#I knew this would happen and I’m still wheezing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delulustateofmind · 18 days ago

Text

Yan! JJK Men x Reader: You're sick. Literally.

Description: Oh no, you got sick? Poor thing? Luckily the gorgeous man who kidnapped you will take good care of little ol you!

Characters: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami

TW: Mentions of sick things (throwing up, coughing, ya'know sick stuff), Yandere behaviors, Pet names. Reader is a non sorcerer. Suguru didn't defect, still an insane yan though. Nanami's is the darkest.

WC: 3.9k

A/n: Comfort fic for ME. Some little gremlin at my job got me sick. This could be...better? Idk my mind hazy but I couldn't sleep without writing out my little silly thoughts.

Satoru - You'll be smothered to death

You got sick.

Of course, it would happen now, while Satoru was off on one of his endless missions, leaving you to fend for yourself in the pristine prison he called an apartment. He hadn’t been home in days, blissfully clueless to the fact that even swallowing felt like trying to gulp down shards of glass. Your muscles ached, your head throbbed, and every inch of you craved nothing more than a warm drink and a blanket.

Dragging yourself to the kitchen, you held onto a sliver of hope—maybe there was tea or, if you were really lucky, a sad packet of instant ramen. But every cabinet you opened revealed a whole lot of nothing. Great. You checked the fridge next. Also empty, naturally. Your meals were always mysteriously delivered by someone you'd never met while Satoru was away. Maybe they'd bring you soup…or were you destined for another serving of that fancy sushi you could barely stomach in this state?

You almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of complaining about such “luxuries.”

And cooking for yourself? Yeah, right. Satoru had confiscated the knives ages ago, forbidding you from using them unless he was there to watch over you like the lovesick freak he was. You cast a sarcastic, vulgar gesture toward one of the many cameras he’d installed around the apartment. Not that he’d ever actually check the footage, right? …Right?

With a sigh, you shuffled into the bathroom, opening one cabinet after another, desperate for something—anything—that could bring a sliver of relief. A cough drop, even a crusty, ancient one, would’ve been a miracle right now. But no, it seemed that the only things Satoru deemed essential were shea butters, body scrubs, and various impractical “essentials.” Your throat burned, each swallow a new brand of torture, and frustration prickled behind your eyes.

Before you knew it, you’d sunk to the floor, tears slipping down your cheeks as exhaustion took over. You tried to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but it came out as more of a weak wheeze. Trapped, sick, and utterly alone, you let yourself drift off on the cold tiles, surrounded by empty cabinets and an even emptier feeling gnawing at your chest.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but the faint sound of the front door clicking open stirred you from your feverish dreams. Footsteps echoed through the apartment, far too energetic to belong to anyone but him. You groaned softly, squinting against the bright light as Satoru’s familiar voice filtered through the fog of your headache.

“Yoo-hoo! I’m home, sweet cheeks! Did you miss me?”

You tried to sit up, but the ache in your muscles protested, leaving you slumped against the wall. Before you could answer, Satoru poked his head into the bathroom, his usual grin plastered on his face—though it faltered as his blue eyes landed on you. In an instant, he was crouched at your side, his hands hovering around you as if he couldn’t decide where to start.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he tutted, his grin morphing into a mock pout. “Did you get all pathetic while I was gone?” His fingers found your forehead, and he clicked his tongue, his eyes widening as he felt the heat radiating from your skin. “You’re burning up! Were you planning to bake yourself in here like a cute little fever muffin? And why didn’t you ping me?”

Ah, yes. The pager. Right. Because apparently, pagers were still a thing in Satoru’s world.

You groaned, trying to turn your face away from his intense stare. “Satoru… I was fine.”

“Fine?” he echoed, clearly amused. “Yeah, sure, if by ‘fine’ you mean pathetically slumped on the bathroom floor.” Without warning, he swept you into his arms, ignoring your weak protests as he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down with the same exaggerated care he reserved for something truly precious, pulling the soft white sheets over your shivering frame.

“Do you realize,” he said, half-joking, half-scolding, “how irresponsible it was to get sick while I was gone? Honestly, you should know better.” He bundled the blankets around you so tightly that you could barely wiggle a finger. “You don’t have permission to be sick without me around.”

“Permission?” you mumbled, your voice muffled, eyes half-lidded as the fever continued to fog up your mind.

“Exactly!” He ruffled your hair with that chipper enthusiasm. “If I’d been here, I would’ve made sure you ate properly. And I would’ve personally spoon-fed you medicine—doesn't that sound delightful?” His eyes sparkled with a teasing glint, though there was something unsettlingly serious beneath it.

“Are you going to… let me breathe in here?” you managed to ask, noting just how thoroughly he’d cocooned you.

“Oh, no no,” he chuckled, settling onto the edge of the bed with an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction. “You’re not escaping my care now. Not after letting yourself get sick while I was gone.” He leaned in close, his face inches from yours, that unnervingly charming smile back in place. “I’m on nurse duty, and you’re my sole patient. Lucky you, huh?”

You whined as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. Sure, he was sweet, even doting at times. But he was also, without a doubt, a little bit of a freak. He left, claiming he’d be back with “supplies” that you could only imagine were absurdly over the top.

An hour later, he returned, brandishing a spoon and a cup of soup, and propped you up as if you were some doll. “Now, open up,” he cooed, lifting the spoon with exaggerated gentleness. “You’re going to eat every bite, and then we’re binging every Studio Ghibli movie you’ve never seen. You love those, right? You mentioned it on our first date.” His eyes flashed, a brief, intense look that was almost… possessive, before softening again. “And if I hear even a hint of a cough, I might just smother you in blankets until you forget what a cold feels like.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but the warmth of the soup soothed your throat, and despite the fever still clawing at you, you managed a faint smile. Satoru kept feeding you, chattering on about his mission, each story punctuated with exaggerated gestures that made the soup tremble on the spoon. His presence was overwhelming, but, for once, you didn’t mind.

“See?” he said proudly when you’d finished, grinning down at you like a smug nurse. “All you need is a little Gojo love, and you’re practically healed already.”

He moved to start up Porco Rosso, something you’d never seen but that he insisted you’d adore.

But as he fussed over you, you caught a flicker of worry in his playful eyes—a soft, fleeting look, as though he truly believed you were the most fragile thing in his world. And despite everything, despite the suffocating way he hovered, you felt a strange sense of comfort. Perhaps in a way you were growing insane day by day. He’d stay by your side, even if you were only here because he’d pulled you into his world and held on so tightly, refusing to let go, because losing you was something he couldn’t bear. He couldn't lose someone so important to him.

Suguru - Just let him take care of you, yeah?

Your muscles ached, and your eyes felt swollen, as though you’d cried them shut. Everything hurt, every shiver that wracked your body twisting the ache deeper. Cold sweat clung to you, dampening the sheets that Suguru had so carefully arranged around you. You were caught between chills and feverish heat, unable to reconcile how you could be shivering and sweating all at once.

He’d left early this morning after a long, restless night, one that left its marks painted across your skin. The ache wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but you could still feel each bruise, each bite—a reminder of his hands, his mouth, his possessive need to leave you claimed. Maybe that was why your muscles were so sore, why each breath felt like it only barely filled your lungs.

You swallowed, the pain flaring in your throat. You stared up at the wooden beams of the traditional ceiling, another piece of this house he’d locked you in—for your own good, as he liked to remind you. Once, you’d tried to tell him you needed space, that the relationship was too much, that he was too much. Now, the only “space” you had was this house, shared with him, furnished to his tastes. The traditional Japanese garden beyond the window, with its perfectly placed stones and swaying bamboo, felt like a prison as much as it did a picturesque scene out of a movie.

You drifted off to the rhythmic patter of rain against the shoji screens, wondering how he'd react when he saw you like this. Unease filled you.

A sound brought you back, barely louder than the rain—a soft, padded footfall just beyond the sliding door. A familiar twinge of anxiety stirred in your stomach, the kind you had yet to shake whenever he approached. The door slid open with practiced care, his silhouette filling the frame before stepping inside.

"My love?" Suguru's voice was gentle, almost reverent, as he moved toward you, closing the distance with graceful precision. His violet eyes swept over you, dark with concern, though a small smile tugged at his lips, as though he found a strange beauty in your frailty.

“You’re not feeling well, are you?” he murmured, his voice softening further as he knelt beside you. A sick smile on his lips as if he enjoyed this. One of his hands brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, his touch tender, and intimate. “You poor thing… it’s no wonder. You’ve been keeping everything bottled up. All those silly little thoughts and worries…”

He pressed a warm cloth to your forehead, his fingers gentle, almost soothing. Yet there was something in his touch—a possessiveness, a kind of pride in seeing you like this, dependent on his care, trapped under his gaze.

“You know,” he whispered, his voice low and sweet as he continued to smooth back your hair, “you don’t have to hold back with me. I’ll take care of everything—everything you could ever need. I’ll make sure you never have to worry about a single thing. Not your health, not your happiness… not even your freedom.” His smile softened as his hand moved to cradle your cheek, thumb stroking softly, possessively. “All you have to do is trust me, my love.”

A faint shiver went through you, whether from the fever or his touch, you couldn’t be sure. You tried to turn your face away, but his hand held you firmly, coaxing your gaze back to him. “Rest, darling,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll stay by your side. I’ll make sure you’re safe, warm. Isn’t that what you need?”

His eyes, gentle yet held something so dark in those violet irises, held a depth of obsession that left no room for refusal, and despite the fever clouding your mind, you could feel it—the certainty that no matter how many walls you tried to build, Suguru would tear them down, piece by piece, until all you had was him.

The last thing you heard as sleep overtook you was his voice, murmuring soft reassurances, as he brushed his lips over your forehead.

Suguru adjusted his hold, wrapping the blanket more snugly around you as he cradled you closer, pressing a few soft kisses to the top of your head. You felt his fingers trail down your arm, gentle yet something dark lurked under such a touch, as though even your feverish skin was something precious to him.

He shifted, leaving the bed momentarily, though his gaze never wavered from you, his eyes flickering with a hint of unease at the brief separation. He returned a moment later, a bowl of rice porridge.

Something he must have prepared while you were half-asleep. “I made this just for you. Something gentle, soothing… I didn’t add anything too spicy; I know your throat’s sore.”

He carefully lifted the spoon to your lips, watching intently as you sipped with half-lidded hazy eyes. “Good girl,” he encouraged softly, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Eat up. I’ll make sure you do. I’ll stay right here, feeding you every bite if that’s what it takes.”

You shifted slightly, trying to sit up more reaching for the spoon, but Suguru’s hand pressed gently against your shoulder, holding you down. “Ah, ah, don’t try to get up, my love,” he chided, a faintly scolding edge to his tone. “You’re in no condition to move around.” He gave a soft sigh, though there was a smile in his eyes as he leaned closer, “Just rest. Let me dote on you as much as you deserve. I don’t mind taking care of every little thing.”

He continued to feed you with small, measured bites, murmuring reassurances and encouragements with each spoonful, as though the simple act of eating was an accomplishment he was proud of. “That’s it,” he whispered. “You’re doing so well. Just a little more, love… There’s no need to be shy.”

As you finished, he wiped your mouth gently, his gaze softening as he watched you with a near-adoring smile. “There,” he said, his tone full of satisfaction as if he had achieved something profound just by keeping you fed. He pulled the blankets back up, tucking them so tightly around you that it was almost suffocating, as though he feared even a single draft could harm you.

With a sudden look of inspiration, he began fussing over the room itself, adjusting the windows, pulling the shoji screens shut just a bit tighter. “Can’t have any chills sneaking in, can we?” he said, more to himself than you. “You need warmth, peace… not a hint of discomfort.” He glanced back at you with a pleased smile, clearly contented by the thought of keeping every single detail in perfect order.

Finally, he returned to your side, pulling you back into his arms, and settling you against his chest again. “There we go,” he murmured, his fingers combing carefully through your hair, untangling every knot with precise, gentle strokes. “You don’t need to worry about anything—not about what you’ll eat, not about what you’ll wear, not even about how you’ll get up tomorrow. I’ll handle every little thing.”

You tried to shift, but his hold only tightened, his warmth both comforting and stifling. “Just relax, my love,” he crooned, his lips brushing your temple. “All you have to do is lie here and be good for me, let me keep you safe. I’ll take care of every breath you take if I have to.”

A faint pang of claustrophobia crept in as he held you, but his soothing, rhythmic touch on your hair made it hard to resist sinking back against him. His fingers trailed down your spine, rubbing gentle, possessive circles as he murmured sweet nothings, his voice a soft, dark lullaby.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, his tone dipping into something almost dangerous, though his touch remained gentle. “There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do to keep you safe, keep you here with me.” He stroked your cheek, his gaze intense as he watched you, his face softening as he took in every detail of your weakened state. “So don’t even think about leaving, whether that be in life or death.”

In his embrace, you felt yourself drifting once more, lulled by the warmth, by the touch that was both smothering and tender. And as you lulled to sleep, you couldn’t shake the feeling that with every little act of care, every gentle touch, Suguru was binding you tighter and tighter, locking you in a world where you would always be his to protect—his, and only his.

Nanami - Just to be sure

You awoke abruptly in the night, a sickening wave rising in your stomach. You slipped from his tight grip as quietly as you could, pressing a hand over your mouth as you stumbled to the bathroom, desperate to make it in time. The door shut behind you with a muffled slam, and you collapsed in front of the toilet, gripping the cold porcelain as your body heaved, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. You didn't care whether your captor heard you or not as you continued to drain every ounce of you. You slumped over the seat, letting your cheek rest against your arm as you tried to steady yourself.

But then came the soft, deliberate click of the lock turning. Your heart plummeted as his shadow filled the doorway. Nanami’s gaze was heavy, his sigh almost… indulgent, as if he’d expected this. You couldn’t even bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"Rough night?" he murmured, his tone deceptively soft. In his hand, you heard the faint rustling of cardboard being opened. Medicine, perhaps? You flinched, a prickle of fear clawing up your spine, as your eyes met the cardboard box. "Here," he said, stepping forward and extending a small, pink test between his fingers. "Take this for me.”

The sight of the pregnancy test twisted your stomach again, but this time with a different kind of nausea. You swallowed hard, feeling your hands tremble as you stared at the item he held out so calmly, that familiar, unsettling smile ghosting over his lips.

“Please,” he continued, voice coaxing, his smile a bit too unsettling. “It’s the holidays, after all. Good news would mean so much to me.” His eyes gleamed with a strange intensity, one that made your skin crawl. “Ino and Yuji would love to hear about our little addition.”

Your hands shook as you took the test from his hands, too frightened to refuse, too exhausted to protest. You didn’t dare push him further. You knew what lengths he would go to. You were lucky he wasn't forcing you to piss on it on the spot. The lines between his kindness and his control had long since blurred, and you knew the cost of defiance.

“Could you… step out?” you whispered, your voice barely above a rasp. His expression tightened, a flicker of annoyance clouding his face before he relented, stepping back, but only leaving the door open a sliver.

“I won’t look,” he promised, though his voice carried that familiar edge. “But I’ll be right here in case you… need me.”

His words hung ominously in the silence, and even with him just outside, you felt his presence pressing in on you, felt the weight of his watchful attention. Fucking freak. You forced yourself to go through with it, nerves fraying with each second, each stolen glance you imagined him taking through the door. Finally, the result appeared: one line. Negative.

When you opened the door, he stood waiting, his face unreadable, his gaze fixed. He didn’t say a word, simply handed you another test, and then another, his lips thinning further with each negative result.

A dark shadow crossed his face as he let out a slow, disappointed sigh. “Must just be a stomach bug, then,” he murmured, his tone clipped, tinged with quiet frustration and disappointment. He reached for you, his touch firm as he wrapped an arm around you, guiding you to the shower, reaching to lift the hem of your nightgown. "Let's get you bathed, shall we? My little wife." he said softly.

The words hung heavy in the air—my little wife. There was a possessiveness in his tone, one that sent a fresh wave of dread coursing through you. His hands, steady and unrelenting, guided the straps of your nightgown over your shoulders and down your arms, letting it fall to the floor in a soft whisper of fabric. You felt his gaze travel over you, inspecting you as if to memorize every detail, every inch of skin he considered his.

He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature with his usual calm precision. The warm water began to fill the silence, though it did nothing to wash away the creeping chill that had settled in your bones. His hand remained on your shoulder, a steadying presence that felt more like a shackle than a comfort.

“Step in,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost coaxing, as though this were some intimate, shared moment between husband and wife, as though you’d chosen to be here.

You stepped under the water, feeling its warmth spread over you, but Nanami didn’t move away. Instead, he reached for a cloth, lathering it with soap, his movements deliberate, almost ritualistic. He ran the cloth over your shoulder, then down your arm. You could feel the weight of his gaze, his attention never wavering.

“My little wife,” he murmured again, the words slipping from his lips with unsettling ease. “You’re too fragile. You need someone to look after you… how do expect us to build a family, if you don't let me take care of you?”

His touch moved to your back, the cloth trailing down your spine. Every motion was painstakingly slow, as if he was savoring the moment, drawing it out. His fingers pressed just a little too firmly, a subtle reminder of the control he held, his grip tightening slightly whenever he sensed the faintest hint of resistance.

“You’ve been so stubborn,” he continued, his voice a quiet murmur just above the sound of the water. “I’ve had to go to such lengths to make sure you’re safe, to make sure you understand that this is where you belong. With me.”

You swallowed, the words dying in your throat as you felt the cloth glide down your arm again, his movements lingering, methodical. He was talking as if he truly believed this—his delusion woven so deeply into his mind that he couldn’t see it for what it was.

As he finished, he reached to turn off the water, his hand lingering on the knob for a moment before he looked back at you, his smile too kind for comfort. “I’ll dry you off,” he said, almost tenderly, reaching for a thick towel off the counter and wrapping it around your shoulders.

He guided you out of the shower, his hold firm as he began patting your skin dry with a soft towel. His hand brushed your cheek, wiping away a stray droplet, his gaze softening in a way that would’ve seemed caring if not for the dark gleam beneath it.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, his voice low and sickeningly sweet.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could pull away, he held you tighter, pressing his lips softly to your forehead, a mockingly gentle gesture that only served to deepen your dread.

“Let’s get you back to bed, my little wife,” he murmured, his tone soft and full of sickening love that made your skin crawl. He guided you out of the bathroom, his hand firm on the small of your back, and with every step, you could feel the walls of your world closing in, tighter and tighter, until there was no room left for escape.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere geto suguru #soft yandere #yandere geto x reader #yandere gojo #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere jjk #yandere nanami x reader #yandere nanami kento #yandere nanami

337 notes · View notes

cobaltperun · 6 months ago

Note

I haveth a request ☝️

could you write Cairo x g!p fem reader smut.

Maybe a childhood best friends type situation like Genius, but they stayed friends all throughout middle school and high school and they catch feelings for each other somewhere in between middle school and beginning of high school. They constantly sneak longing stares at each other and unknowingly make each other jealous until the tension is unbearable and one day when Cairo, Winnie, and reader are hanging out they started telling hookup stories but Cairo is still a virgin so she just sits there quietly listening and after Winnie goes home things happen.

No Chance

Cairo Sweet x Female (GP!) Reader (Request) (Smut, minors do not interact)

Masterlist

A/N: Feast! On the worst thing I have written thus far! I'm sorry Anon, this just didn't work for me. I wrote it, I kinda made what you asked for, but it didn't quite inspire me and I don't feel like leaving it for later would have made it flow any better.

Word count: 3.1k

You can’t love her like that. She’s your best friend.

Those were the words you kept saying to yourself for over four years now. Yet that love kept getting stronger as time passed. And every single time you thought that maybe, just maybe you could get over her you would just see her with someone, and it wouldn’t even have to be more than just sharing a laugh with some random guy, and you’d get reminded of how strong your feelings for her were.

Those feelings didn’t matter though. She was your best friend, and she didn’t love you back.

~X~

For how long was she going to torture herself like this? She loved you, she longed for you, yet her feelings always felt unrequited. True, Cairo has never been the most direct with her feelings toward you, fearing she would ruin the friendship that lasted since she was four years old. But there was no way you missed all of her longing glances. All the times she watched you so love-struck Winnie would tease her about it when it was just the two of them.

You were her protective best friend and you acted as one, though Winnie often referred to it as jealousy. Winnie didn’t know anything. You were like that even when the two of you were kids, protective and kind. It didn’t mean anything more, as she used to hope.

Not since you…

She couldn’t get angry, you just chose some other girl and that was it, and ever since then she lost hope of ever being with you. If it really didn’t mean anything to you to lose your virginity like that, why didn’t you just come to Cairo?

If it meant nothing to you, maybe in the end it would mean nothing to Cairo as well. As it was, she wasn’t even an option for you.

~X~

You and Winnie came over to hang out at Cairo’s place, since it was the most convenient location. Perks of her parents never being around, you guessed. Though you knew Cairo would gladly trade that perk for loving parents.

It started out as a regular night, you and Cairo leaning against the headboard of her bed, while Winnie sat at the foot of it. Being this close to Cairo wasn’t anything new, but you couldn’t help but feel the tension, something unspoken between the two of you ever since you told her about the girl you slept with. Either way, the three of you were playing cards until Winnie decided to speak up.

“Oh, yeah, did you ever go out with that girl you fucked?” she asked while you were in the middle of drinking the juice.

And, naturally, you nearly choked on it, because who the fuck opens the conversation with that?!

“Easy, lover girl,” Cairo was patting your back a bit too harshly, but it was getting the job done, and nearly choking made you miss the passive aggression dripping from her tone.

“Thanks,” you wheezed, finally sure that you would survive. “I’m okay now,” you glared at Winnie who just shrugged, though she did have an apologetic smile on her face.

“So, the what’s-her-name girl,” she reminded you as Cairo leaned back on her bed, though she made some extra distance between the two of you.

You rolled your eyes. “It was a one-night stand, we had a fun time and I left her house after we were done, I didn’t even sleep over,” you shrugged, giving up the minimal information because you knew Winnie wouldn’t let it go now that she remembered it.

Winnie stared at you blankly. “That’s a boring story for your first time,” she complained.

“Better boring than bad,” you figured reminding Winnie of her own first experience, which, well, didn’t end that spectacularly.

“Still,” Winnie let the gravity do its’ job as she leaned to the side and fell onto the bed. “I thought you’d wait for someone you love,” she pointed out.

You looked away, not wanting to look at Cairo at the moment.

“Y/N?” Cairo noticed your silence, forcing you to turn back and grin.

“There’s no point. I don’t have a chance with her, so, you know, no point in waiting,” you’ve given up on Cairo ever returning your feelings, so it really didn’t matter who you lost your virginity to. Not the most mature approach, but you were only eighteen, it was difficult to expect a mature approach from someone your age.

You could see Winnie about to tease you, but you glanced at her, shaking your head lightly and it luckily sent the message across, stopping her from saying anything else.

Eventually, it was just you and Cairo, as Winnie had to go finish some art project and for once Cairo figured she wanted to watch a movie.

“So, it’s nothing to you, having sex?” she asked you out of blue as the slow opening scene began playing on the TV, and you looked at her, frankly, confused by the tone of her voice. She sounded jealous and if she truly was jealous, you wished she showed you that earlier.

“I guess,” you fell back so you were lying next to her instead of sitting, though you could still see her face, and just looked at the ceiling. It’s not that it was nothing to you, you just, as you said to her and Winnie before, didn’t think you had a chance with ‘the one you loved’ that one being Cairo. So, you went and lost your virginity, it was mutual understanding that it was a one-night stand, and that was it.

“So, you wouldn’t mind taking someone’s virginity?” she asked, leaning back but not quite lying down and trailed her fingers across your arm.

Blood rushed to your face at the look in her eyes. You had to be misunderstanding this somehow, right? Surely, she didn’t mean her virginity?! “Yours?” you squeaked, which only made you feel even more embarrassed.

Cairo nodded, blushing furiously. “I don’t really want to lose it to just anyone, and you’re,” she paused, looking down as her hand slipped from your arm and onto the bed. “My best friend,” she refused to look at you.

You swallowed hard, fuck, she was serious. You touched her chin and gently tilted it up. “Are you sure?” you asked her and she just nodded, her eyes finally meeting your own.

“Let me take you out on a date first, give you the whole experience,” you suggested. “Tomorrow after school, we grab a nice dinner, and then if you’re still sure this is what you want, we’ll do it,” you still expected her to tell you it was a prank, but she just nodded, and though it was awkward and both of you stole occasional glances at each other you managed to get through the movie.

~X~

You took Cairo out, as you promised. After school you showed up at her house with a bouquet of red roses, properly dressed up for the date and forcing yourself not to look at her too much, as she was dressed in a beautiful, kinda short, black dress with open back.

“You look amazing,” you said smiling slightly as you handed her the flowers.

“Thanks,” she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and the two of you went out. You took her to the local restaurant, then to a bookstore, then for a brief walk before you finally went back to her place, and you could feel both of you being on the edge at the moment.

“If you change your mind we can stop at any time, it doesn’t matter if it’s now or if I’m hard, or if I’m even inside you. You say stop, we stop,” you assured her as she led you by your hand to her bedroom.

Cairo nodded and kissed your cheek. “You as well, I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” she told you as she sat down on her bed.

“Thanks,” you sat down to her right and leaned over, kissing her neck and her breath hitched. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” she closed her eyes and leaned back, exposing her neck to you. She moved her hands up and the tips of her fingers lightly massaged your cheek and jaw while her left hand slipped to the back of your head, her fingers running through your hair and massaging your scalp. “Oh,” she hummed when you found a more sensitive spot and sucked on it, surely leaving a hickey right there.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” you whispered, your lips gliding over her skin until you reached her ear and gently nibbled on her earlobe. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Cairo squeezing her thighs, you saw her breasts rising and falling as her breathing became deeper.

You were going slow, making sure she felt every sensation as you slid your hand down her side, to her thigh, and you squeezed lightly before pushing her thighs apart and slipping a hand under her dress. You felt her tensing and relaxing as you caressed her bare stomach and sides, just playfully teasing her by occasionally pulling at the strap of her bra.

“Y/N,” she sighed, and you drank it all in, every small sigh, every tiny whimper or moan, every sound you made her make. You took it all in, not for a moment pausing when it came to kissing her neck.

“How are you feeling?” you asked her.

Did you really have to ask her? The only thing that would have made this even better would be if you kissed her on the lips, but it felt like you weren’t going to do that. Even without that she felt so damn good, your warm soft lips on her neck, your wet tongue, dragging over her sensitive neck, your hand under her dress, teasing her everywhere you could reach. She felt aroused, she felt the wetness soaking her panties and that was the only uncomfortable feeling she had. She needed to get them off, to feel your fingers down there instead. “It feels good, I need more though,” she gasped as you bit her neck. How long have you been paying attention to her neck? It was sensitive to begin with, but now it felt like every little touch was going straight to her puss. “Please, Y/N,” she moaned and leaned back, falling onto the bed and pulling you along with her.

“Are you getting wet, hm, Baby?” you rasped, and she gasped, her fingers digging into the back of your head as her left hand slipped down your throat, her nails undoubtedly leaving red stripes down your skin

“Yes! Please touch me,” she whimpered arching her back when you cupped her breast through her bra. You were building up her anticipation and she wondered why she ever waited to do this. Why did she never asked you to take her virginity before. “Can I kiss you?” she pleaded as she made you look her in the eyes.

“Cairo, that’s…” you paused, losing your momentum. As crazy as it might sound, you felt like kissing her would make this too real, that it would be one detail that makes all your feelings come out. That feeling her lips against yours would, more than anything, make you give into your feelings and ruin the friendship that was already hanging by the thread.

“Please,” she was breathing heavily, turned on, yet you saw something else in her eyes, something that couldn’t be true.

“I,” you tried to resist her, to not cross that line, but how many times did you imagine kissing her? You feared you’d regret either choice. In the end you nodded, and her lips pressed softly against yours, her hand gripping the fabric of your shirt as she pressed against you. And instead of fondling her breast you lowered your hand to her waist and hugged her.

Cairo moaned into the kiss, feeling like someone was setting off fireworks in her head. You let her kiss you, and she would be damned if she didn’t kiss you as many times as she would be allowed to tonight. If this was the one and only time the two of you would be intimate like this, she wanted all of it.

You separated from air, and you leaned your forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” your apology made her heart sink. “I love you. You’re the one I have no chance wi-“ she cut you off with another kiss, her tongue danced with your own and she made you switch positions to get on top of you. “Fuck, Cairo,” you hissed as she threw her dress off and lifted your shirt up.

“You,” she was feral, kissing your neck, grinding against you, her hands roaming your body as if she had to map out every bit of your skin in her mind. “Dumbass!”

You just blinked, eyes wide and mouth open as you watched her, unable to come up with a response.

“Don’t have a chance with me?! I’ve loved you for years you idiot!” she yelled, her voice cracking as she pulled back and just looked at you. “I love you,” she whispered, kissing you deeply and it all made sense now, her reactions, her glances, and you cursed yourself for being too blind to see that all along your feelings were reciprocated. “I love you,” she said again when she paused kissing you. “Now, let’s finish what we started,” she whispered, her lips ghosting over yours and you lost it a bit when she took her underwear off and helped you strip as well. You were already hard, but you wanted to prepare her more, to make her cum, or at least bring her close first.

“Yes, Ma’am,” you teased and slipped a finger between her folds, she was wet enough for your finger to just slip in.

“Fuck,” she whispered at the feeling of your finger pushing into her and she wondered how your cock would feel as she experimentally rocked her hips back and forth, causing her clit to rub against your palm.

“That’s it, Baby, ride it,” you gently pushed another finger inside her after you were sure she was wet and stretched enough, and it took a bit to adjust, but the pleasure more than made up for it. Cairo leaned down, pulling your head to her breasts and moaning. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, she gripped your shoulder, and the back of your head as you kissed her breasts and occasionally sucked her nipples. She felt good before, but now that she knew you loved her, now that you were no longer having sex as best friends, but as two people that loved one another, every touch felt more intense.

You held her hip with your free hand, your fingers occasionally slipping down to her ass as you guided her movement. “Wait,” she cried out. She was close, she was so close, but she wanted to have an orgasm with your cock inside her, and just like you promised you would you stopped completely, pulling your fingers out of her and completely halting everything you were doing. “I want your cock inside me,” she assured you before you could start worrying.

You nodded, flipping the two of you around once more. “It’ll be easier like this,” you told her as you brushed some of her bangs from her eyes and kissed her softly. You pulled a condom out of the pocket of your pants and opened it. “Just give me a moment,” you whispered in her ear, putting the condom on and just to make it as easy as it possibly could be, lubed it up.

Cairo moaned as you slowly pushed the head of your cock inside her while rubbing her clit. “I’ve got you, just relax,” you hugged her with your other arm and peppered her neck and shoulders with butterfly kisses as you pushed further inside.

“I know,” she hugged you back, pulled you closer to her and took several deep breaths as you pushed the last inch into her. “You got me,” she whispered, throwing her head back and taking a moment to adjust.

“Does it hurt?” you asked as you left kisses from her shoulder all the way to her lips.

“No, I just feel so full, just give me a moment,” she pulled you in for a kiss, her tongue slipping inside your mouth as she slowly pulled her hips back a bit and then pushed back against you. “Feels so good,” she moaned, encouraging you to slowly start moving as well.

She was tight, and her pussy was clenching around you so hard you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long, and you didn’t want to resort to thinking about anything else to stop yourself from cumming. Not when you were finally with Cairo. “I don’t think I’ll last long,” you told her as much.

“Me neither!” she cried out, her face twisting into an expression of pleasure as you gradually picked up the pace. “Just a bit more, Baby,” she encouraged you and you rubbed her clit harder, intent on making her cum first. Your efforts paid off as her back arched and she gasped, cumming with a near silent cry and pushing you over the edge as well.

You pulled out, shaky and out of breath, but satisfied as you kissed Cairo once more. “You have no idea how much I am going to kiss you from now on,” you chuckled, unable to get enough of her lips.

“Mhm, you better do some other things as well,” she pecked you on the lips, a bit too tired to do anything else.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and feeling your body relaxing as you helped Cairo calm down as well. “I’m going to go and get a bath ready for you,” you whispered, but just as you were about to pull away she reached up and grabbed your hand.

“For us,” she said with a smile on her face and you nodded.

“Right, for us,” you leaned down, kissing her softly once more before you headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and get a bath ready for you and Cairo.

#cairo sweet x female reader #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #miller's girl #jenna ortega x reader #bottom cairo sweet #top reader #g!p reader #x reader #x female reader

755 notes · View notes

too-much-tma-stuff · 7 months ago

Text

Finally Getting Help (prt 16)

Masterpost

Sorry for the delay on this part! And there might be more to come, I thought of a new AU that's devouring my brain XD I'll still be working on this it's just going to be slightly slower.

-----------

Jason sat next to Danny, holding his limp hand as Bruce flew them back to the cave and landed gently. “Do we have a way to contact Frostbite?” Jason asked as they wheeled Danny into the Cave’s med bay.

“Yes, as long as Constantine isn’t too drunk,” Batman said dryly.

“If he is, I'll sober him up real quick,” Jason responded just as dryly. Batman chuffed out a soft laugh before pulling out his Justice League communicator and called Constantine.

After hearing Constantine was on his way, and grabbing a domino mask, Jason tuned out the conversation, returning to Danny’s side, taking his hand again. Jason jolted slightly when Danny’s fingers twitched and curled slightly around his own.

“Danny?” He asked softly, leaning over his boyfriend.

Danny’s brow pinched just a little and then he opened his eye, squinting up at Jason. He held his breath as Danny blinked and looked around before letting out a soft groan and closed his eyes tightly for a moment.

“Hey, how do you feel,” Jason asked softly as Bruce finished the call and hustled over to check Danny’s vitals.

“Thirsty, like I was hit by a bus,” Danny croaked but there was a flicker of a smile around his mouth. “Where are we?”

“I’ll get you some water,” Jason said, squeezing Danny’s hand before hurrying to grab a water bottle.

“You’re in the bat-cave, you passed out after the fight. We’ve gotten in contact with Frostbite, he should be here soon.” Batman told Danny, as soft as he ever was behind the mask.

“I passed out huh?” Danny sighed, pushing himself up with a soft groan and accepted the bottle of water from Jason once he’d opened it for Danny. He drank deeply and sighed with relief. “Frostbite doesn’t need to come though, I almost always pass out after using my wail, and twice in one night? I must have conked out for a bit longer than usual, nothing to worry about really.”

“We’d still feel better having you looked over,” Bruce said just as gently

“Yep, and hey, while he’s here maybe he can look me over too. We talked about me having an appointment with him,” Jason pointed out. He knew that Danny would feel better if it wasn’t just for him.

As Jason sort of suspected he would, Danny paused, then sighed and nodded, laying back down on the gurney with a little groan. Fine,” He sighed softly, handing the bottle back to Jason who set it aside for Danny. “What happened to Vlad?”

“He got away,” Bruce said with a sigh. “Spoiler, Blackbat, and Red Robin are still looking for him but so far without success.” Bruce said with a frustrated set to his jaw.

“I hope they’re being careful. I’m sorry, I should have guessed he would be tracking me. You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked, looking at Jason worriedly.

“I’m completely fine. And they will be too, they’re tough and they have the tech you build for them,” Jason promised Danny with a reassuring little smile.

“I hope so,” Danny groaned. “God Vlad is such a bastard.”

A green portal opened in the middle of the Bat-cave and a giant yeti like ghost came charging out with a very frazzled looking John Constantine on his heels. “Is the Great One alright?!” The yeti asked worriedly.

“Ya Frostbite I’m fine,” Danny promised, sitting up again and giving him a little smile. “I just overused my powers again.” Danny didn’t seem surprised when Frostbite came charging over and scooped him up in a tight enough hug that it made Danny wheeze. Jason and Bruce got out of the way and gave Constantine a curious look, he gave them a helpless shrug. “But I still need to breathe,” He gasped and Frostbite quickly put him down again, apologizing all the while.

“I’m glad you are alright! But it’s about time for a check up for you and the little ones anyway,” Frostbite said warmly before suddenly noticing Batman and Jason, he had been too sign mindedly focused on Danny previously. “Oh! Hello,” He greeted brightly.

“Frostbite, this is my new guardian Batman, and my boyfriend Jason,” Danny said, using his civilian name since Jason wasn’t in costume.

“Ah! Wonderful to meet you!” Frostbite said, offering his big hand for Bruce to shake, who accepted, and tried not to seem taken aback by just how enthusiastically Frostbite shook it. He nearly lifted Bruce off the ground! At least when Jason’s turn came he was prepared. “It’s good to know he’s finally away from the Fenton’s, they were terrible guardians. He and the little ones will be safe with you, yes?” There was a hint of a warning in his voice and the temperature dropped a few degrees.

“Yes, of course,” Batman said firmly. “I will do my best to protect them and provide a safe environment.”

Frostbite nodded and looked at Jason.

“I’ll do my best to make him happy,” Jason said a little lamely, but Frostbite seemed to accept it.

“Excellent!” Frostbite said brightly again and turned back to Danny.

“Once we’re done can you have a look at Jason?” Danny asked Frostbite. “He died too, and has had some trouble since coming back.”

“Of course, Great One. But we will be giving You a thorough check up first,” Frostbite insisted. Danny gave a resigned sigh and nodded.

Danny sat back down on the cot and let Frostbite examine him. Since neither objected to Bruce and Jason’s presence so they both stayed to watch, and support Danny if he needed it. Constantine wandered off, he wasn’t part of the family after all, this was none of his business.

The check-up was… odd, it mostly consisted of Frostbite waving his hands around Danny, occasionally touching very deliberate places, while asking him questions about how he was feeling, physically and emotionally, and what had happened. He touched the center of Danny’s forehead, his chest, every time he did little waves of blue light went through Danny. The one over Danny’s stomach made him gasp softly and Frostbite frowned at him, Danny smiled back sheepishly.

“Can you show me your core?” Frostbite asked, pulling back.

Danny nodded and reached into his own chest, something Jason would never get used to seeing, and drew out his core. Jason hadn’t seen it before, he thought it was absolutely beautiful, the most perfect sapphire he’d ever seen, glowing silver blue with an opalescent sheen, it looked like a miniature planet, like it might contain an entire world.

Batman had seen it before, and he knew that it looked significantly dimmer then it had been the first time Danny had showed it to him. That was… concerning. Frostbite seemed to think so too by the way he was frowning at Danny. He pulled out some sort of souped up magnifying glass from somewhere and started to examine Danny’s core, though he didn’t once touch it.

“There are no cracks or chips, you simply overused your powers,” Frostbite said, putting away the magnifying glass and gesturing for Danny to put away his core. “I’m surprised honestly, for most leaving your Fraid and your haunt like you did would have caused far more damage. It’s testament to how well your current caretakers are looking after you that you’ve weathered the transition so well.

“I wouldn’t try to use your powers for about a week to let your ectoplasm regenerate. There’s significantly less here then there was in Amity Park, there’s still plenty to sustain you but you’ll need to ration it’s use a little bit to have enough for you and the little ones to develop properly.” Frostbite said with a definitive nod.

“I will, if I can,” He promised, looking down. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to be attacked this time. What happens if I Do overuse my powers too much?” Danny asked, glancing up at his Doctor.

“Well-” Frostbite started and then stopped himself, looking down at Danny consideringly. “I’m not entirely sure. With a regular ghost the child would either take significantly longer to form properly, or the parent might even retreat into their own core and lose the baby. But you are still living, and the babies have flesh forms as well, yes?” Danny nodded and Frostbite tilted his head slightly. “It’s… possible that even if you deplete yourself you and the babies will be alright, your ghost form would retreat and you and the babies will be, for all intents and purposes, fully human for a time. But I would not test that! There are too many ways it could go wrong.”

“Oh I don’t want to test it,” Danny said with a wry smile and a shake of his head. “Like you said, it’s kind of amazing my core is in as good shape as it is with all the changes lately, and if it broke it would End me, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” Frostbite said ruefully, patting Danny’s shoulder sympathetically “But let's not focus on that! You and the babies are doing well! here , drink this,” He produced a little vile of a viscous glowing green liquid and patted Danny’s shoulder, which was apparently his queue to hop off the cot. He drank the liquid like a shot and handed the vile back to Frostbite who stowed it back in whatever liminal space he’d been pulling all of these things from.

“Are you ready?” Danny asked Jason. Resting a hand on his arm. Oh right, Jason had almost forgot he was going to be getting a check-up too.

“Ya, sure,” Jason agreed with a sharp nod. He was nervous, seeing Danny’s interactions with Frostbite had put some of it at ease but he was still a bit scared about what Frostbite would find.

“Can I hold your hand?” Danny asked, knowing Jason needed it, but wouldn’t ask. Jason nodded again and went to sit on the cot like Danny had. Danny stayed next to him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Alright! What seems to be the trouble?” Frostbite asked Jason, warm and sympathetic.

“Well, I died a while ago. I came back and we don’t totally know why, I went through some shit, got dunked in stuff we call Lazarus Water, which heals the sick and kills the healthy, and occasionally resurrects people. And I’ve been having issues ever since. I can’t control my emotions well, I have violent outbursts and dissociative episodes, I do things without knowing I am, or remembering it sometimes?” Jason said, glancing at Danny who gave him an encouraging smile. “None of this happened before I died and came back, I really don’t think it’s trauma either. Danny confirmed there was something wrong.”

Frostbite hummed and looked back at Danny, who nodded. “I did, I mean, I don’t really know what I was looking at but it did feel… off,” He said with a helpless little shrug.

“Alright, I’ll have a look,” Frostbite agreed and gently rested a clawed finger against Jason’s forehead. Cols rushed down over him, not refreshing cool water like it had been with Danny but freezing cold. It made Jason gasp and tense but he refused to pull away. Slowly a frown formed on the ghost doctor's face and he tutted. Well that was a bad sign.

“Frostbite,” Danny said, a warning tone in his voice.

“Ah! My apologies! It’s nothing as bad as what you might think! I haven’t seen something like this in a very long time. Granted I rarely have occasion to tend to mortals but…” He trailed off and pulled back, the feeling of ice against Jason’s skin vanished. “Your resurrection was botched. You are alive, but it’s not…” Frostbite seemed to think about the best way to explain this.

“Your soul was never given the chance to enter your body properly. I would guess when you ‘came back’ it was as an undead rather than a truly living person. Then the Lazarus Water resurrected your body and bound your soul back to your body, the way that it had previously been, which was not entirely… inside your body.

“You’re soul and your body are not quite one being. It’s like a bone that broke and was not set before healing properly, it created some… spiritual nerve damage.” He saw Jason’s look of confusion and sighed. “I’m sorry, this is hard to explain to the living.”

“So, that’s causing all my issues?” Jason asked hesitantly.

“Yes and no, it also seems to have damaged your ability to process the lingering ectoplasm from your ghost, and the Lazarus Water, which seems to be a corrupted ectoplasm. I suspect those are causing the emotional outbursts,” He said. “I’d need a sample of Lazarus Water to confirm that.”

“I can get you that,” Bruce rumbled. “So, how can we fix this?” He asked, always blunt and to the point.

“It’s not that simple. How would you fix a bone that healed wrong?” Frostbite asked.

“In a lot of cases… you have to break it again,” Jason said with a wince.

“Yes, now we will Not do that, killing and resurrecting you again with the hopes it would be correct this time is far too risky. I mean to say with how set your soul is in its current position this is going to be a very long process with an unclear prognosis. I suspect just spending time around the Great One will help,” Frostbite said, gesturing at Danny. “Infusions of uncorrupted ectoplasm will hopefully clear out the corrupted stuff and ease the emotional issues. It may also strengthen your soul which, as long as you are at peace inside yourself, will help it settle back into its proper place.

“You should know that it is possible that if you are entirely at odds with yourself, strengthening your soul might have the opposite effect of allowing it to pull even further away from your body. Managing your support system and obsessions will be crucial to recovery. Phantom can help you with that as well, he has more experience,” Frostbite said gently. “It’s important to remember that most ailments of the soul have an emotional element to them, and not try to find fast and easy fixes that will make things worse in the long run.”

“I understand,” Jason said numbly. He really had been hoping there would be some clear easy fix.

Danny squeezed Jason’s hand and Jason looked at him and was greeted by a warm smile. “The important thing to remember is we know what’s wrong now, and that things can get better. You’re already on the right track reconnecting with family and being with me.”

Jason took a deep breath and nodded, Danny was right. This had been going on for years now, nothing had really changed just because he knew. It wasn’t like he was getting diagnosed with something terminal. “Right,” Jason agreed with a nod and took a deep breath, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders. “Right, thanks Frostbite.”

“It’s my pleasure! I’ll supply Phantom with the pure ectoplasm, he knows how to administer it well enough. I shall come check up on both of you again in a month’s time, but I should be going now!” Frostbite said, hugging Danny again tightly before wandering off, muttering about wondering where that magician got off to.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #danny fenton #dead on main #jason todd #fanfiction #batman #john constantine #frostbite #finally getting help AU #Trans!danny #pregnant!danny #bruce wayne

552 notes · View notes

mysterycitrus · 8 months ago

Text

[a roy pov companion snippet to persephone part two]

There was a time, just after his father’s death, when Roy would fall into fits of choking suffocation.

His throat would close, his mouth turning itchy and hot and tight and he’d gasp and claw at his own flesh, desperate for air. Wheezing, bent over on all fours, struggling to breathe and desperate for relief, swallowing around that phantom smoke in his lungs that clung to him and refused to leave.

Brave Bow would find him in the dirt, press a calloused hand to his forehead and brush his hair from his eyes. He’d had the same hands as Roy’s father, then – steady from years fletching arrows.

Calm, boy, he’d say. The fire is gone, and you remain. You remain, and for that you must breathe.

It’d taken years before Roy felt it again, crouched with a needle in his arm and Oliver Queen’s shadow casting him in darkness. That same, encompassing squeeze that pushed his organs taut against his bones, stretched like taffy and drawing all air from his body. It’d been Dinah there with him, that time. Different callouses, with that same tender gentleness.

Then, Jade. Lian. Ollie. Donna. His comfort changed shape, and he learnt to drag himself out of the fire by himself, breathing around the fist in his mouth. The feeling became familiar, and so did the way it would leave him trembling and skittish. In and out. Inhale, exhale. You remain, and for that you must breathe.

Now, he’s sitting on a rooftop in Queens, and the smoke has returned to drown his best friend, because Dick Grayson believes there is evil in him. That all the good he’s done is poisonous. That he bears the burden of a grown man’s mistakes. Because – because Bruce Wayne couldn’t let one good fucking thing in the world lie.

He carries through the motions, watching himself from outside his own body as Dick thrashes, refuses to breathe until Donna physically compresses his lungs for him, forcing him to inhale. His heart is beating so fast it’s as if it’s not beating at all.

Never in his life has Roy wanted to kill someone more.

Donna is staring bullets into the side of his head as they descend into Dick’s apartment, holding him with a tight grip. Dick, younger Dick, seventeen-year-old hurt and miserable and alone Dick, stays silent but his eyes flutter like he’s about to pass out. The bruise on his face has only darkened in the hours since they left Jason Todd’s apartment, and the yellow spots on his cheekbone have started to purple. The bags beneath his eyes are deep.

How did I never notice he was like this? Roy thinks, half incredulous at himself. How did we let this happen that first time?

There was an answer, but it was for an older Dick who still carried all his cards to his chest. Would they be forgiven when that Dick found out what they knew about him? How they knew him now, better than they had before?

Garth, bless him, is holding a performatively casual pose as they gently push Dick through the open window. The soup is in a bowl – the slightly misshapen one that’d been Damian’s first try with a kiln – and Garth looks at him, then the soup, and pivots to start the kettle instead. What Dick really needs is solids, and maybe some protein, Roy knows, but the chances of him just throwing it back up again are high.

“Garth,” Roy says, and Garth turns those big, glistening eyes at him. It’s like staring into a lava lamp. “I’m sorry, but nobody wants any fucking soup.” Then he risks putting his hands on Dick’s shoulders – the kid doesn’t flinch, thank God – and says: “You, stay there. I need to go put my head in the shower.”

He presses down gently until Dick sits on the couch, carefully avoiding Donna’s gaze as she tries to catch his eye and rubs his hands over his face. Inhale, exhale. The smoke thickens, twists, chokes. Roy tilts a little but manages to regain his balance, and passes Donna as she goes to Garth, still fretting in the kitchen. Trusting, finally, that Dick wasn’t going to bolt right this second, he walks out towards the bathroom and immediately collides with Wally.

Wally’s still buzzing a little, and the hairs on Roy’s arms stand on end as he’s zapped when Wally grabs his elbows to hold him upright. There’s a deep line between his eyebrows, but when he looks up over Roy’s shoulders at Dick, his face goes slack. This worked out, actually. It’d keep help keep them both occupied to talk out their feelings, until Roy could get back in control of himself.

“Easy, fleetfeet,” Roy says. “Babysit for a second, would you? I need to wash my face.”

“I thought we decided we didn’t want him to run,” Wally hisses back, but Roy just gives him a shove in the couch’s general direction and staggers down the hall.

He hears Wally move forward as he manages to kick the door shut, falling against it as he starts to gasp. Roy presses his head back against the tiles, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately inhaling in through his nose and out his mouth. His throat itches. A throbbing pain starts at his temple, beating with his heart and radiating to his jaw and neck and shoulders until he tenses into a spasm.

In, out. Breathe, hold, release. Roy manages to swallow, but the noise he makes sounds like a sob, and he fumbles with the faucet until he can trust that the water is drowning him out. Again, and he claps a hand over his mouth. Everything feels ready to snap.

He got through it that first time, says a voice in his head. It sounds a lot like Connor’s patient grace. Remember? He’s still here, just the same.

But this is so much worse, Roy replies internally. Can’t you see? Because now he knows it’s not gonna end. It’ll never end.

No. This is too much.

The first time he grabs at his phone, it falls from his trembling fingers and lands on the floor with a crack. It takes him one, two more tries to retrieve it, and instead of standing he folds himself onto the floor, sat pressed against the wall next to the basin. The blue light makes his eyes sting and seeing Lian smiling back just makes that rolling nausea return, thinking of a young Dick Grayson stare at his daughter in wonder. Eight years old, like Dick’s own father hadn’t fallen when Dick was that age. Like Dick had lost a father all over again a decade later. It hurts so bad.

Thankfully, when he swipes through his speed dial, she answers.

“You’re late with an update, boyo.”

For a moment, he can’t even get the words out, just audibly breathes into the receiver with his eyes shut and his free hand twisted into his hair.

“Roy? What happened? Is Dick alright?”

He has to swallow around the lump in his throat again.

“Is Lian there?” Roy manages to get out in a croak. He truly doesn’t know what he’ll do if Mia’s taken her to MOMA or something. Maybe permanently move into Dick’s bathroom. “She free to talk?”

“Sure.” He hears Dinah move and begin to walk. She’s calm, but her steps are quick and loud down the line. “Give me an answer, Roy. If you want to talk to her because you’re bleeding out-“

“No, no,” Roy says. “No, it’s just – it’s been a long day.”

It’s only about twelve pm, but Dinah doesn’t comment on it. He hears a door open, then shut. His heartrate picks up again.

“Dinah,” he says, and he hears her stop. “Dinah.”

She knows, clearly.

“He’s seventeen, Dinah.”

“Yeah, Babs said.” A pause. “Seventeen, huh?”

“He’s…” Roy stops, tugs at his hair a little. “I can’t tell you –he’s been saying-”

“You were all kids. You know that right? The stuff you were doing wasn’t normal, in retrospect. Makes sense he’d freak you out.”

But it’s not just that. It was the casual acceptance of baiting Deathstroke. Dick’s conviction of his own fault about losing Robin. His terror of confronting Bruce. The profound, absolute loss of everything. Dick Grayson lost his father at eight years old.

Roy can’t reply to that, really, so Dinah says:

“Here she is.”

There’s a shuffle, another pause, then –

“Daddy?”

The tension leaves his body so fast he almost drops the phone entirely, and his legs properly unfold into a sprawl.

“Hey, princess.”

“You okay?” Her voice raises in pitch slightly, like when she’s getting nervous. He’d put a lot of effort into stopping her from sounding like that, so it’s jarring now. “Dinah said… Dinah said-“

“I’m fine. Really. I just wanted to check that Mia wasn’t buying you more Legos from the giftshop with my card.”

“They were mermaid Legos,” Lian tells him, worry gone entirely and now a little huffy. “And Mia said – Mia said you were a landlord. And could buy them.”

“Daddy is not a gazillionaire like Batman.”

“Does Batman have Legos in the Batcave?”

Batman has bloodied memorabilia of all the people he’s let down, Roy thinks privately, but says instead:

“No, but he has a dinosaur.”

“A real one?”

“No. It’s like the one’s out of Jurassic Park. A robot dinosaur.”

“A robot dinosaur,” Lian says rapturously. “Can we visit sometime? With Uncle Dick?”

I am never letting either of you near him ever again, is the correct answer, as much as Dick would throw a fit over it. Roy clears his throat, rubs at his eyes, and changes the subject.

“Maybe. But I want a school update. I didn’t get to talk to you about it, yesterday.”

“Well,” she stops, and he can hear her think it over. “I’m better at spelling than Cassidy, because she always forgets her ayches. But I taught her a trick for it. I can teach you too!”

My best friend was only eight, he thinks.

“Yeah, baby,” he says in a hoarse voice, and tilts back his head. “Tell me all about it.”

#this is an unedited snippet from september 2023 so plz no one judge me #roy harper #dick grayson #nightwing #arsenal #donna troy #teen titans #lian harper #persephone tag #fic #batman #dc comics #mart #roy harper is very dear TO ME!!!!!!!!!!

661 notes · View notes

satorusugurugurl · 8 months ago

Note

Hiii i just saw your accidentally hurting during yk what fic 😭😭 I was wondering if you’d maybe be up to writing a sequel? Like what happens after that?

NO PRESSURE OFCCC

you have great writing

Aftermath of JJK Men TQ Accidentally Hurting You During Smexy Time!

Part One

Character: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo

Warnings: Mentions of injuries? Suggestive, Gojo getting picked on, fluffy sweetness!!

Word count: 2,695

A/N: This was so much fun! It practically wrote itself! Thank you Nonnie!!

Gojo Satoru:

“My head hurts!” Gojo complained as he walked back into your room. He tossed you an ice pack before collapsing onto the bed with you. “Maybe we should have stopped what we were doing because I think I have a concussion.”

“You're such a big baby.” You giggled, still naked under the sheets. “It was just forehead bonk.”

“One that could have resulted in a concussion from your thick-ass skull.”

You tossed one of the pillows at him with a smirk. “You're the one at fault, Toru.” He just lay there, sighing dramatically.

“Right, I’m at fault all because I thrust into you.”

“There you go, the keyword ‘you’ all you.”

He stuck his tongue out at you before pulling you into his arms. “I would like to think it was a two-person incident.” You hummed nuzzling his neck.

“Besides, it's not like these things will draw any attention! In the morning, it'll be like this never happened.”

That was the farthest thing from the truth. The following day, both your goose eggs were still there on full display. You were okay with the fate you had been dealt. Satoru was fine, too, until he walked into the first-year's classroom.

“Mornin! I hope you three are ready for a fun-filled day of training!!” The three students glanced at each other before staring at Gojo. When none of them said anything, Satoru stole a glance at you. You had just stopped in to say good morning, and then you were off to the second-year's class.

You were flushed, hands covering your mouth as tears flooded your eyes. Why the hell were you laughing? Was there something on his face? Was his blindfold upside down? Your beautiful laughter was so contagious, spreading to his students. They were trying so hard to keep it together. While Megumi just silently judged his benefactor.

Not being in the loop had Satoru turning to everyone. “What? What's so funny?” The utter confusion in his voice finally had you losing the very little control you had.

“Oh My god!! Oh god!” You laughed out loud, sinking to the ground, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

“What?!”

“What's with the lump under your blindfold?!” itadori cried out as Nobara slapped her desk repeatedly. “Some Charlie the Unicorn cosplay you're testing out?!”

“N-No, it's his third eye-opening!” Nobara added, causing you to wheeze.

“He already has Six-Eyes! That wasn't enough!!”

Megumi slowly pulled His phone out, snapping several pictures of the very confused Gojo. “Wait until the second year to see this.”

Having had enough, Gojo bolted for the bathroom, staring at his reflection. Without his blindfold on, the goose egg wasn't that noticeable. However, due to the tight fabric concealing his eyes, his goose egg was front and center in the middle of his forehead. He robbed at it, slowly smiling when he saw you step inside, face flushed. You were trying so hard not to laugh, but he could see the mischievous gleam In your eye.

He knew you oh so well. “Go on, say what you want to say.” He shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “But Charlie the Unicorn and my third—no seventh eye-opening were golden.”

“I-Is that a goose egg under your blindfold, or are you just happy to see me?!” Laughter echoed off the walls.

Gojo just grinned his signature wide smile. He said nothing as he grabbed you by the collar of your uniform, dragging you back to the classroom. “That was weak! I expected better from my girlfriend.” You laughed even harder, making Gojo turn to smile down at you. He didn't think it was possible, but he fell even more in love with you at that moment.

Geto Suguru:

“Don’t ask Google Home, you freak!” Suguru just eyed you for a long moment. “Sugu—I’m serious!”

“Hey Google!” He shouted out with a smug smirk.

The next thing he knew, you were on top of him. Your hands covered his mouth as you straddled his hips. “You little freak! You seriously think I want PSIA or CIRO to know about how you bit my clit.” You were easily rolled off, Suguru laying on top of you, his hands prying yours away from his mouth.

“Oh, Y/N, I love it when you talk acronyms to me.” He gently kissed your palms. “So sexy, really get my cock throbbing.” You sputtered and looked off as a warm breeze flowed through the room. Suguru grinned against your hand. You were so cute when you pouted like this. “So Google Home is a no-go, what about Reddit?” Sighing in defeat, you nodded, watching your boyfriend type on his phone. “I, twenty-seven male, bit my girlfriend's clit. What should I do to treat it?”

God, you could already hear the cringy TikTok videos using your horror story for views. Luckily, Suguru got the answer: antibacterial soap, warm water, and aspirin.

Suguru left and returned, finding you sitting on the couch, your hand pressing against yourself through your shorts. The sight made him cringe in sympathetic pain. He bit you hard, and he knew it hurt from your scream. If he could take the pain from you, he would. Alas, there was nothing he could do to change it, but he could help ease the pain.

“I got the goods.” He announced, holding up a plastic bag. “Let’s go get ya’ in the shower.”

You stripped out of your clothes, standing naked in the bathroom as Suguru started running the water. Seeing him so attentive like this made you swoon. You truly were lucky to have found someone as kind as him. Suguru made you feel special, like royalty, aside from the whole biting of your clit.

“Alright, there's the soap, unscented per Reddit.” He placed the white bar of soap in your hand. “The fluffiest wash cloth the store had for your perfect pussy.” a fluffy pink cloth was placed in your other hand. “And open your mouth.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” You did as he said, and he held up a bottle of allergy medication. “To ease the sinus’.” He dropped the pill in your mouth before handing you some water. “Because the next time I come home and find you looking delicious in the living room, I don't want you sneezing when I'm going down on you.”

After swallowing the pill, you laughed. “Looked delicious, huh?” Suguru nodded, his hand reaching into his pockets as you entered the shower.

“Delicious, gorgeous, absolutely radiant.” His Words were as warm and comforting as the water running down your body. “It got me thinking about coming home like that every day, to you, with a couple of kids running around.”

Pulling the shower curtain back, you glowered at him. “Geto Suguru, don't you even think about proposing to me after you bit my clit!” Something flickered in his eyes, amusement as he cocked a dark brown in your direction.

“Okay, no impromptu post clit biting proposals.”

“Thank you!” You breathed out a huff through your nostrils. “Now hurry up and come get in with me.”

“Right, let me just put the ice cream away.”

Your head poked out from behind the curtain, eyes glittering joyfully. “Ice cream?!” Suguru walked backward as he headed into your room.

“Of course! I needed to get my girl a treat after I hurt her.” You watched him turn the corner. “Be right back.”

While you did a little happy dance in the shower, Suguru walked into the living room. Getting down on his knees, he wiggled the loose floorboard by the backdoor and pulled the small wood plank up. With a heavy sigh, Suguru reached into his pocket, pulling out the blue velvet box he had slid inside before he had hurt you. He opened it to examine the ring he picked out for you six months ago.

“Oh well, there's always next time.” The disappointment was thick in his voice as he put the box back in its hiding place. With the floorboard secure, Suguru slowly stripped out of his clothes as he headed back to you.

Nanami Kento:

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cried out as Nanami gave you a worried look.

“Hang in there. Ijichi is pulling up.”

The sleek black car pulled up, almost making your dislocated shoulder feel better. It held the promise of relief to come. Ijichi got out, rushing towards the two of you as Nanami ushered you forward.

“I'm sorry it took so long. The traffic was terrible. But as soon as you called, I stopped What I was doing to head straight over.”

Nanami shook his head, grabbing the handle of the backseat. “No, don't apologize, Ijichi. We should be thanking you for taking us to the hospital.” You modded as Nanami slowly opened the door.

“Yeah, Ijichi, I hope you weren't doing anything important. Thank you.”

“Oh, well, I was actually taking Gojo home.”

Nanami promptly slammed the door shut. Staring at the dark void of the window. In the reflection of the tinted glass, Nanami could see the look of horror that washed over your face. This wasn't happening. No way, no way. Having Gojo here was both of your worst nightmares.

You stepped back, nervously laughing. “Ya’ know what! L- Let’s walk to the emergency room!” Seeing the opportunity you made, Nanami followed your lead.

“Yes! It's a beautiful evening for a stroll.” Nanami bends down, leaning into your ear. “Walk.”

“Wait! I-I don't think that's wise! Y/N, you're injured!”

You waved your uninjured hand at Ijichi. “Eh, injured, not injured! Who cares!!” The nervousness was as thick as honey in your voice.

The black window slowly rolled down, leaving you and Nanami frozen. Gojo Satoru poked his head out the window, eyeing the both of you with a wide grin. A grin you knew had a vein in Nanami’s head twitching. Gojo hummed, twirling his finger in your direction.

“Let’s see, wet hair, dislocated shoulder, bite marks galore.”

“It's not what it looks like!” Gojo was unfazed by your interjection, his head tilting to look up at your irritated boyfriend.

“Wet hair, hickies, the pure frustration unfinished ‘business’!” A bark of laughter sounded from the back of his throat. “I don't even need to use Six-Eyes to figure this out. Shower sex gone wrong, Nanamin~?” Nanami looked like he was about to throw a black-flash at Gojo while you blushed a darker shade. “No shame! I could give you some pointers if you want!”

Your mind tried to think of some sarcastic retort, but your thoughts were on hold as you heard the car door open. Slowly blinking, you watched a furious Nanami reaching for Gojo. “K-Kento!” You scrambled forward, grabbing his arm with your noninjured arm. “Don’t kill him!” Gojo was snickering, giving Nanami a shit-eating grin. “Let’s just go! Get in the car!”

Ijichi drove the two (three including Gojo) to the emergency room, where your arm was popped back into place and put into a sling. While Nanami stopped to pick up your prescription at the hospital's pharmacy, he glared at Gojo as he showed you his phone screen. He didn’t know why he insisted on coming with the two of you. The man was persistent, not listening, even when Nanami snapped at him to go away. With your prescription in hand, Nanami quietly headed back. He was trying to listen to your conversation.

“See, this one would probably work for you guys,” Gojo said, tapping his screen. “This way, you won’t slip or dislocate your shoulder, ya’ know?”

“Oooh!” The way your eyes glittered with awe had Nanami’s heart skipping a beat. “Oh my god! That’s awesome!”

“What’s so awesome?” You perked up, glancing up at Nanami.

“Babe! Did you know they make shower sex steps?! It suctions to the wall, and I can prop my foot up!”

Nanami trailed his gaze slowly to his blindfolded colleague, who whistled innocently. “Trying to corrupt my girlfriend?” He asked as he gently helped you stand.

“I’m just a friend looking out for my other friends' relationship! Just one slip doesn’t mean shower sex should be a no-go!”

Nanami shook his head, wrapping his arm tentatively around your waist. “Kento, can we get one? Please! I wanna try it out!” You were bouncing with excitement.

“Let's wait six weeks before that; give you some time to heal.” While you were disappointed, you nodded in agreement. This was time to heal, not to get freaky.

But imagine your surprise six weeks later when Gojo dropped a package on your desk. “Have fun!!” Was all he got out before you were shoving past him, rushing to find Nanami. Things were expected to be wet and wild all night.

Choso Kamo:

You stared at the mirror, evening your nose. Choso had accidentally sucker-punched you two hours ago. Having broken your nose. But what sort of sorcerer would you be if you couldn’t fix that? You easily grabbed it and popped it back into place with a sickening crunch. One that had your boyfriend turning three shades paler than he already was.

Your nose was swollen and a little discolored. You’d be bruised for sure, but you didn’t mind. It was like an unpleasurable hickey—a reminder of the fun you and Choso had.

The broken nose didn’t bother you, but despite countless attempts to ensure Choso it was okay, he still sulked. It was too long after that he said he was leaving for a bit. You figured he just needed some time to get over what had happened.

He had been gone for an hour so far, enough time for you to shower and crawl into the clean sheets you both put on. You had anticipated him to be gone longer, so you whirled towards the bedroom door as he creaked open further.

“Welcome home!” Choso’s heart felt like it was beating a million miles a minute. Your cute smile, the warmth of your voice, everything about you made his stomach flutter; no, butterflies, Yuuji said. You gave him the butterflies. “Where did you run off to?”

“I stopped at the store.” He offered you his hand. “Come with me?”

Choso led you back out to the living room. He motioned to various items: a nose splint, medical tape, and an ice pack. Then, there were all different kinds of snacks and candy, all of which were your favorites.

Your boyfriend never went out to clear his head. No, he went out to get you things to make you feel better. The compassionate gesture made your heart crawl up your throat as lights shimmered over your eyes as they filled with tears. None of your exes had ever done anything remotely sweet. His gesture proved to you how much Choso cared, how sweet he was.

“Oh no, why are you crying?!”

“Cho—”

“I-I’m so sorry! Does your nose hurt? Let’s see!” His warm, frantic eyes grazed over the table. Hands were picking up bottles. “Aspirin, aspirin!”

Your slender fingers gently wrapped around his trembling hand, holding it. “N-No Cho—“ you were too stunned to speak, “baby, this is so thoughtful and sweet. Thank you, no one’s ever done something like this for me before.” The worry on his cute face faded into a more relaxed expression.

“Oh?” You hummed, interlocking your fingers with him. “So I did a good job?” If the man had a tail, you were sure he’d be wagging it.

Choso watched as you stood on your tip toes before petting him on the head. “You did a good job, baby; seriously, you’re the best boyfriend ever.” The wide grin on his face warmed your heart as he excitedly showered you all the things he bought.

He truly was the best boyfriend in the world. You must have done something right in your past life to deserve him. God, he was so precious! You just wanted to chew on his cheeks. But that would have to wait until your nose was healed. For now, you were perfectly content with him putting the nose splint on your face before he snuggled you on the couch.

511 notes · View notes

chaos-in-deepspace · 24 days ago

Text

LADS Sylus: Honey Bourbon | Halloween Special

So a lot of my ideas come from suggestions in a server I'm in on discord, and when I heard someone mentioning where to bite Sylus, I was wheezing. So here we are.

❧ Pairings: Sylus x Reader ❧ Warnings: Suggestive themes, blood sucking, vampire reader ❧ Synopsis: You come home injured after a mission because you became blood starved, and Sylus decides to help you out by offering you some blood. The only catch? He gets to decide where you bite. ❧ Word Count: 3.3k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Sylus

Honey Bourbon

It was almost time for bed, something that Sylus was normally good at when it came to being on time. Adorned in his red and black robe, he showered and lounged in bed with a tablet as he went over a few dealings. Sometimes, she’d be reading a book, and sometimes, he’d find himself content with just cuddling up with you. Today, however, was a strange day. At this time of day, right as the sun was about to rise above the horizon, you’d be here. You had to be here.

Sure, the N109 zone was always shrouded in what seemed to be an eternal night, but you often were in Linkon during the night. A Linkon City Hunter, one who only worked the night shift due to your unique situation. Truth be told, Sylus hadn’t anticipated you being a vampire when he first laid eyes on you. You were the person he had been searching for, but finding you with a curse of eternal life wasn’t something he had ever thought would happen.

The curse of the sun was also something he didn’t expect you to have, but he didn’t hate it. It meant you two would go to sleep at the same time, so there was no need to make adjustments to your schedules to spend time together. It was an ideal situation, in essence.

However, it did lead to the now. Mainly as Sylus looked at the time, knowing Linkon’s sun would soon be up. He was accustomed to you messaging him when you were going to be running late, but today, he hadn’t gotten a single message from you. If he didn’t know how capable you were, he might’ve been worried. Instead, he was just…he didn’t know how he felt. He just wanted you here, in bed with him, going to sleep.

Then he finally saw you walk into the room, your hunter’s uniform disheveled and some fresh blood painted onto it. Sylus knew as well as anyone else that wanderers didn’t bleed, and he knew that you technically could, but he had never seen it.

“Darling, what happened?” Sylus asked, adjusting his position in bed. He didn’t bother getting up, not when he could see you still walking without a limp. If anything, your injuries were likely minor. He could see a few cuts on your legs, but it wasn’t anything too severe.

“It was just a particularly nasty wanderer, that’s all,” you assured him, flashing him a small grin that you hoped would be reassuring. It didn’t do anything to quell your boyfriend’s worry, though, because his eyes were now furrowed. He didn’t like it when you were lying to him like you were right now.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you injured; it’s either you fought the strongest wanderer Linkon City has ever come across, or you were careless. Which one was it?” Sylus asked, waiting for you to come up with an excuse.

Sadly, you were currently too exhausted to try and come up with another one, “I’m just in a weakened state right now; don’t worry about it,” You said with a yawn, covering your mouth. You really wanted to just crash into bed and sleep for a solid week at the moment. Sadly, you wouldn’t be able to stop the questions that Sylus had for you right now.

“I think that’s just the thing your partner should be worried about.” Sylus said, “Come here, tell me why you’re weakened right now,” he said, motioning you to come closer to him. You sighed, deciding to just approach the bed and stand at the edge where Sylus was. He hadn’t gotten up yet, which was a miracle in itself. He must’ve been just as exhausted as you were if he wasn’t coming over to you and making you undress so he could check every inch of you for injuries.

“I haven’t had anything to drink in a while,” you knew this was going to put you down a rabbit hole you really didn’t want to deal with, but there was no way he was just going to let things stand as is right now.

Sylus was silent for a few moments as if trying to comprehend what you were saying, “Sweetie, I know for a fact we have plenty of blood bags for you in the fridge. Why aren’t you drinking those?” he asked, making you heave a sigh. Here was the conversation you were wanting to avoid at all costs. The one where you knew would make him worry and probably find a solution that you really didn’t want.

“The bags of blood have chemicals in them, so they don’t coagulate.” You began, “Not only do they taste disgusting, but it can also make me a bit…sick in a sense.” As a vampire, nausea wasn’t a thing that happened often. You didn’t get sick as normal people did, but drinking things other than blood could do the trick, “It’s fine for the most part since there’s not a lot in there, but over time it builds up.” You explained it to him, and now Sylus was truly worried.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? If I had known the blood bags weren’t good for you, I could’ve just drawn blood fresh for you.” He said, watching as you sat down at the edge of the bed. Your muscles were aching right now, and you didn’t feel like standing at the moment because of how dizzy you felt. You were grateful your injuries were seen by your superior as she was coming in for work, and you were basically told to take a few days off to recover.

“Well I…I dunno…” you trailed off. You didn’t exactly want to force Sylus to do anything like draw his own blood just for you, “If I go without for a week or two, it clears up, then I can drink from bags again. I just get a bit weaker than normal when that happens.” Sylus knew you normally drank every three days, so going two weeks was definitely pushing it.

“Has your solution always been to starve yourself?” he had a bit of an irritated edge to him, not happy that you’d be willing to do something like this to yourself, “Sweetie, in your line of work, you can’t afford to be in a weakened state. You could get injured worse than you were today.” his tone now gentler as he said this.

You didn’t know what to say to this, so you instead opted to look away. You knew he was right about this, knew you shouldn’t be doing this to yourself, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t drink from humans since you literally swore to protect them, especially after the Chronorift Catastrophe that happened a few years back. Blood bags had been your solution since they were basically invented, and starving yourself when it got too much was also a solution you had for centuries.

“How about this,” Sylus began, “Whenever you need a…tolerance break, you can drink from me.” He said, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck. You blinked owlishly for a few moments before immediately going to reject the idea.

“Sylus, remember, thrall situation?” you asked him, raising your eyebrow. You two had been over this before, the one time he asked if you’d be willing to drink from him. You had explained so thoroughly that you would make him into a temporary thrall if you did so and how you disliked it since, in that state, he wouldn’t be able to consent to things you might ask him to do.

“I’m certain I’ll be fine,” Sylus said, trying to reassure you about it. You only looked over at him, your expression essentially deadpan, before rolling your eyes and looking away. You were too tired and too sore to have this conversation. Last time, he dropped it as soon as you said you were uncomfortable with the idea, and he hasn’t brought it up since. His bringing it up months later was…you weren’t mad about it, but you certainly weren’t thrilled.

“Ya, I’m sure you would, Sy. You’d be the one person on this entire planet who would be completely unaffected by this.” You said with a huff, “You realize if I did, you’d be more doting, always having to check in on me, not wanting to leave my side, etcetera?” You tried reminding him of all the side effects you didn’t want him to have to experience.

“And that’s any different from now?” he asked with an almost smug smirk, “Don’t I already dote on you, worry about you, and do virtually anything you ask me?” you paused at his statement. He wasn’t wrong. He basically already acted like a thrall, but you guess that’s what loving somebody could do to a man. He was just so perfect all the time, always there for you; you wondered what you did during your entire existence to end up with someone as caring as he was. Despite all the harsh edges everyone else saw, you got to see the sweet side of him on a daily basis.

You took a moment, pausing as you thought about all of this, then sighed, “It’s different; you do that of your own free will. If you’re a thrall, it’ll be something you’re compelled to do. You won’t have a choice. If I say jump, you’d do it without question. Like a fog going over your mind as you do anything I say.”

“A small, temporary setback; who’s to say it’ll even last long, though?” Sylus recalled you telling him that it generally would last about a week when someone began enthralled by you biting them, “It’d a venom in you that causes it, correct?”

“That would be correct.” You said, nodding your head.

“And I heal fast, correct?” He said, and you were getting where he was coming from. He did heal abnormally fast. A gunshot to the chest could heal in a matter of seconds if he wanted it to. Expelling a venom from his body might be under the same category. You looked at him with a scowl, knowing he might actually be right on this one. If it was, well, your life just got a lot easier, but you two wouldn’t know for certain unless you actually bit him.

You heaved a sigh, knowing that if you continued to argue, it would be even longer until you’d have a chance to sleep. “Come here, drink,” Sylus said, and you felt his evol wrapped around you now. You let out a yelp at the feeling, suddenly being placed on his lap as you straddled him.

You gave him a harsh smack on the chest for that one, “Sy, you need to give me a warning.” You were scolding him now before remembering your current situation, “And I need to clean off; I’m still dirty from work, and now I’m getting you dirty.”

“I’ll need to clean off after you drink from me, so we can just take a bath together.” He said, his hands now squeezing your thighs, “Now, are you going to keep complaining, or are you going to enjoy your meal so we can both head to bed?”

“Ugh, fine,” you muttered and looked at him, “Where would you like me to bite you?” you asked, looking at his neck. It was exposed, and there had been many times you were cuddling in bed with him, just thinking about what it would be like to sink your fangs into it. His natural scent was always intoxicating to you, always drawing you in. There were times you were even drooling a little bit when pressed against him, but you always held yourself back.

“Isn’t the neck the most traditional place?” Sylus asked as he raised an eyebrow, “I’d assume you’d be drinking from there unless there were other options I didn’t know about.”

In truth, you could bite him anywhere; the venom in your fangs did a lot of things. Cause your victim to feel a sense of euphoria instead of pain after the initial bite, making them your thrall and thinning out their blood. All things that vampire had developed to make their survival easier. “It is…” you finally said after a look of conflict went over you. You could’ve told him, but you don’t think that would be the best idea, “It’s…fine. I’ll bite your neck; it’s whatever.”

“Wait a moment,” Sylus said as he watched you lean forward, “If there’s a choice, then I have somewhere in mind.” Now, your curiosity peaked as he shifted underneath you. He let part of his robe fall and then pointed at his chest, right where his heart would be, “Right here,”

If you had fresh blood in you, your cheeks would’ve been tinged a bright red at the moment as you looked at him with wide eyes, your jaw literally dropping, “Ain’t no way I’m breastfeeding from you, Sy,” you protested, causing the man to laugh, the rumble of his chest vibrating you a little with how close you were to him. “H-hey, it’s not funny!”

“You were the one who gave me the option, and I chose here,” he said, tapping the area again. You looked down at him, then quickly averted your eyes. There was no way you’d be able to calmly do that. Your thoughts already went to the gutter whenever you saw him without a shirt on; hell, even with a shirt on, it was hard to look away. Seeing him boxing and the bouncing on his heels made a sense of primal need course through you; the way his pecs literally bounced had you questioning your entire life.

“I’m taking the ability to choose back. Clearly, you aren’t good at making life decisions.” You continued to protest, feeling like you were about five seconds from exploding from the embarrassment of it all.

“Well, I thought you might enjoy it, with how often you stare at them,” he continued his relentless teasing, and you groaned and looked back at him. So he had noticed your staring, not that it was easy to hide. It would’ve been obvious with even sunglasses since you’d be so close to them just to watch them jiggle.

You decided there was really no getting out of this one and leaned closer to Sylus with a heavy sigh. Your lips brushed against his chest as you let your fangs come out, grazing them against the exposed flesh there. Sylus shivered at the sensation, letting out a small, subtle groan as you did so. “There we go, my little bat,” Sylus said, watching as you looked for the best place to sink your teeth into.

Once you found it, you pressed a kiss there; then finally, you allowed yourself to bite him. Sylus flinched from the pinch of your canines going into his skin, but it was soon replaced with a full-body euphoria that had him sighing contently under you. His body was going a bit slack as he watched you lapping at the blood that began trickling out of the open wound now. The angle was awkward for you as you couldn’t get a good suction, so you opted to just lap with your tongue, drinking in the blood as it began coming out a bit faster due to the blood thinning effect.

It was forcing you to go slower than you were used to, which would work in your favor. You didn’t have to worry about draining and killing Sylus on accident like this as you continued drinking, now closing your eyes as the taste of him exploded on your tongue. He was everything you had imagined he’d taste like, a subtle sweetness like honey but an edge with bourbon mixed in there.

“You really are like a kitten…” Sylus said, watching you lap up the blood on his chest like a kitten drinking milk. You couldn’t stop from glaring up at him, your eyes narrowed and eyebrows pinched in frustration. If he didn’t taste so damn good, you would’ve stopped drinking by now to yell at him for calling you that. If anything, he was your kitten, and he curled up on top of you at night when you went to sleep. Sylus could see the look of conflict on your face as he leaned down to leave a small kiss on your forehead, “Keep going,” he murmured against you.

Sylus brushed your hair back, making sure it was out of your face and not mingling with the sticky mess that was now on his chest. You let out a content moan as you continued drinking until you decided it was enough. You were satisfied to an extent, but if you were honest, you could probably drink every last drop of his blood and still be wanting more of him.

As soon as you were done, your tongue began licking right over the puncture wounds, watching as they closed up until little marks were left in their wake. “Well, that’s handy…” Sylus said, not knowing you could do that. You looked up at him with a happy grin plastered on your face, leaning away from him and letting out a content sigh.

“Thanks for the meal,” you said, going to wipe your mouth on your sleeve. You're not worried about getting more blood on it since the outfit was now ruined. As soon as Sylus saw the motion, he was grasping your wrist.

You gasped as he pulled you forward, his lips crashing into your own in a heated kiss. He groaned into your mouth, tasting the copper of his blood on you as some of it transfered onto his chin and lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from closing your eyes, savoring the brush of his tongue against your own. You didn’t even realize your fangs were still out until he pushed his tongue against it, now bleeding from there as the delicious taste filtered into your mouth. You groaned but knew you had to stop; he knew he needed some time to recover from the blood loss as you reluctantly dragged yourself away from his mouth.

“Tell me, how do I taste to you?” Sylus asked, pressing his forehead against your own now. You gave him a wobbly smile as you blinked, trying to come back down to earth after he tried to take your breath away. With his blood in your body now, a blush was finally settled in on your cheeks.

“Like honey bourbon.” You told him, causing Sylus to chuckle. You knew the taste very well, whiskey kisses were commonly shared between you two. While Sylus never drank to the point of being drunk, he didn’t mind a buzz now and then. Kissing him after having some whiskey, or even wine, was always a treat for you.

“I can think of worse things to taste like,” Sylus said, letting you lean back. The two of you were complete messes at the moment, and you’d be needing to clean both of you, but it seemed like Sylus already had other plans, “Now come on, let’s get to the bathroom. I think a nice shower is long since due.” He said, cupping your thighs from underneath you. It had you falling forward onto him as he stood up, carrying you.

“W-wait, shouldn’t I be the one taking care of you…and aren’t you woozy from the blood loss?” you asked, grabbing onto his shoulders.

Sylus chuckled as he looked at you, “I’m not dizzy enough to drop you if that’s your concern.” He said, making you huff as you looked him over, making sure he was telling the truth.

“It’s not my concern…” you muttered, “And again, I should be taking care of you right now.”

“You can wash my back then, sweetie,” he said, already opening the door to the joining master bathroom, making sure there was no room for arguments.

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Sylus Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Sylus #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #Sylus x reader #l&ds #l&ds Sylus #l&ds Sylus x reader #lads x reader #lads Sylus #lads Sylus x reader

208 notes · View notes

angelwings-crossbowstrings · 2 months ago

Text

Whumptober 2024 No. 1

Prompt: Panic Attack

Warnings: Mentions of torture; anxiety attack

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

It happened so fast.

One moment, you were in the kitchen, preparing dinner—a stew of venison and vegetables. The next, you were crouched in front of Daryl, whispering words of encouragement while he tried to catch his breath.

Tara hadn’t meant any harm. Over for dinner, she had been rummaging through a box of records—a bonus from a recent run that had gone smoothly. The record player and vinyls had been the reward you had bestowed upon yourselves when you had extra time due to the lack of walkers to dispatch.

First, to Daryl’s utter joy—expressed by a grunt and appreciative nod—she had chosen Johnny Cash, allowing the record to play through in its entirety before deciding to try her luck with a random choice. The moment the song began, you knew—even before the sound of Daryl’s knife and whetstone clattering on the floor—what would come of it.

We’re on easy street

“Tara, no!” The spoon you had been using to stir was abandoned somewhere in the kitchen to be found later. Your steps were hurried, finding Daryl with his back pressed against the wall, eyes wide and shining, unseeing. “Daryl. Baby.”

“What’s—I didn’t—” Tara stammered from across the room, her hands flailing uselessly. You waved her off, somewhat urgently.

“Just turn it off.” Your focus was centered on the man in front of you, his face pale, breaths quick and shallow. “Hey. Hey, you’re okay.”

“Can’t—can’t breathe.” He gasped, a hand coming up to lay against his throat, the other palm flat against his chest. “Don’t—I can’t—”

“You’re not there, Daryl. You’re here. With me.” You yearned to touch him, to ground and comfort him, but knew that he would only flinch away, lost in the torment of those days trapped and tortured at the Sanctuary. “You’re safe.”

“Ain’t—” His breaths were sobbing rushes of air that he thought he couldn’t capture. He was pale, his skin glistening with perspiration. “Y/N—”

“I’m right here.” You followed him as he slid down the wall, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Breathe, Daryl.”

“Can’t—I can’t—”

“You can.” You replied, encouragement outlining each syllable. “Do it like me.” Your gaze honed in on the flutter of his pulse beneath the skin of his neck, too fast. If you didn’t help him gain control, he would pass out. He would be mortified by the display of weakness, an entirely new issue but not a surprising one. Still, if it could be avoided, that would be ideal. “Like me, Daryl.”

He finally dropped his hands, swaying where he sat as his gaze locked onto yours. He blinked hard, attempting to focus. You drew in a deep breath and held it before exhaling, slowly for but a few seconds more. Daryl gasped and hiccuped, trying to imitate your efforts with intense struggle.

“I’m going to touch you, okay?” You said, simultaneously reaching for him. With a gentle but firm hold on his wrist, you placed his palm against your chest and continued your breathing techniques. “There we go.” You whispered. The redness coloring his skin was receding, the strained tendons in his neck beginning to relax. He was wheezing but each hiccuping breath appeared to come easier than the one that preceded it.

While you continued your gentle coaxing, you glanced at Tara from the corner of your eye and thanked every deity you could possibly recall that she noticed and grabbed her coat on her way out. You didn’t want her to dwell on guilt. You would talk to her later.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” You could have cried when Daryl finally dragged in a deep breath, the fog that had clouded his eyes mercifully receding. He said nothing while all but collapsing toward you, his forehead meeting your shoulder roughly. “You’re okay.” His willingness to lean against you was all the permission you needed to fold your arms around him. One hand cradled the back of his head while the other rubbed circles over his back.

“M’sorry.” It was barely a whisper around breaths that still seemed too fast but came without struggle.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Daryl Dixon.” He tensed beneath your touch but for a mere heartbeat. “What you went through was not just cruel. It was barbaric.” You held him tighter and felt his right arm encircle your lower back. “But you survived. You came back to me. You’re here and you’re safe.” Nuzzling your cheek against his hair, you pressed a kiss against the spot right above his ear. He had yet to pull away and buried his face against the junction of your shoulder.

“Ain’t none’a us safe.” He mumbled, the words muted. He was right, of course. The world that existed didn’t offer safety or security. All you had known since the turn had been running, surviving. Still—

“We have each other, Daryl.” You pulled back, willing him to meet your eyes. It was a struggle for him. He loathed any display of what he thought was weakness, of what was truly just humanity. His gaze was searching, a hint of sadness outlined with something akin to hope. “Isn’t that enough?” You offered. You brought a hand to his cheek, your thumb wiping away moisture there. Sweat or tears, who knew?

After a moment, he sniffed and cleared his throat, his hand coming up to cover yours.

“Yeah.” He said. “Yeah. S’more than enough.”

#whumptober2024 #no.1 #panic attack #the walking dead #fic #tw torture #murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

166 notes · View notes

alwaysanundertone · 3 months ago

Text

Balance is key | Regulus Black x fem! reader

Regulus Black x clumsy fem! reader who has a crush on him

fluff

word count: 1.1 k words

part 1, part 2

Saturday came, and you had never felt more stressed in your life.

Lily sat on your bed, chuckling lightly. “Evans, you’re not helping me, you know? What do I wear?” In your arms you held three different sundresses. “What if I’m overdressed? And it’s so late, I have to be there by noon!”

“Y/N, please, it’s eight a.m.. You still have four hours, and you just have to choose an outfit and shower”

“Oh, my, God, I only have four hours? What do you mean I have four hours? I’m showing up to my first date with the love of my life looking like a troll? I’m so, so fucked, Regulus is never going to like me!”

She held your shoulders in her hands. “First of all, you will be ready in two hours maximum. Second of all, Regulus asked you out on a date, not the other way around, so I think he’s as nervous as you. You are gorgeous, please stop stressing, you’re giving me a headache, okay?” You nodded. “Now, for the outfit: it’s a picnic, so I think the sundress would look great, what about this one?” She picked up the one dress you forgot about, the pink one with little daisies drawn all over, which happened to be the best dress you got.

“You are an angel, you know that?” She chuckled. “Yeah, yeah now go change”

You sat near the Black Lake, stressing. You didn’t know if Regulus wanted to pick you up from your dorm, so you just thought it would be best to wait for him there. Except, you didn’t know if you were in the right place, given the fact that the lake had so many different picnic spots, you just prayed that Regulus thought of the same spot as you.

Now that you were thinking about it, it would have been better to wait for him outside of his dorm, but then you would have looked like a stalker. What if he didn’t find you? Or worse, what if he offered a date out of pity, and now he wasn’t going to show up? It was a quarter past noon, and he was nowhere to be seen.

As you were about to get up, you saw a dishevelled Regulus running in your direction, a picnic basket in his hand and a bouquet on the other, making you take a breath of relief. “Y/N! I went to your dorm” He paused, taking a deep breath. “And asked for you” Now he sounded like he was struggling to breath.

“Oh my God, please take a seat before you-“ As you were about to stand, you stepped over your dress, making you fall face first on the ground. “Hmpf” You exchanged a look with Regulus, and then you both started wheezing.

“What” A fit of giggle interrupted you. “What a disastrous start”

Regulus was now clenching his belly. It was kind of a vision seeing him like this, given the fact that you’ve never heard him laugh properly, only chuckle, and the fact that you were the one to see him like this made you feel butterflies in your belly.

After you calmed down, he sat next to you. “I was trying to say that I went to your dorm, but you were nowhere to be found. I thought it was obvious that I was going to pick you up. Anyways, fortunately I saw James, who told me that you were so stressed, you decided to come here by yourself. It was noon when I found this out, so I decided to just sprint to the lake, why did you choose this spot anyways? It’s a miracle I found you, it’s so isolated”

You found his rambling a bit confusing, but most of all cute. “I thought you were going to be waiting here for me, and I didn’t want to make you feel like I stood you up. Only when I sat here I realized that this might not be the best idea I’ve ever had”

He chuckled. “Let’s say I should have told you that we were coming here together. Here are your flowers” You blushed, and when you took a proper look, squealed. “Pink tulips!? They are my favourite; how did you know?” You hugged them to your chest.

“I asked Sirius, of course, who asked James, who asked Lily. Glad you like them” This made you blush so hard, you knew Regulus must have noticed: and he did. “You’re so cute when you get this flustered, you know?” He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, not helping you at all.

As you were about to cover your face with your hands, you accidentally hit his nose.

“Oh, my God I’m so sorry, why do I have to be this clumsy? Let me just kiss it better” As you put your lips on his nose, you cringed internally: you were making a fool of yourself, again.

There was a moment in which you both looked at eachother, you were waiting for his reaction wide-eyed. “Now, love, does that mean that I have to get punched in the face to have you kissing my lips, or is this date sufficient?”

“What- I…” Your brain wasn’t cooperating, but who could have blamed you? Your all time crush was hinting that he wanted to kiss you. “Do you want to kiss? Because I would love to kiss you. Oh, shit, why do I have to make everything so weird- and why did I tell you this? It was supposed to stay in my head! Honestly, I would be embarrassed to date me-“ He interrupted you by kissing your lips softly, making you melt right into his touch. He slowly licked your lower lip, sinfully, making you gasp: truth was, this was your first kiss, and you were kind of lost.

You pondered for a minute whether you had to inform him or not, but as the kiss went on, you progressively panicked. “Sorry Reg, this was my first kiss”

He didn’t look surprised, which made you even more self-conscious. “Love, I know that. Just relax and let me do the work, mh-mh? And don’t go shy on me now, it’s a normal thing to not have kissed anyone else at eighteen, the fact that you chose to me to be your first is doing wonders to my ego”

He cradled your head once again, kissing you softly, this time you followed his lead, you felt his smile against your lips.

At the end of the day, your clumsiness wasn’t that bad.

TAGS: @call-me-mishi

#regulus x reader #regulus black #regulus black x reader #harry potter imagine #regulus fluff #first date imagine #kiss #marauders

210 notes · View notes

fatecantstopme · 10 months ago

Text

Take Your Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: What happens after you lose the love of your life?

Warnings: character death, a lot of talk about death, grieving, childbirth, single parenting, cursing, use of pet names, mentions of smut/implied smut.

A/N: This is insanely long and some parts are painfully sad, but it's a beautiful story of love and family that persists even beyond the grave. There's a lot of POV switching between Dean and reader. I hope you love it as much as I do.

“The two of you are like rabbits,” Sam groaned. “I swear you could hear it outside the bunker.”

Dean laughed heartily. “It’s not my fault she’s so damn hot.”

You blushed and buried your face in your hands. “Sorry, Sammy. We’ll try to keep it down.”

“I’ve lost the ability to pretend I didn’t hear you two.”

You laughed. “What can I say? He’s good at what he does.”

“Ughhhh,” Sam groaned as he left the kitchen.

You leaned into Dean with a smile. “Maybe we should try to keep it down, for Sam’s sake.”

Dean seemed to contemplate it for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah, babe. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve some enjoyment—celebration, even. We beat Chuck, Jack’s in charge, there seems to be less monsters running around…and somehow we’re still alive to see it.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.”

“Plus,” Dean leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “my wife is the sexiest woman on earth. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”

You laughed warmly and playfully smacked his arm. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grinned. “But you love me.”

You smiled as you leaned up to kiss him. “Very much.”

**********

“It’s kinda nice to be on a regular old monster hunt,” Dean said with a smile.

“Is it weird that I’ve missed this?” you asked.

“Definitely not. I’ve missed it too,” Sam responded.

“Vampires,” Dean mumbled. “I do love killing vampires.”

You chuckled lightly and rolled your eyes.

The three of you grabbed your machetes and headed towards the barn. You knew this was where the vamps were bedding down, but you weren’t sure how many of them were there.

Dean shot you a grin before busting in the barn door, shocking several vampires into action. Dean let out a weird holler of excitement and dove into the fray. You and Sam exchanged glances before jumping in.

Everything was going well. It was a pretty easy hunt, to be honest. You’d just beheaded the last one when you heard Sam yell your name from behind you.

You could hear the terror in his voice and when you spun around, you came face to face with your greatest fear.

“Dean!” You screamed as you ran across the barn. You grabbed his face when you reached him, tears already streaming down both of your faces. “No…” you whispered.

He coughed and wheezed softly. You could see the piece of metal sticking out of his chest and you knew he was dying. You’d always known the life was dangerous—that any of you could die young, but things were finally good. You thought you’d actually get to grow old together.

Sam stood beside you, just as devastated as you were. “Dean, please…”

“It’s okay Sammy. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

You inhaled sharply, tears blurring your vision. “Please don’t go,” you begged. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so damn sorry,” he whispered. “But you’re gonna be okay—you’re gonna be fine.”

You shook your head rapidly.

“Yes you are, sweetheart. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re gonna mourn, but you’re gonna keep going. You’re not the kind of woman to ever give up, so don’t start now.”

You stared at him, letting his words wash over you, knowing they would be some of his last.

“Take care of each other,” Dean said to both of you.

“We will,” Sam responded, emotion clouding his voice.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

You whimpered softly before standing on your toes to kiss him gently. “I love you too, Dean. Always.”

He smiled, but you could see the light fading from his eyes. “One more thing, baby.”

“Yes?”

“‘Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it a while.’”

You let out a breathy chuckle. He would never admit it, but The Princess Bride was one of his favorite movies. He’d always loved that line in particular and he’d said it to you on your wedding day instead of “till death do us part”.

“Wait for me,” you whispered, caressing his cheek affectionately.

He reached out a hand and brushed the tears from your cheek. “Take your time,” he said so softly you almost didn’t hear.

You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see the moment he died—you couldn’t bear it. When his hand slipped from your face and you heard Sam let out a pained sob, you knew he was gone.

You finally looked up, and the tears began to fall in earnest. You’d never felt a pain like this before—not even when he’d died in the past. This time was different. This time was final. Dean was dead—and a large piece of your heart went with him.

**********

Dean’s POV:

I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to get my bearings. I was surprised by how bright it was--I was pretty certain it had been night only moments ago.

"Hey Dean," a familiar voice said from behind me.

I spun around with a smile on my face and immediately embraced the man in front of me. "Bobby!"

Bobby returned my hug. "It's good to see you, kid."

Seeing Bobby made me realize where I was and the smiled slipped from my face.

He patted me gently on the shoulder. "Yeah, it's tough at first."

"(Y/N/N) and Sammy..." I whispered. "I left them."

Bobby nodded sadly. "I know, kid, I know. It's gonna hurt for a while, but they're both tough people. They'll be okay."

Tears blurred my vision at the thought of my wife and little brother mourning my death. I hated the idea of leaving them all alone, especially (Y/N). I knew Sammy would be okay--he always was. But (Y/N)? I'd made her a promise--I promised her forever. Then I went and got myself killed...leaving her to put the pieces of her life back together--a life we were supposed to share.

"I'm worried about (Y/N/N)," I whispered. "I can't stand the idea of her being alone. And the not knowing how she is? That might kill me--figuratively, I guess."

"I know the feeling, but I do have some good news for you. Things are obviously different up here, thanks entirely to Jack."

Bobby gestured to a building off in the distance and I realized it was the Roadhouse.

"A lot of us hang out here together--Ellen, Jo, Ash, Charlie, Pamela," Bobby said. "Also, we now have a new option--the ability to check in on the people we left behind. It's how I knew you'd be coming here."

"Wait--I can check in on (Y/N)? And Sam? Like I can see them?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, anytime you want. The only thing is, time moves differently up here, so you'll probably only catch glimpses of their lives over time."

"I'll take anything at this point. How do I do it?"

"You just picture the person clearly in your mind and you'll be able to see and hear what's happening in their lives at that moment. Plus, if they call out to you--like a prayer--you'll hear them."

"So all I have to do is picture (Y/N/N) and I'll see her?"

Bobby nodded. "Just remember, you're not gonna see the moment you left...it's probably been a couple weeks at this point."

I nodded. "I wanna see her."

Bobby patted my shoulder again. "Take your time. I'll be in the Roadhouse. Come on in when you're done--I'm sure there's a few people who wanna see you."

"Thanks, Bobby."

I watched him walk away for a few moments before taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I pictured my wife's beautiful face in my mind with everything I had. Within moments, I was transported to a room I knew very well--our bedroom in the bunker.

(Y/N) was laying on our bed, wearing her favorite flannel of mine, and clutching a pillow close to her chest. I could tell she'd been crying for some time and it broke my heart.

There was a knock at the door and Sam's voice called out to her, asking if she was okay.

"I'm alright, Sammy," she answered softly.

"Do you want dinner?"

She sniffled softly. "I'm not really hungry, but thank you."

I heard Sam sigh quietly. "Okay, let me know if you change your mind."

I turned my attention back to (Y/N) just as she rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to do this without you," she whispered. "I thought we'd have more time."

I could feel the tears stinging my own eyes as I watched her cry softly.

"You promised me, Dean. You promised me forever," she whimpered. "I shouldn't be angry with you--it's not like you left me on purpose. But I can't help it, Dean. I'm so angry, and bitter, and heartbroken, and so...alone."

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she finished talking, her words cutting into me like a knife.

"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered, wishing like hell she could hear me. I just wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. I needed everything to be okay--I needed her to be okay.

She sighed quietly, bringing my attention back to her. "I just love you so much, Dean, and I--I miss you." She inhaled deeply before continuing. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I want you to know I'll be okay. It'll take some time, and I'll never stop missing you, but I will be okay."

I didn't realize how badly I'd needed to hear her say those words. My heart still ached, but her words helped heal it just a little. "I love you so much, beautiful--always."

She smiled up at the ceiling as if she'd heard me, but I knew that was impossible. She pressed her hand to her lips and blew a kiss towards the ceiling.

I smiled as I blew one back. She'd always blown me kisses when I was alive and I was glad she was continuing the habit.

I watched her curl back up on her side and sigh softly as she pulled the pillow close to her. I stayed just long enough for her to fall asleep before closing my eyes and returning to heaven.

**********

"SAM!" you screamed loudly. "SAMMY!"

You heard his loud footsteps echoing down the bunker hallway as he raced towards you. He appeared in your doorway slightly out of breath and more than a little terrified.

"Are you okay? What happened?" he asked breathlessly.

Your hands were shaking as you held up the item in your hand.

Sam looked at it in confusion. As you watched, you saw the realization dawn on him and he gasped.

"Wait, (Y/N)--are you--are you pregnant?"

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks. "This is the third one I've taken...they all came up positive."

"Oh my god," Sam mumbled. "You're gonna have a baby."

You stared at him in mild terror. "I'm gonna have a baby," you confirmed.

Sam stared at you, clearly unsure what he should do. After a few moments, he grabbed you and held you tightly. You leaned into his hug, more grateful than ever to have him in your life.

"We should take you to see a doctor. I'm sure Eileen would come too."

You nodded against his chest, the tears on your cheeks wiping off on his shirt.

"We're gonna help you, (Y/N). You won't be going through this alone. I promise."

You stepped back and offered him a small smile. "Thank you, Sammy."

**********

Dean's POV:

It had been a couple days since I'd last checked on (Y/N), so I decided to take a little time to myself to pay her a visit.

I closed my eyes, envisioning (Y/N/N)'s face clearly in my mind. When I opened my eyes again, I saw (Y/N) sitting in the bunker library, reading a book.

Her back was to me, so I moved closer to see over her shoulder, trying to see what she was reading. I expected it to be one of the novels she was always reading, but this appeared to be one of those self-help books. She wasn't the type of person to read self-help books, so I was pretty surprised.

Before I could move around to see her from the front, Sam came into the room carrying an absurd amount of food. I looked at the food on one of the plates and even I had to admit it looked gross. Some sort of burger, but with what appeared to be greek yogurt on it...and mustard?

Sam sat the plate down in front of (Y/N) and she clapped her hands in delight. "Looks delicious!"

Sam looked at her with a slightly grossed-out look on his face and chuckled lightly. "I felt disgusting making it and I don't think I can watch you eat it," he teased.

She laughed and took a big bite of the sandwich, a groan of pleasure slipping from her lips. "Oh my god, that's so good."

Sam laughed heartily. "These pregnancy cravings are nasty."

She giggled, but I missed her response because I was too focused on what Sam had just said...pregnancy cravings? I looked at the book (Y/N) had sat on the table beside her and saw the title "Parenting 101".

I finally got a good look at my wife and noticed her round belly and I nearly passed out--if I could even pass out. I thought I was about to hyperventilate and my shock must have pushed me out of my trance--sending me straight back to heaven.

I nearly ran--okay, I did run--all the way to the Roadhouse, bursting in the door, out of breath and panicky.

"Hey easy there, kiddo," Ellen said as she stepped forward to check on me.

"(Y/N)'s pregnant," I practically yelled, shocking every person in the room.

Bobby looked up at me from the beer he was drinking with a look of shock on his face. Ellen had been patting my back, but now she was frozen in place.

"Is it--I mean, could it be yours?" Ellen asked gently.

"I--I don't know," I mumbled. "I have no idea how long I've been dead."

"Ash!" Ellen yelled.

The man in question appeared almost instantly. "Yo!"

"How long has Dean been dead?"

"Uhhh...hold on." Ash started typing away on his laptop. Two minutes later he answered, "A little over six months."

Bobby had gotten up from his seat and came over to help Ellen escort me to a chair. "Have a seat, son. Just breathe."

"Looks like you're gonna be a father," Ellen said gently.

"I'm--how--I--" words were not coming to me easily. I didn't know how to feel or what to think--all I knew was my wife was pregnant and I wasn't there to support her.

The more I thought about it, the sadder I became. I wouldn't be there for the birth, wouldn't get to hold (Y/N)'s hand through it all...I would never meet my child. My wife was all alone, doomed to the life of a single parent all because I was careless enough to die too soon.

"At least she has Sam," I whispered lowly.

Ellen was rubbing comforting circles on my back and Bobby squeezed my shoulder.

"I need to talk to her," I said suddenly. "How can I talk to her?"

Bobby shook his head. "You can't, Dean. I'm sorry, but that's just not possible."

Tears stung my eyes and I stood up abruptly. "I think I just need to be alone," I mumbled.

I could feel several pairs of eyes on my back as I left the Roadhouse and began to mindlessly wander, unsure of where I was going, but certain there was a destination.

**********

"You can do it, (Y/N). Just breathe," Sam said calmly.

"You tell me to breathe one more time, Winchester, and I'll kill you," you hissed.

Eileen looked up at Sam with a small smirk. "I think she's serious," she said.

Sam quickly signed 'I'm just trying to help.'

Eileen chuckled. 'Why don't you go get something to eat. I think that would be helpful.'

You let out a groan of pain and Sam's eyes widened. "Okay...I'll go do that."

Eileen shook her head and moved forward to grab your hand. "Men," she mumbled.

You laughed lightly before another contraction hit you. "Fuck," you groaned.

The nurse gently patted your leg. "You're doing great, sweetheart. Just keep breathing."

You squeezed the hell out of Eileen's hand, which got her attention. "Labor is hell--don't have kids."

She laughed. "I'm sure Sam will want one or two, especially after meeting his niece."

"Adopt," you ground out as another contraction hit you.

She gently brushed the hair out of your eyes, wiping the sweat off your forehead in the same motion.

You were beyond grateful for the two of them, even if you couldn't express it in that moment.

"Dean, you son of a bitch," you growled. "This is all your fault!"

You didn't mean it of course, it was more a heat of the moment thing. You missed him terribly and the pain of his absence had never been greater.

**********

Dean's POV:

In the middle of my walk, I heard someone scream my name. I paused, listening for any other sound.

"This is all your fault!"

I knew immediately it was (Y/N)'s voice and I went to her without a second thought.

I was shocked to find myself standing in a hospital room, my beautiful wife lying on the bed, clearly in pain. I stepped farther into the room when I heard (Y/N/N) whimper softly. Eileen was on the other side of the bed, squeezing her hand and gently brushing her hair back to calm her.

I was desperate to grab her hand, to tell her everything would be okay. She wasn't wrong--I was the one who got her pregnant, but I couldn't be there to help her through the birth of our child. It broke my heart to see her in such pain, especially knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

"Okay, sweetheart, it's time to push again," the nurse said softly.

(Y/N) let out a low grunt of pain as she leaned forward to push with all her strength. Eileen continued holding her hand and I watched her face tighten in discomfort as (Y/N) squeezed it.

Even though I knew she couldn't hear me, I started talking to her. "I'm right here, baby," I said softly. "You're doing so well, sweetheart."

Sam suddenly came into the room, looking concerned, but also a little terrified. "How you doin' (Y/N/N)?"

She shot daggers at my little brother and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Obviously not great, Samuel," she growled.

Eileen chuckled and gestured to Sam to go back out in the hallway. "We'll call you in when the baby comes."

Given the fact that Sam's face was a little green, I had to agree it was best for him to be out in the hall.

My attention was drawn back to (Y/N) when she let out a soft cry of pain.

"You're doing so great, (Y/N)," the nurse said. "Keep pushing, honey."

She continued pushing and even though she was clearly in a lot of pain and discomfort, I couldn't help but think she was so beautiful and powerful in that moment. I'd never seen a stronger woman in all my life.

"She's crowning!" the doctor called. "Give me a really good push."

(Y/N) groaned in pain as she pushed, cutting the circulation off in Eileen's hand with the strength of her squeeze.

"That's it, one more!"

(Y/N) let out one more agonized groan before collapsing back against the mattress. As soon as she did, I heard the loud crying of a newborn baby--our newborn baby.

"You did so well, honey," the nurse said. "So, so, well. I'll clean her up and let you hold her, okay?"

(Y/N) nodded with a weak smile, eyes meeting Eileen's moist ones. 'You did amazing,' she signed.

"Thank you," (Y/N) whispered.

The nurse brought a little bundle over and handed it to my wife. "Here's your mama."

(Y/N)'s arms wrapped around the sweet bundle, holding her close to her chest. "Hi, little one," she murmured sweetly. "Welcome to the world."

I leaned over to get a good view of my daughter. "Good job, mama," I whispered.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered.

I couldn't help but agree, she was perfect.

"What are we gonna name this sweet girl?" the nurse asked.

(Y/N) looked up with tearful eyes. "Charlie," she answered. "Her name is Charlie."

Tears filled my eyes, emotion overwhelming me. (Y/N) had loved Charlie has much as I did, so I shouldn't have been surprised that she'd want to honor her memory like this.

"That's a lovely name. Do you want to give little Charlie a middle name?"

At that moment, Sam came back in the room, a teary smile warming his features. He entered the room fully and came to the side of the bed to get a better view of his niece.

(Y/N) looked up at him and smiled. "MaryEllen," she answered. "Charlie MaryEllen Winchester."

Sam choked back tears as he leaned forward to place a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead and then to Charlie's. "I think that's a perfect name."

She smiled. "Me too."

The nurse smiled as she wrote down the name on the form in her hands. "Okay, sweetie, did you want to put a name down for the father?"

(Y/N)'s face dropped slowly and it made my heart ache. "Yes. His name was Dean--Dean Winchester."

The nurse nodded and jotted it down on her form. "I'll go file this and be back in a few minutes."

Tears were streaming down (Y/N)'s cheeks as she stared at our little girl. "I wish Dean was here," she mumbled.

Sam and Eileen exchanged sad looks. "I know, (Y/N/N)," Sam said gently. "So do I."

"I'm right here, baby," I whispered. "I'm always right here."

"She's perfect, isn't she?" (Y/N) said softly, changing the subject.

"She really is," Eileen confirmed.

I wanted to stay, but I couldn't bear to see my daughter and not hold her. It was making my chest ache in an unimaginable way.

I was about to make my exit when (Y/N) cast a glance to the ceiling and whispered, "I love you, Dean." She blew me a kiss and I couldn't help but smile.

"I love you both, baby. So damn much," I murmured before closing my eyes and returning to heaven.

**********

"Do babies ever sleep?" you grumbled as you stumbled into the kitchen after a very long and sleepless night.

Sam looked up from his coffee with a small smile. "She will eventually," he answered. When you shot him a glare, he slid his coffee towards you. "You need this more than I do."

Your expression softened. "Thanks." You took a sip, sighing gratefully as you sat at the table.

"Eileen with Charlie?"

You nodded. "She's so good with her."

Sam smiled. "I know."

You took a deep breath before saying something you'd been thinking for a while. "I think it's time for me to move out."

"What?" Sam asked in shock.

"The bunker's no place to raise a baby, Sam. I think it's time I find somewhere else to live."

He looked sad, but he nodded his head in understanding. "As much as I hate for you to leave, I understand why you need to."

You smiled tearfully. "Everywhere I look, I see Dean. His memory is infused in these walls and I love it, but it hurts--it hurts in a way I can't explain. Charlie and I need a fresh start--a real home."

Sam got up and gave you a warm hug. "Just don't go too far, okay? We need you both in our lives."

"I actually talked to Donna last week...she asked me to move in with her."

"That would be great! I'd feel better if you weren't alone, so I love the idea of you staying with Donna."

"It would just be for a little while, until I figure out what we should do for our future."

"You know I'll support you, (Y/N), in whatever you choose to do."

"I know, Sammy. You're the best uncle Charlie could ever have."

**********

Dean's POV:

When I arrived back in heaven, I found myself in a place I didn't recognize. I guess I'd kept walking mindlessly while I was checking in on (Y/N)...if that's even possible.

"Hello Dean," a familiar voice said behind me.

I turned around in surprise. "Jack?"

Jack smiled at me. "It's good to see you, Dean."

I returned the smile. "It's good to see you too."

"I heard you wanted to talk to me."

"I...I did?"

"Rather, you wanted to talk to (Y/N), which is something you would need to discuss with me."

"Bobby said it's not possible."

"He's correct. That's not something that has ever been done, but I suppose this is a special circumstance."

"It is?"

"You've saved the world selflessly so many times it's truly hard to keep track. Both (Y/N) and your brother have done so as well. As such, I believe you are owed something in return."

"I thought my reward was getting into heaven."

Jack smiled. "Perhaps initially, but this would be a reward specifically from me."

"Are you saying I could talk to (Y/N)? I mean, really talk to her?"

Jack nodded. "It would be a one-time thing, but it would allow you to properly say goodbye to her--and to Sam. Plus, I think you deserve the opportunity to meet your daughter."

"How long would I have?"

"I can give you an hour."

I nodded eagerly. "Please."

Jack smiled and reached out his hand, putting two fingers to my forehead.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a very familiar place. I looked around the bedroom (Y/N) and I had shared in the years since we'd discovered the bunker and I couldn't help but smile.

(Y/N) was curled up on the bed, reading a book, and she hadn't noticed me yet. I cleared my throat, getting her attention, and nearly ended up with a knife embedded in my chest as she threw it across the room with shocking accuracy.

"Woah! Baby, take it easy! It's me!"

She grabbed another knife from the bedside table and held it out in front of her. "Who the hell are you?" she growled.

"It's me, sweetheart."

"That's impossible. We burned your body."

"I know you did--listen, baby, I don't have much time. Jack sent me."

She paused, knife lowering slightly. "Jack sent you?"

I nodded. "Run whatever tests you need, babe, but it's me. It's really me."

She took a step towards me, then moved with surprising speed, tossing holy water at my face and pressing the silver knife against my skin.

"Dean?" she whimpered softly, dropping the knife to the floor.

"It's me, beautiful."

She said my name again before slamming her lips against mine in a hungry kiss. I kissed her back and my arms wrapped around her to pull her closer. I couldn't even express how much I'd missed this feeling.

When she broke the kiss, I saw tears in her eyes and I knew the look on her face was reflected on mine.

"I missed you so much," she whispered.

"I missed you too."

"How is this possible?"

"Jack sent me down here to say a proper goodbye--he said I deserved it."

She smiled and caressed my face. "How long do we have?"

"He gave me an hour."

She nodded. "Then we have no time to waste."

She pulled me even closer to her, kissing me with more passion than before. I knew what she wanted by the way she held me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it just as much.

I pulled her down onto the bed with me, ridding both of us of our clothes as quickly as possible. I held her close to me as we made love, not wanting to forget a single moment.

She whispered my name against my skin as she came around me, repeating the sound as she came down from her high. She held me tightly as I found my release, my teeth nipping at her pulse point to stay quiet.

We laid there quietly in each other's arms for a few minutes, but we both knew we didn't have a lot of time. I sighed softly as I dragged myself out of the bed to grab a washcloth to clean her up before we tugged our clothes back on.

Suddenly, (Y/N) seemed to realize something and yelled, "Oh my god! Oh my god, you don't know."

"Know what, sweetheart?"

"I--you--we...do you wanna meet your daughter?" she whispered.

I smiled warmly. "Little Charlie? I'd love to meet her."

Surprise lit up her pretty face. "You--you know?"

"Another gift from Jack--everyone in heaven is able to check in on the people they love down here. So I've been keeping an eye on you and Sam."

Tears filled her eyes again, and she couldn't formulate a verbal response. Instead she wrapped me in another hug and placed a soft kiss to my lips.

"I hear you when you talk to me too, ya know."

"You do?"

"I do. Anytime you call out to me, I can hear it."

She smiled warmly. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Dean."

"I can tell you it makes me incredibly happy."

She took a deep breath and shook her head, as if to shake off the intense emotions she was feeling. She turned away from me, walking over to the crib behind her. She reached in and scooped up our daughter before walking over to me.

"Do you wanna hold her, baby?"

I nodded, emotion clouding my vision. "I'd love to."

She slipped Charlie into my arms and I fell in love instantly. I didn't know I could feel this way about someone. I held my baby girl close to my chest and stared at her beautiful, peaceful sleeping face.

"She's so perfect, (Y/N/N)."

"She really is," she whispered as she leaned against my shoulder. "I'm so happy to get to have this moment with you."

I looked over at her with a soft smile. "Me too, sweetheart."

Charlie opened her eyes at the sound of our voices and made a cute little cooing sound that warmed my heart instantly. She reached one of her little hands up towards my face and I moved my hand towards her. She wrapped her fingers around one of mine and cooed again.

"Hi, princess," I whispered. "Aren't you just the most beautiful girl?"

(Y/N/N) chuckled softly and kissed my shoulder.

"You're gonna look just like your mama. I can tell. Hopefully you get her brain too."

"And your daddy's bravery and loyalty."

I smiled at her and she returned my expression. "Oh and her name? Perfect."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, baby. I love it."

"I wanted to honor your best friend and the two women who helped make you the incredible man you are."

I leaned down to her and kissed her again. "I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Dean."

We spent several more minutes in silence together, just looking at our beautiful baby--the baby we created together.

"We should go wake Sam," (Y/N) said softly.

"He'd kill me if I didn't see him too."

"He might kill me too," she teased.

She went to the door and gestured for me to follow. I followed her down the hall to Sam's room and waited as she knocked.

"(Y/N/N)? You okay?" Sam asked as he opened the door.

"I have a surprise." She stepped to the side to allow me to come into the doorway.

Sam's jaw dropped in shock. (Y/N) reached out and pulled Charlie from my arms and addressed Sam. "It's really him, Sammy."

"Dean?"

I nodded and my little brother practically tackled me in a hug.

(Y/N) smiled at the scene in front of her. She'd never expected to get another chance to say goodbye to me and she knew Sam needed this as much as she did.

"How are you here?" Sam asked as he finally let me go.

"A little favor from Jack--just for an hour. I'm here to say goodbye properly and to meet my baby girl."

Sam seemed to remember (Y/N) and Charlie's presence and he turned his attention to them. "I don't know what to say."

"I don't think any of us do," she said gently.

"That's not entirely accurate," I said softly. "I'd been thinking about what I would say if I could talk to you both."

I turned my attention to Sam first. "Sammy, I just want you to be happy. I want you to live a good, full life--the kind of life you always dreamed of. You deserve to be happy and I really couldn't ask for anything more than that."

As I finished addressing Sam, I heard Jack's voice from behind me. "Dean? It's time."

I turned to him and pleaded softly, "Just a couple more minutes to say goodbye to (Y/N)...please."

Jack nodded and took a step back to allow me to finish.

"Dean?" (Y/N) whispered.

"Your turn," I said gently as I reached for Charlie, pulling her into my arms with a smile. "Now you better be a good girl, you hear me? You treat your mama with honor and respect. You have no idea how lucky you are to have her as your mother, but I hope someday you realize it...and I hope you know just how much I love you. I'll always watch over you, little one. I promise." I placed a gentle kiss to her little forehead and she stirred happily. "Sammy, can you hold your niece for me?"

Sam nodded and took Charlie from my arms, too emotional to say anything else. He just clapped me on the shoulder and nodded--it was all I needed to understand what he couldn't say.

"Your turn, baby," I whispered as I took a step towards my wife.

"I'm not ready," she whimpered.

"Me neither, sweetheart, but here it goes." I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her close to me. She looked up at me with teary eyes and I took a deep breath before continuing. "You are the light of my life and I am so honored to have been loved by you all these years. I would do anything to be able to stay with you, but we both know that's not in the cards for us. That doesn't mean I won't be with you...I'll always be with you, sweetheart, even if it's only in your memories and your heart."

She sniffled and tried to smile a little. I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before continuing.

"I want you to keep living, (Y/N). I need you to keep going--to fight for the life you and our daughter deserve. I'm so proud of everything you and I have accomplished together and I can't wait to see what amazing things you do with the rest of your life. I love you, baby, and I'll never stop."

She closed her eyes and nodded, tears slipping past her lids. She opened them back up and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine. "I'll love you forever, Dean Winchester," she whispered against my lips.

I kissed her deeply, pouring everything I had into the kiss. I needed her to know exactly how much I loved her and how badly I would miss her.

After what felt like both eternity and not nearly long enough, we separated. "I've gotta go, beautiful," I whispered.

"I know," she whispered back.

I kissed her lips again, then her forehead, before pulling away from her. I smiled at my brother, who returned the expression in kind. I touched my daughter's cheek and turned away before I lost the nerve to walk to Jack's side.

"Jack?" (Y/N) called.

Jack's attention went to her and he smiled gently.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, (Y/N)."

"Keep him out of trouble," she said lightly with a small smile.

Jack chuckled softly. "I don't think even I can do that."

I turned back to look at my family one last time and I couldn't help but go back to give (Y/N) one last kiss. "Goodbye my love," I murmured.

"I'll see you later, Dean," she said gently. "This isn't forever."

I held her close and kissed the top of her head. "Take your time, baby. Take your time."

I pulled away from her and walked away, refusing to look back--knowing if I did, it would break my heart. I looked at Jack and said softly, "I'm ready."

He nodded and touched my forehead just as he had before. When I opened my eyes again, I couldn't help but smile as I stood outside of the Roadhouse. I knew I would never be whole as long as (Y/N) and I were apart, but I felt so much better knowing she was safe, happy, and loved...that she would never give up, that she would keep living.

**********

Almost three years had passed since you'd said goodbye to Dean. It had been an eventful time--and a deeply emotional three years. You couldn't begin to express how much you missed him, but it comforted you to know he was okay and could check in on you whenever he liked.

You'd moved into Donna's house and you would be forever grateful for her compassion, kindness, and friendship--and for her help with Charlie. Raising a child on your own wasn't easy, but you were blessed with a chosen family who would never let you down.

On this particular night, you were curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling as you so often did. You spoke to Dean, telling him how much you missed him and updating him on Charlie's life.

"I can't believe she's already three," you murmured. "She has your eyes, you know--the most beautiful shade of green I've ever seen."

You sighed. "There are moments...moments when she looks up at me and I swear I'm looking into your eyes. I just have this feeling she's going to be so much like you, even if she looks more like me."

You chuckled before continuing. "I hope she's strong and brave like you, and also kind and loyal like you. I hope she loves as passionately as you did and I hope she never has to wonder her worth--or how much we love her."

You'd just finished speaking when you heard a soft whimper at your door a second before it opened. Charlie stepped through it, eyes teary.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?"

"I had a bad dream," she whispered.

You pulled the blankets back and invited her into your bed. The little girl curled up against you with her head on your shoulder. You rubbed her back soothingly and asked her what she'd dreamed about.

"A monster," she whispered fearfully.

**********

Dean's POV:

I'd been listening to (Y/N) talk to me when Charlie suddenly appeared in the room, telling her mother she'd had a nightmare. I watched as (Y/N) invited her to come sleep in her bed and ask her what she'd dreamed about.

"A monster," she'd whispered.

"A monster?" (Y/N) asked. "What kind of monster, baby?"

"He was big and hairy and he had claws and red eyes and he was really scary," Charlie rambled. "He came out of my closet and tried to hurt me."

I watched (Y/N) pull her a little closer, holding her tighter than before. She kissed the top of Charlie's head and promised her she was safe.

"No monster is going to hurt you, little one," she reassured our daughter. "Do you know why?"

Charlie looked up at her, bright green eyes filled with fear as she shook her head.

(Y/N) smiled at her warmly. "Because you're a Winchester. And do you know what monsters fear the most, sweetheart?"

Charlie again shook her head.

"Winchesters," (Y/N) whispered. "Your daddy and your Uncle Sammy made sure of that. No monster would dare try to hurt you."

"Really?" she asked in a small voice.

"Really," (Y/N) confirmed. "Besides, I'm here to protect you and so is your Aunt Donna. I will always keep you safe, Charlie. Always."

Charlie seemed pleased by this, a little smile appearing on her face. "You promise?"

(Y/N) smiled and kissed her on the head. "I promise, little one."

Charlie nestled in closer to her mother and sighed contentedly. (Y/N) stroked her hair and began to sing softly, the sound more soothing than anything she'd said thus far.

I watched my beautiful wife comforting our daughter in a way my father had never comforted us when we were afraid. (Y/N) made Charlie feel safe and protected and I knew she would defend her with her life--just as I would have done.

I stayed long enough to hear (Y/N) sing all the words to 'Let It Be', her favorite Beatles song. It reminded me of when I was young and my mother sang her favorite, 'Hey Jude'.

I wished I was there for them both--to comfort and protect the way a father and a husband should. But I knew the people I had left behind would always be there for my girls, and that had to be enough.

By the time (Y/N) finished singing, Charlie had fallen asleep. She looked so peaceful it warmed my heart. (Y/N) smiled up at the ceiling and blew a kiss my way--her way of closing the conversation.

I returned to heaven, pleased with the knowledge the people I loved most were safe and happy. I couldn't ask for anything more.

**********

"Charlie MaryEllen Winchester!" you yelled as your daughter ran across the backyard of Sam and Eileen's house.

You heard her contagious giggle and you shook your head. "This child..." you mumbled as Sam came up beside you.

"She's a lot like her dad."

"So is yours," you teased as you nodded towards little Dean as he chased Charlie throughout the yard.

"I feel like naming him after Dean should have been a warning."

You laughed. "He's got great parents, so I wouldn't worry about him."

Sam slung an arm around you and tugged you into his side. "Charlie's got a pretty great mom too."

You smiled up at him and laid your head against him. "I can't believe she's six."

"Neither can I," Sam admitted. "And Dean's three? When the hell did that happen?"

"No idea."

"Kids!" Eileen called from the doorway. "Dinner!" The kids ran into the house and Eileen gestured at the two of you. "That means you too!"

You laughed. "How does she put up with us?"

"She's a saint."

"Amen."

After dinner, the five of you gathered in the living room to play board games. Halfway through a game of Monopoly, Charlie looked up at you and asked for a story.

"You always tell the best stories, mama."

You smiled. "Okay, munchkin. What kind of story do you want?"

"Can you tell one about daddy?"

Emotion clouded your face for a moment before you smiled at your daughter again. You looked into her beautiful green eyes and hummed softly. "I think I can come up with something."

"So does that mean we're done with Monopoly?" Sam asked hopefully.

"I think so," you chuckled.

"Thank god." He turned to little Dean. "Auntie (Y/N) is gonna tell a story about your Uncle Dean."

"Uncie Dean!" he squealed happily.

You laughed warmly and gestured for both kids to come sit in front of you. You closed your eyes for a moment, mentally calling out to your husband in the hopes he would check in and see this moment.

"How 'bout the time daddy gave me an impromptu birthday party?"

Sam laughed loudly. "I love that story."

You smiled. "Me too." Your expression changed as you reminisced, but the warmth never left your eyes.

"It was my 25th birthday and your daddy wanted to celebrate what he deemed was a big milestone..."

**********

Dean's POV:

I heard (Y/N) call my name, so I told Charlie, Jo, and Pamela that I had to forfeit our game of pool. "It's (Y/N/N)," I said with a shrug.

"Awww," all three of them said in a teasing tone.

I waved them off as I went outside to visit my wife. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the whole family sitting in Sam and Eileen's living room.

My daughter and my nephew were sitting on the floor watching (Y/N) with wide eyes. Even Sam and Eileen were paying close attention. (Y/N) appeared to be telling some kind of story and she was signing it as well to make sure Eileen could keep up.

I entered the room fully and heard (Y/N) telling a story--a story about me.

"We weren't exactly big on celebrating birthdays in our line of work, but Dean got it into his head that today was important and needed to be celebrated. I have no idea what the heck he was thinking, since we were living out of motels at the time, but he decided he wanted to have a birthday party for me."

"He didn't say a word to me about it," she continued, "but he did tell his brother." She threw a pointed look in Sam's direction and he shrugged innocently. "We had just started dating...I think it had only been a few months, actually."

"It was six months," Sam cut in at the same time I whispered, "Six."

(Y/N) laughed. "Okay, six months. Anyway, we didn't have any cases on the horizon--no where else we needed to be, so your father thought it would be a good idea to have a celebration. He bought a cake, balloons, streamers--the whole nine yards."

"He sent the two of us out to pick up dinner so he could decorate the little motel room," Sam added.

"When we returned, the entire room was covered in decorations and he was standing in the middle of the room holding a bundle of lilies--my favorite flower."

She sighed happily at the memory and I had a feeling she could picture it as well as I could.

"He even said 'surprise!' when we came into the room. I remember it being a really heartwarming moment for me. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd celebrated a birthday and here was this man I'd only been with for a short time going all out to celebrate me."

"Your's was the only birthday I can remember him making a fuss over," Sam commented. "That's when I knew how much he cared about you."

She chuckled lightly. "Oddly enough, I still wasn't sure why he'd picked me, and I had no clue how deeply he cared for me...but I can pinpoint the exact moment I knew I loved him."

Both kids leaned forward, especially Charlie, who seemed to be hanging on to her mother's every word. Even Sam looked like he was unaware of this part of the story.

"We'd had dinner, and Dean forced Sam to sing me happy birthday--which was hilarious, I might add--and then he brought out the cake. It wasn't a store-bought cake like I'd expected. It was a homemade cake--yellow cake with chocolate icing, my absolute favorite. I was beyond shocked, especially since we didn't have an oven."

She grinned as she continued. "When I asked him where he got it, he admitted that the day before he'd gone to the store to get the supplies he needed and then he uh--well, he broke into a bakery to use their oven to bake me a cake for my birthday. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for me...and silly as it might sound, that was the exact moment I knew I was in love with him."

"Daddy broke into a bakery?" Charlie asked.

(Y/N) laughed. "Yes, he did, but it was a special circumstance. Don't commit crimes, kids."

Sam laughed and I could tell he was thinking about all the illegal shit we'd done in our lives--all kinds of things we wouldn't want either of our children to do.

"I want someone to break into a bakery to make me a cake," my daughter mumbled.

All the adults in the room laughed, myself included.

"Baby, I'd break into a bakery for you any day," (Y/N) teased warmly. She reached out and scooped Charlie up and pulled her onto her lap. She squeezed her tightly before tickling her stomach lightly to emphasize her words.

I watched the sweet moment for a little while longer before the ache of not being with them became unbearable. I blew my wife a kiss I knew she couldn't see and one for my daughter as well. "I love you both," I whispered before returning to my rightful place.

**********

"Moooooom!" Charlie moaned. "It's Sunday! You can't do things on Sunday."

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "You wouldn't have to do anything today if you'd done your homework yesterday, like I told you to."

She grumbled and sighed. "I hate homework."

"You sound like your dad," you teased lightly.

Charlie seemed to brighten at the comment, as she often did when she was compared to her dad. "Can't we do our Sunday dance party first?" she pleaded.

You sighed, giving her a look you'd often used on Dean. It clearly said 'You aggravate the hell out of me, but I love you endlessly'. Charlie knew what it meant as well as Dean had, so she knew she'd won.

"Fine," you mumbled, throwing your hands up.

"I'll pick the first song!" Charlie yelled as she jumped out of her chair and ran towards the stereo.

You'd bought an old stereo that could play cassette tapes as a kind of homage to Dean. After all, you had all of the albums he'd loved on cassette.

"This one!" Charlie exclaimed, pressing play on the machine.

The intro to 'You Shook Me All Night Long' by AC/DC started playing and you couldn't help but laugh. It was probably your fault she loved classic rock so much, but she really seemed to thrive on it the same way Dean had.

You watched your daughter start dancing around the living room to one of her favorite songs. At nine years old, she had no idea what the song was really about--but she sang those lyrics with all her might.

She grabbed your hand and dragged you into the dance with her. The two of you danced around the living room, singing along to song after song until you were both out of breath.

You'd started 'Sunday Dance Party' back when Charlie was just a baby. You'd dance around with her in your arms, singing along to songs that spoke to your soul--and songs Dean had loved with all his heart. The tradition had continued on for nine years now--and you hoped it would never end.

"Okay," you gasped breathlessly as the last song came to an end. "How 'bout a slower song to wind down?

Charlie nodded her agreement and started digging through the albums. "Mom, where's the Bob Seger one?"

Your heart clenched for a moment, remembering how you'd taken the album to your room to listen to it when you were having a particularly rough night. "One sec, baby. Let me grab it."

You went to your room and retrieved the tape, delivering it to your daughter who looked confused.

"Why was it in your room?"

"I wanted to listen to it earlier this week. It's--well it's a special album."

Charlie looked at you quizzically.

"It was one of your dad's favorites. He always said Bob Seger was the greatest lyricist of all time..." You closed your eyes, picturing Dean's face as he sang along to 'Night Moves'. "I can still hear him singing along."

Charlie looked sad and she reached out to grab your hand. "Do you wanna listen to someone else?"

You smiled and wiped the stray tear that had fallen on your cheek. "No, baby. Pick a Bob Seger song."

Charlie gave you a lopsided smile that so resembled one of Dean's and your heart tightened. She selected a song and to your surprise, Dean's favorite Bob Seger song started to play.

"Night Moves," you whispered.

"I really like this one," Charlie admitted.

You took her hands and started to sway to the music. "It was your dad's favorite."

Charlie beamed at that--clearly pleased with the correlation. It was another song she knew every word to, but had no idea what it was about. It made you smile, hearing her sing along.

When the song came to an end, Charlie looked up at you. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

"What was dad's all-time favorite song?"

You exhaled slowly as you thought about it. "He had two--'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blue'."

"Led Zeppelin."

You grinned. "Very good. Your dad would be proud."

She smiled. "What's yours?"

Your expression changed, the smile falling from your face. "If you'd asked me before I met your dad, my answer would have been different. But now? It's an REO Speedwagon song from the '80s. It's called 'Can't Fight This Feeling'."

"I...I don't think I know that one."

"That's probably because I haven't played it in a very long time--you were probably four the last time I listened to it."

"Why?"

"It was too hard to listen to it," you admitted. "The night Dean--your dad--asked me out, we went to a karaoke bar. He decided he wanted to sing a song and he chose 'Can't Fight This Feeling'. He dedicated it to me and it became our song. When he asked me to marry him, that song was playing in the background and it was the song we danced to at our wedding."

"So it reminds you of dad."

You nodded. "More than any other song ever could."

"Could we...could we listen to it?" she asked softly. A pained expression crossed your face and she immediately backtracked. "We don't have to."

"No, no, it's okay. We can listen to it. It's probably way past time I listen to it again."

You went into your room and dug out the old REO Speedwagon album, bringing it out to the living room and placing it in the cassette player. You pressed play and as the intro started, your chest tightened again.

Charlie listened intently as the song played and you swayed along to it, the lyrics slipping from your lips softly. For a moment, you swore you could feel Dean standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you, swaying with you. You closed your eyes and heard his voice in your mind, singing softly just for you to hear.

**********

"What am I supposed to do with her?" you grumbled, head in your hands as you sat across the table from Jody.

Your friend laughed softly. "She's a teenager now, (Y/N). She's probably gonna be a bit of a pain in the ass for a while."

You groaned. "You raised teenage girls. How did you do it?"

Jody smiled. "It wasn't easy, let me tell you, but my girls are good girls now and I'm thankful for it. It's probably gonna be a little harder for you, though--Charlie takes after her father in a lot of ways."

"Oh you mean like his stubborn, pig-headedness? Or his sarcasm and biting humor?"

Jody laughed. "Yeah all of that is true--but she also takes after him in a lot of the good ways too. She's just as deeply emotional as him, but she doesn't know how to express it or understand it yet."

You sighed. "You're not wrong. Dean never really learned how to express it, but he didn't exactly have a normal childhood. I'm just hoping I can help her--that is if I don't kill her for mouthing off all the damn time."

**********

Dean's POV:

I was surprised to see (Y/N) sitting at Jody's dining table, the older woman sitting across from her. (Y/N) looked stressed and I felt the strong urge to comfort her, even though I knew I couldn't.

"You're not gonna kill her," Jody assured my wife.

"I just might if she tells me I'm ruining her life one more time."

"Uh-oh. I've heard that one before. What's she think you're doing?"

"I told her she can't hunt."

"Well yeah, she's 13."

(Y/N) shook her head. "Ever. I told her she could never hunt."

Jody looked sad, but unsurprised. "Ahh..and she didn't take that well."

"No," (Y/N) said firmly. "No, she did not."

I was more than a little surprised (Y/N) had told Charlie she couldn't hunt. I mean, I didn't want her to hunt either, but it wasn't like (Y/N) to try and make life decisions for someone else.

"Did you tell her why?" Jody asked.

"I tried, but she was too angry to hear me," (Y/N) whispered. "I can't lose her, Jody--she's all I have."

Jody reached out and squeezed her hand. "She's not all you have, honey, but I get what you're saying. She's your daughter and you don't want that life for her."

"She's all I have left of Dean," she whispered so softly, Jody had to lean in to hear her.

"Oh honey," Jody said gently as she got up to give my wife a hug. She cried into Jody's shoulder and I suddenly felt like I was intruding on a very private moment I wasn't meant to see. I was about to go back to heaven when I heard (Y/N) speak again.

"Do you think I should tell her everything?"

Jody sighed as she thought about it. "Do you think she's ready to know the truth?"

"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "But I can't help but feel that if she only knew, she wouldn't want that life for herself...and maybe she would understand why I don't either."

I wasn't entirely sure what (Y/N) was referring to. I assumed she meant the general horror that was our lives--and all the pain and loss that went with it.

"Talk to Sam," Jody suggested. "See what he thinks."

(Y/N) nodded her agreement and I decided to stay with her until she spoke to Sam...I had a feeling I would want to know what happened next.

**********

"Hey Sammy," you said softly as he opened the door.

"Here to get Charlie?" he asked.

You nodded, but grabbed his arm to keep him from turning around to get her. "I...I wanted to talk to you first."

"Sure, (Y/N/N). You okay?"

You shook your head. "Did she mention how much she hates me?"

Sam sighed and guided you to his office, just off the front door. "She mentioned something about it, yeah."

"I told her she couldn't be a hunter."

"I'm surprised she'd even want to be, given how much death and pain it caused all of us."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Sam raised his eyebrows, but remained quiet, waiting for you to continue.

"I didn't tell her the whole story," you admitted. "About Dean's death."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't want her to know how awful it really was, so I told her he died instantly--painlessly."

Sam sighed softly. "(Y/N)..."

"I know! I know...I shouldn't have lied to her. But the truth is so much worse and I didn't want those images in her mind. I didn't want her to know how he suffered, how we watched him die knowing we couldn't save him."

A soft gasp behind you alerted you to the presence of another person. You spun around just in time to see your daughter peeking around the corner, a look of horror on her face. As soon as you made eye contact, Charlie raced away from you, running up the stairs and locking herself in the guest bedroom.

"Charlie!" you called as you ran after her, Sam close on your heels.

You knocked on the door and begged her to open it--to let you explain, but she refused.

"Baby, please just open the door," you begged.

Sam touched your arm and gestured something you didn't quite understand. He repeated the gesture and a look of comprehension spread across your face. You nodded and he left quickly to grab what he needed.

When he returned, he had his lock picking tools in his hand and he began to pick the bedroom door lock. When it clicked, signaling it was now unlocked, he stepped back and allowed you to enter.

**********

Dean's POV:

I was shocked by the events that had led to this moment, but at the same time, I didn't really blame my wife for lying to Charlie. In all honesty, I had done the same thing about a million times in my life--all under the guise of protection.

As (Y/N) stepped into the room, I followed her, eyes darting around the space, trying to find my daughter. I finally noticed her, curled up on the floor on the other side of the bed, back against the wall and knees pulled up to her chest.

(Y/N) clearly saw her too because she made her way over there, dropping to her knees in front of Charlie. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she whispered.

"You lied to me," Charlie seethed.

I saw (Y/N)'s eyes flutter closed for a moment, tears beginning to form. "You're right," she admitted softly. "I lied to you. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I can't change it. If you'll let me, I'd like to explain why...and tell you the truth."

"How do I know you won't lie again?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

Charlie finally made eye contact with her mother and my heart nearly broke at the hurt look on her face. She'd been crying pretty hard and her eyes were red and puffy. She looked conflicted, but finally reached out a hand and her mother grabbed it, pulling her to her feet.

(Y/N) and Charlie sat on the bed in silence for a moment before (Y/N) began to speak. "When you were little and you'd ask me where your dad was, it always hurt me to answer you. When you were born, I was still in mourning, and I never really dealt with his death until you were a few months old."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "Our lives were complicated in a way I could never fully describe to you. Your father always believed he would die young--I was just too naive to agree. His death broke me in ways I'm embarrassed to admit. He was my everything, Charlie, and for a while, I wished I could trade places with him."

She sighed, tears falling freely now. "But then I found out I was pregnant and I had to shift my whole mindset. My life became about taking care of you--protecting you--and nothing else mattered. I may not have always gone about it in the right way, but I never intended to hurt you."

Charlie sniffled a little and turned to face (Y/N) as she continued talking.

"The things this family has done--the lives we've saved, has earned us a bit of special treatment. I know I've told you a lot of things about monsters and demons and angels--all of those things were true. Heaven and Hell really do exist, and your dad really is in heaven."

She closed her eyes, thinking back to many years prior. "When you were a baby, your dad was given a gift by god. He was able to return to earth for one short hour to say goodbye to me and Uncle Sammy--and to meet you."

Charlie's eyes widened in shock. "He met me?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Yeah, baby, he did. He held you in his arms and told you how perfect you were--and how he wanted your life to be beautiful and amazing; sentiments I also share. It wasn't until that moment I really started to heal--to properly grieve."

"But what about his death?" Charlie whispered. "I heard you say it was awful and he suffered."

I watched agony flash across my wife's face and I wanted so badly to hold her--to take away the pain. Just like I wanted to shield Charlie from the memory (Y/N) was about to share.

"We've lost a lot of people in this life, Charlie. More people than I'd care to admit. The three incredible women you're named after all died as a direct result of hunting--of the life we chose. There were so many others that we loved deeply and lost painfully. Your dad was no different."

"The main parts of the story are true. We were hunting vampires--me, your dad, and your Uncle Sam. Everything seemed fine...it was a shocking cut and dry, easy hunt, but it turned into the worst night of my life. I heard your uncle scream my name and I just knew...I almost didn't turn around."

She sniffed softly and exhaled shakily. The painful memory was not one she had ever wanted to relive. "Your dad had been thrown by a vampire, like so many times before. I didn't even think anything of it, but when I turned around, I saw--" she cleared her throat, "I saw his feet dangling slightly, up against a post, with a piece of metal sticking out of his chest."

Charlie gasped and renewed tears sprang from her eyes.

(Y/N) didn't stop...once she'd begun, she couldn't stop. "I knew without him saying a word that he was dying--this was it. Your uncle and I had to stand there and watch him slowly fade away. I heard him take his last breath, taking a piece of my soul with him. It was hell, Charlie."

Charlie was crying harder as her mother turned to her, her own tears staining her cheeks. (Y/N) reached for her and Charlie dove into the comfort of her arms.

"I'm sorry, mama," she cried.

(Y/N) tightened her grip. "It's alright baby."

The two stayed like that for a long time, not separating until their tears had dried.

When Charlie sat up and wiped her face, she seemed almost sheepish.

(Y/N) turned to her with a sad smile. "So you see, that's why I don't want you to be a hunter. It's not that I think you couldn't do it or a desire to control you--I just don't wanna lose you."

Charlie nodded. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you," she whispered.

"It's okay, baby. I'm not mad."

I couldn't even begin to express the various emotions I was feeling in that moment. I was proud of my wife and heartbroken for her and Charlie. I missed them both terribly and I knew they felt the same. The ache in my chest was a constant reminder of the distance between us--and I didn't know if I could take much more of it.

********

"Well, baby," you said, looking at the ceiling. "Our little girl turns 16 today...and it scares the hell out of me."

You sighed and dragged yourself out of bed, heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

"She's got a boyfriend, you know," you continued. "I think I scared him a little bit when he came over last weekend to meet me. You'd be proud."

You brushed your teeth, humming quietly as you did.

"His name is Zack--he seems nice enough. I'm not too worried about her. She's a tough girl and knows how to fight, thanks to her mama."

You sighed as you ran a brush through your hair.

"I just can't believe she's two years away from adulthood. It blows my mind," you admitted softly. "It's days like today that I miss you more than ever. I wish you were here Dean, and I love so much."

You blew a kiss towards the ceiling before finishing getting ready.

When you went downstairs, Charlie was already at the table eating a bowl of cereal.

"My, my, you're up early," you teased.

"It's not every day a girl turns 16, mom," she teased in return.

"16...god that makes me feel old."

"You are old."

You threw a dish towel at her and she giggled as she blocked it. "Little shit," you mumbled.

"Fry cry from when you used to call me 'little one'."

You smiled. "You were so cute back then."

"What? Am I hideous now?"

You laughed and squeezed her in a tight hug. "You're the most beautiful girl I know."

You kissed her cheek and she groaned. "Gross, mom."

You laughed. "You know, someday you're gonna miss this. Soon, you'll be going off to college and leaving me in the dust. You'll get married and move away and one day you'll wake up and think 'man I wanna hug my mom'."

Charlie rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." She paused for a moment, her face sobering slightly. "Hey mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you date?"

You nearly choked on your coffee. "Pardon?"

"Why don't you ever date? You're pretty and smart--I know there's a lot of hot, single dads at school who would love to take you out."

"As much as I appreciate that darling, I'm not interested in dating."

"Why not?"

You sat your mug down. "Why the sudden interest in my dating life?"

"Because I'm going to college soon, mom--and I don't want you to be alone," she admitted softly.

You sighed. "Oh sweetheart. You don't need to worry about me, I'll be just fine. Besides, I'm not alone--not really."

"I don't mean friends mom, I mean someone to love you."

"To be honest with you, Charlie, I've thought about it...but I know, in my heart, no one will ever compare to your dad. No one could ever love me the way he did, nor could I ever love someone as much as I love him. So I don't mind being alone--I know for a fact I will see your dad again. That's a gift most people will never have."

"I want a love like that," Charlie said quietly.

You smiled. "I hope you will someday, baby. I really do."

She smiled and nodded, looking down at the last of her cereal. "It's kind of nice knowing heaven is real--like not just having faith, but knowing."

You glanced up, a small smile on your face. "Yeah it is, sweetheart. Yeah it is."

**********

"Mama," Charlie whimpered as she practically barged through your front door and straight into your arms.

"What's wrong baby? What happened?"

"Steven broke up with me," she cried.

"Oh sweetheart," you said gently. "Come on in and sit down. Let me make you some chamomile tea."

Charlie sniffled and nodded, coming into the house and sitting down at the kitchen island to watch you as you prepared her tea.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

"He said I wasn't good enough for him--that he's going places and I'll just 'hold him back'."

You closed your eyes and your grip tightened on the tea kettle in your hand. You felt the strong urge to go find this kid and smack him around a little, but you knew that wouldn't solve anything. It certainly wouldn't fix your daughter's broken heart. For the first time, you were glad Dean wasn't here--you knew he would have beaten the shit outta the kid for hurting his baby girl.

"He's obviously an idiot--and an asshole, for that matter."

Charlie sniffled again. "But I love him."

You sighed softly, turning around to face her. "I know, sweetie. But I also know he's not the right man for you."

"How do you know?"

"He would have never said those things to you if he was. If he loved you and I mean truly loved you, you would be his priority."

Charlie nodded, but still looked horribly sad. You finished making her tea and sat the cup down in front of her with a soft smile.

"You're gonna be okay, baby. It's going to hurt for a while--and that's alright--it's okay to feel. But you're going to dust yourself off and keep going."

"What if I never find anyone?" she whispered.

"You're 19, Charlie," you said gently. "You've got so much time. I was 31 when I married your father."

She looked up at you with sad eyes. "I wanna find a love like you and daddy."

You inhaled deeply. "That's all I've ever wanted for you, sweetheart--and I know your dad would want the same thing. I'm sure it's hard to not have relationship role models in your parents, but at least you know how we feel about each other."

Charlie shook her head qucikly. "You guys are my relationship role models. Just because dad isn't here, doesn't mean I don't look up to him and you. I've heard stories about how much he loved you my entire life--from everyone, Uncle Sam, Aunt Donna, Aunt Eileen, Aunt Jody, Claire, Alex...everyone. And I've seen how much you love him...even now. It's been 19 years since he died and your love hasn't diminished."

Tears filled your eyes. You were glad she knew how much her parents loved each other, even if she never saw them together.

You came around the island and took Charlie's hand, guiding her to the couch in the living room. She sat down beside you and you held her close, letting her cry softly into your chest.

"Let me tell you something, sweetheart. Someday, you're going to meet someone who makes you laugh, holds you when you cry, supports all of your goals and ambitions, and loves you for who you are. They'll treat you right, respect you, and fight for you even when it's difficult."

You kissed the top of her head and continued, "I hope that person makes you feel amazing--like you're the only woman in the world to them. I want you to be loved fully--by someone who sees your value, your worth. And I hope you love them with the same kind of endless passion."

Charlie sniffed and held you a little tighter.

"I love your dad with everything I have--he's the other half of my soul. He loved me infinitely more than I deserved and I am incredibly honored to have experienced that kind of love. All I want is for you to experience a love like that--a love that lasts forever...death be damned."

**********

Dean's POV:

I listened to my daughter cry over her first broken heart and I watched my wife comfort her in a way only someone as amazing as she is could do.

I listened to Charlie say her mother and I were her role models--that she hoped to find a love like ours one day.

I cried as I listened to my wife tell our daughter her hopes for the future--and the love she hoped Charlie would experience. I cried even harder as (Y/N) tells her the kind of love we shared--the kind that lasts even in death.

I can't help but share the same hope as my wife--echo the same prayers for her future. She deserves the world, and that includes a love story for the ages.

I watch, with tears in my eyes, as my wife glances up at the ceiling and mouths 'I love you' before blowing a kiss. This time, I whisper the words back and blow a kiss to her, hoping somehow she can sense it.

**********

"He's just such a great guy," Charlie gushed.

You looked over at Sam, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Does he treat you right?" he asked.

Charlie nodded eagerly. "He's so good to me. He's always respectful and sweet--I...I think I love him."

Your eyes widened and you gave Sam a pointed look.

"Why don't you bring him by for dinner on Saturday?" Sam suggested.

"That would be great!" She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thanks Uncle Sam!"

She rushed out the door, giddy in the way only new love could be.

"So you're gonna research the hell outta him, right?" you asked.

"Obviously," Sam agreed.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Sam had completed his research and to your happy surprise, there didn't seem to be anything concerning in this guy's past. Of course, you took precautions, as you so often did with Charlie's friends and boyfriends. You needed to make sure she was safe.

Sam had laid out the silver dinnerware and you'd blessed all the water in the house, just in case. You could never be too careful--you were still Winchesters after all.

When Charlie and her boyfriend, Paul, arrived, you were surprised by how gentlemanly he was. He'd brought you flowers, which you thought was a very sweet gesture, especially since they were lilies--your favorite.

"That's so sweet of you, Paul," you said warmly. "Lilies are my favorite."

He smiled. "I asked Charlie what your favorite was so I could get you something you would like."

You were surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, but it gave you a very positive feeling in your chest. A feeling you could see reflected in your daughter's eyes.

The more you talked with him and the more information you got, the more you liked him. He was genuinely kind and caring, and you could see how much he cared for Charlie.

He made her laugh, he made her smile, and he was gently affectionate with her in a way that reminded you of Dean. In fact, there was a lot about him that made you think of Dean...and that made you extremely happy for your daughter.

Eileen, Charlie, and Paul were sitting in the living room after dinner, while you and Sam cleared the table and did dishes. You'd had to practically force Paul to go sit down. He was very insistent on helping you. Normally, you would have happily taken his help, but you really wanted to talk to Sam alone.

"So what do you think?" you asked softly.

"He doesn't seem to be any kind of monster," Sam mumbled. "And he treats Charlie well."

"I like him," you admitted. "He, uhh--he reminds me of Dean."

"Really?" Sam asked in surprise.

"The way he looks at Charlie...the way he makes her laugh and smile...the way she looks at him. All of it reminds me of my relationship with Dean. It's what I've always wanted for her."

Sam smiled. "You must really like him to compare him to Dean."

You chuckled. "You're not wrong. I'm happy for her, but I'm not trying to marry her off yet."

Sam laughed. "I know you're not, don't worry."

Later that night, Charlie asked you what you thought of Paul and you repeated what you'd told Sam earlier.

"He reminds you of dad?" Charlie whispered.

You nodded. "I liked him very much."

"So do I, mom."

You pulled her close, hugging her tightly. "I'm happy for you baby."

"Thanks...I'm glad you approve."

"So does your Uncle Sam, for the record."

"That actually makes me feel really good," Charlie admitted. "It's almost as good as having a seal of approval from dad."

You smiled. "I know your dad would like him too, sweetheart. He makes you happy and that's all we've ever wanted for you."

**********

"Today's the day," you whispered, looking at the framed picture of your husband. "Our baby girl is getting married."

It had been two years since you'd first met Paul and the longer you knew him, the more you liked him. He was the right match for Charlie and you couldn't even begin to describe how happy you were for her. She deserved to be loved by a good man--to experience a love as powerful as her parents have.

You couldn't believe they were getting married today. It was the next step in your daughter's life and it brought you so much joy, and perhaps a little sadness. It was the end of an era. Your little girl was about to start a new life with the man she loved...and it made you miss your other half.

You'd always known today would be difficult. Dean wouldn't be there to walk his daughter down the aisle and it broke your heart, but that didn't mean he couldn't be present. You had a framed picture of him with you at Charlie's suggestion--a way to keep his memory with you on this special day.

His picture was wonderful, but you craved his presence--his soul. You wanted to feel like he was with you, and you knew he'd want to witness the events of the day.

"Hey baby," you said to the ceiling. "I really need you here, Dean."

You waited a few moments in silence, hoping he had heard you.

**********

Dean's POV:

I was lounging in a chair in the Roadhouse, listening to Charlie and Ash have a heated debate about some nerdy computer thing I couldn't possibly understand. Just listening to them made me smile--it felt good to be surrounded by so many people I'd loved and lost.

I took a slow drink of my whiskey and chuckled softly at their antics. I made eye contact with Ellen over the tops of their heads and she had a similar expression on her face.

"I really need you here, Dean."

I heard (Y/N)'s voice in my mind and knew I needed to go to her immediately. She didn't sound distressed, but I could tell she needed me by the tone of her voice.

I stood up and crossed the room towards the bar where Ellen was standing. "I need to go check on (Y/N/N)."

Ellen nodded. "Use the backroom. I'll keep everyone out."

"Thanks, Ellen."

I went into the backroom and sat down. I closed my eyes and pictured the sweetest face in the world--my beloved (Y/N). When I opened my eyes, I was in a place I didn't recognize, looking at a woman I knew to be my wife--even if she didn't quite look like the woman I always pictured.

She was older than even the last time I saw her, but she was no less beautiful. Her curves were softer, her hair was graying, and the lines on her face were deeper. None of that mattered to me, she still stole my heart with just a glance.

She was wearing a long silky robe, which only increased my confusion. We were in a strange place, and she wasn't wearing proper clothes.

"Well, handsome, I think I've given you enough time," she said softly. "You're probably wondering where we are..." she gestured around. "Today is a very special day...it's Charlie's wedding day."

I gasped--I hadn't realized enough time had passed for her to have met a man worthy of marriage...hell, I didn't even know who she was marrying.

"I don't know if you've met Paul yet, but he's a wonderful man, Dean--and he's so good to Charlie. You would really like him, I just know it. He even reminds me of you," she said softly. "He loves her the way you love me. It's what we've always wanted for her."

I couldn't believe my daughter was getting married, but if her soon-to-be-husband was as great as (Y/N) described, then I was beyond happy for her. I wasn't going to miss a single moment of this day, no matter how long it took.

"I've gotta get my dress on and go check on (Y/N). Feel free to go find her--I'll be there soon."

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to stay for that...she was still my wife, after all, but it felt creepy to watch her change. Instead, I went to find my daughter.

It didn't take me long to find her and when I did, my heart clenched in my chest. She looked so much like her mother it was almost frightening, the only difference was her eyes.

I had no idea how old she was, but I would have guessed she was around 28--if only based on how her mother had looked at that age. She had long, beautiful hair that was styled in some fancy wedding do. A woman was finishing her makeup and there were other girls in the room with her chatting away as they got ready.

I didn't want to see something I couldn't unsee, so I decided to go back to (Y/N)'s room until the ceremony began.

**********

You smoothed your dress and took a deep breath before entering the bridal suite to check on your daughter. She was just preparing to put on her dress when you entered.

You inhaled sharply and tears stung your eyes as you took in her beautiful face--she almost seemed to sparkle. "You look beautiful, baby," you whispered.

"Thanks mom. I was wondering where you were--I almost sent one of the girls to come get you."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

You crossed the room and hugged her tightly. You helped her into her dress, zipping up the back and looking in the mirror with her.

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Nervous," she admitted.

"Don't be. You're marrying a great man. You have nothing to be nervous about."

"Were you nervous on your wedding day?"

You chuckled lightly. "Not even a little."

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "I knew I wanted to marry your father and I knew he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for me--nothing else mattered."

Charlie smiled and you saw some of her nerves fall away. "I wish daddy was here right now," she whispered.

"He is, sweetheart--I know it."

"How do you know?"

"I told him I needed him. He would never ignore that call."

Charlie smiled tearily and you waved your hand in front of her face to dry the tears.

"Don't mess up your makeup, sweetie."

She laughed and you placed a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks mom," she murmured.

"You ready?"

She nodded. "I'm ready."

"Then let's go."

**********

Dean's POV:

I waited patiently outside of the bridal suite for my wife and daughter to emerge. I was rendered absolutely speechless when I caught a glimpse of Charlie--she looked even more beautiful than before. Even better, she looked so incredibly happy.

I followed the bridal party as they moved towards the main hall where the ceremony was taking place. I watched as everyone began to line up and I started to wonder who would be walking Charlie down the aisle.

As I had this thought, my brother appeared with something in his hand. He looked older too, of course, but he still looked like my little brother to me.

"I think you forgot something," Sam said to (Y/N) as he handed her what appeared to be a picture frame.

She took it with a teary expression and hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Sammy."

He kissed the top of her head before embracing Charlie. "You look beautiful, Charlie."

"Thanks, Uncle Sam."

"Alright, I've gotta go sit down. Your mother will kill me if I'm late." He addressed his words to a tall young man I quickly recognized as my namesake, Sam's son, Dean.

"Better go fast, the procession is about to start," (Y/N) teased.

I'd assumed Sam would be walking Charlie down the aisle, but now I was truly confused. Perhaps (Y/N/N) was going to do it.

The doors opened and the music poured out as the wedding party began the long walk down the aisle. Before long, the only people who remained were my wife and my daughter.

"You ready, sweetheart?" (Y/N) asked.

Charlie nodded. She took the picture frame from her mother and breathed deeply. She kissed her hand and then placed it on the picture with a small smile. I looked at the picture and surprise lit up my face. It was a picture of me...

She handed it back to her mother with a smile.

"In a way, he's still walking you down the aisle," (Y/N) whispered softly.

"It's perfect," Charlie affirmed.

The wedding march began and (Y/N) squeezed Charlie's arm gently. The two of them began the walk down the aisle and I followed behind them, proud to be there for this powerful moment.

This was the proudest moment of my life--or I guess afterlife. My daughter was happy, my wife was happy--I couldn't have asked for anything better.

**********

"You didn't say it would be this awful," Charlie accused you.

You chuckled lightly. "Of course I did, but you didn't want to listen."

Charlie groaned as a contraction hit her.

You looked up at Paul, who looked slightly terrified. "You alright there, Paul?" you asked gently.

"I feel a little anxious, that's all," he reassured you.

You smiled, thinking back to the day you gave birth to Charlie. Sam's face had looked very similar to the way Paul looked right now.

Much like you, Charlie was tough as nails, and you knew she would make it through childbirth just as you had. "You're doing great, honey," you murmured.

She moaned in pain, squeezing both your hand and Paul's. You winced slightly, but let her keep squeezing. You soothed her gently, brushing her hair back from her face, much like Eileen had done for you 30 years prior.

You almost couldn't believe it had been that long. It was hard to believe how fast the time had gone by, but part of you still felt as though time was too slow. You wanted as much time with your daughter as possible, but your desire to be reunited with Dean was almost as strong. Love was complicated that way.

Charlie's nails biting into your skin roused you from your thoughts and you focused back on your daughter, trying to help her through one of the most incredible--and painful--moments of her life.

Ultimately, Charlie was in labor for a grand total of 14 hours before giving birth to a very healthy baby girl. You watched proudly as she held her newborn daughter in her arms and whispered to her much like you'd done to Charlie when she was born.

"You did so well, sweetheart," you said softly as you stroked Charlie's hair.

She looked up at you with those piercing green eyes of hers--emotion filling every part of her face. "She's so perfect."

You smiled, remembering the past as if it were yesterday. "Just like her mama," you murmured.

Tears filled Charlie's eyes and you kissed her forehead gently. You were just as emotional as she was, but you did your best to hide it. You didn't want to burden her with your emotions.

"Do you have a name picked out?" you asked.

Charlie nodded. "Lillian, after Paul's mother."

You knew Paul's mother had passed away a few years prior, so you thought the sentiment was especially sweet. "Lillian is a good name."

"Her middle name is Deanna...in honor of dad."

You inhaled sharply, surprised by how a simple name stirred up so much emotion. "He would love that, baby. In fact, Deanna is your great grandmother's name. Your grandmother named her children after her parents, Deanna and Samuel...Dean and Sam."

"I never knew that," Charlie whispered.

"I guess I never really thought about it until now."

Charlie looked up at Paul. "What about her last name?"

Charlie had chosen to keep her last name when she got married. She loved the name and the history that came along with it--plus she wanted to honor her dad, a sentiment you appreciated.

"I think we should hyphenate it," Paul answered.

"Lillian Deanna Winchester-Riley," Charlie said slowly. "I like that."

Paul smiled. "I like it too."

You smiled at the young couple and your sweet granddaughter, enjoying the moment as long as you could. There was so much you wanted to say, but now wasn't the time. You wanted this day to be nothing but happiness and love--Charlie deserved it.

**********

Dean's POV:

It had been several days since I'd last heard from (Y/N) and I was beginning to worry. Usually she talked to me pretty often, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time.

I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong, so I decided to check in on her--just in case.

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find myself in a large doctor's office. I looked around the expansive room filled with several large comfortable reclining chairs, confusion flooding my mind. I didn't see (Y/N), but I did notice several people sitting back in their chairs, hooked up to IVs and monitors, and I had a feeling this wasn't a good place.

I began to walk down the rows of chairs, examining every face I came across. It didn't take me long to figure out this was a cancer treatment facility and these patients were likely receiving chemotherapy.

At the end of one of the rows, I saw a middle-aged woman sitting alone, reading a novel. My instincts told me to go to her and as I got closer, I realized I knew the (y/e/c) eyes as well as I knew my own.

"(Y/N)," I whispered as I sunk to my knees in front of her. She looked so much older than the last time I'd seen her, but I knew without a doubt that was due to her illness. She was wearing a pretty bandana on her head to hide her lack of hair and she looked painfully thin.

It broke my heart to see her like this--and it made me angry. Out of all the people in the world, (Y/N) deserved this the least. She was a hero, for god's sake. She'd saved the world as many times as I had, and she was a genuinely good person. She didn't deserve to suffer like this.

"Hey Miss (Y/N)," a woman's voice said from behind me. "How are you feeling?"

(Y/N) looked up at the young woman and smiled. "I'm alright, Cynthia, all things considered."

Cynthia nodded, a sad smile on her face. "Any nausea?"

(Y/N) shook her head. "I guess I'm used to it."

"Alright, well let me know if you need anything. You've got another hour left and then your daughter will be here to pick you up."

(Y/N) nodded and I watched the nurse walk away. When I turned my attention back to (Y/N), I could tell she felt terrible. The chemo was killing her as much as the cancer--she was becoming a shell of the woman I loved so dearly.

I almost couldn't stand to see her like this--the urge to run was one I had to suppress. (Y/N) needed me now more than ever and I would be damned if I left her side for more than a moment. She might not know I was there, but I hoped my presence would somehow comfort her.

I pressed my lips to her forehead in a soft kiss she couldn't feel and I whispered how much I loved her. As much as I wanted to be with her again, I needed her to survive--Charlie needed her more than me right now, so I couldn't be selfish. I would have done anything to make her healthy, but this was one problem I couldn't solve.

**********

You weren't exactly surprised when you'd been diagnosed with cancer three years prior, shortly before the birth of your first grandchild. You didn't tell Charlie until after Lillian was born...you hadn't wanted to worry her.

Chemo had been hell--maybe not quite as bad as what Dean had described hell to be like, but close enough. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy. You'd spent an entire year going to treatment after treatment, seeing doctor after doctor, and feeling like death the entire time.

You'd lost more than your hair...you'd lost your happiness and your spark--you'd lost yourself. Even now, two years in remission, you still didn't quite feel like your old self. You weren't sure you ever would be...life had simply thrown too many obstacles at you, and you were bound to break at some point.

The two constants in your life during your illness had been Charlie and Sam. You weren't surprised by either one's presence and you appreciated the love and care--even when they were a bit overbearing.

Now that you were healthy again, Charlie had been focusing more on her husband and two children--having just given birth to her second child.

You couldn't fault her for it, after all you'd told her you were completely fine. The only person who saw through you was Sam, but then again, he always had.

"Speak of the devil," you murmured softly as Sam walked into the living room.

"Were you talking about me?" Sam teased lightly.

"Technically, I was thinking about you."

"Okay, good. That's less concerning. For a moment, I thought you'd been talking to yourself."

"I tend to keep those conversations internal."

"You tend to keep everything internal," he admonished as he sat down beside you.

You sighed, hating how right he was.

"So come on. How are you really feeling?"

"Honestly, Sammy, I'm okay. I'm neither good, nor bad...I just am."

Sam exhaled deeply and nodded. "Has therapy helped at all?"

You shook your head. "I can't really explain what I'm feeling to a therapist, ya know? They wouldn't understand--hell, they'd probably think I was nuts."

Sam raised his eyebrows knowingly. "It's Dean again, isn't it?"

Tears filled your eyes. "I miss him now more than I ever have before--with the exception of the weeks after he first died. I can't explain it, but somehow almost dying has made me want to let go...to be with him again."

"I can't even begin to understand how you're feeling," Sam admitted. "But that doesn't mean I won't be here to listen and do what I can to help you. I don't want you to die anytime soon, but I know how it feels to welcome death with open arms."

You laid your head on his shoulder. "It's almost as if cancer took the joy out of life. I thought for sure I'd feel it again when I got better, but it's just not there. I don't want to die, but I'm tired, Sam--I'm so incredibly tired."

He knew what you meant without you having to explain yourself further. He simply wrapped his arms around you and held you close, allowing you to cry against his chest. He would have done anything for you, but he knew this time you were beyond his saving.

**********

It was your annual visit to your oncologist and Charlie had decided to come with you. You'd been in remission for five years now, but you had a feeling of dread you couldn't describe.

Charlie must have sensed it because she demanded to come with you to your appointment. You felt a bit like an invalid, having your daughter come with you, but you knew she was doing it out of love and concern.

"How have you been feeling lately, (Y/N)?" your doctor asked.

"A bit tired, but otherwise okay," you answered.

The doctor nodded, a sad look on her face. It was a look you knew well--you'd seen it before. "Just tell me," you inisisted.

Both Charlie and the doctor looked surprised, but the doctor was the first to recover. "I'm afraid your scans aren't looking good."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath--both knowing and fearing her next words.

"It looks like the cancer is back...and it's spread."

You sighed heavily, but didn't cry--you'd already accepted the inevitability of death and you weren't surprised it was arriving sooner than you'd expected.

Charlie, on the other hand, was devastated. You heard her gasp out a soft sob, so you turned your attention to her, wrapping your arms around her to comfort her.

"How long?" you asked the doctor softly.

"With chemo and maybe some radiation, a year, maybe a year and a half."

Charlie's soft crying intensified, prompting you to hold onto her a little tighter.

"And without treatment?"

"Wait, mom--no," Charlie said quickly.

Your eyes locked on to the doctor's gray ones and she exhaled softly. "A few weeks--two months at most."

Charlie looked up at you, bright green eyes begging you for something you knew you couldn't give.

You smiled sadly, tears of your own filling your eyes. "I can't do it again, baby--I just can't. I don't want to live the last bit of my life suffering like I did with the last round. I'm 70 years old--I've lived my life, and I'm ready to let go."

Charlie sniffled. "But I'm not ready."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. We're never ready for the people we love to leave us. I don't want to leave you, but I can't stay forever."

"How am I supposed to live without you?" she whispered.

You smiled. "Luckily, you have a loving family who will support you through this. Losing someone is never easy, but you'll get through it, sweetheart. I'll be going to join your dad, so we'll both be watching over you."

She seemed to find some comfort in this, but you could still see the pain she was feeling. It broke your heart to leave her, but it was time. You were ready to go home--to Dean, who had always been your home.

**********

Telling Sam you were going to die had been one of the hardest things you'd ever had to do. He hated the idea of losing you almost as much as Charlie did, but he understood why you couldn't go through treatment again.

You'd done the rounds--saying goodbye to all the people you loved who still remained on earth. You would miss them terribly, but you knew this wasn't goodbye--you'd see them all again someday.

For the last week, you'd been in hospice. The end was coming soon and you were ready, even if your daughter wasn't. You were on enough pain medication to take down an elephant, but you managed to stay awake long enough to talk when you had visitors.

Today was one of those days. You'd already said your goodbyes to everyone else you loved, but Charlie was the one you knew would be the hardest. You'd tried to prepare her for this moment, but you knew it wasn't easy for her. You wanted to reassure her everything was going to be alright--she was going to be okay.

"I wanted to talk to you, sweetie," you said softly, interrupting your daughter's story.

"Sure, mom," she murmured, taking your hand. "What is it?"

"I'm ready to go," you whispered. "But I can't leave until you let me go."

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I'm not ready."

"Yes you are. You're the strongest person I know and you've got a loving husband who will help you through this." You squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Besides, you know where I'm going...how many people can say that?"

She nodded, sniffling softly. "Not many."

"Exactly. But you know. You know heaven is real. You know that all the people we love are there waiting for us. You know I'll always be with you--that I'll be checking in on you any chance I get. That knowledge is a gift, Charlie...the greatest gift I could possibly give you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing your words to sink in. She hated letting you go, but she knew you were right. It hurt her to see you in pain and she could tell you needed to go.

"I will always love you, Charlie. Always. You're the best parts of me--and your dad. I've been honored to be your mother, to watch you grow up, to see the amazing woman you've become. I'm so proud of you in every way a mother can be proud of her daughter. You will always be my little girl--and I will never ever leave your heart."

Charlie laid her head on your chest, letting the tears fall in earnest. "I know how much you love me, mom, and I'm so thankful that I've had all these years with you. I love you so much and I'll miss you always. But I know it's time for you to move on...and you're right, I'll be okay. So it's okay...you can let go now. Go be with dad...where you belong."

Those words warmed your dying heart. They were what you needed to hear--what you needed Charlie to say. This was it. The last few moments of your life on earth. For many people, this moment would spark fear, but for you it was a welcome relief. As you'd told your daughter, you knew where you were going--you were going home.

**********

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to find yourself in an open field. The sun was shining brightly and birds were singing softly. For a moment, you were lost--unsure of where you were or how you got there.

You looked down at your hands, surprised to see how soft and smooth they were. You'd become accustomed to the wrinkles of old age, but it appeared those were gone.

"Hello, (Y/N)," said a familiar voice from behind you.

You turned around and greeted the young man with a smile. "Jack!"

You hugged him without thinking--something you'd always done when you'd both been on earth. You supposed thinking of him as a 'young man' wasn't quite accurate anymore, but that's how you'd probably always see him.

Jack returned your embrace with a gentle smile. "Welcome to heaven."

You let go of him and nodded. "I, uhh, I think I'm a little younger than I was when I died." You held your hands up as evidence.

Jack nodded. "You are the same age you were when Dean passed away. I thought you would appreciate that."

You blinked away tears and nodded quickly. "Thank you," you whispered. You were about to ask where Dean was when Jack nodded towards a building in the distance.

"He's in there."

You glanced towards the building, eyes narrowing to read the signage above the door. A warm smile graced your face as you realized it was Harvelle's Roadhouse--the very place you'd met Dean.

You turned back to Jack to thank him, but he'd disappeared. You murmured another thank you to him, knowing he would hear you. He was god, after all.

You walked the relatively short distance to the Roadhouse, stopping outside the door to take a deep breath. It might not have been all that long for Dean, but for you it had been 38 years.

You knew you were more than ready to see him, so you pulled the door open and stepped inside. It felt exactly like stepping into the past--like being embraced by a favorite memory.

**********

Dean's POV:

I heard the doors open, but I didn't think much of it. People were always coming and going from the Roadhouse. It was a popular establishment, even in heaven.

I didn't even think anything when I heard Ellen greeting someone happily. I was too engrossed in the old western show I was watching on the TV above the bar.

It wasn't until I heard Bobby say "(Y/N)" that I started to pay attention--the spell finally broken. I looked around, trying to figure out why he'd said her name, when I made eye contact with the most beautiful (y/e/c) eyes I'd ever seen. I would know those eyes anywhere.

I jumped out of my seat and took a few steps in her direction, whispering her name like I was afraid she would disappear if I said it too loud.

She smiled at me--a warm, loving expression I'd missed more than I could express. "Hi, Dean."

Hearing her voice pushed me into action. I moved towards her at the same time she moved towards me--meeting in the middle in an embrace I'd craved for longer than I'd care to admit.

Neither of us spoke, we didn't need to. Just feeling her in my arms again was better than any words she could have said.

She looked up at me, affection warming her features, and I couldn't help but stare. She was so beautiful it hurt--if I hadn't already been dead, I would have passed out from lack of oxygen. I couldn't breathe as I looked at her--hell, I didn't even want to blink.

She reached up and touched my face, and I leaned into her caress. I'd missed the feeling of her gentle hands and I reveled in the feeling now.

She gently tugged on my head, pulling me down towards her. She stood up on her toes so she could press her lips against mine in a kiss more passionate than any we'd ever shared.

**********

Seeing Dean for the first time in almost 40 years was a shocking experience. He was just as handsome as you remembered, perhaps even more so.

You knew just by the way he looked at you that his love hadn't diminished in any way--just as yours hadn't.

Your embrace was wonderful, but it wasn't until your lips met his that you really felt the powerful emotions coursing through you. You had no desire to ever stop kissing him and you had a feeling he felt the same way.

You poured all your love for him into the kiss, and you could feel how much he loved you in return. It was more passionate--more powerful--than any kiss you'd ever shared with him on earth. You weren't sure if it was a heaven thing or simply because you'd been apart for so long.

When you finally separated, he looked at you with adoring eyes, hands still holding you firmly against him. You had a feeling he was afraid to let you go--a sentiment you shared.

He seemed to remember there were lots of witnesses around, which only made him more protective of you.

"Do you wanna see where I live?" he whispered quietly.

"Of course."

He addressed the room without taking his eyes off you. "I'm sure we'd all love to catch up and reminisce, but it'll have to wait. My beautiful wife and I have some catching up of our own to do."

You heard some knowing chuckles, which neither of you acknowledged. Instead, you allowed him to lead you out of the building and onto a gently sloping trail.

At the end of the trail sat a lovely little house, complete with a white picket fence--the kind of storybook ending neither of you had gotten in life.

Dean led you into the house and you instantly fell in love with it. There was just something about it that felt like home. Perhaps it was the man standing beside you, a hopeful look on his handsome face.

"Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," you said honestly.

He seemed to relax again, a small smirk dancing on his lips. "Wanna see the bedroom?"

You grinned. "I'd love to."

He led you down the hall to the bedroom. To your surprise, the room looked identical to the bedroom you'd shared at the bunker. You didn't expect such a simple thing to make you so emotional, but you couldn't help the tears that sprang to your eyes.

"Are you okay?" he murmured.

You nodded. "I just didn't realize how much I missed this room."

He smiled. "It's the only place that ever felt like home."

You shook your head. "Anywhere with you felt like home to me."

He turned to you suddenly, pressing his body against yours as he pulled you in for another heated kiss. His desire for you was evident in his actions and you had to admit, you wanted him just as badly.

"I'm glad you took your time," he admitted.

You pulled back, a little surprised at his words.

"Not because I didn't wanna be with you, baby. You know that," he reassured you. "I just wanted you to live a beautiful, full life."

You smiled warmly. "I did, Dean. I really did...but I never stopped missing you."

"I know," he admitted. "I was there for a lot of it."

"I always hoped you were."

He smiled at you again, before leaning down to place soft kisses to any piece of exposed skin he could.

"I have something I wanna try," he whispered against your skin.

"Mhmm?" you hummed softly.

"I wanna see if there's a limit to the number of times I can make you cum...it is heaven after all," he murmured huskily.

You gasped. "Dean!"

"Only if you want to..."

"Take me to bed, Mr. Winchester," you whispered. "I think we've both waited long enough."

"Anything for you, Mrs. Winchester...but don't rush me. Now it's my turn to take my time."

You giggled as he tossed you onto the bed, lips never far from each other's skin. You made love more times than either of you could count, trying to make up for all the lost time. Neither of you kept track of the number of times you fell apart in each other's arms...all that mattered was the love that still sparked between you, a love that even death could never diminish.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean Winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x wife!reader #dean winchester x wife reader

461 notes · View notes

allnightstay · 1 month ago

Text

Day 15 - "Are you ticklish?"

Summary: When Gojo suspects that Megumi might be ticklish, he can't resist testing his theory, much to Megumi's dismay.

Lee: Megumi

Ler: Gojo

The training field was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Megumi sat cross-legged on the ground, catching his breath after yet another intense sparring session with Gojo. Despite the sweat on his brow and the ache in his muscles, he remained as composed as ever.

Gojo, of course, looked perfectly fine. The man didn’t even seem tired, lounging casually in the grass, sunglasses glinting in the sun. "You’re getting better, Megumi. I’m proud!" he said with a grin.

Megumi exhaled quietly. “Thanks. But I still need to improve.”

Gojo tilted his head, smirking. “So serious, as always." Then, as if an idea had suddenly struck him, his smile turned mischievous. "Say, Megumi…"

Megumi narrowed his eyes. He knew that tone all too well. It was the kind that spelled trouble. "What?"

Gojo leaned closer, resting his chin in his hand like a curious child. “You wouldn’t happen to be… ticklish, would you?”

Megumi blinked. His calm facade faltered for the briefest moment - a flicker of unease that Gojo, unfortunately, caught.

"Ohhhh, that was definitely a reaction!" Gojo’s grin widened. "You are ticklish, aren’t you?"

"I’m not," Megumi said flatly, shifting slightly to put some distance between them.

“Liar.”

Before Megumi could get up, Gojo was already on him, quick as lightning. He pinned Megumi’s arms with ease, the younger sorcerer squirming under his grasp.

“G-Gojo-no-"

“Gotta confirm this for science,” Gojo said with mock seriousness. "Let’s see!"

Gojo’s fingers wriggled against Megumi’s sides, brushing lightly at first. The reaction was immediate. Megumi’s body tensed, and he let out a sharp, involuntary inhale like he was trying very hard to suppress a laugh.

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Gotcha! You are ticklish!”

Megumi glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the way his body jerked when Gojo’s fingers found another weak spot on his ribs. “S-stop-Gohojo!” Megumi’s voice broke into a strained chuckle as he twisted, trying to escape.

"What's that, Megumi? I can't hear you over all the giggles!" Gojo teased, doubling his efforts.

A rare laugh escaped from Megumi, a short, breathless burst that surprised even himself. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he thrashed beneath Gojo’s relentless fingers.

“I-Ihihi’m g-going to-kihihill y-you-!” Megumi stammered between ragged breaths, his normally stoic expression crumbling into helpless laughter.

“Wow, Megumi, you’re actually adorable when you laugh!” Gojo declared triumphantly. “You should do this more often.”

“Ahahahaa!! Sh-shut up! Go-Gojohoho come on!!” Megumi wheezed, trying to push Gojo away but with no success. His strength was sapped by the uncontrollable giggling, his body twisting in every direction to escape the ticklish onslaught.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity (to Megumi, at least), Gojo decided to show mercy. He sat back, letting Megumi catch his breath, though his grin showed no signs of fading.

Megumi rolled onto his side, panting, his face burning with humiliation. “You… are the worst…” he muttered, glaring at his teacher with a mix of annoyance and lingering laughter in his eyes.

Gojo chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “I just think it’s important to explore new sides of yourself, Megumi.” He gave a playful wink. “And now we know: Stoic on the outside, ticklish on the inside.”

Megumi groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I hate you.”

“Oh, come on, you love me,” Gojo said cheerfully, ruffling Megumi’s hair. “Don’t be surprised if this becomes part of our training routine!”

“If you ever try this again, I’ll summon all of my shikigami at once,” Megumi warned, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

Gojo laughed. “Noted. But you should know-I’d still win.”

Megumi groaned again, already dreading whatever nonsense Gojo would come up with next. But deep down, a tiny part of him couldn’t deny that the laughter, however unwelcome, had made the day just a bit lighter.

#tickle fic #anime tickle fic #augtickletober2024 #tickletober 2024 #anime tickle #anime tickling #jjk tickle #jjk tickle fic #jujutsu kaisen tickle fic #jujutsu kaisen tickle #ticklish Megumi #lee!Megumi fushiguro #ticklish fushiguro #lee!fushiguro #ler!gojo #gojo tickle #gojo tickle fic

103 notes · View notes

homesickturner · 2 years ago

Text

Take My Hand || KING GEORGE

pairing : king George ||| x reader

summary : George helps calm you in your moment of need, just as you do for him.

warnings : reader experiences a panic attack.

AN : I wrote this on a personal experience so please no negative comments <3 it was so therapeutic to write so if you enjoyed please let me know and I would love to write similar things in future. Requests are open so please feel free to drop an ask <3

———

You’d been completely avoiding your stress that had been building up in the days leading up to your and George’s coronation. Everything had been moving so fast you had not even had the time to process all that had been happening.

Between moving to a new country, leaving your family and having to adjust to the royal way of life, you had not even had a moment alone in the past 7 days.

You realized as your ladies in waiting were preparing you for breakfast on Coronation Day that you were quite nervous. You’d battled with panic attacks since your childhood and today was certainly not a good day to have one.

Never the less, you tried your best to chat with Brimsley as you ate breakfast to distract yourself.

“What did you say the color scheme was for today Brimsley,” you asked. You could feel your hands beginning to shake, the first sign of an attack.

“Gold and red, your majesty. It is to match the crowns.”

You intended on replying to Brimsley but had to put your cutlery down as you were beginning to feel quite ill. At that moment, George and Reynolds also joined you in the room.

“Your majesty are you quite alright,” Brimsley asked you.

“I’m quite well Brimsley thank you.” George answered him unaware.

You brought your hand to your chest, feeling as though there was no air going to your lungs. You were feeling an overwhelming pain in your chest.

“Y/N…my love what is wrong,” George asked frantically, kneeled down to your level where you were sat. Your vision was more blurred that usual and his voice sounded far away.

Your heart was beating a million miles an hour and you felt like you were about to faint at any moment.

Your head was pounding and you felt like you were spiraling out of control.

Your breath came in short wheezes as the nerves that had been building in you overtook your body.

“YN your alright we’re all here with you.” You heard George say. He’d taken your trembling hand and interlocked it with his. His other hand stroking your cheek soothingly.

You could hear whispering around you discussing a doctor. “N-no doctor.” You choked out. You could hear some shuffling around you, what you assumed was most of the guards leaving you, George, Brimsley and Reynolds in private.

Eventually your vision cleared slightly, although your attack had not yet run its course.

George tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Darling, I need you to take some deep breaths. Can you do that for me?.”

You began your best effort to take deep breaths along with George and eventually they became easier.

“George…I cannot do this. I cannot- I do not have it in me to rule a country.” You began to cry, your whole body still shaking.

“You can Y/N. You are so strong, we’re in this together. You and me.”

“Yes,” you let out a shaky breath.

A few minutes of deep breaths and George’s continued encouragement and you were starting to feel better.

“George, I am so sorry-.”

“Do not apologize Y/N. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Does her majesty require assistance of any kind? A doctor or perhaps a glass a water.” Brimsley asked.

“A doctor will not be needed although a glass of water would be splendid thank you Brimsley.”

“My love, as you sure you are quite alright,” George asked.

“Yes George, I am feeling well.” You smiled.

The coronation was able to go ahead as planned and George was very supportive throughout the day.

That was the day that you knew you and George would have a very happy marriage together.

#king george x reader #king george bridgerton #king george smut #king george iii #george and charlotte #queen charlotte #queen charlotte x king george #bridgerton #brimsley #Reynolds #brimsley and reynolds

1K notes · View notes

kckt88 · 30 days ago

Text

Scorched Hearts X

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Fearing for the lives of his wife and children, Aemond decides its time to return to Westeros.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Plots/Schemes, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Allusion to Smut.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4950

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, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena sat by Lirri's bedside, her head resting on the edge of the bed, exhausted after days of worry.

Her hand was wrapped around Lirri's, never wanting to let go. She had fallen into a light sleep, her body and mind worn thin by the weight of everything that had happened.

Suddenly, she felt movement beneath her fingers. Valaena stirred, blinking awake, and looked down to see Lirri’s hand twitching in her grasp.

Heart pounding, she lifted her head and saw Lirri's eyes flutter open, the faintest hint of life returning to them.

“M-My l-lady” Lirri wheezed, her voice barely a whisper.

Valaena leaned closer, her own hand trembling as she gently squeezed Lirri’s.

"I’m here," she whispered, relief washing over her. "I’m right here."

Lirri gasped weakly, trying to speak through the haze of her slumber. "Mira-want husband-she-try to kill you."

Valaena leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the back of Lirri's hand. “It’s alright,” she whispered. “Mira’s dead. She won’t harm anyone ever again.”

A ghost of a smile touched Lirri’s lips, though she was still too weak to do more than whisper. “You-cut throat?”

Valaena’s expression softened, and she shook her head gently.

“Not exactly. There were-many cuts.” Her voice was low, but there was a sharp edge of darkness to it.

Lirri’s eyes filled with a hazy recognition. “I-drank wine-to save you,” she rasped, each word a slight struggle.

Valaena froze for a moment, her mind catching on what Lirri had said. “Wait-you knew it was poisoned? Yet you drank it anyway?”

Lirri gave a slight nod, her hand shaking as it squeezed Valaena’s in return. “I have-great love for you, my lady. I-I keep you safe.”

Tears welled in Valaena’s eyes, spilling over as she choked back a sob. “Oh, Lirri. How can I ever repay you for what you’ve done?”

Lirri’s weak fingers trembled in her grip, but the strength of her heart was clear as she whispered, “You-make me feel part of family. I-not alone-when I’m with you.”

Valaena’s chest tightened, her breath hitching as she looked at the woman who had risked everything to protect her.

"You are family, Lirri. You always will be." She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "But surely, there’s something I can do for you. Anything."

Lirri’s tired eyes flickered with a faint, fragile light, her grip loosening slightly as she whispered, “Just-live-my lady.”

Valaena nodded, her heart breaking as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Lirri’s fragile body.

She held her close, careful not to cause her any more harm, and felt Lirri's arms tighten weakly around her in return.

For a moment, they stayed like that—silent, holding each other—sharing the unspoken bond that had grown between them.

Valaena felt an immense sense of gratitude, knowing that no matter what the future held, Lirri would always be a part of her heart and her family.

"I will live, Lirri," Valaena whispered through her tears. "And I’ll make sure you always have a home with us."

Lirri closed her eyes, resting in the warmth of Valaena’s embrace, her breaths shallow but steady.

They were both tired, but for the first time in days, there was hope again.

Over the next few days, Lirri slowly regained her strength, though she still looked fragile, her movements careful and deliberate.

Valaena visited often, always accompanied by the children.

One morning, little Elaena toddled into the room, her tiny hands clutching a small bouquet of wildflowers.

Valaena followed close behind, her eyes warm as she watched the scene unfold.

“Fowers for Lirri,” Elaena declared proudly, holding out the flowers with a beaming smile.

Lirri, who was sitting in an armchair near the window, smiled tenderly as she took the flowers from Elaena’s outstretched hands.

"Thank you, sweet girl," she said softly, bringing the flowers to her nose. The simple gesture brought a brightness to her eyes.

Rhaegar then stepped forward, holding a small honey cake. His cheeks flushed slightly as he offered it to her.

“It’s honey cake,” he said, a little shyly. “It was bigger, but-I ate some.”

Lirri chuckled, her voice still weak but filled with affection. She reached out to take the cake, smiling as she asked, “Did you make it yourself?”

Rhaegar looked down at his feet, clearly embarrassed. “I did-but mama helped.”

Touched by their kindness, Lirri reached out and wrapped her arms around both Rhaegar and Elaena, pulling them into a gentle hug.

Her voice was soft as she whispered, “Shekh ma shieraki anni”

Elaena pulled back slightly, blinking up at Lirri with curiosity.

“What that?” she asked, her little face scrunched up as she tried to make sense of the unfamiliar words.

Before Lirri could answer, Rhaegar spoke, his voice quiet yet confident. “My sun and stars,”

Lirri’s eyes sparkled with surprise and joy. “You learn my language?” she asked, her voice tinged with emotion.

Rhaegar gave a small nod, still a bit shy. “Only a little bit. Mama helps.”

Lirri smiled warmly, her gaze shifting to Valaena. “That makes me very happy,” she said, her eyes softening.

Valaena, standing by the door, smiled gently. “I’m not very good at it, but it’s a start.”

Lirri shook her head slightly, her voice filled with quiet affection. “You are very kind, my lady,” she repeated, “You make me feel great joy in my heart”

As time passed, Lirri began to tire, her energy fading despite the warmth she felt from the children’s presence.

Valaena noticed and gently helped her to her feet, guiding her toward the bed. She pulled the sheets up and tucked them in around Lirri, making sure she was comfortable, with enough water by her bedside.

“I feel bad-you look after me,” Lirri whispered, her voice a little ragged but full of sincerity.

Valaena shook her head, her voice gentle. “It’s what family does. We look after one another.”

Lirri’s eyes filled with emotion, her breath hitching slightly. “My lady, you are-special. You make my heart-go very fast,” she confessed, her cheeks colouring ever so slightly.

Valaena chuckled softly, smoothing the blankets over Lirri’s frail form. “Get some rest,” she whispered. “I’ll have Arro pop by later if you’d like.”

Lirri’s blush deepened, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I would like that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Later that night, Valaena lounged on her bed, a book resting in her lap, the warm glow of candlelight casting soft shadows across the room.

She was lost in the pages when the door burst open with a violent force, making her jump as Aemond strode in, his eye wide with urgency, his face tense and flushed.

"Get dressed and get the children," he demanded, his voice sharp and frenzied.

Valaena sprang to her feet, alarmed. "Why? What’s wrong?" she asked, her heart pounding as she hurriedly put the book aside.

"We're leaving," Aemond snapped, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Now"

"L-Leaving?" Valaena’s voice trembled. "But Daenys is too young to fly, and Lirri has only just recovered—"

"We're not flying," he interrupted, his tone curt and final.

"But—" Valaena began, her mind racing with questions.

Aemond cut her off, his patience clearly fraying. "-Damn it-Do as you’re fucking told, Valaena!" He all but shouted, his frustration boiling over.

Swallowing the sting of his words, she nodded quickly and moved to dress. As she did, two maids hurried into the room, swiftly packing her belongings into trunks with frenzied hands.

Valaena watched them, her anxiety mounting. She glanced at Aemond, his figure rigid, his jaw clenched.

"What’s going on?" she asked again, her voice softer this time, almost pleading.

Aemond didn’t look at her as he barked, "Get the children and Lirri. Arro will escort you to the dock."

"T-The dock?" Valaena echoed, confusion and dread swirling in her chest. But before she could ask any more, Aemond pushed her out of the room, urgency radiating from every movement.

Arro was waiting for her outside. "Come, my lady," he said, his deep voice calm but insistent.

Valaena wasted no time as they hurried to the children’s nursery. She gently woke Rhaegar, who rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep.

"Mama, what’s happening?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

Valaena stroked his hair, her own nerves barely contained. "We need to go, sweet boy. Come on."

Rhaegar struggled to keep his eyes open, his small body still heavy with exhaustion. Seeing this, Arro scooped him up into his arms.

Meanwhile, Elaena had begun to cry, clinging to Valaena’s gown with her tiny hands.

She refused to let go, her sobs quiet but heart-wrenching, making it a struggle for Valaena who was trying to reach for Daenys.

Arro stepped in again, offering to carry Daenys, who was still fast asleep, undisturbed by the commotion.

Valaena nodded, grateful for his help as she shifted Elaena into her arms, trying to calm her daughter’s whimpering.

Rhaegar, now more awake, looked up at her with wide, anxious eyes. "Where are we going, Mama?" he asked.

"I’m not sure," Valaena admitted, her voice tight with worry.

"B-But m-my toys!" Rhaegar protested, looking around the nursery as he clutched his stuffed dragon teddy.

Before Valaena could answer, the same two maids from earlier entered the room, hurriedly shoving the children’s belongings into trunks.

“Bankey-” whined Elaena.

Valaena pulled back the covers on Elaena’s bed and took the stitched bedraggled blanket and handed to her daughter who rubbed it over her face and held it close.

Arro, always calm and collected, urged them, "We must go, my lady. Hurry."

“Where are we going?” asked Rhaegar his arms clasped around Arro’s neck.

“Have no fear little dragon-everything will be ok” replied Arro softly.

Arro cautiously led the way out of the nursery with Rhaegar and Daenys held securely in his arms, pausing every so often to check that it was safe.

Valaena followed close behind, cradling Elaena, who had stopped crying but still clung tightly to her.

They made their way through the quiet, dimly lit halls to Lirri’s chambers. When they arrived, Lirri was already waiting on the bed with a leather satchel, dressed and alert despite her weakened state.

"Come quickly, Lirri," Arro urged. "We must go-"

Valaena quickly reached for Lirri’s hand, helping her to her feet, the satchel slipping from her grasp until Valaena caught it and handed it back.

“Thank you my lady” whispered Lirri.

Together, they followed Arro out of the manse and into the dark streets, moving swiftly but cautiously.

Valaena’s heart raced, her mind spinning with unanswered questions.

"Where is Aemond?" she asked Arro, her voice filled with rising panic.

"Do not worry, my lady," Arro replied, his tone steady and reassuring, though it did little to ease her growing fear.

The streets of Qarth were eerily quiet, the moonlight casting long shadows as they hurried toward the docks.

Soon, they arrived to find a single ship waiting for them.

Valaena quickly grasped Lirri’s hand and pulled her out of the way as a horse and cart sped past, only for it to come to an abrupt stop, the coachman jumped down and men from the ship immediately began loading the trunks and supplies onto the ship, moving with a sense of urgency that only deepened Valaena’s dread.

Arro, carrying the children, led them aboard.

Valaena looked around, her thoughts racing. "What about Vhagar, Silverwing, and the hatchlings?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Arro paused, setting Rhaegar down and gently handing Daenys to Lirri. He pulled back a tarp to reveal the hatchlings, each in wooden cages.

"Already aboard, my lady," he said.

Valaena felt a wave of relief wash over her, but it was fleeting.

"Just what exactly is going on?" she pressed, her voice tense with fear and frustration.

But Arro didn’t answer. Instead, he moved swiftly to the captain, giving instructions to make ready to sail.

"No! I’m not leaving without Aemond!" cried Valaena, her heart pounding in her chest.

But then.

"Daddy!" Elaena said, her tiny voice cutting through the night.

Valaena turned to see Aemond boarding the ship, his eye scanning the deck before settling on them.

He strode toward them quickly, taking Elaena into his arms. "Tell the captain to set sail," he ordered, his tone firm.

Valaena watched him, her fear momentarily soothed by his presence, but the gnawing dread hadn’t left.

"Aemond, will you tell me what’s going on?" she asked, her voice low and urgent.

"Let’s get the children and Lirri settled below," Aemond replied, avoiding the question for now.

He gave the command to unfurl the sails, and the ship began to move away from the dock, the sails catching the night breeze as they set out into the dark waters.

Once the children were settled with Lirri in a quiet cabin below deck, and Arro stood guard outside, Valaena’s nerves had not settled.

She glanced at the sleeping children and then looked to Lirri, who gave her a small, reassuring smile despite the exhaustion still evident in her eyes.

But Valaena couldn’t find peace. Aemond had been tense, evasive, and now her mind raced with unanswered questions. She stood, determined to get answers.

She found Aemond waiting for her outside the cabin, his posture rigid, as if he were still preparing for a fight.

He didn’t speak, simply reached for her hand and guided her to their assigned quarters. Once inside, he turned to her.

"Wait for me," he said in a low voice, his gaze intense but revealing little else.

Valaena opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, he quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him.

She stood there, stunned for a moment, before she began pacing. The rocking of the ship beneath her feet only heightened the unease brewing inside her.

She moved to the small port hole and peered out into the night. Above the dark waters, she could just make out the silhouettes of Vhagar and Silverwing flying overhead, their forms cutting through the sky.

Valaena closed her eyes and reached out through her bond with Silverwing, and in return her dragon gave a loud roar, the sound almost soothing as it echoed through the air.

It felt like an eternity before Aemond finally returned. The moment he stepped inside, Valaena rushed him, her words coming out in a frantic tumble.

"What’s going on, Aemond? Why did we have to leave so suddenly? You need to tell me—"

Aemond closed the door, cutting her off with a quiet, yet firm finality. He moved to the bed, his face serious, and sat down.

"We needed to leave," he said softly, but there was a weight to his words. "I couldn’t risk anything happening to you or the children."

Valaena blinked, her confusion only deepening. "What are you talking about?" she asked, crossing her arms in frustration.

Aemond let out a long breath before he began. "For the past few weeks, Arro and I have been quietly looking into Mira’s background. Where she came from-" His voice held an edge, like he was still unravelling the pieces in his mind.

"Mira?" Valaena frowned, her mind going back to the maid who she had killed. "I was sure she said she was an only child, and both her parents were dead."

"That much was true," Aemond confirmed. "But what we found out was that she was part of a cult."

"A cult?" Valaena's voice rose with disbelief. "What do you mean, a cult?"

Aemond stood and began to remove his weapons and cloak, his expression darkening. "They believe those who ride dragons are gods and they worship them as such."

Valaena’s mind spun with the implications. "Targaryen’s have always believed themselves closer to gods than men, but what does that have to do with Mira?"

Aemond sat down heavily, his eye sharp as he spoke. "Mira wasn’t just a servant. She was some kind of chosen one. Her purpose-it seems, was to bear a dragonseed."

Realization dawned on Valaena like a cold wave crashing over her. "She wanted you to give her a child," she whispered.

Aemond nodded grimly. "As far as we know, only a Targaryen can ride a dragon-”

“But there are no riderless dragons” replied Valaena.

“Well, if she had succeeded in killing you, then Silverwing would have been without a rider."

Valaena felt her heart sink. "You said you feared for the children?"

"Yes," Aemond said, his voice tight with anger. "Mira was part of a cult. Which means there are other members. Any one of them could have taken her place. And if they couldn’t, they might have resorted to other methods-"

"-Like taking one of the children," Valaena finished, her voice hollow as the gravity of the situation hit her.

Aemond nodded, his expression hardening. "Our children have more dragon's blood than a dragonseed. They could have taken one of the children for sure-"

Valaena began pacing the room, her thoughts spinning faster. "No," she said after a few minutes. "They wouldn’t have taken one of the children. It would be pointless."

Aemond’s brows furrowed. "Why?"

"They would have had to wait years for a child to grow up. Why wait when there’s someone else of a more appropriate age?"

Aemond stared at her for a moment before the realization hit him. "You mean me."

Valaena sat on the bed and nodded. "You’ve already sired children, proving yourself fertile. It takes a woman nine moons to birth a child, but a man can sire as many as he wants, as often as he can. They could have sent Mira to seduce you, then they might have taken you—forced you to become some kind of sex slave to seed multiple women."

Aemond sat in stunned silence for a moment, processing what Valaena had just said. "Did you just say I’d have been made into a sex slave for multiple women?" His voice was incredulous, but there was a glint of amusement behind his eye.

Valaena, realizing how absurd the thought sounded, couldn’t help but smile. "Yes. Why?"

Aemond grinned wickedly as he lay back on the bed, pulling her down with him. "I think it might have been a mistake to kill Mira you know-" he teased.

Valaena swatted at him playfully, rolling on top of him. "Oi! Cheeky! This is serious!"

Aemond laughed, his arms wrapping around her. "You know you’re the only one for me," he whispered.

Valaena smirked, leaning down to kiss him. "Oh, I don’t know. You seemed to like the idea of being chained up and used for your seed."

Aemond hummed thoughtfully. "Only if you’re the one chaining me up, my love."

She kissed him again before moving off him and lying beside him, her head resting on his chest.

"But why did we have to leave so suddenly?" she asked, her tone more serious now.

Aemond’s hand rested in her hair as he spoke. "I can’t prove it, but it’s possible that the Prince of Qarth knew about the cult or was involved in some capacity"

Valaena’s eyes widened in disbelief. "You’re kidding."

"I wish I was," Aemond said darkly. "But I’m not, you remember how generous he was when we first arrived-"

“-In exchange for the dragons guarding the city”

“No one is that generous, not without purpose anyway-” said Aemond firmly

Valaena let out a frustrated laugh. "We’ve lived here almost five years, and we’ve never had an issue with him."

"A snake in the grass, waiting to strike," Aemond said, his voice low with suspicion.

Valaena chuckled softly. "That’s what Daemon used to say about your grandsire."

Aemond rolled his eye. "How original of him."

"You should have heard what else he called him," Valaena teased. "He had a whole litany of insults reserved exclusively for Otto."

Aemond smirked. "I can only imagine."

“He had a fair few for you and your brother’s too” said Valaena thoughtfully.

"The point is," Aemond said, his voice turning serious again, "I couldn’t take the risk. We had to leave before something happened, so me and Arro started planning, just in case we needed to make a hasty get away-"

“Could have told me about it first” exclaimed Valaena.

“I did not mean to worry you, but I couldn’t risk anyone finding out about it-”

“Are you sure the people on this ship are trustworthy, how do you know their not part of that cult?” asked Valaena furrowing her eyebrows.

“Because there is a way to identify them”

“How?” asked Valaena curiously.

“They each have a small tattoo, an upside down triangle, with a line through it that connects all three points, they called it a dragons eye”.

“Mira had one, on the inside of her wrist, she told me she got it when she used to be a slave” said Valaena thoughtfully.

“If she ever was one-” muttered Aemond.

“If what you’ve told me is true then I’m glad were out of there”

Aemond propped himself up on his elbow and gently stroked Valaena’s face “If anything had happened to you or the children, I swear I would’ve turned Qarth into the next Harrenhal-”

“-And if anything would’ve happened to you then I too would lay waste to the entire fucking city-lets see the cult worship dragon riders after that-”

Aemond nodded. "-They may have wanted the blood of the dragon, but they’d be ill-prepared for the fire that would have reigned down upon them-"

The journey back to Westeros stretched on for over four long, arduous months. The sea was often unforgiving, with unfavourable weather forcing the ship to take a number of detours.

After navigating away from the coast of Qarth, the first major stop came at New Ghis, where they resupplied for the next big leg of the voyage.

The captain, cautious and superstitious, refused to sail through the Smoking Sea, forcing them to make the long sail around the ruins of Old Valyria.

As the ancient, ominous shores passed in the distance, the sense of history weighed heavily on both Aemond and Valaena.

As they both knew their ancestors had come from those same lands, which were now reduced to ruin and stories of legend.

At Volantis, they spent a few days ashore, grateful for a chance to stretch their legs and rest. The massive Black Walls of Volantis were an imposing sight, but the city’s exotic bazaars and culture offered a welcome distraction.

They resupplied once more and continued onward, stopping briefly at Lys, where the children marvelled at the turquoise waters and brightly coloured buildings, and then at Tyrosh, before heading to Pentos, a place where Valaena knew Daemon had spent much of his time.

The sail was tough on everyone. The children, though excited at first, quickly grew restless on the ship. Aemond and Valaena did their best to keep them occupied.

Rhaegar, despite his young age, showed an eagerness to train, so Aemond often spent time sparring with him and Arro on the ship’s deck whenever the weather permitted.

Elaena and Daenys were harder to manage, though their toys provided some comfort. Daenys, who was thriving as a lively and curious babe, babbled constantly and squealed with joy whenever her father or mother came near.

Her chubby hands would often reach for Aemond, who would lift her up high, her giggles filling the salty sea air as well as copious amounts of drool as she was teething.

The long journey proved beneficial to Lirri as by the time they reached Pentos, she had fully recovered from her poisoning, the colour returned to her cheeks, and her energy restored.

She was a strong presence in the children’s lives, often playing with them or telling them stories from her homeland.

Above the ship, Vhagar and Silverwing patrolled the skies. The dragons frequently skimmed the sea’s surface, hunting young whales and sharks, before retreating to distant shorelines to feast.

They would always return, their shadows passing over the ship in lazy circles, providing a constant sense of protection.

Of course, there were ways to pass the time aboard a ship as Valaena and Aemond often found themselves sequestered away in their cabin together, as they indulged in their shared pleasure, with Aemond often fucking Valaena into the mattress, his cock pounding inside of her in a series of deep penetrating thrusts.

Gods he was ravenous, his desire for her unrestrained and relentless, reaching for her multiple times in a night or any time the mood struck him, not that Valaena was any better, especially when she would watch him train and the sight of the sweat running down his lithe muscled frame made her cunt throb with need, so she would often drag him off to their cabin and ride him like an unclaimed dragon.

With moontea in short supply on the voyage, it came as no surprise that by the time they docked in Pentos, Valaena’s belly had begun to swell with another of child of Aemond’s.

Aemond was quietly proud, and the thought of his seed taking root again drove him feral with need while Valaena pretended to be outraged but secretly she was pleased, the mother in her already loving the child growing within her.

Pentos, with its majestic palaces and beautiful canals, was a sight to behold, though it didn’t take long for Valaena to become displeased with the city's reliance on slavery.

"I want to free them all," she confessed to Aemond one evening, her tone resolute as she watched the slaves toiling under the warm Pentosi sun.

Aemond listened, understanding her desire, but he gently reminded her, "It’s an admirable goal, my love, but it’s not something we can accomplish now. Mayhaps in the future, one of our descendants will rise to such power, and they’ll be granted the title of Breaker of Chains."

His words calmed her, but the fire of rebellion flickered in her eyes.

Still, their time in Pentos, surrounded by luxury and beauty, reinvigorated them all. After several days of rest, it was finally time to board the ship once more for the last leg of their journey.

As they stood on the deck, with the Pentosi sun setting behind them, Valaena looked out toward the horizon, her hand resting protectively on her growing belly.

The next stop was King’s Landing. It had been years since she had been home, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much had changed in their absence, and if her mother and brothers would be happy to see her or furious at the circumstances of her disappearance.

Aemond stood beside her, his hand finding hers as the ship began to pull away from the dock.

The familiar sense of duty settled over him as they sailed toward Kings Landing, the unknown future stretching out before them like the endless sea.

Rhaenyra sat at the head of the council table, growing increasingly frustrated as the voices of her advisors filled the chamber with bickering.

They argued over which petitions from the smallfolk deserved the most attention—some clamouring for a reduction in grain taxes, while others argued for relief from the high cost of bread.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms had been listening for what felt like hours, though her patience was waning.

Across the room, Daemon stood lazily against one of the stone pillars, his invisible eyebrows furrowed in irritation as he picked at his nails.

He seemed just as uninterested in the squabble as she was.

At the table, Jace amused himself by spinning his council ball in its plate, barely paying attention to the ongoing arguments.

Lord Corlys Velaryon, sitting beside him, tapped his cane impatiently, the rhythmic sound echoing in the chamber.

Rhaenys, the hand of the Queen, was absentmindedly fiddling with her rings, only half-listening as Thaddeus Rowan, the Master of Laws, and Isembard Arryn, the Master of Coin, continued to debate heatedly.

Across the table, Daeron Targaryen, the Commander of the City Watch, adjusted his golden cloak with idle hands, clearly bored as was grand maester Gerardys.

Rhaenyra could take no more. Slapping her hand on the table, the sound reverberated through the council chamber, silencing the arguments instantly.

"Enough!" she declared, her voice sharp with authority. "The realm has known nothing but peace for nearly six years under my reign, and I will not risk the ire of the smallfolk by increasing taxes on food and grain. There has to be another way to save coin."

Isembard Arryn, always quick to speak his mind, leaned forward with a wry smile. "Perhaps you should start with your brother, Prince Aegon, Your Grace. The money you'd save from rationing his wine habit alone would fill the coffers three times over."

A few of the lords around the table, Staunton and Darklyn among them, coughed to cover their amusement.

Even Rhaenys cracked the barest hint of a smile, though Rhaenyra only sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration.

Before she could respond, the large double doors of the council chamber burst open. Ser Erryk Cargyll strode in hurriedly, his expression tense.

"Apologies for the interruption, Your Grace, but Vhagar and Silverwing have been sighted."

The room fell into stunned silence. Rhaenyra, rising to her feet, stared at him, her heart quickening. "W-What did you just s-say?"

"Vhagar and Silverwing, Your Grace-" Ser Erryk repeated, out of breath. "They are flying over Blackwater Bay, above a lone galleon—flying the banner of a three-headed red and black dragon-"

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen

90 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 1 year ago

Text

Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Slow burn, pining, kiss.

Note: EEEE! Here is chapter two of my little mini-series! Thank you all so much for your patience for this update, to say it has been hard has been an understatement. An odd thing to put into the notes of a fanfic, but From the River, to the Sea. 🇵🇸

Chapter 2: Unfamiliar Changes

The next few days were the same routine as usual, but with a new addition; A man who had been at deaths door, recovering in your bed.

The lighthouse, you knew.

You knew the way to light it, tend to it, care for it. It had been your life for many years ever since your Pa had died, leaving its responsibilities to you.

It had been him who taught you everything. He who had raised you to know what you now do, to do as you now do each day. And you were thankful. Thankful to not be married to a Fishermans son, or market boy at a young age, to squeeze out child, after child, in a marriage that had no love or care but rather a societal duty.

But now, there was a man in your home.

A man on your small, little, isolated island which you sought refuge in. An island and isolation that had been all you had known, and yet now, here he was, laid in your bed with hair like spun silk that lay around his head, a violet eye you had only heard in the tales on shore, a scarred cheek and sharp mouth.

Was he a pirate?

You had heard of those, but for some reason, he didn’t seem to be as brash and roguish as those stories either. And whilst his presence was not all begrudged, it did throw your small little world into a loop. So with the duties of old, came the duties of new.

You would rest, only shortly, wake, and tend to the lamp, the storm slowly moving away inland, but the winds too high to take your small boat alone, or send your pigeon with a letter to alert them of the wreck and lone survivor.

Thereafter, you could come back inside, fix yourself a tea, and here began the new routine; you would make two instead of one.

Two plates or bowls of food.

Two cups or glasses of water, or tea.

Two of everything.

One for you.

And one for the man.

A man who still had not told you his name.

That was until that evening.

The winds had begun to yield, but the soft grumbling of thunder still prevailed in the near distance.

You were eating the last of your stew together, though this time, he was seated at the table. You having dragged the only other chair on the island down the many stairs of the lighthouse to the cottage.

He was still rather pale, and wheezed and coughed on occasion, but after his many days in your presence, you realised that he was not pale because of his ailment, but rather, his skin was just as white as the porcelain William’s wife owned. His cheeks however, gained some colour, and his lips were no longer cracked and dry, but now hydrated.

And plump.

And soft.

And-

“-Aemond.”

The spoon you were holding clinked back onto the side of the bowl.

“Pardon?”

“My name,” The man put another spoonful of stew into his mouth, chewing before swallowing politely, “Is Aemond.”

You tested the name on your tongue. It was definitely not a common name from around your part of the world.

“I take it you are a long way from home?” You chewed on a chunk of potato, watching as the man nodded.

“Aye.”

“Your ship-“

“-Vhagar.” So that’s what its name was, “Sunk to the bottom of the sea, I presume.” His lips pulled down at the sides.

You nodded solemnly, “Was your family-“

“-No. No family. Just me and my crew.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly before nodding, “I’m sorry. Though we have the Gods to thank. They favoured you when they washed you ashore.”

Aemond, the man before you, scoffed, “Favoured. Sunk my ship and my men. Drowned me.”

You sucked your teeth, feeling slightly guilty about your choice of words, “Yes, and yet you are here. I prayed-“

“-You prayed?”

A nod, though his gaze seemed more intrigued than mocking, “To the Drowned God. Prayed to anyone who would listen to spare your life.”

You watched as the corner of his lip twitched, “And why should a Lady such as you, pray for a sailor such as me?”

“I’d hardly like to deal with a corpse on my beach." You stirred your stew, "And I am no Lady, I have told you this.”

The snort from his nose made way into a smile that was contagious.

At least you could be blunt.

And in some ways, you supposed that he liked this bluntness.

You shared your meal together quietly, the crackling of the fire and sound of rain and occasional thunder outside. You found, much to your displeasure, that you did not mind having his company after all.

He did not talk to fill the space, and seemed to think deeply before he spoke, at least when he was not irritated or slightly offended by your own remarks. All in all, he was a welcomed presence in your modest home.

And that was what scared you.

“Do you often have drowned men wash ashore?” His spoon was delicately placed in his bowl, bread devoured shortly after given to him. The way in which he ate, the manner in which he sat back, rod stiff, indicated to you that he came from some form of high society, far higher than you, and likely came from money and wealth that you could do naught but try to imagine.

You smiled coyly, “You’re the first. An achievement to some end, I am sure.”

The corner of his lips pulled again, yet this time, it developed into a full smirk, “Then I am honoured to have been the first, Miss.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, and you had to look away.

The way in which he spoke, the way his voice became deep and smooth like the whiskey in your cupboard, had sent shivers down your spine with the implication that perhaps there was a double meaning to what he said.

To what you had said.

But then he continued, “And how does a woman of your stature become the keeper of this Lighthouse?”

“My Pa. He was the keeper before I. Taught me all there was to know. It was just me and him on this island for a long, long time, and now it is just me.”

“Is your father-“

“-Dead.”

“I see.” Aemond nodded, “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be.” You gave him a small smile, “He died doing what he loved.”

A silver eyebrow raised above the man’s seeing eye, “And what was that?”

“Drinking on the job.” You poked your tongue in your cheek to stifle the laugh as you watched Aemond’s composure become flustered, “It’s okay,” You reassured him, “You can laugh. My father was not a solemn man. I like to think he enjoys my humour.”

A hum was all you received, though he did not smile as you had hoped.

You had not fully seen him do so yet, and although there was glimmers of a more playful and relaxed man, you wondered in that moment if perhaps he was simply just a rather stern and serious sailor after all. That his nature was to be stiff, and bold, and unbendable.

And if he was to be that, a small flicker inside of you wished to make him bend.

Gods, what was wrong with you?

Had you grown so lonesome in your isolation that the first man to wash upon your shore, literally, was whom you would grow some sort of desire for?

Sure, you were no stranger to pleasure, chasing your own peaks with your hands as often as you’d like, of course, if it did not endeavour to endanger the care of the lighthouse. And now, that a man was sat before you, kept in the confines of your home by storm and ailment, you wished to taste what it truly meant to be pleased.

It had of course crossed your mind once or twice on your rare travels to shore. Speaking to the locals in shops or on the street, friends of William, or any decent man who cast you a glance. You had thought about it seriously, allowing some sort of dalliance to form, to warm a mans bed and then leave on the morrow to go back to your life of solitude.

In fact, it had almost happened.

A sailor named Dalton Greyjoy had caught your eye on the occasions he would be on shore at the same time as when you were. He was sailor from a well known, and well to do family. He came and went as he pleased, and it was no secret that he liked his women. Dalton's hair came below his ear, curling slightly atop his head, the colour as black as night and with his eyes to match his hair; a piercing, deep black which captured and lured anyone who caught his gaze.

And you had caught his, on more than one occasion, and each time, he had tried to woo you. Tried to offer a trip on his sturdy ship which carried more than one hundred men. Or a tour of his home which lay on bountiful lands on shore.

He had even offered a drink in the local tavern, and a meal, with a desire to speak to the ‘beautiful woman who keeps my ship from ruin’.

And you had thought on it, had almost given in, and when you had rejected him the last time, you had meant to offer him refuge on your island, should he ever so need it. If he was ever so inclined to have a tour of your own homestead, of your lighthouse which kept him from ruin.

But when you had moved to tell him thus, he was gone, back to the seas for the Gods only know how long, perhaps months, before he returned to shore. And that had been two months ago, and you had almost kicked yourself at the missed opportunity of having a man warm your bed, and then leave.

The convenience was lost.

You were under no impression that it would be anything more than a release for the two of you, and in your eyes, it was perhaps, a perfect arrangement. Yet, you had strung him for too long, and the seas had called him once more.

You had thought to wait to look for his ships arrival as it passed from you to shore, and lowered its anchor within eyesight. You had thought that perhaps at the sight of it, you would send your pigeon to her, the large ship, or to shore to send word of your request of his presence. But then, you thought, perhaps you would make a quick stop to the markets, weather permitting, and keep your eyes widened for the dark black hair which you sought.

But now, as the man you had come to know as Aemond, grew stronger with each day, the desire to meet your desires with Dalton faded, and were now replaced for the desire of a man who was the stark opposite.

No black hair, only silver. No black eyes, only lilac.

Would his lips be as soft as they looked?

Would he hold you passionately? Whisper in your ear? Give you pleasure that you had only read of?

This was what you thought of, thighs clenching as you pulled the old wick from the lamp to replace it with a new one, careful to not spill any oil around the lamps enclosure or yourself. You were exhausted as you lit the flame, night crawling towards you rapidly.

There was not much rest that you could get when sleeping on the worn down lounge of your home, mind reeling at the thought of the handsome man not too far from you in the warmth and plush of your bed.

Once you were positive the lamp was fine and well lit, you trudged down the stairs, eyes struggling to stay open as you made your way back to the cottage, the wind blowing your hair roughly as you closed the door behind you.

The fatigue dragged you down, limbs feeling as heavy as stone as you moved to make yourself some tea, feeling all the more exhausted than before, eyes half shut.

Once your tea was made, you sat on the couch and stared at the fire, blowing the steam away and sipping on it to warm your chilled bones. The lighthouse was cold inside, no warmth but the lamp, and despite wearing your warm layers, the cold still nipped you to your core.

There were no thoughts as you moved half asleep around your home, pulling the heavy waxed coat from your shoulders to place on the hook by the door.

Your boots came next, and then your socks, and finally you pulled away at your dress, untying your stays as it slid down your hips to the floor.

You trudged to your room, having extinguished the lamps and candles in the cottage, leaving the fireplace to burn through what was left of the night.

It was dark as you pulled back the sheets, mind in memory and eyes already shut, as you slid into bed in only your slip, pulling the sheets up to your neck as you lay on your side.

Then sleep came just as quickly as your eyes closed.

It was hot.

Too hot.

There was a warmth that radiated around you as you slowly rose to consciousness.

Then, came the weight.

A weight of something wrapped around you, behind you, heat seeping into your spine. You blinked sluggishly, confused as to what it was as you shifted, feeling whatever that warmth was shifting with you. Solid.

Arms.

Two arms.

One under your head, the other draped over your middle, hand splayed across your stomach as your back was pressed into the flush of someones chest.

Not someone.

Aemond.

You jerked, suddenly awake and out of the bed, looking down at the man who looked tiredly up at you, corner of his mouth lifting slightly as he fought away a smirk. Heat rose up your neck and into your cheeks in embarrassment.

You had been in bed.

With him.

Tucked into him.

Oh Gods.

Your mouth opened and shut as your brain misfired, unsure of what to do our say.

Do you apologise?

Gods, you had been so tired you hadn’t even realised.

You were suddenly mortified at the thought of what he must now think of you.

He must-

“-If you want to get into bed with me, all you must do is ask.” Came the low timbre of Aemond, who now smirked freely at you.

Your heart raced in your chest as you became flustered, a small squeak escaping your lips.

Aemond’s eye bore into your own as you stood there, bare feet on the cold flagstones below, chest heaving as you were at a loss of words. His eye then roamed lower, taking in your appearance as you felt the heat of his gaze blanket over you.

It was then, that you realised, you were in nothing but your thin shift.

“Gods. Fuck.” You swore, turning quickly to throw on an old dress, foregoing your skirts, stay and stockings.

You kept your back to him as you hastily did up the many buttons, suddenly cursing each and every one of them as your fingers struggled to do them up the more you become flustered, all the while you could still feel his heated gaze upon you from the bed.

You uttered an embarrassed apology, too ashamed to even raise your eyes to look at him, before you fled from the cottage, forgetting your coat, and not even doing up the laces of your boots as you shut the door behind you and raced towards the lighthouse.

You had never quite climbed the steps as fast as you had in that moment, desperate to get away from his salacious gaze, and your burning embarrassment.

What had you been thinking? Climbing into bed with him like that? He must think you desperate. Depraved. Unkempt.

Gods be good.

The embarrassment made tears prickle at your eyes.

Though the lamp in the lighthouse was fine, and there was no true reason for you to monitor it, the worst of the storm having moved away, you did not return back to your cottage. You stayed in the cold, no coat and shoes half tied, shivering in the stone walls of the lighthouse to avoid the mortification of that morning. And yet, despite trying to avoid him physically, there was no possible way, you had tried, to avoid thinking of him.

Thinking of his touch, how warm he had been behind you, how his large hand had completely spanned across your middle as he held you to him, how his fingers had twitched and pulled as you wriggled in first wake. How he smelt of the sea, and sweat, the stew you had cooked him, and the smell of your own sheets, but beneath it all, there was his natural scent, something earthy and musky and like sandalwood that surrounded your every waking moment.

If it wasn’t for his legs and his near death, you would think the man was a Siren.

You thought of how cold he had been when he washed ashore, how pale and almost blue he looked, and now he burnt hot, and although he was still pale, the flush of life coloured his cheeks and lips. His lilac eye devouring you every chance he had.

At first you had thought you were mistaken, that he was simply looking at you, but now you were sure of it. His eye, the seeing one, unclouded by injury and simmering a bright lilac, watched you almost always half-lidded and ablaze with something you now thought could perhaps be lust.

Gods.

You buried your head into your hands, deeply exhaling before standing up straighter, trying to erase the images and thoughts of him from your mind, but it was hopeless. He was all you could think of, all you could smell, or see behind your eyelids, and you yearned to reach out and touch him. Hold him. Caress him.

Your thighs instinctually squeezed together and you sighed, feeling a wetness that had settled between them.

Gods be good, you were in trouble.

You shivered again, rubbing your hands together as you looked out at the sea, mentally cursing yourself for not having more than two chairs on the island, but you had never needed more than that.

Your legs ached from not having sat in the hours that had passed, and you had turned to pacing the small landing back and forth to try and keep yourself warm.

A soft clunk came from the bottom of the lighthouse.

You mustn’t have shut the door properly.

You continued your pacing, back and forth, breathing into your icy palms as you tried to warm them, mind straying to a body of warmth that you knew, if you pressed your palms against him, would warm in an instant. Your hands coming beneath his tunic to splay against his stomach, working their way-

The sound of rustling came from behind.

You spun on your heel in fright, breath caught in your throat to find Aemond behind you. Now standing straight, the man towered over you, looking down his sharp nose at your shivering form. His hair was slightly wet, stuck down to his shoulders and dripping from its ends onto the floor of the lighthouse. The tunic he wore, stuck to his skin where spatters of rain wet the material.

In his hands, your coat.

“Gods be good.” You cursed at him, hand immediately shooting out to press against his forehead, having to rise slightly on your toes to reach, “Have you gone mad? You’ll catch cold and grow ill again.”

Snatching your coat from his hands, you threw it up and around his shoulders, pulling it together tightly at the front, watching as his brows furrowed at you.

His hands caught your wrists as you fussed over him, and you immediately could no longer meet his eye. The warmth of his hands seeped into your bones, and a barely contained sigh fell from your lips.

Aemond was so close, so close to you, you could feel his warmth, smell his-

“Go back to the cottage before you become feverish again.” You tried to pull your wrists away from his hands to push him back to the door, but the man did not budge, his grip only tightened.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Came his low response, jaw tensed as he watched you.

You swallowed, looking anywhere but his eye, “No.” You lied terribly, hoping he couldn’t feel the way your pulse quickened at your wrist, “I have to tend to my duties.“

“-You’re a terrible liar.”

You bristled, heat rising in your cheeks again before you met his eye.

Exhaling shakily, you tried again to get him to release your wrists with no avail.

“Please let go of me, Sir.”

Aemond’s cheek twitched, before finally he let go, and you begrudged his warmth leaving you the second he did.

As his hands dropped to his sides, your eyes flitted to the exposed skin of his chest, if only for a moment, where his tunic was ripped down the middle. He moved, arms coming up again as he pulled your coat from his shoulders, stepping towards you suddenly.

You stiffened, feeling his warmth envelop you and the subtle scent of salt and sandalwood engulf you as he wrapped you in your coat, pulling it tightly against you at your front. Your arms were trapped beneath it as he kept his hold on you, the coat pulling tighter as he stepped closer.

“You’re cold.” He whispered, head ducking slightly as he looked at you, long strands of silver cascading over his shoulder.

Okay. You were sure of it.

Perhaps he was a Siren.

And now he was going to drag you to the sea and-

You watched in a confusion, or horror and delight as his head began to dip down towards your face, eye watching you intently as you held your breath.

Oh Gods, was this really happening? Was this man-

“Sīr gevie.” Came a deep purr from the back of his throat, and there it was again, that half lidded gaze.

You parted your lips instinctually, feeling his nose brush against yours, your eyes fluttering as you looked down to his lips which were parted a hairsbreadth away from you, “I don’t know what that means.” You whispered, feeling his breath fan across your lips warmly.

“Beautiful.” Came his response, less purring than the last, more of a whisper, more delicate, like the silk that spun his hair, ready to break.

His face loomed closer, the tip of his pink tongue coming to wet his lips, and all you could think of was how you wished to close the distance, to press against him, taste him, have him.

Your lungs ached from the breath you had been holding, and a sudden gust of wind knocked at the windows of the lighthouse. It seemed to have broken the spell, jerking you away from the man in front of you, who blinked longingly at you.

Swallowing thickly, trying to ignore the ache in your core, you uttered, “I need to prepare supper.” Before you dashed away from him and down the stairs, almost tripping over your half laced boots in the process.

As you wound down the stairs, you felt a pang of guilt leaving him up there.

Would he be fine to get down himself?

What if he grew ill? It was cold, and he had no coat, and you had just-No. If he had made his way up those stairs, then he could surely make his way down them.

You wasted no time preparing dinner, darting about the kitchen noisily as you began to prepare your meal, cutting the vegetables on the chopping board, and moving for some more dried meats to add with it, soaking it in some bone powdered broth you had made days earlier.

When the door of the cottage opened, and then clicked shut, you ignored the mans arrival, keeping your back to him, pretending that you were all too busy preparing the dinner to spare him a second glance, and not only that, you were far too engrossed of thinking what was coming next, and not at all how his lips might have felt on yours.

You heard him settle at the table by the fire, and without looking, cast your voice behind you, “I still have my fathers belongings,” You told him, voice shy, “Seemed a waste to be rid of them when he passed. You may fit them. I’ll let you look through the trunk after supper so that you may have some cleaner, warmer clothes.”

A hum, and then, “Thank you. You are a gracious host.”

You blushed at his compliment, thankful that your back was turned to him so that he would not see you shy once more. Once your meal was cooked, you brought it over to the table for the two of you, including a plate of some of your scones, as well as the jam from Celia to go with them after.

It was a mostly silent affair, a tension strung between the two of you, pulled taught as the minutes went by. That was until-

“You are not married.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement of fact.

You blinked, taking your eyes away from your meal as you looked up at him.

He was already watching you.

But there was nothing malicious about his statement, more so curious as to why.

Aemond continued, “You are a beautiful young woman, a shame that you are not out in society.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling vulnerable at the turn of conversation.

You knew it was unheard of a woman of your age to be unwed, and not only that, alone in a usual mans position. You knew that the townsfolk at shore talked about it, whispers behind your back at why that was.

There had been a cruel rumour once that you simply enjoyed the coming and goings of the many different sailors who came to and from the port. It didn’t help that Dalton was not quiet about his interest in pursuing you, at least, not as his wife anyway.

“I am content where I am.” You sighed, “I have no desire to be flaunted on a mans arm as merely decoration. I have a responsibility to those on shore and on sea, and I doubt any man in town would know more about the mechanisms of working such a lamp than I do. They would be more of a burden than a blessing.”

Aemond blinked before lifting another steaming spoonful of food to his lips, “And do you not grow lonely on this little island?”

Did you?

You didn’t think you did.

At least, not until he arrived on your shore.

“Not at all.” And unconvincing lie, or perhaps not a full one, “William comes to bring my reprieve, and I go to and from shore as I wish for the whims of societal company.”

The man swallowed his mouthful of food, head cocked as he looked at you, “William?”

“An old friend of my fathers.” You explained, watching as he relaxed at the explanation, “Brings food and goods to me when I cannot get them my own, which is more often than not. His wife and daughters join him here on occasion.”

Aemond hummed, “It is a shame you have no feelings of loneliness.”

“A shame?”

The corner of his lip twitched, “I thought you might have enjoyed my company.” Before you could respond, he spoke again, “Though, perhaps it is not a shame after all. There is no husband that I need worry about.”

Heat rose into your cheeks fast, and a flush of hurt crept up your throat.

Of course he would make a comment about you being unwed.

He was just like the others in town.

“You mock me.” You grit angrily, hands twitching on the table.

You watched as a flash of regret creeped over his face.

“I don’t.” His tongue darted out to lick at his lips again, the hungry look in his eye not at all for the food on his plate, “I would worry that my attempt to court you would be burdened by a disgruntled husband.”

Court you.

Court.

Your stomach turned tightly, and you found yourself pushing your chair behind you quickly as you stood, grabbing your empty plate as you moved to take it to the kitchen, unsure of what to say, mouth dry and mind reeling.

As soon as your back turned, you heard a deep chuckle behind you, making your cheeks flush with heat once more. You did not even bother to clean your plate, instead dumping it into the dry sink before you snatched your coat off of the coat hook and moved to open the door.

“You cannot avoid me forever.” Came his low purr, and would if you tried.

The door thumped behind you as you swept yourself outside.

By the time you finally returned to the cottage, the night had flown away from you, having spent the majority of it trying to cool the heat in your body that he had stoked, resting your cheeks against the cool class of the lighthouse, anything to soothe the molten blood that coursed through you.

The storm had mostly passed, and your home was quiet as you snuck back inside, darkness filling the majority of the space bar the fireplace as you pulled your coat from your shoulders, back facing the room.

When you turned to walk further inside a small gasp pulled into your lungs.

“You’re awake.” You blinked at Aemond owlishly, watching as he leant back on the small worn couch, his long limbs stretched out in front of him by the fire, with one arm resting against the back.

“I am.” You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to do or say.

Damn your anxious mind, reeling in circles at the thought of him, and his desires and if he desired you as much as you desired him. And what if-

You shook the thought away, “Well, you must be tired. You need to rest so that you may go home. The storm is passing, and I’d wager that you could return to shore now.” You wrung your hands together.

You didn’t want him to go, but you knew it was logical.

He would have to leave. He would have to go home. To his family. To his friends. To his land. And then, you would be left alone with the spiralling 'what if's' of his stay.

“You speak of fatigue as if you sleep more than I, and do less.” Came his pointed remark, “I am well aware of my need to recover, and my abilities.”

Speechless.

That was what you were.

The fire crackled loudly between you as you watched him shift, moving to lay himself down onto the couch which was comically too small for him. His long legs stretched over the arm, feet dangling almost to the floor whilst his head was tucked at an awful angle on the opposite arm.

He looked like a doll that had been carelessly tossed onto the couch by a child.

“You need rest.” He mused, eye roaming over your body shamelessly, “I shall sleep where I am.”

Your brows furrowed, “You can’t suggest that you wish to sleep there.” Your hand pointed to where he was uncomfortably lain, “You do not fit. You shall see no rest and I will have to nurse you to health once more.”

“All the more reason for me to stay here.” His eye slid shut, seeming to make a point of sleeping on your lumpy and aged lounge.

You guffawed at him and his brazen flirting, mouth hanging open as your hands moved to your hips, “Go back to bed.”

His brow lifted, but his eye stayed shut, “A command or request?”

You blinked, “A request, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Will you be joining me?” Came his purr, eye cracked open at you, the bright lilac having turned as stormy as the sea once had been.

“No.”

Another hum, something you had grown used to by now, his eye sliding shut, “Then I shall stay put.”

You stormed towards him, looking down at him, trying to not notice how soft his hair looked, or how the pale skin of his chest looked like a cozy place to-

“Really, Sir.” You sighed, exacerbated, “I must implore you to sleep in the bed tonight. You will only hurt your neck and back. I am far smaller than you, and-“

“-Sīr byka.”

The language was smooth, the r curling in the front of his teeth, all creamy, and soft like syrup and warm. It sent heat straight into your core.

“What does that mean?”

His eye opened again as he sat up, “Would you like to know?”

Gods, he was infuriating.

“Yes.” You grit out, “Or else I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I said you were little.”

Embarrassment curled in your chest, but not only that, something else that sent heat striking through you.

You tried to blink it away, “An obvious observation. And the bed would fit you perfectly well, if only-“

“-Nyke kessa mazverdagon ziry-“

“-Would you stop that?” You snipped, chest heaving as you blushed, watching as the tall man pulled his legs down and sat up, looking at you predatorily.

You were in trouble.

Every hair on your body stood up as he watched you beneath his lashes.

“Stop what?”

You wet your lips, “T-that.”

“What, byka ōños?”

“That!” You pointed, running a hand through your hair, “You- You make a mockery of me.”

His head tilted, “I do no such thing.”

“You do.” You countered, looking anywhere but him, “You speak in tongues that I do not understand. For all I know, you could be throwing insult at my person. I know that I am not as educated as you-”

“-Do you want to know what it means? You only need ask.”

“What does it mean?” You breathed, watching as he stood from the couch, sucking all the air from the room as his head slowly came up to your height, then finally looming over you down his nose.

“What does ‘what’ mean?”

“Fine." You huffed, "You shall stay on the couch, and I shall send word tomorrow-“

“-Little light.”

You lashes fluttered against your cheeks as you felt him step closer to you, your chest heaving as one of his hands reached out to caress a lock of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You shivered as his fingertips grazed a path down your neck, his eye intent on you.

“W-what?”

“Byka ōños,” Aemond purred, “It means ‘little light’.” He took a step closer to you, his chest brushing against yours, warmth immediately seeping into your dress as you craned your head to look up at him, "Byka perzys.”

“And what does that mean?” Your voice was quiet, unsure, the air around you crackling with the tension that had been building for days.

“Little flame.” He translated, large palm moving behind your neck as he gripped the back of it softly, fingers tangling in your hair. Your breath hitched as he moved forward, his eye on your lips, yours on his.

“Byka jelevre.”

“What does t-“

Aemond’s lips crashed into yours hungrily, silencing your question. You squeaked, eyes widening before they slowly slid shut, hands coming to the front of his tunic as you fisted them tightly, rising on your tip toes to meet him. His kiss melted you, a fire being stoked in your gut steadily as the fingers in your hair tightened.

Then as sudden as it came, it stopped.

You were both panting, looking at one another as his tongue wet his lips.

“Fuck.” He growled, before crashing into you again, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as you sighed into his embrace.

His other hand wrapped around your waist pulling you tightly against him as his tongue licked at your bottom lip. It was unfamiliar, uncertain, and your lips parted in a small gasp, immediately feeling his tongue lick tentatively at your mouth.

You were still, frozen as you thought of what to do as the hand on your waist moved to pull at your skirts hastily, dragging them up your legs.

And then, it was as though the fog was cleared, and your mind re-emerged. You pulled back with a gasp, hand gripping the wrist that was pulling at your skirts, your eyes searching his face with uncertainty.

And then, slowly, it dawned on him, realisation washing over his features.

“You’re untouched?” Came his quiet breath.

You swallowed, shutting your eyes to avoid his prying gaze, too afraid of his next reaction as you answered him.

“Yes.”

The warmth of his body left yours, and you almost subconsciously followed it, eyes reopening.

He looked at you with a new expression you could not quite understand.

Your chest ached to be held again, to feel his want and his hands pressed against your body. To feel his chest against yours, his lips on your own, his tongue teasing yours as you sighed into it. You wished to feel the calluses of his hands, and smell the salt and sandalwood that lingered around him.

You felt stupid for having told him, for having stopped him. You wished you hadn’t. You wished you had just let him have his way-

“-Apologies, Miss. I did not mean to overstep.”

Any thought that you had vanished, and you found yourself gasping for air like a fish out of water.

“I shall retire for the evening.” He took another step back, his eye not once leaving yours as he shifted his body towards your bedroom, “But if I do take your bed, I would like to earn my keep around your home as I recover.”

If this man did one more thing out of the ordinary, you thought your head may spin off your neck.

“Your keep?” You echoed, feeling the tingle in your lips from his kiss. '

Did he mean-

“-Work around the island. Cleaning, gardening. Anything that you need or want from me. I am yours.”

You felt that his last offer meant more, but you did not have the wherewithal to ask for elaboration, nor did you have the courage.

Gods, what was it about this man that turned you to syrup?

You nodded slowly, watching as relief washed over his features, “It is much appreciated, though I will be hard pressed to find things for you to do yet.” You shifted on your feet, hands wringing together once more, “I shall send word soon of your survival to shore. My pigeo-“

“-No.” Aemond said hastily, to which he recovered a moment afterwards, “No need until I am hale and healthy again. There is no point for false hopes, I may turn on the morrow.”

You shook your head, a small laugh falling from your lips, “I see no possibilities of you turning to meet the Stranger tomorrow. You-“

“-Please.” Came his voice once more, rough and quiet, and more strained than before, “Let me stay dead for a while longer.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@blackswxnn @marihoneywk @targaryenrealnessdarling @namelesslosers @aemondsfavouritebastard @dahlias-and-marigolds @aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @jemmaagentofshield @malfoytargaryen @bellaisasleep @aaprilshowers @assortedseaglass @elizarbell @xpersephonex @lijeno @likeanecho344 @coffeeobsessedtrencher @diannnnsss @lexwolfhale @notasockpuppetaccount @at-a-rax-ia @spinachtz@marysucks-blog @generalkenobitrash @zenka69 @shygardengalaxy-blog @kittendoll05

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd fanfic #lighthouse!Aemond #asumofwords lighthouse #sailor!aemond #LighthouseKeeper!reader #sailor!Aemond x reader #Sailor!Aemond #LighthouseKeeper!Reader #Asumofwords Lighthouse #shipwreck!aemond

419 notes · View notes

magicalbats · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober Day 13: Size Difference

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7129

Warnings: Afab!/reader, size difference, noncon, abduction, bathing, aphrodisiacs, drugging, bareback, stomach bulge, gendered terms

A/N: okay, look … I’ve been deeply in love with the Daythunder Eremites since we got our first glimpse of them right before 3.0 dropped. Did I lose the plot a little bit on this one? Maybe. But I’m actually obsessed with this NPC. I even went around and marked their locations on my map with the little meat pin. ✋😭 I quite literally ran OUT of available pins because of it. Not one single person better question why I picked him for this prompt instead of Enjou (I was extremely tempted tho, trust and believe that xmdkxk)

⭐

It was quickly becoming apparent that you were in a bit over your head with this commission. Between the wailing researchers on the ground, the frightened Sumpter Beast making a lumbering escape for the near distant tree line, the attacking Eremites and the damaged cart that had inexplicably caught fire at some point, the situation was clearly spiraling far out of your control.

Gripping your sword so hard it hurts, you try to take stock of what was happening and regroup. There wasn’t enough time to fully process it though. The small stretch of road — if you could even call it that — had devolved into complete and utter chaos in the blink of an eye, and you have to lurch to avoid the incoming swing of a huge battle ax before you can make any sense of it. But if there was one thing you knew, intrinsically, it was that there were too many of them for you to take on alone. It was too much for a single adventurer no matter how talented or skilled you may have been.

You dance back, not even daring to breathe as you agily avoid the weapon swinging at you with so much force you not only hear the violent displacement of air but you can even feel it too. This was incredibly dangerous. One hit from that ax would shatter bones, possibly even crush organs, and you’d likely be dead before the day was through. You had to get away but — pivoting your body, you steal a split second glance at the helpless researchers. They were cowering at the feet of a girl, no older than yourself, who was holding them at blade point while the other Eremites quickly worked to unload the cargo before it all went up in smoke with the burning cart. You needed to get away but so did they.

Clenching your teeth, you duck to avoid the next swing and dive under that huge, muscular arm to hit the dirt. You feel him shift behind you, alter the momentum and start to bring the heavy ax down right on top of you. Bracing for the destructive impact, you throw yourself forward into a stiff roll seconds before the ground erupts in a spray of dirt and grass that showers you in grime even when you skid to a halt some few feet away. Your heart feels like it’s going to slam right out of your chest as you frantically stumble to your feet on jelly filled legs, almost dropping your sword in your haste.

You couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to avoid that hit …

With a choked, gasping wheeze, you force yourself into a dead sprint, ignoring the thrumming terror that threatens to debilitate you as you dart across the road right towards the Eremite girl. You may not have been able to save their precious research but you could still save them!

“Run!” You scream, making her turn. It was too late though.

Leaning your shoulder into it, you slam into her so hard both of you go flying through the air to hit the ground in a heap. It knocks the air out of you (and her, by the sound of it) but you quickly roll away and struggle to your feet once again. There’s so much adrenaline pumping through your system you hardly even feel yourself moving, numb to everything going on around you, but you’re still distantly aware of the resulting scramble when the two researchers jump up to make a break for it. Good. At least now you could worry about yourself.

But you don’t quite make it that far.

The huge man with the ax is suddenly right on top of you — you hadn’t even seen him coming! Your heartbeat stutters a surprised beat and you just barely get your sword up in time to block his next swing. Unfortunately the force of it knocks your blade from your screaming hands, sending it pinwheeling up and away at such a high arc you could never hope to snag it and he doesn’t stop long enough to let you watch it fall back to the earth.

One second you’re stumbling from the impact. The next he’s snatching a fistful of your hair to yank you towards him, and you collapse at his feet on your knees. Sharp, stabbing splinters of pain shoot through your body but it’s quickly overshadowed by the agony of him using his hold on your hair to pull you upright, damn near taking you right off the ground. Seething, you force your eyes open to glare daggers at him when he bends close and puts his face inches from yours in a clear, obvious display of intimidation.

“That was a stupid thing to do.”

“I’ll kill her!” The Eremite girl shrieks, scrabbling to get up. “I’ll skin her alive and put her head on a spike!”

You go stockstill, lungs constricting painfully when you feel her reach for you. But, to your squawking surprise, the huge man physically drags you away from her and closer to himself like you were little more than a toy they were fighting over.

“Wait, Siri. Not yet.” He warns, the low growl in his voice growing stronger, and you sway in his hold with a suffocating feeling of dread. What a terrible situation to find yourself in. “Let me have this one. You can play with her when I’m done.”

“Do you really think I want your leftovers?” She snaps, both of them completely ignoring the way you wheeze between them. “She shoved me onto the ground, Aziz! She’ll be lucky if that’s all I do! I’m going to pluck out her eyes and - -“

“Enough, you two!” A third Eremite barks over. Still panting raggedly, you carefully turn your head even when it tugs at your hair to find another towering man standing some few feet away with one of the salvaged crates clutched against his chest. Idly, you realize the cart was almost completely engulfed in flames now and rapidly turning to smoldered ash. The guild was going to get such an earful from you if you made it out of this alive.

“But - -“

“I don’t want to hear it!” The other man cuts her off again. “We need to get this stuff out of here. Now! Those two researchers escaped so we need to be long gone before they send in backup. Bring the adventurer if you want, I don’t care. Just get your asses in gear.”

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Siri shoots you a quick look that is no less chilling behind the red cloth hiding her eyes before stiffly pushing into motion. You watch her walk away to join the others, your stomach cramping with nerves, and it only gets worse when Aziz tugs on your hair to bring your attention back up to him again.

“Looks like you got lucky today. In more ways than one, I’d say.” Pausing, he puts his head to one side to send the braid over his temple swinging, and you can’t quite shake the impression of being a helpless rabbit caught under a tiger's paw. He was so massive, and the way he looks at you ... “I admit, your swordsmanship was pretty good. You’ve got good instincts even if you don’t have the strength to back it up. Tell me, little adventurer. Where do you hail from?”

You draw a steadying breath and try not to regurgitate everything that was in your stomach right down to the bile. “Mondstadt. I’m originally from Mond.”

“I see. You’re a far way from home then. I hope no one there is going to miss you too much.”

~*~

They lead you into a camp, blindfolded and with your wrists bound behind your back, but you recognize the distinct sounds of daily life for what they are immediately. You can hear children shrieking and laughing, weaving in and out of your peripheral senses in what could only be play. There were women murmuring nearby, speaking so low you couldn’t make out what they were saying when the grizzled voices of older men seemed to drown them out. You can just make out what you think must be a dog snuffling around your ankles in a quick burst of sound before darting away when they drag you further in and, somewhere, a goat bleats.

There’s sand under your feet now so you knew you were no longer in the lush rainforests of Sumeru but, rather, the desert. You’d never gone this far west before, precisely because of the grip the Eremites had on the area. Having heard plenty of stories about just how cutthroat they could be in the harsh environment they called home, you had wanted to avoid crossing paths with them if at all possible but a lot of good that had done you.

The acrid, dry air seems to rob you of the ability to breathe and you stumble, gasping against the grit and oppressive heat, when Aziz shoves you through what must be a doorway. Abruptly you’re enshrouded in a blanket of cool that is so noticeably different from the temperature outside it actually makes you shiver at the sudden change. He doesn’t give you a chance to truly appreciate it or sigh out in relief though, simply pulling you by the arm even when you nearly trip over your own aching feet.

His hand feels impossibly huge on your neck when he finally palms the back of it and shoves you down to sit on the floor, forcing your legs to splay under you at an awkward angle. Panting, you cautiously shift to settle on your butt even as he reaches up to loosen the knot he’d tied behind your head. It falls away with a quiet slither of fabric, and you blink into the gloom of what you quickly realize is a tent. His tent? You couldn’t be sure, and you weren’t entirely certain you wanted to know.

“You don’t have to do this …” You whisper into the stillness, and he just scoffs.

“You don’t even know what it is I’m going to do yet. Be patient, little adventurer from Mondstadt. You might like it.”

You very much doubted that, but hold your tongue on the slim hope that compliance might see you through this in one piece. Even if your arms hadn’t been secured behind your back it was obvious you still wouldn’t have been much of a match against someone like him. He’d already thoroughly cemented that back in the forest. Because not only was Aziz incredibly tall, he was also filled out and thick with heavy muscle mass. Just one of his biceps looked like it was greater in width than your thigh and you fully believed he could crush you like a grape if he so chose. With no other option available, you grudgingly acquiesce when he turns you around to face him.

He was still wearing his own blindfold, that rich red brocade hiding his eyes, but you recognized the way he looked at you even without being able to see them. You’re not entirely sure how he — or any of the Eremites — got around as well as they did without the use of their sight, and a tremor tears through you when he sedately reaches out to touch the side of your face. Not so much as a split second falter or other sign of hesitation. It was like he knew exactly where you were, like he could see through the material, and a fresh curling tendril of unease snakes through you at the thought of his people having some divinely appointed sixth sense. Was that why their strongest warriors covered their faces?

“You’re filthy.” He suddenly announces, and you know it’s not just the grit of dirt and sand he’s talking about. You were thoroughly drenched in sweat from the trek out here as much as your earlier standoff with him, and it was now quickly cooling to settle a chill over your sore body.

Jaw clenching, you turn your face from him. “Is it really any wonder? You almost took my head off back there.”

Chuckling softly, Aziz drops his hand to rest on his bent knee where he’s knelt in front of you. “Sorry about that. If it counts for anything, Siri almost took it too.”

You send him a slow, wary look. Was that really supposed to make you feel any better?

He just offers up an indifferent shrug of his broad shoulders though, and then moves to straighten up. Watching him walk over to a big clay pot standing sentry a few paces away, you momentarily toy with the notion of running while his back was turned but immediately quash the thought. The grim reality of the situation was not lost on you. Not only did you have no idea where you were and even less of an idea how to get back, you also had no working knowledge of how to survive in the desert. Even if you could get past him and then all the other Eremites outside, escape the camp, what would you do then? No food, no water, not even any supplies or extra clothes to keep you warm when night inevitably fell. You’d be a sitting duck for any hungry predators out on the prowl if hypothermia didn’t catch up to you first. You’d heard how cold it gets after the sun sets out here, and you weren’t sure if you were brave enough to take the chance …

It doesn’t matter either way. Before you can even consider changing your mind Aziz returns with a shallow bowl and a rag which you regard suspiciously when he sets it aside. You could guess where this was going, but it still shocks you a great deal that he then reaches for the front of your clothes like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be doing, and without so much as an ounce of shame to show for it either.

“Wait - -“

“Hush, adventurer. I won’t hurt you so long as you play nice and remember not to bite the hand keeping you alive.”

Swallowing hard, you numbly watch him take the front of your guild uniform in hand and casually pop it open with a sedate tug that sends buttons flying in either direction. They fall near silent across the worn tarp that serves as the floor of the tent, and you draw a slow, shuddering breath. Try not to linger on the way his heavy knuckles brush against your chest while he pulls the shirt open to expose the silk chemise underneath. Distantly, you start to wonder if he’ll untie your hands just to get you undressed, thinking you might have a chance to flee after all — but then he rips at the fabric, giving you a sudden jerk at the force, and your mouth drops open in shock when it simply tears from you in a ragged panel.

Realizing he’s just going to peel it off you in pieces, you purse your lips into a tight line to stop yourself from crying out as he shreds your blouse to tatters and ribbons that fall to the floor around you in a pathetic heap. He does the same with the chemise and then your long skirt, pausing only long enough to yank away your boots, hose and, finally, your bloomers. You don’t give up the last without a fight but he doesn’t even seem to acknowledge all your squirming and twisting while he easily manhandles you to relieve you of your final dignity some moments later.

Seething, you primly squeeze your legs together to hide your most intimate spot from him but it barely gives Aziz pause. One of those massive hands reaches out to clamp around your ankle and he none too gently drags you across the floor to leave you laid out on your back. Ignoring your incensed hissing, he shifts and settles into a cross legged position in front of you before reaching calmly for the bowl.

“You remind me of a cat, you know that?” He murmurs, dipping the rag into the water to soak it through as you struggle back up into a sitting position.

“One of the Rishboland Tigers, I hope.”

He outright laughs. “No. You are like a very small, very feisty kitten that hasn’t yet learned her place in this world.”

You stiffen at that, narrowing your eyes at him, but he pays it little mind. Squeezing out the rag of excess water, he stretches his hand out towards your face again and you stubbornly try to crane your neck to escape it. Aziz just follows you though, and you give a startled little squawk when he finally presses the cool cloth into your cheek.

“That’s cold!”

Softly shushing you, he drags the rag over your skin to wipe away all the sweat, dirt and grime coating your face. Much to your grudging dismay you quickly find that it actually felt rather nice and he was not near as violent or brutish about it as his appearance would have suggested he’d be. It’s almost gentle, in fact, and you slowly find yourself relaxing into it with a stilted sigh. You would be glad to be clean again, even if you had to endure the humiliation of being washed like a child to achieve it.

Cautiously roving your eyes up when he starts to work his way down your neck, you take a moment to really study him. You couldn’t say for sure if he was looking back at you or if the brunt of his attention was focused on the task at hand, but you try not to let that uncertainty dissuade you. After all, if he was bold enough to undress you like this then surely he could handle a bit of staring. And you think, with no shortage of surprise, that he was probably handsome under that mask. His jaw was smooth and well defined, housing a pair of full, kissable lips that purse slightly when he scrubs at a splotch of dirt on your throat. You still didn’t like him very much after he’d almost smashed you to bits with his giant ax and then kidnapped you, spirited away into the inhospitable desert, but you couldn’t exactly deny what was in front of you.

Maybe if you’d met under (vastly) different circumstances …

“Do you like what you see?”

You sniff and look away to take in the rest of the tent. “Hardly.”

Aziz chuckles again while he rinses out the rag in the dish before bringing it back to your skin once again. “Such a grumpy little adventurer … what are you doing so far away from home? I’ve heard Mondstadt is very different from Sumeru.”

“It is,” You relent, hating yourself for leaning into his touch when he caresses over a throbbing spot on your shoulder. You must have banged it on the ground rolling around earlier, or maybe it was from plowing into Siri. “We don’t have any deserts or great big forests. Well … none like what Sumeru has, anyway. No tigers to worry about, either. All we’ve got are wolves, but they don’t usually attack humans.”

He hums a quiet sound of acknowledgement, taking a moment to massage into the aching muscle under his heavy fingers when he sees the pinch in your expression. “You miss it.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and you sigh. “Considering where I’m at right now, yeah. It’s kind of hard not to.”

“Grumpy.”

You try not to scowl at that, knowing it wouldn’t get you anywhere even if you kicked up a fit and fought him tooth and nail. At least he was being nice about it. That was one good thing in all this, you think — only to suck in a quick breath as he drags his hand lower to wipe your chest clean. You know it’s coming but it still pulls a quiet whimper out of you when the rag passes over your breast, catching at the nipple to send a static jolt through your body. Shirking, you try to twist away from him but it’s useless with your hands tied behind your back and he just follows you. The way he kneads and squeezes at the swell of flesh under the guise of cleaning you up doesn’t escape your notice, and neither does your reaction to it. But it horrifies you more than anything else and, steadying yourself, you try to rein it in. If ever there was a worse time for your baser urges to start taking over, this would have been it.

But rather than lingering, Aziz soon switches to the other side which he gives the same level of patient attention to. A handful of groping squeezes, a brief pinch to the nipple and then he’s moving on again. Your breathing starts to pick up as he works his way lower, swiping the rag under your breasts to lift and nudge them against his thick knuckles. His skin is rough and calloused on yours wherever it touches, and you hate the way it makes you feel. Hot and flushed, and just ever so slightly sensitized in his wake. A shudder tears down your spine when he starts running the wet cloth over your stomach.

“W - wait —“

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t even so much as pause, and you try very hard not to yelp when he rather boldly swipes his hand from your bellybutton straight into the soft cradle of your thighs. Eyes widening in mute horror, you rock back and try to squeeze your legs shut to no avail. He just leans forward, invading your space again as his unoccupied hand comes up to wrap around the nape of your neck. You can’t quite believe it when he yanks you backwards and eases you onto the floor with perfect control that stops you from slamming your head back. It would have been quite impressive if only your heart didn’t feel like it was going to slam right through your ribcage and, mewling a desperate, frazzled noise, you make a last ditch effort to twist away. But he just holds you in place, keeping you pinned by the neck, while he bullies your thighs apart with the other hand.

A faltering, highly embarrassing sound bursts out of you when the damp rag presses firm against your cunt at last. He pauses there a moment to squeeze at you through the cloth, almost idly grinding his palm down and making you twitch, before finally dragging it further down to run along the slit in your body. Left wheezing in the aftermath, you just lay there and try to wrap your head around this confusing turn of events. You couldn’t make sense of it. Although you’d expected it on some level, wasn’t this still a little … strange?

The way he cleans you is almost so formal it seems to border on ritualistic. Like he was performing some kind of ceremony or rite. The horrifying thought that perhaps he was preparing you for sacrifice crosses your mind and you can’t quite stop from cowering when he pushes up to kneel on his knees beside you. But, to your squawking surprise, all he does is grab hold of your ankle again and uses it to pull you over onto your stomach like you were little more than an uncooperative toddler.

“H - hey! I’m not a child you know!”

“A great relief, I assure you.”

Flushing red hot, you force yourself to grow still and just lay there while he wipes across your back and arms, your sides, running down to your ass and then lower still to get the backs of your legs. It was an altogether humiliating experience and not one you’d like to repeat any time soon, but you couldn’t deny you felt nice and fresh by the time he finally finishes up a small eternity later. Squeaky clean, even. It’s a great improvement from your earlier state, at least, and you don’t protest when he hooks a hand under your arm to help you sit back up.

Deeply ruffled, you try to reorient yourself while he moves to dispose of the used water somewhere at the back of the tent. You once again consider making a run for it but … oh, it would be another matter entirely if they hadn’t blindfolded you! That was the only thing stopping you from trying. The very real possibility you’d pick the wrong direction and just end up wandering deeper into the desert without even realizing your mistake until it was much too late keeps you firmly rooted to the spot and certainly not because of the dull thrum in your cunt. Nope. Definitely not.

Aziz comes close again, snapping you out of your stunned trance, and you glance up as he kneels in front of you to warily eye the petite bone carved container in his hand. It was shaped like a flower, and something about it makes every hair on your body slowly stand on end.

“What is that?”

“A gift, for the little adventurer from Mondstadt.” He says, giving you (what you think has to be) a sly smile. “Are you afraid of oils and creams as much as you are of me?”

Your brow draws in uncertainty but you don’t get a chance to pick apart what he’s saying to find the meaning in it. Taking up the wiry bristled brush in his other hand, he unscrews the lid from the trinket and dabs the tip into whatever was inside. For a split second you think he’s going to put makeup on you for some inexplicable reason but then — the now smoothed brush looks wet when he reaches it out towards you, and you reel back with a gasp. He remains undaunted though, and you screw your eyes shut with a soft whimper.

Startled confusion marches through your mind when he just presses the brush into the side of your neck though, and your mouth immediately pops open at how sticky and cool it is. Before you can yelp about the sensation, he drags a harsh line down across the column of your throat, making you shudder so hard you think you’re going to collapse. But then the sweet, cloying scent of myrrh and lavender mixed together floods your nostrils and you snap your head back up in disbelief. Perfume?

“You look surprised,” He murmurs, reaching for the other side of your neck to draw another stilted line over your pulse. “Do you know what this is?”

You shift, more than just a little uncertain and ill at ease now. “I … I don’t think I understand.”

With a quiet hum, he dips the brush into the mysterious substance again. “You will. Give it time, and you’ll soon come to understand everything.”

You haven’t the slightest idea what to make of that ambiguous statement.

Struggling to maintain your calm, you watch his hand stretch out for you again but this time it arims towards your chest. You think he’s going to swipe that goopy liquid over the swell of your breasts but, much to your jolting surprise, he drags it straight down over your pert nipple instead. Stomach roiling at the sensation, you make another blithe attempt to lean away from it but just like every other time he follows you easily enough and flicks that bristled tip over the stiffened bud again. Your breath hitches when it almost immediately starts to grow warm and tingly, shooting a disbelieving look down at yourself even as he reaches to do the same to the other.

“W - what is that — ahhn!”

“Relax. You’ll feel good in a moment.”

Somehow you didn’t believe that at all, and you start to tremble uncontrollably there on the floor. But it soon occurs to you that it’s not just nerves making you shake like a leaf. Your tits grow sensitive and flushed against the wafting air, curling to fine, tight points on your chest as the liquid quickly cools. It makes your blood pound harder, your breath come faster, and you can’t help but squirm at the almost painful knot that curls low in your gut.

Dizzy now, you issue a quiet whimper into the still tent when you sway in a deeply intoxicated manner. “Dear, Archons - -“

You cut off with a startled yelp when he pushes you down again but you no longer have the presence of mind to fight it. Laying there twitching, you tip your chin to dazedly watch that massive hand curl around the meat of your inner thigh and pull your legs apart. Suddenly your nudity seems so stark and arousing it makes you gasp, eyes widening when you realize you’re getting wet. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. Your cunt was flooding and you wail an incomprehensible protest when he leans over you to bring the brush towards your defenseless slit.

“Little adventurer,” Aziz croons, keeping your legs spread under his palm as he teases the tip of the brush over your lips. “You should have stayed in Mondstadt where they don’t have such big men and potent aphrodisiacs to turn your body against you.”

Sucking in a harsh, rasping breath, you weakly fling your opposite leg up as if to shove at him but you miss by a wide mile and it just smacks back down to the floor, completely useless. It was like you’d been robbed of your motor skills and mental faculties in equal measure. It was hard just to think straight.

“W — why?”

Chuckling, he drags his hand down off your thigh to press into the meat of your labia and spread them, fully exposing your clit to the air. “I had fun playing with you earlier even if your little sword was no match for my ax. You still put up a good fight so of course I’d want to keep playing.” The soft haired brush slowly presses into the pulsing cluster of nerves and you go ramrod stiff, mouth falling open as if to scream but nothing comes out. All you can do is lay there, violently twitching, while he sedately drags it up and down, and side to side to draw even more sticky slick out of your body. “Unfortunately you are a very small adventurer and I am much too big for you to take easily. This will help you adjust to my size and even make it less painful too. You should be happy I’m showing you such kindness.”

Your head positively swims at the explanation, neck lolling bonelessly on the floor of the tent while you desperately try to sort through it all and cling to your cognizance at the same time. It’s no use though. The effects of the drug sweep you up much too quickly and pull you under. You feel like you're drowning in it, your pussy thrumming and squeezing around nothing even when he finally pulls away from your throbbing clit some time later.

There’s nothing at all you can do, not even protest, when he finds his feet and then leans down to haul you up against him. Clutched to his chest, you hang there in a lifeless, moaning heap while he walks to the opposite side of the tent where he deposits you onto a waiting bed of pillows that gently cradle your body when he sets you down. Paying no mind to your needy, gasping moans, Aziz leaves you there and retreats back to the clay pot you’d seen him fetch water from earlier to clean you with. On a distant, hazy level, you realize he’s going to wash himself next and you know you should probably be thankful for that. Know you should try to take this moment to escape even if it meant running buck naked out into the desert beyond his tent.

But you just can’t bring yourself to do anything except writhe and twist on top of the mountain of pillows, blithely trying to squeeze your thighs together and rub out the ache between them without the use of your hands. It’s no good at all. Just utterly hopeless when your body was pulsing so hot and so fiercely your limbs didn’t want to cooperate.

Idly, you think to try straddling one of the pillows so you can grind your cunt against it.

Weakly, you roll over and attempt to wriggle yourself on top of one — any of them, it didn’t matter, any would do when your need was so great — but you can’t quite seem to manage. All it does is drag your stiff nipples over the fabric and the stitching, and you issue a low, faltering groan when you realize it’s just making it worse. It was hard to breathe. You felt like you were going insane with the need to be stuffed and filled, and stretched and pounded into unconsciousness.

You’re so caught up in your suffering you almost don’t notice when Aziz finally returns to your side. You feel the pillows shift under you with the addition of his weight and you try to blink away the stupor at the same time that you abruptly realize you’re drooling. Grunting in surprise at suddenly finding that you were in such a state, you lift your head with an owlish blink.

The effects of the aphrodisiac were starting to lessen, receding at least enough to clear your head by a small margin …

Before you can celebrate, you feel his hands descend upon your bound wrists and the sensation of those calloused fingers on your skin punches an abrupt groan out of you. Okay, maybe the effects weren’t fading so much as your body was simply adjusting to the sudden, potent influx of endorphins but at least you could formulate a semi coherent thought now.

You cling to that small silver lining with every fiber of your shuddering being as he gets the rope untied, freeing your arms at long last, and then rolls you over. The room spins for a brief moment but when your eyes focus and you manage to look down they nearly pop right out of your skull. Not only was he completely nude, so massive and thick with muscle it startles a tiny squeak out of you, but he was also rock hard. And much, much bigger than you could have even imagined.

Somehow the fear of having that huge cock forced into your body seems to chase away a bit more of the muddled daze hanging over your head, and you bring your hands up in an awkward, uncoordinated rush to push at him. But when you jerk your attention up at his face, you stop dead in your tracks.

His mask was gone.

Aziz’s eyes were sharp and narrowly shaped to compliment the lean structure of his face, and his eyes … you suddenly forget how to breathe. You’d never seen irises so startlingly amethyst they looked like sparkling jewels.

He watches your reaction carefully, the intensity of that bejeweled gaze boring into you even as he crawls over top of you to settle between your legs. The demanding nudge of his rigid cock startles you back to reality, and you suck in such a frantic gasp of air it claws on the way down.

“No, wait - -“

His hand grabs under your chin and forces your head back so he can seal his mouth over yours and cut you off. You go ramrod stiff underneath him, eyes wide and wild even as you lift shuddering hands to weakly press into his chest. Archons, he was huge. The muscle bulges under your palms and tenses, flexing when he shifts against you to line himself up, and the full weight of what’s happening slams into you all at once.

Visciously, you tear your mouth from his with a warbling, intoxicated shriek. “Please, I can’t take it! It won’t fit!”

He issues a deep, rumbling chuckle and runs those thick, rough worn fingers across your flushed cheek to make you tremble anew. “You can. Do not fear it, little adventurer. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t I?” Pausing, he teases your entrance with the blunt head, making you wheeze at the feel of him so heavy and thick against delicate lips. You reel underneath him and try not to hyperventilate, but he just keeps you pinned and mostly immobile under his sturdy frame. Finally, at length, he says, “Shall I show you how far into you I’m going to reach and give you something to truly be afraid of?”

“Wha - -“

Jostling you when he pulls back, Aziz pushes up to put some space between your pelvis and his, and you almost sigh in relief when his cock retreats from your entrance. But then something fleshy and thick slaps down on your lower belly, effectively robbing you of the ability to breathe, and you slowly glance down at yourself in fast mounting horror. His cock stretches across your stomach, leaving a sticky trail of precum in its wake when he nudges his hips closer to line the base up with your cunt and settle into place.

It feels like the earth itself is opening up under you to swallow you whole. He’s almost long enough to touch your bellybutton, and that was to say absolutely nothing of his girth. His size makes you look small and incredibly petite in comparison, so much slighter than him in every way that you feel more certain than ever that it’s not going to fit. There was no way it would.

“Right here,” He intones, squeezing at the soft pouch around your middle and digging his thumb in for emphasis. “This is how much of you I am going to take for myself. Are you ready for me?”

A half strangled sob bursts out of your mouth. “No, no, no, no —“

Ignoring your mouse squeak protests, Aziz repositions himself at your entrance and slowly leans into you, sinking into the tight heat of your body one staggered inch of him at a time. You go still as a statue at the oppressive, suffocating sensation, your hands blindly flying up to brace against his broad barrel chest, but you can’t even find the wherewithal to cry out. All you can focus on is the gradual stretch of your body, the way he forces your cunt to spread and make room for him under that stilted pressure and … much to your gaping shock it doesn’t hurt half as bad as you’d expected it to. There was still a pinch of discomfort, your body unaccustomed to taking something so large, but the aphrodisiac seems to have served its purpose.

Not only were you soaked and pliant with arousal, but your guts were so soft now that he only needed to exert a small amount of pressure to ease further into you. There is no straining resistance, no tearing, no painful force necessary to claim your much smaller body for his own. It was staggering to realize how little struggle your cunt actually offers up and you stare at the spot between you two with nothing short of dumbfounded fascination.

Bit by bit, his length disappears inside you — a quarter, a half, two thirds and then … he’s seated in you straight down to the hilt, Aziz loosing a deep, hissing groan when his pelvis finally presses flush to yours. Whimpering, you spasm on his cock, disoriented and a little too shell shocked to do much of anything else. You’d never felt so full before. So stretched right to the limit and the total lack of pain sends your reeling mind spinning in an endless loop, just trying to grasp what was even happening. You never would have thought it was possible if you hadn’t seen it with your own two eyes.

“Watch, little adventurer,” He murmurs, drawing a piece of you out of your stupor when he bends close to put his forehead against yours, that loose braid swaying forward to tickle your temple. “Watch how I take you and how your body welcomes me in. You are mine now, and this is the proof.”

Meaningfully, he drags his amethyst gaze lower and, quaking wildly underneath him, you do the same, following his line of sight to look at where you’re connected. The muscles in his stomach flex, abdominals visibly tensing as he ever so slowly draws his hips back to drag against your inner sleeve. You very nearly go cross eyed at the sensation, so deep and unexpectedly pleasurable it almost sends you shuddering right over the edge, but you force yourself to keep watching. To watch how he pauses at the halfway point, his muscular waist swiveling forward to push back in, in, in, further and further until — the spot just below your bellybutton bulges up at the same time his pelvis meets yours again, and your mouth drops open in disbelief.

He really was reaching that far into you.

And you really had taken all of him.

Wildly clawing at him for something to cling to, you let out a series of frantic, bleating sounds when he slowly starts to angle back again, watching that bulge in your tummy recede and disappear with the retreat of his cock only to come pushing right back in a moment later. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the spot on your lower belly where he keeps pushing up under the skin at an increasingly quicker pace, repeatedly punching the same spot into a soft, rounded bulge. A low ache starts to build deep in your body and somewhere in the back of your cotton stuffed mind you find the wherewithal to realize how sore you were going to be after this. The aphrodisiac would wear off eventually and you would be left in the aftermath to deal with the aching stretch, the throbbing reminder of how he’d felt moving inside of you and the lingering effects of getting pounded by something so big it felt like it was actively rearranging your guts.

This was in no way what you’d signed up for when you took on this commission, nor is it why you left Mondstadt.

It’s at that moment, when he’s working his hips hard and fast enough that a steady plap, plap, plap seems to dominate the space inside the tent that you realize you really did miss it. You missed Mondstadt and you wanted to go home. Soon. Immediately after he let you go.

He would let you go … wouldn’t he?

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #daythunder eremite #daythunder x reader #self insert bullshit

482 notes · View notes