage as they stumble and crash.

No, you realize. They were flung clear across the room like an unwanted doll, landing in, what was now, a pile of wood. Familiar eyes of ruby and gold steal your attention from the groaning demon. You blink furiously, forcing your vision to tell you true. Of course you knew he would come for you, that was never in question, but whether you would be alive or not for that rescue did cross your mind. Your body had already begun to relax, melting with the comforting warmth of your beloved’s presence. Lucifer’s gasp is rigid, his voice trembling in disbelief and rising fury but he manages a soft tone just for your sake.

“Oh, angel. My sweet, sweet dove. I’m here now, I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

Metal creaks under his palms but it takes less effort than opening a jar of marmalade. He’s obscenely gentle while plucking you out of the cage, acutely aware of the way your breath hitches at his touch. Those aforementioned bruises pulse with vigor, spreading a dull ache all over your body. Just as you suspected, Lucifer's eyes roamed all over counting each and every one. He’ll return the favor tenfold.

One minute Lucifer’s holding onto a fraying thread of mercy, studying your precious face and stealing the apple of your cheek. The next he feels tears slide under the pad of his thumb, swiping them into nothingness like he wished he could do your pain. Your relief is palpable in them, he can taste it on his tongue with hints of your fading fear. His golden pupils get smaller and smaller until they’re consumed entirely by red.

Logically he knows you’re right there in his arms but your weight isn’t grounding enough for him. He can’t see you anymore. All he can see is the ugly blotches that some pitiful excuse for future kindling dared to taint you with. Clearly they knew who you were and how important you were to the King of Hell, so the consequences of taking and hurting you had been glossed over but accepted nonetheless. An act against you is no less treasonous than an act against Lucifer himself; to spit at your feet would be to do the same to him.

“You’ve got guts to pull off a stunt like that, huh?” A terrifying grin cracks unevenly across his face and is shot over his shoulder at the demon that was struggling to pick themselves up. “Let’s see ‘em.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shield your face from a gust of wind. Upon opening them you realize you’re sitting on the ground alone. Lucifer unfurled his wings and launched himself over to the demon. They made it to their feet only to be launched into the wall and leaving a them-sized crater behind. Horrified and paralyzed you could only watch as Lucifer hovered over them, cocking back both fists and hurling them forward one at a time.

“I think there was one there, there— oh can’t forget here!”

Even while knowing what was to come, it still made your stomach lurch to see it firsthand. Teeth clattered to the ground in one punch, another and the demon’s eye was swollen shut. You were positive what Lucifer blocked with his body, the savagery you couldn’t see, was much worse. It shouldn’t bother you, not with how long you’ve lived down here but having blood on your hands, no matter how indirectly, made your stomach lurch.

“Luci—“ You croaked, your throat closing in on itself when you tried to speak. It was as if your body had sided with your beloved’s vengeance.

However the tiny sound managed to put a stutter in Lucifer’s next blow, his knuckles halting just before the demon’s face. A frustrated snarl rips from him and cracks through the silence like thunder, but the storm in him quiets before he turns to you. Wracked by guilt more than rage, your beloved can’t fully face you.

You try again, “Can we—“ only to be cut off by a cough.

“Stop—stopstopstop,” Lucifer whispers, voice getting closer, louder, “I’m here, I’m here. Don’t… don’t hurt yourself.”

True to his word, he’s right there. All it took was a blink and he’s kneeling before you, hovering his hands all over as if he’s not sure where to touch you. How can he comfort you when you’re bruised all over? You force yourself to continue, knowing he’ll keep his focus with you if you do.

“Jus’ wanna go home.”

Lucifer’s demonic features flare, hesitation on the tip of his tongue. Unfinished business never seemed like an issue before. With the bewildered look he gave you, you may as well have asked him to throw out his entire duck collection. The thought of using your voice again made your throat itch so you beseech him with your eyes, pinching your brows together and turning them up.

Scrunching his face once more he sighed heavily, seemingly defeated as his horns shrunk back into his skull and his tail retreated. Then your Lucifer returned to you at last, smiling softly, though guilt and regret swam in his crimson eyes.

“Home it is. Agh, I hate when you use your secret weapon against me. It’s not fair, I mean, how am I supposed to resist this face?”

You try to keep your own smile from spreading too far, opting instead to squeeze the man close to you to share in your joy. Lucifer was starving to do the same, holding you as close as he could without stressing your wounds. You could feel him inhale against your neck like you were air to him, filling him with relief and the ability to carry on.

When he pulled away you grew worried, especially when his smile dropped and he turned ever so slightly to the bloodied and battered demon.

“Congratulations, peasant, you’ve been pardoned. Courtesy of the King of Hell and his angel— who you will never ever even think of again. Right?” There was a pained groan from the demon that sent a dark chuckle bubbling up from Lucifer’s chest, “I thought you might agree. Do me a favor and spread the word? I’d rather not do this again. You know what I mean?”

There was a sharp edge to his grin for a moment too long but it faded by the time he eagerly returned his attention to you. The portal below whirred to life with a faint hum and sent pulses of warmth up into the air. You were completely and utterly wrapped up in your beloved that you hardly noticed. Lucifer mumbled into your hair how he would kiss your “boo-boos”, get you bandaged up and in pajamas in no time.

Hearing that, it was a liiittle hard to believe he was the same man that was seconds away from slaughtering someone for you.

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ thanks for voting everyone!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin hotel x you #reader insert

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ashessonfire · 2 years ago

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Hello, i have a potential kaz x reader request for you!! I, for some reason, love the idea of a very soft/domestic kaz moment with reader who isn’t involved in the crime life. So what about y/n being married to kaz and for some reason she makes her way down to the crow club (maybe someone broke into the house or something) and kaz is extreamly confused and concerned and the rest if the crows are like "andddd who are you?"

if you don't feel it, feel free to ignore!

'Intruder' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - Kaz is a highly secretive man, even to his closest friends, but what happens when a panicked citizen rushes into the Crow Club demanding his presence? It could even suggest that he had the ability to love. - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Civilian!Reader (Gender neautral)(married for at least a few years but not specified) - Warnings: Thief enters readers house, brief mention of fighting and injury, a knife?? Kaz just being super soft for you! <333 PART TWO NOW POSTED! (click here) - A/N: Thank you for ALL the love on the last post, and my first fic ever! I hope this does just as well and its enjoyed too. I know its not as fluffy as maybe expected but i really like how it turned out. PLEASE KEEP REQUESTING!!(some moonknight coming soon) <3333

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The chilling wind of Ketterdam rushed past your face, adding to your already watering eyes that couldn’t stop frantically searching around for further threats.

You had been enjoying a quiet morning, browsing the market, drinking tea with friends, and even finding a new hat for Kaz. All was serene, until you turned the lock in the front door, only to be confronted by a menacing figure, knife gripped in one hand, Kaz’s favourite (and most expensive) tea set in the other.

A small gasp escaped you, before your mind took control, rushing forward to land a harsh blow directly on the figure’s nose, just at the right angle like Kaz had demonstrated.

He let out a murderous scream whilst dropping the tea set onto the ground, the shattering of the pieces echoing in your heart and mind. However, this granted you enough time to grab the edge of his jacket and pull him through the doorframe, using every ounce of your strength.

He stumbled down the steps of the small apartment, loosing his footing and falling rapidly, landing brutally on the cobblestone street below and roaring in pain as a jolting crack resounded from where he landed.

Without thinking, you scrambled inside, bolted the door, and ran as fast as you possibly could out of the side entrance, internally crying as your boots struggled through the remains of your husband's most beloved item.

As you struggled through the tight alleyway, you prayed that the Stadwatch had noticed the commotion and apprehended the man. As you bolted down the poorly lit streets of the barrel, thoughts of terror began plaguing your mind.

What if Kaz hadn’t taught you to defend yourself? What if you had reacted too slowly? Would Kaz be angry with you for not finishing the job? How would ‘Dirtyhands’ react to your utter horror at one intruder?

You were abruptly ripped from your thoughts by the unmistakable image of a crow, hanging magnificently above the crowded street. Pushing your way through the crowd, you suppressed the nerves rising in your chest, threatening to choke you, as you entered the crow club for the first time.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

The unmistakable smell of alcohol and smoke clouded your senses immediately, as crowds of ‘pigeons,’ as Kaz may call them, wandered around the floor without a care for others around them.

As frightening as the previous events had been, you didn’t allow yourself to be overwhelmed by this too, shoving your violently shaking hands into your pockets to stop the visible nerves from showing.

Jesper and Wylan sat in close proximity at the bar edge, as far from the yelling and cheering of the customers as they possibly could. Your gazed locked onto the face of the tall Zemeni man, thinking back to the hundreds of times Kaz’s mask had slipped, and he had spoken fondly of his best friend.

Despite Kaz’s firm objection to verbal communication, he often fell victim to your warmth and comfort, his affections for his crew spilling into casual conversation, almost subconsciously. Of course, the Bastard of the Barrel couldn’t hold onto something as weak as friendship. However, this meant that you were very familiar with each of his ‘crows,’ despite never officially meeting any of them.

Mustering all the courage you could, you sucked in a sharp breath, preparing yourself for the challenging journey to your last hope at finding him.

You weaved your way cautiously between the rowdy groups, dodging drunken gestures and swinging arms, until you reached the pair sat at the bar, panic spreading through your body like wildfire. You made note to keep your hands firmly tucked within the safety of your jacket, in a feeble attempt to keep up a façade of confidence.

As their gazes turned towards you, you gently cleared your throat in the hopes of removing any indication of fright, and in turn, weakness from your voice.

“I’m looking for Kaz? Kaz Brekker?” you stuttered out, eyes darting around to avoid the quizzical gazes of the two men in front of you. Under different circumstances you wished to have met them when your usual air of joy blanketed not only you, but all of those who encountered you too. Yet it seemed like the Saints weren't on your side for that wish today.

You were snapped back from your thoughts, as they glanced at each other, sharing an unspoken but clear sense of bewilderment between them at your odd request. Often drunken pigeons, or rough street urchins would request to see the boss, but it wasn’t a common sight to see a regularly dressed citizen in such a state demanding an audience with Mr Brekker himself.

“I’m afraid it’s pretty difficult to get a meeting with the boss, always busy you know?” spoke the man you assumed to be Jesper, in a kind but skeptical tone, swirling the drink in his hand as he failed to decipher the reason for your visit.

Panic began to claw its way deeper into your chest, as you quickly blurted out “Please, its important, I need to see Kaz. Please bring me to see him.” The sudden outburst once again surprised the men, however Wylan’s gaze softened at the clear desperation on your features, and Jesper’s confusion morphed into something that resembled pity.

Wylan subtly leaned into Jesper, whispering “I think you should take her, she seems pretty desperate?” causing Jesper to let out a sigh before meeting your gaze yet again.

Reluctantly, Jesper stood up, stretching his limbs well, before letting out a dramatic sigh, followed by a feigned annoyance at the request, analyzing you for a moment before stating, “Let’s go see the boss then.”

He quickly turned back to you, flashing a lopsided, yet winning grin, which put to rest some of the bubbling anxiety that was becoming inescapable. As you ascended the stairs to his office, a skeptical looking woman glanced curiously up at the three of you, hopping out of her chair to trail behind you, whilst stuffing the remains of what looked like a waffle into her mouth.

Before you could inquire about the third individual following your small group, you were suddenly met with the dark oak door of Kaz Brekker’s office. Jesper shot another reassuring grin back at you, as he rapidly knocked on the office door and let himself in before an answer called out.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

The instant you saw your husband, the tears glossed over your eyes, shining with a dangerous threat of escaping. However, to your surprise, you were able to win the valiant battle for a little longer.

You knew how vital it was for your husband to keep his personal life separated from his work life; one wrong move, and you could end up in the hands of another gang, tortured in exchange for information on the Dregs. This knowledge was what kept you from barreling towards his desk without a second thought, with even the smallest slip from Jesper potentially ruining every bit of yours and Kaz’s struggle to break down his walls.

Kaz sat at his desk at the centre of the bleak room, a faint patch of light hitting his face from a glowing street lantern, casting deep shadows across his sharp features. His shoulders tensed as he remained solely focused on the blueprint in front of him, his harsh glare at the sheet almost seemed as if he was planning to murder it. Perhaps if you weren’t so shaken you may have let out a soft laugh at his pure concentration.

“What is it? I have no time for irrelevant interruption, this marksheet needs to be completed before twelve bells tonight,” A sharp voice suddenly cut through the thick silence. Jesper cleared his throat before confronting his boss, shifting his weight between each foot at the temper that Kaz was evidently displaying.

“Well, you see, I was sitting downstairs with Wylan at the bar, when all of a sudden…” Jesper started, but was cut off by a deadly look from Kaz to get to the point. As his gaze shot upwards towards the sharpshooter, he finally noticed the second figure in the room and his heart plummeted.

Why were you here?

Kaz’s mind began spinning, grasping for any logical reason as to why you were in the one of the most dangerous staves of the Barrel, requiring his assistance.

An identical panic to yours seized his chest as he inspected your state, your hair was windswept, eyes glossed over and glinting with a touch of fear, a visible shake to your arms and legs, which he had been fortunate enough to never experience until now.

You looked utterly terrified.

A single murderous look was enough for Jesper to throw his hands up in defense, and saunter quietly out of the room, glancing curiously back at the two of you as he shut the door. Jesper thought to himself that his life in the long run would be far more valuable than the price of his curiosity now.

Although Kaz is a man of few words, he seemed truly speechless, barely managing to register his own steps as he moved slowly towards you, each limp bringing his comfort closer and closer to you. Once he had reached your figure, he noticed you had curled in on yourself, hands clasped firmly together in front of you, and eyes darting rapidly around his face, searching for something, as it appeared to him.

He slowly reached towards you, and with a gloved hand, tenderly unwound your fingers from their iron grip, instead intertwining them with his own to bring you comfort and slow your light but swift breathing. Kaz remained tight-lipped, words rushing through his head, yet not formulating into any combination which he thought would be appropriate to calm you down.

He gazed intensely into your eyes, softening with each moment as he took in your shaken state, something that was rare due to his exceptional ability to keep you away from his violent life.

Until now.

Yet you had taught him not to run anymore when he encounters challenges, leading him to battle his mind later, and care for you in the present. Plus, you had the courage to make your way through the barrel in this condition, the least he could do was give you his everything.

You released a long, shaky sigh, staring only at Kaz’s chest now in order to match your breaths, imagining that your hearts were beating together too. You knew Kaz was struggling to find a grip within his thoughts, fingers twitching against your own as his body worked overtime, in a way it only did for you.

Several minutes passed in a strange silence, as the pair of you basked in each other's presence, the close distance allowing both of you to be assured the other is safe and within reach, yet the tension and anxiety still buzzed through the air.

“Someone broke in, I’m not sure who or from where. Tried to steal your favorite tea set, you know the one you brought back from Ravka once? I hit him square like you said. But it, but it boke. Shattered actually. It gave me enough time to run, but I don’t know. He may have followed or…” you suddenly burst out, the emotions flowing out of you through your words, and soon to follow were the tears.

You were cut off in your rambling however, as a feather-light kiss graced your temple, drawing you into a pool of warmth, suddenly able to feel the heat of the fire and the glow of the candles that surrounded Kaz’s office, likely gifts of yours.

Although Kaz’s voice was hardened, you knew he was holding back significantly to soothe you, building up wrath to unleash on the unfortunate man who entered your house earlier. The claws of the anxiety released their hold on you, allowing you to breathe deeply for the first time in hours.

“I’m here, darling, and you don’t need to think about that anymore,” he eventually breathed out, “I'll take care of it. I promise. I promise you,” he whispered against your forehead, again leaving the faintest outline of a kiss on the soft skin.

Whilst he was nowhere near healed, over the years you had opened up his deepest wounds and started to stitch them up, with each moment the pain easing ever so slightly. Direct touches were now common, with light pecks, or hand holding being Kaz's most favored actions.

Sometimes if you were lucky, you could get a short kiss on the lips, or a long hug through the safety of many layers; each being evident signs of his love for you, and how you were truly the only one to crack the code to the Bastard of the Barrel's heart.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Kaz didn’t leave your side for the remainder of the night, bringing you anything you asked for, sitting the armchair closer to his desk to keep him company, hands held tightly until he deemed it safe enough to escort you home.

Wrapping you warmly with his largest coat, he gently placed his best hat atop your head, offering a small smile and breathy laugh as it tilted at an angle. Looking up to meet his gaze, you returned the grin, smile spreading to your eyes and cheeks. Kaz carefully adjusted the edges of the coat to obscure your face, being thorough in the process to avoid any identification of who was accompanying him.

As the door clicked open, and the pair stepped into the hallway, pinkies interlinked, a group of three snooping crows barreled backwards, hitting into each other and the walls. Kaz sent a deathly glare at each of them, as they stood in shock at the sight before them, Jesper gasping, Wylan gaping with fright, and Nina's smirk widening by the second.

After a series of extreme threats hurled at the group outside his office, Kaz pushed past them and dragged you with him, turning his coat collar upwards to hide the growing embarrassment colouring his face.

He crushed the feeling down, instead turning to his internal plotting to enact revenge on your behalf, inwardly smirking at the image of the man begging him for mercy as he pays for his offence in blood.

Meanwhile, Nina stood grinning to herself, proud of her newfound knowledge which she was certain she could use against Kaz at some point soon. Because from that office, she not only heard the hammering heart of the poor citizen girl, but also the one of a love-struck gang leader too.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

#kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader fluff #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader imagines #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n

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blackenedsnow · 1 month ago

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hello i um have a shadow request..if its alright?..can we have shadow with a reader who struggles with self harm and is trying their best to recover but just is struggling...and shadow just gets them down to give them other ways and just cuddles them...and...just..lets his s/o cry all they need to without judgement as they talk about the thoughts in their head...thank you and im sorry if this is well..to..much..

storms

WARNING: Mentions of self-harm, emotional distress, and recovery struggles.

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Hi! I just want to say it’s so brave of you to ask for this, and you deserve comfort, understanding, and warmth. I hope this feels like a soft place to land. Sending you love and strength <333

SUMMARY: When you’re struggling with self-harm urges, Shadow offers comfort, understanding, and a quiet place to heal.

The room was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt suffocating rather than peaceful. Your fingers trembled as you curled them into your sleeves, thoughts swirling like a relentless storm. The urge was there, like a whisper in the back of your mind, convincing you that slipping back into old habits would ease the ache—even just for a moment.

You felt stuck. Trapped between wanting to recover and wanting release. The weight of it made your eyes burn, your breaths shaky.

“Hey.”

His voice cut through the fog. Shadow stood in the doorway, his crimson eyes sharp, perceptive. He didn’t need to ask. He saw it—the tension in your shoulders, the way you refused to meet his gaze.

Without a word, he crossed the room and sank down beside you. His presence was grounding, a quiet reassurance. He didn’t pry or push. He just was.

Shadow reached out, his gloved hand brushing yours, a silent invitation. You let out a shaky breath and took it, letting him pull you into his arms. His chest was firm, his heartbeat steady against your ear.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice low and even. “I’ve got you.”

You tried. Inhale. Exhale. His scent—something faintly metallic, like ozone after a storm—filled your senses, anchoring you.

“I’m trying,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “But I just… it’s so hard.”

His arms tightened around you. “I know.”

You clenched your fists against his chest, the tears finally breaking free. Hot and relentless, they soaked into his fur, but he didn’t pull away. He held you, his hands tracing slow, soothing circles along your back.

“It’s like… my mind won’t stop,” you choked out. “And the only way to quiet it is… you know.”

Shadow was quiet for a moment. “I know,” he said softly. “But hurting yourself won’t silence it. Not for long.”

You swallowed hard. “Then what do I do?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was intense, unwavering. “You do this,” he said. “You let it out. You cry. You scream if you need to. But you don’t do it all by yourself.”

You bit your lip, your vision blurry. “I feel like a burden.”

He shook his head, his grip firm. “You’re not.” He glanced at your wrists, your sleeves pulled low. “When I struggle, I don’t seek destruction. I seek control.” His eyes softened. “Find something else to control. Grip a pen until it bends. Crush ice in your palm. Rip paper apart. But don’t rip yourself apart.”

You let his words sink in, your breathing slowly evening out. He brushed a tear away with his thumb, his touch gentle.

“And if that doesn’t work,” he said quietly, “you come to me. No matter what time it is.”

You managed a weak smile. “Even at 3 AM?”

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. “Especially at 3 AM.”

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog fanfic #shadow x reader #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #x reader #ask #fanfic #request #oneshot

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sashiavi · 1 month ago

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Kent ramble incoming ehehe.. gonna be dumping all my nasty old man ideas onto you and neet cause i love how u two write him <33 (if that’s all right, that is)

But ive been thinking ab the farmer going to a free use/glory hole & Kent following her.. she’s trying to get her feelings for Kent out of her system with an anonymous fuck but she ends up getting used by him without her even realizing. He ends up giving himself away while they fuck and he makes sure she can’t do anything but take it while he admonishes her for even thinking about going to anyone else- nobody will be able to fuck her like he can ( ˋ⁻̫ˊ) Ψ

@neetily we're being fed •///• and now my brain has been sparked, whoops, I wrote smth..

Need Kent to dump his cu

Longing for Kent at the Glory Holes</3

Warnings: age gap, implied infidelity, glory holes, cum.. like a lot of it... piv, fingering, cunilingus, daddy talk, choking, general sashiavi nastiness yk how it is

Word Count - 2k

•·············°·············•♡•·············°·············•

You knew you were wrong for it. Watching the older man from across the bar, late nights at the saloon, knowing better that you shouldn't- You couldn't! You cannot be thinking about him like this.

Not when you're best friends with his son, always around the house, coming out of Sam’s room for a glass of water when you know Kent would be lounged on the couch - Just to give him a little, nervous wave. It was wrong.. skittering around his home with his family around, catching a greedy glimpse of him any time you could, eyes flicking to him at the dining table after his own wife had invited you to stay for supper.

You shouldn't eye him up like that at the luau, eyes locked on to the heavy drag of his boardshorts, weighted down with the drippings of ocean water. Just below his tummy, soft with age and fit with his lifestyle, happy trail moist and tacky against his skin as it disappears into his bottoms. The fabric runs taught on his hipbones, deliciously low before the show is over and he pulls them up with a hook of his thick finger.

You're embarrassing yourself - Wearing pretty outfits in his presence, that ditzy demeanour truly born up from the bubble of anxiety swirling in your tummy from just being around him! So nervous and stuttery, dolly eyes flicking up to Kent's hardened gaze.. Of course it works, of course he starts cracking, falling for a sweet cutie like you.

But you don't know that- So lost in your worrying, dreamy and sweetly moaning into your knuckles as your cunt squelches around your fingers, milky and gushy insides making a mess on your fingers. Crying for him, mewling out his name unapologetically as you carefully sink yourself down on your new dildo - Silky and velvet silicone, fat in width, kissing yours insides while your vibrator buzzes aggressively against your pert clit in an attempt to soothe the wild stretch.

But soon that's not enough, is it? Such fantasies carried out all alone? You needed more, but you couldn't have him... Right?

You couldn't fool around in town either - Whispers would carry faster than the wind. You needed an out.

The Calico Desert was far enough.. An elusive Casino stands with an underground secret, Red Rooms for pleasure, anonymous glory holes for those who just needed a release with no strings attached. A perfect place for your fantasies, with real partners to play with!

Especially your new mystery man..

With his weighty cock poking through the cut out hole in the wall, struggling to stand tall with the sheer thickness of it, bobbing with arousal. It was pulsey, a thick vein running up the undershaft giving a flex as blood rushed to the rosy pink tip oozing up droplets of milky pre cum, practically dripping like drool, Yoba, it was as if it was crying for you.

He was thick, girth making irony saliva pool under your tongue, swallowing proving pointless at the sight of this cock - Picture perfect for your fantasy, a thick brush of hair on his base and balls, sack hanging heavy surely filled with plenty of thick, ropey cum. Scent the perfect musk, it felt manly- One of the traits that drew you to liking Kent in the first place!

Not like the people you hung out with, those younger males that could be the picture perfect partner for you, save for just how unsure they were about everything. Or those other Bachelors.. A little older and still just as lost- Kent had a bout of maturity attached to him, life seemingly plenty figured out, stable.. And yet you wanted to break it down.

Any guilt that dared to ping in your chest didn't last long. Not with the crane of your partner's hips, forcing the head of his cock to press a wet kiss to your cheek. If only he could see the hearts in your eyes, the dribble of spit that slipped from your tongue as you licked your lips

Soon, his length was down your throat, fat and chubby tip gagging up a sweet gurlgy moan, spitty and slick from your lips, wrapped around his thick length. He played rough with you, a heavy hand coming through the hole opening, thick fingers twirling into your hair for a better grip. Forcing your throat to be a personal toy, a rough face fucking you could only dream about.

You jaw aches, stingy with the stretch of this stranger's girth, tongue sore from rough use- Your eyes roll, bleary and pooled with fat tears, looking up all crossyee at nothing, pretending you were locking eyes with the Military Man that had tugged on your heart. Soft hazels surely hardens with a scrunch of his brow, nose crinkled in hot pleasure.. You blink your tears, letting them roll down your cock filled cheeks.

Your pussy drools, pooling behind the sheeny fabric of your panties, sticky to the touch of your fingers as you rub, easily bleeding through the fabric. Your mind chants his name, over and over like a mantra, 'Kent, Kent, Kent~!' Throwing in dirty-sweet petnames into the mix, Would he let you call him Sir? Mister Military Man so strong and authoritive? Would he groan if you cried out something more? 'Daddy, Daddy! Oh pleaseee Daddy!' Begging on your knees for him, that gentle and sweet family man taking out all those frustrations on your body. You breathe against your mystery man's base, huffy and hyper, desperate to take him all.

It's so much, maybe even too much. The perfect fantasy nearly coming true! Just missing that one main ingredient..

No time to think now though, right? Not when your mystery man groans from behind his gritted teeth, fist tightening in your hair when he busts himself down your throat, a healthy dump of cum squirting rope after rope. It's a wonder you don't choke - more than you already had been - With the thick white paint of his cum load, sputtering from your cheeks with a struggled cough fron yourself. He uses it like lube, hips snapping to fuck himself through it all, long and strong, milking out Every. Last. Drop.

You don't want it to end. Wanna keep the lovely weight of this stranger's cock nestled sweetly on your tongue, wanna pepper Kisses and Kitten licks over his flushed tip, wanna imagine you were pampering your older crush, treating him sweeter than any other could.

Ah but he pulls away, forcing up a pitifully sad whine from your throat, making you swallow thickly, savouring the remnants of that musky milky cum he'd gifted you. You lament in the loss, lips pouted in a little wobble, heart hammering blood to your head, beating with the achy throb of your neglected cunt.

The hand in your hair moves to your cheek, cupped warm, skin rough, a calloused thumb tracing over your swollen, cum stained lips.

"S' your turn. Yeah?" His voice was deep. Rasped and rough with a twinge of an accent, hearty and southern, tainted with a touch of age. Yoba your heart flutters- This was too good to be true!

You dare to peek, watery, doe eyes looking up at this man woth a doll-like look, seeing the outline of his features in the dim light - God your chest pangs, a spike of embarrassment, lust, nervousness, excitement, arousal - His thumb pulls on your bottom lip, dragging the swollen plumpness before he let's it go with a pop.

"S'Get 'outta here." The corner of his mouth barely lifts into a quip of a smirking grin.

"Kent..?" Disbelief gnaws at your tone. He only hums, a short sound of agreeance, kicking his head in the direction of the more intimate rooms with a short lift of his chin.

Ooh he treats you well. Head between your legs, lips smacking at the folds of your pussy, heavy hands planted on your thighs while his battle-worn fingers wrap around, blunt nails digging into your soft and sensitive flesh. He feasts like a starved man, suckling at your supple-sweet wetness, fat lapping licks of his pink tongue, jamming the muscle into your cunt hole before he's back on your clit. You squeal and squeak, fingers tugging at his hair, weaving into desperate fists, grinding your core on his lips and tongue- Yoba he takes it too, works with your movements, following your hips in sweet tandem.

He's rough with your cunt, spitting a fat glob of hot saliva before he laps it up, hazel eyes on you as he does so before they flutter shut with a scrunch of his brow and a shake of his head- Devouring your pussy once again, nose jutting into your clit while his tongue fucks past the ring of your pussy.

You have to be ready for him, yeah? Nice and wet and gushy.. Squirting all over his face before he even thinks about sinking his cock into you.

He makes you lick it off of his lips, tongue cleaning up the mess you left on his chin and cheeks, stealing hot slick and saliva filled kisses in the mix, tongues swirling, catching and suckling against eachother as two deft fingers jam into your waiting cunt.

Your fingers were incomparable to his own, too small to reach into the depths of your sweetness, too weak to curl and finger bang the fuck out of your poor pussy, squelchy and wet despite the messy squirt of your orgasm.

"Eyes on me, Darl'.." Kent orders, voice softer than his actions. Your lips part, jaw dropped in hot pleasure, eyes going into a blurred fuzz, his features disappearing as his fingers curl and curl and curl- Until you're left empty, gasping as fingers smack lovingly on your sticky clit, spiky pain and pleasure jutting up your body.

You're not empty for long though, easily plugged up with the thickness of Kent's cock, slowly sinking into your prepped up pussy just like you always imagined with your silly silicone toy. He kisses you through it, the whines and wobbly frown, a hand coming to rest a supple squeeze on your throat, hushing you as he bottoms out.

"S'okay Darlin'.." He coos roughly, hips beginning to hump a pace, rolling grinds against your public mound. "S'What you wanted, right Dolly? Yeahhh? Pretty lil' fuck doll aren'tcha? Thaaaats right.." All coos and sweet words despite the mean squeeze of his palm on your throat and the quick snapping of his hips.

Yoba, he mounts you. Hooking his free palm under your leg, knee to ear while he pounds at your pussy. Plap, plap, plap, skin on skin, wet and slick from the thin sheen of sweat that dared to wash over your skin and the gush of fluids from your supple cunt.

This was it- this was everything you had ever imagined, your perfectly lewd fantasy finally coming to fruition, taking the Kent's thick married cock, lovingly squeezing at his girth, hearts in your eyes as you choke a choppy babble past the tenseness of his hand on your throat; "Wa..nt need- Lov- Y..ou... please- Da..ddy...~"

It's enough to have Kent groaning deep, once fast fucking hips favouring a hard Roll. Slow. Mean. Snapping. Thrusts. Breath huffed in time with his hips, teeth grit as he speaks.

"Tryana' be my Baby? Hmmm?? Daddy's. Sweet. Lil'. Girl?" Words punctuated with his thrusts, pudgy tip kissing your insides with every snap. It seems to have triggered something in him, hazel eyes blown up, pupils dilated big and black, sweat dripping from his brow. "Daddy's sweet n'- Fuck.. His pretty Dolly, yeah??" You nod, strained against the hand on your throat, his fingers guaring your jaw, movement limited, the most pathetic and eager little nod he'd ever seen.

His hand comes off, planting under your other knee and you're manhandled into a dirty mating press, cock drilling into your poor pussy from above.

You knew you were wrong for it. And you're sure he knows it too. But Yoba be dammed if you ever go back to pitiful, longing looks from across the bar after this.

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favefandomimagines · 28 days ago

Text

Aftermath (r.c)

Summary: the direct aftermath of JJ Maybank’s murder

AN: this takes place during loml, my fic about JJ’s death

loml

The boat rocked gently as it cut through the dark, endless stretch of ocean, the distant horizon a blur where the water met the sky. No one spoke.

The only sounds were the lapping of waves against the hull and the occasional creak of the boat as it swayed. The Pogues sat scattered, their usual camaraderie replaced by an oppressive silence that wrapped around them.

Y/N Maybank sat curled in the corner, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her tear-streaked face was angled downward, hidden behind a curtain of blonde hair. Every now and then, her body would tremble, as though another wave of grief threatened to drown her.

Rafe Cameron sat just a few feet away, watching her from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t moved since they’d set sail, glued to her side like a shadow.

He knew better than to touch her or try to say something comforting—words felt meaningless now—but he stayed close, his presence steady, a silent promise that she wasn’t alone.

He hated JJ. Or, he had hated him. The kid was everything Rafe found annoying: loud, brash, and always itching for a fight. But as much as he’d wanted to punch JJ more times than he could count, it was impossible to ignore the gaping hole left behind by his absence.

Rafe glanced back at Y/N. She hadn’t made a sound since they left Morocco but her grief was palpable, radiating off her in waves that Rafe could feel in his chest.

She wasn’t just mourning a brother. She was mourning her other half, her twin, the person who had been with her through every moment of her life.

John B sat at the helm, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on the horizon. Kie and Pope were huddled near the bow, their expressions distant, lost in their own thoughts.

Normally, the Pogues were a loud, chaotic group, but now they were eerily quiet, each of them retreating into their own private pain.

Rafe’s gaze returned to Y/N. Her fingers twitched slightly, brushing against her knee as if she were trying to ground herself. He shifted closer, not enough to invade her space but enough to remind her he was there.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

She didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at him. Rafe didn’t take it personally. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to fix this. JJ was gone. Nothing would change that. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave her alone, not when she looked so broken.

He leaned back against the wall of the boat, his knees bent and his arms resting loosely on them. The ocean stretched endlessly around them, the water so dark it looked black, a mirror for the hollow ache in his chest.

“Rafe,” Y/N’s voice cut through his thoughts, soft and shaky.

He turned his head sharply, surprised she’d spoken. Her eyes were red and swollen, her lips trembling as she struggled to form words.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice gentle.

She shook her head, letting out a choked sob before burying her face in her hands. Rafe’s chest tightened, and without thinking, he moved closer, his hand hovering near her shoulder before finally resting on it lightly.

She didn’t pull away, so he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into him.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The dock loomed closer, a hazy outline against the muted blues and grays of the early evening light.

The weight of exhaustion bore down on everyone as the boat slowed to a crawl, the hum of the engine fading into an eerie quiet.

As they approached the ferry dock, the group noticed the figures waiting on the shore—familiar faces etched with worry and frustration. Kiara’s parents stood side by side, their arms crossed, their expressions a mix of anger and relief. Heyward was there too, pacing with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Sheriff Shoupe stood off to the side, hands on his hips, watching the approaching boat with his usual air of quiet authority. And then there was Luke Maybank, leaning against his rusted truck, his eyes scanning the group as if he were counting heads.

Luke felt a sense of responsibility for this group of kids having left for a foreign country. He told JJ and Y/N who their parents really were and they got wrapped up in something that was, unknown to him, fatal.

The boat docked with a soft thud, and the Pogues climbed out one by one, their movements slow and deliberate, as though every step drained what little energy they had left.

Rafe stayed close to Y/N, his hand holding hers as they stepped onto the dock. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground, her face pale and hollow. But she wasn’t letting go of Rafe’s hand. It was probably the shock, but she was gripping onto him like a lifeline.

As soon as they set foot on land, the flood of questions began.

“Do you know how worried we’ve been?” Mrs. Carrera’s voice was sharp, her worry manifesting as anger. “Running off to God knows where again?”

“You could’ve been killed!” added Mr. Carrera, his voice booming.

Heyward joined in, his frustration boiling over. “What were you kids thinking? This ain’t a game!”

The Pogues stood silently, letting the scolding wash over them like a wave. No one had the energy to fight back. Y/N’s head hung low, wishing she could physically shield herself from the weight of their words.

“Do you have any idea what—” Mrs. Carrera started again, but her voice faltered as she finally took in their faces.

The shift was palpable. The adults’ anger dissipated as they noticed the heavy silence, the grief radiating from the group like a physical force. It was Heyward who first noticed the absence. His brow furrowed, his eyes scanning the group more carefully.

“Where’s JJ?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Luke, who had been leaning against his truck, straightened. His gaze zeroed in on Y/N. “Y/N, where’s your brother?” He asked.

The question landed like a blow. Rafe felt Y/N stiffen beside him, her shoulders jerking slightly as though the words had physically hit her. She took a shaky breath, her hand trembling as she raised it to wipe at her face. For a moment, it seemed like she might not answer.

“He’s…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, trying to force the words out. “He’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Luke’s voice was sharper now, his eyes narrowing. “Where is he, Y/N?”

“Groff killed him, Dad,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “He’s not coming back.”

The dock went silent. Even the sound of the waves seemed to fade into the background. Luke stared at his daughter, his face twisted into something unreadable—shock, disbelief, maybe even guilt.

“Gone?” he repeated, his voice barely audible.

Y/N didn’t respond. Her body trembled, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought to hold back another wave of tears. Before Luke could say anything else, Heyward stepped forward.

“C’mere, girl,” he said softly, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. She collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest as he rubbed her back soothingly.

Heyward had always been more of a father to her and JJ than Luke ever was, and in that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline.

Rafe stood nearby, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he watched the scene unfold. He wanted to comfort her, to take her pain away, but he knew this wasn’t his moment. He stayed rooted to the spot, his jaw tight as he struggled to keep his own emotions in check.

Shoupe cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. “Where’s Groff now?” he asked, his tone businesslike but tinged with a quiet anger.

He should’ve never let them go after Groff. He should’ve handled it himself or the boy that he worked so hard to look out for wouldn’t be gone.

Rafe stepped forward, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “He mentioned something about Lisbon. I’d start there.”

Shoupe nodded, scribbling something on his notepad. “We’ll handle it,” he said firmly. “You kids need to go home. Be with your families. Let us take it from here.”

No one had the energy to argue.

Sarah took Y/N’s hand gently, guiding her toward the deputy’s car that would take them home. The atmosphere outside the dock was heavy, the kind of weight that pressed down on everyone, leaving them emotionally drained.

Y/N lingered by the car, her hands shaking as she tried to wipe away the tears streaming down her face. John B stood with her, saying something before the two hugged.

Rafe stood a few feet away, his shoulders tense as he wrestled with the pull to go to her and the knowledge that he couldn’t force his presence.

Sarah’s hand landed lightly on his arm. “Rafe,” she said softly, drawing his attention. Her tone was gentle but firm, and she didn’t need to say much more for him to know what was coming. “She needs space.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand over his buzzed hair in frustration. “But look at her, Sarah. She’s barely holding it together.”

“I am looking at her,” Sarah replied, glancing toward Y/N, who was now leaning against the car, staring blankly at the ground. “And I know you think you can fix this for her. But you can’t.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “I’m not trying to fix anything. I just… I don’t want her to be alone tonight.”

“She’s not alone,” Sarah insisted. “She has us. She has me. She has Pope, Kie, John B—”

“They’re not what she needs right now,” Rafe cut her off, his voice thick with emotion. “I know her, Sarah. She’s hurting in a way they can’t touch. I can.”

Sarah crossed her arms, studying her brother. There was something different about him now, something uncharacteristically vulnerable in the way his usual bravado was stripped away.

She sighed, her voice softening. “I get it. You care about her. But I know her too, Rafe, she’s my best friend. And caring means giving someone the space to fall apart.”

Rafe looked at Y/N again. Her shoulders were trembling now, barely perceptible, but enough to make his chest ache. The urge to rush to her, to pull her into his arms, was almost overwhelming. But Sarah’s words stuck in his mind.

“Let her fall apart,” Sarah said quietly. “Let her cry, scream, break if she has to. She’ll come to you when she’s ready. But right now, you have to let her take the first step.”

Rafe closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. “And if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Sarah promised. “But only when she knows she can. Don’t take that from her.”

The sound of the car door opening brought their conversation to a halt. Y/N was climbing into the backseat of the deputy’s car, her movements slow and robotic. Sarah touched Rafe’s arm again. “Go home, Rafe.”

He nodded, though every fiber of his being screamed against the idea. “Yeah. Fine.”

The door to Tannyhill creaked open with a soft, hollow sound as Rafe stepped inside, the familiar surroundings of his home almost feeling foreign. His shoes made no noise on the marble floor as he moved through the foyer, his footsteps heavy with the weight of the past few days.

The light from the entryway cast long shadows down the hallway. He dropped his keys onto the console table, the metal clanking loudly in the quiet house. Sofia was sitting in the living room, an unfamiliar figure in the corner of a room that had once felt like a sanctuary.

Sofia’s face was set in a delicate mask of emotion—part anxiety, part guilt. But Rafe wasn’t in the mood for her presence. Not today.

He paused, his brow furrowing. He had been hoping for some peace, for the chance to decompress, to let the exhaustion settle into his bones, but the sight of her—waiting in his house, uninvited—was a reminder that not everything was as it should be.

"I thought I told you to leave." he said, his voice flat, emotionless. Sofia stood slowly, her lips parting as if she were about to say something.

She hesitated, clearly unsure of how to approach him, but there was a quiet urgency in her eyes. “I just… I needed to talk to you, Rafe.”

Rafe exhaled sharply through his nose, the frustration already building. He didn’t have the energy for this.

His mind was still spinning from everything that had happened—JJ’s death, Y/N’s cries echoing in his head,—and the last thing he needed was to deal with Sofia and her betrayal.

“I’m not interested,” he said as he turned to walk past her, heading toward the back door. He needed air. Space. He needed to escape for a moment from the suffocating reality of everything pressing down on him.

But Sofia stepped in front of him, blocking his path. She looked hurt, though Rafe couldn’t bring himself to care. He was done with her games, done with the mess she had caused.

“Please, just let me explain,” Sofia urged, her voice cracking slightly as she took a step closer. “I know I messed up, but I—”

“No.” Rafe snapped, his voice loud and sharp, cutting her off mid-sentence. His anger flared up suddenly, burning hot like a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface all day. “I’m done with the explanations, Sofia. I’m done with the lies. You sold me out.”

Sofia flinched, her eyes wide with regret, but Rafe wasn’t finished.

“You knew what Groff was doing. You knew he was using me, using both of us. You helped him, betrayed me, and then you act like everything’s okay? He killed JJ.” His chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart pounding.

"I just had to pry someone I really care about off of her brother’s dead body, and you think I’m in the mood for your sob story? For your ‘explanation’?"

Rafe’s words hung in the air between them, heavy with emotion and anger. His hands clenched into fists by his sides, the nails biting into his palm. He wanted to keep his voice steady, but the more he spoke, the harder it became to control the rage that threatened to bubble up.

Sofia’s face crumpled at his words. She looked vulnerable, torn between regret and the need to defend herself. But Rafe wasn’t interested in hearing it. Not anymore.

"You broke my trust, Sofia. There’s no going back from that," Rafe continued, his voice cold now. "I’m done with you. Leave the ring and get out."

For a long moment, Sofia just stood there, her eyes searching his face as though she were waiting for some sign, some indication that he hadn’t meant what he said. But Rafe stood still, unmoving, his gaze hard and unyielding.

She took a small step back, and without another word, she turned, took the ring off of her finger, placing it on the console table and walked toward the front door, her footsteps echoing through the quiet house.

Rafe stood in the middle of the room, his breath slow and deliberate as he tried to calm the storm within him. It wasn’t just the betrayal that stung—it was everything. The lies, the manipulation, and how it all led to this. How it all led to nothing.

Rafe didn’t feel relief. He didn’t feel satisfaction. He felt numb. Empty. He had been so sure of what he wanted from Sofia, of what they had shared, but now, in the wake of everything that had happened with JJ and Y/N, he realized that all of it had been a distraction. A poor substitute for something real.

Sofia had been his way of hiding from the inevitable. The consequences of his own choices. The fact that JJ was gone. The fact that Y/N was now left to pick up the pieces of her broken world, and Rafe—he couldn’t fix that. He didn’t know how. He had nothing left to give.

Rafe stepped outside onto the back patio, the cool air washing over him like a balm to his soul. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as the quiet evening settled around him. The house behind him was still and silent, and for the first time, it felt like it might collapse on him.

Reaching into his pocket, Rafe pulled out his phone, his fingers lingering over the screen as he swiped through the photo album.

It was the one he had hidden from Sofia—the one full of late-night selfies, candid photos of Y/N, snapshots from their secret beach dates, moments when the world had seemed just a little bit brighter.

He opened the album. Y/N’s face stared back at him from the screen, her smile a little shy but full of warmth. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Rafe’s chest tightened as he gazed at her, remembering how everything had been before this nightmare started. Before JJ’s death. Before the broken pieces of everything they had once shared.

But that was before. Now, the world felt like a place he didn’t recognize, and Y/N was a person he couldn’t even reach anymore.

It was then that he made a decision. As much as he hated the thought of it, he knew what he had to do. He couldn’t fix her pain.

But he could be there for her. When she was ready, when the dust settled and the grief didn’t feel so suffocating, he would be there.

He would wait.

With a deep breath, Rafe closed the album, his thumb lingering over the picture of Y/N for a long moment. She wasn’t ready yet, but when she was, he promised himself he’d be right where she needed him.

And that was all he could do.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #kiara carrera #john b routledge #rudy pankow #sarah cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe x reader

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edenesth · 8 months ago

Text

Scarlet Requiem

Pairing: emperor!Baekhyun x empress!reader

AU: historical au (Goryeo era)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: In his reign, Baekhyun strived to be a virtuous emperor, all for the sake of his kind-hearted empress, steadfastly resisting the temptations of power that had corrupted those before him. He held onto the belief that this was the key to securing her eternal presence by his side. Yet, he learned, to his heartbreak, that this very resolve would lead to the cruellest loss of all.

Genre: heavy angst

Trigger Warnings: major character death, violence, gore, lots of blood

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Capture that demon before she flees!"

Her hands trembled as she gazed at her reflection in the ornate gold mirror. Once healthy skin now bore a sickly pallor, brown eyes turned crimson, tears staining her cheeks red. Even her jet-black hair had transformed to snowy white. Confusion and fear gripped her as she struggled to comprehend the inexplicable transformation.

As guards roughly seized her arms, she pleaded, "No, please! I've done nothing wrong! I don't understand any of this!"

"Of course, you'd deny it, Your Imperial Majesty," sneered the Minister of Rites, one of many who had urged her husband, the emperor, to accept their daughters as concubines. "Little did you know, those potions you received from the royal healer for the past month were meant to reveal your true nature by shedding your human guise."

Horror pierced her heart as realisation dawned. The tonics meant to maintain her health had been a ruse. She had been poisoned, it explained the sudden and alarming changes in her body and health.

"You," she whispered, the weight of the truth settling heavily upon her. "It was all you."

She was not naive; she understood the ministers' discontent with her influence over Baekhyun throughout his reign. Their persistent attempts to sway him, offering their daughters as concubines to bolster their own power and threaten her position, had not escaped her notice. Their frustration must have reached its zenith when her husband adamantly refused their advances, steadfast in his commitment to her as his one and only empress.

"Hm? I'm not sure I understand what you're implying," the man smirked, his deceptive tone belying his words. "We've long suspected there was more to you, Your Imperial Majesty. It appears you're indeed a demon, effortlessly manipulating the emperor. Surely a man of his stature would desire more than one woman by his side?"

Struggling against the guards' grasp, she retorted weakly, "You vile cowards. You'll rue the day my husband learns of this..."

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, revealing their sinister plot. They had bided their time, seizing the perfect opportunity amidst the chaos of war. With Baekhyun, the virtuous emperor she had wished him to be, leading the army, they saw their chance to poison her, framing her as a demon to eradicate her while he was away.

"Or perhaps we'll witness the rise of the ambitious emperor we've long awaited. He will finally be able to reach his full potential without you here obstructing his path," he sneered, gesturing towards the approaching healer with another bowl of poison. "Just comply and drink your tonic, Your Imperial Majesty. Your suffering will soon end, and our nation will thrive under the rule of a new emperor, liberated from your naive ideals."

As the sinister men tightened their grip, she sobbed in agony, the relentless headache from the past month resurfacing with a vengeance. Each touch felt like a dagger through her skull, each word a cruel reminder of her plight.

With an apologetic bow of his head, the healer cupped her jaw, his hands trembling as he forced the bowl of poison towards her lips. "Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty," he whispered, his voice trembling with remorse. "This will be the last one, I promise."

She gagged as the bitter liquid slid down her throat, burning with each swallow. Crimson tears streamed down her white face as she choked on the vile concoction, feeling her strength wane with each passing moment. In that desperate moment, all she could do was pray for salvation from the nightmare consuming her.

As the healer finally released his hold, she felt despair engulf her. The bitter poison settled within her damaged insides, coursing through her veins like a silent killer, slowly consuming her from within.

"It is done, my lord. The empress will not survive through the night," the healer declared, his voice carrying a finality that chilled her to the bone.

The minister's grin widened with satisfaction. "Excellent. Arrange for someone to confirm her death by dawn. Let her enjoy her final moments in the comforts of her own chambers. His Imperial Majesty will surely be grateful we've rid him of his treacherous demon of a wife upon his return from war."

Laying limply in the centre of her grand chambers, the very space she had once despised before ascending to empress, memories flooded her mind. She recalled the scepticism that clouded her heart when she first found herself falling for the crown prince of the nation. After all, history had taught her that no happy endings awaited the women who loved emperors. But Baekhyun was different—he was loving, caring, and considerate, going to great lengths to prove his devotion to her.

He swore never to take concubines, to resist the allure of power, and to remain hers, and hers alone. Despite the admiration of the entire nation, he remained committed to prioritising her above all else, even if it meant drawing the ire of his ministers and officials. Their accusations of his partiality towards his empress over his nation only served to strengthen his resolve, his unwavering loyalty to her.

But now, as she lay weakened by poison, she realised the tragic irony of his goodness. It was his very commitment to righteousness that led him to the battlefield, refusing to let his men fight in his stead. And it was this decision that ultimately sealed their fate, leaving her to face the consequences of his noble intentions.

As the darkness closed in around her, she couldn't help but wonder how Baekhyun would react upon returning to find her lifeless form in this state. Would he succumb to the poisonous words of his ministers, believing their accusations that she had been a demon all along? Would he entertain the notion that she had bewitched him, clouding his judgement and leading him astray?

Or would he remain firm in his loyalty, unwavering in his belief that this was nothing more than a cruel ploy to rid him of her for good? In the depths of her fading consciousness, she desperately clung to the hope that he would see through the lies, that his love for her would prevail over doubt.

On the brink of death, she yearned to trust in his endless devotion to her, to believe that he would never doubt the love they shared. It was a fragile hope, but in that moment, it was all she had to cling to as she slipped further into the darkness, awaiting the inevitable arrival of dawn and the fate it would eventually bring.

"Forgive me for not being strong enough, Baek," she whispered into the stillness of the chamber, her voice barely a breath against the heavy silence. "Please don't blame yourself for any of this."

As the darkness threatened to swallow her entirely, she couldn't help but reflect on the warnings of history, the cautionary tales of women who loved emperors, only to meet tragic ends. Once again, it seemed, she had fallen victim to the same fate.

Her vision blurred with crimson tears as memories flooded her mind—moments shared with Baekhyun before he departed for battle, blissfully unaware that they would be their last. Each memory stung with bittersweet intensity, a painful reminder of what could have been, had fate been kinder.

As her life ebbed away, flashes of cherished moments with him flickered through her mind like scattered stars in the night sky.

Wrapped in the warmth of silk sheets, doubts clouded her mind one morning, questioning her husband's resolve to remain faithful amidst the pressures of his position.

"Would you truly refuse to take any concubines, Baek?" she inquired, her voice laced with uncertainty. "You're aware that the ministers and officials desire it, and perhaps even the citizens of our nation. For all we know, the people might have grown weary of this same dull empress who has yet to bear you an heir."

He drew her close, pulling the silk sheets higher to shield her bare form from the chill seeping through the open windows. Pressing a tender kiss upon her head, he smiled reassuringly. "Never, my love. I do not care for their political machinations. I won't forsake my vow to you. You will remain my only wife, that is final. I did not ask to be emperor, the role was thrust upon me. Now that I am here, they should at least be grateful I am fulfilling my general duties."

She chuckled, nestling into the crook of his neck as he added, "Besides, if the ministers and officials are so displeased, they could just dismiss me. That would be even better; we could live in a quiet little village, just as we've always dreamed."

In another memory, standing before her reflection, plagued by insecurities instilled by the scheming ministers, his unwavering admiration melted her fears away.

"You look beautiful, my empress. You always do," he reassured, approaching from behind to envelop her in his arms.

"Not as beautiful as those young maidens, I fear. I am old," she confessed, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness after witnessing the ministers' attempts to seduce the emperor with their daughters.

Baekhyun gently turned her to face him. "If you're old, then I must be ancient," he teased. "I believe it's only fitting that I am with someone my age, and that's you, my empress. I have no interest in marrying children or anyone else for that matter; I am a taken man. Don't you dare compare yourself to anyone else again, you hear me? You're the most beautiful woman in my eyes, and that's all that matters."

In the final embrace before he departed for war, hearts heavy with the uncertainty of his return, they clung to each other.

"I will be back before you know it, my love. You'll wait for me, won't you?" her husband murmured against her neck, his arms tightening around her.

"Where else would I go, you idiot? Of course, I'll be waiting right here," she retorted, tightening her hold around his shoulders.

Amidst tears and laughter, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, pressing his lips against her soft ones over and over again to imprint the sensation into memory.

"I love you, my empress," Baekhyun whispered against her lips before pulling away, his eyes full of love and determination.

In the quiet of her chamber, she found solace in the fleeting recollections, clinging to them as the darkness threatened to consume her entirely. And as the crimson tears clouded her eyes once more, she resigned herself to the inevitable, silently bidding farewell to the life she once knew.

"I love you too, my emperor."

"I will not ask again, where is she?!" the emperor's voice thundered through the throne room as he stormed back into the palace, abandoning the battle upon learning the shocking revelation. According to the Minister of Rites in his letter, the empress had been discovered to be a demon all along, concealing her true nature under human skin to manipulate him and bend him to her will.

The eunuch panicked and fell to his knees. "Th-the empress is confined to her grand chambers, Your Imperial Majesty!"

Without uttering another word, Baekhyun stormed over immediately, his heart thumping loudly against his chest as fury overtook his being. Betrayal flooded his veins; he was seething with anger.

"You will regret lying to me," he growled under his breath, his vision zeroing in on the path towards her chambers, the place he frequented more than his own. "You will regret deceiving me."

Upon reaching the entrance of her chambers, he turned to the eunuch. "Gather all the ministers and officials who played a part in discovering the empress as what they claimed her to be in the throne room. I wish to speak with them soon."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," the eunuch hurriedly replied before darting off to carry out his orders. Baekhyun steadied his breaths, his hand resting on the door as he prepared to face her once more. Under his breath, he vowed, "I swear, you will all regret it. How dare you accuse my wife of being what you are—demons."

I'm here now, my love.

Stepping into the familiar room, the emperor's heart raced with anxiety as he mulled over a perfect apology. He needed to express his deep remorse for not being there when she needed him the most, for failing to shield her from the treachery of those vultures. Reflecting on his actions, he realised he should have never left her behind. In his rush to leave for war, he had neglected to arrange proper protection for her. In hindsight, he understood that he should have never left her side in the first place.

Determined to make amends, he vowed to do better. He resolved to never again allow those ministers or officials the opportunity to torment her in his absence again. From now on, he would be her shield, her staunch protector, and her unending support.

But it might be too late for any of that.

His steps faltered, his breath caught in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he beheld the sight before his eyes. The sword in his hands slipped, clanging loudly as it hit the ground, and he sank to his knees in disbelief at the last thing he expected to see.

His shock deepened as he took in his wife's unrecognisable appearance. Crawling towards her limp form on the ground, he pulled her into his arms, his voice trembling with anguish. The horror settled within him like a heavy weight as he tried to imagine what atrocities these monsters had dared inflict upon her while he was gone. His mind raced with images of torture and torment, each one more gruesome than the last.

"Oh god, what have they done to you?" he whispered, his heart fracturing into a million shards as he struggled to comprehend her pale skin, her white hair, and the blood-like tears staining her cheeks. With shaking hands, he gently cupped her cold cheek, his fingers tracing the contours of her face as if seeking reassurance that she was still there, still his beloved wife.

"Please wake up, my love. This isn't funny, stop scaring me," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You promised to wait for me. You promised..." His words trailed off into a broken sob as he refused to accept anything but the truth, shaking his head in denial even as he searched desperately for a pulse, even when she remained unresponsive.

"No, no, no... this can't be real. It can't be," he murmured, his mind reeling with the unimaginable horror of what he had found.

Despair and regret enveloped him as he sobbed painfully, holding her lifeless body tightly against his chest. The realisation that she was truly gone, that her final moments were spent alone in the very room she despised just to be with him, weighed heavily on his heart. He grappled with the bitter truth that he had failed her, just as she had feared when she hesitated to be with him.

Gradually, his sorrow gave way to seething rage as he recalled the faces of the ministers and officials responsible for this atrocity. They had callously taken her life, foolishly believing he would be deceived by their feeble attempt to frame her. With trembling hands, he picked up a shard of the shattered bowl nearby and brought it to his nose, recognising the metallic scent of mercury.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

They had poisoned her with lethal doses of mercury, causing a myriad of symptoms—tremors, headaches, muscle weakness, kidney damage, and breathing difficulties. And the deliberate administration of such high doses to turn her hair white revealed their sinister intent from the outset.

Just how much had they fed her? It was evident they had intended to kill her from the start. Anguish and fury surged within him as he vowed to make them pay.

Gently caressing her cold cheek, he leaned in to kiss her unmoving lips, his own trembling against hers. He blamed himself for everything that had transpired. Perhaps if she hadn't been with him, she would have lived a better life—a normal life with a normal man. She wouldn't have to endure such a painful and cruel death.

It was all because of him.

Regret hung heavy in his heart, but dwelling on what could have been served no purpose.

"I'm so sorry, my wife," he whispered, his voice thick with grief. "Just hold on a bit longer, alright? I'll join you soon, but first, I'll make those bastards pay. Wait for me—I won't let you face this alone. Not again."

With resolve hardening in his heart, he retrieved his sword and sheathed it once more before lifting her lifeless form into his arms. Like a man burdened by death itself, he trudged towards the throne room where justice awaited. Kicking the doors open with a forceful thrust of his leg, he was met with a sea of horrified expressions from the ministers and officials. Clearly, they hadn't anticipated the emperor's dramatic entrance, cradling his beloved empress in his arms.

Ignoring their shocked gazes, he strode past them, his eyes fixed on the throne at the far end of the room. With careful tenderness, he laid his wife down upon the ornate seat, arranging her robes and ensuring her comfort as though she were merely sleeping. Pressing a solemn kiss upon her cold forehead, he turned to face the assembled council, their unease palpable in the air.

The guilty culprits remained frozen in their places, uncertain of what awaited them.

As the emperor's gaze swept over them, the ministers and officials for the first time felt a cold shiver of fear trickle down their spines. His expression was unreadable, his appearance wild and dishevelled compared to his usual polished demeanour. Specks of blood and dirt stained his robes and skin, his hair a tangled mess, half tied up in a disarray that mirrored the chaos within him.

Gone was the warm smile that often graced his features; instead, a slow, unsettling grin crept across his face.

"My dearest ministers and officials," he began, his voice low and laced with an eerie calmness. "Your message has been received loud and clear. I hope you're satisfied now that you've succeeded in eradicating the empress, as you so desperately desired. I've given it some thought, and perhaps... you were all right."

The Minister of Rites, attempting to feign nonchalance, cleared his throat. "A-about what, Your Imperial Majesty?" he stammered.

Baekhyun's eyes gleamed with a frightening intensity as he smirked, his demeanour bordering on madness. "About what this nation truly needs," he replied, his voice carrying a chilling edge.

"Not a good emperor, but a mad one."

Without giving the men before him time to register his words, all Baekhyun saw was red. In a split second, he unsheathed his sword and transformed into a bloodthirsty animal, cutting down anyone and everyone in his path. The Minister of Rites tried to flee but to no avail. He watched in complete horror as his colleagues dropped dead one by one, their blood splattering over the grand walls of the throne room, their screams echoing.

The emperor went on a rampage, leaving no man behind. The Minister of Rites, who had been behind the idea of poisoning the empress, smearing her name by labelling her a demon, and executing her, was now filled with regret. They had turned him into the mad king his empress had feared. Perhaps they had finally achieved their goal, but it wasn't what they were prepared for.

The minister collapsed to his knees before the emperor, realising that His Imperial Majesty had saved him for last. Trembling, he rubbed his hands together in a desperate plea. "P-please, everything I've done, it's for the betterment of our nation."

Baekhyun's humourless laughter echoed through the hall, sending shivers down the minister's spine. "You truly believe that, don't you? Of course, that includes subjecting my wife to all that torment. Yes, because that is exactly what the nation needs. Unfortunately for you, I am the emperor, and I determine what's best for the nation. And in this case, I think it's better off without traitors like you. See you on the other side," were the last words the minister heard before his head was severed from his neck, rolling off to join the others on the floor.

The emperor finally turned back, his eyes softening as they landed on his beloved's lifeless body. Making his way back towards her, he knelt down beside her, tears streaming down his face as he reached for her hand. Holding it to his cheek, he missed the warmth it once had.

"I'm coming now, my love," he whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry you had to wait for so long. I'll be there with you soon."

"Yes, I understand His Imperial Majesty's orders not to enter, but it's been hours. Surely, any assembly would have concluded by now, wouldn't it?" With apprehension and curiosity, a senior court lady pushed open the doors to the once-bustling throne room, expecting to find His Imperial Majesty and his council of ministers. Instead, she was met with a horrifying sight—a scene of bloodshed and chaos spread across the grand hall.

Her piercing scream echoed through the silent room, jolting nearby palace staff into action. Rushing to the scene, they were met with a scene that chilled them to the bone. At the end of the room, amidst a sea of lifeless bodies, lay the empress on the throne, her appearance shocking all who beheld it. Beside her, her husband remained, his head cradled on her chest, their hands tightly clasped together. A gaping stab wound marred his chest—it seemed he had taken his own life before joining her in death.

Following that, the next prince in line promptly ascended the throne and found himself compelled to appoint an entirely new cabinet of ministers and officials. The entire nation descended into chaos, particularly since it was still embroiled in a war, with endless theories circulating about the events. While some speculated that the emperor succumbed to madness and killed his own council, others whispered of a conspiracy, suggesting that the ministers had orchestrated the demise of both the empress and the emperor.

Amidst this uncertainty, the new prince faced the daunting challenge of restoring order to the kingdom. With a heavy heart, he pledged to uncover the truth behind the tragic occurrences and ensure that justice was served to those responsible.

In the end, the truth of what truly occurred remained shrouded in mystery. All those involved had departed from the realm of the living. As centuries passed, that chapter in history became known as the Scarlet Requiem, a haunting tale that lingered in the collective memory of the kingdom. Despite countless efforts to unravel the enigma, the events surrounding the tragedy remained obscured by the sands of time, leaving future generations to ponder and speculate about the dark secrets of the past.

"What do you think really happened?" a woman asked her boyfriend as they studied a painting depicting the throne room scene in a museum dedicated to the events of the Scarlet Requiem.

He pondered for a moment before responding with a shrug. "It's hard to say. But judging by the way he's holding onto her, it seems he must have truly loved her. Let's hope they've found peace and happiness, whether in the afterlife or their next life."

She nodded in agreement, leaning into his comforting embrace. "Yeah, I hope so too."

He flashed a mischievous grin. "I'm just saying, if I were him, I wouldn't have left her for war in the first place."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful smack, though a smile danced on her lips. "I'm sure you wouldn't. I bet it's because the empress was described as beautiful as a celestial being."

He scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me how pretty she was. I'll stay only if you're my empress."

Unbeknownst to them, the couple had been contemplating their own past lives. Perhaps the emperor and empress had indeed found each other again in another existence.

Believe it or not, this has been on my mind for months ever since seeing those AI-generated photos of Baekhyun. I had an epiphany while looking at them again yesterday and just had to write this. It's my first EXO fic, and I hope it's decent hehe~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Master Tag list:

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @green-agent @vantediary @tinyteezer |

@hollxe1 @pandabur666 @lilactangerine @oddracha @evidive

#edenesth #exo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #byun baekhyun #exo baekhyun #historical au #goryeo dynasty #baekhyun x reader #exo fic #baekhyun oneshot #exo oneshot #kpop angst #exo angst #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun angst

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year ago

Note

Conrad and Belly beach scene but it’s reader instead of Belly. They kiss and it’s emotional and I was really hoping their would kiss! So happy she and Jere didn’t!

The beach scene had me screaming!! They finally used snow on the beach <3

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’Leave me alone,’’ you slurred, your back turned to Conrad as you watched the waves crash over your feet.

Coming to the beach in your intoxicated state was far from wise — an outright perilous choice. However, reason and prudence had abandoned you at this moment, too drunk to properly think.

‘’I can’t,’’ he responded.

His footfalls reached you, his presence palpable and audible in the water. Without preamble, Conrad hoisted you over his shoulder like a potato sack and took you out of the ocean.

‘’No! Conrad! Put me down,’’ you demanded the moment your feet left the ground. ‘’Just put me down.’’

‘’You’re drunk.’’

‘’Put me down!’’ You hit at his back as he walked up the beach.

‘’I’m not gonna put you down.’’

‘’Conrad, let go!’’

He did, letting you down on the sand ungracefully.

You glared at him and dusted the sand off your shorts. ‘’Just go.’’

He extended his hand to help, but you smacked him off. ‘’I’m not leaving you.’’

Those next words would never have come out if you hadn’t drunk so much of the bottle left forgotten in the sand.

‘’But you already did,’’ you let slip, standing up with a little bit of struggle. You felt tears coming as you looked at Conrad, memories of that night coming back in flashes. ‘’Why didn’t you tell me you went to Jeremiah about us? Why?!’’

When he showed up to your house in October, all he said was that Jeremiah had moved on and was seeing other people. He didn’t tell you that he asked for his brother’s blessing despite knowing how hurt Jeremiah was about the situation. Coming from someone who never talked to anybody about his feelings, it meant a lot to you that he talked to Jeremiah. He fought for you. He was serious about you.

‘’I don’t know!’’ Conrad blurted in response, genuinely not knowing why he kept this from you.

‘’If I had known that you had done that, that you cared that much about me and about us— If I had known, then I would have fought for you.’’ Tears blurred your vision, distorting his image.

Conrad looked down at you confusedly. ‘’What do you mean?’’

‘’I mean I would have fought for us. At prom, and at the funerals…’’ A tear slipped down your face, but you didn’t wipe it. ‘’And I would have been there for you through everything.’’ A sob left your lips, your heart breaking over the boy you swore you would never cry for again.

‘’I thought you knew. I thought you knew,’’ Conrad repeated, his deeply buried feelings starting to come through his walls. ‘’From the moment we kissed on the beach I thought you knew.’’

‘’Why did you throw it all away? Why, Connie?’’ You reached for him, then pushed him away, undecided if you wanted him to hold you in his arms or to hit his chest in anger. ‘’I…I thought that we loved each other.’’

‘’We did,’’ he confessed for the first time, swallowing thickly. ‘’I still do.’’

Tears welled up in Conrad's eyes as he looked at you, his defenses crumbling under the weight of his emotions. The tension in the salt air was palpable, a mixture of regret, longing, and the weight of unspoken words hung between you.

‘’Then why, Conrad?’’ you choked out, your voice trembling. ‘’Why did you let me end things? Why did you get in your car at my prom? Why didn’t you fight for us?’’

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek gently. You didn't pull away, torn between the anger you felt and the overwhelming surge of emotions that his confession had stirred within you.

‘’Because I didn’t want to be a burden to you. I kept disappointing you…’’

Conrad did disappoint you on prom night, but not for the reasons he thought. You didn’t care about the corsage or if he wasn’t in the mood to dance all night. You would have settled for just a few dances if that’s all he was able to give you. His head was elsewhere and you understood that. Yours would be too if your mother was terribly sick and approaching her last days.

You wanted to tell him that, but you were drunk and standing way too close to Conrad to make any rational decisions…so you closed the remaining space between you and kissed him.

—

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#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher fanfic #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine #tsitp

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hismourningflower · 10 months ago

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「 just breathe | kai's 2024 birthday special! 」 jing yuan & blade x gn!reader | hurt/comfort, nightmares | birthday fanfiction. ↳ additional tags. reader with ptsd (yet again, self indulgent for my bday!) but you can read it as reader with just nightmares in general!! ooc jing yuan & blade, kinda soppy/fluff with angsty themes. ↳ happy birthday to me part one! this is the honkai edition, there's a genshin special scheduled for later today!

data has been uploaded! - send an ask to join the taglist; specify genshin, honkai or both! @lovingluxury, @dumbificat, @starryshinyskies, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @ainescribe

the jade's guidelines | honkai masterlist | bday m.list | previous work

you could never forget the silk sheets that line your shared bed with JING YUAN, an aspect of the luxuries that the xianzhou alliance bathe themselves quite fondly over the years of their long-life species' existence. you would tease jing yuan that perhaps it was the xianzhou natives' way of comforting themselves after what happened regarding their ancestors but the more you considered it, the more highly likely it felt to be true.

every night you'd fall asleep in these sheets without fail, drowning amongst their soft touch that brushes against your skin. it slides against your every limb, wrapping itself around your body for comfort whenever you're forced to go to bed without jing yuan at your side; there'd be numerous occasions, ones that he was always forced to deal with. you'd always see the way his eyes soften and shift away from you when he admits that he'd be late to bed. it was always work related, of course it was, he was the esteemed general of the cloud knights, the luofu's very own divine foresight.

you could never be mad at him, you were lucky enough to even be on the arm of the general. in your eyes, there was no way you could complain about his workload interrupting things except when it weighs down on him, dragging on his ankles and his shoulders to the point where all he can do is smile and keep napping - this is normal behaviour you've adjusted to but where's that small smirk that you love so much?

unfortunately, there's a nagging that weighs you down too. even though you don't explicitly mention it to jing yuan, he's more than aware. he's by no means stupid and he's actually incredibly observant, especially for you, his dearest partner. he's been awake on more than one occasion when your peaceful sleep is disrupted, your brows furrowed as you clutch at the sheets - naively unaware of his presence in the first place.

the silence will fill with struggled whimpers and gasps for breath, evolving into tears you might not even know slip from your closed eyes, squeezed shut as if trying to wake yourself up. these things haunt you, remind you of your struggles and where life has taken you. jing yuan has never been one for interrupting your rest, after all you've never once disturbed him but he knows he can't let you lay there, thrashing as you cry. not only for your sake but his own, when it breaks his heart to even witness it.

jing yuan will force himself to disturb you, strong arms wrapping around you and fighting against every thrash and struggle your emotionally weak body fights with until you calm against the comfort of his chest, breaking out into muffled sobs as your knuckles go white clutching onto him. he'll let out a breath, noting that you're awake when you choke out his name between gasps for breath.

"just breathe," he coos, a large hand smoothing down your back as his face buries into your hair. long, white hair drapes over his shoulders, tickling at your nose now that it's not tied up with a red ribbon, "it's okay, i'm here."

never once has jing yuan pressed into what your nightmare was about, simply listening as you follow his instructions and take a deep breath, trying to regulate as your body calms. there's a soft sniffle every now and then, his chest damp from where you've been sobbing but he'd rather it be like this instead of the bedsheets from where you've struggled alone.

every time it'll break his heart but he'll do it over and over again, knowing that his mere presence is what soothes you and keeps the tormenting demons at bay. maybe you'll never say it to him but all you need in those moments is him and he's more than happy to hold your shaking body until you fall back asleep.

BLADE isn't a fool, in fact he has his own fair share of nightmares from the mara within him and his past deeds. even if he denies it, you're no fool too and you've been present many times when it comes to blade panicking in his sleep. you do know however not to wake him, aware of his violent tendencies - you could be anyone to him when he wakes up and despite putting every inch of your trust into him, you know that's something you can't risk with him.

the next morning, he'll always avoid your gaze. dark hair will hang over ruby red eyes, concealing them from your view as he goes about his business, still closely knit to your side. he's aware that you know, that you was there and you witnessed it. there's no convincing him for a moment that he can trust you enough just to receive some form of comfort, even if it's hours later when dawn is breaking and in his eyes, just another day begins.

despite his avoidance of the topic when it revolves around him, blade doesn't shy away from your nightmares at all. in fact, considering how well acquainted he is with them - and dealing with them alone, - blade is way more comforting than many may suspect when it comes to your nightmares. it can be a surprising addition to the relationship at first when you experience the first night of having a harsh nightmare while the two of you share a bed.

blade isn't afraid to give you a snap back to reality in the moments you need it the most. in his eyes it's better than letting you lay there and struggle, your body thrashing on woven sheets that are soft from the fabric detergent you'd recently swapped to. when your relationship had started, he'd been against the idea of you staying with him at the stellaron hunters' headquarters but blade was observant enough to notice how often you had nightmares when he'd come to visit your home outside of work. he'll never admit it out loud but that's what changed his mind about where you slept at night.

there's a cold exterior that your boyfriend wears but deep inside, he can't bear the sight of seeing you go through it. he can't bear to hear the way you cry out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gently shakes you awake to wake you up from the horrors you were witnessing. that's why he'll clutch your body into his, never letting go even after you've calmed down. his fingers dig slightly into your soft flesh, his face buried into your neck as he takes a moment for him too to calm down.

"blade? you can let go..." you mumble against his scarred shoulder, bandages decorating the flesh of his upper arm. he'll grunt in response, the cold tip of his nose pressing harder against your skin.

"just a little longer," he mutters in response, albeit a little stubbornly as his hug tightens for a moment, squeezing you reassuringly, "just... keep breathing for me."

you're okay, you're awake, your breathing is slowing down. he repeats these things to himself like a mantra, ruby eyes fluttering shut behind long, dark eyelashes as he presses chaste kisses to your shoulder. you personally never understood why he seemed so affected by your nightmares as the two of you curl back up, pressed together so intimately with the sheets draped over your bodies but blade knows he can't cope with the idea of seeing you in any form of pain, whether physical or mental.

if he could, he would take every inch and sliver of your pain for you. he'd carry the weight of your past and struggles, just to never see you sob from another nightmare ever again.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

#( sealed letters )#© thexianzhoujade #blade x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #jing yuan fluff #blade fluff #alexi's 2024 birthday !!

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lila-lou · 9 months ago

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✨Beyond saving - Pt. 3✨

Summary: I hate summaries, so this is part 3 of "Beyond saving".

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!, Smut, mention of rape (well, detailed), Language, Angst, Hurt, soft dean (literally), it´s just a loooot

Word Count: 7600

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As another week has passed, Sam entered the kitchen, noticing you sitting alone on the ground, your eyes fixed on the table where Dean had inflicted so much pain upon you. He approached you cautiously, sensing the weight of your emotions hanging heavy in the air.

"Hey", Sam said softly. "How are you holding up?".

You glanced up at him, your eyes weary and filled with sadness. "I'm… I'm trying", you replied hoarsely, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sam sat down beside you, offering a comforting presence as he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "I know it's not easy", he said sympathetically.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned into Sam's embrace, the weight of your pain almost too much to bear.

"I know it's hard to believe right now, but Dean still loves you", he said gently. "He's hurting too, maybe even more than you realize. He hates himself for what he's done to you, for what the demonic version of himself did. It wasn't the real Dean, you know that, right?".

You nodded slowly, tears brimming in your eyes as you struggle to come to terms with Sam's words. "I want to believe that. But it's so hard, Sam. Every time I look at him, all I can see is… is what he did to me".

"I know", he mumbled. "But you have to remember that Dean would do anything to take back what happened, to make things right between you two. He's fighting his own demons right now, just like you are. And I know that deep down, he's still the man you fell in love with".

"I know it's going to take time", he said gently. "But I truly believe that you and Dean can find your way back to each other. You've been through so much together, and I know that love doesn't just disappear overnight".

"Thank you, Sam", you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you".

Sam smiled warmly, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to thank me. We're family, and family looks out for each other. We'll get through this together, I promise".

As the days passed, you found yourself greeted each morning by the aroma of freshly prepared meals and the sight of a bouquet of flowers adorning your doorstep. With each delivery, your heart ached with a mixture of longing and hesitation, unsure of how to respond to Dean's gestures of remorse and affection.

Yet, despite your reservations, you couldn't deny the sincerity of his efforts. Each handwritten note contained memories of the happiest moments you had shared together, reminding you of the love and joy that had once filled your relationship.

With each meal and each note, Dean sought to bridge the gap between you, to remind you of the bond that had once bound you together. And though you remained guarded, the warmth of his gestures began to thaw the icy walls around your heart, slowly but surely.

As you sat alone in your room, reading through Dean's heartfelt words and savoring the meals he had prepared, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring within you. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for forgiveness and reconciliation after all. And with that thought in mind, you found yourself daring to believe in the possibility of a brighter future, one where love and trust could prevail over pain and sorrow.

As the days passed, you found yourself slowly opening up to the idea of letting him back into your life, of giving him a chance to make amends for the pain he had caused.

With each meal he prepared and each note he left, Dean showed you that he was willing to do whatever it took to earn your forgiveness and rebuild the trust that had been shattered.

Two weeks later, as Sam ordered Pizza, Dean made his way towards sam and the delicious smell. As Dean reached for the pizza, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. Startled, he turned to see you sitting next to Sam, your gaze fixed on your hands clasped tightly in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure of what to do or say.

But then, a flicker of hope ignited within him as he realized what this moment meant. After weeks of isolation and silence, you had finally taken a step forward.

With cautious optimism, Dean approached you, his movements slow and deliberate. He sat down beside you, careful not to startle you, his heart pounding with uncertainty.

"Hey", he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's, uh, it's good to see you".

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his briefly before flickering away. Dean's heart ached at the sight of your pain.

As the dinner progressed, a heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional clinking of utensils against plates. Dean tried to muster up the courage to speak, to break the tension that seemed to suffocate the room, but the words caught in his throat.

Your gaze fixed on your plate, unable to meet Dean's eyes or engage in conversation. Every fiber of your being screamed with discomfort, your stomach churning with anxiety from being in such close proximity to him.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. He longed to reach out to you, to apologize for everything he had put you through, but he knew that words alone would never be enough to mend the damage he had caused.

Finally, unable to bear the suffocating silence any longer, Sam cleared his throat, breaking the tension with a forced smile. "So, uh, how's the pizza?", he asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from the elephant in the room.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak, your throat tight with emotion. Dean swallowed hard, his own discomfort palpable as he forced himself to take a bite of his pizza, the taste turning to ash in his mouth.

Despite his best efforts to push aside his guilt and make things right, Dean couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over him like a dark cloud. As the dinner dragged on, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever be able to truly make amends for the pain he had caused you.

As the tension lingered, Sam attempted to lighten the mood with small talk, but his efforts fell flat against the weight of the unspoken turmoil between you and Dean. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the heaviness in the air suffocating.

Dean's heart ached with every glance he stole in your direction, the sight of your pain etched into every line of your face piercing him like a knife. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to you, to beg for your forgiveness.

For you, the meal was a torturous ordeal, you struggled to suppress the torrent of emotions threatening to consume you.

After dinner, Sam tentatively suggested watching a movie together, hoping to provide a distraction from the heavy atmosphere that lingered between you and Dean. He could see the strain etched on both of your faces and desperately wanted to find a way to bring a sense of normalcy back to your lives.

You hesitated, the thought of spending more time in Dean's presence filling you with dread. But with a small nod from Sam, you reluctantly agreed.

As Sam set up the movie, you and Dean found yourselves sitting on opposite ends of the couch, a palpable distance separating you. The air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension, but for the moment, you both focused on the screen in front of you, allowing the movie to serve as a temporary escape from the turmoil that surrounded you.

Despite the heaviness that still hung in the air, there was a glimmer of hope in Sam's eyes as he watched the two of you attempt to coexist in the same space. He knew that healing would take time and effort, but he was determined to do whatever it took to bring his family back together, one small step at a time. And as the movie played on, he silently prayed that tonight would mark the beginning of a new chapter for all of you.

As the movie played on, Dean found it nearly impossible to tear his gaze away from you, his heart aching with every fleeting glance he stole in your direction.

A torrent of guilt and remorse washed over him, threatening to drown him in its depths.

In that moment, Dean would have given anything to ease your suffering, to take away the pain that he had inflicted upon you. If cutting out his own heart and offering it to you would mean healing your wounded soul, he would do it in a heartbeat.

But as he sat there, watching you, he felt utterly powerless, his own torment mirrored in your tear-stained eyes.

Another week passed, and tentatively, you began to open up to Dean once more. Your heart clenched with uncertainty as you heard his voice, but you knew that avoiding him forever would only prolong the pain for both of you. So, you found yourselves sitting across from each other at the large map-table.

Dean's question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. "Are you able to sleep again?", he asked, his voice laced with concern and regret.

You hesitated for a moment, the memories of sleepless nights and haunted dreams flooding back to you. But then, with a small nod, you found the strength to answer. "Yeah, I am", you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was a small victory, but it felt like a significant step forward.

"I'm so sorry", he whispered, his words heavy with regret. "I can't even begin to express how sorry I am for what I did to you".

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you met his gaze. "You hurt me, Dean", you said, your voice quivering with emotion. "You hurt me in ways I never thought possible".

Dean's expression crumpled, his heart breaking as he listened to your words. "I know", he murmured, his voice choked with tears. "I know and I hate myself for it".

"You… you raped me, Dean", you continued, the words catching in your throat. "You violated me in the worst possible way".

Tears fell down Dean's face as he listened to your confession, the weight of his actions bearing down on him like a crushing weight. "I'm so sorry", he repeated. "I'm so sorry for what I did to you".

You took a shaky breath, your heart heavy with pain. "I want you to understand", you said, your voice wavering with emotion. "I want you to understand what you did to me".

"You shoved me against the table, Dean. You didn't care that I was begging you to stop. You didn't care that I was in pain".

Dean´s voice choked with tears. "I know, I know. I was a monster. I should have never—". But you cut him off. "You broke my wrists, Dean. Do you even realize how much that hurt? Every time I moved, every time I tried to do anything, I was in agony".

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never should have touched you".

By now, your voice was trembling with emotion. "And my ribs, Dean. You broke them too. Every breath felt like knives stabbing into my chest. I couldn't even breathe without feeling like I was going to pass out". Tears started streaming down your face.

"And then you… you fucked me until I bled, Dean. Do you understand what you did to me? Do you understand how much pain you caused?". You paused. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive you, Dean. But I want you to know… I want you to know what you did to me".

Dean sat there with teary eyes and wet cheeks, his heart breaking with each word that fell from your lips. He listened to the pain in your voice, the anguish in your eyes.

Every detail you recounted of the horrors he had inflicted upon you pierced his soul like a thousand knives. He couldn't bear to look away, couldn't bear to turn his gaze from your tear-streaked face.

In that moment, he felt the weight of his actions crush him with a force he had never known before. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to hold you close. But he knew that he didn't deserve it, knew that he had caused you too much pain to ever be worthy of your love again.

All he could do was sit there, his heart heavy with regret, and pray that somehow, someday, he could find a way to make amends for the irreparable damage he had done.

"I lay there for hours", you confessed, the memories still vivid in your mind. "I couldn't move, couldn't even catch my breath. Every inch of my body was screaming in pain, and all I could do was lie there and pray for it to end".

You continue, your voice laced with bitterness and sorrow. "After that, I stopped looking for you", you admit, the words heavy on your tongue. "I stopped trying to save you, stopped caring".

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your words sinking in.

Dean's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he listened to your words, his knuckles white from the tight grip he held on his emotions. "I wanted to kill myself", he confessed in a voice barely above a whisper. "That's how much I hated myself for what I did to you".

Your words cut through the heavy silence like a knife, each syllable dripping with the bitterness of your pain. "I'm already dead because of what you did to me", you said, your voice laced with a coldness that sent a shiver down Dean's spine.

His eyes closed in anguish, the weight of your words bearing down on him like a crushing burden. You were his everything, the love of his life, and the thought of spending his days without you was unbearable.

"I wanted to marry you, to build a future together", Dean whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I wanted to have children with you, to grow old with you by my side. But I… I broke you".

The pain and heartache radiating from him was palpable, and despite your own suffering, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy for the man who had once held your heart in his hands.

"I know", you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know you're hurting, Dean. But… but what you did to me, it's something I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive".

Dean's shoulders sagged with the weight of your words, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to contain his emotions.

"I understand", he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. "I don't expect you to forgive me, not after what I've done".

During the following two weeks, Dean spared no effort to demonstrate that he was no longer the monster he had once been. He cooked for you, cleaned the bunker without being asked, and even went out of his way to avoid any situation that might make you uncomfortable. Every gesture was infused with a desperate longing for redemption, a silent plea for your forgiveness.

As you sat in the TV room, enveloped by the soft glow of the screen, a bowl of popcorn nestled in your lap, you felt a sense of tentative peace settle over you. It was the first evening Dean and you had been alone since Sam and Cas had left on their hunt, and for once, the weight of the past seemed to lift ever so slightly from your shoulders.

Lost in the movie playing before you, you barely noticed when Dean appeared in the doorway. His eyes lingered on you, filled with longing.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. But then, with a hesitant step forward, Dean cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the room.

"Mind if I join you?", he asked, his voice tentative as he gestured to the empty space beside you on the couch.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to push him away and the faint glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time. After a moment's pause, you nodded silently, scooting over to make room for him on the couch.

As Dean settled in beside you, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes softening with gratitude and relief.

Dean watched you, his gaze lingering on your profile as you became engrossed in the movie playing on the screen. A flicker of recognition crossed his features as he realized it was the same movie from your first night together in the bunker—the night when everything had felt so new and full of promise.

"You remember this?", he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he glanced at you, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as memories of that night flooded back. "Yeah", you replied, your voice tinged with warmth. "It feels like a lifetime ago".

Dean's expression softened at your words, sadness clouding his features. "I miss those days", he admitted. "I miss us".

You turned to look at him. "I miss us too", you whispered.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, lost in memories of happier times.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope or forgiveness. "Are you willing to give me another chance?", he asked quietly. "All I want is to make things right, to hold you in my arms and ease your pain. I want to heal what I destroyed, to show you that I'm not the same person I was back then".

You felt a tug at your heartstrings as you looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and regret reflected in their depths. Part of you wanted to believe him. But another part of you was still wary, still hesitant to open yourself up to the possibility of being hurt again.

"I don't know, Dean", you admitted. "I want to believe that you're capable of being the man I once loved. But… I'm scared. Scared of getting hurt again".

Dean's heart sank at your words. "I understand", he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, to show you that I'm worthy of a second chance. Just… please don't give up on me".

As you sat there, grappling with the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you, memories of your past with Dean flooded your mind. You couldn't deny the depth of your love for him, even now, despite the pain and betrayal you had endured.

You remembered the way he used to make you laugh, the warmth of his embrace, and the way his touch could make your heart race with excitement. Despite everything that had happened, a part of you still longed for those moments of intimacy and connection that you had once shared with him.

But alongside the memories of love and happiness, there was also the lingering shadow of pain. You couldn't forget the agony of that fateful night, the way Dean had shattered your trust and left you broken and bruised.

Yet, as you looked into his eyes now, you saw the same love and longing reflected back at you.

Dean's voice trembled with emotion as he opened up to you, his words raw and filled with longing. "I've missed you so much", he mumbled. "I miss the way you used to sleep on my chest, your soft breathing. I miss the sound of your laughter, the way it could light up a room and make all the darkness disappear".

He reached out tentatively, as if afraid you might pull away, and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Without you, I'm lost".

You felt a tug at your heartstrings as you listened to his words, seeing the pain and vulnerability in his eyes. Despite everything that had happened between you, you couldn't deny the depth of his love for you, or the longing in his voice as he spoke of wanting to make things right.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you locked eyes with Dean, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. A whirlwind of emotions churned inside you—fear, longing, uncertainty—each vying for dominance as you grappled with the decision before you.

Part of you wanted to pull away, to retreat into the safety of your own walls and protect yourself from the possibility of being hurt again. But another part of you, a part that still held onto the memories of love and happiness you had shared with Dean, yearned for connection, for healing, for the chance to rebuild what had been broken between you.

And so, with trembling hands and a heart that threatened to burst from your chest, you leaned in slowly, ever so slowly, towards Dean. Each inch felt like an eternity, the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders as you closed the distance between you.

As your lips met his in a tentative kiss, a surge of emotion washed over you, overwhelming in its intensity. It was a moment of vulnerability, of raw honesty, as you allowed yourself to let go of the pain and hurt that had consumed you for so long.

You cupped Dean's face in your hands, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss, savoring the warmth of his lips against yours.

Dean hesitated for a moment, unsure where to place his hands, afraid of scaring you away with too much intimacy. His heart clenched at the touch of your lips, a familiar ache settling in his chest as he finally felt the softness of your kiss again after so long.

Despite the pain that lingered in your heart, there was a sense of comfort in Dean's embrace, a familiarity that whispered of happier times gone by. For a moment, the world fell away as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the moment, each kiss a silent promise of hope and redemption.

But beneath the surface, there was still a lingering sense of uncertainty, a fear of the unknown that threatened to overshadow the fragile connection you were trying to rebuild. And yet, as you pulled away from the kiss, a glimmer of hope flickered in your heart.

With a shaky, uncertain voice, you whispered the words that had been lingering on the tip of your tongue, the silent plea of your heart reaching out to him. "Hold me", you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the words trembling with the weight of your uncertainty.

Dean's heart skipped a beat at your request, his chest tightening with a mixture of hope and fear. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close against his chest as though afraid you might slip away if he let go.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin as tears welled in your eyes.

Dean's hands trembled as he gingerly brushed over your back, his touch tentative yet filled with a quiet tenderness. With each gentle stroke, he tried to convey the depth of his remorse, the ache in his heart mirrored in the way his fingers traced soothing patterns against your trembling form.

You clung to him tightly, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you let out the pain and anguish. Your body shook with the force of your sobs, the emotional turmoil threatening to consume you entirely.

With a tenderness born of regret and longing, Dean pulled you closer to him, his lips hovering over your forehead as he held you in his embrace. His touch was gentle, his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back as you continued to sob against his chest.

Tears welled in Dean's eyes as he looked down at you, his heart heavy with the weight of his past mistakes and the knowledge of the pain he had caused you.

"I love you", he whispered softly, his voice filled with emotion. "More than anything in this world. I'm so sorry for what I've done to you, for the pain I've caused. But please know that my love for you has never faltered, not for a single moment".

As you looked up at him, your tear-stained cheeks and trembling lips betraying the turmoil within you, Dean's thumb gently brushed away your tears with a tenderness that spoke volumes. His eyes searched yours, silently asking for permission, for reassurance that this fragile moment of connection wouldn't shatter beneath the weight of your shared past.

With a trembling breath, you leaned into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips met yours once more. The kiss was featherlight, tentative yet filled with an undeniable longing—a silent plea for forgiveness, for understanding, for a chance to start anew.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment of raw emotion and longing. With a newfound sense of courage, you straddled Dean's legs, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as you deepened the kiss, your lips moving with a desperate urgency born of years of pent-up emotion and longing.

Dean's hands remained at his sides, a silent testament to his fear of causing you further pain or discomfort. He was surprised by your boldness, by the intensity of your kiss, but he dared not move, afraid that any sudden gesture might startle you and send you fleeing from his arms once more.

Instead, he surrendered to the moment, allowing himself to be consumed by the warmth of your lips, the softness of your touch.

As the kiss intensified, your tongue seeking entrance to his mouth, you felt a surge of desire coursing through your veins. Your hands roamed over Dean's broad shoulders, urging him to reciprocate, to touch you in return. Yet, he remained still, his hands trembling slightly at his sides as if unsure of what to do.

But then, as you pressed closer, seeking the warmth and comfort of his embrace, you felt it—a hardness pressing against you, eliciting a gasp of surprise from your lips. Dean's erection, unmistakable beneath the thin fabric of your pajamas, sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your body, freezing you in place.

For a moment, you were paralyzed, unsure of how to proceed. The realization of what was happening between you, of the undeniable attraction and desire that pulsed between your bodies, sent your mind reeling. Could this be happening? Could Dean still desire you, after everything that had transpired between you?

But before you could gather your thoughts, Dean's voice broke through.

"I… I'm sorry", Dean murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. "I didn't mean to… I just…".

His voice trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor as if unable to meet your eyes. You could see the conflict etched on his face, the turmoil raging within him as he grappled with his own desires and fears.

"It's okay", you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you reached out to cup his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours.

But even as you spoke the words, uncertainty gnawed at the edges of your mind. Could you truly forgive Dean for what he had done? Could you trust him again, after the pain and betrayal he had inflicted upon you?

As you took Dean's hands in yours, feeling the tremble of your own shaking fingers, you guided them slowly and cautiously to your hips. The simple act of touch sent a jolt of electricity through both of you, causing Dean's heart to race and his body to react with a twitch of arousal.

But despite the undeniable chemistry between you, Dean remained hesitant, his eyes searching yours for any sign of uncertainty or discomfort. He wanted to be sure, absolutely sure, that you were okay with this, that you were ready to take this step together.

For a moment, the air between you crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the space between your bodies. But then, as you met his gaze with unwavering determination, Dean felt a surge of courage welling up inside him.

With a shaky breath, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. It was soft, gentle, a silent promise of all the things left unsaid between you.

Dean's voice trembled as he spoke, his words laced with both desire and restraint. "Do you… Do you want to go to our bedroom?", he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or reluctance.

You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you at his words, a mixture of longing and apprehension swirling in your chest. The idea of being alone with Dean in the intimacy of your shared bedroom filled you with both excitement and trepidation, a reminder of the love and passion that had once defined your relationship.

But as you looked into Dean's eyes, seeing the vulnerability, you knew that this was a chance for healing, for closure, for the two of you to finally confront the demons of your past and forge a path forward together.

With a nod, you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently as you rose to your feet. "Yes", you whispered.

Dean walked slowly, his footsteps deliberate and measured, as if he were afraid to rush or startle you. His hand, warm and comforting, brushed against yours in a gentle caress, a silent reassurance of his presence by your side.

As you followed behind him, the hallway stretched out before you like an endless expanse, each step echoing the rhythm of your racing heart. And as Dean finally reached the door to your bedroom, he turned to look at you, his eyes soft with emotion. Without a word, he reached out and gently pushed the door open, inviting you into the sanctuary of your shared space.

With a shaky breath, you stepped across the threshold, the weight of the past hanging heavy in the air around you. But as Dean closed the door behind you, shutting out the outside world, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

Dean hesitated for a moment. "Is it okay if I… if I pick you up?", he asked softly.

You nodded slowly, your own voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Yes, that's okay".

With a gentle smile, Dean reached out and scooped you up in his arms, his touch surprisingly tender as he cradled you against his chest. Despite the years that had passed, the memory of his strength and warmth flooded back to you, comforting and familiar.

As he carried you across the room, his movements slow and deliberate, you felt a sense of trust and safety wash over you, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that still existed between you.

And as he carefully lowered you onto the bed, his touch was feather-light against your skin.

As Dean hovered halfway over you, he hesitated, his voice trembling with nerves as he asked, "Would… would it be better if you were on top?".

You noticed the veins on his throat and arms standing out, evidence of the effort he was exerting to hold back for you. "It's alright", he mumbled. "If you want to be on top, it's fine".

His eyes searched yours for a moment, before you nodded slowly and before Dean lowered himself down beside you, his body trembling with anticipation and desire.

Dean´s fingers trembling slightly as he began to undo the buttons of your pajama shirt.

With a gentle touch, he lowered his mouth to your neck, trailing soft kisses along your skin as his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Are you okay?", he asked softly, his voice laced with concern as he brushed the shirt off your shoulders, revealing your naked breasts to him.

You met his gaze with a mixture of emotions swirling in your eyes—vulnerability, longing, and a hint of fear. But despite the tumultuous storm raging within you, you nodded slowly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "I'm okay", you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out to cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

With a gentle touch, Dean leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss, his hands trailing down your body as he continued to undress you, his touch both reverent and filled with longing.

As you straddled his la, got rid of his shirt and pulled Dean closer, your body pressed against his, you feel the warmth of his skin against yours, sending shivers down your spine. Your nipples graze against his now naked chest, eliciting a soft moan from both of you. Dean's arousal, evident and undeniable, presses eagerly against you.

Dean's hand ventured beneath your pajama pants, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body. As his fingers brushed against your skin, he realized you weren't wearing underwear, and a soft gasp escaped his lips. His hand hovered tantalizingly close to your pussy, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Can I touch you there?", he asked quietly.

Dean's heart skipped a beat as he watched you nod slowly, your breath heavy and your heart racing in sync with his own. The anticipation hung thick in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to crackle with electricity. With a nervous bite of your lip, you gave him the permission he sought, sending a surge of desire coursing through his veins.

His hand trembled slightly as it moved lower, tracing the contours of your soft folds. You let out a soft moan of pleasure, your body arching instinctively towards his touch.

Dean's touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. With each gentle stroke, he teased and tantalized, his fingers dancing over your most intimate parts with a skill that left you breathless. Your head spun with desire as he explored every inch of you, driving you to the brink of ecstasy with each passing moment.

As the heat between you grew, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace. In that moment, there was nothing else that mattered—no past, no future, only the raw, primal desire that burned between you.

As Dean felt the warmth and wetness between your thighs, he knew you were ready. With slow, deliberate movements, he began to ease down your pajama pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

"You okay?", he murmured softly, his voice laced with concern as he continued to undress you.

You nodded eagerly, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts as you struggled to contain your desire. "Yes, Dean", you whispered. "I want this".

With a final tug, your pants were discarded, leaving you completely exposed before him. And as Dean rid himself of his own sweatpants and boxers, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of him—powerful and virile, his desire evident in every line and curve of his body.

Your breath hitched as you caught sight of Dean's erection, fear and uncertainty flashing in your eyes as he hovered above you. Sensing your hesitation, Dean froze, his own desire momentarily forgotten as he looked down at you with concern.

"Are you okay?", he asked softly, his voice filled with tenderness as he searched your eyes for any sign of discomfort or unease.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. "I'm just… I'm scared", you admitted.

Dean's expression softened, a look of understanding and compassion flickering in his eyes. "I won't hurt you, I promise", he whispered. "I'll go as slow as you need me to".

Feeling reassured by his words, you let out a shaky breath, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Thank you", you murmured, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As Dean continued to kiss you, his lips soft and gentle against yours, you couldn't help but feel a sense of tension and apprehension creeping into your body. Despite his best efforts to reassure you, you remained nervous and tense, unable to fully let go of the fear that still lingered within you.

Sensing your unease, Dean pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours again. When he saw the hurt reflected in your gaze, his heart clenched.

"What can I do to help you relax?", he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I want to make this special for you, to show you how much I care. Just tell me what you need, and I'll do it".

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to express the turmoil raging within you. But then, with a shaky breath, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need… I need you to be patient with me", you admitted, your words tinged with vulnerability. "I need you to understand that I'm still scared. And I need you to hold me, to reassure me that everything will be okay".

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest in a tight embrace. And as you melted into his arms, you felt a sense of comfort and safety wash over you, the tension slowly beginning to ebb away in the warmth of his embrace.

"I'll be gentle, I promise", he murmured, his voice soothing and tender. "We'll go slow, at your pace. Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?".

You nodded, a sense of trust and gratitude washing over you as you buried your face in his chest. "Okay", you whispered.

With a gentle sigh, Dean leaned down and captured your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. His touch was soft and tentative, his lips moving against yours with a tender reverence that made your heart flutter.

As the kiss deepened, you felt his erection pressing against your wet folds, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. Despite your lingering apprehension, you couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry between you, the desire that burned hot and fierce between your bodies.

With a soft moan, you pressed yourself against him, your hips rocking instinctively against his, seeking the delicious friction that would ease the ache deep within you.

Dean’s breath was heavy with anticipation as he looked down at you, his eyes burning with desire and longing. “Can I…?”, he began, nodding towards his between the two of you. His hand moved to his shaft, as if to emphasize his need.

Your heart raced at the thought of finally feeling him inside you again, of surrendering yourself to the passion and intensity of your shared desire. But a flicker of uncertainty danced in your eyes, a lingering reminder of the pain and heartache that had once torn you apart.

“I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with”, he assured you. “I just want to make you feel good, to show you how much I love you”.

With a shaky nod, you reached out and took his hand in yours, guiding him towards you. As his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, you felt the heat and urgency of his desire washing over you, igniting a fire deep within your core.

As Dean pressed slowly inside you, his movements careful and measured as he sought to ease your discomfort. But as he felt you wince beneath him, he immediately stopped, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”, he asked softly, his voice filled with worry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you met Dean’s gaze. “It’s okay”, you assured him, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I just… I need a moment”.

Dean nodded understandingly, his heart aching at the sight of your discomfort. “I’ll stop”, he whispered, his voice filled with regret. “I should have been more patient with you, especially after… after everything”.

You reached out and placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You’ve always been patient with me”, you murmured, your voice filled with gratitude and love. “Even before that awful night”.

Dean’s eyes softened at your words. “I just want to make things right”, he whispered.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. "I want you to go on", you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to replace those memories of that terrible night with something beautiful, something loving".

Dean's eyes widened in surprise, his heart swelling. "Are you sure?".

You nodded, your gaze never wavering as you met his eyes with unwavering determination. "I'm sure", you whispered. "I want this, Dean. I want us".

As Dean slowly pushed himself inside you, the sensation of being filled with him once again sent shivers down your spine. You moaned softly and breathlessly, your body instinctively responding to his touch. But just as Dean buried himself completely within you, the memories of that terrible night crashed over him like a tidal wave.

His movements faltered, his breath catching in his throat as he felt the weight of his past mistakes bearing down on him. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to push the memories aside, to focus on the here and now, on the love and desire that flowed between you. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the haunting images that lingered in the depths of his mind.

Feeling himself going soft again inside you, Dean’s heart clenched with frustration and self-loathing. He wanted nothing more than to give you pleasure, to show you how much he loved you, but the ghosts of his past refused to release their grip on him.

With a heavy sigh, Dean pulled away from you. “I’m sorry”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I just… I can’t do this right now”. His gaze full of shame, as he got up from the bed and started to get dressed.

As you pulled up the blanket, your heart sank at the sight of Dean's retreating figure. Anxiety gnawed at your insides as you watched him hastily get dressed, his movements tense and hurried. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each one more tumultuous than the last.

Was it something you did? Something you said? Was your hesitation the reason he couldn't stay hard? The weight of your own self-doubt threatened to suffocate you as you struggled to make sense of the situation.

Dean couldn't even look at you right now, so consumed was he by his own guilt and remorse.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him hastily getting dressed, his actions leaving you feeling confused and hurt. The weight of your own self-doubt pressed down on you like a heavy burden as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

“Did I do something wrong?”, you asked, your voice trembling with emotion as you fought to keep the tears at bay. “Was it because of me?”.

Dean paused, his hand hovering over his belt as he turned to face you. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something, to reassure you that it wasn’t your fault. But before he could utter a word, the door swung open, and Sam burst into the room, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight before him.

Misinterpreting the situation, Sam’s eyes darted between you and Dean, confusion evident on his face. “What’s going on?”, he asked, his voice tinged with concern as he took in the scene before him.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 4

Taglist: @mayafatimakhan

#jensen ackles #deanwinchtser #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam and dean #supernatural #spn #hurt/comfort #hurtful #violent love #love

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yoditopascal · 9 months ago

Text

Con La Brisa

summary: "give me a little bit more time 'cause my last breath I will give to show you the entire sky." or snippets into the domestic life of sanemi and his tsugoku.

warnings: none that are really that bad, post infinity castle arc, mentioned character death, established relationship, domestic fluff, implied/referenced sex, soft sanemi, some angst but not a lot, AU where all the hashira live because I said so, minor mitsuri/obanai, minor shinobu/giyu, unplanned pregnancy

a/n: this is a continuation of my fic Home taking place after my other fic My Nemi!

part 2. ohagi

It was a month later when Sanemi returned to your village. Having to go back and finish up his affairs back home he wrapped them up as quickly as he could before the winds of spring brought him back to you.

It was a cool April afternoon when Sanemi returned. You had already heard the whispers from the town gossips of a ‘scary looking stranger’ playing with the village children down by the riverside while you were out shopping so you knew he had come back before he even stopped by.

“I’m back.” called a voice from the door, you were in the kitchen of the tea shop preparing lunch for the hungry customers that had stopped by that day.

“Welcome home Sanemi!” you gave him a closed eyed smile as he approached the counter. He had wanted to lean over and kiss the top of your head but the mere thought of doing so in the presence of so many others made his cheeks burn.

Behind the counter you looked the picture perfect of domesticity. Hair tied up in a bun atop your head with a bandana, frilly apron in place as you worked hard at making food, he could definitely get used to such a sight.

“Can I get you something to eat?” you asked as you filled trays up with food preparing to serve them.

“J-just onigiri is fine.” He stuttered as you pulled him from his thoughts. Sanemi watched as you struggled to balance the trays in your arms, your brother was sick that day and it was just you running the tea shop on your own Sanemi had noticed. “I can wait though, let me help you.”

“Oh! That’s ok I-” He wordlessly took the trays from your hands before you could finish your sentence. Shaking your head you gave in and directed him to which customer got what and he simply obliged.

That was your routine for the rest of the day, You cooking and filling orders while he served them. By day’s end you had served quite a few patrons, more than you normally would have if you were alone.

“Thanks for your help today Sanemi-san, I honestly wouldn't have made it without you.” You smiled as you served him a cup of hot tea and onigiri taking the seat in front of him so you could talk.

“Drop the -san Sanemi is fine!” he said, sipping at his hot tea.

“You're right we have seen each other naked already after all.” you smiled at him while you leaned on your palm.

Sanemi choked, nearly spilling his tea all over the place. A moment of silence filled the space between you for a moment before Sanemi spoke again this time in a more hushed tone, his cheeks tinged pink

“D-did you want to talk about it?” he asked. He had yet to actually ask you about what you felt about that night you spent together when he first visited you. Was he too forward? Did you want it to happen again? What if he had hurt you?

“About the hot springs? What's there to talk about?” you asked reminiscing back to that night at the swordsmith village when you were still his tsugoku.

Oh right…that.

“Not that! I meant-” he cut himself off, unable to actually say what he was thinking out loud, cheeks burning even brighter if that were possible.

“I’m just teasing you Nemi.” You leaned across the table to kiss him on the forehead.

“You ass!” he cried placing his hand were you had kissed him.

You laughed, a hearty laugh that you hadn’t actually done in a while since being home and it felt nice.

After the two of you ate, you cleaned up and closed up the shop.

“Where are you going?” you questioned as you were leaving, Sanemi had started heading in the opposite direction from your home.

“To the Inn?”he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why? You can just stay with me!” You smiled at him

“Don’t you think that’s too…informal? Aren’t you worried about what people might think about us?”

“Who gives a rat’s ass what people think of us, and besides we're way past being formal to each other.” You said, grabbing his hand, pulling him along with you as you walked home.

“Come on, I'll make you a bed in the guest room and make you a nice big breakfast in the morning!”

Sanemi stared after you as if he was pondering what to say next, instead he opted to follow you in silence just happy to be holding your hand.

Afterall who was he to turn down a home cooked meal and a warm bed?

The following weeks were much of the same. You’d get up early to eat together then you'd both head down to the tea shop to get some work done. When your brother returned from his illness he was surprised and a little scared to be working in the same building as someone so ‘scary looking’ he had told you, but over time he had slowly started to warm up to Sanemi to the point where he’d sometimes invite him over to drink and play shogi with him and his friends.

Weeks turned into months and soon Sanemi was a full fledged employee and one of the family. You parents were still pretty weary of him but none the less they welcomed him to their employment with open arms. That didn't mean that everyone accepted him though, a few of the regulars hadn’t been by as much as they usually would have in the past few months and though you tried to tell Sanemi it wasn’t his fault he had a feeling that it had to do with the way he looked.

“Don’t worry about them, they're a dime a dozen, I'd much rather have you around than a bunch of stuffy old geezers anyways.”You had tried to reassure him one day after a particularly bad incident.

Sanemi was going about his usual day of serving food and tea to customers, however when he got to the table of an old woman, who was new and visiting her children in town, she damn near had a heart attack at his appearance alone.

“Maybe I’m just not cut out for this line of work.”

“Nonsense! You’re great at it! Don't let one old hag get you down in the dumps man.” Your brother tried cheering him up as he hooked his arm around him. Shrugging your brother off, Sanemi silently continued to work, clearly upset by the whole situation.

That night when you returned home for the evening you prepared him his favorite meal and an extra special treat of ohagi, his favorite, which he promptly thanked you for all night till the sun came up.

From that moment on Sanemi no longer stayed in the guest room, even when he tried to go back you’d both come up with some kind of excuse as to why he shouldn’t.

“It's too stuffy in there, my room is much cooler.”

“I thought I heard an intruder, it’d be best if I just stayed in here with you for the night.”

“I can’t sleep alone, I'm much more well rested when you're beside me!”

Excuse after excuse piled up day after day until Sanemi finally said ‘Fuck it’ and moved all his things into your room officially.

It was a chilly autumn morning when you found yourself strolling the Demon Slayer Corps cemetery, you shivered as you wrapped your scarf and haori tighter around yourself, trying to protect yourself from the chill of the wind and atmosphere of the graveyard. Sanemi placed an arm around you as he guided you along the path.

“It won’t take long.” he reassured you, pulling his haori off to wrap around you.

“Take all the time you need. There’s no rush.” You said reaching out to grab his hand, giving it a light squeeze before letting go.

“Hey.” Sanemi says kneeling at a headstone, he wipes off some of the dirt and leaves that had started to collect on it as you place the incense and flowers you had bought along with you at the base. “Sorry it took so long for me to visit this time, I've been pretty busy.”

He watches silently as you light the incense, saying a little prayer as you do so. “It’s nice to see you again Genya.” You say as you move to sit next to Sanemi. “Wish it was under better circumstances though.”

You had briefly met the boy when he had come to the Wind estate for hashira training. Though he had barely spent any time there you had liked him well enough while he was there. He was a nice kid, who was polite and blushed and averted his eyes anytime you were around him, the poor boy was just trying to get his brother to love him, he didn’t deserve the fate he faced at the hands of an upper moon, he shouldn’t have been a demon slayer to begin with, he was way too sweet for that life.

“I-“ Sanemi’s starts, his voice drifting off as he looks from the grave to you as if he’s trying to think of what to say “I’m sorry.”

You place a hand over his.

“Sorry for not protecting you, for pushing you away and leaving you on your own for so long. M’ sorry for ever calling you weak and trying to hurt you, m’ sorry for ever saying that you weren’t my brother. Hell I’m just-just-“ tears brim his eyes as he cuts himself off.

Sorry.

He doesn’t say the last word as he rubs at his eyes trying to force the tears to stop but they’re flowing full force now.

“You're my brother, I should have been there for you. I should have done better!” He shouted at the grave, all you could do was look on at him in sorrow, your own tears blurry your vision as your thumb rubs over his hand.

“It’s-it’s not fair.” He says voice watery and quiet almost at a whisper. “Good people die…you, Masachika… one after another it’s just not fair!”

“You should have had a house somewhere, raised a family of your own and gotten to grow old. You should’ve had a wife and children and gotten to make them happy and share memories with them. I would’ve done anything for that life for you.” He said, gripping at his clothes over his chest, they felt constricting, the air around him heavy, almost suffocating.

“I’m so sorry Genya.”

“Sanemi…” you trail off as you move your hand to his shoulder not knowing what to say to comfort him. He places a hand over yours and squeezes reassuringly, just you being there was enough.

“I’m ok-“ he starts finally looking at you, his eyes are bloodshot but soft as he looks on sadly. “It’s just-“

“I know.”

The pair of you sit in silence for a while, leaning onto each other as you watch the incense burn. What feels like hours pass before either one of you speaks again.

“Thank you,” Sanemi starts as he sits up to kiss your forehead “for coming with me.”

“Anytime.” You say, gently carding your fingers through his fluffy hair.

A month had pass since you last visited Genya. You and Sanemi had just settled back into your routine when he received a letter. It was from Rengoku asking how he was doing, if he had settled into town alright and if he had confessed to you yet. A blush rose to his cheeks as he stopped reading the letter aloud.

Instead he shoved the piece of parchment to your chest, cheeks still rosy, and without looking you in the face asked you to reply for him.

You knew Sanemi could read but after years of practicing still couldn’t write so you opted to help him when he needed it.

A few days after your reply was sent, Sanemi received another letter, this one was from Tengen who had cheekily asked how you were doing and if you had gotten married yet instead of the former wind pillar. Sanemi refused to respond to that one.

Soon you both were trading letters back and forth between all the former hashira who had survived the final battle, until one day they all suddenly stopped.

The bell to your tea shop alerted you that someone had just walked in. Without looking up you said “Be with you in a second!” Hands busy with the task of preping food for the next rush of customers.

“Well now is that any way to greet an old friend?”said a boisterous voice with a laugh.

Snapping your eyes up, you immediately straightened up and bowed respectfully in greeting when you saw that not only was Tengen and his wives here, laughing at your rigid form, so was Rengoku and Shinobu and Mitsuri! All the hashira were here!

“W-what are you guys doing here?” You asked nervously, if you had known they were coming you would have tidied up some, you definitely would have made more of an effect to make yourself look presentable.

“We came to visit you and Shinazugawa of course!” Rengoku replied, a bright smile ever present on his face. “And no need to be so polite we’re all civilians now after all.”

“R-right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright my young friend!” He smiled a closed eyed smile though the eyepatch was making it difficult.

“So how’ve you been? Shinazugawa treating you well?” Tengen asks leaning over the counter to finger your frilly pink apron. Snatching it off you nodded in response.

“He’s perfect, I-I mean fine, he’s fine. We’re both fine!” Your cheeks darken at your mistake, Tengen laughs again sitting up to slinging his arm around Hinatsuru.

“I’m sure he is.” Tengen grinned.

“D-did you guys want something to eat? Some tea maybe?”

“Yea tea would be lovely and no need to be so nervous around us.”

“Sorry. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that you’re all so…you.”

You wanted to say intimidating, training under the wind breathing master and Sanemi for all those years had taught you that the power of the hashira was something to fear, admire even. They were the strongest warriors after all and you were just a lowly kinoe during your time in the Corps, but when you stop and look at the people standing before you all you can truly think about is…family.

“After everything you’ve all done for this world, I should be respectful. You guys are like heroes, I should be thanking you!” you bowed again, this time properly, as you came from behind the kitchen counter.

“You forget, you were there on that battlefield just the same as us. So pick your head up and come sit with us, we have a lot of catching up to do!”

Rengoku reassured you crossing his arms over his chest.

That was how Sanemi found you as he and your brother returned from dropping off an order, sitting at a table surrounded by your former colleagues and loved ones laughing and reminiscing over tea.

“Ahh Shinazugawa you finally made it! We were beginning to worry!” Tengen waves him over at he sloshes his drink around.

“The hell are you all doing here?”

“We came to visit.” Giyuu said emotionless as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, he sipped his tea quietly.

“I can see that, but…why?”

“We missed you two!” Mitsuri said excitedly as she pulled you to her chest in a tight hug, Obanai shook his head staring at her adoringly.

Sanemi sighed as he looked over his former comrades, they were laughing and just having a good time being nostalgic about the good old days, if you could call it that. Most importantly you were laughing and that image alone was enough to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Closing his eyes he smiled, committing that image of you to memory, and chuckled as he said “It’s good to see you guys.”

After a few hours at the shop you brother decided to kick you all out, saying that you were being too loud and that your friends were drinking up all the profit, so you being the good host that you were, invited everyone back to yours and Sanemi’s home for a nice home cooked meal.

You were having the time of your life during the meal, everyone was joyful and so full of life even with all their scars and missing limbs it was just what you and Sanemi had needed after working so hard for so long. You were so busy having a good time hanging out with your friends that you had hardly noticed the time.

Just as you were about to get up and start cleaning a wave a nausea hits you out of nowhere. Jumping to your feet you raced to the bathroom just before you threw up everything you had eaten that day.

“Is she ok?” Suma asks worry etched onto her face.

“Yeah…this has been happening a lot lately.” Sanemi said, raising from the table to go check on you.

“You doing ok?” He asks, you're still puking when he gets there, he bends down to rub a hand on your back trying to help soothe you.

“Yeah, sorry for the trouble.” You sniff as you wipe your mouth.

“It’s no trouble, but we gotta get you checked out by a doctor,” he says clearly worried about you, this had been a recurring thing for weeks now and he was really starting to get anxious. “this isn’t normal.”

“I know I know.” You waved him off as you stood. Shooing him out of the bathroom, Sanemi returned just as Mitsuri had gotten up to clear the table, Obanai following closely behind her. Shinobu was so lost in thought she hadn’t even noticed Sanemi’s return.

“How long has she been like this?” Giyu asks, knowing where Shinobu’s mind had gone and what she was about to start asking.

“About a month or two.” Sanemi says

“Has she had any other symptoms?” Shinobu asks her finger and thumb resting on her chin in thought.

“Just the nausea and sometimes she has some fucked up cravings but I think that’s just her.” Sanemi pondered as he thought about all the times you made him run out and get you odd snacks like mitarashi dango with natto or yakisoba with horseradish and cheese. You didn't even like natto normally.

Shinobu hmmned as she lost herself in thought again.

“If she’s up to it I can check her out at the Butterfly estate, just have her meet me there in a few days.” She said standing to put her own dishes in the kitchen. Sanemi stood with her grabbing the plates and cup from her hand, walking towards the kitchen he said over his shoulder. “She’ll be there.”

It was a week later when you found yourself outside of the Butterfly estate. You had told Sanemi that you could have just gone to the regular doctor in your village but he refused to let you go, telling you that Shinobu was the best of the best and that if anyone could help you out, it’d be her.

“Go on, she won’t bite ya.” He said, pushing you gently towards the door. You had both been standing outside in the courtyard for a good ten minutes now.

With a gulp you nod your head, dreading anything to do with doctors and the overall medical side of things, steel yourself as you hold your head up high and walk through the shoji doors.

“Welcome, please come in!” Shinobu greeted you as she led you to a back room. The room itself was stark white, six hospital beds were lined neatly along the walls.

“Have a seat and we can get started.” She said patting one of the beds for you. You swallowed thickly as you made yourself comfortable. Around you Shinobu’s assistants Aoi, Sumi, Kiyo and Naho rushed about getting together various medical supplies for her.

While inside the room Shinobu ran a series of tests on you, everything from blood samples to urine samples to throat and nose swabs, just to make sure you didn’t have any underlying conditions she should know about.

It was an hour later when she came back into the room, a single piece of paper was resting in her hand.

“Well, I got your blood work test results.” She said coming into the room.

“Lay it on me Kocho-san how bad is it?” You asked nervously, you had really hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

“It’s just what I thought it was, you’re pregnant.”

Time stopped moving completely.

Pregnant, you weren’t hearing things Kocho had said, you were pregnant.

You had sat there for a moment, too stunned to say or do anything. Your eyes glued to the test results in her hands, too lost in thought to see the gentle look come over the former insect hashira’s face.

You really shouldn’t have been surprised, since he had come home Sanemi couldn’t keep his hands to himself but you had thought you were being careful. Your cheeks flushed as a few incidents came to mind where you both had thrown caution to the wind and gave in to your primal desires.

“Do you need a moment?” Shinobu asked, sitting down next to you on the bed placing a hand on your shoulder.

“N-no I’m fine thank you.” You stammered still not sure that it had fully sank in yet. “I’m just….shocked is all.”

“I understand this can be quite a lot to take in, especially with everything that’s happened over the past year and a half.” She said standing to her feet, while offering a hand to help you to yours. “But rest assured I’ll be here for you every step of the way and I’m sure Shinazugawa will be too.”

You chewed your bottom lip as you left Shinobu.

How the hell were you going to tell Sanemi?

It’s not like the two of you were married and you definitely hadn’t talked about having children together. Did he even want kids? You knew he came from a pretty big family as a child and he absolutely adored the village children but did that mean he wanted one of his own some day?

All those thoughts swirled together violently in your head, distracting you from the warm body that stood in front of you. You were so distracted that you hadn’t even noticed how close he was until you bumped into him as you walked through the door. Arms reaching out to steady you so that you didn’t fall, Sanemi looked at you, concern etched into his features.

“You ok? What’d Kocho say?”

“Well…” you started nervously, how were you going to go about this?

“It’s not exactly a stomach bug but I am going to be sick for a little while. Nine months to be more exact.” You had said in a joking tone to hide your nervousness, hopefully that was all it took for him to get it.

“What the hell, Kocho couldn’t fix you?” Sanemi snapped, he was starting to get irritated.

“It’s not really something that can be fixed, Sanemi.” You deadpanned, it went right over his head it seemed.

“Bullshit, let me go talk to her, there’s gotta be something she can do,” he says, going to bust his way into the room, “maybe she can make you some medicine or something.”

You grab the sleeve of his haori to stop him and he turns to you, confusion settling into his brow.

“Sanemi.” You said, grabbing his hand finally placing it over your stomach.

You could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he figured it out. It was almost like he had finally added up every instance where you were showing signs, all the times you were too tired to drink with him and your brother after work, the sickness no one else but you seemed to have, the cravings. It all made sense now.

His knees nearly gave out from underneath him.

“A-are you-?” He swallowed hard, unable to finish his sentence.

“Yes.” You said gently placing a soft hand over his on your stomach.

“Holy shit.”

You were pregnant.

You were going to be parents.

He was going to be a father.

He stroked his thumb over your stomach, eyes vacant as he stared down at it completely lost in his thoughts. What if he wasn’t good enough? He could barely take care of himself, how the hell was he going to take care of you and a baby? What if he turned out like his old man? A thousand thoughts filtered through his head, his brain running a mile a minute trying to process everything.

Kneeling down on the engawa he buries his head into your stomach, inhaling your scent deeply as he wraps his arm around you. No, he refused to be like his bastard of a dad. He was going to do better, be better, for the three of you.

“Thank you.” He murmured tears prickling his eyes, he blinked them away as quickly as they came.

“W-what are you thanking me for?” You stuttered stroking his hair as you looked down at him affectionately.

“For gifting this beautiful family to me.” He smiles up at you close eyed as he pulls himself away from your stomach.

#kny sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi x reader #sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi shinaguzawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa imagines #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader

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kckt88 · 10 months ago

Text

The Lost Dragon XI - Freedom.

Summary:

The Lost dragon finds his way home.

Warning(s): Childbirth, Dragons, Reunion, Fluff, Kissing, Language, Anger, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Oral Sex (F Recieving), P in V.

*Features a Time Skip*

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 5523

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

As Vaelys cried out in agony, her voice piercing the air with the intensity of her pain, Vermithor, let out a thunderous roar that shook the very foundations of Dragonstone. His mighty roar seemed to echo the anguish of his rider, a primal cry that reverberated through the castle walls.

“Aemond” begged Vaelys her voice filled with desperation and longing. She knew he couldn't be with her, not now, not while he was in exile but still, she couldn't help but yearn for his presence, his strength, his love.

Rhaenyra and Helaena exchanged worried glances, their hearts breaking for Vaelys in her moment of need.

“I want AEMOND” screamed Vaelys, as she clutched at the sheets beneath her with white-knuckled fists, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she fought against the agony that threatened to overwhelm her.

The sound of Vermithor's roar filled the birthing chamber, drowning out all other noise with its raw power and intensity. It was a sound born of empathy and solidarity, a testament to the bond that existed between dragon and rider.

Helaena knelt beside Vaelys' bed; her touch gentle as she reached out to grasp her hand. There was a warmth in her eyes, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes more than words ever could. In that moment of shared vulnerability, Helaena offered Vaelys the comfort of her presence, a silent reminder that she was not alone in her struggle.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra stood on the other side of the bed, taking Vaelys' other hand in hers. Her touch was firm yet gentle, a grounding force amidst the storm of emotions that raged within her daughter's heart.

"You are stronger than you know, my dear," Rhaenyra said, her voice filled with conviction. "It might not seem like it now, but you can do this. You have the strength and the courage to face whatever comes your way."

"Aemond should be here," she sobbed, her words choked with anguish. "I need him-I can't do this without him."

The weight of her longing bore down on her, the absence of her beloved husband a gaping wound in her heart. Each wave of pain only served to amplify her yearning for his presence, for his strength, for his love.

"He should be the one holding my hand” cried Vaelys.

Rhaenyra clasped her daughter’s hand tighter, but her gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the confines of the birthing chamber. There was a tension in her posture, a guardedness in her demeanour, as if she held secrets too weighty to share.

"I know how much you long for Aemond to be here with you in this moment. He would give anything to be by your side, to share in the joy and pain of bringing new life into this world, and even though he can't be here physically, his love for you knows no bounds. He carries you in his heart, just as you carry him in yours” said Helaena, her words carrying a soothing warmth.

"Now I need you to focus your strength, Princess” urged Maester Gerardys, his voice a steady anchor amidst the tumult of emotions that swirled around them. "It's time. I need you to push."

With a guttural scream that echoed through the chamber, Vaelys pushed with all her might, her muscles straining against the weight of her labour. The roars of Vermithor outside grew louder and more intense, as if echoing the pain and determination coursing through her veins.

Helaena held tightly to Vaelys' hand, her own fingers trembling with emotion as she offered silent strength and support. Rhaenyra leaned in close, pressing gentle kisses to Vaelys' furrowed brow, her words of encouragement lost amidst the cacophony of noise.

The sheets beneath Vaelys were stained with blood, a stark reminder of the battle being waged within her body. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, every fibre of her being screaming for respite. But still, she pushed, drawing upon a wellspring of inner strength she never knew she possessed.

And then, with one final, push, the babe emerged into the world, a tiny, wailing bundle of life. Vaelys collapsed back against the pillows, her chest heaving with exertion, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.

Helaena's eyes widened in awe, Rhaenyra's breath caught in her throat, and even Vermithor's roars seemed to falter in the presence of the miracle before them.

"It's a boy," Maester Gerardys announced, his voice filled with wonder as he cradled the newborn in his arms.

As Vaelys gazed upon her son for the first time, a rush of emotion flooded her heart as she whispered, her voice barely a breath, "A son, Aemond-we have a son."

The babe was a vision of beauty, with silver hair that shimmered in the faint light of the birthing chamber and eyes the colour of amethyst, mirroring that of his father. In that moment, he looked the very image of Aemond.

As Rhaenyra and Helaena gathered around Vaelys and her newborn son, their hearts overflowing with love and joy, they knew that their family was forever changed. For in the face of new life, hope blossomed anew, filling the chamber with the promise of a brighter future for them all.

Rhaenyra's eyes shimmered with pride and joy as she looked down at her grandson cradled in her daughter’s arms.

"What are you going to call him?" she asked, her excitement palpable.

Vaelys' smile widened as she gazed upon her newborn son, her heart overflowing with love. "Daevyn," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "It means freedom”.

The significance of the name was not lost on Helaena, who shared a knowing glance with Vaelys. Daevyn was the name that Aemond had chosen for a son before Sovia was born, he saw it as s symbol of hope and resilience.

Helaena's smile grew as she reached out to gently caress her nephew's cheek. "Prince Daevyn Targaryen," she declared proudly, her voice filled with pride.

Sovia, with her bright eyes and messy silver curls, toddled into the room, her tiny hand gripping a plush dragon toy tightly. She paused in the doorway, her gaze fixed on the bundle nestled in her mother's arms.

"Sweet girl," Vaelys whispered, her voice soft with affection, as she gestured for Sovia to come closer.

With cautious steps, Sovia approached her mother and the newborn babe, her curiosity piqued. She reached out a chubby hand, her fingers gently brushing against Daevyn's tiny fist.

Daevyn stirred at the touch, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal bright, amethyst eyes that mirrored Sovia's own. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he gazed up at his sister with wonder.

Sovia's face lit up with a radiant smile as she giggled with delight, her laughter filling the room like a melody. She leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Daevyn's forehead before settling down beside her mother to admire her new baby brother.

Vaelys' heart clenched with a mixture of longing and sorrow. She cradled Daevyn closer to her chest, her thoughts drifting to Aemond, who was still far away in exile.

In that bittersweet moment, Vaelys couldn't help but wonder if Aemond felt the same ache in his heart, the same longing to be with his family. She whispered a silent prayer, wishing for their reunion to come swiftly so they could share in the joys of parenthood together.

Vaelys walked along the sun-kissed shores of Dragonstone, the soft sand beneath her feet yielding with each step. Daevyn nestled snugly against her chest in a sling of cloth, his tiny breaths warming her skin with each exhale. Beside her, Sovia skipped along, her hand clasped tightly in hers, their footsteps leaving imprints in the sand.

Helaena strolled beside them, her three children darting ahead, their laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves. Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor chased each other along the shoreline, their playful antics painting the air with joy.

Behind them, Daeron kept a watchful eye, smiling as he observed his nieces and nephews.

As Sovia giggled and darted off to join her cousins in their playful chase along the shoreline, Vaelys couldn't help but pause for a moment, her gaze drifting across the vast expanse of the sea. A pang of longing tugged at her heart as she wondered quietly to herself: Is Aemond okay?

Sensing her turmoil, Helaena stepped closer, her presence a comforting anchor amidst Vaelys' inner turmoil. With a gentle touch, she wrapped an arm around Vaelys' shoulders, offering silent solace and reassurance.

"He's okay, Vaelys," Helaena murmured softly, her voice carrying the weight of conviction. "Aemond is strong, and he will come home to you".

Vaelys drew a shaky breath, her worries momentarily eased by Helaena's words of comfort. She leaned into her good sister's embrace, finding solace in the warmth of her presence.

Vaelys turned around and a flicker of panic shot through her chest at the sudden absence of Sovia. She scanned the beach frantically, her eyes darting from one spot to another, searching for any sign of her daughter amidst the swirling chaos of laughter and waves.

"Sovia?" she called out, her voice trembling with worry, the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

Vaelys' heart pounded in her chest as she rushed over to Daeron, desperation etched into every line of her face.

"Daeron, where is she?" she demanded, her voice tinged with fear.

Daeron's expression mirrored her concern as he met her gaze, his eyes scanning the beach in search of any sign of Sovia.

"I... I took my eyes off her for just a second," he admitted, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't see where she went."

A surge of panic washed over Vaelys as she processed Daeron's words. She clutched Daevyn closer to her chest, her heart racing with fear for her missing daughter.

“Silver and wing, together the two will sing, an egg for a King” muttered Helaena her voice carrying a cryptic note that gave Vaelys pause.

Before Vaelys could question her further, a sudden roar pierced the air, reverberating through the surroundings with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Their attention snapped to the source of the sound, their eyes widening in awe as a shadow passed overhead. Against the backdrop of the sky, the silhouette of a dragon emerged.

“Silverwing” exclaimed Vaelys her heart skipping a beat as she watched the beautiful silver dragon land on the beach with a thud.

But her wonder quickly turned to panic as she heard Sovia's giggles nearby.

"Sovia!" Vaelys cried out, her voice tinged with fear as she saw her daughter toddling toward the dragon, her tiny hand outstretched in curiosity.

Fear gripped Vaelys' heart as she raced forward, her maternal instincts urging her to protect her child. But to her astonishment, Silverwing lowered her head with a gentle grace, her eyes shimmering with warmth and affection as she regarded Sovia.

A sense of wonder washed over Vaelys as she watched the unlikely encounter unfold before her eyes. With cautious steps, Sovia approached the dragon, her laughter filling the air with joy as she reached out to touch Silverwing's scaled snout.

To Vaelys' astonishment, Silverwing responded with an affectionate purr, her massive head nuzzling against Sovia's tiny hand with a gentleness that belied her formidable size.

"I guess Silverwing has found her rider,” remarked Daeron quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and admiration.

"She's not even two name days old," Vaelys murmured, her voice tinged with wonder as she watched Sovia interact with the majestic creature before her.

In Sovia's innocent laughter and Silverwing's gentle purrs, Vaelys saw the undeniable proof of a bond being formed.

Daeron's laughter rang out across the beach, a buoyant and infectious sound that filled the air with mirth and warmth.

"Imagine Aemond's face when he comes back and discovers that his daughter is the youngest Targaryen in our history to ever claim a full-grown dragon," he exclaimed, his voice laced with amusement. "The guy is going to be so insufferable!"

Vaelys couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, the image of Aemond's proud and boastful demeanour bringing a smile to her lips. She could already picture the gleam of pride in his eye as he regaled anyone who would listen with tales of Sovia's remarkable feat.

Vaelys' gaze shifted to Vermithor, who lay basking in the warmth of the sun, his massive form sprawled out lazily on the sand. With a hint of playful sarcasm, she addressed the dragon.

"Thanks for all your help," she remarked dryly, her tone tinged with amusement.

Vermithor, sensing the sarcasm in her words, cracked open one eye, and let out a low, rumbling huff in response, as if to say, "She’s fine."

Vaelys couldn't help but grin at her dragon's playful reaction, a sense of camaraderie passing between them.

Vaelys turned to Helaena, a flicker of concern crossing her features as she thought of her newborn son. "Sovia has her dragon now, but what about Daevyn?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with worry.

Helaena smiled reassuringly, placing a comforting hand on Vaelys' shoulder. "Don't worry, Vaelys," she said gently. "Daevyn will have his dragon soon enough."

Vaelys nodded, her heart eased by Helaena's words. She knew that in time, Daevyn would find his own companion, a dragon to call his own. With a grateful smile, Vaelys turned her gaze back to Sovia and Silverwing, feeling a sense of peace wash over her as she watched them play together on the beach of Dragonstone.

The wind rushed past Vaelys' face as Vermithor soared through the skies, his powerful wings beating rhythmically against the currents. With Sovia securely fastened in the saddle in front of her and Daevyn strapped to her back, Vaelys felt a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins as she flew with her children.

Beside them, Silverwing soared gracefully, her scales gleaming in the sunlight as she danced through the clouds. Sovia, almost three years old now, squealed with delight, her laughter echoing through the air as she reached out to touch the sky.

"Look, Mama, look!" Sovia exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder as she pointed to the world below.

Vaelys couldn't help but smile at her daughter's infectious joy, her heart swelling with pride at the sight of her children flying with her. Daevyn, just fifteen moons old, gazed wide-eyed at the world around him, his tiny fingers grasping at the air in excitement.

As the winds carried them higher into the clouds, Vaelys couldn't shake the memory of Helaena's comforting words. "Daevyn will have his dragon soon enough," a promise of hope and possibility that lingered in Vaelys' mind.

It wasn't long after that when Silverwing laid a clutch of eggs, each one a shimmering promise of new life. Among them was a single egg, chosen by some unspoken instinct, to be placed in Daevyn's cradle.

Days passed, marked by anticipation, for the egg to hatch. And then, one morning, as the first rays of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, the egg cracked open.

A dragon of silver and blue emerged from the shell, its scales gleaming in the early light as it stretched its wings and let out a triumphant roar. The little hatchling, bonding immediately with Daevyn, curling up at his side.

As time passed, Sapphyre grew swiftly, his scales shimmering in the sunlight as he stretched his wings and tested his strength. Despite his youth, he was already a good size for his age, his lithe form exuding a sense of grace and power that contradicted his tender years.

With each passing day, Vaelys watched with pride as Sapphyre honed his skills, his flights becoming more confident and his movements more fluid. He soared through the skies alongside his mother, Silverwing and Vermithor.

Together, the three dragons danced through the clouds, their wings beating in perfect harmony as they embraced the freedom of the open sky. And as they flew, Vaelys felt a sense of wonder wash over her, grateful for the beauty and magic of the dragons.

Vaelys stood on the sandy shores of Dragonstone, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. As she waited for Aemond's return, her mind drifted back to the night before he left, their final moments together etched into her memory.

"Meet me on the beach of Dragonstone," he had said, his voice filled with determination and longing.

In that moment, Vaelys had promised herself that she would wait for him, no matter how long it took. But now, as she stood there, the weight of uncertainty pressed down upon her, her thoughts swirling with doubts and fears.

What if Aemond didn't come? What if the two years apart had changed him, irrevocably altering the bond they shared?

The air seemed to grow heavy with her doubts, the silence stretching out before her like an endless abyss. But just as her fears threatened to consume her, a deafening roar shattered the stillness, echoing through the air with a force that sent shivers down her spine.

And then, Vhagar descended through the clouds, her majestic form cutting through the sky with a grace that defied description. In that moment, all of Vaelys' doubts melted away, replaced by a surge of hope and longing that burned brighter than the sun itself.

With tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, Vaelys watched as Vhagar landed on the beach.

Aemond began his descent down the rope ladder, his movements eager and impatient. But halfway down, his haste overtook him, and with a determined glint in his eye, he let go of the ladder and leapt down onto the soft sand below.

Vaelys stood there, stunned by the sight of her husband, his features etched with determination and longing. In the two years they'd been apart. Aemond had grown even more handsome, his sharp features softened by the warmth of his smile.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Vaelys drank in the sight of him, her heart overflowing with love and longing. And as Aemond approached her with outstretched arms, she felt a surge of joy wash over her, and with a cry of joy, Vaelys sprinted across the sand toward Aemond, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. As she reached him, she leaped into his arms, her laughter mingling with his as they tumbled into the soft embrace of the sand below.

Giggling uncontrollably, Vaelys peppered kisses all over Aemond's face, her lips finding his cheeks, his forehead, and his nose in a flurry of affection and adoration. With each kiss, she felt the weight of their separation lift from her shoulders, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for the man who held her heart.

Aemond wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they lay entwined in the sand, their laughter echoing across the beach.

Aemond's voice trembled with emotion as he spoke, his eye searching Vaelys' face for reassurance. "I was worried you wouldn't be waiting for me," he confessed, his words heavy with the weight of his fears. "That the years apart would mean you no longer loved me, that you had taken another husband-"

But Vaelys shook her head, her eyes shining with love and devotion as she reached out to cup his cheek. "It's you, Aemond," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with conviction. "It's always been you."

With those words hanging in the air between them, Aemond's fears melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. And as their lips met in a passionate kiss, the world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's embrace, their love stronger than ever before.

"Brother!"

Aemond turned to see Daeron and Helaena hurrying towards them, their faces alight with joy and relief. With a smile spreading across his face, Aemond rose to his feet, pulling Vaelys up beside him as he greeted his siblings.

With open arms, Aemond embraced Daeron and Helaena, pulling them into a tight hug. The warmth of their reunion enveloped them, filling the air with a sense of familial love and unity.

Tears of happiness glistened in Daeron's eyes as he clapped Aemond on the back, his voice thick with emotion. "It's good to have you back, brother," he said, his words echoing the sentiments of everyone present.

Helaena joined in the embrace, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she held her brother close. "We missed you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

With their arms wrapped around each other, the three of them stood together on the beach of Dragonstone, united once more.

As Aemond's gaze scanned the surroundings, his eyes fell upon a small figure standing with Ceci near the steps, a little girl with silver curls cascading down her shoulders. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized her instantly.

"S-Sovia?" Aemond stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His daughter—his precious little girl—stood before him, but she was no longer the baby he remembered. She had grown so much in the two years he had been away, her silver curls just as wild and untamed as ever.

Stunned, Aemond approached her slowly, his steps faltering as he reached out a trembling hand. But Sovia, shy and unsure, backed away, seeking refuge behind Vaelys' protective embrace.

His heart aching with longing, Aemond knelt down before her, his eyes filled with love and longing. "Byka grēges," he whispered softly (Little bug).

At the sound of her father's voice, Sovia's eyes widened in recognition, and then, as if a dam had burst, she uttered a single word that filled Aemond's heart with boundless joy.

"Daddy."

With a cry of delight, Sovia threw herself into Aemond's waiting arms, her laughter ringing out like music on the breeze.

As Aemond basked in the joy of reuniting with Sovia, Vaelys stepped back, allowing father and daughter a few precious moments together. She watched them with a tender smile, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the sight before her.

But as the moments passed, Vaelys knew it was time to share another precious gift with Aemond—their son, Daevyn. With a gentle nod to Ceci, she took her son into her arms, feeling the weight of his tiny form against her chest.

Taking a deep breath, Vaelys turned to face Aemond, her heart fluttering with nervous anticipation. She could see the stunned expression on his face as his gaze fell upon the boy in her arms.

"I-Is he?" Aemond's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief and wonder.

With a soft smile, Vaelys nodded, her heart overflowing with joy. "Yes," she replied, her voice trembling with emotion. "This is your son. His name is Daevyn, born nine moons after you left."

As Aemond took in the sight of his son for the first time, his initial shock quickly gave way to a surge of overwhelming emotion. His heart pounded with a mixture of disbelief and anger, his mind struggling to process the revelation before him.

He had a son—a son he never knew existed. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightening, filling him with a sense of betrayal and fury. How could this have happened? How could his wife have given birth to their child without his knowledge?

His anger simmered, threatening to boil over as he grappled with the enormity of the situation. He knew it wasn't Vaelys' fault—she had been left in the dark just as much as he had. But still, the injustice of it all gnawed at him, fuelling the flames of his rage.

His gaze hardened as he turned his thoughts to Rhaenyra, the woman who had sent him away, tearing him from his family and his home. It was her decree that had forced him into exile, robbing him of the chance to witness the birth of his own son.

Bitterness welled up inside him as he thought of the time lost, the moments stolen from him by forces beyond his control. Anguish mingled with fury as he cursed the circumstances that had kept him apart from his loved ones, leaving him to wallow in ignorance while life carried on without him.

"Aemond," she began softly, her voice filled with warmth and compassion, "Would you like to hold Daevyn?"

Aemond's gaze flickered to his son, in Vaelys' arms, his features serene and innocent. For a moment, the storm of anger and resentment that brewed within him threatened to consume him entirely. But then, with a heavy sigh, he nodded silently, his resolve to confront Rhaenyra simmering beneath the surface for the time being.

Wordlessly, Vaelys carefully transferred Daevyn into Aemond's waiting arms, her touch gentle and reassuring. As their son nestled against his chest, Aemond felt a wave of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the anger and frustration that still lingered in his heart.

The soft glow of candlelight cast a warm ambiance over the small dinner gathering, illuminating the faces of those gathered around the table. Vaelys sat at the head, her radiant smile lighting up the room as she doted on their children, Sovia, and Daevyn.

Beside her, Aemond watched with a sense of overwhelming gratitude, his heart swelling with love as he beheld the sight of his family together once more. Daeron sat across from him, a grin on his face as he regaled the table with tales of his time at Old Town and how he once filled Lord Ormund’s boots with manure, his laughter filling the air.

Helaena sat beside her brother, with Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor by her side, their youthful energy adding to the lively atmosphere of the evening. Aemond couldn't help but smile as he watched them interact, their laughter and chatter a soothing melody that filled him with a sense of peace.

As he looked around the table at the faces of those, he loved the most, Aemond felt a surge of contentment wash over him.

He watched as Vaelys tended to their children with a grace and tenderness that took his breath away, her love for them evident in every gesture and smile. In that moment, Aemond fell in love with her all over again, grateful beyond words for the woman who had stood by his side through thick and thin.

As the evening stretched on and the laughter continued to flow, Aemond found himself lost in the warmth of the moment, his anger towards Rhaenyra could wait because he was home at last.

As soon as the door was closed, Aemond was on her, he wrapped his hand around Vaelys’ throat and pressed her against the wall.

“I can’t wait any longer ābrazȳrys, I need to have you” exclaimed Aemond (Wife).

“-Pār gūrogon issa “ replied Vaeryna as Aemond suddenly lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers (Then take me).

Their kiss was rough and desperate. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

Aemond spun Vaelys around and pressed her face against the wall, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other quickly untying the laces of his breeches.

Gods, he was so fucking hard, he'd been hard the moment he saw his wife again, and in truth if Daeron and Helaena hadn't of been there, he would have fucked Vaelys in the sand.

Aemond nudged her ankle with his foot, signalling for her to open her legs wider.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaelys moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

“Two years-two fucking years I’ve waited-“ growled Aemond.

“Kostilus” begged Vaelys (Please).

"Two years with nothing but my own hand-I fucked my fist everynight, thinking of you"

Aemond pulled up his wife’s skirts and slipped his fingers into her small clothes.

“Fuck” moaned Aemond, gods she was so wet that he almost spilled in his breeches.

Aemond ran his hand up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing his wife with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she bent forward for him.

He pulls aside her small clothes as he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her.

“THAT’S IT!” groaned Aemond.

Vaelys couldn’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts, Aemond set a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers, his hard cock reaching deep inside her.

Then he withdrew from her and span her around, lifting her into his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as he quickly sheathed himself back inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaelys.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

He withdraws from her again, making her whimper in frustration.

But Aemond ignored her as he laid her on the chaise lounge and fell to his knees.

Sliding his calloused hands up her legs, bunching the fabric of her small clothes in his hand before he rips them from her body.

“Aemond” shrieked Vaelys as Aemond’s mouth descends on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into his wife’s core with his tongue, in and out, much faster than his cock ever could.

Still gasping, Vaelys clutched at his head with one hand, her other digging into the fabric of the chaise.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Vaelys ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Aemond growled, deep in his throat. The vibration of his vocal cords rippled through to his tongue and Vaelys gasped; she felt every vibration keenly. Her body tensed for her peak– But Aemond pulled away from her and smirked, his chin shining with her slick.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaelys, the tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.

“Be a good little wife and take what your husband gives you” said Aemond as he reached for the laces of her dress before he grew impatient and tore it from her body, leaving her body bare before him.

His own hands moving to his own breeches and shirt, removing them as quick as he could before he surged forward and worshipped his wife’s breasts. His tongue licking at the stiffened rosy peaks

“P-Please. Husband” sobbed Vaelys as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Hmm” growled Aemond as he wrapped his hand around his wife’s throat and sheathed himself inside her once more.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Vaelys.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance. He marvelled at her body. Such a beautiful, succulent thing his wife was. Allowing him entry into the most sacred parts of her body.

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, over, thrilled to hear Vaelys’ moans of need echoing around their chambers.

His thrusts, brutal and unrelenting.

“Come for me, love” breathed Aemond.

Vaelys screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Gods, he needed to spill his seed, but not like this.

So, with his cock still nestled inside her, Aemond manoeuvred himself into a sitting position with Vaelys on his lap.

“Give me another-I want you to come on my cock again” growled Aemond.

Vaelys ran her hands over the defined muscles of his chest, her nails digging into his pale skin.

“Oh” gasped Vaelys as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on Vaelys’ hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelys dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelys as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

Vaelys’ thighs began to burn, as she felt her second peak approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelys her vision going white as she came around his cock.

“God. Vaelys” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside her, collapsing against the chaise, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses. Meanwhile his wife had collapsed against him, her face pressed into his neck.

"Rest a while ābrazȳrys and I shall have you again-we've got two years to make up for" rasped Aemond (Wife).

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