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fayes-fics · 10 months ago

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When The World Is Free - Chapter 10: Hymne à L'amour

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Oral sex (m to f), a smidge of edging, handjob, vaginal sex, woman on top, orgasms.

Word Count: 4.1k. Who is surprised the sex chapter is my longest? Yeah me neither

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the smutty goodness people. Please heed the warning change. if you want your story chaste, please skip this chapter. There is no plot, just porn. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Portsmouth, UK, September 1939

As soon as your lips meet his, he grabs your face and kisses you back harder than he ever has, a faintly panted growl that makes something turn molten inside. Kissing you like his life depends on it, an urgency in his tongue and lips that stun you.

You go to say his name, but he swallows it and hushes you, his lips never leaving yours as he does so. One hand slides down your front as you kiss, a teasing trail of fingers over your clavicle that makes all your senses fire. He pulls back and stares intently into your eyes as the hand slides lower and cups your breast through your dress.

“Benedict,” you gasp, and the look of victory on his face is devastatingly handsome. He doesn't break eye contact as his thumb swipes gently over your nipple, and your breath hitches a rasping inhale.

“There it is,” he smiles crookedly, “that sound I love to hear.”

His thumb swipes with a little more pressure but still maddeningly slow. You already feel on tenterhooks, heart hammering, body rioting—part of you wants him to be fast, maybe even a little rough, for him to be impatient from the same boiling passion that you feel simmering in your bones. Another part of you wants him to go so slow that you are clawing at him, broken and wrecked, pleading for him to take pity on you as you tremble and teeter so close to something mind-blowing.

Neither of those extremes is anything you have experienced yet, and you want him to be the one to give you both more than you want to breathe—a passion only he can evoke. You have seen glimpses of him untamed, especially last night in the cottage when he sent you away, his whole being seemingly shaking with need; you want to inspire that in him again, now, tomorrow, maybe always.

“Undress me….” a hushed plea you exhale shakily, desperation for him to touch your flesh.

He pulls back a fraction, eyes glittering, hand still upon your breast.

“Like this?” his voice like butter as that hand moves to the top pearl button over your sternum, a teasing crooked smile on his lips as you breathe heavily and stare up at him.

The air feels charged as his fingertips brush featherlight down the sliver of skin he reveals, with each button popping open, leaving a little trail of fire all the way to your navel. The buttons continue to the hem at your knees, and you want to groan as he slips to his knees before you and continues the unfastening at a steady but unrushed pace, staring up to catalogue your face as you look down at him.

You quake as his fingers pass close over the front of your underwear but do not touch, and you want to whimper. He keeps going, deft fingers undoing each button over your thighs, goosebumps raising as you feel his warm breath ghosting between the fabric as he works. When the last is undone, he leans back on his haunches and looks up at you again, eyes blazing.

“Take it off.”

It’s halfway between a plea and an order, maybe both and your body blossoms all over, tangy want metallic on your tongue. The pure desire writ large on his face gives you the confidence to reach up and push the fabric off your shoulders, allowing the dress to part and fall to the floor behind you, hitting the carpet with a soft whump. Your knees almost buckle at the noise he strangles in the back of his throat as you tower above him in bra, underwear and stockings.

“Touch me… please,” it’s a quiet but imploring request.

Almost reverential, his hands raise and ghost over your knees then thighs, not yet touching, almost as if there is too much choice, and he has no idea where to begin. Then they land heavily on the outer flare of your hips, a grip that is strong but not harsh and his face pitches forward, burying his warm nose into your navel and inhaling deeply before dropping a tender kiss right on the sensitive spot at the top of your belly button. You want to curl forward over him, the breath swept from your lungs at this simple gesture. Your hands grip his warm, broad shoulders as he nuzzles into you.

“You smell so sweet,” he almost sounds pained, wistful, his hands sliding around to cup the globes of your button and propel you further into his arms.

He is clinging to you, strong arms wrapped around your hips, his knees on either side of your feet. He drops a line of kisses across your belly that has your abdominals rippling and a shiver running all over you as his fingers deftly unhook your stockings and pull them gently down your legs. Kneeling before you as if worshipping your body. Clinging to you like his very life depended upon it, looking up at you with devoted, blown pupils. It's a potent elixir and makes you want to strip bare for him.

As you step out of your stockings, you let go of his shoulders to reach behind and unhook your bra before the spell is broken, boldly throwing it aside as he makes a joyous noise and pushes up onto his knees, latching onto your nipple with a suction that has you calling out his name. It makes him feral, almost snarling, hands kneading your lace-clad bottom as he sucks harder, and you flood your underwear, the need for him making you shudder.

“Don't stop…” your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, your tooth snagging your lip, eyes fluttering shut as he swaps to your other breast and your fingers card into his thick, luscious head of hair, massaging his scalp with little swirling motions that match the wet tongue circling your areola.

“Please look at me….” he calls, and your eyes reopen to see him looking up at you as he flattens his tongue and licks over your puckered nipple, his eyes flashing fire, wanting you to watch him do this to you, watch your body physically change under his ministrations, your skin flushing darker.

Just as time seems to slow like molasses, he suddenly stands up. A complete change of pace as you are hauled high into his arms, like in the kitchen this morning, your legs twine around his waist on instinct, feeling something hard on your damp knickers as his lips crash into yours, urgent, hot, passionate. Then he is moving, slim hips flexing against your inner thighs and your back is pressed into the wall, the velvet wallpaper tickling your spine, the pictures rattling in their frames as he takes your hands and pins them above your head, fingers sinking between yours, so your hands form a tight fist together, your wedding rings clinking together.

“You make me wild, wreckless, wanton…” he murmurs, breaking the kiss, his being racked with that same trembling you felt before he sent you away last night.

“The feeling is mutual,” you assure, panting lightly, the slightly rough treatment such a contrast to the slow reverence he knelt before you in.

It’s a compulsion, a magnetic pull, something in your chemistry pulling you to each other even though you met barely days ago. Putting aside the added complication of marriage from your mind as you concentrate on the physical. He makes you bold in ways you never expected and awakens things within you you didn't know even existed. You want him to act on every instinct he has, want him not to hold back. It feels at once ethereal and rooted deeply in something physical—primaeval, dark, damp and earthy, like soil.

Rather than speak words, you tilt your hips where they wrap around his body and rub yourself shamelessly over the hard mass you can feel through his pyjama bottoms. His grip on your hands slackens, and his face buries into your neck, almost biting with intensity as he sucks the cord of your neck and you repeat your move, your swollen nub mashed deliciously onto his hardness, the lace of your underwear just heightening the heady sensation.

“I want to hear you beg...” he confesses, sounding guilty but compelled to utter it, his lips still on your neck. “But I also want to indulge your every whim before you even know you have it.”

That he has the capacity to articulate all the same feelings swirling in your head impresses. You feel you can barely string a sentence together, need overwhelming your usually razor-sharp mind.

“Please….”

It's all you can say in response, but it seems enough. With another untamed noise, you are on the move again, and within seconds, he is lowering you onto the bed, hovering over you in a way that fills your whole field of vision.

“I need to be the best you have ever had…” confessions tumbling from him as he lowers his weight onto you, heat and muscle pinning you down in a way that has you instantly clawing at his t-shirt, fabric straining over the lithe muscles of his upper back.

“You already are….” you admit breathily, letting his legs sink between yours and his knees push yours out wide, his hard quad muscle under soft cotton. The pace slowing again to something decadent, rich like dark chocolate.

He leans up onto his knuckles, the mattress dipping on either side of your body as he does so.

“Do not return to him,” he beseeches, earnest vulnerability clouding his expression. “Even if you do not remain with me, he is unworthy of you…”

Something in your chest cracks at his sincerity. “I will never return to him,” you vow over a shaky breath, too afraid to confirm he is the only place you want to be.

Instead, you do what compels you, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him back down into a kiss. Feeling overwhelmed by him caging you, hands gripping your waist as your tongues tangle, your pelvis mashed to his, wanting him to be as naked as you are.

“Take this off,” you almost whine, plucking at the sleeves of his t-shirt as you surface for breath.

He chuckles at that and sits up slightly to whip it off, a glimpse of a toned torso before the heat of his chest is lowered over yours, and you lose all power of thought. Fingers tracing the contours of tendons you feel flexing on his shoulders as his hands wander, sending a current shimmering over your body until he hooks his fingers into your underwear and starts to tug them down your hips. Shuffling lower, his mouth is again hot on your breasts as your underwear slips further, somehow untangling from you just long enough to discard them. You are utterly naked under him, knowing he can scent your arousal as he drops lower, lingering close to your belly button again, kissing, always kissing.

When he slips lower still something clenches low in your gut.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, a thread of alarm that he is muscling your legs over his shoulders.

He smirks at first then his face falls to one filled with concern. “No one has ever done this to you?” his ask laced with incredulity.

You stare down the plane of your body to his handsome face framed by your own thighs. “N-no,” you stumble out, always unable to lie to him, even now.

“A man cannot claim to love a woman and not do this,” he seems to seethe with an indignation on your behalf - that you have not experienced this before.

“What are you going to do?” you whisper.

His expression changes again - like an entirely different man inhabits him, a seductive look that has your face flushing. Without answering, he lowers his jaw between your legs and ploughs his tongue into the gathered, dewy wetness. You are on a cliff edge, a complete tumult as you inhale - sharp, ragged - the warm muscular swipe of his tongue in a place so intimate. Your hands grasp his forearm on instinct, needing something to hold onto as he does the same again. You swear out loud and writhe, the intensity making your body want to buck hard. A strong hand curling around your pelvis and locking you down to the bed. The static over your skin buzzes, a thrill zipping up your spine as you are held down and, well, devoured.

He is not gentle, using his whole face to wring a medley of novel sensations. The stubble of his face rasping the delicate skin between your legs, his lips suctioning hard on your folds, his tongue roughly lapping at the hardened pearl hiding there, a shock running high up into your pelvis from how he does so, you can feel yourself swelling and throbbing harder under his attentions. Drawing uneven gulped breaths, occasionally feeling a twinge so strong your abdomen clenches, your head raising off the pillow, a jolt so hard that your whole body seems to contract with a wave of pleasure.

Your hands grasp his hair, steering your pleasure, licking your dry lips. Now you understand why women talk in hushed tones about sex. This makes you want to scream and thrash and never stop. Just as you feel yourself spiralling somewhere truly heady, breath quickening, body boiling, he stops and sits back, looking triumphantly down upon your rippling body, his handsome face glistening in the lamplight with your arousal.

“Why did you stop?” Each word feels an effort to grit out, a large hand holding you down on your lower belly, his middle finger hooked into your belly button as you undulate under his hold.

“Because I want to see you like this,” his voice rich, decadent, sonorous, the tone bordering on smug as his eyes rake over your flushed torso, peaked, puffy nipples, swollen weeping slit, admiring his handiwork.

Even as you are in upheaval, your eyes fall from his victorious face to the bulge in his pyjamas, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine. A desire to take him to the edge and then sit back and observe, watch him writhe and flex. Unable to resist, you grab him with a force that makes him startle, his hold on you slackening in surprise. He is so hot and hard, and your fingers wrap around the outline and rub up and down his length. His eyes flash fire as your other hand moves to the drawstring to untie the bow. He doesn't stop you; he assists, climbing out of them as you stare covetously.

You didn't realise men could look so different until now, did not know what you have been missing, almost an apprehension about the scale of what you see. He guides your hand back to his flesh once his clothing is discarded. Velvet smooth and warm, you wrap your hand around him, noting the difference from the only other one you have touched. The noises he makes are different, too; needier, leaking over your knuckle as you squeeze in an upwards motion, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily, and his eyes closing as you glance at his face. So very different and so appealing.

“I have never….” you begin but feel unable to say it.

“You don't have to,” he replies rapidly, eyes popping open.

“But I want to…” you admit tacitly, an urge you have never felt before.

A wolfish grin claims his face, and he gently removes your hand, crawling over you, cupping your face and kissing you deeply, your naked bodies pressed together, his cock branding hot against your belly.

“Another time,” he asserts over your lips, and something inside you vaults that this isn't a momentary, fleeting opportunity. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he is almost hesitant, a benevolence that makes your heart skip, the moment turning tender, loving almost.

“I've never been more certain of anything,” you whisper, heartfelt, genuine, your hands running his sides, stopping to grasp the belt of muscle low around his middle, pushing yourself off the bed and into his warmth to emphasise your point.

With a soft smile and a sotto voce request to let him prepare, he rolls away and gathers a tin from his nightbag. Your stomach flutters with butterflies as you realise he is reaching for latex protection. You watch the play of muscles in his back as he does so, unseen, and you reach out and run a soothing hand over his spine on instinct, wanting to touch him any moment you can. He twists and smiles at you, grabbing your hand and kissing your fingers before turning back and crawling over you, a caring streak running through his evident desire.

Then he is upon you again, kissing with fiery intent, caressing your breasts and stomach, sweeping you back into a state where your blood runs hot, your skin glowing with want, that lantern behind your ribs that seems to burn just for him fully ablaze as he nudges your hips open gently with his, a hand guiding himself close to your body now.

“Look at me,” his request silky, and you cannot do anything but - his pupils a sea of inky glass blackness you can see a mirage of yourself in as he pushes into your body.

You thought time stopped when he first kissed you a few days ago. But that was nothing compared to this. A searing stretch so slow but so much more than you have experienced before, your toes curling into the sheets, your fingers digging hard into the rope of muscle pulled taut between his shoulder blades. Still, your eyes do not stray from each other as he keeps going, you holding your breath until he bottoms out, the feeling of fullness overwhelming. He holds still to allow you to adjust, even as you can see how much he is holding back, almost a shake in his being.

“I’m not made of glass,” you entreat.

His thumb sweeps your bottom lip, his wedding ring cool against your jaw where he cradles your face.

“But you are precious to me,” he counters, and the swell of emotions those words cause almost knock the wind from your lungs.

But then he starts to move, and you can barely breathe, regardless. He withdraws and then surges back in a wave. The tug deep inside makes you gasp, grab onto him, wrap your legs around his calves, toes tickled by the downy hair there. It is so wholly other than anything you have experienced; the past pales. This is what intimacy truly is. A wash of emotion that you could have gone through life and not known something like this.

“Are you alright?” his face creased with a tender concern as he moves slowly.

“I never knew what I was missing…” nothing but truthful.

His whole demeanour softens, his eyes soft and down-sloped, holding still buried within you; his words seem to echo through your body from where you are joined as he answers.

“You deserve the world, y/n.”

Emotion bubbles behind your ribs and blooms into sheer want - an impetuous need to channel the words you want to say but daren’t into action. Screwing your eyes shut and biting the edge of your tongue to tamp the urge to ask him to fuck you thoroughly, carnally, take you somewhere no one has before. But it's like he can sense it, for when he starts to move again, it's a snap of his hips that drives him deeper than before, making you moan loudly and rise off the bed, curving bowlike into his body.

You hiss your approval and he does it again, watching you carefully, cataloguing when you open your eyes again and meet his stare challengingly. Telegraphing silently that you want him to be merciless. The bed squeaks in protest as you start to move together, you pushing down as he thrusts up, your right and flying to the headboard to provide leverage, as his teeth scrap down your neck, over your clavicle, suckling hard on your breast as you speed up.

The sharp zing of sensation right down to your core makes you swear under your breath, spurring him on, his shower-damp hair an array of curls shaken loose as you go faster, his gaze like a thick veil you wear, sweeping your face, your body, glancing down to where you are joined, his breath hitched hard at what he glimpses You look too, drawn to the sight like never before, a want to see your body being invaded by him, somehow making it seem real rather than a fevered, lustful dream.

His right hand hooks behind your neck and tangles in your hair, hauling you up to meet his greedy lips, kissing artlessly but full of open-mouthed sighs and moans as you move yet faster, a sheen breaking out over both of your bodies. Your left hands clasp together on instinct, wedding bands clinking quietly, your eyes drifting to the sound, then back to each other. As if you had almost forgotten what you have done to allow yourself to get to this very moment.

It makes you fearless, so with a flick of your hips that surprises him, you are able to flip him over while he stays inside you, a need to ride, to take control of your own pleasure, something you have never done before. The flash of admiration on his face is priceless, his hands immediately grasping your waist and encouraging you to rise and fall on his cock, finding a whole new world of pleasure, angling to hit your swollen pearl on his pelvis when you sink.

He watches you with hooded eyes, whispering encouraging words, the slight burn in your thighs worth it for the looped call and response of his body and yours, moving faster now, letting him fuck up into you, again meeting each other halfway, as enthused as the other to wring all the pleasure you can from each second.

Then with a lopsided smile, his large hand spans downwards from your hip, his thumb sliding between your legs and hooking over the hood of your clit. The jolt makes you cry out and shudder, his resounding groan loud as you clamp hard around him.

“Don't you dare stop this time,” it’s almost a command through gritted teeth, and he looks surprised and so aroused you feel him ripple inside you.

He does as bidden, his blunt thumbnail catching perfectly around the side of your clit, the pad mashed against you as you ride hard now, muscles protesting, a bead of sweat sliding down your spine from your hairline. You are climbing again, just as he had you when his tongue was there; the memory of it drives you harder. Until you feel that dam breaking, your whole body wound tight and suddenly snapping with a violent release, a technicolour explosion behind your eyelids. Slamming down on Benedict, who calls out roughly as you come around him, gripped upon him tight as you flutter, his cock feeling so huge you swear you will still feel its imprint tomorrow. It never seems to end the sensation racing down your limbs to fizzle in your toes and fingers, a true livewire. Underneath you, Benedict grips your hips with a curse and a long, low groan; you feel him breaking, too, a pulsing ripple travelling up his length as he spills into the latex between you.

You slump forward onto his chest, heaving gulps of air, feeling so many contradictions - sated but still hungry, energised but exhausted, aching but ready to go again just to chase that intangible high. Benedict's lips are hot on your damp forehead, and you push off him slightly, a hitch in his breath as you do, your lips meeting in a prolonged kiss, an endnote to this symphony.

“I've never done that before,” you confess over a gratified giggle.

His smile is warm, his hands running up and down your back in soothing strokes. “Which part?”

“Both being on top and that…” suddenly shy to state the word.

He looks momentarily shocked. “Then I am so glad you got scammed,” he says with a conviction that makes you frown fleetingly. “I could not allow a world where you would go back to America and never have an orgasm…”

He is sincere, but something in the way he says it makes you break out into happy, carefree peals of laughter that has him joining in as he slips from inside your body.

This lighthearted moment seems to break any tension there may be about words you could say; it means you are still giggling together as he rolls you aside and, after discarding the condom, pulls you into his arms, both of you suddenly bone tired from the rollercoaster of a day.

“I am so glad I got scammed too,” you offer sleepily; he huffs a laugh, matching smiles as sleep claims you both almost instantly.

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damn-stark · 16 days ago

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Chapter 29 A dot Targ. A dot Vel. (REPRISE)

Chapter 29 of Moonlight

A/N- Its good! I’m so proud!

Warning- talks of pregnancy, ANGST, fluff? violence, blood, swearing, and death. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 515-520

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW YEARS BACK*

“There. We drop from the top of this cliff and fall right into the water. There’s no rocks below, there’s no way to get hurt. It’s a straightforward jump that’s not high whatsoever.”

Perhaps it was easier for you to say it, you have jumped from the cliff multiple times already, but to your brothers, Daeron, and Helaena? For them, the jump from the small cliff is like being high in the sky and jumping off your dragon's backs. The big body of water that glimmers like gems against the sun's reign is dull and grey in their eyes, and the target is small and an unattainable feat.

“You can walk back down,” Aemond interjects and directs at his little brother. “That’s what Jacaerys and Lucerys are doing. You don’t have to jump if you don’t want to.”

Daeron steps forward an inch to drop his brown eyes on the body of water below and gulp with fear.

“We can hold hands and jump together,” Helaena offers her little brother. “That’s how her…” Helaena pauses and points at you and then points her eyes at Aemond standing beside you. “…and Aemond do it.”

Said boy looks away out of embarrassment but doesn’t argue because it’s true. Every time you come to the top to jump down you do it hand in hand. Never have you done it without each other—yet maybe today might be the day considering Aemond might want to show off to Aegon.

“Yes,” Daeron says shakily and peers over his shoulder before he lifts his hand off his side and starts to reach out for his older sister.

However, it’s in his attempt to seek support that suddenly Aegon sprints forward. “Don’t be such a coward!” Aegon exclaims. “You’re a man with balls not a girl with a cunt!”

Before you can stop him, he shoves past Aemond and you to throw his hands out and shove Daeron off the cliff.

“Aegon!” You snap and run to the edge, whilst Helaena lets out a shocked gasp, and Aemond trails after you.

“Why would you do that?” Aemond remarks to his brother as you all watch Daeron screaming from the top of his lungs before he hits the water with a big splash!

“What’s wrong with you?!” You exclaim and snap your eyes to Aegon, but he just flashes you a cocky smile before he walks back a few paces and then runs forward to jump off the cliff himself and land beside his brother.

“Jacaerys!” You call out as you keep your eyes on where Daeron hit the water. “Check on Daeron!”

Your brother shoots you a thumbs up and walks in the water to do as you asked, and luckily he doesn’t need to assist. Daeron resurfaces with a big gasp of air as he wipes his face.

“Daeron! Are you okay?!” Helaena asks loudly, but she gets ignored as Daeron spins around and begins to splash Aegon out of spite. However, as expected, Aegon only finds his brother's reaction humorous.

“I told you not to invite him,” you quip at Aemond with a side glare. “Of course, he was going to do some shit like this.”

“I thought he’d behave,” Aemond mutters. “Besides, I didn’t invite him. He found out and invited himself.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Whatever, do you want to go next?” You ask and throw your hand out to offer it to him. And at first, he looks at your extended invitation and hesitates for a few seconds, so you think today will be the day he refuses your assistance, but alas, he thankfully doesn’t give in to his self-consciousness about being judged by Aegon and puts his hand over yours and make you smile at him.

“Ready?” You make sure to ask as you secure your hold around his hand.

Aemond nods and you proceed to walk back a couple of steps before you both run forward at the same time and jump off the cliff together hand in hand just like you always do. When you hit the water with a big splash and sink in the depths of the deep body of water, you let go of Aemond’s hand and open your eyes, catching him struggling to find his composure for a moment.

Only for a moment though because he’s quick to calm down and stop flailing his limbs around, letting his heartbeat come to a calm beat, and finding the moment to open his eyes and come face to face with you and your close-mouthed smile as you’re the center of each other's attention.

He tries to mirror your sweet gesture, but his smile is not as grand or excited as yours. There’s a warmth in his smile as sees you being so giddy, but he can not reflect that joy you carry because this, the depths of these waters aren’t his favorite; he feels like he’s playing with death by being down under for so long, but for you? This is basically your natural habitat. You were given the name the Siren of Driftmark for your singing ability, but what no one knows is that you’re basically a siren when you’re in the water.

You can hold your breath a long time and that’s something that was self-taught just to be able to dive down and collect stuff off the surface, and be able to mingle with the sea creatures that call these waters their home. Honestly, if it were up to you you would live here if you could, but alas you need air, so after you swim around him you resurface and take a breath of air without failing to grin brighter than the sun shining above.

“Come on, Helaena!” You encourage her whilst you see Aemond resurface and take a large gasp of air from the corner of your eye.

“Maybe I should go push her,” Aegon taunts, but you quickly snap around.

“Don’t you dare you ass!” You remark and push him, but alas he just laughs it off.

You respond to his maniacal laugh with a scoff as you turn away from him and look up again. However, Helaena is not in sight anymore.

“Helaena?!” You call out with worry.

Albeit only a few seconds later she shows up again as she runs toward the edge and jumps off with her fingers pinching her nose.

When she hits the water you swim toward her right away, but she resurfaces quickly and looks at you with relief to be alive. “I’m okay,” she reassures you as she breathes heavily.

You grin at her and nod. “Great. Would you do it again?”

She shakes her head and scoffs. “No.”

You giggle at her response and grab her hand to swim to shore together. Once your feet hit the sandy ground you find Daeron sitting on a rock with his eyes on the water before him.

“Are you okay?” You make sure to ask as you break away from Helaena and crouch down beside him.

“Yes,” he sighs and blinks as he turns his head to look at you. “It was not so bad. It just looked further when I was up there.”

You smile softly and nod in comprehension before you raise a quizzical brow. “Would you do it again?”

Daeron scoffs and nods softly. “Yes. It was fun.”

You beam at him and nudge him playfully. “See, I told you it was not so bad!”

Daeron smiles shyly and rolls his head down as he averts his gaze. “Yes I suppose you were right,” he echoes you before he meets your eyes with that sweet smile. “Just don’t let Aegon push me this time.”

You shake your head and pat his shoulder to reassure him. “No, never. I won’t let him come close. Swear.”

——

*NOW. TUMBLETON*

The stars in the night sky are dancing and mingling with the moon. The breeze is cool, colder than any that’s been felt yet, keeping the warm bodies in their tents to preserve heat and also sleep off the nighttime activities that have been transcending for the past week.

Overall the night is at last calm, giving the army of men a peaceful night. However, it’s in that silence and peace that they are easily able to feel the ground beneath them starting to tremble. And even if they can’t mistake it for anything absurd like all the men getting piss drunk, they don’t question the earth, yet.

With not a moment to spare, more and more men start to wake up when they hear the sound of faint rumbling echoing in the distance. They try to play it off as some distant storm coming their way, but that rumbling grows louder, going from rumbling to it sounding like a thousand storms of thunder clapping on the ground, making the ground shake even more violently and once and for all luring them out of their tents.

Albeit it’s a good and bad thing that they did. It’s a bad thing because they’re met face to face with death, but it's also a good thing because they can alert everyone of death rolling in on them in the shape of two large dragons that dive from the sky unleashing waves of fire upon their tent grounds that engulf the once darkened campsite in a raging firelight and drown out the soft and bright light of the moon and the stars.

From there on it's impossible for anyone to mind their business and ignore the sound of chaos outside, the firestorm falling upon them, and the wave upon wave of screaming men all charging toward them. Now they have to get up and dress for a fight, or get up and walk out whilst they’re dressing to grab any weapon they can or grab their horses to have some fighting chance.

And some men do have a fighting chance—Those men far from the initial line of fire can quickly dress and grab what they need to meet their attackers. However, those men caught under the dragon's shadows are nothing more than ash and bones, especially as you and Astraea make a sharp turn and fly low, descending a fiery death as you fly directly toward the main tents because that’s where you’ll find him; Daeron Targaryen.

Many would call you a Kinslayer for directly killing your uncle Daeron. You’ll forever be marked as one in the history books. All your great achievements will be watered down to that single fact especially because you’re a woman, but here’s the thing, you don’t give a single fuck what people in a hundred years think of you. All you care about is killing one man at this very moment, and you notice him just as you’re flying directly toward the main tents.

Daeron is standing outside, half-dressed with his silver-blond hair standing out like a sore thumb against the wild flames feeding on the bodies, the tents, and the ground around him. He stands there with his dark eyes on you and your dragon charging directly at him. He’s there and as his figure reflects in your eyes all the deaths you’ve endured; Lucerys, your grandmother, Jacaerys, Viserys, Joffrey, and even Aemond—Even his own brother's death flashes behind your eyes as if he was the sole cause of their deaths. As if he himself killed them with his bare hands.

And in some messed up way your mind does see him as the sole cause of their deaths because there’s no one else to blame; Aegon is dead or lost somewhere, you can never truly blame Aemond, and anyone else can never compare to the man standing before you. The Hightower and Targaryen boy whose family took away everything good. It’s because of his family that all of your own family is gone, and all that you knew is dead along with them. So yes, you blame him. You want him dead. You want to see his flesh melt off his bones. You want to give his mother his head so she may feel your mother's pain and the pain you have endured as well.

It would satisfy your thirst for revenge just enough to get off the field and watch from a distance to not make Cregan, Ser Cane, and Addam worry. Daeron is all your anger wants. He’s all your desire locks on. Daeron.

Daeron.

“Dracarys,” you growl as you lean forward and grab onto the handle with a vice grip.

Astraea clicks from the back of her throat as she builds up fire before she blasts her burning flames on Daeron and the path behind him.

Nevertheless, just before the flames can hit Daeron and the ground, the boy jumps out of Astraea’s aim.

You immediately snap your head around as Astraea flies forward, and soon thereafter catch him pushing himself to his feet to be able to run away and hide in between the crowd all running from the dragon's wrath.

“RAHHH!” You cry out enraged and hit the handles of your saddle. “<Turn Astraea!>” You command in Valyrian as you nudge the handles to the side. And without needing to be told twice Astraea makes a quick turn, whipping her tail and thrashing men to the side whilst also destroying tents and clutter in the way of her swinging tail.

When you’re facing the way Daeron ran you have Astraea unleash more waves of fire, catching irrelevant men in the way of your wrath until your uncle is all that you see ahead of you now that he’s not able to hide in the sea of bodies.

Yet before you can give your command to Astraea with your words or through your connection, you unhook all your restraints and push yourself off your seat to swing your leg over the saddle and reach the ladder hanging off Astraea’s side. After that, without needing to be told, your dragon comes to a stop and hovers over the ground of burning bodies to let you descend the ladders and land on an empty spot on the ground.

Daeron notices what you're doing and doesn’t stop running. You look at his path ahead and assume he’s attempting to reach Tessarion, so, considering Astraea knows your deepest desire, she swoops around him, unleashing a line of fire around him to cut him off in his attempts and bring him to an immediate stop before the wall of fire.

You then proceed to watch him, but don’t call out his name. You narrow your glare and start trudging toward him with heavy footsteps and Blackfyre in one hand. And perhaps that sight of you is much more terrifying than being called out because silence is much more threatening. It's tense and deadly because he knows, he feels it on the hairs on the back of his neck and the goosebumps crawling down his spine that you’re coming.

It’s only once Daeron hears you come to a stop that he turns around while he fixes his grip on his own sword, and confronts your piercing glare spewing hatred and a ferocity that he has only heard of until now.

Yet it doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t tense or try to find a way to escape, he stands there with you in a small clear spot surrounded by dead bodies and a wall of fire that stays alive by feeding off some of those dead bodies.

“Goodsister,” he greets warmly, but you don’t even attempt to return a feigned friendly greeting. You breathe out heavily through your nose and tighten your grip around your Valyrian sword.

“It’s been a while. You’re glowing,” he finds some way to be funny, but again, you don’t mirror him. You do respond though.

“I’m not your Goodsister anymore. Aemond is dead.”

Daeron blinks and nods stiffly. “Yes, I know. My condolences, you were married and you were best friends from what I remember. He really loved you.”

You blink repeatedly as one of your heartstrings is pulled at by his words.

“Don’t patronize me,” you hiss and throw your hand out to point the tip of your sword at him. “Fight.”

Daeron swallows back nervously and remains still for a second before he shakes his head. “No, I won’t fight you. You’re my niece and you’re with child. It would not be fair.”

“You have until my Astraea reaches us to swing your sword,” you ignore him and then lift your hand to point your sword at Astraea circling around to return this way. “If you refuse she will unfurl her fire and catch us both with her flames, but,” you suck your teeth and begin to smile a menacing smile. “Only one of us can withstand the fire's fury. You…will burn and Tessarion won’t be able to reach you in time to save you. So choose. You can fight me and have a chance to survive, or die a fiery death.”

Daeron glances at Astraea getting closer and then glances at the army of men you came with before he slowly lets his eyes fall back on you. “And if I fight you and survive, how long until your army of men comes after me?”

You scoff. “Not long. Lord Stark is lurking nearby, and my sworn protector is also close, so,” you pause and hum as you come up with an estimate. “About ten to fifteen minutes, but that’s enough to get close to your dragon. That is if my dragon doesn’t eat you first.”

He hums and nods in comprehension before he chooses to glance at his options again and debate whether he really wants to fight you at a disadvantage, or give up and die.

It is a hard choice given he doesn’t hate you or hold any ill will. It was always your brothers that he was taught to dislike, but his mother never really taught them to hate you. She did bad mouth you and was rude, but she never told her kids to hate you, so he can’t find it in himself to flip a switch and all of a sudden want to kill you.

Yet…he also doesn’t want to die. He can’t die when his men and his own mother need him. He owes it to the siblings he’s lost and their cause to fight. So with a deep breath, he tightens his grip, fixes his stance, and chooses.

“Alright if it’s what you want.” He mutters, making that menacing smile turn to a grin, and without saying a word, causing Astraea to drift and now circle you and him rather than setting you both on fire.

“It’s what I want and it’s what I need,” you grumble and fix your stance before you slowly let out a deep breath.

~~~~~

There’s a breath you take in your lungs, but rather than being filled with relief as the breath of air runs through your lungs something grainy travels into your lungs before you’re overcome with a pressure over your chest.

A darkness also accompanies the pressure as you open your eyes, and all you can do is panic rather than staying calm and thinking about what’s going on or where you are.

You throw your hands out and fling them around to try and remove the heavy grain that’s burying you without thinking about taking steady breaths. You pant, taking in more and more grains of sand bit by bit until a beam of light breaks through the darkness, bringing hope to the desperation and letting you break through the barrier that was on top of you to let you see an endless blue sky.

Yet even as you face the horizon and the freedom it brings, the panic still unsettles your heart as you face an endless sea that you weren’t near mere moments ago and violently cough out the grains that you now know are sand.

It’s all so sudden, the sand, the sea, the blue sky, and the shining sun. You were just…

You don’t remember…

You can’t remember where you were. You don’t—you can’t.

“Hey, hey, breathe. Breathe,” a familiar voice tries to instruct you before their hand falls on your shoulder, but you just bolt to your feet and spin around to swat their hand away in your panic.

Only, it’s when you face the person comforting you that you recognize…your father.

“Father?” You ask breathlessly and step back out of fear.

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes. It’s me. You’re okay. It’s me.”

You shake your head and close your eyes to try and wake up back where you had been, but when you rip your eyes open you still see him and the beach standing behind you.

“No, no,” you keep denying what you see even if you don’t know what’s going on. You just know seeing your father isn’t right. “You’re not supposed to be here,” you say between pants and step back again whilst you reach for your belly for some support. Albeit your hands don’t come in contact with your swollen belly, your hands hit your torso, but there's no bump. It’s gone. The twins…

“What,” you gasp and feel your heart racing in your chest as your panic heightens, making everything around you spin, and making your head hurt. “Where are my children?!”

“Breathe!” Your father yells out over your panic and grabs your arms to yank you toward him so he can repeat himself louder. “Breathe.”

You look him in the eyes and don’t see a stranger or any trick or sorcery. You see the same brown eyes you saw when he was still alive. You see him, the man you loved, and the man you lost. He’s there in front of you. It’s no trick, no dream, no vision. It’s him.

“Father?” You question and blink repeatedly before you stare at him for a lingering minute and then avert your gaze to think back to what you remember last and what brought you to this moment. And even if you assume that you won’t remember, you do. You remember what led you to where you currently are.

“Father,” you breathe out and lift your hands to grab his arms and huff out with relief. “Father!”

“My girl,” he coos and finally offers you a smile as you’re calm now. “Hello.”

You offer him a smile but don’t redirect his greeting. Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “My twins?” You ask and he sighs before he offers you an assuring smile.

“They’re fine. You on the other hand…” he trails off and his face falls with pity and heavy concern. “My girl, do you know where you are?”

You blink repeatedly and come up with a quick idea. “I think so. I think,” you pant out and face him with worry. “Maybe I’m dead?”

He breathes out and neither nods nor shakes his head, he parts his lips and gives you a response instead. “Not yet, but you can choose to.”

“Choose to?” You echo and shake your head before probing in more confusion. “I don’t understand. I thought I died.”

He shakes his head. “Not yet, that’s why you can choose. You can pass on and stay here, or you can leave this place. You can also choose to live. That’s the difference between me and you. You just have to know what you want.”

You slowly let go of him and think over his words as if it were some great mystery when what he said and what it meant is clear as day.

“Do you know what you want?” He asks and looks deep into your averted gaze.

“I,” you mouth and breathe out before you drag your eyes up and face him with a sense of confusion on how to answer his question because why would you want to go back?

You did have some great plans you went over with Cregan, but as you’re here, in this great limbo with your father on the beach without any pain or worry, why would you want to leave to suffer?

You don’t want to cry anymore. You don’t want to live through more loss. You don’t want to suffer any more pain. You want to stay here where you can be by the sea, breathing in the salty air, and being with a man you love.

“I don’t know,” you mutter under your breath and look away shamefully as if waiting for him to scold you and try to argue with you. Albeit he just pats your arms before he strokes your cheeks.

“That’s okay, take your time.”

You meet his dark eyes and offer him a thankful smile before you once again look around at where you are.

Your father follows your line of gaze and takes a step away from you to finally probe. “Why did you choose the beach?”

You turn around to face the endless blue sea and answer without having to think about it. “Because it’s where I was always the happiest. It’s where I would come with my brothers and the others. It’s where you taught me to fish and how to read the stars. It’s where you taught me to sing sailor shanties.” You share and giggle breathlessly before you look over at him and finally wonder why he’s here when he should be long gone with the man he never stopped loving.

“Why are you here, father? Shouldn’t you be with your partner Joffrey?” You ask, making him scoff and look out at the peaceful waters that you stand in front of.

“No,” he then answers quietly. “I’m where I’m meant to be.”

You meet his gaze and try to dig deep for the real answer, but you can’t find it in his eyes or find any clue in between his body language, so you accept his answer as it is.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” He interjects and steals all your divided attention. “You…have come so far,” he muses. “My little siren.” He laughs breathlessly and steps forward to once again grab your face. “You have grown into such a strong and beautiful young woman.”

“Father,” you mouth as your eyes start to fill with tears, making the sight of him turn blurry.

“You are a good mother, and you are a good daughter. Despite all your doubts, you are a good daughter, your mother knows that. I know that. You are just young, you will make mistakes, but the important thing is you admit them and learn from them, but never shame yourself because of those mistakes.”

More tears overfill your eyes, causing them to break out and roll down your cheeks.

“I love you, my girl,” he continues in the same soft and affectionate way as if he didn’t have all the time in the world despite being dead—“you are my greatest achievement. You are what I’m most proud of and I’m,” his voice breaks and tears fill his own eyes. “…I’m sorry for leaving. I hurt you and I’m sorry. You needed me and I left. I tried to come back. I was on my way back to see you, but I…” he trails off and his tears roll down. “…that’s when I died. You believe me right?”

You lift your hands to grab his jaw and offer him a wobbly smile before you nod. “I do. I believe you because I saw it in a vision from a good witch.”

He scoffs in amusement and you giggle before you slide your hands down and proceed to throw them around his neck to pull him in for an embrace.

“I forgive you, Father,” you assure him and unknowingly offer him everything he had been waiting for.

You finally give him the forgiveness that he was waiting for to move on to peace.

“I love you, and I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” his voice cracks as he hugs you back with a tight force. “And I love you more than anything.”

You weep on his shoulder and grip onto him as if your life depended on it. “Father,” you cry and unleash a very shaky and heavy breath that feels like you shed off a weight you did not know you had been carrying on your shoulders.

“It’s okay to be selfish,” he whispers. “No one will shame you for it if it’s what you want.”

You pull away slowly and wipe your tears before you look him in the eyes and continue with a quiver as you talk through your pain. “I don’t want—”

Albeit before you can finish, there’s other people that catch your eye. There in the distance, along the shoreline are your three brothers; Joffrey, Lucerys, and Jacaerys. They’re here too and the sight of them makes you forget the pain you were about to share and the choice you didn’t know if you wanted to make. You were going to debate it, but now as you see your brothers all you can think about is going to them.

“Go,” your father tells you as he sees what you focus on. “They’re waiting for you.”

You quickly look back at him and query. “Are you sure?”

He holds your gaze and stares at you for a lingering second before he nods softly. “I’m sure. Go.”

You offer him one last giddy smile before you peel away and face your beloved brothers. “Joffrey! Luke! Jace!”

All three boys turn to look at you and you throw your hand in the air and wave.

Lucerys is the first to respond with a sweet smile before Joffrey waves you over.

You then don’t debate your choice or look back at your father, you move your foot forward and go to them.

~~~~~~~

*NOW*

A breath unfurls from your lungs and escapes past your lips. Your once deadly grip on your blade's handle loosens, and your feet shift into a fighting stance as you lock eyes with Daeron.

“I am sorry—”

“Shut up,” you grimace and lunge forward to swing Blackfyre at his neck, but Daeron is quick to block your attempts and then push you back, causing you to grunt and then proceed to thrust violently.

However, Daeron then throws his body to the side to avert your action, but you don’t let him collect himself and come up with some alternative. You overwhelm him by swinging your blade again.

Albeit Daeron meets your blade with his once more, causing a sharp clinging to ring out against the sound of men fighting and dying, dragon wings clapping as they flap in the sky, fire blasting out of their mouths, and crying as you hear them fighting.

Nevertheless, it’s while your swords are pressed against each other, and your eyes are locked on one another that you slip one hand off your blade handle and curl your fist to throw him an uppercut that makes him stumble back. After that, you probably would have followed with a kick, but with your belly weighing you down you can’t, so instead, you opt to rush him and throw your blade down. Albeit Daeron follows up by throwing his own blade up to meet your actions before he manages to drop one hand to grab your wrist and try to shove you back.

“I don’t want to fight you. It’s not fair!” He cries out to try and make you listen. “And above all else, you’re my niece. We grew up together, doesn’t that count for something?”

Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes narrow to a nasty glare. “Aegon grew up with my mother and he still took her throne. He was a man capable of thinking for himself. He could’ve fought back, but he didn’t, he still took my mother's throne,” you growl and use your strength to try and push him off you, but his grip only tightens and he pushes back against you, causing you to drop one hand to grab onto his forearm and try to rip his grip off your wrist that holds you captive.

“And you still chose to fight against her. She would have given you a spot beside her!” You cry in anger. “But you still betrayed her and for what? A mother that hardly cares about you? Brothers that forget you exist?” You scoff and shoot him a smirk to try and piss him off, but he’s more emotionally mature. Daeron slides his hand off your wrist instead and then presses it against your chest to shove you back with a strength that’s enough to make you lose contact and stumble back.

You try to quickly find your balance to counter, but Daeron then kicks dirt and ash in your eyes, causing a roaring cry to rip out from your throat and break through all the barriers of noise that surround you, while your sword falls from your hands as you fling yourself around and fall to your knees to try and wipe the trash out of your stinging eyes.

“What the hell?!” You hiss and groan as you frantically rub your eyes.

“Is that what you want?!” Daeron remarks and steps forward, but you manage to crawl away and throw your hand back.

“Don’t you dare,” you snap back and go back to rubbing your eyes.

“You really think this is what Aemond would want?” He throws out as if he knew the man Aemond grew up to be. He only knew a child, he didn’t know the man he was.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss and drop your hand to blink hard and repeatedly, whilst also feeling your eyes overflow with tears that try to wash out all the trash in your eyes—“don’t talk about him like you know him,” you remark and finally manage to see the ground. It’s cloudy, but you can still see it nonetheless so you continue to crawl away in search of a weapon.

“You didn’t know him,” your voice cracks. “Your mother didn’t know him. Aegon didn’t. Only I did…he was mine and he’s gone now because of your family. Because of you! So shut up.”

“What happened to you?” He asks boldly as he stays where he is and watches you aimlessly move away from him and your sword—“You used to be kind-hearted. You were good and now…”

“I’m everything you and your family made me,” you finish his sentence and feel your breath catch in your throat when you see an intact bow and scattered arrows just beneath a burnt corpse.

“No, no I don’t believe that,” he says as he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re starting to pull at something.

“The girl I knew is still there. You were the Realm’s Golden Girl,” he goes on rambling. “I don’t believe you could have fallen this far.”

You manage to get the bow out so you test your luck with one arrow so as to not risk raising suspicion by reaching for the other arrow scattered further away from you.

“Believe what you want. I do not care,” you grumble and align your arrow with the bow before you throw yourself around and garner his attention.

Daeron sees your intentions and tries to quickly react, but without thinking too much about your aim because of your blurry eyesight, you let the arrow go, and in that flash of a second after the arrow flies through the air, you manage to pierce Daeron through his eye.

And as soon the arrow hits his face you gasp with surprise while he freezes in place as he’s overcome with disbelief over what just happened.

Yet it’s while he’s caught in his paralyzing shock that you drop the bow and hastily push yourself to your feet to be able to run toward Blackfyre abandoned on the ground, giving Daeron the push to snap out of his stupor and finally realize he’s in agonizing pain and also targeted for another attack.

Although the arrow pierced through his eye makes him slow, he’s still dealing with his paralyzing shock which doesn’t let him be as fast as he wants to be. Thus he does what he can and throws his hand out as you stride toward him with your hands reeling your sword back, and he stammers, “Wait—”

However, you don’t let him finish his sentence before you swing your sword with every ounce of strength you can muster, managing to cut through his neck and slice his head clean off his shoulders with a loud cry of determination.

When the head hits the ground a loud and solemn cry pierces through the sky in the distance, but you ignore it and instead let out a heavy breath and follow your body forward toward the wall of fire as you stumble due to the strength you used, letting the flames consume you as you stand there in your disbelief.

Killing Daeron didn’t affect you. You don’t feel a twinge of grief or remorse. You’re just surprised it happened. You killed Daeron.

What does that make you feel? Deep inside.

You blink as hard as you can to keep trying to remove the dirt still stuck in your eyes and think about it.

There’s no grief. No guilt or remorse. Do you feel relieved?

No.

Do you feel proud?

You tilt your head up toward the sky and blink repeatedly a few more times to finally rid your eyes of all the gunk Daeron kicked at you to blind you and finally see clearly, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

You make out the screen of smoke that pollutes the air and completely covers the starry sky and its illuminating light. You see the thick ash that falls down to the earth like snowflakes fall, and in between all that ugly pollution you find your answer to your question, and it’s a no. You don’t feel proud, you only feel a hunger for more. You still feel…unsatisfied. Like you’re missing something.

How funny, killing Daeron was supposed to satisfy your thirst for blood for a while, just until you reached Kings Landing and sought revenge for what the Smallfolk did to your mother and the dragons. Albeit not an ounce of that thirst is satisfied.

So it’s true what they say? Killing out of revenge won’t satisfy someone?

Well…it has to. It has to mean something!

Thus you bring your head down and walk out of the fire with your chainmail burning red because of the heat, and your fur cloak burning behind you as you walk over and collect Daeron’s head off the ground.

“Goodbye uncle, it was nice knowing you,” you mutter to his bleeding head without meaning a word as you lift it to look at him in his lifeless brown eye. “They’ll remember you because of me,” you add before you drop your arm and roll your shoulders back as you let out a deep breath. You then walk away from the small empty space and walk over dead body after dead body littered on the battlefield ground and reach a boulder that stands at the center of all the chaos.

Before you climb on the large boulder though, you look down at the head you carry and force pride upon yourself. You think about the wave of encouragement and hope all your men will feel upon seeing Daeron’s head, and that fills you with excitement and more pride that you couldn’t muster before.

And it’s only once those emotions now rush through you that you start to climb the boulder without caring if you’re dragging Blackfyre against the stone, or that blood is staining your hand. You climb the boulder and reach the top, seeing multiple banners spread throughout the thick of the battlefield all waving the same red three-headed dragon against a black background, and you think of her, your mother, and your Queen.

She won’t have to worry about Daeron or his dragon anymore. It’s not the guarantee she needs to end this war, but it’s one less piece of the board. You can win and she will ascend her throne.

You believe it with your whole heart and it’s that belief that overflows your running heart with enthusiasm and malice.

“The Daring is dead!” You make your voice boom, catching the attention of your men and your enemies before you throw your hand up to show off the head like a trophy, causing an eruption of cheers and gasps alike.

“BLOOD DRAGON!”

“BLOOD DRAGON!” The cheers of your alias scatter around the field, causing goosebumps to spread over your skin and a smile to spread on your lips.

“FOR—” you cut yourself off as a large shadow casts over you, making you roll your head back and catch Daeron’s cobalt dragon, Tessarion torpedoing toward you with its mouth open.

Yet even if you do see the potential danger, you don’t turn to run or shield yourself because you know and feel Astraea behind you, flying directly toward the threat to protect you. Besides, Tessarion can’t burn you with her flames like she thinks she can, so you welcome the rain of fire with a wicked smile

Even then as the fire barrels over you, you basically just get scraped because Astraea rams into Tessarion and shoves her to the ground with a loud boom that shakes the ground and makes a crater.

“<Good girl,>” you praise your dragon even if she can’t hear you before you rip your attention away and search for Addam and Seasmoke.

Luckily, or maybe not so luckily you spot him in the distance caught in a dance between Seasmoke and Vermithor.

You look out for Silverwing, but you don’t catch her anywhere, it’s just Vermithor against Seasmoke, but is that really relieving?

Not in the slightest because Vermithor is the largest dragon. He has more battle experience than Seasmoke, and much more power in his fire and whatever hits he throws. He could find a way to kill Seasmoke if his rider is smart enough.

All while Tessarion is now riderless and smaller. Without a rider, she’s aimless in this fight, so you need to help Addam and Seasmoke first. You can then worry about Silverwing and Tessarion if they turn out to be a threat.

Therefore, you descend the boulder with haste and turn in your dragon's direction, seeing at that moment as if having read your thoughts, Astraea leaving Tessarion stranded and struggling on the ground so you can meet each other halfway, and hastily climb her after sheathing your sword.

“<Let's go help Seasmoke and Addam,>” you tell her while you shove Daeron’s decapitated head into a saddlebag. Albeit was there really a need to tell her what you wanted? Astraea had already met up with you without needing to be told, and she knows what it is you want and your desperate desire because she feels it too.

~~~~~~~

“Jace! Luke! Joffrey!”

There’s nothing that can stop you. No obstacle, no force, or divine intervention. There’s only them at the other end of that sandy beach as if they’re encouraging you to the big finish line. They call out your name with excitement and big smiles, only further exciting your already racing heart, and fueling your encouragement already running at high speed in order to let you reach them out of fear that they are a figment of your imagination.

“Jace!” You call out again with tears running off your face and joining the windy breeze. “Joffrey! Luke!” You say with a wobbly grin illuminating your once gloomy face.

Once you finally break through all the barriers that stood in between and cross that finish line to reach them, they can’t hold their excitement either, they run to you as you run to them and throw your arms around each other while you all laugh a quivering laugh and grin as you’re overfilled with joy.

“You're all here,” you say with a whimper and cling onto them tighter. “I missed you.”

“We missed you too,” Joffrey offers you some consolation before you all pull away, letting you crouch to grab your youngest brother's shoulders and look at him with pity.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to save you, Joffrey.”

Said boy offers you a half smile and shrugs. “It's okay, I had a great death.”

You frown and he sighs before he closes the gap to wrap you in an embrace that just involves him and you.

“Don’t forget me,” he says with a quiver. “And tell Mother I am sorry. If you decide to return that is. Will you?” He doesn’t let you give him a response to his previous comments before he bombards you with a heavy question and pulls away to look at you with an impatient stare.

“Joffrey lay off her,” Jacaerys warns your brother, making you stand up and slowly drag your eyes up to face him. “Don't start crying on us. We know,” he breathes out. “We know all the guilt, the shame, and the longing, so just don’t repeat it.”

You laugh softly and nod before snapping your attention to Lucerys. “Luke,” you greet him softly, making him offer you a sweet and childlike smile.

“I missed you,” he tells you and steals a small breath from your chest.

“I,” you breathe out. “I missed you too.”

Lucerys smile widens before he walks over to wrap his arm around your waist, letting you wrap your arm around his shoulders.

“Are you here to stay?” Lucerys now presses, causing you to sigh and drop your head whilst you all begin walking forward along the shoreline, unbeknownst to the fact that your father is no longer behind you or waiting for that matter. He’s passed because it was your forgiveness that he was waiting for and now that he has it he can know peace. He would help you find the answer to what you want, but that’s something he can’t assist with, that’s an answer only you can come up with.

“I don’t…know…” you trail off and lift your head to look at the blue sky with wonder and confusion.

“I…am so sick and tired of just feeling agony, of losing people, and losing parts of me in this war that staying is more tempting than I care to admit. But on the other hand, I have people depending on me to continue fighting. So,” you pause and swallow back the lump that forms in your throat. “I don’t know.”

Jacaerys hums and you stop walking, causing your arm to slip off Lucerys shoulder whilst his arm also slides off you as you linger behind with your head down and your eyes full of tears.

“Would you,” you pause and hear them come to a stop and shift around against the sand to look at you and wait for the rest of what you were building up to say.

“…would you be mad if I chose to stay here with you all?” You ask and draw in a shaky breath before you slowly face them with tears running down your cheeks. “Would it be selfish of me to trade my pain for an eternity of happiness here on this beach with you? Because I want to…I want to stay. I want to be happy and laugh again. I want to be with you, I don’t want to go back and live on without you!”

Jacaerys and Lucerys share the same pitiful look before Jacaerys steps forward to speak his peace. “I would drag you back because you have the chance we didn’t, but,” he sighs deeply. “If staying is what you want. If that’s what will make you happy, who am I to keep you from happiness? Besides, life here would be a little less boring with you.” He says and offers you that ever-so-heartwarming smile that brightens this moment just a little more.

“I,” you part your lips as your heart yearns to be with them, but before you can give them your answer, water splashes over the side of your face and that of your brothers. When you look over at where the water came from you see that Joffrey was the mischievous culprit.

“Of course it was you,” you remark lightheartedly and push aside the choice you were going to make to run over and grab Joffrey and throw him over your shoulder.

“No, let me go!” He exclaims between laughs, but you run deeper in the water to drop him and make a big splash that makes him burst out laughing even harder.

Lucerys and Jacaerys then join in on the harmless fun in the water as they see you and Joffrey getting carried away; choosing to splash water on each other and or shove each other in the water like you would on those hot summer days when you were young.

For a while you get everything you just said you wanted; you laugh like you haven’t laughed in months. You flash a beaming smile and forget all about the chaos that is your life outside of this limbo. For a moment as you’re having fun with your brothers in the water, it's almost like your heart is set on a decision.

You want to stay. You want to live in this happiness under the sun. You don’t want to wake up under a cloudy sky without your brothers. You want to stay with them for as long as you can. And almost as if to solidify your choice, there in the distance shining in your eyes like the bright sun is your beloved, your Aemond…

~~~~~

*NOW*

Beneath your most desperate desire lies another need. A wicked need just fueled by anger and hate.

A rather unnecessary need to see through because your fight is outside the walls and all the fighting men that are inside Tumbleton’s walls are coming out to join the fight, or are already affected by the chaos the surprise attack caused.

Yet as unnecessary as the need is, the need is still a rather burning desire to rain fire on the entire town as if they’re single-handedly at fault for being taken and sacked by the enemy.

The need makes you itch to follow through with it. The need screams at your mind to tell Astraea to make a sharp turn and fly toward the town. You feel a pressure building within to unleash all that you have balled up inside you, but…you have more control than easily giving into that specific desire, besides, Addam needs your help and that takes priority. So, you continue to fly toward him at a quick speed while also thanking the fact that this fight is taking place at night because Astraea can take cover through the shadows that the wildfires and scattered firelight leave untouched.

Albeit you also grow to resent that night because it makes it harder to see Vermithor and Seasmoke fighting. You can see them tangled on the ground, and you can hear them snapping at each other while they also growl and cry, but this cover makes it difficult to make out their figures so you can know where to hit. And it’s not like you can unleash a blast of fire because Addam could get hurt in the process. You have to rely on Astraea, and you have to strain your eyes.

Much to your conflicted mind though, when you get close enough, you see that Vermithor’s saddle is empty. Ser Hugh is not strapped on his dragon, and you can’t say that he’s crushed, burnt, or eaten because there would be evidence on the saddle or lack thereof, but the saddle is intact. So does that mean…Vermithor is fighting out of his own will? He has to be. And is Ser Hugh dead?

That’s a question you don’t ponder or care to learn the answer to now. Right now you scan the scene as much as the visibility allows you to, finding an opening on Vermithor’s belly.

An attack there would give Seasmoke wiggle room to get out of the entanglement.

Hence you nudge the handles on your saddle down to try and guide Astraea in that direction, but it seems she was already thinking the same thing because she tucks her wings and completely head butts Vermithor’s belly, bringing both male dragons to an abrupt stop, and then forcing Vermithor to unlock his jaw off Seasmoke’s wing to snap back and try to throw his jaw down on Astraea.

Alas, your dragon bites down hard and swings her head to the side, creating a deep gash on Vermithor’s belly that makes him bellow out in pain.

Seasmoke then sees his opening and slips away from Vermithor. You look over and see him try to rise, but his wing is too battered to use, he can’t pick himself off the ground.

“Addam!” You call out as loud as you can so your voice can be carried out. “Addam!”

Said man catches wind of his name traveling through the breeze and his attention falls on you.

“Jump off the dragon!” You try to tell him as Astraea and Vermithor are fighting. “Jump off!” You shout at the top of your lungs as you also try to motion with your hands so you can get your point across and so he can continue to have some fighting chance.

“Addam! Jump! Please!” You continue to plead before you throw your hand out to offer to him and let him know that you will help him. You can get out of this together.

Alas, Addam holds your pleading gaze and shakes his head as he understands well what it is you’re trying to say. He doesn’t try to yell out his response, he just hits his chest with his fist the same way you tap each other's chest with your own fists.

“No,” you mewl and clutch onto your handles to try and nudge Astraea toward Addam and Seasmoke. However, just as Astraea pulls her jaw away from Vermithor’s belly, from the cover of night falls a blast of fire that unfurls over Astraea and you.

It’s a good thing that you don’t burn or else this is where you would have met your end. The only thing that happened was that you were caught by surprise so much that your heart leaped. Besides that and the rest of your fur cloak burning off, Astraea and you come out unscathed.

Actually, your dragon just comes out more enraged, so as Seasmoke is aiming for her neck, she snaps around as the fire is dying out to be able to whip her tail and throw him off his intended path.

“Addam!” You yell out without paying any mind to what happened or Tessarion’s possible retaliation. You turn your body against your saddle to search and find Vermithor shifting his focus back to Seasmoke.

“Addam!” You call out desperately, hurting every possible muscle aligning your throat to get your voice across, and actually manage to catch his attention.

Addam snaps his head to the side and his eyes fall on you. You can see his dark brown eyes through the cloud of debris that floats in the air and the scattered light that finds room in between you both, and you have the need to continue trying to get your plea across, but you know he’ll just ignore you, so you just narrow your gaze to a more determined look and offer him a small smile.

Addam returns your smile and holds your gaze for a second longer before Astraea throws herself in the air to tackle Tessarion while she tries to regain her balance, and shoves her to the ground.

You trust Astraea to fight so you turn your head to focus back on Addam, catching at that moment Seasmoke biting down on Vermithor’s neck with so much force that the bronze dragon begins to gush out blood.

Your eyes brighten with glee, and your first thought is to search for Addam.

Nevertheless, as you’re searching, Vermithor then counters the attack and clamps his jaw hard on Seasmoke’s throat before, with one forceful yank, rips Seasmoke’s head clean off his neck.

Your eyes peel back with shock and horror at that moment, but you still try to call out for Addam. You still continue to search for him, but you can’t find him. Once again your attention is pulled away, and this time it’s by Tessarion tangling her body around Astraea and rolling her on the ground.

You quickly bend over your saddle to avoid being thrashed around in the midst of the dragons rolling on the ground, whilst Astraea lets out a sharp cry as she swings her claws on any part of Tessarion she can reach, causing the cobalt dragon to stop in her actions and unleash Astraea from her hold.

Once your dragon has her feet on the ground you sit up and notice Tessarion struggling to get up so you look away and frantically search for Addam.

This time though you don’t find his face. You don’t meet his eyes. You see the headless corpse of Seasmoke bleeding out on the ground but no sign of Addam trying to find a way out, so you panic. You shouldn’t, there’s a high chance he was unharmed, but you still panic, so without caring about Vermithor dragging himself away, or Tessarion and Astraea still at each other's throats, you unbuckle yourself and hastily unmount your dragon to run through the blood-soaked ground.

You trip and fall on your hands and knees, staining your skin and your chainmail gown of dragon blood that lets out steam due to how hot it is, but you don’t stop to linger, your mind and your heart don’t let you stop. You run and run as fast as your body can let you, feeling your chest rise and fall quickly with heavy pants, and feeling your heartbeat quicken bit by bit as you approach Seasmoke’s saddle and fail to see Addam walk out unscathed or minimally injured.

“Addam!” You call out in hopes he’ll assure you he’s fine as he hears you approach him, but you don’t receive a response. Besides, all the calamity already surrounding you, his voice doesn’t rise over the clamoring.

Which is why you go again. “Addam?!”

You wait for a response but once again you fail to get one, so instead of quickening your pace, you slow down and focus on your pounding heart rather than ignoring the panic that makes it race with so much haste.

“Addam?” You call out weakly and press your hand on Seasmoke’s corpse to run it over his scales as you approach the saddle.

You don’t want to expect the worst due to Addam’s lack of response but you have already lost so much. You’ve been the butt of death's joke so many times that you prepare yourself mentally to face tragedy.

“Addam?” You whisper as you start to round the corner and stay connected to Seasmoke to try and spare your poor heart from what may await you.

Yet you can’t avoid the truth forever because if Addam is injured he might need your help. So with a few heavy breaths, you slip your hand off Seasmoke and finish turning that corner to finally come face to face with the saddle, and see Addam lying on the ground. You don’t pay attention if his back is moving with every breath, your eyes go wide as you gasp and a heightened sense of panic shoots through your heart, causing you to break into a sprint.

“Addam!” You call out with that sense of panic laced in your voice.

When you reach him you continue to not listen for his breaths. You don’t take note of his neck bent at an odd angle, you just see blood leaking out from a gash on his head and work to unstrap him from his saddle.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “You’ll be okay. I will put pressure on the wound. I know how to do that. I can do it until we reach a healer.”

Once again the response is silence, but you don’t care, you manage to unhook him from his saddle and hook your arms under his arms to drag him back onto the stable ground.

“You did great, you know that?” You continue as you use all your strength to drag his heavy body back with you. “I killed Daeron, I took his head and I want to,“ you pause to groan. “…give it to his mother. Which sounds cruel, but alas I do not care. She deserves it for what she caused, don’t you think?” You ask and lay him down on his back, catching the way his eyes are half-lidded and the blood running out of his gash is no longer bright crimson, but dark.

“Addam?” You call out and lose every ounce of warmth that was building up in your voice as you wanted to be oblivious. “Addam?” Your voice cracks and your heart slowly sinks down to your stomach, but you don’t come to any conclusion yet. First, you turn his head so it’s not bent at a concerning angle, and then, rip a long piece of fabric from your gown's skirt to wrap it around his head and apply pressure on his wound.

“You’re all patched up,” you strain to say as he remains motionless and with his eyes half-lidded. “Addam? Did you hear me?”

You bring your hands down from his head and press them on his chest to shake him gently so he can wake up, but he doesn’t even twitch. Thus you press your palm over his heart and wait.

Wait. And wait.

You even hold your breath as if that was in the way of letting you feel a single beat of his heart, but even in the silence that surrounds you and him, you fail to feel his heart thump under your palm. There’s not even a weak and soft thump, his heart is still. Lifeless…

“Addam?” Your voice quivers and you proceed to drag your hands up to grab his shoulders and shake him gently. “Addam?!” You croak, but there’s not even a groan or a pained gasp. He lies there breathless with his eyes lifeless and dull.

“A…Addam,” you keep calling out in hopes something will change when you know the truth. You had known it since the moment he failed to respond to your call the first time because even though there was a chance he was just unconscious then, you knew deep inside that life wouldn't treat you that kindly and death wouldn’t spare someone you loved just for you to suffer less. Yet you still tried to cling onto some fragment of hope. You wished desperately for there to be a positive outcome, but…there isn’t. Addam is dead…that's what all his wounds mean. He’s dead.

“Addam!” You cry and shake him again, but like before there’s no response so you let go of his shoulders and lift your hands to stroke his face still kept warm. “Please,” you plead, but not to Addam, to life, to destiny, the gods, or death. You pleaded to any divinity that existed so they could provide you with a miracle and not steal the life of yet someone else you loved.

Alas, they also ignore you and you're left on your knees having to cradle Addam’s body in your arms and continue to be ignorant of the fact that lies before you. “Please. Please!” You bellow out and tilt your head up, causing your glossy eyes and tear-pampered face to glisten under the light of the scattered fires on the battlefield.

“Cregan?! Cregan!” You call out and strain your throat as you do so, but he doesn’t come. There’s not even a glimpse, so you drop your head and face Addam’s lifeless face feeling powerless and useless.

“I’m sorry,” you weep and press your forehead on his. “I’m so sorry, Addam…why did you have to leave me too?”

You draw in a shaky breath and close your eyes as you rock his body back and forth with you.

You would cry harder, you would plead with every fiber of your being. You would be mad, and try to curse life, but you have already lost so much. You faced death so much that this time you feel so worn out. You can’t keep pleading for some miracle or for life to be just. You accept death even as your heart aches, even as your throat hurts with how much you’re crying, and even through the way your chest tightens and tightens to the point it feels like you can’t breathe.

When you let him go you do so without your usual fight because you don’t have the energy to keep falling apart every time you lose someone. You can’t do it again, so you press a kiss on his forehead, wipe your bloody hands over his face to close his eyes, and leave him next to Seasmoke.

“Astraea,” you call out with a shaky breath and walk away from Seasmoke and Addam to try and search for your dragon since you hear her moving on the ground nearby and hear Tessarion mewling out like an injured cat. You don’t care to look for Vermithor, you just have one dragon in mind so you can fly off the battlefield.

Alas, when you walk past Seasmoke’s corpse the first thing you notice is Cregan in the distance. He steals your attention, and you steal his too, but unlike you, he’s hit with fear when he sees the blood that covers your body because from where he stands he doesn’t know if it belongs to you or not. All he sees is blood and it seems like all he’s filled with is panic because you catch his lips part while his brown eyebrows knit together.

Now you should somehow show that you aren’t the one wounded, but the moment your eyes fall on him and you see that he’s looking right at you, you point your eyes behind you with a sorrowful look before you face him again and break into a more heartbroken sob whilst the agony you’re under heightens.

Yet you’re not paralyzed. You take a forward to try and meet him halfway, but the moment you do you catch the glimpse of something glistening against the firelight in the distance, so you look. You don’t know why, but you do, you stop in your tracks and look over. That’s when your breath catches when you notice an archer aiming his arrow at you.

There’s no mistaking it. His arrow is way too small to hurt Astraea or any of the other dragons, and due to all the beasts nearby, no one dares to be close. No one except him, so there’s no mistaking it. The archer is aiming at you, you meet his hardened gaze under the orange-yellow light of the flickering fire and make out his determination clearly because you have reflected those emotions in your own eyes many times before.

It’s why you know that it’s dangerous and impossible to break, and it’s why you try to throw yourself on the ground to hide and be able to throw off his aim, but the man quickly lets the arrow go. And just as you turn away to throw yourself on the ground, the tip of the arrow scrapes along the side of your head, making panic and shock hold you in place. All the while Cregan feels his breath catch and a paralyzing fear wash over him.

He wants to yell out your name and warn you to duck, but the archer is faster than he is at catching his breath and pulling himself back together after seeing the love of his life being hit on the side of the head. The archer actually manages to send off another arrow before the great fearless Lord of Winterfell, and you could react, managing to pierce the arrow right above your left breast, just inches from hitting your heart.

This time Cregan bellows out your name when you hit the ground as if startled out of his paralyzing shock and sprints over to throw himself on the first horse he finds to ride it towards you at full speed, fearing that the archer will go after you and finish the job he started. Yet perhaps his fear is now misplaced because your wounded dragon finally seems to be hit with the knowledge that you’re hurt and snaps her neck around, finding the archer responsible right away, and piercing her glare into him before blasting a ball of fire in his direction without needing to be told.

Astraea acts on her own will a moment too late to spare you from being hit, but she does counter out of anger, and pain that she doesn’t physically feel but feels through your tethered connection, managing to catch the archer on fire as he accepts his fate.

Once the archer is dead and no longer a threat, Astraea walks over to you and sniffs your unconscious body before she mewls out as if calling out your name. When she doesn’t get a response she nudges you to turn you on your back and then nudges you again as if pressing for a response, for a sign you’re okay, but your eyes remain closed and you continue to not move a muscle.

However, just like you, Astraea remains defiant on accepting a tragic reality and instead tilts her head to watch you closely. When she catches your chest moving with the breaths you take she backs away, and then flaps her wings to push herself off the ground and fly toward you to scoop you off the ground with her claws before Cregan can reach you.

He was right there, he was about to jump off his horse, but Astraea scooped you off the ground first.

“Astraea!” He calls out desperately. “Put her down! I can help her!” He tells your dragon and walks toward her, but as he gets close Astraea snaps at him as a warning before she turns away and flies off without caring that her wounds are bleeding or that the man she knew you trusted was there. She just thinks about you getting better and flies away to some place she knows you’ll be safe.

Or so she thinks…

~~~~~~

Even though you saw your father and your brothers in this limbo as you lie between a state of life and death, no one shines brighter than him, Aemond.

Many people would shame you for feeling such joy and putting him on such a high pedestal after the pain he has caused you, but how can you play the victim when you’ve hurt him too?

Besides, they wouldn’t understand how deeply you love him, and how much you miss him despite loving someone else and securing your future with your other lover.

No one will ever understand that he is the love and loss of your life and that’s okay because no one but one another needs to understand your intertwined souls.

“I will be back,” you tell your brothers breathlessly over your shoulder and don’t wait for their response. Your heart and every muscle in your body drive you to Aemond’s waiting embrace.

“<My love,>” he coos in Valyrian as he entangles his arms around you and holds you against him, letting you find solace in the sound of his beating heart that truly beats like no other.

“Aemond,” you whisper and nuzzle your face against his chest to breathe in his scent lost to your memory over the months he’s been dead, and time you’ve had away from anything that could smell like him.

“Aemond,” you say again, but this time your voice trembles as you grin and cry.

“I’m here,” he whispers against the top of your head before he presses a kiss on it and nuzzles his nose against your head.

Neither of you proceed to move away. You stay in each other's embrace until your hearts and your breaths are in sync, and you’re familiar with each other's warmth once again.

“Is this really how you see yourself?” You ask as you cup Aemond’s face and stroke his cheek with your fingers.

Aemond grabs your hand and drops his head, causing you to cover his eye and scar for a brief moment. When he lifts his head back up the scar that was left over his eye is gone, and the sapphire is replaced with his eye.

“I never minded the sapphire though,” you assure him as you move your hand back to his cheek. “I thought you looked sexy with it.”

Aemond scoffs and smiles timidly at the ground.

“But I know you never liked it,” you add and regain his attention.

“I missed you,” he says as he presses a kiss on your palm. “It’s not the same without you by my side…but even then…I was cruel to you…I hurt you even though you were the one that I loved the most.”

You sigh and take in his words before you interject. “I hurt you too. I’m not innocent.”

Aemond holds your gaze and doesn’t respond. He swallows thickly before he continues. “Perhaps, but I never should have done anything to hurt you or drive you away. I’m sorry. I wish…I could take it all back.”

Tears well in his eyes, making your heart ache. He was not one to cry so when he does it feels like a knife to your heart.

“I’m sorry too,” you don’t let him take all the blame even though he was avoiding yours. “Will you forgive me?”

His eyes narrow for a brief second before he nods gently and then presses you. “Will you forgive me?”

You smile at him and nod. “Of course.”

His lips twitch to a smile before he drops his forehead on yours and simply basks in your presence.

“We’re together now,” you whisper against him. “And we’ll never—” you cut yourself off as the sound of a girl laughing behind you cuts you off.

You want to ignore it. You’re going to ignore it, but then there’s a manly yet soft voice speaking that steals your attention, making you pull away from Aemond. When you peer over your shoulder you see two beautiful young women with white-silver hair and a tall and slim young man with them with the same colored hair.

Now they shouldn’t be familiar, you have never seen them in your life, but when you study their faces and their colored eyes, you recognize them. From head to toe, you know that they are your children; Aerion, Daenerys, and Daenys.

They’re not dead or in any state of in-between. You know that. You know they’re here by the sheer power of your mind and it’s need to keep you fighting.

Your mind wants to keep you away from making a choice that will seal your fate, and how better to spark your motivation than to show you a glimpse of your children?

The children you love the most, the children you are willing to give your own life for just to keep them alive. It’s true you have been selfish lately, you have put them last, but you want to get to know them. You want to watch them grow up. You don’t want to lose them, but they’re getting away. They’re walking away!

“Wait!” You shout and throw your hand out to try and stop them, but they don’t stop, they keep walking so you try to go after them.

Yet before you can get far, Aemond grabs your hand and stops you.

“What are you doing?” He asks, making you turn around to face him with panic that slowly falls as your face softens.

“I,” you breathe out and pause to look back at your children.

“What do you want?” Aemond queries.

You watch your children, you see them smiling and talking amongst themselves as they get further away and there’s no debate on what you want. Not anymore. Your choice is clear because of them.

“I want to meet the twins,” you say as you slowly start to slip your hand away from Aemond’s grasp. “I want to raise my children. I…I want to live!”

A/N-No break next week is a good one!

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

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ssplague · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 3

Masterlist

Warnings ⛔️ A/B/O themes, soulmates, mating, sex, manipulation, power and control.

Honorable mentions 💌 @lalachanya @mrsmelaninhood

@whatdidshesayyy @faemagic88

@viridianhero @alishii @rv19

@maggiecc @crazy-eight17 @nnubee

“All for you, All because of you”

The sight of you standing in the shadows of the hallway, made Bakugou feel as if the breath had been sucked from his lungs. You look from the angry blonde, to the way he holds your green haired savior. A brief flash of anger reflects in your eyes, while your facial features display abject terror. Seeing your display of negative emotions focused solely upon him, had something in the shifter’s chest aching painfully. “Unhand him! Put him down right now!” You demanded shakily, tears begin to well up in your eyes, quick to overflow and dribble down your cheeks. “He was just trying to help by getting me out of the storm! Please don’t Kill him! PLEASE!” You wailed, feeling absolutely helpless.

The original shock that your sudden appearance had brought on was quick to fade. Each of the men regained their composure, each one’s expression was drastically different from the other’s.

Deku being dropped to the floor has you shrinking back against the wall. Done in attempts to make yourself smaller, hopefully small enough to go unnoticed. Only to realize how stupid that thought was, while the one you now knew as a blood thirsty beast approaches. Flames danced within the crimson stare, its intensity was solely focused on you. A chaotic swell of feelings had resulted from the earlier encounter with Shindo. Even after channeling said feelings Into a rage fueled destruction, the continued heart ache had been too great for his mortal self to endure. So Bakugou had let his draconic side bear the brunt of that emotional onslaught, to which the beast didn’t seem to mind. Now however…with you mere inches away, cowering at his feet, the beastly side of him was fighting like mad to remain in control.

We found her!

Let’s take her, mark her, make her understand there is no escape!

Somehow you had managed to hold his gaze since it landed on you. Despite the fact that your body is shaking like a leaf caught in the wind. For a split second the actual scene infront of him is altered; Rather than being in Deku’s shitty second home the two of you were in the dragon king’s most cherished place, with his fangs piercing your neck as he mounted you from behind. Quick as the vision had come, it just as rapidly dissipated.

Obviously this image was forced to the forefront of his mind on purpose. Pathetic, as if he needed any more incentive to take what was already his.

Her eyes are even more beautiful when she cries…Just look at her, poor thing is wound up as tight as a bow string…

Reminds me of a timid little doe in the forest, ready to run at the first sign of danger…

As Bakugou slowly brings a large hand up towards your face, you flinch instinctively.

“Y/N…I would never harm you…how could your opinion of me have shifted so drastically just from hearing some ridiculous stories?” His voice is soft as he speaks to you, the calloused pad of his thumb drying your tears.

“Are they really just stories? You looked perfectly capable of killing Midoryia right now, maybe you would have even enjoyed doing so…” you gesture toward Izuku as you finally look away from Bakugou. Your heart ached with some strange unspoken need to be close to this man, you couldn’t get him out of your head, “Can we talk somewhere privately?”.

“The bedroom in the very back of the house would be a good spot” your host offers, giving you an encouraging smile, despite rubbing his sore neck.

You turn and walk back down the dark hallway, not looking to see if the Dragon king was following you. Opening the door to a tidy old bedroom containing a bed with a purple patchwork quilt spread out over it, and an old wooden dresser.

Taking a seat on the bed you look down at the floor boards, not even bothering to look up when the bedroom door shuts and the lock clicks. The bed dips slightly as Katsuki comes to sit beside you.

A few minutes of silence pass before you let out the breath you’d kept in, “Im sure you’re expecting me to return to the capital with you tomorrow…and the only way I will agree to come willingly is if there are no more lies…I…well I need to be able to trust my king “

My king

The touch of a warm, rough, palm incased your cheek. The feeling of it enough to get you to look up at its owner. Instantly returning the sentimental gesture by intertwining your fingers with his other hand. “I know what they must have told you about me, I’m sorry you were frightened enough to flee…Its true I have killed countless men and beasts alike…but it was all for the sake of my people! To keep them safe, to earn even more respect than the almighty king of the south had during his reign…Our lands have expanded, we have gained even more allies than ever before, its all been for the greater good my love…all for us to rule over together, we’ll make our kingdom the most prosperous of all of the lands surrounding us” Bakugou spoke so passionately as desire sparked in his crimson irises, his words made you feel inspired and excited in ways you never had felt before.

“I need you with me y/n, I need you by my side as my queen! No one on this entire planet could ever make me feel the way you do…my goddess, let me worship you like you deserve” He spoke so passionately to you, keeping eye contact to demonstrate his honesty. A gentle push had you laying back on the plush mattress, lashes fluttering over you’re half opened eyes as you moved further up the bed to make room for him as well. Rather than laying next to you, the imposing man loomed over the top of you. “Katsuki?” his name left your lips in a breathy sort of simper, causing a low rumble to sound in his chest. His reply is just as gruff sounding as he rasped “Love hearing you say my name…wanna hear you say it every day for the rest of my life”.

“I don’t understand why im so drawn to you, I should be afraid, I should want to run away and put distance between us…but im just so relieved to have you with me once more…MY king” it seemed as if you had accidentally envoked a possessive, borderline seductive lilit With the way you had spoke. Surely that explains the sudden surge of confidence expelling any trace of the shaken, timid person you’d been mere minutes ago. Your sudden change didn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou as he studied you carefully, another pleased rumble rolling through his chest as your fingers carded themselves through messy blonde locks. Closing his eyes allowed him to feel his way through your aura; A pleased hum the possessive emphasis placed on your words Vibrates your throat as your spirit attempted to entangle itself with his own.

Not yet.

The sound of your disappointed whine had his crimson irises re-open to lock with your own. The delectable fragrance you emitted seemed to have strengthened and it takes all of the young king’s will power not to let the drool pooling inside his mouth leak out onto the pillows bellow. Your honeyed scent coated his tongue and clung to the passages inside of his nose. No longer laying dormant, your omega spirit had finally exposed itself to him. Now wide awake, it seemed she wasn’t interested in waiting for any sort of proper ceremonial rigamarole to be claimed by her chosen mate.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” Your innocent sounding voice and wide doe eyes aren’t fooling Bakugou in the slightest.

Still doesn’t stop from making you look so adorably fuckable though…

Moving from over the top of you, the extremely turned on dragon shifter lays down behind you.

Turning on his side, slinging a heavy arm around your body and pulling you closer to him.

“Katsuki?” You ask, confused at his sudden change of heart.

“Sleep, we have a long day to get through tomorrow” he grumbled, kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder. The statement had an air of finality to it, and you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

So much for “worshipping his goddess”….

The following morning the Dragon king wakes up to the sound of birds chirping. Feeling his arm still resting on your plush body, he lets out a pleased rumble, trying to pull you closer. Only to realize it wasn’t you beneath his arm, it was your pillow.

“Y/n!” His voice cracked as he hurriedly sat up, frantic eyes scanning the room for you.

“Dammit!”

Instantly on his feet, a frightened but rapidly growing furious Bakugou berated himself for his foolishness.

You let your guard down and look what happened! She could be miles away by now!

Wrenching the bedroom door open and hurrying down the hallway, the wide open front door has panic gripping his very soul as he imagines losing you again.

“Oh uhm good morning Kaachan”

A sheepish Deku greets his childhood friend warily, in his hands are a tray and three empty cups.

Noticing the look on the blonde man’s face, a smile appears on Deku’s, “Y/N is outside with Kirishima, they seem to have taken a liking to one another! I made sure to save you a couple of the pasteries we had for breakfast, I’ll get them for you”. Ducking his head down to awkwardly lean against the door frame, Katsuki watches your interaction with his idiot friend.

A small pile of wild flowers sit between the two of you, your lips are moving while explaining what your fingers are doing as they carefully braid vines and flowers together. The giant red head is watching intently until you finish the flower crown and place it atop his shitty hair. “I LOVE IT! I’ll cherish it forever!” The fool exclaims happily, sharp teeth on full display as he grins at you. The laughter that follows from you two brings a small smile to the King’s face, shaking his head at the idiot that is Ejiro.

“I poured you some tea to go with your breakfast Kaachan” Izuku calls as he comes down the hallway, appearing with Katsuki’s cloak folded over his arm, “it’s in the kitchen, and here is your cape, it’s all dried now”. Taking the offered cape, Katsuki drapes it over his broad shoulders and enters the kitchen. Grabbing his food to stand at the window where he can continue observing you and Kirishima. It doesn’t take him long to eat the two pastries and drain the cup of tea, and rather than leave the dirtied dishes for the nerd, he washes them.

Glancing out the window once more, Katsuki watches Kirishima attempting to make a flower crown with his clumsy hands and clawed fingers. Seeing the polite smile on your face as you helped shitty scales with patience and undoubtedly kind words…well it did something to Bakugou. The very first time he’d remembered ever experiencing such comfortable warmth extending from the depths of his heart, a feeling of peace that extinguished his always present fury, a softness that cushioned his sharp tongue, was the day he met you….

When word had reached Bakugou that one of the elder dragons was wreaking havoc in the eastern mountain range, he’d immediately felt the need to prove himself once again. It wasn’t just an elderly rogue creature, it was one of the ancient dragons that inhabited these lands long before any human stepped foot upon them. The magnificent beasts are few and far between these days. Some had been slain, others chose to befriend and coexist with humans, the most dangerous had been forcibly sealed away. The latter of which was only carried out when the beast was so formidable that the combined efforts of dragon and human together could not kill It.

Great protest had followed the young royal’s announcement of planning to take on this monster by himself. The naysayers were silenced by the threat of exile or execution should any of them attempt to follow him. The battle between Bakugou and the ancient dragon waged on for three full days, neither of them willing to give up. Once it was all said and done, the Dragon King’s ferocious tenacity won out. With the beast dead at his Royal feet, he shifted back into his human form and set about pulling out teeth, claws, as well as a large gem embedded in the slain beast’s forehead. All of the things the man collected were to serve as more than just trophies in demonstration of his victory. Only when he was finished and the giant satchel was secured around him, did he switch back into his dragon form and take off toward home. It was about halfway through the journey that Katsuki’s vision started to blur, not long after came pain in his limbs. The Adrenaline rush had officially worn off, along with the dopamine high victory had brought about. Seeing what looked like an island below, the black dragon slowly loses altitude, and before it can hit the water, a human body appears in its place. Exhausted as he was, Bakugou kept a tight grip on his satchel as he fought the tide to get to shore, where he immediately collapsed.

Waking up was a surprisingly comfortable experience, whatever the Royal lay upon was soft, the air around him was a comfortable temperature and the smell invading his senses was possibly the best scent in the world. Only the feather light touch of small fingers on his skin made his eyes fly open, a frightening growl comes from deep in his chest. Taking hold of a tiny wrist in his large fist, “What the fuck do you-“ the words died on his lips as he caught sight of you. Pupils expanding due to fear, inside rings of wide e/c eyes stared back at him, before looking down at the wrist he still had clutched inside his hand, “ I didn’t mean to startle you…Im sorry”. The sound of your voice was like music to his ears, a unique tone that was made for him to hear and no one else, he had to of died during his flight home because no shitty mortal could be making him feel this way…”Im y/n by the way…I uh, I came across you passed out on the shore at the beach, and once I got a better look at your injuries...I couldn’t just leave you there” you spoke to him so softly, touched him so gently. The strange sensation wouldn’t go away; This tingling warmth in his chest, the serene calm you brought Bakugou only amplified the longer he spent with you, the closer you got to him.

It made the normally rage fueled monarch relax, it made him want to be a better man and a better leader.

All for you.

All because of you.

The memory made it easier to force himself to turn away from the window and stalk down the short hallway. Pushing open the already slightly ajar door to see the green haired male scribbling down some notes, muttering to himself as he picked up a jar and inspected the contents. Taking a few steps inside Bakugou clears his throat to gain the other man’s attention, “Oh Kaachan! Im sorry I didn’t hear you come in!” Deku exclaims, emerald eyes shifting nervously “Is something…wrong?”. “No…I just need to talk to you…” it comes out rougher than he’d intended but somehow Katsuki is able to get the words out “I wanted to thank…you…for uh…for helping Y/N…and Im s…sorry about last night I…I was worked up and I snapped on you when I shouldn’t have…”. The two men stood and stared at each other for a minute before Izuku breaks the silence “You don’t have to thank me, I was just doing the right thing….And Kirishima filled me in on what happened before you guys ended up here yesterday…It makes sense that you would be on edge after all that….Im sorry I didn’t just tell you she was here right away, I was uh kinda terrified you would think things were different than they appeared to be…”.

“So…we are good then?” The Dragon king replies, narrowed eyes glaring at Deku.

“Yep we’re good” the green haired man says with a nod, smiling as he turns back towards his notes.

Bakugou turns to leave the room, only to pause in the doorway.

Keeping his back towards Midoryia to hide the grimace on his face as he says “If you want a ride back to the capital you can come with us, hurry up and pack your shit cause we’re leaving ASAP” no sooner are the words out of his mouth that his stomping feet can be heard down the hallway, huffing when he hears the nerd happily accepting his invitation. Its gotta be you and your infectious kindness thats getting to him, and that should be a lot more unsettling than it was to him in this moment.

You and Kirishima were far too busy laughing at something Bakugou hadnt heard to notice when he emerged from the cabin. A large shadow falls over the grass infront of you as your laughter dies down into snickers. Which then cease immediately as soon as you notice who stands behind you.

“Oh! Good morning your highness!” Ejiro exclaims as he enthusiastically gets to his feet and smiles at the grimacing monarch. The red head extends his hand to help you up, only to have it knocked out of the way and replaced with the king’s. Taking your much smaller hand in his, Katsuki uses a little too much strength to pull you up and ends up with you falling face first against his hard chest. “G-Good morning my…King” you mumble against his skin as you peer up at him from in between his pecs.

“Missed you in bed this morning my goddess” the king replied, wrapping his arms around your body to keep you held to him. He couldn’t help but smirk at your flustered expression, where was the boldness you demonstrated to him the night prior? “Im not a goddess…yet” you corrected with a sigh “About last night, I….I apologize for behaving in such a provocative manner, it was innapropraite of me to proposition you like that….I dunno what came over me”.

“You’ve always repressed that side of yourself, it only makes sense that being in the company of your fated Alpha would get your omega all hot and bothered” Katsuki massages your hips as he takes a deep inhale of your scent “You handled it pretty well, Although, I wouldn’t have minded if you let the lust get to you, woulda been a good time for both of us…”.

“Is it inappropriate to admit that I missed sleeping beside you?” You nervously ask, shifting your weight from one foot to the other “I haven’t slept that good since the night before you left the island..”.

“No…its fine” he replied, taking notice of the way your eyes briefly fall to his lips “I feel the same”.

Your lashes flutter as you bring your gaze back to his, tilting your chin up slightly, craning your neck upwards to move your face closer. It was like the two of you were the only ones in the world for that brief moment your lips pressed gently to his. When you begin to pull back he stops you by giving you his own chaste kiss, resting his forehead against your’s.

“Will it always feel like this?” You whisper, gently grabbing hold of his cape to ground your out of control emotions. “Most likely” Bakugou pauses to give you that stupid smirk “You’ll get used to it…eventually”.

“Alright I’m ready to go! Sorry for making you all wait!” Calls Midoryia as he locks the cabin up, hurrying out to the field where Bakugou, Kirishima, and you are standing.

Rolling his eyes the king turns towards his companion, “Shitty Scales”. “Right! Give me just a second” Kirishima runs a few feet away, giving himself enough room to shift without worrying he’d hurt you or Izuku.

“Aren’t you going to fly us back?” You give Katsuki a questioning look, eyeing the blonde man wairly lest he shift and catch you by surprise.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t fall off mid flight and die” Katsuki says with a roll of his eyes.

Just as you open your mouth to retort ,magic electrified the air surrounding you. A red flash and an accompanying roar announce the magnificent crimson dragon that now stands where Kirishima had been moments ago.

The beast lowered its head before the three of you, and Katsuki wasted no time helping you climb up its snout. Izuku follows the two of you to the middle of the dragon’s back before pulling a paint brush and jar from his rucksack. “What will you do with that?” You ask, watching the green haired man dip the brush into the jar. “Earlier Kirishima told me he wouldn’t mind if I painted some protective ruins on him to make sure we couldn’t slip or get blown off his back during our flight” Midoryia explains as he perfected the enchantment “It’s just some mashed berries that make up the pigment, something easy to clean off once he shifts back”. Once the brush and jar are placed into his bag, Izuku shuts his eyes and mumbles something unintelligible.

The runes glow bright green before fading to black, your eyes are wide with excitement and you can’t help but to be impressed by that.

“Incredible Izuku! Maybe one day you could teach me magic like that?!” You ask, tracing the symbols that line Kirishima’s scaled back.

Deku didn’t even have to look at the king to know his red eyes were giving him a death glare.

“Oh it’s not that impressive, Kaachan’s magic is much stronger and flashier than anything I could do” the smaller man stutters as he waves his hands back and forth in surrender. Before you can praise Deku’s abilities any further, hands grip your hips, you don’t fight them pulling you backwards into Katsuki’s lap. You lean back against his chest as the King wraps his cape around both of you, probably to keep you warm during the flight. “Alright shitty scales let’s go!” Bakugou hollers, the dragon immediately spreads its wings and launches itself skyward. It’s terrifying at first, but once he’s gained enough altitude Kirishima glides along smoothly. Unable to contain the excitement anymore you begin to giggle, Midoryia sighs with relief and cracks a smile as well. “This is amazing!” You shout over the loud wind surrounding you, glancing over your shoulder to smile at Katsuki. The dragon side of him is proud to see you smiling instead of crying and fearful. “I bet you are much more fun to ride my King, I can’t wait until you take me!” Your compliment is completely innocent, still he can’t help but agree as he definitely anticipated both those things himself. Both In an innocent and not so innocent manner.

Izuku sneaks glances at you two throughout the flight, seeing his childhood friend so happy is a pleasant change to the usual moody Kaachan. Its obvious that Katsuki’s affection for you is genuine and deep; In just the short time you two have known each other its obvious that you have began to change him. The crescent moon on your forehead catches the sunlight just right and a thought hits the observer. Quickly pulling a notebook from his bag the green haired man searches through his notes. Finding the page he was looking for, emerald eyes scan back and forth over the neatly written text.

In this realm,

a blessing descends,

a child of fate,

Whose power immense,

destined to determine

earth’s fate

Born beneath the moon's shadow,

a tale quite bizarre,

A beast hides within,

a spirit touched by mar.

Not at the outset,

but time's relentless flow,

Unveils a name in history's

annals to grow.

Victories numerous,

A heart encased in sin,

With a chance encounter,

love's dance shall begin.

Strings of fate weave

a love, pure and oh so divine,

The dragon king seeking

a mate with whom

Soul shall intertwine.

This love is true,

by impurity shunned,

Great Darkness out shone

by a Celestial radiance

Who’s light could

Outshine the sun

Blessings abound

Once the moon's grace prevails,

A bright happy future

Similar to a child’s fairytale

The prophecy that the oracle spoke twenty two years ago…

These words were something he’d heard since he was a small child. Everyone in the kingdom knew the words to this prophetic message, even going so far as to turn it into a song. For some reason it has always confused Midoryia.

It always seemed like something was missing from it, why does it end so abruptly? Placing the book back into his bag Midoryia chances another glance your way; Bakugou has his head resting on your shoulder, eyes closed and expression relaxed as you speak softly in his ear. Maybe Izuku was getting ahead of himself, maybe there was nothing to be worried about, maybe your love would really be enough to smooth over the dragon shifter’s horrifying and violent tendencies.

Flying over the capital is an experience in itself;The city was vast, stretching out across the land as far as your eyes could see! All those people below looked like ants as they marched through the clean cobblestone streets.

Kirishima lands in the middle of the castle courtyard, lowering his belly to the ground and curling his tail around to serve as a make shift slide. You watch Izuku, then Katsuki slide down before you followed suit, laughter flows from you as you slide across the smooth crimson scales, the latter catches you with ease once you reach the end. Midoryia bids you goodbye and before he can turn to leave you reach out to grab ahold of his sleeve, “You’ll come to visit me right? This won’t be the last time I see you, will it?” You ask nervously, hating to have to part with one of the first friends you’d made here. “You aren’t going anywhere yet nerd, I have something I need your help with so come on” snaps the king, dragging you until you fall instep with him. Approaching the castle, you notice it was tall enough for a dragon to inhabit, and more than wide enough. The dark stone making up the outside held a stark contrast to the granite and marble inside, the floors were polished and clean. The windows each had dark crimson curtains pulled to the side, allowing the natural light to illuminate the gorgeous paintings littering the walls. Kirishima jogs up the slope leading to the back entrance, appearing behind you just as the large back doors are opened. Two servants hold each door and bow their heads welcoming the four of you, you try to catch their eye but it was like they were ordered not to look at you. The further Katsuki led you into the castle the more you noticed that this lack of eye contact was a trend amongst the servants. At least when it came to you it was, they didn’t hesitate to return greetings from Izuku or Ejiro, offering kind smiles and waves along with each exchange.

Just as you were about to question the brooding blonde a loud voice resounds through the palace halls:

“Finally you got back! Was about to send out a fuckin’ search party….speaking of parties, the celebration was called off last night because of the weather so you got lucky Brat, but it will be going on tonight! Move aside so I can get a proper look at my daughter to be”. A female version of Katsuki shoved him to the side, identical crimson eyes growing wide as they observe you, taking your hands in her’s she introduces herself “Im Mitsuki, the last queen and mother of the soon to be king”. “Its lovely to meet you, your highness! I am Y/N…” you trail off, wondering if you should add anything else but Mitsuki beats you to the punch “Daughter of the Moon Goddess Selene”.

“Ah uhh yes” you reply nervously, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

The older woman eyes the crescent moon on your forehead, “Absolutely radiant, I am honored that you chose my son, he is definitely undeserving of someone that projects such outward and internal beauty”.

“Your grace please” you blush at being talked up, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Now that we’ve gotten through introductions, I’ll be turning you over to these lovely ladies to help get you ready for the evenings festivities” your soon to be mother in law gestures to two woman standing off to the side, both looking directly at you wearing warm smiles on their faces “These two are Mina and Momo, no need to worry dear you will be in good hands, now get a move on, I still need to talk to my ignorant son privatley !”.

Katsuki wanted to protest as he watched the two women each grab one of your hands and lead you down the hall.

“She is the real deal, I could sense the ethereal magic as soon as she stepped foot in the castle” Mitsuki notes, before continuing “Katsuki you need to cherish her, that isn’t just any normal earth dwelling woman…if you hurt her or inflict any sort of suffering-“. “Enough old hag! I had to deal with enough bullshit the last two days, and now I have to deal with this stupid celebration tonight-“ Katsuki is cut off by his mother talking over him. “You were the one that insisted the party should take place before the actual wedding ceremony, since you wanted to be able to whisk your mate away as soon as vows are exchanged” Mitsuki rolls her eyes “You’re lucky that I personally saw to a majority of the details to both ceremony and celebration, you should be thanking me profusely”.

“I have something I need to take care of, whatever you need me to do will have to wait until im done, c’mon nerd lets go, Kirishima you stand guard over Y/N, don’t let her go anywhere unattended” the king demands as he heads back towards the door he’d originally entered from, not waiting for the red head to reply. Izuku bowed to Mitsuki before hurrying after the retreating monarch.

As soon as Momo and Mina had you behind closed doors they bombarded you with questions:

“How did you and the king meet?”

“Was it love at first sight?”

“How did he propose?”

“How big was his-“ you quickly put an end to that line of questioning.

“I found him injured as I was walking down the beach of an island in his territory, it took some time for us to warm up to each other….Uh he didn’t exactly give me a choice, it was just a mutual agreement, and as for THAT…I wouldn’t know since we haven’t…y’know” you answered their questions lamely, it was embarrassing. If they thought anything negative the women didn’t share it, they just made idle chit chat as they combed out your hair. Taking a deep breath you shut your eyes, a bead of sweat slid from your temple to down your cheek, falling between the valley of your breasts. Had it always been so stifling hot in here? Pleasant scents of sweet almond, and vanilla reached your nose before suddenly being over powered by a lavender fragrance. Glancing around the room you don’t seem to find anything that would have put off the scents, the room was bright with afternoon sunlight illuminating the white canopy of the large four poster bed in its center. A small oak writing desk sat in one corner, and a clothing rack sat in the corner opposite of it, between the two directly across from the door used to gain entry to the room was another slightly ajar door, most likely a bathroom. Bringing a hand up you begin to fan your face, now beads of sweat lined the entirety of your forehead, you dab them away with your other hand before they slip into your eyes. Thats when you felt the sleeves of your dress being pulled down as the back of it had been unfastened, feeling your chest slightly exposed caused you to squeak in concern.

“Sorry my lady, we’re done brushing your hair out and now its time for your bath” Momo explains apologetically.

“Oh okay…I can undress myself” you begin to head towards the open door only to realize that the two of them were following you, turning back around Mina speaks up “Its our job to get you ready for tonights celebration and your wedding tomorrow, so its our job to scrub you down, remove any unsightly hairs, wash, condition, style your hair, and then moisturize you from head to toe, I know its not ideal for two strangers to see your naughty bits but we’ll all be the best of friends afterwards!”. “Mina!” Exclaims Momo as she clutched her chest “Im so sorry my lady, please forgive her indiscretions, she means well!”.

The two of them begin to bicker on what is and isn’t appropriate to say to their future queen, your eyes bounce from one to the other as they speak. The pinkette is outgoing and high energy, while the ponytail is more somber and sophisticated. Mina begins making a game out of saying cruder and cruder things until her partner looks like she might just feint from the naughty language. Your laughter echoes around the bathroom as you strip out of your dress and undergarments, soon dying down into giggles as you enter the large bath, submerging your entire body.

“A thousand apologies my lady-“

“None needed, and call me y/n…I don’t consider myself above either of you…I want to make more friends” you admit this albeit nervously. A huge grin lights up Mina’s face, and MoMo ops for a more polite smile.

“You still haven’t mentioned where we are going Kaachan” Izuku nervously pointed out as he followed Bakugou. One of the kingdoms other shifters had given them a ride to the base of a nearby mountain. Now the two of them had been walking for over an hour, ocassionally having to climb up steep rocky ledges. “I told you already, you’ll find out once we get there! We’re over halfway there, woulda been there already if it weren’t for your sorry ass slowing me down” Katsuki sneers back at his companion. He was already

irritated that Deku of all people accompanied him, and now the worm would know of his greatest kept secret. It couldn’t be helped, the nerd was the only one he trusted enough to assist him with this task.

After climbing one final ledge Bakugou comes to a stop Rubbing vigorously at his temples in attempt to stop the building tension headache. The pain stemming from his draconian sides repeat attempts at taking over his rational mind. Waiting for Midoryia to catch up, the king stood just outside of a cave that led inside of the mountain itself.

“We’re going inside?” Deku panted as he stared at Katsuki incredulously. “Yep C’mon” the king replied, immediately heading inside. Once inside the cave their path was blocked by what appeared to be a wall of volcanic rock. Placing both of his crackling palms atop it, the rock wall seemingly melted away, green eyes grew wide signifying the other man’s amazement.

“This is my horde, tell anyone the location, show up here without permission, or steal something and you’re dead, got it?” The King says with fire in his eyes, drawing himself up to his imposing height to make it easier to look down on Deku.

“I-of course not, I mean yes understood!” The frightened male squeaks, nodding his head nervously.

Turning his back on the cowering man, Katsuki walks further into the cavern. Treasures of all sorts line the pathway, Izuku can’t help but continue to marvel at all of it. A single path branched off the crowded walk way that led further into the cavern. Following it took the two men into what appeared to be a room carved into the rock wal

It wasn’t huge, it was small enough to be considered comfortable. Izuku noticed the various objects and decorations in this area were different than the haphazard treasure piles outside it. These things been placed with care, silk sheets covered the pile of furs and pillows surrounded what was obviously a bed in the center of the room. There was no spot that indicated the bedding had been slept on, and before the green haired man could contemplate this any further, the hulking blonde motioned for him to approach the spot.

“Paint these ruins right here” the king orders, lifting the bedding up and exposing the floor before he hands his subordinate a page that had been torn out of an obviously old book. Taking the ripped page carefully, Deku examines it curiously. Only to realize this was something in an ancient draconian language, raising a brow he begins to ask “What do these-“ only to be cut off by an angry “None of your damn business, just hurry up and come paint them”.

While Izuku set about his task, Katsuki continually left the room and returned with different things.

Arranging the treasures neatly, adding more decor and standing back to look at it satisfactorily.

Only to frown and take it away, going back out into the cave and exchanging the rejected items with something else. Once the runes were transcribed perfectly across the stone floor they glowed red hot, and burst into what had to be flames. This makes poor Deku Yelp loudly, jumping back to avoid getting burned. Quickly he grabs his bag and attempts to smother the flame, “Oi what the fuck are you doing?! Move idiot!” Katsuki exclaims as he runs over. Disregarding the frightened babbling coming from the startled man on the floor. The king takes a breath before closing his eyes in concentration lifting his hand that rapidly began forming into one of a dragon. Using the sharp talons to slice his other palm, blood began pouring out of the wound and dropping onto the burning shapes.

That’s when Izuku realizes that the flames weren’t burning anything despite the intense heat they were emitting. When the drops of blood hit the various letters it would sizzle loudly before extinguishing the flame all together. By the time each letter had been coated and the fire had been put out completely, only a faint outline of ruins appeared etched into the cave floor. The king carefully placed the bedding back in place to cover them up and smirked, very pleased with something apparently.

“Kaachan?”

“Listen up nerd, you’re going to help me haul the rest of the necessities I need up here before the wedding, since you are the only person other than shitty hair that knows where my horde is, now c’mon we have shit to do” with that the king is quick to leave the room, and a very confused Deku inside of it. Something felt off to Midoryia about that enchantment, making sure he had all of his personal items put away before getting to his feet. Emerald eyes notice the old scrap of parchment had drifted a little off to the side during his earlier scare, considering Katsuki hadn’t picked it up or asked for it back, its quickly stashed away in a pocket of his satchel.

“WHAT THE HELL IS TAKING SO DAMN LONG?!”

“S-Sorry! Coming Kaachan!”

Back at the castle Mina and Momo had finished styling your hair and now were dressing you in your formal attire for the celebration taking place in the capital that evening. The white dress had translucent sleeves that billowed outward when you walked, the slits on either side, and cut outs on the sides of your sternum made you nervous.

“You look wonderful, everyone is going to think so” compliments the pinkette.

“I absolutley agree with Mina, you look every bit a future queen, the people will definitely be reassured they’re in good hands with you and the king” Momo adds with a polite smile. Thanking the both of them you glance out the window and notice that the moon has already taken its place high in the sky, shining bright as ever.

Without thinking you strode toward the doors of the small balcony in your room, opening them and stepping out into the fresh night air, closing your eyes and letting the gentle breeze caress your skin.

The two women watched you in fascination, it was as if your were taking in the light from the moon as one would from the sun on a warm day.

“Such a warm, gentle light” your whisper is lost on the faint wind, your heart swells in your chest at the fond memories made back then in your true home, the beautiful flowing silver hair and dazzling smile of a women dances behind your eye lids “Mother I miss you…I wonder what you think of all this…I hope you will come to watch me get married….or prevent it if its something that shouldnt happen…”. A ethereal glow surrounds you, making Mina and Momo gasp excitedly, the reassurance you had began to feel seemed to be a good enough answer from the goddess. As you turned to head back inside you paused in the threshold, glancing over your shoulder up at the crystal like light in the sky, the soft breeze blows hard enough to ruffle your dress. The voice that was carried on the winds from the heavens above was for your ears alone.

I will be there

The party was well underway by the time Kirishima escorted you out onto the balcony where two identical blondes sat overseeing the festivities. Katsuki is on his feet before you step through the door, you reach out to him and his expression softens as he takes your hand in his. “You look beautiful y/n” Mitsuki says as she too has gotten to her feet “The people are ready to meet their future queen”. Your stomach fills with butterflies as you take your place beside the dragon king. The older woman gestures towards a blonde precariously dressed man with a thin mustache, he gives a nod before loudly addressing the guests;

“Attention please! The royal family has announcement to make”. His voice has to be magically amplified some how, it’s so loud it makes you want to cover your ears.

“Thank you all for coming to join us in celebrating the unveiling of your soon to be queen” Mitsuki smiles warmly at the crowd below, gesturing for Katsuki to take over.

As soon as the king steps forward the people cheer “Long Live the Dragon King!” “Congratulations your majesty!” “King Bakugou!”.

The smirk he flashes his subjects has many in the crowd swooning, as soon as he begins to speak they all quiet down “I know many of you have long awaited the introduction of a new queen to rule beside me…It took longer than I would like to admit to find her, twas an accident that she came across me grievously injured from my battle with one of the ancient ones” a dramatic pause has the room so silent you could hear a pin drop, Katsuki smiles over his shoulder at you before continuing “It’s by the grace of Selene herself that her one and only daughter would not only find me, but put in the effort to nurse me back to health, I knew as soon as I opened my eyes and beheld the beauty above me that she was the one…my true mate and now your future queen my princess

y/n”. You allow yourself to be pulled forward and now stood at your fiancé’s side, the crowd below erupts into applause, shouting and chanting.

“Goddess Born!”

“Daughter of Selene”

“Keeper of moonlight”

“Long live the King and Queen!”

You smiled and waved to the people, happy when Katsuki holds you close to him. You glance up to admire your handsome fiancé, without thinking you lean upwards and he meets you halfway in a passionate kiss that has the citizens cheering even louder.

Pulling away the two of you touch foreheads briefly before waving to the crowd once more and moving away from the edge of the balcony.

“Should I have said something?” You wonder aloud, glancing over your shoulder wearing a confused expression. “You did fine darling, if you had addressed them they would have went berserk with excitement, we don’t want the castle getting torn up before the wedding” Mitsuki reassures you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Handfuls of nobles and commoners alike swarm to shake your hands and introduce themselves when you briefly come down to mingle among them. You spot Izuku’s green curls across the room and are quick to excuse yourself, happy to see a familiar face. He’s talking to a woman whose cheeks are bright pink as she giggles at something, only to immediately pause after catching sight of you.

“Midoryia!” You called out, smiling once you reached him.

“Princess! Hello!” He stands up straight, greeting you warmly “This is my good friend Ochako Uraraka”.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you your highness” the pink cheeked girl says shyly.

“You as well, no need to be so formal! Please call me y/n” you reply happily “I’m relieved to see someone familiar, I’ve met so many new people tonight already!”.

“The whole kingdom is buzzing with excitement, I bet it’s overwhelming!” Ochako exclaims, glancing around the room “Most of us didn’t think Bakugou would ever end up finding his fated partner”.

You chuckled at that, it certainly made sense why they would feel that way. Before you could continue your conversation you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder “Come now y/n, let’s get you back to Katsuki, Ejiro just informed me that he’s getting pissy” Mitsuki says with a roll of her eyes, Kirishima nervously scratches the back of his neck behind her. It takes the couple by surprise when you hug each of them “Hopefully we can have a longer conversation next time, bye Midoryia, nice meeting you Ochako!” You say quickly, flashing them a dazzling smile before taking hold of Mitsuki’s hand, Kirishima following closely behind the two of you as you head back towards the raised platform.

Katsuki was slouched in his chair, two of his knights you hadn’t met yet, along with Mina, all appeared to be teasing him. If the scowl on his face was anything to go by that is. “I brought her back just as I promised you damn cry baby” Mitsuki snapped as she released her hold on you. Gracefully moving past the older woman you were about to take a seat beside the brooding king, only to let out a startled yip as his large hands took hold of your hips and yanked you into his lap. “Yeah what happened to only five minutes? It’s been at least an hour, she’s not your show pony old hag” Bakugou sneers at his mother, making you gasp,

“My king how could you speak to your mother in such an awful manner?!”. This only makes the woman smirk at her son as she looks down her nose at him, “Listen to your wife Katsuki, she’s got a much better head on her shoulders”.

“Yeah yeah” the disgruntled blonde huffs, waving his mother off.

“We haven’t had the chance of meeting yet my lady” the yellow haired male says, immediately moving closer to take your hand.

“Denki Kaminari at your service” he presses a kiss to the back of your hand before bowing low. “Let go of her hand before I take off your head DunceFace” Katsuki snarls.

Kaminari is immediately bumped out of the way for his black haired counterpart to stand before you, “Hanta Serro, pleasure to make your acquaintance my lady”.

Serro bows to you, flashing a toothy grin as he does so.

“Nice to meet you gentlemen” you say with a polite smile.

“Now piss off you all” Bakugou grumbled “Want a minute to speak to my women without any comments from the peanut gallery”.

Both knights give him a mock salute, and wave at you as them and Kirishima leave you two.

Immediately you feel warm hands squeeze at your sides and you lean your forehead against their owner’s. “You okay? I thought you would get overwhelmed meeting so many people” Katsuki asks, admiring your beauty as you close your eyes. “It wasnt that bad, I’m fine now though” you reply, a pleased hum followed it as Katsuki’s hands began to brush across the skin of your hips that was exposed from the slits in your dress. His hands are warm as they trail down your thighs, leaving tingles in their wake as they travel back upwards. He decided to continue this action, caressing your exposed skin, allowing the skin on his palms to slightly increase in temperature. A prideful smugness begins building inside of him after noticing with each pass over your hips you’re leaning further into him.

Soon your head comes to rest between his neck and shoulder, the relaxed sigh you emit has your breath ghosting across the sensitive skin. Without thinking he grabs a bit too harshly at your hips, causing an adorable squeak to come from you. So he does it again, only this time it gets a much different result.

The cute little “humphh” was there, but what followed it was….teeth.

Your teeth grazed the skin of his neck before nipping it. The pain was nothing to the dragon king, but combined with the warmth of your tongue poking at it, that was everything.

Katsuki abruptly got to his feet, his grip shifted beneath your ass in order for him to swiftly carry you out of the crowded ballroom. The two of you are out the door you’d entered to reach the balcony before you could properly access the situation. Carrying you a little ways down the castle hallway, the king stops at a small alcove. Deeming the small space good enough to press your body against the polished stone wall. “My king?” You ask nervously, his body pressing against your’s even though he was as close to you as possible already.

“Won’t everyone notice we left?” You only get a rumbling growl In response, your body tensing as the king squeezes your hips again, his nose coming down to sniff at your neck.

Still haven’t claimed her yet? Coward, I’ll have to change that.

“M-my king?”

Feel that?

Your core grows wet with slick as you begin to lose yourself in these

new pleasurable sensations caused by your lover’s continued motions. They fueled the aching need between your spread thighs, little whimpers escaping as you begin to rut against his abs.

I think she likes me more than you…think I’ll claim her, since you have been dragging your feet…Let me show you how it’s done.

Crimson eyes begin growing black they eat up the sight of you breathing heavily and growing desperate.

One of his fingers slip into your wet hole, earning a gasp from you. His eyes drinking in your appearance, enjoying the moment.

“O-ohhh Katsuki!” Your mouth hangs open, your nails bite into the skin of his biceps “I…please Katsuki I need more…want you my king”.

Bakugou finally regained control over his body, not that you know he had ever lost it. The sight of you growing so needy from his touch was overwhelmingly gorgeous.

His lips crash into your own as he begins sisscoring you open.

“Mmm princess…tell me what you want…just tell me and I’ll give it to you y/n…you look so beautiful like this” Katsuki moans as one of your hands tangles in his hair, forcing his head forward to continue the kiss.

“I want…hahhh…want you” you whine into his mouth before curling your tongue with his “I want you to ravage me King Katsuki…show me how a dragon makes love” Surely he couldn’t fuck you right here in this hallway? After all the work he’d put in back at the mountain to make your first (and only) mating perfect….

“Katsukiii”

He couldn’t.

“I want you to.. I want you to fuck me”

He can, and he will.

“Whatever princess wants, princess gets” the king replied, one hand wrapping around your throat and gently beginning to apply pressure.

“Oh? You like this, don’t try to bullshit me when you keep squeezing my fingers” he applied a little more pressure as his other hand moved to free his aching cock. “M’gonna fuck ya right here, right now…don’t care who sees do you? Begging for me like a desperate little whore”.

Your whines are growing higher in pitch as you begin to fuck yourself on his fingers. “Gods princess you look so good like this, I got what you need right here baby” he mumbles, guiding the head of his dick towards your slit. Gathering some of the wetness leaking from you, both of you were holding your breath and watching the spot where you would be conjoined. Just as you felt the tip of him against your fluttering entrance, did you both notice the sound of footsteps approaching. Katsuki releases his hold on you, making sure you could stand alright before stuffing his dick back in his pants. You leaned down to grab your ruined panties off the floor, sticking them deep into his pants pocket. Smoothing down your dress, you moved forward and grabbed his hand pulling him along. You both appeared calm when you met Kirishima as he rounded the corner.

“There you guys are! Sorry to bother but Jeanist and Aizawa wish to meet with you before the night’s end My king” the red haired man says, his large smile is a bit sheepish as he looks anywhere but at you.

“Take her back to her room, I’ll tell pinky to join you” Katsuki orders his knight, who nodded before moving a slight distance down the hallway.

“I know you must be worn out princess, it’s been a long day…” the king began, dropping your hand to touch your cheek “Get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow”. As he leans down to kiss you he is abruptly thwarted by your hands pushing against his chest, “Tomorrow?!” You practically squawk at him “What am I to sleep alone?!”.

Blaming your heightened emotions on your guy’s previous actions, tears well up in your eyes,

“What was all that for if you just planned to abandon me afterwards?”. Later that night as you lay awake staring off into space, your reaction would embarrass you.

That would be then, this here was now.

“We shared the same space throughout our time together on the island, slept side by side! Now that you’ve uprooted me and brought me here to this foreign land, where I have no family or allies, you leave me alone and refuse to share a bed?! This is where you draw the line?” You kept your volume at a harsh whisper to avoid attracting any unwanted eavesdroppers.

You pulled away as Katsuki reached out towards you, “Go and handle your business, I refuse to stoop so low as to disrupt the order of your kingdom, Goodnight King Bakugou”. “Y/n wait! You can’t just say all that and walk away, we aren’t done with this conversation! Get back-“ the king went silent as he heard a door open further up the hallway, his arm dropping back to his side. Turning to leave, the last thing he sees is Kirishima following after you.

Should have just let me handle it.

“Shut the fuck up!” Katsuki snarls, stopping just outside the door he’d carried you out of previously “Don’t think you ever are going to pull that same bullshit again, that’s my woman!”.

You forget, I am you….

Before he can respond the Door opens and his mother stares back at him “Where’s y/n?”.

“I sent her to bed, she was tired”

The clipped tone of her son’s voice was nothing the older woman wasn’t used to. Something wasnt right, as she moved to let her son pass by her eyes scrutinized him.

“Oi what’d you two old bastards want? My intended is upset with me now thanks to you assholes” the King snarls, approaching the two men that stood waiting.

“Hello to you too your majesty” Jeanist replies, pushing his dark blonde bangs further to the side.

Aizawa only rolls his eyes, “Let’s move somewhere quieter, too much going on down there”.

“Y/n seems nice, how’d you two meet? I figured Bakugou would have kept her hidden until tonight” Ochako asks, excitedly taking a large bite of cake. “Hmm? Oh well long story short I gave her shelter when she had been caught out in a storm” Midoryia replied, absentmindedly glancing around the ball room. “What was she doing out in a storm?” The witch asks around her fork, savoring the first bite. “Oh uh well” Izuku chuckled nervously “It was just due to a misunderstanding, no big deal or anything”. “Bakugou upset her and she took off, got lost, only to be found and saved by you…right?” Ochacko asked, fixing him with a narrowed eye stare. “Right” the green haired man sighs.

“I just dont get it Mina….how could he just dismiss me like that after…well you know! I just dont understand what I did wrong” you lament to the pinkette brushing your hair out. “You didnt do anything, im sure that he was seconds away from whisking you off to his chambers, if the two of you hadnt been interrupted” replies Mina, briefly glaring at the bedroom door Kirishima was currently posted outside of. “Typically our people dont wait for marriage to mate, mating often times proceeds a formal marriage, but you are someone special, and I believe thats why the king is waiting until after the wedding to break your back” she explains, wrapping the silk scarf around your tresses.

“W-What?! Break my back??” You stammer fearfully.

“Its a figure of speech, basically he’s going to do it so good you wont be able to leave the bed afterwards, rumor has it the king is rough, and likes to get a bit freaky too, so good luck with that” Mina teases as she knots the scarf, tapping your shoulder with the brush as she chuckles.

“Mina! I might be offended if I knew what any of that even meant” you whine, shaking your head back and forth.

A/N: I hope the length of this made up for the last one! I tried to find out if there was a form of A/B/O for dragons so I could use those terms, but I guess they go by the same things? I dunno 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thanks for all the love and support you guys show me, it makes me happier than you know ❤️‍🔥

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #mha #fantasy au #bnha #dragon bakugou #dragon king bakugou #royal au

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starry-eyed-adam · 8 months ago

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panic attack writing prompts :)

“My chest hurts. It hurts.”

“I can’t!”

“It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Don’t touch me—don’t touch me!”

“Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

tw: gunshots, trauma, panic attack

takes place a year or so after chapter 21 of Head Over Boots, they’re on their camping trip :)

The gunshot seemed to scream through the air, some hunter’s nearby attempt at murder of an animal, the sound rattling against Yuichi’s skull as it penetrated his ears. Faintly, the logs in his arms tumbled and hit the soft forest floor, and Yuichi fell similarly, shaking hands over his ears as he curled up tightly, defensively.

Another shot, and Yuichi yelped as his chest constricted, heart thudding erratically as he felt an icy grip around him.

Boots on the dirt, towards him, barrel of a shotgun between his eyes.

“You’ve ruined everything.”

“Honeybunny?” Leo glanced over his shoulder at the absence of footsteps behind him. The slider dropped his own firewood and hurried back, brow furrowed at the sight of his husband crouched low, shaking on the ground. “Yuichi, hey, what happened?”

Yuichi didn’t answer, barely heard a word. The world bled in and out of focus, his ears still rang, from the day his stallion threw him from the saddle and he lay there to die.

To die.

Cold metal against his jaw. A threat, and not an empty one.

Pump.

Click.

BANG!

Leo’s hand reached to gently rub his lover’s back, an attempt to ground him, bring him back.

“Don’t touch me!” Yuichi shrieked, and the cowboy instantly drew back. “Don’t touch me!”

“Darlin’, hey, you’re safe,” whispered his worried husband, kneeling before him. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“M-My chest,” Yuichi gasped, removing one hand from his ears to clutch at the front of his shirt. Tears spilled down his cheeks, left clean streaks against the dust and dirt. “It hurts, it—it hurts.”

He was going to die. He was going to die he was going to die he was going to—

“Honeybunny,” spoke Leo, slow and soothing, “I need you to take a deep breath, okay? It hurts ‘cause you ain’t breathin’ enough.”

Gasping, chest rising and falling so rapidly and shallowly, Yuichi tried to remember how to breathe. Sucking in air too fast, he choked and coughed. “I—I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Yuichi, honey, nobody’s gonna hurt you. I’m right here, okay? Deep breaths, darlin’. Watch me.” Hesitantly, reluctantly, Yuichi cracked his wild, glistening eyes open, found Leo’s calm blue ones. “Good, good,” whispered the slider with a smile. “Take a deep breath in, through your nose. Slow.” Watching his husband breathe in, so slow and easy, Yuichi closed his mouth to copy him.

“There ya go! Good. Now out through your mouth.” Leo blew out a breath, and, shakily, Yuichi did the same. “Good job, honeybunny. Take another breath in.”

The guided breathing went on for what felt like ages as Yuichi’s chest loosened, and the frigid feeling slipped away, melted into the forest floor with his terror. “There you go,” whispered Leo with a small, proud smile. “Is it okay if I hold your hand, honeybunny?”

Yuichi wiped at his eyes with a sniff and nodded after a moment. The familiar feeling of the rough, calloused palm in his own, the sensation of Leo’s thumb rubbing little circles against the back of his hand, was an instant comfort, and Yuichi closed his eyes to breathe deeply again. “Good job,” praised his husband again, smiling warmly at him. “You wanna tell me what happened, there?”

Swallowing, rubbing at his eye again, Yuichi made a face. “It was, um. It was stupid,” he mumbled. “I heard a gunshot. And I got scared.”

“Mm.” Leo continued to rub his hand, still breathing so slow and calm. “That ain’t stupid. Gunshots are scary. Especially after what Don’s put ya through.” He shifted to sit beside Yuichi, guiding his husband to lean into his side, rest his head on his shoulder. Yuichi closed his eyes with the soothing comfort of Leo’s body, the smell of pine and hay and the cologne that always stayed on his clothes.

“Think you can make it back to camp, honey?” whispered Leo, rubbing his back. Yuichi sniffed again and nodded, moving to stand but wincing at the burning pain that radiated through his knees. Dammit.

“It’s okay, I got ya.” Leo grinned as he wrapped his arm around Yuichi’s waist, lifting him to stand like he weighed nothing. “Wanna grab your firewood? We’ll head back to camp an’ take a nap, okay? Panic attacks are exhaustin’.” He kissed Yuichi’s cheek with a small smile, and the rabbit yokai returned it, lingering for a moment. Yuichi watched with a grin of his own as Leo started back on the trail, going to gather the wood he’d dropped.

Damn, he was lucky to have someone who loved him so much.

prompts below! from @unboundprompts

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt leo #rise leo #rottmnt head over boots #head over boots #rottmnt yuichi usagi #rottmnt leosagi #leosagi #leoichi #panic attack #rottmnt angst #angst with a happy ending #panic attacks #writing prompt #writing prompts

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narryffdreaming · 7 months ago

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A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — THREE

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART THREE: 6,9k words Author’s note: ngl I thought this was "too short", and then I saw it's around 7k and realized that maybe this isn't short, but the other parts are just "too long", lol. Clearly I can't control myself. But anyway, this is part three and Aurora and Harry (finally) arrive in Italy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :)

PART ONE || PART TWO

As it turns out, both Aurora and Harry completely forgot about the one hour time change, so whilst they thought they'd arrive around eleven, by the time they landed in Naples it was actually a few minutes after 12.

They realized, then, that since they would go together to Amalfi, sharing a taxi would be cheaper than taking the train — like they had both initially planned to do. Which is how Aurora ends up leaning against a white wall at arrivals, watching their bags while Harry wanders around and does some research for them.

Outside, the day is bright and sunny, something she's been admiring non-stop through the huge glass wall in front of her. Rays of light keep the exposed skin in her arms and chest warm, so there's no need for her to wear Harry's jacket anymore — although a part of her wishes she still had a reason to, just to keep smelling his cologne.

"Hey!" Harry calls, and Aurora turns her head to the side.

He approaches her confidently, pulling his hair back and smiling while strutting through the airport as if he owns the place. It's kind of impossible not to follow every one of his movements, and she's pretty sure anyone who lays their eyes on him would think exactly the same.

"It's done," he says, then raises both hands and gives her a double thumbs up. "Got us a taxi."

Summer looks good on him. It makes his skin glow, it highlights his tattoos, and it makes his happiness seem… Well… Even happier.

"Oh," she says, blinking and stepping away from the wall. "Great."

She clears her throat and glances to her phone, double-checking for the fiftieth time that her texts to Zack remain unanswered.

It's been over four hours since she texted him, and although she isn't surprised by his lack of interaction, she can't deny that it sucks to know he intentionally avoids replying to her texts — and that she probably won't hear from him until Sunday night, when he drops Noah off.

"No words from him yet?" Harry asks, now standing only a couple of steps across from her.

Aurora shakes her head and locks the screen, then looks up and faces him again.

"No… But hey," she says, offering him a sarcastic smile and fake enthusiasm as she adds, "if I'm lucky enough, maybe he'll pick up the phone tonight. Isn't that great?"

Harry pauses for a moment.

And then he snorts.

He flicks his gaze down and breathes in, filling his chest with air while taking one hand up to his face and rubbing his brow.

"Jesus Christ," he murmurs and chuckles shakily, almost as if he can't believe what he just heard.

Aurora feels herself softening in front of him, and her fingers itch to touch him somehow.

"I mean, it's okay," she says, tightening her phone inside her fingers and closing her other hand into a fist. "I knew this would happen when I decided to spend the weekend away."

Harry drops his hand to his side and shakes his head, then looks at her again.

Bright, sunny, warm summer seemed to turn into dark, cold, empty winter around him. He's clearly tense, and the look in his eyes is heavier now.

"For his sake," he says, voice sounding just as deep as she feels him in her bones. "I really hope he doesn't cross my way anytime soon."

It's unbelievable how quickly Aurora's mouth fills with water. As if she's salivating because of him.

The way he soaks up her worries and eases her sadness is certainly endearing, but the way Harry physically reacts to this specific situation gets her nerves stirring. He seems to be ready to stand up for her. Ready to fight the battle for her. Ready to be her armor and shield her from all and any attacks that Zack throws at her.

And as much as Aurora doesn't want things to get to that point, and as much as she isn't looking for that kind of attention from a man, the honest truth is that her insides respond too quickly to his behavior. Like she's craving for that aggressiveness. Or maybe like she's craving for someone to finally treat her the way she wishes to be treated. Someone who will throw a punch for her, and not at her.

Even just metaphorically speaking.

Aurora blinks, breaking away from the intensity of his stare as she hunches down and grabs her bag from the floor. She takes the opportunity to swallow all those new feelings down, hiding and locking them away, then stands upright again.

"I appreciate that," she says, curling her lips into a smile. "But we're in Italy right now, so I think I'm ready to leave Zack behind. At least for two days."

Harry focuses on her for a moment, flickering his eyes all over her face. Studying her. Almost like he's making sure she is telling him the truth.

She tilts her chin down and lifts her left eyebrow, and Harry meets her stare once again.

"You're right," he says, and closes his eyes. "Gimme a minute."

Taking all the time of the world, Harry breathes in deeply through his nose. When his chest is full, he freezes for a moment, and then lets all the air slip out through his mouth. Loudly and heavily.

It's a little bit dramatic. A little bit over the top. A little bit exaggerated. But Aurora can tell that he's intentionally forcing his movements. That he's getting on board with her and leaving things behind. And that he's making a big deal out of it because it's supposed to be a symbolic moment between them. Like drawing an imaginary line and setting a before and after for that trip.

Especially when he rolls his shoulders, tilts his head side to side vehemently, and then drops all the weight off his body.

"Ok," he says, opening his eyes while clasping his hands together and smiling at her. "I'm good!"

He leans down to grab his bag, too, and a foolish grin grows on Aurora's face.

"As I was saying," he adds, placing the strap on his shoulder as he looks at her again, "I got us a taxi. It's supposed to be just an hour and a half drive, but they said it can take us at least two hours to get there."

Meaning they will get there around what… 2:30? 3?

Aurora pouts.

"That sucks. Lucy had this whole thing planned in the morning."

"I know. But we'll make the best of it, anyway."

"Yeah…"

She puts her phone inside the front pocket of her bag, then looks around the airport.

They're still inside the crowded terminal, and it's safe to say that she has no idea where she's supposed to go next. She's been following Harry's steps since they landed — or maybe even since they took off — and she isn't actually interested in taking the lead right now.

"So… Where should we go, then? Can we get this taxi now or…"

"Mhm… Yes… We sure can…" Harry nods. "But first… There's something I have to tell you."

Aurora's face falls, and she drops her shoulders.

"Oh God… What?"

"It's nothing bad… At least I don't think so, but…"

Harry scratches his jaw and shrugs, then smiles sheepishly at her.

(Which, to be honest, does nothing to reassure her.)

She rearranges the bag on her shoulder with one hand, and encourages him to speak with the other, rolling her fingers in the air.

"But…?"

"Well… I might've lied a bit to the guy from the taxi company."

"Okay…" She narrows her eyes. "Why? What did you say to him?"

"That we just… Y'know… Got married?"

Aurora drops her jaw.

"Married?!"

Harry chuckles.

"Mhmm..."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah…"

His face is bright with amusement, and even though Aurora can't understand what's so funny behind that joke, she can't help but mimic his emotion.

"Harry!" She laughs. "Why would you even say that?!"

"Because he gave me this whole speech, ok? About how he couldn't get us a car 'till five, and how we should've booked one at least one day before and… Well. Y'know…"

He rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed at the lecture he got because of their poor planning skills, but the joy is still there. All over him. Radiating from his entire presence. Blooming into her.

"I see." Aurora nods, pursing her lips as she mulls over his words. "And us being married changes that because…"

He pulls his eyebrows together, as if the answer is the most obvious thing and he can't believe she's even asking that. "Because we eloped, duh. So of course we didn't have any time to plan or book anything."

"Oh my God."

Aurora laughs.

"So I guess this is our honeymoon now."

"You're insane."

"Hey, it worked, ok?" He raises the palms of his hands to her, then smirks, all proud of himself. "We didn't have a taxi, now we have one. So… You're welcome."

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms on her chest, but the smile never falters from her face.

"Fine. Whatever. Anything else I should be aware of about this lie?"

Harry takes a moment to think about it, hiding his hands inside his pockets and then shrugging.

"Nah… Don't think so."

"Good."

"Only that you're madly in love with me and couldn't wait to be my wife."

"Right."

"But that's pretty obvious."

"No, yeah. Of course."

"You also can't wait to get our honeymoon started, by the way."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep. So you're kind of desperate to get to our hotel."

Aurora snorts. "Okay then."

"Apparently," he says, stepping closer and nudging her side with his elbow, "you just can't get your hands off me."

She cackles, then, and shoves him off with one hand. "You wish!"

The small joke rolls easily and happily from her mouth. Mostly because she's determined to not ruin things all over again, but also because he brings that side out of her.

And Harry laughs, too.

"Hey," he says, shrugging and tilting his chin up, "a man can only hope."

"You're ridiculous."

"I mean, it gets you laughing so… Yeah. I'll take it."

She shakes her head, finding herself out of words. Even if she knows they're both just teasing around and that she doesn't need to worry about him misinterpreting her, there's only so much she can joke at once.

Unlike Harry, of course, who apparently can roll lie after lie out of his mouth.

"Ok, c'mon," he says, tilting his head and leading their way from arrivals to outside the airport. "They said there'll be a car waiting for us."

Aurora follows him in silence, and then she clears her throat.

"So, you really told them we got married?"

He smiles, and nods. "Yes."

"And they really think we're going to a hotel?"

"Mhmm." He looks at her over his shoulder and shrugs. "I didn't want to get into the whole yacht thing… Seemed too much trouble to explain."

"Right." She smirks, and raises her eyebrows. "But creating a lie about our marriage was easy-peasy, right?"

Harry purses his lips, clearly trying to hold himself back.

"I mean… Yeah. Had the whole story on the tip of my tongue."

They both look at each other for a moment, and then they both laugh.

See? That's the good thing about Harry: he makes Aurora laugh.

And he makes her laugh a lot.

Which isn't exactly news, because he always made her laugh, but still feels nice to remember.

Back in the day, the way Harry and Niall lived their lives used to be one of the reasons why she liked to hang out with them so much — they didn't have too many worries in the world, and they only cared about having fun. So whilst most people around her were planning for their futures and preoccupied about having everything figured out, they made her laugh about the most silly and random things, offering her a break from the pressures and expectations of adult life.

Of course, their lifestyle wasn't one that she could keep up with all the time, and at certain moments their behavior used to resemble childishness, but they definitely were good and fun people to keep around.

So much so that here's where they are right now.

"C'mere, wifey," Harry says, stepping out to the sunny day and pulling her to his side by her shoulders. "Time to give our driver a show."

She grimaces, then places her arm around his waist.

"Okay," she says, narrowing her eyes and adjusting her sight to the warm and natural brightness, "rule number one, you're not calling me wifey."

Harry squeezes her shoulder and laughs, throwing his head back and slowing their pace down.

"Right. Ok." He nods. "What should I call you, then?"

"What about… Nothing?"

"Oh c'mon! You're my wife now. We need to play the part." He guides her smoothly down the sidewalk, dodging strangers and skipping through a long line of white cars. "Does honey sound better? Or what about apple of my eye, huh? Cupcake? Pumpkin?"

She chuckles. "Harry—"

"Buttercup?"

"Stop."

"Kitten?"

"Ew, no—"

"Other half? Or what about…" He leans closer to her ear, then covers his voice with sweetness and cheesiness as he annoyingly murmurs, "My lovey-dovey?"

At that, Aurora cackles.

"Oh God," she laughs, squirming and shoving him off. "Stop. No nicknames for you."

"Ahhh, why?" He pulls her closer again, exuding pure joy and happiness as he speaks. "Nicknames are fun. I can be your honey bunny if you want me to."

"Absolutely not."

"Honey boo?"

"Nope."

"Lover boy, then."

"C'mon… You can't seriously—"

"Man of your dreams?"

Aurora snorts, but before she can say anything, Harry speaks again.

"Prince charming? Jellybean?"

"Harry, c'mon—"

"Hot stuff?"

"Stop!"

"Babylicious?"

And then she laughs again. Probably way louder than she should. Leaning into him and covering her face as she struggles to keep up with his feet.

"Oh my God! You're just so annoying. I can't even—"

"Mr. and Mrs. Styles?" a thick italian accent calls, and they both stop walking.

Aurora is still laughing, trying to catch her breath while she turns her head to the side. A gray-haired man dressed in a black suit steps away from a black car and walks forward, holding a polite smile and gentle expression as he approaches them with nothing but determination.

Harry squeezes her shoulder and leans in, getting closer to her ear.

"If you ask me," he murmurs, and the tone of his voice is suddenly so low that it becomes almost painful, "that should be the one. Mrs. Styles."

A shiver runs down her body, and she swallows.

"Scusi," the man says, thankfully sparing her from having to find any responses or reactions. "Signor e signora Styles?"

"Giusto!" Harry says, squeezing her shoulder and chuckling as he straightens his posture and pulls her closer to his side. "Signor e signora Styles. Sì."

"Piacere! Come stai?" The man stretches his arm, and Harry takes a step forward, shaking hands with him. "Sono Francesco, il tuo tassista."

"Francesco!" Harry smiles. "Buongiorno! Mi chiamo Harry e questa—" He squeezes her again, making a deal out of it as he kisses the top of her head. "È mia moglie, Aurora."

Aurora bites her lip, watching in silence as the man turns to her and stretches his arm once again.

"Aurora. Piacere. Un nome bellissimo."

"Uh…"

Truth be told, she has absolutely no idea what's going on, or what they are talking about. So she chuckles nervously, but makes sure to shake his hand anyway.

"I don't…" She says, tilting her chin up and glancing at Harry. "Sorry. I don't speak Italian."

Harry's expression softens, and the playfulness in his face turns into pure tenderness.

"Oh. No problem," the man says, the Italian accent still thick as he communicates in a different language. Aurora faces him again, and he adds, "Aurora, sì? Beautiful name."

"Oh." She smiles, cheeks getting slightly warm. "Uhm… Gra… Grazie?"

She turns to Harry, again.

"That's thank you, right?"

Still staring at her, Harry smiles, then nods.

Aurora looks back at the man.

"Grazie," she repeats.

"Non c'è di che! Andiamo, sì?"

Aurora tilts her chin up, looking at Harry and waiting for him to take over the conversation.

He shakes his head, then, and turns his attention back to the man. "Sì. Andiamo. Sì."

The man chuckles. "Sposi novelli, eh?"

"Mhm."

"Congratulazioni! Lo immaginavo. So riconoscere lo sguardo di un uomo innamorato."

Harry chuckles and looks down, then scratches his jaw with his free hand and clears his throat. "Così ovvio, eh?"

Aurora doesn't know if it's possible, but she feels her own eyes twinkling as she tilts her chin up and lands her gaze on Harry one more time.

He beams under the gorgeous sunshine, eyes greener than she's ever seen and cheeks flushed as he engages into a conversation with that man. Not only rolling Italian words out of his mouth, but also effortlessly putting them into sentences.

And she's so hypnotized by the whole thing, that she can't even be bothered by the fact that she's not being included or doesn't understand a single thing. She'll gladly let him take the reins for the entire drive as long as she gets to entertain herself with that view.

"Auri?"

Harry squeezes her shoulder, and Aurora blinks. She darts her eyes away from his face, swallowing while he steps towards the car and slides his arm off her shoulders.

"Shall we?" he asks, reaching for the strap on her shoulder.

Aurora is too starstruck to fight him, so she nods and lets him grab her duffel bag, then follows him with her eyes as he and the gray-haired-suited-man place it in the trunk, along with his.

And from then on, Harry plays his part like a true gentleman.

Their driver starts by opening the backseat door for them, but then Harry offers his hand for her to hold and get in first, kissing her temple when she walks past him. She chuckles, but only because of the effort he's putting on just to cover his own lie.

Once they're both inside, he doesn't complain about taking the middle seat when she chooses the window, and even makes sure she's comfortable and has her belt on.

"Possiamo andare?" the gray-haired-suited-man asks.

Harry peeks at her. "Good to go?"

"Mhmmm..."

He nods, then puts his belt on while answering their driver. "Sì, grazie."

The engine starts working, and they're officially on the move to the Amalfi Coast.

"Can I?" Harry whispers to her, hovering her hand with one of his.

"Oh…" Aurora looks at his inked forearm, reaching for her while he keeps his elbow tucked to his side. To be fair, after sobbing into his chest and sleeping on him like a koala, she truly doesn't think holding hands would be awkward at all right now. So she nods and turns her palm around, offering it to him. "Yeah, sure."

And when he places his palm on top of hers and intertwines their fingers, she can actually see herself benefiting from his lie — because Harry's warmth keeps her warmth, as well. Just like she needs to be. Just like she wants to be.

"Credo che Amalfi ti piacerà moltissimo," the man says. "È perfetto per gli innamorati!"

Harry chuckles and scooches down, comfortably spreading his long legs open and pulling their hands to rest on his thigh. "Grazie. È la nostra prima volta in Italia."

"Per quanto starai qui?"

"Solo due giorni. Domenica torniamo a casa."

Aurora is lost in the conversation, but she's also… Physically uncomfortable. Her arm is tense as she stretches it to lay on his leg, and she doesn't want to spend two hours like that. So she shuffles closer, tucking her elbow under his own and fully linking their arms.

"Bene, dovrai tornare un'altra volta per visitare più città," the man says.

Harry sits upright again, then slips his fingers off from her hand.

"Di sicuro," he says, lifting his arm and placing it across her shoulders. "Forse la prossima estate."

He takes his other hand to her palm, then, and intertwines their fingers once again.

It's like they need a moment to get comfortable and find a position that suits both of them, but eventually they get there. With Aurora melting onto his side and him brushing patterns on the skin of her arm.

The man nods and smiles, but says nothing, and silence finally settles in the car.

Until Aurora takes that as an opportunity to speak again.

"So…" she starts, watching their touching hands. "Did I miss something important from your private conversation?"

He freezes next to her. Stiffening his muscles and stopping the movements of his hand on her arm.

"Shit. I didn't even… Sorry." He spreads his hand open on her shoulder, and squeezes her gently. "We were just chit chatting about the city, that's all. But I'll keep in mind to translate now, yeah? Sorry."

"It's fine." She smiles, appreciating the sentiment.

To be honest, she doesn't really care. She wishes she had prepared herself a little bit better for a new country and a new language, that's for sure, but at least she's with Harry now. It will be a lesson learned for the next time — if there ever is one.

"When did you learn how to speak Italian, anyway?"

A smile grows on his face, and he tilts his head to lean it on top of hers.

"I don't know." He shrugs slightly, resuming the brushing of his fingers on her arm. "My mum… I learned from her, that's all."

Aurora frowns. "Is she Italian?"

"Uh… No, she… I mean, my grandfather was."

"Ohhh… Didn't know that. So you've always spoken Italian?"

"I guess? I don't know. I just can find my way around it… That's all."

Aurora hums, and turns to look through the window, admiring the view of a country she's never been to before.

And then she shrugs, making sure she sounds teasingly when she says, "Well… Now that you've brought up your mum, then I guess it'll be inappropriate to mention how incredibly hot and sexy you sound when you speak Italian, right?"

Harry chokes.

He literally chokes. Straightening up and coughing while letting her hand go to smack his palm on his chest.

Aurora sits upright as well, holding back a smile as she tries to catch a glimpse of his face and murmurs questions like "what's wrong?" and "are you okay?".

The driver says something, too, and Harry shakes his head, raising his free hand waving a finger at him.

"I'm…" He coughs again, and brings his hand to his throat. "Sto bene—" (cough) "Grazie."

"Ugh, see?" Aurora murmurs, leaning against the backseat and grabbing his hand on her shoulder, making sure he doesn't pull his arm away. "Told you. Incredibly sexy."

Cough. Cough. Cough.

Cough.

"Shit."

Cough.

Aurora giggles.

Yep. That's actually pretty fun.

They park at what first seems a dead-end street, but in reality it continues turning right and going up the hill.

Aurora gets out of the car slowly, feeling the hardness of the concrete under her feet as she straightens her back and tips her neck back. The sun is shining, and she rests the side of her hand on top of her eyes, blocking out the brightness and taking in the view — the hills, the rocks, the shades of green, the colorful houses and buildings.

She places her free hand against her breastbone, and slowly releases the air inside of her lungs. She doesn't want that surreal feeling to end, so she stands frozen in the spot for another moment, or two.

She's heard about people going through moments when all their concerns and worries fall away, but it has never been a first hand experience of hers. Not until that day, at least.

The closest she can imagine to that feeling was the moment she finally physically met Noah, the exact second his tiny crying body was placed between her arms. That didn't last too long, though, with her body hurting and the exhaustion taking over every inch of her — both emotionally and physically.

Earlier that day, when she woke up snuggled into Harry's arms, she also experienced something very similar to that — the same sense of calm and peace. Then again, it also didn't last too long, since she knew she was overstepping and had to pull herself from his embrace.

(Besides, to be fair, she isn't sure if it's the same thing, or if she's just really confused right now.)

Still, there she is right now, standing in an unknown city, where she doesn't know anyone and can't even speak the language, feeling as if all of her concerns and worries have fallen away. It's pretty similar to those other two occasions, only this time the feeling doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

It feels as if it's settled to stay.

The trunk of the car slams shut, and Aurora turns on her feet.

On the other side of the taxi, Harry chats excitedly with their driver. And behind them, opposite from the city, is the ocean.

It's a little after three in the afternoon, and they are finally at Marina Coppola, the port of Amalfi.

The gray-haired-suited-man looks at her and nods, saying things she can't even try to understand. The only words she somehow recognizes are "amore", and "buona giornata", but still, she isn't sure she really knows what they're supposed to mean.

So Aurora simply smiles, watching as Harry does — once again — all the talking for both of them.

"Grazie!" he says, clasping one hand on the man's shoulder and firmly shaking his hand. "Anche a te!"

The driver raises one hand at her, and she lifts one hand, too, waving and blinking slowly as he gets inside the car.

Harry moves to the sidewalk with both duffel bags, and Aurora waits for the man to drive away before getting closer to him.

And then she reaches for her bag, but Harry dodges her and taps her hand away.

"Nuh-uh, Mrs. Styles."

Aurora's cheeks warm up, and she rolls her eyes.

During their ride, their driver referred to her as Mrs. Styles more than a few times. He'd ask questions about the view, or chit chat about the weather and ask her opinion about it. And Harry, of course, would be the one to always translate the questions, making sure to not only include Mrs. Styles, but also emphasize it.

"Well… Marriage is over, so…"

She shrugs and smiles, but maybe her joke hits a little too close to her heart, because she doesn't feel like fighting him anymore. Instead, she allows her curious eyes to shift around and capture as many details as she can.

It is nice to see the ocean again. Long, wide, far-reaching. She's also seen a restaurant at the marina's entrance, and although the street is filled with cars, there aren't many people walking.

She remembers Lucy explaining in their group chat how they chose a weekend in May exactly because of that — because it wouldn't be so filled with tourists, but the weather would still be perfect for a swim. Aurora can't deny she'd been scared of rain ruining their plans, but the sun is, in fact, shining with no signs of any clouds around — which is probably also helpful to set that magic scenario around them.

And as Aurora admires the postcard worthy sight, it dawns on her that Amalfi looks exactly as she has seen in pictures. Maybe the colors aren't as bright and intense as Instagram usually made it seem, but it is still colorful. Still captivating, still mesmerizing.

Being there, she can actually smell the fresh water, the fish, and the sunscreen. She can also feel the prickle of sunburn on her arms, and the wind pulling at her dress and her hair. She can even actually hear the small waves, the boats motoring past on their way to water, and the laughter and excitement of people at the docks.

The atmosphere is real, and yet still impossible to describe. It fills her with life, with hopes, and with dreams.

It is… Surreal.

Magical.

"This is unbelievable," she finally murmurs. Her voice is soft and delicate, though — as if she doesn't want to break the spell surrounding them.

"I know," Harry says, mimicking her tone. "'S really beautiful, innit?"

She turns her head to look at him, and finds him watching the hills across from them, the same ones she was watching just minutes before. She can see him furrowing his brows under his sunglasses, his head moving from one side to the other.

"Yeah," Aurora breathes out.

Harry is beautiful. The daylight makes his skin look tanner, and the wind messes with his hair, too — although he doesn't seem to mind. And the facial hair glows on his face, somehow screaming at her how grownup he is. Somehow turning into a reminder of how good he took care of her, of how good he made her feel.

Shit.

She swallows, and faces the port again.

Can she still blame these thoughts on her lack of sleep?

Maybe she's being delusional. Maybe she is still so confused that she doesn't know what is reality or dreaming anymore. Or maybe she's spent so much time without interacting with any men that she doesn't know what's friendly or not anymore. Maybe she's mixing things up. Maybe Harry has just been protective of her. Like Theo and Niall are.

Shit.

The wind pulls her hair to her face, and she takes her arms to put her locks into an improvised knot.

Hundreds of various-sized boats are lined up along the docks, and they are all so different from each other that she realizes she's never stopped to think about their different names.

Are they boats? Are they all yachts? Is there even a difference? And what would that difference be?

"So…" she says, pausing to clear out her throat and rub the tip of her nose. "A ferry is one of those that you can get into with your car, right?"

Harry glances over his shoulder, watching her silently for a moment.

She can feel his eyes on her face, but she resists the temptation of looking at him.

And then he nods and turns around, standing next to her and facing the ocean as well. "Yeah… Have you ever been in one?"

Aurora shakes her head.

"No… I remember from the movie 'How to lose a guy in ten days'. Have you seen it?"

He turns his head and stares at her in silence once again, until a loud laugh erupts from him.

She turns her head, too, and tilts her chin up, looking at him.

"What?" she asks, lifting her left eyebrow.

"Sorry… It's just…"

He shakes his head and scratches his jaw, waiting until calming down before explaining himself.

"Oh God… You made me watch that movie soooo many times," he says, voice filled with amusement while he tilts his neck back and looks at the sky.

Aurora keeps her eyes on his shoulder, focusing on the flamingos in his shirt.

"I did?" She frowns. "I don't—When?"

"Movie nights at your place, remember?" He pulls his hair back, smiling at her, and then at the horizon. "We used to do them once a week for a month or two. Usually everyone fell asleep and we were the only ones awake. Somehow, you'd end up always making tea and putting that DVD on."

He shrugs, as if recalling that memory it's just the most common thing in the world.

To Aurora, though, it isn't.

"Wow…" She blinks, staring at the port again. "I can't… I honestly can't believe how many things you remember and I don't."

"Oh, it's okay, we were—"

"No, it's not. It makes me feel like shit."

"Auri—"

"You know I really like you, right?" she asks, focusing on the way the waves crash against one specific boat. "It's not you… I mean, I don't remember so many things, it's like I blocked stuff from my memory, but it's not because they didn't mean anything to me… I promise. I've always enjoyed our friendship, I just—"

Harry places his hand on her shoulder, and Aurora twists her neck to look at him.

"C'mon…" His sunglasses are on the top of his head now, pulling his hair back, and he stares firmly into her eyes. "I don't expect you to remember the same things I do, ok? We're fine. Everything's good. You don't need to be so tense about everything you do or say. Not around me, at least. Ok?"

"Okay…" She nods once, then twice. And then she shakes her head. "Yeah, okay. Yeah."

"Okay," he repeats, a smile forming on his lips and his hand slipping away from her shoulder.

Aurora can still feel his fingertips burning on her skin, though, and it dawns on her that, after spending the entire drive holding his hand and relaxing under his arm, now it's weird to not be able to just… Touch him again.

"And just so you know," he adds. "I've been on a ferry. A couple of times, actually."

Aurora gasps, then grins at him, gladly accepting the change of subject.

She asks when, and where, and why, and Harry chuckles. He answers while putting his sunglasses back on, then keeps the conversation going as he leads the way to the docks and to their friends.

And they walk together, of course. All the time.

There's a white arch they have to get through, and Harry raises his arm, gesturing for her to go first. She smiles shyly, looking at him over her shoulder as she steps onto the aluminum gangway.

She walks across what looks like a green carpet before getting to the actual dock — a narrow wooden path stretched out into the water and leading to all different yachts — and then they are walking side by side again.

Always side by side.

Even when they have to dodge people on the way, some simply standing and chatting, some prepping their boats for sailing, some just returning to land.

Then it gets to a point where all Aurora can see are bare masts reaching into the sky, birds flying, and ropes around their feet.

They turn left on the dock, and sweat trickles over the back of her neck, just like her inner thighs sting from brushing against each other. She sighs and scratches the tip of her nose, listening to Harry as he chats about how he stopped eating meat a while ago, but was willing to eat fish again during the weekend.

Aurora nods at him, and then the growl of an engine starting up makes her jolt and gasp. She widens her eyes and takes her hand to her chest, and Harry chuckles next to her.

She rolls her eyes and relaxes, smiling as she pokes his side with her elbow. "Shut up…"

He nods, pursing his lips and stopping himself from laughing even more.

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Styles."

"Ughhh. I won't be hearing the end of this anytime soon, will I?"

"See? That's why I married you. You know me too well."

She snorts, and then Harry slows down walking.

"Ok, all jokes aside now. Aurora Fletcher, are you ready to have some fun?"

Aurora smiles.

To be fair, she's been having fun for a while now, but her body still sparkles with excitement at his words. So she moves her head quickly in agreement, just to make sure Harry can see it. "Yes, please."

"Good, because if my eyes aren't messing with me," he says, raising his arm to point out ahead of them, "I think those up there are our friends…"

Aurora looks up, tilting her chin and squinting her eyes when the sun strikes right into her line of view. Like she did before, she places the side of her hand against her eyebrows, blocking the brightness and blinking to focus where Harry seems to be pointing at.

When she recognizes the silhouette of some of their friends, she realizes they aren't just on a yacht — they are standing at the top floor of a massive, luxurious yacht.

Aurora's mouth falls open, her eyes seem to bulge out of her face, and her body freezes.

"What the hell?" she murmurs.

Or, in other words, what the hell were Lucy and Theo thinking?!

"Now I see what Niall meant about it blowing my mind," Harry says next to her. "Fuck yeah, this is gonna be great! C'mon."

His joyful and energetic voice is enough to wake Aurora up from the half-conscious state she's fallen into, but he still puts his hand in between her shoulder blades and pushes her slightly, encouraging her to move along with him.

"They're waiting for us, yeah? It's gonna be fun, but if it gets too much let me know and we'll just take a break from everyone."

Aurora blinks.

"I don't… I don't know if I'll be able to," she blurts out, not moving her feet from the spot.

Her eyes are still wide open, but she darts them up to stare at Harry.

He pulls his sunglasses back to the top of his head and takes two steps closer, standing right in front of her and letting their bags fall to his feet. His figure is tall enough to block the movements ahead from her view, allowing Aurora to focus on him, and only him.

"I mean—" She shakes her head, organizing her thoughts. "I don't know if I'll be brave enough to ask for help."

Harry nods, and a wave of understanding engulfs Aurora's body. She drops her shoulders, and her eyebrows, then lets a long breath out of her nose.

"Maybe we could come up with a sign then, yeah?" He puts his hands right above her elbows, then gently moves them up and down. Rubbing her upper arms and soothing her down.

"A sign?"

"Mhm. Just, y'know, something to let each other know we could use some company? For both of us… Maybe I'll need it, too."

Aurora chuckles and rubs her forehead, knowing damn well he won't need it.

Still, she nods.

"Maybe, okay… Yeah."

"Good. Any suggestions?"

"Hmmm… I don't know. Pinching the tip of the nose?"

"No, nuh-uh." Harry shakes his head. "You already do that a lot."

Aurora frowns. "No I don't."

"Trust me, you do." Harry tightens his fingers around her arms, then loosens them up. "Scratching our jaws? I mean, your jaw… You scratch yours, I scratch mine…"

Aurora purses her lips, and his own mouth twitches in amusement.

"You know what I mean…"

"Yeah…" Her eyes wander around his face for a moment, and she sighs. "But no, because that's something you already do a lot."

Harry turns the corner of his mouth into a smirk, and Aurora squeezes her hands into fists to stop herself from poking the dimple on his cheek.

"I do?"

She shrugs. "Mhm."

"If you say so…"

He stays put inside her eyes, capturing her inside a mesmerizing green spell and forcing her to just wait there. Powerless and helpless. With no other option but to stare back at him.

Letting time go by — letting time run by.

As if they weren't already late.

As if they weren't the last ones to arrive.

As if they didn't have a massive, overpriced yacht waiting for them.

"What about our ears, then?" he offers, his voice huskier and somehow slower.

Aurora swallows. And her stomach flutters just as much as her chest tightens.

"Y'know," he adds, then takes a step closer. "You tug yours, I tug mine…"

He moves one hand, letting go of her arm as he drifts it to her face.

He touches her cheek first, breezily, then slides to her ear, brushing her skin in the process and making it tingle.

Aurora holds her breath, and as she stares at him, she feels her earlobe being touched by two of his fingers.

She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them again, she drifts her sight to his mouth. Unconsciously and unintentionally.

Harry slides his tongue between his lips, getting them wet before he turns them into a smirk.

"Like this," he murmurs, then gives her ear a little tug.

Shit.

Aurora looks back at him.

Everything he's doing right now feels soft, intentional, and… Extremely and weirdly right.

There's a feeling deep down her stomach that she's unable to name. Maybe a flush, maybe a tingle, or maybe a throb. Or maybe all of them.

She can't describe it, she can't understand it.

She can't name it.

But it's there, and it's doing things to her. Things she hasn't felt in a very long time.

"Hm? What do you say?" he asks, so softly it almost makes her whine.

Her heart picks up, and she doesn't think she'll be strong enough to move away from his touch. Not then, not ever again.

"Okay," she whispers. "Yes."

His smirk turns into a smile, and he leans in, pressing his lips firmly against her forehead.

It only lasts a second, and then Harry pulls away from her and hunches down to pick up their bags.

W—What?

Why…

Aurora blinks at him.

Why did he stop?

Why did he move away?

"It's settled, then," Harry says. "C'mon, let's get this party started."

Hiii :)

I thought about adding some more scenes here, but tbh I feel like these two should be together and get all the attention, so this is where part 3 officially ends. Next part it's a long one and includes meeting all of their friends, so I hope you've enjoyed their last moments by themselves hehe 🤭

Thanks for reading!

Dani

(if you've made it here, pls talk to me and say Francesco lol)

PART FOUR (I)

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction

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dystopicjumpsuit · 1 year ago

Note

DJ!!! If it's okay, for the first kiss prompt could I humbly ask for

"are you sure about this" with our voice king, Sev?

Or!!

their hearts stopping when they hear someone's camera click (a friend catching them in the act ?) with Tup?

Whichever one inspires you more! Please and thank you 💙

A/N: Thank you so much for the ask @secondaryrealm! It was so fun to get back into the swing of writing Sev. You’ll notice that I’m incapable of writing him without mentioning his voice. Voice kink gonna voice kink. Prompt is in purple!

Pairing: Sev x Reader (GN)

Rating: T, but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 519

Warnings and tags: fluff, mentions of vomit

Summary: You do Sev a solid.

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Are you sure about this?” Sev’s deep voice rumbled in your ear, sending a tingle of awareness across your neck.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “Kriff, no.”

He smirked and slid his helmet into place. “Too bad.”

Without warning, he spun you around and tackled you, sending you both flying out of the LAAT/i and into the abyss as his arms clamped around your body.

You shrieked, too terrified to be embarrassed by the sound. “Oh, my gods, I’m gonna die!”

You clung to Sev, burying your face against his chestplate as you squeezed your eyes shut, clenching your jaw to try to keep from screaming again.

Sev’s low, modulated chuckle sounded through his helmet speaker. “Relax, I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

“Carrying another person?!” you demanded raggedly, still not opening your eyes.

“Uh… no,” he admitted. “That’s why we needed volunteers for the training exercise.”

Your eyes snapped open, not that it mattered, since all you could see was Sev’s armor and helmet.

“Sev,” you asked nervously, “how many times have you done this while carrying somebody?”

“This is the first. I think it’s going well.”

“I can’t believe I let Scorch talk me into this,” you groaned.

“Everyone who’s ever met Scorch has said that at some point.”

You felt your weight shift as he adjusted the flight path of his jetpack, and your stomach flip-flopped. Gods, I think I’m gonna hurl. Please, please don’t let me hurl on him, you prayed silently to the Force.

“Don’t drop me,” you begged.

“Even if I did, the tether would keep you close.” Sev seemed to sense you didn’t find that as reassuring as he thought you would, and he tightened his fingers on you briefly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

True to his word, he soon landed the pair of you safely on the ground. As he released you, your knees buckled, and he caught you just before you collapsed. He yanked off his helmet with his free hand, and you heard it thud to the ground as he tilted your head so he could see your face.

“You okay?” he asked, scanning you quickly for injuries.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said shakily. “I just need a minute.”

You willed your legs to work as you tried not to stare at his deep, gorgeous eyes or his stupid, perfect mouth that you’d been trying to ignore for months. Why does he smell so kriffing good? He has no right to smell like that.

You cleared your throat. “I, uh, think I can stand now.”

Sev didn’t loosen the arm he had wrapped around your waist, and he stroked your cheek softly with his thumb as he held your head. You gazed into each other’s eyes, as though suspended in time, and then he closed the distance between you as his lips met yours. His lips felt exactly as soft and stupidly perfect as you’d imagined, and you sucked in a tiny, broken gasp when the kiss ended far too soon.

“Wow,” you sighed. “I’m so glad I didn’t hurl on you.”

---

Looking for spicy Sev x reader fics? Allow me to plug my incredibly spicy fic, “Turn It Up When You’re Gone” Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3. The fourth and final chapter will be dropping next month!

#rc 1207 #republic commando sev #delta squad #repcomm #republic commando #sev x reader #star wars #clone wars #star wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction #dystopicjumpsuit writes #ask fic

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gravitycavity · 2 months ago

Text

[Preview] Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 8

Faintly, Ragatha lifted her head. The will to fight faded in her eyes, as though she knew that the frigid despair pumping from her ruptured heart was unstoppable; only a scant few places — the bottoms of her flat Mary Janes, the stitched tips of her simplified hands, and half of her cherubic face — remained un-abstracted.

Still, she spoke through the pain. “I…love you so much, my Sunshine,” she croaked, leaning her head against Pomni’s chest. The weakened grimace upon her face shied away from two tearful eyes. “I’m so, so sorry our story had to end this way…”

“H-Hey! Don’t talk like that!” scolded Pomni between haggard breaths, “It’s not over yet! Everything’s gonna be okay!”

“Maybe,” Ragatha choked out, her worn-out voice shattered to pieces. “Whatever happens, Pomni, I want you to know — you are everything. Just everything. My whole wide world. And you always will be,” she said. Pearly tears glistened down the soft curves of her cheeks. “No matter what comes next, I’ll never forget the time we spent together. I just wish I could have learned your real name. Or brushed my thumbs across your real cheeks, or rested my head on your real shoulders…”

“You will! I promise you will!” Pomni said, a frog in her throat. Her fierce gaze, wet with tears, fixed on the crooked elevator doors down the hall. She was nearly there. A stone’s throw away. Nearly to the end of this horrendous nightmare. “We’re going to get out of this stupid game together, no matter how long it takes us! We’ll find each other in the real world, no matter how far we have to travel, because…” Pomni shakily swallowed, “Because I love you! I love you, Ragatha, more than anything else in this stupid world!”

Ragatha smiled, despite everything. “Sunshine…?” she breathed. The creaking of floorboards beneath Pomni’s feet — and a distant, monstrous groan down the hall — filled in the pregnant pause before the dolly found the strength to speak again, “Humor me?”

Pomni’s brows squinched together. Humor her? What was Ragatha talking about? “H-Huh?”

“Do you…do you still remember the color of your eyes…?”

“Uh—” Pomni’s head flinched slightly. Ragatha’s question wasn’t unusual — but decidedly out-of-the-blue. Her eyes. What color were her eyes? The gut response of ‘ I don’t know’ or ‘why do you ask’ waited impatiently on the tip of her tongue, and yet, Pomni knew in her heart that that wouldn’t do.

“I, um—” Pomni glanced down. Ragatha stared back, black abstraction spreading across a patient, yet expectant look. “That’s a good question…”

It had been ages since Pomni had given herself more than a passing glance in her toothpaste-flecked bathroom mirror, let alone looked away from her big, ugly blemishes long enough to notice such a trivial detail. She could barely even recall the last time anyone had brought up the color of her eyes. Sometime back in the ‘00s, she figured — when life was simple, and she was old enough to count her age on just two hands.

In truth, she was only half-sure, but she couldn’t leave Ragatha hanging. Pomni chewed on the answer a little while longer before finally spitting it out: “Uh. J-Just brown. I think,” she huffed, squinting at her destination. She was close enough now to make out the distinct “C&A” etched above the elevator door, “Nothing too special.”

“Brown…” Ragatha swooned, “...such a charming color. Copper pans, Autumn leaves, fancy leather couches…” she cooed, wearing a peaceful smile even as strands of abstraction stretched across her mouth, “...I can almost see them now. Goodness gracious, how beautiful they are…”

- - -

New chapter soon! Promise!

#pomni x ragatha #buttonblossom #ragapom #ragatha x pomni #jesterdoll #tadc fanfiction #tadc #fanfic #lesbian

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stormz369 · 1 month ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 15

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: we have officially hit "vaguely suggestive" (spice incoming ... eventually... still), but mostly we're dealing with trauma and boundaries

wc: 2.2k

Chapter Selection

Jason insisted I shouldn't be alone overnight after everything, and I didn't want to be anyway. After losing him in the dark, even just for a few minutes, I wanted to know exactly where he was for a while. He kept a hand on my knee the whole ride to his place, lazily running his thumb over my skirt.

As I predicted, the panic did start to settle in eventually, though much later than I thought it would. As we made our way to his door, I realized my hands and knees were trembling and I was struggling to regulate my breathing. Jason looked over to me and gently pulled me against him, kissing my forehead.

“You’re finally coming down from all that adrenaline, huh?” I nodded, shakily clinging to him. “Just breathe for me, ok? In through your nose … out through your mouth… good, good girl~ I got you, ok?”

I squeaked softly, blushing bright red. Jason tilted his head, clearly confused, and mimed the deep, slow breathes he wanted me to take. I eventually matched my breathing to his, clinging to his arm. Once I was breathing regularly, he unlocked the door and scooped me up with an arm under my knees and one on my back. I gasped sharply, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“W-woah! … How'd you do that?” I blinked a bit, feeling my cheeks warm up. I knew he was strong, but he was carrying me into the apartment with the same effort I used to carry a bag of potatoes!

He chuckled, kicking the door shut behind us. “Did you think the muscles were for aesthetics?”

I blushed bright red, blinking. “... N- no, I didn't, just … no one's picked me up like this before.”

He smirked a bit, locking the door. “I would carry you like this all day if it would make you happy~”

I giggled softly, cupping his cheek. My other hand hovered near the scarred side of his face; “Can I..?”

He nodded, and I cupped that cheek as well, kissing him deeply. He groaned softly, and his lips pressed firmly against mine. He carried me through the living room and sat on the couch, holding me across his lap. His arms were so strong and steady around me, and I slowly melted against his chest. After a moment, he gently nibbled on my lower lip, letting out a happy sigh when my lips parted to let him in.

Jason stroked my back more, and one hand wrapped around my cheek so his fingers tangled into my hair as he slowly deepened the kiss, keeping me pressed firmly against him. When I pulled back to gasp for breath, he nuzzled my neck with the tip of his nose, kissing the soft flesh of my pulse point.

“Mhhh~ J- Jay?~”

He moaned softly, purring; “Mh~ … Mh-hm?~”

“N-not that I'm complaining -I'm definitely not- but … what … what are you doing?”

“... Not really sure. Just … need you … Need to feel you, all soft, and warm, and safe in my arms~” he nuzzled me more, holding me close. “... I- is that ok?”

“Yeah, that’s ok~ that's definitely ok, baby~” I let my fingers thread through his hair, tilting my head back for him. He continued to nuzzle and kiss my throat, gripping me a bit tighter, like he was afraid I'd disappear.

“Mhh~ … want you all to myself~ you're mine, right?~” his teeth grazed against my neck, drawing out an eager gasp.

“Ah~ yes~ all yours, my love~ I'm here, anything you want~”

“Want you so bad, baby~” he groaned, pulling me into a deep kiss.

“Mhh~ I want you too, Jason~” I gently tugged on his hair, biting his lower lip a bit. I shifted so my legs were on either side of his, and he wrapped his arms around my back and thighs, pressing my body flush against his chest. His lips trailed down my neck, panting softly as his hand gently kneaded into my plush thighs.

My hands slipped out of his hair and down his neck, marveling at how the anxiety from earlier just melted away under his touch. I was safe in Jason's arms, and I never wanted to leave. My fingertips slid under his collar and he shivered a bit, stiffening. His breaths came out in short, shallow gasps, and his chest and arms were suddenly trembling against me. I slowly pulled back, sliding my hands away from his neck. He blinked repeatedly, still holding me tightly, but not focused on me anymore.

“... Jason? … Honey?” There was a far away look in his eyes as he slowly looked up at me. “... Jace, can you hear me?”

He nodded, taking a deep, slow breath. After a moment his eyes came back into focus and he sighed softly. “... S- sorry, I …”

“... You were in the past, weren't ya?” He nodded again, looking off to the side. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. … Do you know what triggered it?”

“... I … I think it was … the adrenaline spike, and then … th- this got really intense, really fast. …”

I gently stroked his hair, nodding. “Do you wanna let go of me so I can give you a bit of space?”

His hands flexed a bit on my thighs as he considered; “... I … no … I want this, my god, I want this, I … I want you, I just …” he sighed softly, resting his forehead against my chest, mumbling into my tummy; “... I … don't think I can have your hands under my clothes yet. … I'm sorry.”

I softly hushed him, stroking his hair more and kissed the top of his head; “you don't have to apologize for having boundaries. And I'm glad you know you can tell me when they come up, that's how this is supposed to work.”

“... Ok.” He nodded, sighing softly as he looked up at me. “... I don't want to stop, but I don't know how to continue either …”

I nodded, stroking his hair gently. “Hmm … well, … why don't we start by getting changed into some more comfortable clothes?”

He nodded, nuzzling into my chest. “Yeah, I … I can do that.”

I stroked his hair more, smiling gently. “Ok. … Since you don't want my hands under your clothes yet, why don't you pick out something that covers anywhere you don't want me to touch? And then, after we're changed and had a moment to calm down, we can see about continuing this in a way that feels safe and comfortable?”

He nodded again, sliding his arms up to hug my waist. “Yeah, that … that sounds nice. … It's really ok?”

“It's really ok. Thank you for telling me what went wrong so we could fix it together.” he slowly released me, and I slid off his thighs, turning around. “Can you help me unzip this?”

He stood, resting a hand on my back, and slowly slid the zipper down. “... You look incredible tonight~”

I giggled softly, looking over my shoulder; “thank you~ you do too~”

I went into the bathroom to change into my pj shorts and an oversized shirt, took my makeup off, and finally met Jason in his room. He was sitting on his bed in the dark when I came in. “Do you want the light to stay off?”

He cleared his throat; “Um … yeah, I … I think it would help. Is that weird?”

“No, it's not weird, baby. And even if it were, it would be ok.” I carefully made my way toward the bed, stopping when my knees hit the side. “Can I come up?”

“Yeah, come sit next to me.” He leaned forward, his hand finding mine and gently pulling me onto the bed with him. I grinned, letting him pull me into a hug. I was surprised to realize his arms were bare; he had opted for a tank top, the first time I'd known him to wear one, and sweatpants.

“You’re ok with me touching your arms?” I looked up at his face, barely making out his eyes in the dark room.

“Yeah, I … I think it'll be ok. I want to try at least.” He nodded, gently cupping my cheek. “Can I do something?”

I nodded, kissing his thumb as it slid across my lower lip. He shifted, laying down, and pulled me to lay on my side in front of him. Face to face, he carefully rested his hand on my waist, stroking my side gently. I sighed happily, blinking slowly. “Mh~ this is nice~ … you make me feel so safe~”

“... I wish I could have done something to actually make you safe tonight … Fucking Nightwing …” he growled softly, sounding a bit … bitter?

I frowned, gently cupping his cheek; “You did make me safe; you kept me close, stayed between me and the guys with the guns, and then you pulled me into the cellar. My big, strong, handsome protector~”

He squirmed a bit, sighing softly; “... If you say so…”

I chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. “I do say so~ I'm your girl, remember? I choose you, always.”

He pulled me closer, kissing back. “... You could have better…”

“Even if there was better out there, I wouldn't want it. I want you.”

“... I want you too. … God, I want you so much~” he cupped my cheeks, kissing me gently.

I moaned softly, kissing back, and gently gripped his wrists. My fingers trailed across his muscular arms, eventually finding a long thin scar. I delicately traced it, feeling him shiver a bit.

“Ah … wh- what are you doing?”

“Sorry, should I stop?” I whispered.

“... No, it's just … what is it?”

I shrugged a bit, nuzzling against him; “... I like the scars.”

“... You … like them?”

“Well, to be clear - I don't like that you got hurt. But yeah, I like the scars.”

“... Why?” He pulled back slightly.

I could feel myself blushing a bit as I continued to trace a long, hooked scar near his elbow. “... Probably because of what they represent.”

His voice came out a choked, incredulous whisper; “... They represent times I've failed. Or almost failed. … Times I wasn't fast enough, or strong enough, or smart enough…”

“What? … Jay, no! No, no, no, baby!” I guided his hand to my lips, kissing the scar by his wrist. My lips trailed from one scar to the next as I whispered; “Your scars are from times you were brave, and strong, and kind. … When I see your scars, I see a man who doesn't let bullies win just because it's easier to walk away. I see a man who'd stand in the blade's path rather than let someone else get hurt. �� You've been through so much, suffered so much, and yet you still don't turn your back and let someone else take the hit. … Some people let pain make them cruel, but not you. My man is so kind; so brave, and gentle, and determined, and loving. … These scars mean that I am safe; you would probably see and dispense with any danger long before I even got that prickly ‘being watched' feeling on the back of my neck.”

I kissed every scar I found from his hand to his inner elbow, caressing and tracing them reverently. Soon enough, he was squirming and panting softly under my touch, and moving his arm on his own to give me access to the next one. “... Y- yes … yes, of course! … W- wouldn't let anyone hurt you, baby. Promise!”

I kissed further up his arm, whispering; “I know~ you're so protective of me~ I love you so much, Jason~”

“I love you too~ God, I love you so much~ … I …” he cut himself off, shaking.

I looked up at him, nuzzling and kissing a large round scar on his bicep; “... What is it, baby?”

“I just … I don't understand … you say these things, but … I haven't even been able to tell you … how do you know?”

“... You don't have to tell me how they got here; scars born from violence are very different from scars born from clumsiness or accidents. These are the kinds of scars you expect to see on boxers and soldiers, not the remnants of that one time you cut yourself while chopping onions.”

“... You're really not mad that I haven't told you yet?”

“... Are you mad that it took me six months to tell you I was attacked the night before our first date?”

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. “Of course not!”

“Then why would I be mad you're having trouble talking about these?”

He stroked my back gently, holding me against his chest. “... I'll figure out how to do it soon. I promise…”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing his shoulder. “Whenever you're ready, I'll listen.”

“... I just … I don't want anything to change, when I do …”

“Sweetheart, of course things will change. But I think they'll change for the better, when I have more context. … We're stumbling in the dark, but if we know the light switch is to the left, we can search for it more efficiently.”

“ … What if it's worse? …”

“... Then we'll navigate it together. … If there's no light switch, we'll make candles.”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc #red hood x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no y/n #multichapter fic #Can I Get Your Number?

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katelynnwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Can You Keep Me Close? (Can You Love Me Most?) | Ona Batlle

warnings: smut, skip the first part of the fic if you’re uncomfortable with that

word count: 3430

summary: all you want is for someone to stay, keep you close and love you most. will ona be able to do so for you again?

chosen song: someone to stay by vancouver sleep clinic

a/n: chapter 5/6 of you were bigger than the whole sky (you were more than just a short time), includes this request

Ona gasps into your mouth, her hands reaching for your waist.

This kiss isn’t at all like your first kiss.

It’s desperate, full of emotion and messy. You can taste the salt of Ona’s tears and you’re sure she can taste yours.

‘What does this mean?’ Ona breathes, putting her hands on your chest to stop you from connecting your lips a second time.

Her chocolate brown eyes are shining, breathing uneven as she trembles slightly.

You use your thumb to carefully brush away a tear that escapes from her eye.

‘We can talk more later but right now will you show me that you want me? Please Ona.’ You whisper, the weight of your request hanging in the tiny space between the both of you.

‘I can do that.’ Ona murmurs, nodding her head slightly.

The Spanish woman kisses you carefully, slowly walking you backwards towards your bed, where she sits you down.

Her hands slip under your hoodie, the gentle touch of her fingers on your skin making goosebumps form.

Ona feels them and smiles, heart clenching as she realises the effect she still has on you.

‘You’re so beautiful.’ She hums, tilting your head so that she can place a kiss onto the sensitive spot you have there.

The combined effect of her demonstrating that she still knew your body and her lips on that particular place makes you shiver.

‘Ona...’ You moan when she begins sucking gently.

Ona moans herself, your moan of her name sounding like heaven to her ears. She didn’t think she’d ever hear it again.

She keeps up her suction for a few more seconds before pulling away and seeking your permission to tug your hoodie off.

You shrug the material off immediately and Ona is quick to begin mapping your skin with her lips.

‘Y-you can leave marks if you like.’ You stammer shakily.

Ona groans at that, finding your collarbone and eagerly getting to work.

******

The first hickey sixteen year old Ona gives you is a complete accident. Making out with you had felt so good that she had gotten carried away.

She’s nervous and apologetic about it, completely freaked out by the bruise she’d marred your skin with.

Unlike her, you’re quite calm about her hickey, simply admiring it in the mirror (you loved how it looked on you).

Ona’s still flustered by the time you turn around to look back at her and that makes you laugh.

‘Don’t worry about it Oni. I think it looks great.’

‘Y-you do?’

‘Mhm. I do however, think it’s only fair that I’m allowed to give you one too.’

Your girlfriend becomes even more flustered by your response (her red cheeks are adorable you think).

Eventually she settles on a shy, ‘Only if you want to.’

Grinning, you’re fast to carefully tilt her neck to get better access. A gentle suction is started moments after you press a few kisses there.

Ona’s knees nearly buckle and her blush darkens.

As you continue with your rather enjoyable task, she lets out a moan and a strained, ‘Te amo.’

******

She leaves a red mark on your collarbone that you know will darken in a matter of hours.

The same treatment is given to your other collarbone before Ona moves on to trace what she can see of your breasts with her forefinger.

‘Off?’ You question and Ona nods (very eagerly you might add).

You acquiesce, lifting your arms so that Ona can take off your bra.

Her eyes immediately drop down, staring at your boobs in a way that would have made you self conscious if you hadn’t already known that she would do that (the first time Ona saw them you thought she was going to combust).

******

‘C-can I touch them-you?’ Ona stutters, unable to look away.

‘Amor, I change in front of you all the time. You’ve seen me in my underwear.’ You tease but Ona flushes and whines, ‘It’s not the same.’

You laugh and decide to put her out of her misery.

‘Go on Oni.’

Your sixteen year old girlfriend doesn’t need to be told twice.

******

Ona moans, as she cups your breasts. Her fingers brush over your nipples, making them stiffen almost immediately.

The fullback rolls them between her thumb and forefinger, alternating between that particular movement and gentle pinching.

‘Ona por favor.’ You plead, needing more.

You’re squeezing your thighs together, wanting Ona to give you something, anything to relieve that ache.

‘What do you need? Talk to me baby.’

‘Please. I need more.’ (‘i need you’ is left unsaid).

Ona kisses you passionately, pressing you onto your back as she straddles you.

‘Better?’

‘Sí.’

The Spanish woman leaves a trail of kisses as she moves down your body, only stopping when she reaches the waistband of your shorts.

She slips a hand underneath them, fingers seeking the wet spot on your underwear.

Ona finds it easily, pressing down and making your hips buck.

‘You’re so wet.’ Ona breathes.

‘You still get so wet for me.’

‘Always Ona.’ You admit, raising yourself on your elbows so that you can see her better.

Her eyes are wide and slightly teary so she hides that by removing your shorts and underwear.

Ona presses a kiss onto your pussy, splaying her hand onto your stomach to keep you still.

It’s much needed when she sucks your clit into her mouth, tongue swirling around it.

You cry out and Ona begins in earnest, trying to give you as much pleasure as she can.

‘You taste amazing amor.’

She pushes your legs further apart, spreading your folds and making you moan incoherently as she licks.

Your hand reaches down to tangle in Ona’s hair, tugging on it and making her hum against your soaking core.

The vibrations make your hip jerk uncontrollably and Ona laughs.

‘Sensitive Ona! Too sensitive.’

‘Lo siento.’ She whispers, giving you a little kiss on your swollen clit in apology, even as she smiles.

Ona’s touch is both reassuring and generous, intrinsically attuned to drawing out your pleasure.

And she does, making you let out a sharp cry of her name as you come onto her tongue.

The Spaniard grins, loving how still responded so beautifully to her affections.

She gives you a minute to recover, taking your hand in hers and kissing you on your fingers as you try and get your breathing to even out.

You pant, trying to sit up so that you can kiss Ona.

She makes the task easier for you, pulling you up in one swift motion.

Covering your hand in hers, you kiss her, pouring all your emotions into it.

How much you missed her, your longing for her, these past few years.

Ona responds in like, surging forward and kissing you back.

The kiss is as intimate as it is deep. It’s soft and steady, the gentle pressure of Ona’s lips on yours building a warm feeling in your middle.

‘Ona. Amor.’ (it just slips out, you don’t notice it but she does).

You lean your forehead against hers with closed eyes and she exhales weakly.

‘Oni.’ You mumble, tugging on her shirt.

She gets the hint, leaning back and pulling it off.

You put your hands on her waist, squeezing lightly as you pepper her chest with kisses.

She has new freckles from her time back in Barcelona and you want to explore all of them.

‘Baby.’ Ona’s moan is high pitched and she hurriedly reaches around to unlatch her bra.

Giggling at her enthusiasm, you knead one of her breasts in your palm.

Covering her other nipple with your mouth, you bite it very lightly, remembering how much it used to turn her on.

Your initiative is rewarded with a loud gasp from the fullback.

‘I-If you keep that up I’m going to come.’ Her voice is tight, her body practically shaking as she focuses on withholding her orgasm.

‘It’s okay. You can come whenever you need to.’ You reassure her but she shakes her head, tucking her face into your neck.

‘Don’t want this to end. I’m not ready.’ She softly admits.

‘Onita, please just let me help you come and then we’ll talk okay?’

‘Okay.’ Her voice is small but she stops hiding her face and kisses your cheek.

‘Fingers or tongue Oni?’

‘Whichever you want.’

‘Onita please.’ You murmur, intentionally using the nicknames to show your affection to her.

It works and Ona concedes, ‘Fingers…’

‘I miss the way you feel inside me.’ She shyly admits a half second later.

‘I missed it too.’ You admit, making the brunette smile and kick off her underwear and leggings.

Repositioning so that both you and Ona are more comfortable, you carefully stroke her arousal swollen bud.

‘You’re so gorgeous. Hermosa, you’ve always made me weak in my knees.’

Ona blushes furiously at your sentiment and you laugh, using your fingers to spread her open.

She cherishes it, willing herself to commit the sound to her memory because there had been long nights when she’d feared she’d never get to hear your laugh again.

She shivers in anticipation but as you begin to push your finger in, she grabs your wrist.

‘I haven’t done this in years. You’re the only one I’ve ever had sex with.’

Her brown eyes are tear filled, exposing how vulnerable she’s feeling.

You decide that if you want things to work out between the both of you, you need to be honest as well.

‘It’s the same for me Ona. I’ll go slow I promise.’

******

The first time you and Ona give yourselves to each other at eighteen, is beautiful.

It’s not the best sex you’ve ever had (the two of you improve much more over the years) but it’s the most special.

It’s slow, cautious and messy (curious as well), the both of you learning about and exploring each other’s bodies.

You didn’t think you would have another moment quite like it but the moment you and Ona find yourselves again, nearly ten years later tops it.

It’s familiar, having sex with each other but it’s made so much more intimate by the way the both of you were intent on relearning each other’s bodies.

******

She’s tense as you slide your index finger into her.

With how wet she is, you know you can easily add another but you gently thrust that one finger in and out of her until she gives you the okay to add a second.

Her eyes slip close, breathing growing stuttered as you alternate between smooth, deep strokes and rougher, shallower ones.

‘Bebé.’ She moans as her walls flutter around your fingers.

Ona makes a desperate grab for your free hand, squeezing it tightly and whimpering.

You start to curl your fingers with every thrust and Ona’s back arches with pleasure.

She doesn’t stop herself from letting you hear and see the effect you have on her, her moans of your name increasing in frequency and volume.

You don’t think she can stop herself and even if she did, you would know how much you aroused her from the copious amounts of her juices between her thighs.

When Ona finally allows herself to reach her high and spill her release, she muffles her moans with her arm.

The tears the both of you had been withholding break free and you find yourself clinging to Ona for comfort.

She doesn’t turn you away as you’d half feared she would, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close instead.

‘I’m here amor. I promise I’m always going to be here from now on.’

******

You soak in as much time as you can in Ona’s arms before you break the silence regretfully.

Lying with your head resting on Ona’s bare chest, listening to her heartbeat as her fingers comb through your hair, you hated to end the moment.

‘Ona, we should talk now.’ You whisper and she nods, extricating herself from behind you and passing you your hoodie before wearing her own.

She resettles herself opposite you, eyeing you with more than some trepidation.

‘Ona?

‘Yes?’

‘You wrote me letters on my birthday. You didn’t forget about me?’

Ona lets out a mirthless laugh, ‘How could I? You are my world. Just because I made an awful decision doesn’t mean that that changed. You are always going to be my world, even when we’re apart.’

‘Oh.’

Inhaling and exhaling as you fiddle with a loose thread on your shirt, you look back up at her and softly say, ‘I never forgot about you either. Do you want to know what I did on your birthdays?’

‘Yeah.’ Ona breathes, the revelation that you had thought about her too making her heart skip a beat.

******

All your United teammates knew not to disturb you on Ona’s birthday.

The first year Millie was the one the rest of the team sent to try and comfort you (they had all wanted to come but you had a tendency to be overwhelmed). The English woman had tried but you had shut yourself off and refused to open your door.

You had stayed inside, with the chocolate cupcake you bought from yours and Ona’s favourite cafe.

Chocolate was Ona’s favourite flavour.

Sitting on your bed, you would blow out a little candle on the cupcake at midnight, whispering a tiny broken, ‘Feliz cumpleanõs Ona.’

It became your tradition, every year your teammates would leave you alone (it wasn’t like they weren’t there for you, each and every one of them would text you a short message, just to check in. but they knew you preferred it this way. you needed to grieve and this was your way of doing it) and every year you would buy a chocolate cupcake and a candle to celebrate Ona’s birthday on your own.

******

‘You did that? Every year?’ Ona’s voice is shaky, tears forming in her eyes as she takes in this new piece of information.

‘Yeah…’

Ona buries her face in her hands and sobs quietly.

‘Lo siento. Lo siento mucho.’ She mumbles.

‘I know you are. But is that enough Ona? You didn’t come back for me for years. I stayed here all this time because some little part of me always thought you would come back. I had plans…I had plans for us. You made me feel important and then you tried to erase us. Years of loving you and even after you broke my heart, it showed! When I got my ribs fractured last year, I asked for you. In the hospital, Millie told me that the first words I said after coming out of sedation were your name and how I wanted you.’

Ona’s breath hitches and to your surprise, she nods.

‘I know. And I came.’

‘Y-you did?’

The fullback inclines her head slightly.

‘I did. Ivana called and told me what Millie had told her. Even though I was supposed to play that day, I was on a plane out immediately. I came to your hospital room.’

Shaking your head in confusion you tell her, ‘I don’t remember. I’m sure I didn’t see you Ona.’

‘I know. It was late and you were sleeping. I could not stop myself from holding your hand. You looked so small, so fragile in that bed. I stayed with you that night, never once letting go of your hand. In that awful plastic chair, I sat with you the whole night. I couldn’t sleep, I just sat and watched your chest rise and fall with every breath.’

‘Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you wake me at least?’ You desperately ask.

‘You needed your rest and I could lie and say I was scared of breaking you further while you were already broken but really I wasn’t brave enough.’

Ona swallows hard, eyes dropping to the duvet.

‘I left when the sun started to rise. I kissed you on your forehead, told you I loved you and promised I’d be back before catching the first flight back to Barcelona.’

‘Those flowers…it was you.’

You remember now, the bouquet of daisies that had no name and no card. Daisies are your favourite and you didn’t think anyone else knew it (nobody knew other than Ona and that should have really clued you in, an entire year ago).

‘Yeah…’

You don’t know what to say, simply staring at the brunette.

‘I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot for you to process.’ Ona picks at her fingernails, refusing to meet your eyes.

‘You were scared?’

You know that she knows you’re not asking about the last time she was in Manchester but rather the time before that.

Ona looks up with a tiny melancholic smile, ‘I was terrified. I’d wake up in the night just to make sure you were still in bed with me. When I slept on the couch, I would come back in to sit on the edge of the bed and watch you sleep. It was the night you were crying as you slept that I couldn’t-I just knew that I had gone too far. I was hurting you even in your sleep.’

‘I-I didn’t know. Was that the night before you left?’

‘Yes.’

You blink back tears, eyes darting all around the room in an effort to just not look at her.

Ona sighs and reaches for your hands.

‘Our love, my love for you was so big and that scared me. What scares me even more is that that love has only become bigger. It’s bigger than the whole sky.’

The tears that you had tried so hard to hold back fall then (you were getting really tired of crying).

‘But you didn’t tell me what you were feeling, what you were going through. That hurts even more than you rejecting my proposal.’

Exhaling slowly, you continue, ‘I thought that was something we had worked towards. We had discussed it multiple times over the years and we agreed that marriage was something that we both wanted. I thought we were at that point in our relationship that we were ready for the next step. Finding out that you didn’t trust me enough to talk about your issues is heartbreaking. Ona I thought we trusted each other, I don’t know when that changed for you.’

‘That’s exactly it, nothing changed. I trusted you, I trust you still. I just thought that they were my issues and I had to solve them alone.’ She admits defeatedly.

‘Ona…’ You soften and reach out for her hand.

She lets you squeeze it, sucking in a deep steadying breath.

‘I would have been happy for you to share what you were going through. I would have helped you. You have never been a burden to me Onita.’

‘I know. I really am sorry amor. I have caused you so much pain and that’s why I don’t understand why you’re treating me so well.’

‘Is that why you got so angry at me today? Because you didn’t understand?

The fullback looks ashamed of herself as she nods.

‘I saw that you took away all our photos. Every photo that I was in, you took down. I understand why you did, it showed how angry and hurt you were after the break up. You were in agony amor and yet you’re still more than nice to me.’

‘Ona. I-’

‘You don’t owe me an explanation.’

You sigh, moving and adjusting yourself so that you’re in her arms.

The brunette absentmindedly drops a kiss onto your head and you sigh again.

It’s so comforting being back with Ona, breathing in her unique scent and listening to her steady heartbeat that you begin to find your eyes slipping close.

The former Manchester United player must think you’re asleep after a while because she brushes feather light kisses onto the expanse of whatever exposed skin she can reach.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.’ She whispers as she does so.

‘Please believe me when I say I’m sorry. And that I love you.’

You press yourself closer to her (her body still fit perfectly against yours).

‘I believe you. And I love you too.’

Ona gasps softly, kissing your forehead adoringly.

In that moment, she makes a silent vow that she’s going to do whatever she can to be good enough for you.

A sleepy smile forms on your face as Ona rubs soothing circles onto your back.

That’s how you fall asleep, resting in the arms of someone who loved you, someone who wanted you enough to come back for you.

Spanish Translations:

te amo - i love you

por favor - please

sí - yes

amor - love

lo siento- i’m sorry

hermosa - beautiful

bebé - baby

feliz cumpleaños - happy birthday

lo siento mucho - i’m so sorry

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fanfictionstuff · 1 month ago

Text

Curiosity Chapter 3

Niko Ikki x Reader

Quick warning this chapter is pure smut

I’m just learning to write smut. I don’t know how I ended up with 2700+ words of smut but I did. But I don’t know if it’s good, so please let me know.

Everyone is of legal age

He remains unfazed as your fingers graze the waistband of his boxers. "Ikki?" You steal a glance at the front of his boxers before looking back at him. It's been on your mind for a while now, ever since that chat with your friends. It seems like every girl in your grade talks about it constantly. Maybe it's always been happening, and you just never noticed. Your hand pauses in the middle of his waistband, and he gives a quick nod. You gently run your fingers over the clothed bulge, surprised by its warmth. Ikki sucks in a sharp breath. "Are you okay? Is it uncomfortable?" He shakes his head quickly. "Sorry, I didn't expect it to feel like that." His face turns red as he whispers. You tilt your head, feeling confused. "Is it bad?" He lets out a huff and shoots you a glare. When you laugh, he rolls his eyes. "You can't resist making jokes even with your hand on my dick."

"Ikki—oh." You can feel it not just hardening through his boxers but also growing. Your gaze returns to his lap as your fingers gently trace along him.

"Can I..." You tentatively reach for the waistband of his boxers, unsure of how he feels about this. You didn't explicitly discuss what you meant when you asked to touch him. You don't want to make him feel uncomfortable or cross any boundaries. "Yeah, okay," he responds with a nod, understanding your hesitation.

With a deep breath, Ikki exhales shakily as your hand slips under the waistband of his boxers. He looks down at you intently, observing your every move. He can feel anxiety creeping in when you don't say anything - what if you think it's disgusting?

"Is this okay?" You ask softly, still unsure if he's comfortable with this. You don't want to push him too far.

Ikki nods, his cheeks flushed. "Yeah, it feels good." He admits, his voice slightly strained.

"You're bigger than I had imagined," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers curl around him. A hint of awe laces your tone. "Y-you imagined it?" comes his surprised response, eyes widening in disbelief.

Ikki's eyes flutter closed as you continue to explore him with your hand. He's never been touched like this before, and it's sending shivers down his spine. He can feel himself getting harder.

"Yeah. When my friends brought it up, you were the first person who came to mind. So…" I've been picturing you the entire time. It's explicit yet unspoken. His skin feels incredibly soft in your grip, "I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it's even better than anything I could have imagined." You whisper as your thumb glides along his tip. Ikki groans softly, resting his head on your shoulder and breathing heavily against your neck. "Is this more sensitive?" you ask, gliding your thumb over it again. A little precum oozes out the more you touch him.

You not only wanted to touch him but also to see him. "Ikki," you say, tugging at his boxers as a subtle hint for him to remove them. He complies by raising his hips and pulling them off, revealing a decently sized and well-proportioned penis that is a pleasant shade of pink. It's nothing like the massive and intimidating ones you've seen in online videos. "It even looks better than I imagined it would," you comment, giving it a gentle squeeze. The ones you've seen online were so gross-looking. "And it's so soft and warm." Ikki groans in response to your casual words, clearly enjoying your touch just as much as you are enjoying touching him. "Ikki, what do I do? I don't want to hurt you," you question, a hint of concern creeping into your voice.

Ikki opens his eyes and looks at you tenderly. "You won't hurt me," he reassures you, placing his hand over yours once again. He guides you at the right pace

and pressure, showing you how to pleasure him.

After a moment, he releases your hand and lets you continue on your own. Yet, to his displeasure, you pause, merely gripping the top and brushing your thumb over the tip. Although he wants to voice a complaint, he refrains. He knows he has no right to dictate your actions; you're simply exploring out of curiosity.

"Ikki?"

"Yes?"

"Can I use my mouth?"

His head snaps away from your shoulder as if jolted back to reality. "What?" he asks, surprise evident in his voice. You let out a nervous laugh, "I guess that's a no?" feeling embarrassment wash over you. Crap, did I cross the line? But you're so curious, and the desire to explore your best friend's body is a tempting thought that lingers in your mind. It was probably a weird thing to even ask. _____, you idiot.

His answer comes out in a whisper. "Are you sure?"

The words snap you out of your self-scolding, and you nod, tugging at his shirt. "Yes, I'm sure. If it's okay." Taking the hint, he removes the shirt. "Lay back." You push him against the bed, running your hands along his chest. With him lying comfortably on his back, you turn your focus back to pleasing him. Lowering your head, you bring your tongue out to press it flat against the head of his cock.

"Huh." You stare inquisitively. Honestly, you were a bit nervous it would taste disgusting.

“…_____?” He positions himself on his elbows, staring at you cautiously.

"Ikki, it doesn't taste bad."

With a groan, he drops back to the bed. "You can't just say that!"

"Well, it doesn't." You huff.

As he tries to answer, you press your tongue against the head again. Any words he was about to say turned into a low moan instead.

Deciding to stop teasing your best friend, you focus back on the task at hand, leaning down to slide your tongue along the smooth length of his shaft, savoring the salty taste of him that fills your senses. With gentle pressure, you take the tip into your mouth and suck softly, using your hand to caress and massage his balls. The feeling of him in your mouth is intoxicating as you carefully lower your head, ensuring not to graze him with your teeth as you continue to pleasure him. Your hand works in tandem with your mouth, exploring every inch of him that can't fit comfortably between your lips.

A low growl escapes his lips as he grasps a handful of your hair, urging you on. You moan at the sensation but notice that he is in control enough not to pull too hard and cause pain. His body tenses beneath you, and you can feel him twitching as he nears climax. With a gasp, he calls out for you to stop, "___, ___, stop," his voice strained with pleasure. He pulls your hair gently to guide you away and sits up quickly, reaching for a tissue on his left. A deep sigh escapes his lips as he releases into the tissue, leaving you both gasping for air.

"Is that why you keep tissues by the bed." you tease as he throws away the tissue and pulls on his boxers. "What? No! I keep tissues by the bed because someone usually needs one for their nose just before they drift off to sleep."

You shrug. "So, that was fun."

He sighs, shaking his head at your ridiculousness before resting his head on your shoulder. "_____?”

"Yeah?"

His hand slips under your shirt, sliding it along your thigh until he reaches the waistband of your underwear. "Can I?" he repeats your earlier question. "You don't have to; I wasn't expecting it." You shrug casually, pretending it doesn't matter. Although you might have hoped for his interest, you want to clarify he isn't obligated. "Stop it," he cautions as he shifts over you. "I didn't say, 'Do I have to?' I said, 'Can I?' which means I want to go down on you—so, can I?"

Your face burns at his blunt words. "Ikki! What happened to my cute best friend?"

"I have to be the blunt best friend when you skirt around answering me." He huffs, pinching your waist.

"Are you really sure?" You've listened to friends discuss it, hearing many guys prefer receiving over giving. He smiles at you. "You're interested in my body; why wouldn't I be interested in yours?"

"Are you sure?"

Though you can't see it, you know it's rolling his eyes. "Yes, can I take this off?" He tugs at your shirt. "Oh right, yeah. I'll do it." You sit up and pull the shirt over your head, instinctively covering your breasts with your arms once it's off. His face burns red as he waits calmly for you. "Are you okay?" He whispers, gently running his fingers on your hips. You nod, dropping your arms. "Yes, I'm okay." He opens his mouth, like he wants to say something, but quickly snaps it shut and turns to stare across the room. You're confused. "Wait, what's wrong?" You glance down at your chest, "Is it really that bad?" you ask. "Bad?" He turns to meet your gaze. "Yeah, because you looked away and…." You shrug, reaching for your shirt, pretending his reaction doesn't sting a little. He snatches the shirt first, tossing it to the end of the bed. "Your body isn't bad; it'll never be." He wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. "I don't know, Ikki; I feel like it'll get bad at some point." You lightly joke but feel Ikki shaking his head. "Never." After another gentle kiss on your head, he lightly nudges you back, gazing at your figure. "Your body is beautiful _____," he murmurs, gently pushing you back to lay on the bed.

His touch is gentle as he caresses your breast, but his hands don't linger there. They continue their journey downwards until they reach the waistband of your underwear. He tilts his head slightly to the left, allowing his hair to fall in front of his eyes. "Can I?" He asks, his fingers already slipping under the waistband. With your consent, he pulls them off and throws them aside; you're not even sure where they landed on the bed. Adjusting his position, Ikki spreads your legs wider for better access. The same curiosity that once consumed you now seems to consume him as he gently pulls your lower lips apart with his thumbs. You can't help but gasp at the sensation; even this small touch feels amazing. Before focusing on your lower body, Ikki looks up at you, ensuring you're still okay. His finger traces along your entrance, but then something else catches his attention - something he knows will bring you even more pleasure.

Ikki's finger trails down to your clit, gently swirling in small circles as your hips instinctively arch toward him. A smug grin spreads across his face as he enjoys your reactions to his touch. His thumb continues to brush against your swollen bundle of nerves while his index finger timidly explores your entrance. The heat between your legs intensifies as he slowly slips his finger inside of you, feeling the slickness and tightness of your walls. He teases you with short, shallow thrusts, eliciting soft moans from your lips. Pulling away, he rests his head on your knee and admires you before bringing his fingers to his lips. With a flick of his tongue, he savors the taste of you and smiles. "You taste even better than I imagined," he says grinning at you.

"Oh, shut up, we both know you didn't." You huff at his teasing of your previous words.

He shrugs, "You'd be surprised what I've imagined." he drops his head so his hair obscuring his eyes from your view. But then you feel something else, something warm and slick, pressing against your slit and sliding upwards until it reaches your clit. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth as a surprised moan escapes, the sound muffled by your palm. You hadn't anticipated the intense pleasure that washes over you as he flicks his tongue against your sensitive nub. The sensation causes your whole body to shudder, with your legs trembling slightly on either side of his head.

As he takes your clit into his warm mouth, a loud moan escapes from your lips. Your head falls back against the pillow as he sucks and creates a new, incredible sensation. "Ikki." You whine as your legs instinctively wrap around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you. You can feel his own moans vibrate against you in response. He then inserts one or two fingers inside you, but your mind is too consumed by pleasure even to register how many. Your hips lift off the bed as you reach down and grab a handful of his hair, eliciting another moan from him that you make a note of for future teasing. With your knees locked tightly around his head, you pull him even closer, almost grinding against his mouth in ecstasy.

As Ikki curls his fingers inside of you, the pressure builds, and you are pushed over the edge. You find yourself tugging on his hair, unable to control your reactions as both of you moan in pleasure. Your body begins to tremble uncontrollably as Ikki applies more pressure with his fingers, hitting just the right spot that has you seeing stars.

And then it happens. The wave crashes over you, sending you into a state of pure bliss. You cry out his name as your body spasms with pleasure, your hips bucking against his face as he continues to work through your orgasm; as the last wave of pleasure subsides, Ikki works on using his tongue to clean you up, causing you to whine and protest weakly: "Ikki, stop." You push his head away to avoid over-stimulation.

He lifts his head to stare into your eyes, licking the remnants of your orgasm still on his lips. "You really taste amazing."

Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and you feel like your heart might beat out of your chest. You push him away gently, trying to create some space between you. "You weirdo."

But Ikki remains close, only shifting slightly to rest on your stomach. "Ikki, are you alright?" You comb your fingers through his hair as you wait for a response. "Yes," he nods before burrowing back into your abdomen.

Once you've relaxed and regained your breath, you gently pull on Ikki's hair again. "Ikki, time to get up. I need to shower." He groans in reluctance but gets up. "You should clean up too," you say as you reach for your underwear, which was thrown just on the edge of the bed, along with your sleep shirt.

"I'll let you go first," he says, lying back on the bed. You nod and stand up, walking towards the shower across the hall from his room. Your legs feel a bit unsteady, but you manage to maintain your balance before Ikki notices. Glancing back, you see him covering his eyes with one arm as he lies on the bed.

You quickly hop into the shower without waiting for the water to adjust. It's a bit hotter than usual, but you don't mind as you lather up with your loofa. After rinsing off, you dry off and wrap yourself in a towel before returning to Ikki's room, realizing you forgot a change of clothes. Ikki watches your entrance with observant eyes but makes no remarks about your lack of attire. He simply gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom to take his own shower.

When he returns, he's in a clean T-shirt and boxers. "Ikki?" His damp hair makes his bright teal eyes stand out even more.

"Yes?"

"You're totally into having your hair pulled." You tease.

He huffs, rolling his eyes. "If you say so."

As he sits beside you on the bed, everything feels normal again. Just two best friends hanging out, getting ready for bed. As you settle in the bed, covering yourselves with his blankets, Ikki calls your name. "So, did that satisfy your curiosity?" He questions carefully.

"Well…"

#niko ikki x reader #ikki niko #niko ikki #ikki niko x reader #niko #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x reader #blue lock

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