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sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth · 26 days ago

Text

Way up high

(Dean Winchester x female reader)

Summary You, Sam and Dean are on a cross-country flight and Dean is freaking out. Luckily, you think of a way to distract him. CW Fear of flying. Lavatory sex. Dean and you being cute idiots. 18+. 2.8k words A/N I spent a lot of time at airports this week, so naturally I wrote some plane smut.

My Dean Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

Dean's more tense than you've ever seen him before, and that's saying something.

He's always tense, in a way. The man acts like he expects a fist to come at him any minute of every day. He gets mad and frustrated by a lot of things easily. But you've never seen him like this.

He's in the middle seat, which you're pretty sure isn't helping, but when you offered to swap your aisle seat, he refused. Well, he made a noise that sounded like a "no". He was already white-knuckling the arm rests, even though boarding wasn't even done.

Sam's on the other aisle seat next to yours, one long leg stretched out. He keeps throwing slightly amused looks past you at his brother. He's seen this before, but you haven't.

"It's gonna be okay," you say, gently rubbing Dean's arm. He's a little pale and he hasn't moved since takeoff, but you're pretty sure he's breathing. "Statistically--"

Dean closes his eyes and groans. You look at his face, wait for him to say something.

"It's just not natural," he presses out. You purse your lips.

"Maybe it's supernatural," you say, aiming for funny but Dean turns his head slightly to you, wide-eyed.

"How can you be makin' jokes when we're about to die?"

You can't help it. You take his fear seriously, you really do. But this is just too goddamn adorable. So you lay your head down on his shoulder, which is wildly uncomfortable in the confines of the plane.

"At least we'll die together," you say, trying a different approach, but it only makes Dean groan again. He does press his nose against the top of your head though, takes a deep breath, just a little bit less panicked.

"Did you change your shampoo?" he asks, voice a little croaky. You nod. "Nice. Fruity."

You raise your head, look at his face, so close to yours. His eyes are so wide right now, allowing you the perfect view of his breathtaking irises. You can't help that your gaze drops to his lips, all plush and sexy and life-boat-y there.

"Changed my body wash too," you say, voice low. "Wouldn't believe what I smell like in other places."

Dean's eyebrows go up and you see his throat move when he swallows. You don't expect the quick pressure your own words and his look sends through you.

You look around. Your jacket's over your lap against the plane interior's cool air, so you lean forward, hoping to obstruct Sam's view - if he's even watching, last you saw he had headphones on and seemed to be sleeping. Lay the jacket over Dean's lap with your hand under it.

"What are you--?" he asks, like he doesn't know exactly what you're planning. But you don't let his pretend shock deter you.

"Just something I read about," you whisper. "Supposed to help with anxiety."

Dean's eyes go even wider, if such a thing is possible. He looks around too, but there's no one in the window seat and nothing behind you seems to alert him, so he looks back at you, lays his hand over yours where you're slowly running it over the crotch of his jeans.

It's only a minute until his lips part and he slightly readjusts how he's sitting, looks around again, then closes his eyes briefly before looking at you again.

"Have I told you recently that you're the perfect woman?" he asks. You grin.

"You have," you reply. "But it wouldn't hurt to hear it again."

Dean's hand wanders up your arm, over your shoulder and then he's cupping your neck.

"You're the perfect wom–" he says and interrupts himself when you squeeze him as you bite your lip with a grin.

"I know," you say.

Just then, a flight attendant walks past. You stop your moving, then slowly pull your hand back. Dean opens his mouth, probably to complain, but you're already leaning in.

"Meet me in the lavatory," you whisper and Dean makes what you can only describe as a quick impression of a fish caught on land. "Follow me in two minutes."

Without so much as a look back - not necessary, because you know your boyfriend and are absolutely sure he will not pass up this chance, even if he's sure imminent death is certain - you stand, shuffle out of your seat and then down the aisle.

The lavatory is free, so you slip in, lock the door. You turn, look around. It's not a luxury suite, that's for sure, but you just won't think about it too closely. You turn to the sink, pump some soap into your hands and wash them, just for the feeling of it, since you're about to get them all dirty again.

The knock comes quickly, a sharp volley of three, then one a second later and another one a second after that. You grin as you turn. Dean and you don't have a secret knock, but who else would it be? Plus the urgency is very Dean.

You open the door with a loud click and it is Dean, and not some aircraft personnel with a sour expression cause they read your dirty, filthy mind. You grab him by the collar and pull him in with one hand, close the door and lock it again with the other.

You kiss him immediately, part giddiness, part the hope that you will be quiet this way. Dean runs his hands over your side, pulls you in. Not by much, since the small room already pushes you so close. This is gonna be a logistical challenge.

"How are those nerves?" you mumble against his lips and you feel him grin.

"Gettin' better," he replies. "But I feel like there's still room for improvement."

You let one hand wander down his front while you hold his gaze, find the growing bulge at the front of his jeans, gently squeeze him.

"Let's see what we can do about that," you reply in your best sultry voice. The broad, happy grin on your lover's face is its own reward. Dean kisses you again, more passionate this time, one hand wandering down to your ass, squeezing you in return.

A second later, Dean's hands continue exploring, convening at the fly of your jeans. You grin, blink your eyes open.

"Should probably get you ready," Dean mumbles, sounding bashful, and then he busies his fingers before he begins pushing against the waistband of your underwear.

"Babe," you say and he stops, looks at your face. You grimace. "Airport fingers."

Dean chuckles and instead pushes his hand down your pants, outside of your underwear. Strong fingertips pressing against you and you close your eyes, hum.

"Appreciate it," you say and Dean chuckles again, begins moving his hand in warm little circles.

"Want her to stay healthy, don't we?" he drawls, and you part your lips, wrap your arms around his neck.

"Goddamn Winchester," you mutter. "Am I hearing you payed attention in sex ed?"

In response, Dean tilts his head down, presses his opened mouth against your cheek as he quickens his movement.

"Learned a couple of tricks," he mumbles. He can't enter you due to the extra layer of clothing, but he still presses his fingers against your opening, lets you feel the pressure there, his presence. One of your hands goes to the back of his neck as you pull his face harder against you, grinding to meet him.

"We should hurry," you mumble, even though Dean's touches send pleasurable shivers through you, even though you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

"Hmm," Dean replies, clearly not having heard you. You giggle, then move your hands to his chest, press against him.

Dean pulls his head back, his movement stopping. You shuffle to the side and he follows and then you let your hands drop, open his jeans as quickly as you can, eager now to get to what's underneath.

"Hey," Dean says, just as you're reaching in to find his cock. "Airport hands." You grin up at him.

"Washed 'em," you reply and Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Perfect–" he starts, but the “woman” dies on his lips as you wrap your fingers around him.

You begin stroking him immediately, eager to get this show on the road. Dean's hands go out to the side, pressing against the walls as he tips his head back and moans.

"Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans. "Oh, goddamn." You grin and then, while you keep stroking him, you begin also pushing him backwards until he's standing in front of the toilet.

Dean just has the wherewithal to tug down his jeans and underwear further and then you're letting go of him as he plops down. The seat is probably cold and you can't imagine it's very comfortable, but Dean doesn't seem to care.

His hands go to your hips, gripping at the fabric of your own pants, pulling down. You wish you were wearing a dress, but the jeans are luckily loose, so you shove them enough until they drop down. You try to drag one foot out of the leg but it gets tangled on your shoe with the leg turned inside out, but you also don't care, because you have just enough room to straddle Dean, albeit a little ungainly.

He wraps his arms around you, one of your arms shooting around his shoulders, the hand of the other between your bodies as you rip the seat of your panties to the side. You shift around again, lifting yourself a little and then Dean is entering you.

His hands on you become fists, digging into you where he's holding you and your mouth drops open at the perfect intrusion. Dean's face is pressed in just under your ear, and he's breathing hard.

And then the second you come flush with Dean, there's a knock at the door.

"You gonna be long in there?" someone calls from the other side. The part of your brain that is supposed to do the talking and thinking thing isn't where you left it, but you mumble and then raise your voice.

"Sorry!" you call out, voice shaky and thus hopefully helping your alibi. "Gonna be a while, had some bad ch-chil-ah."

The last part is half a moan because Dean's grabbed your ass cheeks, pushed you down against him. You pull him close, being your mouth to his ear.

"Fucker," you mutter, but you're already using your hold on Dean to repeat the motion. You can't really push yourself up with your tangled legs so well, so you resolve yourself to rutting down against him, while Dean keeps using his purchase on your ass to help.

You're not sure how much the minimal movement is doing for Dean, but it's doing everything for you. The small, localized stimulation is perfect. You don't know if there's still someone waiting on the other side of the door, but you decide to bury your face against Dean's neck to hide the involuntary sounds you're making just in case.

"Oh fuck, darlin'," Dean groans into your ear, and it's like fingertips traveling down your spine. "Always wanted to do this and you're, fuck, so fucking perfect."

In response you raise your head just a little, get his earlobe between your teeth and briefly pull, which makes a deep sound emit from Dean's throat.

"Turbulences aren't so bad with a nice girl on your cock, huh?" you whisper into his ear with a grin. Dean's movement stutters for a moment, then picks up faster than before, as you drive yourself harder against him too. He pulls his head back, looks at your lips, then onto your eyes.

"Nothin' nice about you, baby," he says with a grin. You raise your chin, change the rhythm of your grinding and Dean's eyes fall shut.

"Might be right," you reply, one hand going down between your bodies.

You bite your lip when your fingertips brush your clit and you begin drawing quick and precise circles. Dean looks down, then wraps his arms tighter around your legs, lifting you up only a few inches and letting you drop down on him again, which in turn makes you gasp.

"Go faster," he says and you grin and do what he says.

It doesn't take long for tight, hot pressure to build inside of you. The way you ride Dean along with the stimulation to your clit are a sure fire way to get you there. You lean down again, kiss Dean, and he raises one hand to the back of your neck, pulling you onto a kiss so hard it's sure to bruise.

It's a good thing too. As your thighs begin shaking, your lips part, desperate noises leaving you, noises you can't control but then Dean pushes his tongue into your mouth and as you come, stars exploding behind your fluttering eyelids, you suck on it, desperately, your cries quieted.

Your head slumps onto Dean's shoulder and he wraps you up in his arms. To chase his own end, Dean holds you close, ruts up into you as quickly and shallowly as he can. You do your best to help, but your body feels like rubber. Dean pushes his face back against your neck.

"Shit, yes, that's it," he grunts as his body stiffens, his hips giving a few last, desperate thrusts and then he stills.

You feel nearly dumb and you want nothing more than to stay exactly where you are, or alternatively keep riding Dean to chase the next high immediately. But you also know that's not an option. Even if your colorful explanation for taking longer worked its magic, someone's gonna want in here sooner or later.

You sit up, and Dean's face comes into view, making you grin. His eyes are closed and he looks absolutely content. He even smacks his lips once.

What an absolute dork. You love him with all your heart.

"I don't know if I can get up without breaking my neck," you say and Dean looks down, then around, like the answer to your predicament must be lying somewhere on the floor.

But then he reaches down, manages to grab the inside-out leg of your jeans, helps roll it a little way up your leg. His softening cock is still inside you, and you squeeze him once, making him flinch and give you an unbelieving look.

"Consider it a thank you card," you say and Dean huffs, just as you push yourself to a standing position, your hands on his shoulders, his dick, sadly, dropping out of you.

"Some way to say thank you," he mumbles as you drag a few paper towels from the dispenser, pass some to him before you quickly begin cleaning yourself. "Just gonna get me started again." You purse your lips.

"That a promise?" you say and Dean throws you a warning look.

The two of you do the quickest of clean up jobs. You're still gonna need a shower when you get to the motel, but that's a problem for then.

Shockingly, there is no one in front of the lavatory. You can't believe your luck. Dean and you slink back to your seats, him ahead of you, acting casual, not making eye contact with anyone.

Dean drops into his seat and you see that Sam has taken his headphones off, looks up when he sees his brother.

"Hey," he says with a small frown, "where's--?" You drop down the next second, and Sam's expression changes from one of confusion to one of bewilderment.

"You two cannot be serious," he hisses, but Dean just raises his arm, wraps it around your shoulder, something that might be a proud expression on his face.

"Chill out, Sammy," he says. "Have some peanuts."

Sam's eyes slowly widen in indignation and then he grabs his headphones, shoves them over his head, crosses his arms and stares straight ahead. Meanwhile, Dean is chuckling next to you. You turn to him.

"I think custom dictates," you say, "that entry into the mile high club must be celebrated with Bloody Marys." Dean raises his eyebrows, a smile spreading on his face.

"That a fact?" he asks and you nod. You start turning your head to look up and down the aisle, see if you can get someone's attention, but Dean's hand goes up, grabs your chin and he turns you back to him.

"I love you, you know that, right?" he says. "And thank you." You frown.

"For what?" you ask. "That was totally just to scratch my itch."

“Yeah, right,” he says and you push your elbow into his side with a grin before raising your hand as you see a flight attendant walk towards you for celebratory drinks.

Dean's still afraid of flying - you know you couldn't take that from him. But at least he had something else nice to think about now.

#supernatural #spn #fanfic #dean winchester #fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #sorry's fics

418 notes · View notes

joaosnovia · 20 days ago

Note

hmmm so i lowk want sleepy franco, bc i had a dream abt him last night no joke. let's see. okay. we're on a plane, his like travel director guy? idk what he's called, but he books the wrong ticket so franco has to sit in economy class (horror) and he's all grumpy and tired and his curls are peeking thru his hoodie (HEHE) idk if you wanna make us a fan of him or not, i truly don't care ill read it anyway, and then drumroll please, TURBULENCE, and we hold hands and end up talking and then fall in love mwah

❦ - ‘la concha de mi madre’.

warnings:: cussing.

writers notes:: IM SORRY IF YOU SPEAK SPANISH AND UNDERSTAND THE TITLE 🥀. if you get the reference then you get it but if u don’t then it’s bc he said it on team radio 😔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @cherryloveshs ; lmk if u wanna be added

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’re already exhausted when you get to the gate. the kind of tired that settles behind your eyes and makes everything feel just a little bit blurry. it’s a late flight, barely-full, and you’re silently thanking the universe for that as you scan your boarding pass.

economy. window seat. quiet.

until he walks in.

it’s subtle at first. just a little wave of tension that passes through the gate area like a ripple, the way it always does when someone vaguely famous walks into a space not meant for them. people don’t scream or swarm, but you hear the hushed whispers, the occasional, poorly-hidden phone snap. and then you see him.

franco.

hood up. head down. dragging a carry-on with one hand and a coffee in the other like it might be the only thing keeping him awake.

he looks like he was just pulled out of sleep and shoved into an airport. grey hoodie. black joggers. a duffel slung lazily over one shoulder. and his curls, god, his curls, are peeking out from under the fabric like they’re trying to escape. messy and soft and unfairly pretty.

you try not to stare.

he looks grumpy. not mean, not rude, just tired in the way only someone who was promised comfort but got chaos instead can be. he stops by the flight attendant, glances down at his phone, then mutters something in spanish you don’t catch but feel in your soul. it’s giving: ‘how did i end up here?’

you turn back to your book, pretending you’re not watching him weave down the aisle, scanning seat numbers, getting closer and closer until

he stops. right beside you.

your row.

he double checks his pass. stares at the seat. stares at you. then groans, barely audible, and sinks down into the seat next to yours like it personally offended him.

‘la concha de mi madre… wasn’t supposed to be here,’ he mumbles, more to himself than you.

you don’t say anything at first. you just glance sideways, taking in the way his knees hit the seat in front of him. he’s clearly too tall for this. he exhales sharply through his nose and tilts his head back, letting it thud softly against the wall.

‘rough night?’ you ask gently.

he peeks one eye open.

‘travel guy booked the wrong class. s’posed to be business.’ he sounds like he’s explaining a grave injustice. and honestly, to him, maybe it is.

you bite back a laugh. ‘and now you’re slumming it with the rest of us.’

he looks at you properly now. eyes sharp despite how sleepy he is. ‘you make it sound like i’m gonna die in here.’

‘you might,’ you tease. ‘depends how dramatic you get.’

he cracks a smile, small, sleepy, but real, and pulls his hoodie tighter around him. then it’s quiet again. the kind of quiet that fills a plane before takeoff: muted announcements, seatbelt clicks, the soft shuffle of passengers settling in.

you go back to your book. or try to. it’s hard to focus when an f1 driver is breathing softly beside you, head tilted toward the window, lashes brushing his cheekbones, hands folded loosely over his stomach.

he looks peaceful like that. tired, yes, but soft in a way you didn’t expect. like he’s finally stopped fighting the chaos and just let himself be still.

you’re almost asleep yourself when it happens.

the plane jerks. a sudden lurch. not violent, but sharp enough to pull you from the edge of sleep and snap your heart into alert.

your hand flinches toward the armrest, gripping it tight.

and then another bump, this one stronger. someone across the aisle lets out a small yelp.

your stomach twists.

and then

warm fingers slip over yours.

it’s so casual, so easy, like he’s done this before. his hand is big, firm, grounding. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even open his eyes, but the pressure of his palm against yours is enough to slow your breath just a little.

‘just turbulence,’ he murmurs, voice low, raspy with sleep. ‘happens all the time.’

you don’t know why you believe him. maybe because he sounds so calm. maybe because your hand fits stupidly well in his. or maybe because, deep down, part of you likes that this stranger, this famous, hoodie-wearing, grumpy stranger, is the one keeping you steady.

when the turbulence fades, you think he’ll pull away.

he doesn’t.

you glance over. his eyes are open now, just barely, looking at your joined hands with an unreadable expression.

‘you don’t have to keep holding it,’ you say quietly.

he shrugs, thumb brushing against your skin. ‘you looked scared.’

you don’t answer. just look away, heart thudding a little too loud in your chest.

after a beat, he shifts in his seat, turning slightly toward you.

‘i’m franco, by the way.’

you blink. not because you didn’t know. but because it feels strange, intimate, for him to offer it like that.

‘y/n,’ you say back, voice softer than before.

he nods once. ‘pretty name.’

you smile, small and a little shy. and for the first time, you notice how close you are. how your knees almost touch. how your fingers are still tangled like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

somewhere over the clouds, in a cramped economy seat beside a boy who was never supposed to be here, something starts.

it’s quiet. unexpected. but it’s there.

and neither of you let go.

you land just after sunrise.

the light filters through the little oval window in soft streaks of gold and peach, brushing over franco’s curls as he stretches beside you with a sleepy groan. his hoodie’s slipped a little down his shoulder, revealing a white t-shirt and a glimpse of collarbone, and you don’t mean to stare, but also, maybe you do.

‘how’d you sleep?’ he asks, voice gravelly and barely awake.

you smile. ‘not much.’

‘same.’

you both sit there for a second, still tangled in the strange bubble that formed somewhere midair. he shifts, glancing down at your hands, still close, not quite touching anymore, but close enough to feel the leftover warmth. his fingers twitch like maybe he wants to reach back.

you beat him to it, brushing your pinky against his.

he looks over, and he’s smiling.

‘you hungry?’ he asks, suddenly casual. like you didn’t just hold hands for three hours in silence. like you didn’t fall asleep with your shoulder brushing his in the middle of the sky.

you blink. ‘what?’

he rubs the back of his neck, curls wild now, sticking out in soft little tufts. ‘there’s this café i always go to when i fly through here. their croissants are insane. i can… show you?’

your heart does something stupid.

‘yeah,’ you say, voice softer than you mean it to be. ‘sure. croissants sound good.’

you gather your things. he waits for you. and as you walk off the plane, into the cool, early morning quiet of the airport, something about it feels like a movie. the way your suitcases roll in sync. the way his hoodie sleeve brushes your arm every few steps. the way people glance over, eyes widening slightly, not because of you, but because of him.

he doesn’t seem to notice. or care. he’s too busy walking beside you like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

‘so,’ you say, just to fill the silence, ‘did your travel guy get fired yet?’

he snorts. ‘he’s on very thin ice.’

you laugh, and he grins, bright and sleepy and a little crooked.

the café is tucked in a quiet corner of the terminal. tiny tables. warm lights. the smell of espresso thick in the air.

he orders two croissants and two coffees like he’s done it a hundred times before.

‘you bring all your turbulence buddies here?’ you tease as you settle into a table by the window.

he smirks. ‘nah. just the brave ones who hold my hand mid-air.’

you roll your eyes, but your cheeks are warm.

the coffee is good. the croissant is better. and the company, well, that’s the best part.

you talk. about little things. stupid things. favorite movies. airport horror stories. he tells you about the time his luggage got sent to a completely different continent. you tell him about the time you missed a flight because you fell asleep at the gate. he laughs, really laughs, and you catch yourself watching the way his face lights up, the way his eyes crinkle, the soft edges of his tired smile.

you’re both halfway through your second coffee when his phone buzzes. he glances at it, then groans.

‘my ride’s here.’

you nod, trying not to look disappointed.

he stands slowly, stretching again, hoodie riding up just a little, and then looks at you like he’s not quite sure what to do.

you break the silence first.

‘it was nice flying with you.’

he huffs a laugh. ‘yeah. it was.’

you expect him to walk away. just wave, say bye, disappear into the crowd.

instead, he hesitates. looks at you like he’s debating something.

then

‘can i see you again?’

you blink. ‘what?’

he runs a hand through his curls. ‘i mean… if you want. i know it was just a weird flight and some turbulence and coffee, but…’ he shrugs, like he can’t quite explain it. ‘i liked this. i liked you.’

your heart stumbles.

‘yeah,’ you say, quiet but sure. ‘i’d like that too.’

he grins. pulls out his phone. you exchange numbers, fingers brushing as he hands it back.

‘don’t ghost me,’ he says, teasing.

you smirk. ‘only if your travel guy doesn’t mess it up again.’

he laughs again, starts to walk backward toward the exit, still facing you.

‘see you soon, turbulence girl.’

and then he’s gone.

but your phone buzzes thirty seconds later.

franco: next time i’m booking us both business class. just saying.

you grin.

yeah. you’ll see him again.

it starts with texts.

a few here and there. late at night. early morning. sleepy updates and little inside jokes. a photo of his breakfast one day. a screenshot of your playlist the next. nothing dramatic. nothing loud.

just a slow, easy kind of beginning.

and then one day, he sends you a message that says:

‘are you free this friday? i owe you dinner. and business class. but we’ll start with dinner.’

you say yes.

and that’s how you end up outside a small restaurant tucked between quiet streets, heart thudding in your chest as you spot him leaning against the wall, hoodie up, curls peeking out just like that first night.

but this time, he looks up and smiles as soon as he sees you.

‘you came,’ he says, stepping forward, pulling the hood down.

‘you asked,’ you reply.

he holds the door open for you, and it’s something about the way he looks at you, like he’s been waiting to see you again since the second you left, that makes your stomach do something ridiculous.

the restaurant is small. warm. dim lighting and quiet music. you sit across from him, nervous at first, picking at the edge of your napkin.

but he’s soft. all soft.

asking how your week was. telling you how training’s been. joking about how he’s still haunted by the flight. and you both laugh, really laugh, like it’s been forever since something felt this easy.

somewhere between dinner and dessert, the conversation shifts.

you’re talking about the places you want to visit. the little corners of the world that live on your bucket list. he’s leaning in, chin resting in his hand, eyes never leaving you.

‘so what you’re saying,’ he murmurs, ‘is that you’d need a travel buddy.’

you raise a brow. ‘you offering?’

he smiles slow. ‘i already know how you handle turbulence.’

you toss a sugar packet at him. he catches it.

and when the night ends, and you’re outside again in the cool air, he walks you to your car without saying much.

just before you open the door, he stops.

‘can i—’ he rubs the back of his neck, like he’s nervous now. ‘i wanna see you again.’

you tilt your head. ‘another flight?’

he chuckles. ‘hopefully without economy class.’

you step closer. your hands graze.

‘i’d like that,’ you say.

and this time, this time when he leans in, it’s not your hands that touch first. it’s his forehead resting lightly against yours. soft, sweet. the kind of almost-kiss that says everything without rushing it.

his voice is barely a whisper.

‘goodnight, y/n.’

and you smile, feeling weightless.

‘goodnight, franco.’

you fall asleep on facetime the first time it happens.

you’re both in bed, screens glowing in the dark, him in a hoodie again, hood up, hair a little messy from running his hand through it too much. you’re curled beneath a blanket, barely lit by your lamp, yawning as he tells you something dumb one of his teammates said in the locker room.

you’re not sure when you drift off, only that when you open your eyes again, the call is still going.

his camera is angled up now, like he fell asleep too. his face half-buried in a pillow, breathing slow. the little rectangle on your screen shows the soft rise and fall of his chest, a peek of his collarbone, the edge of his hoodie slipping down one shoulder.

you watch him for a moment.

just… watch.

something tugs at your heart. soft and sure.

you end the call before your screen dies, and sleep comes easier after that.

the next morning, he texts you:

‘slept better than i have in weeks. you?’

you type:

‘same. weird.’

he sends a photo. his pillow, a bit messy. the corner of his hoodie in the frame.

‘blaming you. don’t leave next time.’

and you want to tell him you won’t. that you’ll stay on the line until the sun rises if that’s what he wants. but you just reply:

‘no promises.’

he calls you that night too.

and the one after that.

the first kiss comes later.

not during a date. not at dinner. not even with music or city lights or anything remotely romantic.

it’s raining.

you weren’t supposed to see him. just dropped by his place to return something, a hoodie you stole without realizing. but he opens the door and grins like he hasn’t seen you in weeks instead of days.

‘you’re wet,’ he says, brushing a hand over your shoulder.

‘yeah, well, the weather’s rude.’

you’re about to hand him the hoodie when he steps back and says, ‘come in. or you’ll catch something.’

and you do.

you sit on the edge of his couch, water dripping from your sleeves. he disappears for a second, returns with a towel and a mug of something warm. tea. maybe. you’re not sure. you’re too busy watching the way his lashes stick together from the rain. the way his hoodie is half-zipped, revealing the curve of his throat.

he crouches in front of you, drying your hands first.

‘you didn’t have to,’ you murmur.

he shrugs. but his hands linger.

‘you’re kind of important,’ he says, soft. like it’s not a big deal.

you look at him. really look.

his curls are damp. his eyes are tired but bright. his thumb is brushing along the back of your hand like he doesn’t want to stop touching you.

and you lean in first.

not much. just a little. but enough.

his breath catches, and he moves with you. quiet. slow. no rush.

his lips find yours like they’ve been waiting.

just the softest pressure. the rain still pattering outside. his hand resting against your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek like you might disappear if he doesn’t hold you right.

when you pull back, he stays close.

forehead to yours.

‘finally,’ he whispers.

and you smile.

epilogue::

he’s already seated when you get there.

hood up. headphones around his neck. hoodie sleeves bunched up on his forearms. curls peeking out messily. the most him he’s ever looked.

you stop in the aisle for a second, grinning.

‘you’re in the window seat?’ you tease.

he peeks up at you with that sleepy half-smile, eyes already warm.

‘wanted to watch the clouds. but i’ll trade if you want it.’

you shake your head and slide into the seat beside him. ‘nah. wanna lean on you.’

he makes a soft sound, half a chuckle, half a breath, and reaches for your hand almost immediately. it’s instinct, at this point. the way his fingers find yours without looking. the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles like he needs to remind himself you’re here. his.

you tuck your bag away, get comfortable, rest your head on his shoulder as the plane starts taxiing.

‘remember our first flight?’ you mumble.

he hums. ‘economy class. tragic.’

you laugh, sleepily. ‘you were grumpy.’

‘you held my hand during turbulence.’

‘you fell in love.’

he turns his head a little, presses his lips to your hair.

‘yeah,’ he says softly. ‘i did.’

you close your eyes, smile against his hoodie.

there’s no rush. no uncertainty. no almosts anymore. just his hand in yours, the hum of the engine, and the quiet thud of your hearts keeping time.

somewhere in the sky, between time zones and cloudlines, he whispers:

‘i’d sit in economy again if it meant meeting you.’

you don’t open your eyes. you just squeeze his hand and whisper back:

‘good thing you don’t have to.’

and he smiles, forehead resting against yours, while the plane lifts into the sky.

#f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #franco colapinto fic #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x female reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

Eddie loved flying. When the sun was out and he could watch the cars and houses get smaller while they reached altitude. When everything felt a bit lighter and his stress was under the clouds.

He did not love flying when the weather was bad.

In fact, he’d joked with the flight attendant that maybe they should delay the flight until the wind and dark clouds passed, but she just laughed and said the pilots were used to it.

Good for them. Eddie wasn’t.

He always sat in the window seat in first class, usually had some old businessman on his way to close a very important deal next to him. That wasn’t an option for this last minute flight though, so he was in the last row of the plane, leg bouncing nervously as people continued to board.

“As a courtesy to those around you, please stow your personal items under the seat in front of you as soon as you are in your seat. This allows a faster boarding process for all of us. Thank you!”

The announcement was a reminder that Eddie was flying without his usual carry-on items. His tour manager had packed him a checked bag and sent him on his way.

So he had his phone and his wallet, and eyes looking out the window next to him watching rain start to hit the tarmac below.

“Excuse me, I think that’s my seat,” a man’s voice said from the aisle.

Eddie looked over and saw a long line of men roughly his age in matching track suits, backpacks over their shoulders, and the Notre Dame logo on their jackets.

They were all tall. Well, all except the guy talking to him now. He was pretty average size.

“Uh. I don’t think so man. I’m 36F,” Eddie answered as kindly as his nerves would allow.

The guy checked his phone, brows creasing together.

“I’m 36F.”

No fucking way was Eddie giving up his window seat.

“Is there a problem?” A flight attendant asked from behind them.

“We’re both supposed to be in 36F?” The guy held his phone towards the attendant.

“May I see your boarding pass, sir?” The attendant asked Eddie.

Eddie pulled his own phone out, holding out the mobile boarding pass for her to see it.

“Sorry sir, it looks like you should be in 36E.”

Oh no.

Oh god no.

A middle seat?

There was no fucking way.

“I’m sorry, would it be at all possible for me to be in a window seat?” Eddie didn’t want to cause problems, but his chest was starting to clench and his breaths were coming in short pants.

“Unfortunately, this is a sold out flight. We wouldn’t have any available for you.”

He could feel eyes on him, quite a few of them, but none as obvious as the guy who actually belonged in 36F.

“We can just switch, man. No big deal.”

Eddie sighed with relief.

“Thank you, yeah. That’d be great.”

The attendant nodded and gestured for the guy to sit down.

Someone behind him sat on his other side and they immediately started talking as if nothing had happened.

See? Eddie had actually done them a favor! Now he could talk to his teammate for whatever sport he played and Eddie could watch their impending demise through the window.

The plane was rocking back and forth from the force of the wind blowing outside and the sky continued to grow darker despite the early afternoon hour. Eddie was considering sending a goodbye text to his band when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you okay?”

Eddie’s eyes widened as he turned to look at the guy next to him.

“Do you normally get nervous when you fly? Or is this your first time?” He continued. “Sometimes it helps to just close your eyes during takeoff.”

It was kind of him to try this, truly, but Eddie knew kindness wouldn’t save them if lightning hit them.

“I’m just not a fan of storms.”

The guy was watching him while his teammate on the other side of him talked to the guys across the aisle. Eddie was surrounded by this entire team. The irony was not lost on him that he spent so much of his youth expressing disdain for sports ball and might die among a group of sports ball players.

“Steve.” The guy nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s instead of offering his hand, an odd thing to do but the contact was grounding.

“Eddie.”

“You wanna hold my hand?”

Did they already die during takeoff? Did Eddie somehow end up in heaven?

This very attractive man, who definitely didn’t even know who Eddie was, was offering comfort in these trying times. Offering to hold his hand!

“Uh.”

Steve smiled. “It’s okay if not, but I figured it might help you focus on something else.”

“Sure.”

Steve held his hand out, palm up, and Eddie laced their fingers together.

“So, Eddie. Tell me where you’re off to.”

Eddie breathed in, breathed out. “My Uncle. He’s getting his appendix out so I’m trying to get there before he wakes up.”

“Oh. I had mine out when I was 10! Is he okay?” Steve seemed genuinely concerned and Eddie felt his stomach swoop.

“Yeah! Yeah, they caught it before it ruptured. But because of his age, they said his recovery might be a little rough so I’m gonna stay with him for a week to make sure he doesn’t overdo it. He’s a stubborn old man who’d probably be pulling weeds from his garden within hours if I wasn’t going so.” Eddie looked back out the window. Fingers reached under his chin, turning him away from the window.

“Eyes on me.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Eddie nodded and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Good.”

Fuck.

“So, you’re close with your uncle?” Steve asked, as if he hadn’t just turned Eddie’s entire world upside down.

“Mhm. He basically raised me. More like a dad,” Eddie whispered out.

The pilot was making an announcement, but you couldn’t pay Eddie to tell you what it was for. He barely even noticed that they were backing away from the boarding zone.

“Do you visit him often?”

“As often as I can. My job keeps me busy,” Eddie shrugged, not really wanting to give it away, didn’t wanna give Steve a reason to look at him differently.

Eddie was gonna soak up this attention as long as he could.

It was actually helping distract him.

“I get that. I mean, I play basketball for Notre Dame and it basically is a full time job. We travel so much, most of my classes are online. I hardly ever get back home to visit my family,” Steve admitted with a sad smile. “Luckily, they come see me at my home games when they can. Does your uncle get to visit you sometimes?”

Just as Eddie went to answer, he caught lightning out of the corner of his eye and his entire body tensed.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was firm, drawing his attention away from the window quickly. “Keep your eyes on me. We’re fine. Just you and me talking right now.”

They were nearly at the runway for takeoff and it was getting harder to focus on Steve’s words, the warmth of his hand in his, the fact that if it were truly dangerous, they wouldn’t even be cleared for takeoff.

As the plane sped up, Eddie whimpered.

He’d be embarrassed later if he survived.

Steve’s hand pulled from his and wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him against his side while his other hand cupped the back of his head and kept his face against his chest.

“Just breathe. I’ve got ya.”

And really, if the plane went down in flames, no one could save them. But hearing it did help, especially with arms holding him so tightly, he almost didn’t even remember he was on a plane.

But not quite.

The wind was strong enough to make the takeoff rough, shaking the plane more than usual as it left the ground.

Eddie’s hand gripped Steve’s shirt so tight, he would probably cause a tear if his nails weren’t so dull.

He stayed like that while they continued to climb above the clouds, the air pockets making the flight a bit more turbulent than Eddie was okay with.

He felt the vibrations of Steve talking, but didn’t hear him, didn’t even know if he was talking to him or the guy next to him who probably thought Eddie was an idiot.

The pilot made an announcement he didn’t hear, but he figured if he was gonna die, he could die against the chest of a nice, hot guy.

“Worst of it’s almost done, babe,” Steve said, lips against the top of Eddie’s head.

Gareth would never stop teasing him about this if he ever found out.

Being consoled by a sports ball guy during a flight he’s taken at least 30 times in the last two years.

New low? Maybe new high if he managed to get his number.

Steve’s fingers played with his hair, and he slowly felt his body relax.

His last thought before drifting asleep was how nice it was to be held like this.

***

“I think he’s probably a cookie guy.”

Eddie’s eyes blinked open to Steve’s voice quietly rumbling in his ear.

He’d been adjusted at some point so his head rested on Steve’s shoulder, one hand against his chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time he fell asleep on a flight. Maybe the last time they flew to London from LA right after a show?

And those had been perfect flying conditions.

He lifted his head as he rubbed at his eyes and tried not to let the butterflies take over when Steve’s hand squeezed his hip.

“Hey sleepyhead. You want cookies or pretzels?”

“Cookies always. Please.” Eddie yawned.

As he took the package of Biscoff cookies, he noticed how smooth the flight was and the sun shining through the window.

Steve’s arm stayed around him.

The entire flight.

Even after he’d gotten up to use the restroom.

Even when there was no real reason to offer him comfort anymore.

Even when they landed on the runway in Indianapolis and the seatbelt light turned off.

Even while they talked to each other the entire flight, sharing the smallest details about themselves as if it was a first date.

“Would it be okay if I get your number? I’d like to check on your uncle later if that’s okay,” Steve asked, suddenly seeming more nervous than he had the entire flight.

I’m “Yes! Yeah, please,” he quickly typed it into Steve’s phone, putting his name as Eddie M 🛫. “Uh, thanks for, ya know, helping. Kind of embarrassing.”

“No reason to be embarrassed. It was scary.”

“Yeah. I just figured I fly so much, I should be used to it.”

“You never told me what your job was,” Steve nudged him as he pocketed his phone.

“I didn’t.” Eddie almost didn’t wanna ruin this. But he’d figure it out or find out and then it’d be worse. “I’m the lead singer for Corroded Coffin.”

“Is that…a famous band?”

The guy on the other side of Steve smacked his shoulder. “Dude, one of their songs is on our locker room hype playlist. Dustin’s obsessed.”

“Shut up, Lucas. You know I have my own playlist!” Steve turned back to Eddie and rolled his eyes. “Sorry. So you’re like famous.”

“You could say that,” Eddie hated saying it though, at least in these situations. “You really didn’t know?”

“Nah. I’m more of a pop and 80s kinda guy.”

“Maybe you could send me a playlist? Ya know, when you check on my uncle later,” Eddie suggested.

“Sure. I’ve got a two and a half hour bus ride back to campus to work on one.” Steve smirked. “You gonna be alright now?”

“Yeah. Thanks again. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime. Anything you need.”

And Eddie was pretty sure he meant it.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #drabble #headcanon #somewhat based on real events #university of Utah lacrosse team I hope you won whatever games you flew here to play on Easter weekend

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count-on-mi · 8 months ago

Text

Mile High Club (Mina)

Mina is a senior flight attendant of an airline. The stewardess uniform tightly wraps her towering breasts and round buttocks, , also her angelic face, always allow her attracting countless envious glances when shuttle through the air.

As a senior flight attendant, Mina knows the first-class passengers on the plane very well. She knows which passengers will stare at her beautiful legs as soon as they board the plane, and which guests like to deliberately touch her butt when collecting their luggage. some people will even send her obscene invitations to " take care of " themselves during the flight.

Mina never refuses invitations from these men because she knows her advantages - she has a mesmerizing face and a pair of beautiful legs that can drive any man crazy. Whenever Mina sees the first-class guests casting fiery glances at her, she knows she has a new target.

Mina walked lightly to the first-class seat in black pointed high heels, attracting the attention of many people along the way.

She sat nimbly next to a middle-aged man about forty years old. This was not the first time this guest had taken this flight. Mina recognized his squinting eyes immediately.

" Hello, sir, I am Mina, the steward of this flight . Do you need anything?" Mina smiled and handed over a glass of red wine. Her little hand slipped across the man's arm intentionally or unintentionally, causing the other person to immediately become short of breath.

"Ah... no, no... I'm just... honored to be on your flight..." the man replied incoherently, and Mina noticed that his eyes kept rolling on her thighs.

"Then, if you have any needs, sir, please call me at any time and I will try my best to satisfy you." Mina put the red wine in front of the man, got up and walked towards the other passengers.

" Really ... is it okay ...?" The man looked at Mina 's back in surprise, watching her tall and graceful figure gradually move away, with an evil smile on his lips.

Of course, Mina understood the meaning behind this smile, she had expected it, but this was her job - to meet the various needs of first-class guests, even those that went beyond ordinary etiquette.

Sure enough, after the meal was over, the middle-aged man pressed the internal call button. Mina smiled knowingly, opened the hatch and walked in. "Sir, how can I help you?" Mina stood in front of the man and asked with a low eyebrow.

The men looked at Mina lustfully : "I want ... to let you stay with me here for a little while ... just for a little while ..."

Mina blinked innocently: "Here? But this is against the rules..."

"Don't be afraid... we'll keep the noise down... and I'm willing to give you some tips..." The man quickly took out a stack of thick bills from his wallet, put it on the table and pushed it to Mina.

Mina's eyes wandered between the banknotes and the man, and she quickly decided: "Since you are so sincere, then I have to try my best..."

She walked up behind the man, quietly unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt with her little hands, and whispered softly in her ear: "Sir...how do you want me to 'take care' of you...?"

The man's breathing suddenly became heavy. He reached out and grabbed Mina's arm and pulled her into his arms...

Mina smiled knowingly. She stood up and closed the seat partition to ensure that no one would disturb their "game".

Returning to the man, Mina leaned down, stretched out her tongue and licked the man's neck, leaving wet traces. "Sir, do you think my 'care' is adequate now?"

The man had been completely aroused by Mina. He roughly pulled open Mina's collar and covered her breasts with his hands and keep kneaded them. "Oh...it's so cool...I really should have chosen first class earlier..."

Mina hummed softly, raised her neck and let the man bite her throat. Her little hand restlessly inserted into the man's crotch, skillfully found the hot hard cock, and began to stroke it up and down.

" Umm ... you are so amazing ... It is already so big ..." Mina looked at the man with charming eyes and increased the speed of her hand.

"Fuck! It's so fucking exciting..." the man roared, grabbing Mina's wrist to stop her movement, then grabbed her collar and ripped it open, revealing a large area of snow-white skin.

" Miss Mina ... I want you to give it to me now ..." the man gasped and growled. Mina nodded with a smile, knelt on the ground and took off the man's pants ...

Mina gently took off the man's pants and underwear. The man's already highly erected penis eagerly popped out and jumped twice in the air.

"Oh...it's so energetic..." Mina wrapped her fingers around the thick and hard penis, stroked it up and down a few times before lowering her head and swallowing the tip into her mouth.

"Ah...Miss Mina...so good..." The man cried out comfortably, and inserted one hand into Mina's hair to press her head down, while the other hand reached into Mina's open top. The pair of white and tender breasts were rubbed vigorously inside.

Mina didn't care about the man's rough movements. She skillfully swallowed the huge thing in her mouth, and occasionally lick the sensitive crown with the tip of her tongue to arouse the man's excitement.

"It feels so good... You are much better than that whore last time..." The man became more and more excited. He simply picked up Mina's head and inserted it completely. His abdomen hit her chin and made a loud slapping sound.

Mina tried her best to relax her throat to allow the man to thrust easily, sucking and swallowing with the men’s rhythm at the same time. Soon the man's breathing became heavy and rapid, the only thing left in the cabin was the man's sensual moans and the gurgling sound of water in Mina's throat...

With Mina's efforts, the man quickly reached climax. He held Mina's head firmly against his crotch, and a thick white liquid spurted out, pouring all of it into Mina's mouth.

Mina did not spit out the man's penis immediately, but swallowed every drop of semen in her mouth, and did not raise her head until the man softened.

" Miss Mina ... you are so wonderful ..." the man gasped, still stroking Mina 's hair with his big hands.

Mina smiled and wiped away the residue from her lips, then crawled back onto the man: " In that case, sir, do you want more ' care ‘? "

Without saying a word, the man pushed Mina down on the seat and eagerly pulled open her uniform skirt, revealing the narrow thong between her slender legs. " Fuck ... you little evil ... I'm going to fuck you up ..." The man growled, taking off his clothes, stepping forward and possessing Mina fiercely...

"Ah... so deep... you are so powerful..." Mina raised her neck and hummed softly. The man's penis was thick, long and powerful, and it reached the deepest point at once.

The man grabbed Mina's waist and pumped her quickly, hitting her every time, causing Mina to moan intermittently. "Scream louder...I like to hear your voice..." the man ordered, while increasing the intensity.

" Oh ... Sir ... be gentle ... I won't be able to bear it ..." Mina twisted her waist to escape from the man's control, but it only made the man more excited.

"Little evil... you just need to be fucked..." The man rushed forward and kissed Mina on the lips, holding her swaying breasts in his big hands and kneading them.

Mina responded to the man's deep kiss, inserted one hand between the two of them, and gently twisted the man's scrotum, while the other hand left scratch marks on the man's back.

"Hmm... It's so fucking exciting... You really should be a prostitute..." The man was so excited by Mina's reaction that his penis expanded more and more, and each penetration brought Mina greater pleasure.

In the midst of this passion, the plane suddenly encountered turbulence, and the fuselage began to vibrate violently. "Be careful...ah..." Mina exclaimed, hugging the man's shoulders tightly with both hands, and the two of them swayed on the chair.

"Fuck...I don't care...let's continue..." The man gritted his teeth, fixed Mina's buttocks with his hands and continued to thrust violently, as if he wanted to penetrate her...

Mina lost control due to the man's collision. She raised her head and threw her hair away. She screamed and twisted her waist desperately, seeming to enjoy this wild pleasure.

The bumps in the fuselage caused the two of them to constantly collide and rub against each other, which only added to the excitement of sex. Mina's legs were wrapped around the man's waist, her fingers dug deep into his back, and her nails made bloody marks.

"Fuck...it feels so good...I'm going to cum..." the man growled, speeding up his thrusts and gushing out in the deepest part of Mina.

Mina also reached climax at the same time. She screamed and stretched her waist, her vagina tightened around the man's penis like a spasm, and a large amount of honey gushed out.

" Ah ... that's great ..." Mina fell into the man's arms exhausted, her forehead covered with beads of sweat.

The man chuckled lightly and kissed the corner of Mina's lips: "Your 'care' is so perfect... I will only choose you when I fly first class in the future..."

Mina chuckled and whispered in the man's ear: " Then we'll see you on the next flight ..."

When the man heard this, he was immediately excited. He hugged Mina tightly and planned to have a second round...

"Wait..." Mina suddenly pushed the man away with an embarrassed expression.

"What's wrong?" The man looked at Mina in confusion.

Mina blushed and shook her head: "For the second round of your special service, we need to charge some extra fees..."

The man's eyes widened: "What do you mean? Aren't you a flight attendant on the plane?"

Mina said: " Yes, but to provide such a long-term special service to one customer, there is still an additional charge ..."

"What?!" The man was furious. He stood up angrily: "So you are playing tricks on me..."

Mina quickly grabbed the man and explained aggrievedly: "Don't be angry... Of course I am willing to serve you, but this is not in compliance with company regulations... If I am found out, I will lose my job..."

"Then how much do you want?" the man asked.

Mina thought for a moment and held out three fingers hesitantly.

"Three thousand?!" The man was shocked.

" No ... it's three hundred thousand ..." Mina said with a blush.

"What?! Do you think I'm being taken advantage of?" the man was furious.

Mina immediately put on a pitiful look: " But sir ... I really can't provide such services for free ... You just said that I am much better than a prostitute ..."

The man sighed helplessly. He took out a thick stack of cash from the suitcase and threw it to Mina: "Okay... take it..."

After getting the money, Mina immediately changed into a different person. She knelt on the ground and leaned down again, using her gloves to touch the man's genitals while taking it into her mouth.

" Ah ... little fairy ... you are really ..." The man felt Mina 's skill and closed his eyes comfortably. Mina licked the man like a charming cat, her tongue swirled around the crown, and then suddenly slid into the deepest recess, scraping the sensitive spots teasingly.

"Oh... you're really good at licking..." The man couldn't help but hold down Mina's head and completely insert his penis into her mouth.

Mina obediently allowed herself to be manipulated by the man. The tip of her tongue hung at the base of the penis, rubbing the sensitive parts as the man thrust. "I'm going to cum..." The man's breathing became heavy. He held Mina's head firmly, thrust dozens of times, and then poured all the hot fluid into Mina's mouth.

Mina carefully swallowed every drop of semen, raised her head and showed a charming smile to the man: "Do you have any other 'requests'?"

The man stared at Mina's flushed lips and smiled evilly: "I want to fuck every hole in your body..." Mina immediately understood what the man meant. She turned over and lay on the seat, raising her butt high: "Then come on...please enjoy my back garden..."

The man stared intently at Mina's buttocks. Her vagina had not yet been closed, and the pink flesh walls could be vaguely seen, as well as the white turbid semen that was constantly flowing out. "What a beauty..." The man reached out and slapped Mina on the buttocks with emotion, causing her to scream.

"Moan..." the man ordered. He held Mina's waist and slowly advanced. The front end of his cock separated the pink anus and gradually sank into it. "Ah...Sir...slower..." Mina raised her head and gasped, feeling a strange pleasure from the thick foreign object invading her anus.

The man ignored Mina's pleas. He grabbed Mina's waist and pushed hard, inserting the entire penis into Mina's anus. "Oh..." Mina whispered in a daze. She felt that part of her body was stretched to the limit, and the man's penis jumped up and down in her body, bringing waves of tingling pleasure.

The man began to thrust rapidly. His penis was tightly wrapped by Mina's ass, and every inch of skin was rubbing, causing an extreme sense of comfort. "It feels so fucking good...you little devil..." the man growled and sped up, hitting Mina's G-spot with every penetration, causing her to scream.

"Ah...don't...too deep...sir..." Mina cried, the pain and pleasure coming from her anus made her almost lose her mind. The man doesn't care about so much, he just wants to indulge in Mina. His big hands pinched Mina's breasts, kneading them into various shapes, and pinched the sensitive nipples with his fingertips.

"Moan louder...I'm going to fuck you out..." The man gasped, his penis moving in and out of Mina's body quickly.

"Oh...Sir...I can't survive...I'm going to be broken..." Mina burst into tears. She felt that her lower body was completely out of control, and streams of juice could not stop pouring out of her vagina.

"Then let me see how wild you can be..." The man bit Mina's shoulder viciously, and his penis hit the deepest part, and then erupted again amidst Mina's high-pitched moans. White turbid semen spurted out and poured into Mina's rectum, mixing with the previous semen, making the entire anus look even muddier.

"It feels so fucking good...you are such a natural born slut..." The man pulled out his penis, covered Mina's buttocks with one hand, turned her over and pressed her on the seat, and once again buried his head in her Chest biting and sucking...

Mina looked at the man in front of her who was crazy about her with joy. She understood that as long as she could make him cum more often, she would get higher rewards.

"Do you still want it... Are you satisfied with Mina's service... Do you still want more?” Mina’s teasing is so effective that the men’s cock starts to rise again. "You little evil..." the man growled. He grabbed Mina's hands and held them above her head. Then he lowered his head and kissed Mina's red lips hard.

Mina responded to the kiss passionately, her tongue protruding into the man's mouth and entangled with his. At the same time, she felt a hot thing squeeze into her body, slowly but surely moving deeper.

" Ah ... Sir ... you are so amazing ..." Mina gasped repeatedly. She felt that the desire in her body was completely ignited, and her whole body seemed to be in cloud 9, bumping up and down with the man's movements.

The man pumped faster and faster, and his penis was tightly wrapped by Mina's tight vagina, bringing unprecedented pleasure. " Fuck ... you're driving me crazy ..." the man cursed in a low voice. He grabbed Mina 's slender waist and pushed hard ..." Mina pretended to be helpless and moaned. In fact, she felt unprecedented Relief.

The man gasped and sped up, and every thrust hit Mina's deepest core, causing a throbbing sensation. " It feels so good ..." Mina swayed obliviously, her breasts rising and falling as if they were two active volcanoes waiting to be conquered.

The man became even more excited when he saw Mina. He grabbed Mina's breasts hard and rubbed and pressed her nipples with his thumbs, causing a burst of electricity to pass through her body. " Ah ... Sir ... harder ... deeper ..." Mina twisted her body to meet the man's movements. She felt that her desire had reached the limit, and she longed for a more violent impact.

The man's scalp was numb from the stimulation of Mina's words and movements. He growled, held Mina's slim waist with both hands, and pushed his penis deep. "Oh...it's too deep..." Mina raised her head and gasped. Her eyes were blurred, as if she had lost consciousness.

The man pumped faster and faster, and his glans kept hitting Mina's cervix, causing waves of spasms." Call me husband ... you slut ..." The man bit Mina 's ear, his hoarse voice filled with indescribable temptation.

" Husband ... " Mina responded unconsciously. Her body was completely dominated, and she could only passively withstand the man's attack.

The man felt Mina 's body tighten suddenly, followed by a violent tremor. His penis was tightly twisted, almost suffocating.

" Ah...I'm going to cum..." the man growled, his penis buried deeply into Mina's body, spurting out stream after stream of hot heat inside. "Husband..." Mina also reached climax. She hugged the man tightly, and their bodies softened after a spasm.

The man gently stroked Mina's sweaty back and whispered, " You are mine for the rest of the flight. " Mina raised her head and smiled sweetly at the man. She responded softly: "Yes, husband..."

The man stared at Mina in front of him. Although the stewardess uniform she was wearing was already messy, the contrast between chaos and order gave people a very impactful sense of beauty.

Mina also noticed the man's gaze. She deliberately shook her body, revealing the snow-white skin under her clothes and a faint red mark. "Sir..." Mina blinked and called softly, as if teasing something.

The man felt that the thing in his body was tending to rise again, and he sighed. This woman was simply a natural succubus, who could always easily arouse his desire.

"What are we going to do now..." Mina tilted her head and looked at the man, looking innocent, but her eyes were so coquettish that her heart beat faster.

The man couldn't help but leaned down, and his lips fell on Mina's forehead, nose, and lips, licking all the way down, and finally took a hard red fruit in his mouth and sucked hard. "Oh..." Mina raised her head and hummed. She put her arms around the man's neck and offered her lips and tongue.

The man growled and deepened the kiss. His big hands slipped under Mina's skirt, covering her smooth thighs, and gradually explored upwards...

"Well...Husband..." Mina's murmurs came intermittently. She felt that she was about to be ignited again, and that primitive desire was taking over her reason little by little...

Mina knew exactly what she had to do - there was only the last moment before the plane landed, and she had to seize this last opportunity to drain the man in front of her. So, Mina kept whispering "husband". She twisted her body and rubbed the man's lower body, trying to arouse his interest.

" Husband ... I want more ..." Mina said coquettishly, her fingers slipped under the man's nightgown, grabbed the half-hard penis and started to play with it.

The man felt that he was about to lose control, but he still couldn't bear to stop. Mina's techniques are proficient and full of skills. She seems to be born with all this, and people can't help but indulge in it.

" You goblin ..." the man gasped and pushed Mina down on the seat again. His tongue swept across Mina 's bare shoulders, leaving a trail of glistening saliva.

" As long as my husband likes it ..." Mina chuckled. She put her arms around the man's neck and pulled him to cover her again.

The man buried his head in Mina 's chest and sucked her nipples hard. At the same time, he raised his buttocks and pressed against Mina 's private parts, rubbing them slightly.

"Oh..." Mina felt a numbing pleasure spread from her lower body. She couldn't help but raise her head and moan in response to the man's sucking. " Baby ... you are so sweet ..." The man's hoarse voice sounded extremely aggressive. He pulled open Mina 's dress without any explanation and bit into a bud.

"Husband..." Mina sighed softly and opened her legs to facilitate the man's further invasion. The man unhooked Mina's bra, and a pair of proud jade rabbits popped out. The man eagerly lowered his head, took one of the nipples into his mouth, and teased it with the tip of his tongue, causing Mina to gasp.

" Ah ... it feels so comfortable ... honey ... push harder ..." Mina twisted her body, her hand kept touching the man's penis and began to stroke it gently. The man felt the heat gradually rising in his lower body, and his breathing became heavier, but he still did not forget to take care of Mina's two-point red cherry in his mouth, sucking and licking it, making a "tsk tsk" sound.

"Husband... I can't bear it anymore... Come in..." Mina begged softly, her legs automatically parted, inviting the man to enter. The man finally let go of Mina 's breasts. He put his hands on Mina 's waist, then slowly moved forward, and slowly inserted his huge penis into Mina 's body.

" Ah!" Mina raised her head and gasped. The depths of her body were immediately filled, and an electric-like pleasure coursed through her limbs.

The man began to pump slowly, going all the way in every stroke, hitting the deepest part of Mina. " Honey ... come on ... harder ..." Mina urged, feeling like she was about to melt into the waves of pleasure.

The man obeyed the order and sped up. His penis quickly moved in and out of Mina's body, making waves of water and sluggish sounds. " Baby, you're so tight ... it's driving me crazy ..." the man gasped, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

When Mina heard the man's words, a proud smile appeared on her lips. She adjusted her breathing, and then rhythmically tightened her body cavity, tightly wrapping the man's hot desire.

"Oh!" The man felt that he was being tightly clamped, and Mina's pussy seemed to be alive, squirming and squeezing, trying to squeeze out all the essence in his body.

"Baby...you're going to drain me..." the man roared, his speed getting faster and faster, hitting Mina's deepest part hard every time, causing waves of convulsions.

Mina 's breathing became more and more rapid. She clutched the sheets tightly, and her whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Honey... cum together... I'm cumming..." Mina shouted in a daze, her body suddenly tightened again, and a strong suction force hit the man's clone. "Oh...fuck!" The man could no longer control himself. He growled and poured all of himself into Mina's body.

The two of them froze up while climaxing and could not recover for a long time.

After a while, the man withdrew from Mina's body, bringing out a large amount of viscous bodily fluids. Mina was lying on her back on the seat, the lingering feeling had not dissipated, her eyes were a little confused, and she seemed to be in some kind of passionate state.

The man leaned down, gently stroked Mina 's hair, and said with a low smile: " Baby, you are truly a stunner. " Mina narrowed her eyes and showed a charming smile: "Husband, this is just the beginning." "

For the next period, Mina was like an insatiable demon, constantly squeezing the desire out of the man's body. They tried various positions and methods, reaching the peak again and again.

It wasn't until the plane started to land that Mina stopped this wild game. She quickly arranged her clothes to cover up the mess on her body. Then, Mina took out a large check from the man's wallet, smiled kindly at him, and left his first-class cabin.

When Mina returned to work, she looked as elegant and capable as ever. No one could have imagined that this dignified stewardess had just staged such a ridiculous love affair in a private cabin.

Mina greeted the other passengers with a smile on her face. She stuffed the check left by the man into her pocket and silently planned her spending plan for tonight.

The drained man was still unconscious on the first-class bed. His body was covered with hickeys and fingerprints, and a pool of thick bodily fluids wet the sheets.

It seems that this journey will become a very unforgettable memory for him.

#minasaiyatis #twice smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #m reader #twice imagines #mina smut #twice mina

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redpill-tfs · 3 months ago

Note

sup mate I'm british can I get a red pill I hate it here.

I'd be glad to help you out mate. I'll send you the pill and a plane ticket shortly. You'll know what to do when you arrive at your destination.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You arrive at the London airport about a week later, ticket and pill in hand. Nothing else will be needed for your new life. You weren't told where you were going, and the ticket strangely doesn't say. It just has your name and the gate number. You're starting to feel a bit weirded out by it but anything is better than staying here in Britain, right?

You get through security with no issues, arriving at your gate just as the passengers are boarding. You sit down in your seat, ready for your new life to begin as the plane takes off not long after. The guy next to you is in a military uniform, looking at the nearly naked women in a magazine he brought. You try to hide your disgust in having to sit next to this guy for the whole flight. Those imperialist douchebags just bragged about the women they fucked and flexing in front of the bros. Totally unlike you in every way.

You remember the pill in your pocket and pull it out. It sits in the palm of your hand, almost begging to be swallowed. The in flight TV is playing news about debates in Parliament, but you can't bring yourself to pay attention. It's not as though British politics will matter to you anymore. that isn't to say you paid much attention before, not even taking the time to vote.

As the flight attendant brings you your water and the smallest bag of pretzels you've ever seen, you take the chance to finally take the red pill. It goes down on the first gulp. At first you don't feel anything. Was this all a scam? Are you going to be stuck in the US with only the clothes on your back and no way to contact anyone back home?

You don't have to worry for long, however, as you get a tingling feeling in your stomach. You squeeze past the guy sitting next to you and rush to the airplane bathroom, quickly locking the door behind you. You press your hands against the sink to support yourself. Were they always that big and calloused?

You take a look in the bathroom's mirror. Your hair has been cut into a short, standard brown haircut, not a hair out of place. Some stubble has grown onto your face, giving a nice mature but rugged look.

You stare in shock as your body changes. Any fat on your body is gone in an instant, replaced by pure muscle. Not too much, just enough to show you're in shape and train regularly. You feel your feet grow larger, now a size 14.

Your old clothes disappear in a flash as new clothes materialize in their place to match the new you. Your old nerdy t shirt is now a plain dark green, complimenting your new figure. Dark green camo pants accompany the look, perfectly showing off your longer legs. Was your butt always that much of a bubble butt? The pants sure don't hide it. A camo jacket drapes itself over your shoulders, the American flag displayed proudly on your bigger arm. Finally, a pair of boots plops onto your feet, ready for the days of training ahead. (Wait, training?)

That's right, you're heading back to base after taking a short vacation to the UK with your bro Jake. You've been in the army since you turned 18, hating your time in school and wanting to serve your country proudly, just as your father and grandfather did before you. You met Jake on the first day of bootcamp and became the best of bros ever since. You two constantly worked out together, ate meals together, and of course hit on women together when you took trips off base. You couldn't ask for a better wingman if your body count was anything to go by. The ladies love a man in uniform after all.

You give yourself one last look over in the mirror before you head back to your seat, giving Jake your special handshake as you sit back down next to him.

"You okay, bro? You were in there for a while."

"Yeah, broski. Just making sure I look good for the chicks, ya know?"

"If you say so bro. Hey, check out this chick in here."

As you refastened your seatbelt, you take a look back at the TV. FOX News is reporting how Trump is passing tariffs on Canada and Mexico. You smirk as you listen. You can't think of a better president than Trump, besides maybe Reagan. He was turning the country back around, making it a force to be reckoned with soon the global stage. Those sissy snowflake libtards could cry about it all they wanted, but you knew the country was on the Right path once again. You voted for Trump all three times he ran of course.

The flight landed in South Carolina not long after, and you and Jake set off back to Fort Jackson. Though sure no one would notice if you two snuck in a quick trip to a bar for a one night stand!

#liberal to conservative #lib to con #gay to straight #male transformation #male tf #jockification #military tf #soldier tf #red pill #red pilled

162 notes · View notes

ghstyles · 1 month ago

Text

For Worse or For Worse

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. WC: 6.3K

. Masterlist

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Three days

Three days and Harry was losing his mind. Why wasn’t she responding?

The silence stretched like an eternity. Harry paced the length of their bedroom, phone clutched in his hand as he checked, for what must have been the hundredth time that hour, to see if Y/N had responded to any of his increasingly frantic messages.

Nothing. Not since the brief text she'd sent when boarding her flight. Not a single call, message, or even a social media update to indicate she was okay.

"Fuck!" he swore, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Something's wrong, I know it."

Grumps looked up from his spot on Y/N's side of the bed, where he'd been sleeping since she left. The cat whined softly, as if sharing Harry's concern.

Harry glanced at the clock—3:17 AM. He'd barely slept since Y/N left, his mind spiraling between anger, worry, and a creeping fear he couldn't shake. Each scenario his brain conjured was worse than the last.

Had she changed her mind about them? Had she decided their relationship wasn't worth pursuing after all? Or was something actually wrong: an accident, an illness, or something that prevented her from reaching out?

He's tried everything—calls that go straight to voicemail, texts that remain unread, even DMs on social platforms that show no sign of being seen. He’d have emailed but he remembered how she once said she rarely checks her email. He’s contacted the airline to confirm her flight landed safely (it did), and considered, in increasingly desperate moments, calling her mother's landline. Only his awareness of how that might seem has stopped him so far. He'd even swallowed his pride and called Jeff, asking if there'd been any unexpected media about Y/N that might explain her silence.

Nothing. It was as if she'd vanished.

Harry dropped onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion and worry. Grumps shuffled over to rest his head on Harry's thigh, offering silent comfort.

"What if she's hurt?" he murmured, scratching behind the cat’s ears. "What if she needs me and I'm just sitting here like a fucking idiot?"

He groaned, falling back into the bed, the ache in his heart growing by the second.

What if the distance has given her perspective, made her realize that their relationship isn't what she wants after all? What if she's using this time away to figure out how to end things when she returns?

"No," he says aloud, rejecting the thought even as it threatens to take root. "That's not it. She wouldn't just disappear."

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Three days earlier - Immediately after landing

Y/N exits the plane, already fumbling in her bag for her phone to call Harry as promised. Her fingers brush against empty fabric where her phone should be, causing immediate panic to rise in her throat.

"No, no, no," she mutters, stepping aside in the jetway to more thoroughly search her bag while other passengers stream past her. She empties the contents: wallet, passport, lip balm, headphones, gum—but no phone.

A flight attendant notices her distress. "Everything alright, miss?"

"I can't find my phone," Y/N explains, trying to keep her voice steady. "I think I left it on the plane."

The attendant helps her look, checking under seats and in seat pockets, but the device is nowhere to be found. A sinking realization hits Y/N—she must have dropped it at the airport, or worse, on the street outside Harry's house during their goodbye.

"I'm so sorry, but we don't have any unclaimed phones," the attendant finally says. "You can leave your information at the lost and found desk."

Y/N nods, thanking the woman despite her growing distress. Harry will be expecting her call. He'll worry when she doesn't reach out.

As she makes her way through the airport, her mother's familiar figure comes into view, waiting beyond security with an excited wave.

"Y/N!" her mother exclaims, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

Y/N returns the hug, momentarily distracted from her phone predicament by the warmth of her mother's embrace.

"I've missed you too, Mom," she says, meaning it deeply despite the undercurrent of anxiety about not being able to contact Harry.

As they collect her luggage, Y/N explains the situation. "I need to call Harry right away. He's expecting to hear from me."

Her mother frowns slightly. "We can try when we get home, but the landline's been acting up since the storm last week. Cell service at the house has always been spotty too, you know that."

Y/N's stomach drops. The costal location of her family home suddenly feels like an insurmountable obstacle.

"Maybe we can stop somewhere on the way? I just need to let him know I'm okay."

"Of course, dear," her mother assures her, though Y/N can see the slight puzzlement in her expression. Her mother still isn't quite convinced that her relationship with Harry is as genuine as Y/N has recently claimed.

___

Day One - Evening

Y/N sits on her childhood bed, frustration mounting as she tries again to place a call from the ancient family computer. The internet connection keeps dropping, the video call attempt failing for the third time.

"Any luck?" her mother asks from the doorway.

Y/N shakes her head, fighting back tears of frustration. "The connection's too weak for a call. I tried sending an email, but I don't even know if it went through."

Her mother sits beside her, placing a comforting hand on her back. "The repair company said they can't get someone out here until after the New Year. But Mrs. Peterson down the road has better service. We can drive over tomorrow and use her phone."

"He must be so worried," Y/N whispers, imagining Harry checking his phone repeatedly, wondering why she hasn't called as promised.

"If he cares for you as much as you say, he'll understand once you explain," her mother says, though Y/N doesn't miss the note of skepticism in her voice. The lingering doubt that Harry Styles could genuinely care for her daughter beyond their contractual arrangement.

Y/N doesn't blame her mother for the doubt. Until recently, she might have shared it. But after Christmas, after seeing the vulnerability in Harry's eyes when he spoke of their future...

"He does care," Y/N says firmly, more to herself than to her mother. "And I need to let him know I'm okay."

___

Day Two

The drive to Mrs. Peterson's house ends in disappointment when they discover the elderly woman has gone to stay with her daughter for the holidays. The local library, their next hope, is closed for renovations.

"The general store has a payphone," Y/N's younger brother suggests during dinner. "Old-school, but it works."

Hope flares in Y/N's chest. "We'll go first thing tomorrow."

Her mother eyes her with growing concern. "You really are worried about him, aren't you? This isn't just about keeping up appearances?"

Y/N meets her mother's gaze steadily. "It's not about appearances, Mom. Not anymore."

For the first time, her mother seems to truly consider the possibility that her daughter's feelings for Harry might be genuine.

"Tell me about him," she requests softly. "The real him, not the celebrity."

Y/N finds herself smiling despite her anxiety, words flowing easily as she describes the Harry she's come to know. His kindness to Grumps, his unexpected cooking skills, the way he listens when she talks about her father, how he remembers the smallest details about things that matter to her.

By the time she finishes, her mother is looking at her with new understanding. "You love him," she says simply. It's not a question.

Y/N doesn't deny it, the truth of it settling in her chest with surprising certainty.

___

Day Three - Morning

The general store's payphone turns out to be out of order, a handwritten sign apologizing for the inconvenience. Y/N barely restrains herself from kicking the useless device in frustration.

"There's got to be some way to contact him," she insists, turning to her mother and brother who've accompanied her on this increasingly desperate quest.

Her brother snaps his fingers suddenly. "What about the internet café in Millfield? It's about an hour's drive, but they should be open."

Y/N nearly hugs him. "Yes! Let's go now."

Her mother hesitates. "The roads to Millfield aren't great after the storm—"

"Mom, please," Y/N interrupts, not bothering to hide the desperation in her voice. "I need to let Harry know I'm okay. He must be going out of his mind by now."

Something in her expression must convey the depth of her concern, because her mother's resistance crumbles.

"Alright," she agrees with a sigh. "But we're taking the SUV, and if the weather turns, we're turning back."

The drive to Millfield is tense, all three of them scanning the horizon for signs of more flooding. When they finally arrive at the small internet café, Y/N nearly leaps from the vehicle, rushing inside with renewed hope.

The café is dimly lit but mercifully open, a handful of computers lining the wall. Y/N approaches the counter, explaining her situation to the bored-looking teenager working the register.

"Twenty minutes for five dollars," he informs her, barely looking up from his own phone.

Y/N hands over the cash and settles at a computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as she logs into her email. She quickly types an email, explaining about her lost phone and the communication difficulties, apologizing repeatedly for the worry she's caused him.

Just as she's about to hit send, the lights flicker ominously. The teenager at the counter looks up with a grimace.

"Power's been going in and out all morning," he explains with a shrug. "Storm's messing with the lines."

Y/N increases her typing speed, desperate to get the message sent before—

The screen goes black as the power cuts completely, plunging the café into darkness except for the gray light filtering through the windows.

"No!" Y/N cries out, slapping the side of the monitor as if that might somehow revive it.

"Sorry," the teenager offers, sounding genuinely apologetic for the first time. "Backup generator's busted. Might be a while before it comes back on."

Y/N slumps in her chair, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. So close, yet still unable to reach Harry.

Her mother approaches, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We should head back before the roads get worse," she says softly. "We can try again tomorrow."

Y/N nods numbly, allowing herself to be led back to the car. As they drive home through increasingly heavy and dark clouds, she stares out the window, thinking of Harry alone in their house, checking his phone, wondering why she hasn't called.

"He thinks I've abandoned him," she whispers, more to herself than to her family. "That I've changed my mind."

Her mother reaches across to squeeze her hand. "If he loves you, he'll wait for an explanation."

Y/N turns to look at her mother, surprised by the certainty in her voice.

"Do you think he does?" she asks quietly. "Love me, I mean."

Her mother considers this for a moment, eyes on the snowy road ahead. "From what you've told me? Yes, I think he might. And if that's the case, a few days of silence won't change that. Trust me on this."

Y/N wants desperately to believe her mother is right. That the connection she and Harry have built is strong enough to withstand this unexpected test. As they make their slow way back to the family home, she sends a silent promise across the miles separating them: I'll find a way to reach you. Just hold on a little longer.

Knock knock knock

The unexpected knock startled Y/N as she sat in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by old photos and memories. Three days without being able to contact Harry had left her anxious and frustrated. She'd tried using her mother's landline again, but no one answered at their mansion, and she didn't have his personal number memorized. A deliberate defiance in the beginning that she deeply regretted now.

Opening the door, she found a stiff-looking man in an expensive suit, briefcase in hand, his expression professionally neutral.

"Ms. Y/N? I'm the Styles family lawyer sent on their behalf."

Her heartbeat quickened. "Is Harry okay? I lost my phone at the airport and I've been trying to reach him."

The lawyer's expression didn't change as he held out a business card. "Mr. Thomas Blackwood, representing the Styles family interests. May I come in? This is a rather private matter."

Confusion and unease settled in her stomach as she stepped aside. "Of course."

Once seated at her mother's small kitchen table, Mr. Blackwood opened his sleek leather briefcase with methodical precision. He removed a thick manila envelope and a separate document folder bound with a ribbon.

"Mrs. Styles," he began formally, "I've been instructed to deliver these to you directly. The first is a cashier's check for the agreed-upon amount as stipulated in your marriage contract with Mr. Styles."

He slid the envelope across the table. Y/N stared at it, her confusion mounting.

"I don't understand. The contract isn't up for months."

Blackwood's expression remained impassive. "The family has elected to fulfill the financial obligations early. The second item," he continued, placing the bound document before her, "is a petition for uncontested divorce, which the family requests you sign immediately."

The word "divorce" hit Y/N like a physical blow. She stared at the papers, her mind struggling to process what was happening.

"Divorce? But Harry and I just—we decided to—" She stopped herself, unwilling to share the intimate details of Christmas with this stranger. "This doesn't make any sense. I need to speak with Harry."

"I'm afraid Mr. Styles has made his wishes quite clear," Blackwood replied, his tone revealing nothing. "The family believes this arrangement has served its purpose, and continuance would be...unnecessary."

A chill ran through Y/N as the lawyer's words sank in. Harry wanted out? After everything they'd shared? After promising to tear up the contract and try for something real?

Her fingers shook as she reached for the divorce papers, flipping through to see Harry's signature already there on the last page. The sight of it—that familiar scrawl she'd seen countless times on notes he'd left around the house—felt like a betrayal so profound it stole her breath.

"When did he sign these?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not privy to that information," Blackwood replied smoothly. "I was simply instructed to obtain your signature and inform you that the family appreciates your discretion throughout this process."

"Who sent you here?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

For the first time, a flicker of discomfort crossed the lawyer's face. "I represent the Styles family interests as a whole. Now, if you could sign where indicated—"

Y/N's thoughts raced. Could Harry really have agreed to this? After the way he'd held her, the vulnerability in his eyes when he'd asked her to come back to him?

But the evidence was right in front of her.

His signature

The lawyer

The check

Had it all been an act? Had he been planning this all along, waiting until she was away to send someone else to do his dirty work?

Hot tears threatened, but she refused to let them fall. Not in front of this man, this messenger for a family that had always seen her as beneath them.

Something cold and hard settles in her chest as she realizes the truth: she'd fallen in love with a man who had apparently been counting the days until he could end their arrangement. While she'd been desperately trying to contact him, worried sick about how her silence might be affecting him, he'd been preparing divorce papers.

"Ms. Y/N?" the lawyer prompts, his impatience barely concealed beneath his professional veneer. "If you have concerns about the settlement terms, I can review them with you, but Mr. Styles has been quite generous."

Of course he has, Y/N thinks bitterly. Money has never been an issue for Harry. It's always been about what he can buy with it. Including, apparently, a convenient temporary wife who was foolish enough to believe she might become something more.

Her mother hovers in the doorway, clearly distressed by the scene unfolding in her living room. "Y/N, honey, maybe you should think about this. Wait until you can speak with Harry directly—"

"There's nothing to discuss," Y/N interrupts, her voice steadier than she expected as she reaches for the pen. "This was always the arrangement. A business deal."

The lawyer nods approvingly as she signs her name beside Harry's, the finality of the action sending a wave of nausea through her.

Each scratch of the pen felt like another crack in her heart. By the time she signed the final page, Y/N felt hollow inside, the pain so acute it had circled around to numbness.

"Excellent," Blackwood said, gathering the documents with practiced efficiency. "The divorce should be finalized within six to eight weeks, given the prenuptial agreement and the uncontested nature. The funds are yours to keep regardless, as stipulated in your original contract."

Y/N barely hears him, her eyes fixed on the coffee table where the document had been moments before. Had she imagined the past few months? The gradual softening between them, the genuine connection that had formed beneath the contractual obligation?

"Is there anything else you need from me?" she asks, desperate now for this man to leave, to take his briefcase and his paperwork and his clinical dismantling of her heart away with him.

"No, that's all," he confirms, standing and extending his hand for a formal shake that Y/N mechanically returns. "On behalf of the Styles family, I wish you all the best. They appreciate your cooperation in this matter."

The Styles family. Not Harry specifically. Something about the phrasing nags at the back of her mind, but she's too numb to examine it closely.

After he left, Y/N sat motionless at the table, staring at the envelope containing the check.

The price tag for her heart, apparently.

As her mother shows the lawyer out, Y/N remains seated, staring blankly ahead. The tears will come back later, she knows. Right now, she's suspended in a state of shock that mercifully dulls the edges of her pain.

Her mother returns, sitting beside her and taking her hand in a gentle grip. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

Y/N turns to her, confusion and hurt warring in her expression. "He didn't even wait to tell me himself. To explain why."

Her mother's face darkens with anger. "That's not the action of someone who cared about you, despite what you told me."

The words sting because they force Y/N to confront the possibility that she'd been wrong. That the moments of tenderness, of apparent genuine connection, had been manufactured by a man accustomed to playing whatever role was required of him.

"I thought—" she begins, but her voice cracks as the first tears finally break through her shock. "I really thought he..."

She can't finish the sentence, can't admit aloud how completely she'd been fooled. Her mother pulls her into a tight embrace, murmuring soothing words as Y/N finally allows herself to break down, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

Slowly, the sadness began to recede, replaced by a building anger. How dare he? How dare Harry make her believe they had something real, only to discard her like this—sending a lawyer while she was hundreds of miles away, unable to even confront him?

Fine. If this was what Harry wanted, she'd give it to him. She wouldn't call again. She wouldn't beg for explanations. She'd take the money—money she desperately needed for her mother's medical bills—and she'd move on with her life, just as she'd always planned to do once their arrangement ended.

___

Back in London, Harry's phone chimed with an incoming call from his mother. He considered ignoring it. He wasn't in the mood for another lecture about Y/N's continued absence but reluctantly answered on the fourth ring.

"Mother," he greeted tersely, exhaustion evident in his voice.

"Harry, darling," Anne's voice was unusually warm, almost triumphant. "I’m so happy. How did you get rid of her so soon? How did you get her to not only sign but initiate the divorce"

Harry's blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

“What? You didn’t hear? Our lawyer just called and said Y/N called him and asked for the divorce papers to sign. Since you had signed them from the beginning it was easy. She even took the check. This calls for a celebration!”

Harry felt like his heart was being ripped out. It didn’t help that Grumps was purring in his lap

Harry felt the floor drop out from beneath him, his mother's words hitting like physical blows. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"What. Divorce. Papers?" he managed to get out, each word clipped and sharp.

Anne's laugh tinkled through the speaker, light and unconcerned. "Oh, don't play coy, darling. The ones you signed months at the beginning. We always kept them ready for when she inevitably showed her true colors."

Harry's mind raced, trying to make sense of what his mother was saying. Papers he'd signed months ago? He vaguely remembered signing a stack of documents Jeff had presented early in their marriage—something about asset protection that seemed standard at the time.

"You...you had divorce papers drawn up without telling me?" The realization dawned slowly, horror creeping through his veins like ice water.

"Of course I did," Anne replied, her tone suggesting this was perfectly reasonable. "I was protecting you, as I've always done. And thank goodness I did! The moment she's away from you, she's calling our lawyers, asking about money and divorce. Just as I predicted."

Grumps shifted in Harry's lap, whining softly as he sensed the tension in his human's body. Harry absently stroked the cat's head, trying to steady himself as rage and disbelief battled for dominance.

"She contacted our lawyers? When?"

"Today! Thomas just called me. Said she was surprisingly eager to sign everything. Barely even read the papers. Just wanted to know where to sign and if she could keep the money." Anne's voice dripped with satisfaction. "I told you she was only after your fortune, darling."

Harry's free hand curled into a fist, his breathing becoming shallow as the implications sank in. Something didn't add up. The Y/N who'd melted into his arms on Christmas Eve, who'd looked at him with such tenderness before leaving for her trip. That woman wouldn't do this. Not without a word of explanation. Not without at least the courtesy of a conversation.

But a treacherous voice in the back of his mind whispers: Wouldn't she? After three days of silence? After leaving with barely a backward glance? Perhaps this is the reason she hasn't called. She's been planning her exit strategy all along.

"Did she say why?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice level. "Why she suddenly wanted a divorce?"

"Does it matter?" Anne dismissed. "The important thing is we're rid of her. I've already called the PR team to prepare a statement about an amicable separation. We'll need to get ahead of any narrative she might try to spin."

"Where is she now?" he demands, pushing the doubts aside. "I need to speak with her directly."

Anne's laugh is light and dismissive. "That's the beauty of it, darling. She specifically requested no contact. Thomas said she was quite clear about that. And really, it's for the best. Clean break and all that."

Harry stops pacing, a terrible coldness spreading through his chest. "You're lying," he says again, but with less conviction this time. "This has your fingerprints all over it. What did you do, Mother?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. She wanted out. Thomas said she practically snatched the pen from his hand."

The image of Y/N eagerly signing away their marriage cuts him deeper than he would have thought possible even a few weeks ago.

"I don't believe you," he says, though uncertainty threads through his voice now. "Y/N wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't what? Take the money and run? That's exactly what that sort of girl does, Harry. I told you from the start—"

"Stop!" Harry interrupts, his voice rising to a shout that startles Grumps into darting from the room. "Don't you dare speak about her like that. You don't know her. You've never even tried to know her."

There's a loaded silence on the line before Anne speaks again, her voice tight with controlled anger.

"I know enough. And apparently, so did she. The papers are signed, Harry. It's done. You should be thanking me for facilitating such a clean exit from what was clearly becoming a messy situation."

Harry closes his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose as he tries to regain control of his emotions. The betrayal cut deeper than he'd thought possible. Had he been such a fool? Had their connection been nothing more than his imagination? The memory of Y/N's smile, the warmth of her skin against his, the way she'd promised to return to him—had it all been a lie?

"I have to go," he said abruptly, unable to bear his mother's triumphant tone for another second.

"Shall I come over? We could open that bottle of Cristal I've been saving—"

"No," he cut her off sharply. "No, I...I need to be alone right now."

He hung up without waiting for her response, letting the phone slip from his fingers onto the couch beside him. Grumps looked up, concerned by the sudden stillness that had overtaken his human.

Harry sat in stunned silence, trying to reconcile the Y/N he thought he knew with the woman his mother described. The calculating, mercenary who was only interested in what she could get from him.

It didn't track. None of it made sense. The Y/N who'd challenged him at every turn, who'd seen through his defenses and called him on his bullshit. She wouldn't take the coward's way out. She wouldn't avoid confrontation like this.

Unless...unless she'd never felt what he thought she had. Unless Christmas had been a momentary weakness, and distance had given her clarity.

The thought twisted in his gut like a knife. Harry pushed Grumps gently off his lap and stood, needing to move, to do something with the energy coursing through him. He paced the living room, mind racing between hurt, anger, and confusion.

If she wanted out so badly, why not just tell him to his face? Why the silent treatment, the sneaking around with lawyers while he'd been going out of his mind with worry?

Harry grabbed his phone again, dialing Y/N's number even knowing it was futile. The familiar automated message played: "The number you have dialed is not in service..."

Of course. How convenient.

A surge of anger propelled him across the room to the bar cart, where he poured himself a generous measure of whiskey. He downed it in one burning swallow, welcoming the heat that spread through his chest—anything to counteract the cold emptiness taking root there.

His mother's words echoed in his head: "She was surprisingly eager to sign everything." The image of Y/N calmly signing away their marriage while he'd been losing sleep over her safety made his stomach turn.

Harry poured another drink, his movements growing more aggressive as hurt crystallized into anger. Fine. If this was what she wanted, he wouldn't chase her. He wouldn't beg. He had his pride, after all—what was left of it after falling for someone who clearly saw him as nothing more than a meal ticket.

He raised his glass in a bitter toast to the empty room. "To freedom, then," he muttered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

As the alcohol began to dull the edges of his pain, Harry's phone lit up with a text from Jeff:

"Just heard from Anne. Need to discuss statement ASAP. Available tomorrow morning?"

Harry stared at the message, reality sinking in with crushing weight. This was happening. Y/N had signed divorce papers. Their marriage was over before it had really begun.

He didn't respond to Jeff's text. Instead, he took his drink and walked out to the balcony overlooking the darkened garden. The night air was cold, biting at his skin, but he welcomed the discomfort. It was better than the hollowness spreading through him.

Somewhere, miles away, Y/N was probably celebrating her newfound freedom—and wealth. The thought made him drain his glass, the burn of alcohol no match for the burn of betrayal.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

In her mother's small house, Y/N sat on the edge of her childhood bed, staring blankly at the wall. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but the tears had finally stopped, leaving behind a numb emptiness that seemed to echo through her entire body.

Her mother had offered comfort, outrage, and finally practical advice: "Sleep on it. Things often look clearer in the morning."

But Y/N doubted any amount of sleep would make this situation clearer. Harry had signed divorce papers—had them ready and waiting. While he'd been holding her, kissing her, making her believe they had a future, he'd already prepared for their end.

And he couldn't even face her himself. Instead, he'd waited until she was hundreds of miles away, vulnerable and unreachable, to send his lawyer to do his dirty work.

The betrayal cut so deep precisely because she'd begun to believe in him.

In them

She'd let down her guard, allowed herself to hope for something real, only to have that hope shattered in the most humiliating way possible.

Y/N glanced at the envelope containing the cashier's check, still sitting unopened on her nightstand. Part of her wanted to tear it up, to reject his blood money and the implications that came with it. But the practical part of her—the part that remembered her mother's mounting medical bills and the mortgage payments she'd fallen behind on. Knew she couldn't afford such a gesture.

He'd bought her, used her, and now he was discarding her with a payout. Just as their arrangement had always intended. The fact that she'd foolishly begun to believe it was more was her own fault.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would deposit the check. She would call her mother's doctor and arrange to pay off the outstanding bills. She would contact the mortgage company and bring the payments current.

And then? Then she would figure out how to piece her heart back together.

For now, though, she simply lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything she'd lost pressed down on her chest until it became difficult to breathe.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

One month crawled by, each day bleeding into the next with a sameness that should have been numbing but somehow wasn't. The pain remained fresh, a wound that refused to heal.

Harry stood at the window of his studio, guitar abandoned on the couch behind him. He'd been trying to write—something, anything to channel the maelstrom of emotions that had been his constant companion since that phone call with his mother. The pages of his notebook remained stubbornly blank, save for a few crossed-out lines, coffee stains, and tear stains.

Jeff had been pushing for a public statement about the divorce. The PR team had drafted three different versions, each more sanitized than the last.

"mutual decision"

"remain friends"

"ask for privacy during this time"

All the usual celebrity divorce platitudes that said nothing while pretending to say something.

Harry had rejected them all. Announcing the divorce felt too...final. As if speaking it into existence would somehow make it more real than it already was. As if there would be no coming back from it once the world knew.

His phone buzzed on the table, probably Jeff again, wondering why the statement wasn't approved yet. Harry ignored it, taking another sip of cold coffee instead.

Sleep had become a distant acquaintance, visiting briefly and unreliably in the small hours of the morning. Dark circles had taken up permanent residence under his eyes, and his usually meticulous appearance had given way to an unkempt beard and wrinkled clothes.

The house felt impossibly empty without her. Even with Grumps moving around, scratching occasionally at Y/N's closed closet door, the silence was deafening. Harry found himself accidentally making tea for two, setting out two plates for dinner, turning to share a thought with someone who wasn't there.

The anger had faded somewhat, leaving behind a confused hurt that was almost worse. In his darker moments, he imagined Y/N living it up somewhere, spending his money, laughing about how easily she'd played him. But those thoughts never lasted long. They didn't align with the woman he knew. The woman who'd challenged him, surprised him, seen through his carefully constructed walls.

Something still didn't add up. In his more lucid moments, usually after the first coffee of the day but before exhaustion set in again, Harry would try to piece together what had happened. His mother's triumphant tone. The divorce papers he apparently signed months ago. Y/N's sudden decision to end things without so much as a conversation.

He'd tried calling her mother's house twice more, hanging up when the answering machine picked up. Pride and hurt kept him from leaving a message. What would he even say? "Why did your daughter rip my heart out? Was any of it real?"

With a sigh, Harry picked up his phone, scrolling to his last photo of Y/N. Taken on Christmas Eve, her face illuminated by the firelight, a soft smile playing at her lips as she looked at something off-camera. His thumb hovered over the delete button, as it had dozens of times over the past month. And, as always, he couldn't bring himself to press it.

Instead, he put the phone down and reached for his guitar again. Maybe today the words would come.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

In her mother's modest house, Y/N sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by paperwork. Medical bills marked "PAID," mortgage statements showing a zero balance, and a stack of brochures from nearby community colleges.

The money from Harry had done what it was supposed to do: provide financial stability and a fresh start. Her mother's medical bills were paid in full, the mortgage was current with a buffer, and there was enough left over for Y/N to consider going back to school. Something that had seemed like an impossible dream just months ago.

By all accounts, she should have felt relieved, even happy. The weight of financial worry that had been her constant companion for years had lifted. She should have been celebrating her freedom, her new beginning.

Instead, she felt hollow. The relief of financial security couldn't fill the void that Harry's absence had left. The house that had once been her safe haven now felt like a cage, each room filled with memories she couldn't escape—her father's death, her mother's illness, and now, the bitter end of what she'd foolishly begun to believe was a real relationship.

Her mother entered the kitchen, moving much more easily now after a month of proper physical therapy. She took one look at Y/N's face and sighed.

"You're thinking about him again," she observed, not unkindly.

Y/N shook her head, gathering the papers into a neat stack. "Just organizing."

"Mm-hmm," her mother hummed disbelievingly, sitting down across from her. "You know, for someone who's supposedly relieved to be out of a fake marriage, you've been doing an awful lot of sighing and staring into space."

"I'm fine," Y/N insisted, the words so practiced they came automatically now. "Just tired."

Her mother reached across the table, placing a weathered hand over Y/N's. "Sweetheart, I've known you your entire life. I know when you're heartbroken."

Y/N pulled her hand away, standing abruptly. "I'm not heartbroken. I'm angry. There's a difference."

"Is there?" her mother asked softly.

Y/N didn't answer, busying herself with making tea she didn't want just to have something to do with her hands. The truth was, she didn't know what she felt anymore. The hurt and betrayal had become so familiar they were almost comforting in their constancy.

Her phone, a new one, with a new number, chimed with a notification. For a split second, her heart leapt with the irrational hope that somehow, impossibly, it might be Harry. But of course, it wasn't. It was just a reminder about an upcoming doctor's appointment for her mother.

Y/N stared at the screen, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment. This was her life now. Practical. Responsible. Safe. No more fantasy, no more pretending she belonged in Harry's world. To Harry

So why couldn't she stop wondering what he was doing? Why did she still reach for her phone instinctively when she saw something that would make him laugh? Why did she still wake up in the middle of the night, reaching across an empty bed for someone who had never really been hers to begin with?

The kettle whistled, startling her from her thoughts. She poured the boiling water over a tea bag, watching the color seep out in swirling tendrils. Like her life with Harry—vibrant and beautiful, but ultimately just something temporary dissolving away.

Her mother watched her with knowing eyes but said nothing more. They both knew there was nothing left to say. Whatever had happened between Y/N and Harry was over. All that remained was to move forward. Even if moving forward felt like walking through quicksand, each step requiring more energy than she had to give.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

A/N: So…the weather?

I know this is shorter than usual, but I wanted to get this one out first before proceeding with the rest. I promise it gets better 🙏🏻

hehe

Taglist: @mysunflowerposts @lydiasfalling @panini @ell0ra-br3kk3r @donutsandpalmtrees @sunshinemoonsposts @angeldavis777 @fangirl509east @maudie-duan @indierockgirrl @harryssunflower17 @lizsogolden @daphnesutton @spinninc @behindmygreyeyes @wheredidmyeyesgo @matildasatellite @drewrry @inlikea-coolway @jerseygirlinca

#fwfw #ghstyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #one direction #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles x you

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starry-hughes · 1 year ago

Text

holiday disaster (luke hughes)

day 22 of star’s ficmas

luke hughes x reader

Jack walked onto the plane first, getting his ticket scanned and walking through. Before Luke could even have his ticket scanned he was stopped. The two brothers had arrived late to the airport and were last to board the flight. “I’m so sorry sir but this flight was overbooked and there are no more seats.”

“Jacky?” Luke called. The two were supposed to be traveling home for Christmas. “Is there another flight he can take? We are going home for Christmas.”

The attendant searched for a second and Luke was panicking. “There’s a midnight flight, last flight out.” It was noon. “Lukey, you can take my seat and I can wait.”

“No it’s okay, I’ll call mom and tell her.”

Luke made himself comfortable in a corner of the airport as Jack left on the flight. He had to break the news to his mom and call her. “I won’t be making dinner mom, I’m sorry, I’ll be home for Christmas Eve morning.”

You had been staring at the screen when the flight came up as canceled. You almost burst into tears when the flight attendant told you the only flight out was a midnight flight. You were convinced you might miss Christmas. All you wanted was to go spend the holiday with your family and now you were being delayed. Neither Luke and you wanted to leave the airport, the long security lines made you just want to stay, and Luke thought the same.

“Are you using the outlet?” you asked him. Luke looked up. “No, you can use it.” Luke watched as you hurriedly took out your phone charger. “Hi mom,” you called, “I’m sorry I’ll be late, yeah… eleven pm. I hope that flight isn’t canceled.”

Luke’s ears perked up as you said that. He listened to you end the phone call. The two of you sat in silence, doing your own things before Luke cleared his throat. “Can you watch my bag? I don’t really want to take it in the bathroom with me.”

You nodded and smiled as he got up. No one bothered you while he was gone. There were so many people in the airport but it was like the two of you had your own corner of life. When Luke returned, he had two bags of food in his hands. “Thought you deserved some food.”

Luke handed you a bag from one of the fast food places along with a water bottle. “I heard your flight was canceled,” Luke said. “Yeah, flying out to my parents and the one time I want to visit, it’s canceled,” you sighed, “thank you for the food by the way. Let me pay you back.”

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. My flight got overbooked. And my brother is currently on the way to our parents without me.” You frowned, “I’m sorry.”

The two of you ate quietly, hoping the hours would go by faster. “I have a laptop, do you want to watch a movie?” you questioned Luke. Shoulder to shoulder, the two of you watched a movie. Luke dozed off on your shoulder. As the day went on, there were less and less people in the airport. As the afternoon passed, both of you would get calls from family members asking how it was going. Luke told you about hockey and his job and his brothers. You told him about your own work and family.

“Hey,” you shook him gently awake, it was six pm. “There’s a restaurant down the terminal, do you want to go get dinner?”

In the airport restaurant, the least likely place to fall in love, you started enjoying time with Luke. You both tried random foods and shared plates. Laughing over dumb stories and joking about being stuck together. At the end of the night, Luke paid the bill and you tipped the waiter well.

You two still had time before your flights. Spending time sitting together and watching another movie or snacking on chips Luke bought. You checked your phone and realized you had to start getting to your gate. “I should get to my gate,” you frowned. “Oh,” Luke said, “I’ll walk you down.”

Luke dragged his suitcase behind him as he followed you. “You should get to your gate too Luke.”

He sighed and nodded. “Can I get your phone number?” You nodded and took his phone which he unlocked for you. You added yourself as a contact and took a picture of yourself for his contact phone. “Have a safe flight (Y/N), Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Luke.” He turned and walked back to the opposite end of the terminal to his own gate smiling.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imgaine #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #hockey imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #star’s ficmas

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kryptonitejelly · 1 year ago

Text

Grease & Tequila - a Flyboy One-shot

Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader - part of the Flyboy!Universe

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Genre: romance; fluff; angst; best friends to lovers

Warnings: general hangman being hangman; sexual tension; general cursing; will contain mentions of a break up / previous relationship; general use of pet names; fem!reader; pining; general naval / flying inaccuracies; alcohol; being drunk.

Length: One-shot

Summary: Set 5 months pre the Flyboy!era. The one where Jake gets the call that you and Dan have broken up and he has to be on the next plane to New York, now.

Flyboy | Mini-Series Masterlist

(not fully updated as of today, but if you follow / search the tag “flyboy universe” / “flyboy” / “flyboy fic” / “flyboy!jake” on my tumblr you’ll find recent asks / headcannons / blurbs!)

A/N: It’s been a while, and this isn’t all that exciting, but I think it definitely (I hope) sets the scene for Flyboy and helps everything click into place.

DISCLAIMER: all work posted here is purely fanfiction; it does not in any way purport to be an accurate representation of real life or the general workings of any institution.

“Lieutenant,” Admiral Craig’s voice booms out as Jake opens the door to his office. The Admiral waits for Jake to shut the door completely before he starts up again, “I got your last minute absence request.”

“That is correct, Sir,” Jake nods, as he comes to a stand in front of the Admiral’s desk. He stands with his feet hip width apart, hands behind his back, eyes meeting the older man’s.

“Everything okay?” The Admiral asks, his gaze steady on Jake’s. It was rare for a last minute absence request to come across his desk, which meant that when they did - it was usually pressing.

“Just something I need to attend to, Sir.” Jake responds, his mask not slipping, but the Admiral hears the weight behind his words. There is a silence pause between the two men, before the Admiral picks up his pen, signing the bottom of the two sheets of paper before him with a flourish. He was never one to refuse these requests as long as he deemed them legitimate, but he made it a point of looking the requestor in the eye to make his own assessment of the situation before approving them. He didn’t need to know the why, unless it was volunteered by the requestor him/herself, but he needed to know that it wasn’t being abused and Jake Seresin, for all his ego and cockiness, was a dedicated solider. He wouldn’t ask, unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Approved,” the Admiral says simply before passing one of the sheets to Jake. Jake’s mask doesn’t crack, but the Admiral sees a twitch of relief as Jake remembers how to breathe, “Godspeed.”

“Thank you Sir.”

Jake shifts irritably in his seat as he waits for boarding to be complete. He had reached out to Grandma Doris’ personal assistant once he had gotten off the phone with you, even before he had submitted his flight request, his text to her was just one sentence, twelve words long - I need to be on the next flight to New York, please. He usually would not have bothered her, but this - this was a pressing situation, he just had to get on that plane. She had, the blessing that she was, gotten hold of two flight options for him, the next flight to New York, and the next next as a backup, both in first class no less, with a simple request to let her know when he needed a flight ticket back from New York.

“May I offer you a hot towel, Mr Seresin?” The stewardess stops beside his seat. Jake shakes his head, offering her a polite half smile.

“No thank you.”

“How about some nuts, or maybe a drink?” She tries again.

“How long more do you think it’ll be till take-off?” Jake’s question is abrupt and she is quiet for a second, slightly taken a back. He isn’t rude, but is, obviously antsy.

“I think another twenty minutes Mr Seresin,” she says as she follows his gaze out of the window.

“Thanks,” is all she gets from Jake as he continues to stare out of the window beside him as if willing take-off to come faster.

“Anything else?” The cashier of the fried chicken shop just around the corner from your apartment building asks Jake as he rings up the total on the till.

“That’s all, thanks.” Jake says as he slides his card out of his wallet before tapping it against the screen of the payment machine which is proffered to him.

“Here’s your receipt, please wait on the right.” Jake slides his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans before stepping towards the right. The tequila which he had picked up on his way out of the airport is in his backpack, the shape of the bottle pressed against his back, a reminder that he was just that much closer to what he came to New York for.

The ride up the elevators to your apartment is excruciatingly slow, and Jake taps his foot against the ground the whole way up. He hadn’t had to buzz you to let him up, managing instead to catch a couple on their way out and slip into the building - something which he made a mental note of in the back of his mind - perhaps it was time to convince you to move to somewhere with a doorman or concierge for increased safety.

The bottle of tequila is now in one of his hands, and the bag of greasy fried chicken and fries in his other - his remedy for your broken heart. Alcohol, fast food, and well, him. His eyes are fixed on the flashing red numbers as if willing the elevator to go faster. It stops with a ding, and Jake all but runs out.

He hears you before he sees you, hears faint noises and shuffling, the unlocking of a separate bolt and a lock before you pull open the door an inch to peer out past the safety chain. His eyes meet yours, and sees your eyes, glassy and red rimmed, no doubt from crying meet yours. The doors shuts fully for a second or two as you undo the safety chain before it is pulled open fully.

Jake takes you in the second the open door reveals you - the red tip of your noise, hair on top of your head in a loose, messy up do, body clad in an oversized t shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants and he feels a funny tug in his chest.

“I thought you might need this,” he says as he holds up the items in his hands. You hold his gaze for a second more, and then it happens, the glossiness in your eyes turn into tears which spill over onto your cheeks as you take a step forward, throwing your arms around Jake’s body, burying your face in his chest. Jake hears, but also feels the sobs that wrack your body against his front and he is quite sure that in that moment, the tug in his chest feels like a earth shattering crack.

“I got you,” he says gruffly, bringing both his hands down around you, while still holding onto both items. His words only intensify the sobs coming from you and all Jake can do is draw you closer.

“I’ve never liked him,” Jake snorts as he watches you down yet another shot of tequila. You are both sitting around the coffee table in the floor of your living room, greasy chicken and fries demolished, the open bottle of tequila three quarters gone - with more damage having been exacted on the bottle by you than by Jake. Jake isn’t drunk, but he definitely isn’t sober, which means that neither are you.

“He’s an asshole,” you half shout, your words slurring from the alcohol as you let your self sag backwards, leaning against the sofa before you let yourself droop sideways, your head coming to rest on Jake’s shoulder. Jake shifts, moving his arm around you. It allows you to scoot further into his side, your face turning slightly to rest against the side of his chest. You breathe in his scent, the faint smell of soap, laundry detergent and airplane along with his own natural musk, which wraps around you like home, and you feel Jake’s fingers running themselves soothingly along your arm..

“Say the word, I’ll beat him to a pulp,” Jake says, dropping the side of his cheek against the top of your head, his finger squeezing the top of your arm gently. His tone is light, joking almost - but yet not really. Nevertheless, the thought of Dan facing off against Jake makes you chuckle lowly. Dan was no slob himself, he maintained a decent level of fitness - occasional runs, regular visits to the gym, but he might as well have been one compared to Jake. Dan worked out for aesthetics, but next to Jake, who had worked out for functionality all his life, football, the Navy, Dan paled greatly in comparison.

“He’ll never stand a chance,” you say, amused as you close your eyes. Your head has started to get impossibly heavy, your tongue feels thick from the copious amounts of alcohol running through your system, and you let your head rest heavier on Jake’s chest.

“That’s the idea,” is what Jake says and it makes you giggle this time as you sink yourself further into Jake’s hold, seeking out a comforting, physical closeness. Jake can feel yourself pressing into him.

“C’mere,” he mutters, as the arm he has around you tightens. You feel movement, and Jake is reaching across your body, managing to slip an arm under your legs to pull you onto his lap.

“Jake,” your protest is weak because you don’t put up an ounce of a fight, opting instead to shift along with him so that you are comfortably nested on his lap, your ear against his shoulder, tip of your nose just about brushing the side of his neck, “I’m not a child.”

“Mmm,” Jake simply hums in agreement with your words, both his arms coming to form a loose, protective cocoon around you.

You both sit in a comfortable silence, a haze of alcohol enveloping you both. Truth to be told, the break up, the serial cheating - it all hadn’t come as a surprise to you. You had suspected on many occasions, but it had been easier to ignore and live in denial than to face the truth after 3 years of being with the same person. It had broken you for many reasons, and it still hurt like hell to lose a constant presence with which you had spent the past 3 years with, but you weren’t all that sure it had broken your heart, not when your relationship had been fizzling out for a while and you’ve suspected for months.

“He wasn’t good enough for you, you know,” Jake says as he turns his head slightly, managing to plant a half kiss on the side of your temple.

“You say that with every break up,” you laugh dismissively, “that’s what best friends are supposed to say.”

Your words make Jake frown and he moves himself to move you, making you sit up sideways on his lap so that he can look you in the eye. Your are slightly elevated from being seated on his thigh, and you find yourself staring down, holding his gaze. You slide the palms of your hands past his shoulders to steady yourself.

“They were all not good enough for you,” is what he says, unwavering as he holds your gaze. From your sideways position, you can feel one of Jake’s hands sliding around your back, and coming to rest on your waist, and the other coming to rest loosely across your lap.

“Or maybe I wasn’t good enough for them,” you say with a rueful quirk of your lips, letting yourself drown in alcohol induced post break-up self pity. Your words only make Jake’s brows furrow together, a flash of irritating passing through his eyes. It makes him move the arm hanging across your lap up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing the space just below your eye. You let yourself luxuriate in the warm against your cheek, leaning into his hold. You see Jake’s gaze dart from your eyes to your lips, but the fuzziness of your mind doesn’t let you overthink at just how intimate the moment between you both is.

“You are too good for all of them,” is what he says. You see a flash of something in Jake’s eyes, and perhaps if you were sober, it would have been something you could more accurately place, but you can’t.

“I want to go to bed,” you say, your exhaustion suddenly hitting you and you let your eyes close, weight of your head still balancing on Jake’s hand.

“Ok,” is all he says as his thumb continues to move gently across your skin.

“Come with me?” You say, your ask clear, you didn’t want to be alone - it was simple, nothing more, no innuendo and you knew that Jake would understand.

“Ok,” he repeats as he finally drops his arm from your cheek.

Jake has a hand behind his head, eyes fixed up on the ceiling of your bedroom. You had fallen asleep the moment your head hit the pillow, no doubt attributable to all the tequila you had ingested, but also a sure sign at just how exhausted you were. He had taken a quick shower, ridding himself of whatever traces of airplane he had left on him, before tugging on the pair of shirt and shorts he had brought along with him and, true to his word - gotten into bed with you. There was no way in hell was he allowing you to wake up alone.

He lets the soft hum of your snores wash over him, and Jake tilts his head down to watch the rise and fall of your body from where it is curled up beside him in a fetal position under the covers. You look at peace, finally - but he can see the sunken skin beneath your eyes, a tell tale sign that not all was well.

“Baby,” he sighs, murmuring to himself, the term of endearment slipping too naturally from his lips, as you shift, your body finding its way a few inches closer to him. He doesn’t hesitate, removing the arm from behind his head to caress the side of your cheek. Your snores stop, turning instead to an sleep exhale of content, and in that moment, it strengthens Jake’s resolve. He feels the gears shift in his brain and chest, feelings that he had kept at bay in the recesses of his mind and heart for months, years, coming to shore. He had spent the past 3 years watching you fumble your way around with Dan, and even more before that with different men that you had dated, but it was enough - fuck that. He was sick of watching them hurt you, breaking your heart when you deserved so, much, more. Jake wasn’t going to let that happen again. The next person you dated was going to be your last, the person you dated, was going to be him.

“Text me when you land,” you twist your fingers around, interlocking them with each other as you and Jake stand on the sidewalk outside your apartment, waiting for his car to pull up.

“I will,” he says while watching you twist your fingers together. You weren’t ready for him to leave, and neither was he - ready for himself to leave, but the days since his arrival on Thursday night had blown past, and Sunday had come too soon, “text me whenever you need,” he says as he extends an arm, pulling you sideways into him. His action makes you stumble slightly, and you reach out with a hand, to grab him around his waist.

“I will,” your response is a parrot of his. It had been a great past few days, once you had gotten over the hangover that hit you both, but you harder, on Friday morning. Jake had forced you out of the house for two whole days of everything and nothing - strolls around the city all while forcing you to thread your arm through his, making sure you filled your stomach with an assortment of food, watching bad television together in your apartment. He had filled your space with laughter, familiarity, and physical touch when you needed it most and you weren’t ready for him to leave.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, leaning sideways towards you to brush his lips against the top of your head. Jake lets his lips linger for a second or two, and you let your eyes close - letting yourself be vulnerable, enjoying the moment.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” you voice is soft, small almost, the truth of your words both a happy feeling for Jake, but also a stab to his heart.

“I wish I didn’t have to either,” he says gruffly, removing his lips from the top of your head to pull you into a bone crushing full frontal hug. He could see a car approaching from the end of the road, his time with you dwindling now to just mere seconds, “I’ll see you soon,” he says, a statement, not a question as you cling onto him in similar fashion.

“Soon,” you echo, a promise between you both.

“So how long are you leaving your girlfriend for?” The driver asks his question conversationally as he pulls away form the sidewalk. Jake’s gaze lingers on you as he raises a hand to wave goodbye. He sees you offer a lopsided smile and a similar wave of your hand.

“I don’t know,” he admits to the driver without much thought, not bothering to correct him. Jake keeps his gaze trained on you until he is no longer able to.

“Hopefully you’ll see her again soon,” is what the driver continues with conversationally, “she looks crushed that you’re leaving.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” is all Jake can say as he settle back into the seat of the cab, his mind far away, his heart still with you.

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deadhands69 · 5 months ago

Text

Flight Headcanons: My Hero Academia

My Hero Academia x Reader

Who's the best/worst to sit next to on a flight?

Sits Quietly, Doesn't Touch You

Jiro, Tokoyami, Todoroki.

Jiro and Tokoyami will sit quietly and listen to music for the whole flight. Shouto will sit quietly, staring straight forward but without any entertainment. At some point, you'll start to wonder if he fell asleep with his eyes open but he's perfectly responsive when needed and orders green tea from the flight attendant.

Sits Quietly ... Just Don't Touch Them

Bakugo.

It's all fine as long as he gets the window seat and you're not asking to step over him every twenty minutes. Otherwise, he's probably listening to music quietly or sleeping.

Quiet, but Fidgety

Tsuyu, Iida.

Probably won't talk your ear off (unless you want to talk) but might not like sitting still for too long.

Passes Out Before the Plane Takes Off

Aizawa, Shinso, Recovery Girl.

The perfect seat neighbors. I will absolutely die on this hill.

Conversational, but Doesn't Touch You

Kirishima, All Might, Mirio, Hawks, Present Mic.

Want a polite conversation with someone who (probably) won't invade your space the whole flight? You picked the right seat!

Okay, Present Mic might be a bit more than light conversation if he gets excited.

ALL UP IN YOUR SPACE

Mina, Hagakure, Hatsume, Kaminari.

The first three are exited. The'll giggle, lean over you, and possibly fall asleep on your shoulder if it's a really long flight.

This may or may not be cute depending on if you're into it.

Denki just boarded and already has his seat back, shoes off, and he's spilling over the arm rest. Oh, and he forgot his headphones. Can he borrow yours?

Again, maybe you're into it?

Best at Comforting You

Ochaco, Momo, Koda.

Ochaco is great to sit next to if you're afraid of flying, Momo is there for you if you forgot anything, and Koda might even let you hold his service animal!!!

Needs to be Comforted

Midoriya, Amajiki.

Deku is probably afraid of flights and made up for it by staying up all night reading about how airplanes work. In his nervousness, he's quietly rambling about all of his knowledge to be "reassuring." Really, he just needs you to say it'll be okay.

Suneater might be afraid of flying. Or you. Or both. Either way, he's staring at his lap and will not look up until the plane lands.

CONCERNING

Shigaraki, Dabi.

I would love to sit by Shigaraki or Dabi on a flight, but it's worth noting that your survival is entirely dependent on their ability to control their quirks/not touch a window or anything.

But let's be honest, neither of them would make it past airport security.

50/50

Aoyama, Mineta.

Aoyama is polite (even if he's a bit odd.) However, he seems like the type to eat something weird and smelly on a flight. Like a really stinky cheese or something.

Mineta is perfectly quiet, holds still, and takes up so little space. The catch? He paid for the wifi to watch hentai the entire flight. Have fun with that!

honestly, idk who i'd sit by. a lot of good options! who would you sit with?

masterlist

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huggybearluvr · 10 months ago

Text

"So let me get this straight you've been dating some hockey star from Vancouver for the last six months in secrecy..." you trailed off taking in the dump of words that just spilled from your best-friends mouth, " And now we are spending a two weeks at his families lake house in Michigan?"

"Yes, Quinn invited the both of us to come to Michigan for two weeks this summer," She stated as she pulled out both of your suitcases.

"Wait- how does he know I exist?"

"We've been dating for six months and you don't think I've told him about my bestfriend?"

"fair, when are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow ten am," She smiled as she passed you your suit case.

"So now im dropping everything to come to Michigan with you?" You asked.

"Yes." She smiled happily dragging her suit case to her room as you did the same.

The next morning you woke up to Gianna banging on your bedroom door that you had to leave in 20 minutes if you wanted to stop and get star-bucks.

You quickly pulled the comforter off you slipping into some sweatpants a tank grabbing your zip up just incase it was cold on the plane.

You dragged your suitcase out following Gianna down to her car. You both loaded up the jeep heading off the the airport.

"Here's your ticket, I don't think we can sit together since I missed early check in," She frowned handing you the aisle seat leaving her with the middle. She knew you hated the middle and preferred the aisle.

You took the ticket following her up to the boarding line.

You checked in with the attendant and headed onto the plane. You found your seat throwing you carry on into the overhead and tucking your back pack under the seat infront of you.

You looked over to see a women in her mid 30's at the window and you secretly crossed your fingers that no one would have the middle seat.

Gianna was only a few rows behind you squished between too teenagers. You definitely got the better seat. As boarding was coming to a close you watched as two men about your age rushed onto the plane.

They walked the aisles looking for their seats. The taller blonde boy, smiled down at you, "I'm in the middle," He spoke softly.

You smiled back nodding as you stood up to allow him into his seat.

Once he had settled into his seat you sat back down. Opting to put your headphones on and relax.

As your plane had landed at the airport you waited for them to allow you to get off.

Once the flight attendant had given you the go ahead you stepped out into the aisle.

"I think I might have thrown my stuff on top of your's if you want me to grab mine first?" The boy beside you asked following you stepping into the aisle.

"Sure," You smiled as you stepped back allowing him to remove his bad. He placed it down in the walk way beside him, before reaching back up to grab you bag. He placed it down gently infront of you with a smile.

"I'm Luke by the way," He smiled.

"y/n," You smiled back before turning to look behind you Gianna was stuck a few rows back. 'meet me outside.' you mouthed to her as you followed the line of people off the plane.

Gianna had joined you outside the plane and you both made your way to the baggage claim.

"Quinn is picking us up he should be somewhere around here," She spoke looking around the baggage claim area.

"Okay, I think ours is over there," You said pointing over to the claim area for your flight.

The pair of you headed over that way when Gianna spotted her boyfriend and ran over there.

You watched as she clung to him as if it were her last chance to ever hug him. You laughed to yourself as you walked over.

"Y/n, this is Quinn, Quinn this is Y/n," She spoke turning to face you as his arm draped around her waist.

"It's nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about you," He said with a soft smile.

"It's nice to meet you too," You smiled.

"Alright you two stay in this area and find your bags, I am gonna go try and find my brothers, they were on your flight," He smiled as he turned to walk around the claim area to find his two brothers.

"So, how was your flight?" You asked knowing that she was squished between to teenage boys who had to get multiple warnings from the flight attendants to quiet down.

She rolled her eyes before answering, "it was terrible, how about you? I saw you chatting it up with the guy next to you," She smiled nudging your arm.

"Just friendly, Gianna, I am never gonna see that guy ever again," You spoke as you pulled your bag off the belt.

Once Gianna had hers you returned to the spot Quinn had told you guys to stay around. It wasn't long before he reemerged through the crowd to boys following behind him.

"Gianna, Y/n, these are my brothers Jack and Luke," He spoke as he returned to Giannas side taking her suitcase from her.

You looked up from your phone to see the boy you had met earlier, he was already looking at you, you smiled softly.

"Hey it's nice to meet you guys," Gianna spoke with a smile.

"Lukey, here has already met Y/n, isn't that right Luke," jack spoke playfully hitting his younger brother on the back as he cheeks turned a pale shade of pink.

---

Series Masterlist

#luke hughes #nhl x reader #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes insta edit #luke hughes x y/n

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queers-gambit · 2 years ago

Text

Dornish Wine, Weddings, and Bruised Knuckles

prompt: your best friend's getting married and you've got a thing for her brother. during the bachelorette party, you learn maybe your affection wasn't so one-sided after all.

pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x female!reader -> also Helaena Targaryen x Cregan Stark

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 11.1k+

warnings: modern AU, cursing, male-centric aggression, mild violence, (more) against-a-wall smut, author uses writing as therapy so theres way too many details, implied character-age-up (they're all legal to drink), barely edited so be nice, author probably missed some warnings!

Dorne wasn't just the Seventh Kingdom that withheld against conquest the longest, but now extremely notorious for their epic party scene, luxury resorts, sex-positive atmosphere, and overall debauchery. Dorne was lively, Dorne was hip, Dorne was ever-changing and always current. Dorne set trends, created challenge, and showcased their always-evolving lifestyle. Dorne was bright, colorful, tropical, and forever warm to the bone; being the ideal hot-spot for those who had money to spend.

Dorne was where everything happened.

Dorne was the place to be.

Dorne was exactly the thing you needed after finishing an over-worked, grueling finals season at your university.

When you and your best friend met for coffee nearly a full year ago to tell you she and her fiancé were thinking of a destination wedding in Dorne, you felt your excitement spike to never-before-reached heights. You would've been ashamed at how fast you jumped at the chance to travel, but you didn't have the time! You've never been to Dorne, hardly anywhere really, but going to university in the country's capital meant you interacted with a lot of international peers. Many who told you endless stories about their drunken foolishness in the Seventh Kingdom, driving up your interest and want to visit.

And now the time had finally come.

"My family's already there," Helaena told you softly; both sitting in the exclusive first class cabin after boarding the aircraft, "so we'll have transport when we land, so we just have to worry about our luggage."

You nodded at her, "Sounds good."

She offered you a look, laughing, "Just say it - I know you want to."

You glanced up and down the aisle of the plane before quickly squealing and jogging in place, "This is so fucking cool!" Helaena laughed as you calmed down, telling her, "I feel so fucking fancy right now, you have no idea! I can't believe your dad's doing all this!"

You and Helaena were traveling together because you, one, you were her bridesmaid, and two, you had a similar final exam schedule; both pursuing advanced degrees that kept you wildly busy. So her family went ahead to the resort to make sure everything was as it needed to be, and now that you were both done with exams, you were heading for Dorne to kick off 10 full days of wedding shenanigans.

When you calmed down, Helaena asked with a small smirk, "You gonna be okay?" You held up a pill bottle with an eye roll, giving it a shake; emitting a rattle. "Oh, no... No, no, no, no, no, don't take an Ambien. You're gonna be so delierious when we get there!"

"I either drug myself now or you clean anxious puke off your lap later..."

She handed you her water bottle.

The entire craft was in the air within minutes; being able to recline your seat since you were flying fancy, covering up with the blankets the pretty flight attendant offered. With earbuds in, you let Helaena lift the arm rest to lean her head on your shoulder in a snuggle, shutting your eyes, and that was honestly that.

Sure, when you woke, you were groggy and a little confused, but when you remembered where you were, all sleepiness evaporated into vibrating-excitement. You were allowed to disembark first, grab your luggage, and instantly located the sleek, tinted SUV that Helaena's father had sent for you.

Long gone were any Ambien side effects, your heart elated by the sights of Dorne you drove past. Oh, it was all so beautiful. So new. So stunningly busy. "Here!" Helaena beamed, holding her phone up and making you both pose for couple of sillier selfies before smiling sweetly for the camera for another few saved photos.

"Look, look!" You gasped, pointing to the street vendors. "That man actually has a snake on a leash! Holy shit!"

"Pretty normal here, Miss," the driver spoke stoically.

Helaena laughed, "This is so cool! Look, look at those!"

"Oh, we'll have to come back," you grinned, looking at the array of handmade purses and bags another vendor was selling. The rest of the ride was very similar, just the two of you gasping and grinning and pointing out everything you found interesting or alluring.

Upon arrival to the Sun Spear Spa and Resort (and Casino), you were blown away by the immaculate detail and decor. It was open, breathable, modern, and vast. There were three pools, direct and private beach access, six different restaurants, guided tours, several different bars planted in every corner of the resort. The walls were high, and inside, it was like stepping into a whole new world; lush green plants spewing everywhere; glass ceilings that let in all the light; marble flooring and a light perfume in the air.

"Hi," you beamed at the concierge. "We're checking in for the Stark-Targaryen wedding."

"Hi, welcome, welcome to Sun Spear! May I have your names?" The man asked in an upbeat tone, typing when you told him. He smiled and revealed, "The rest of your party has already arrived, but I have here your key cards." He handed Helaena a tiny envelope with her set of keys before offering you the same. After consulting the room numbers, you thanked the man with the name tag 'Robb' before rushing for the elevators.

"Can you believe it!?" Helaena squealed.

"Barely," you laughed, pouting dramatically. "Awh! Feels like yesterday I was introducing you and Cregan. Now we're checked into the resort you're getting married at, and it honestly doesn't feel real yet."

"Maybe it'll sink in later," she mused, moving to enter the elevator when the doors opened - but stuttered in step. "BROTHER!"

You gasped when Helaena surged past you to launch into someone's arms and knock them both half a step back onto the elevator. After a stunned moment, you recognized the long white hair adorned with a leather strap and felt your stomach plummet. You know how people say 'butterflies in my tummy' when talking about the person they like? Yeah, no, the sentiment is understood and appreciated but it's not entirely accurate. It was more like an anxious stomach-sinking feeling; churning, nauseating almost.

You smiled politely when Helaena let go and Aemond glanced up at you. He spoke your name cooly, blinking twice before seemingly remembering where he was. "Here," he offered, reaching out of the elevators to grab your suitcases.

"Thanks," you tried to laugh lightly, luggage all loaded into the death machine.

"'S good to see you," he directed at you, Helaena leaning into his side. "You look nice."

You waved him off, "Oh, you're so sweet, but you're obviously lying. I'm in my airport clothes, just spent, like, 8 hours on a plane, and I know I look as tired as I feel."

"Still," he eased softly, "beauty doesn't know tired." You didn't get to answer his compliment because when you got to Helaena's floor, the doors opened to reveal a grinning Cregan - it being obvious she had texted him and he came to greet her.

"They're so fucking cute," you whispered.

"A little too cute," Aemond answered at the same level; you both sharing a smirk.

After brief greetings to Cregan and parting words to the couple with promises to text everyone later with plans, you and Aemond continued on your way to your floor in the elevator. "You don't have to walk me to my room, you know," you told him softly.

"I know, but what kinda guy passes on the opportunity to aid a pretty lady?"

"Oh, that was smooth," you teased, snorting in amusement. "I'll give you that one."

"C'mon," he eased, the doors opening again and the pair of you striding out. "I'm actually in the room next to you, looks like," he glanced at his own door as you used your key card.

"Good, I'll have someone to help do my hair," you teased, letting him pass because he held everything and you, only your purse. Hey, he offered!

Aemond chuckled, setting your belongings down and dismissing himself, "I'll let you get settled and see you later, yeah?"

"Yeah, I just want to wash the travel off me. Wanna meet in the lobby before dinner tonight?"

"Why don't I just pick you up and we go down to dinner together?"

"Woah, but it's such a long walk for you. I don't want you going out of your way," you snickered, watching his lips twitch in a grin.

"I'll see you tonight, sweetheart."

When Aemond slipped out of your room, you giggled to yourself. You just couldn't help it; hands clasping together in glee and merriment over the banter you exchanged; feeling so very girly, and while so silly, it was a welcomed feeling. And did he ask you out? No, not really, but you couldn't help but romanticize his offer to pick you up before the family dinner that evening.

You ripped open your suitcase and the chaos began; being the only person in your room meaning throwing around what you wanted wherever you wanted without disturbing others. You brought way too many clothes but you were glad you did - needing options for the different events.

You picked an outfit, scurried into the bathroom, gawked at the interior for a long moment (it was a huge bathroom for a single room), and then got the shower turned on to heat up. In the meantime, you laid out your toiletries and products and tools, then stepping into the hot shower and literally moaning from relief.

"Ohhhhh yeaaaah, baby, that's it!" You groaned through a laugh. "Is this what water pressure is? Shit, this is nice. Gods bless it," you turned so the stream was on your chest, humming again. "I can't go home ever again, can I? Nope, probably not. This kind of water pressure would literally injure a child in King's Landing, they'd never allow this kind of luxury."

You tweaked the knob, upping the temperature, and sighing when the steam swirled around you; moaning again. You were unaware that Aemond had double-backed, pausing at your door when he heard you and swallowing harshly. He glanced down and glared at the tent pitching in the front of his jeans, but then you moaned again and his single eye fluttered shut. He retreated to his room before he spent his load right then and there.

You've never done this before, but that shower was so mesmerizing, you were in there for 56 straight minutes - with zero regrets. And now, you had the distinct pleasure to prepare for dinner with your best friend's family; including her brother, who you were deeply attached to; wildly attracted to; and wanted to impress by looking more than good tonight.

You wanted to look delectable. You wanted to look stunning. You wanted to be looked at as if a five-course meal.

With that in mind, you stepped out of the shower and got to work.

Three definitive knocks announced his arrival, and honestly, you could've cried from anxiety. You figured you couldn't wait much longer after doing a fourth once-over in the mirror, couldn't look any better if you tried, and proceeded to yank the door open. "Hey," you chirped, readjusting your earring back.

"Shit," Aemond blinked as his single eye raked you up and down; leather eyepatch matching his leather belt and shoes. His button-up was black, unbuttoned at the top to show off his two thin silver chains, both at varying lengths; wearing easy black jeans.

"Hi," you mused, purse under your arm as you made sure to shut the heavy door after checking your keycard was where you needed it to be. "You look handsome, loving the monochromatic look."

"It's one of the many colors gracing my wardrobe," Aemond teased. "And if anyone should have a compliment, it's you, doll, I mean, just wow," his hand snatched yours to hold onto yours fingers and gave you a twirl while whistling. "This dress is a little short, no? Not that I'm complaining, I just know Aegon..." He teased, still holding your hand to yank you into his side; arm lazily tossing around your shoulders as he moved you off for the elevators.

"Your brother isn't a worry of mine," your eyes rolled, "not since I caught him..."

"Doing?"

"Nothing," you sang, punching the elevator door rapidly.

"Hey, now," he turned you so you were pressed to the cold, metal doors, "if it's about my family, I have a right to know."

"Only if it's dangerous or otherwise," you breathed. "Trust me, he's not in trouble, he's just... Busy...?"

"Where did you catch him?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Does to me."

"You're gonna make fun of him, no."

Aemond sighed, hearing the metal contraption arrive and easily stepped back; pulling you with him just as the doors opened behind you. He simply held your wrists and then drove you backwards, chuckling to himself when you pouted up at him and yanked your hands from his. "Still don't like your personal space invaded, huh?" He laughed, giving you space after hitting the lobby's floor.

"Who the fuck does?"

He nodded in agreement. "Where did you catch Aegon?"

Your eyes rolled, "Nope."

When you arrived in the lobby, you and Aemond were still bickering back and forth; all the way to the restaurant of choice that evening. You ran into Jace and Luke - Aemond's nephews - but didn't wait for them to join you; understanding the tension due to Luke's recklessness costing Aemond's eye.

"Hey," you mumbled to him when he went rigid about the lads, "you're okay. You're gonna be okay, it's okay, just ignore them."

He huffed hot air through his nose, nodding stiffly, and then following you to the reserved "party room" - being a private dining patio. When you arrived, there was a round of cheering, both you and Aemond being greeted, and when you looked, there was only 4 seats - both beside one another.

"Here," Aegon beamed, tugging the chair beside him out.

"C'mon," Aemond whispered, leading you to your chair; pulling it out, offering you to sit before he joined. Before you sat, you greeted Aegon, taking the advantage to whisper in his ear,

"Secret's still safe but Aemond knows something's up." You offered him a pointed look before smiling at Aemond and taking the seat he offered you. Beside you was Aemond and Helaena, and beside him, you and Aegon; Cregan on Helaena's side and Robb Stark on Aegon's other side.

After Jace and Luke arrived, the toasting began. Wine was poured, helpings dolloped to plates, cutlery scraped plates, and over it all, Alicent stood to her feet, "Well," she sighed, nodding at the table, "just let me say: welcome to the wedding of my daughter, Helaena, and her incredible fiancé, Cregan, who I believe has always been meant to join our family. I speak on behalf of my husband," she smiled at her decrepit husband, "Viserys, and I, and we just want to thank everyone who came all this way. Welcome to the start!"

After the obligatory sip, she offered, "Any others?"

The table glanced at one another, so, you stood and cleared your throat. "I'd like to offer a toast," you smiled as Alicent sat. "Watching Helaena and Cregan in the time we've all been friends has truly, truly, truly been a one-of-a-kind experience because how often do you get to witness two people who are meant to be, find each other? Like a puzzle, they are two halves of a whole, and while perhaps a little rough around the edges, still has a perfect fit. Thank you for inviting me, but mostly, thank you, Cregan," you smiled at the groom, "for being a one-of-a-kind man, because our Helaena deserves the absolute best. It brings us all peace and joy to know she will be loved and protected - as she deserves. However," you paused, "I also want to thank Helaena because, as friend to you both, it's been refreshing to see my mate be treated as he deserves, too. To Helaena and Cregan - our perfect puzzle pieces!"

Another round of applause and sips of wine.

Viserys toasted Cregan's strength and Helaena's bravery - saying they made a handsome couple. Something that made Aemond's eye meet your own with soft smiles.

Best man, Harwin Strong, toasted the beauty of young Helaena and how a "sorry sod" like Cregan would never deserve a woman like her, but so long as neither of them forgot that, everything should work out. You felt Aemond's pinky finger reach out to stroke your own resting on the table, and again, you met his gaze with a much shier attention than before.

Sansa Stark thanked everyone for the amazing time so far, loving their generosity and attention to detail. She toasted to loving your best mate first, how that will always make for a much better relationship; and how Helaena and Cregan just make having a relationship look easy, it was truly inspiring. This time, however, Helaena started to tear up a little and you reached into your purse to produce tissues for her; missing the way Aemond stared at you with a longing expression. Yet Aegon did not, nudging his brother and muttering, "Just ask her out already, for fuck's sake. She's not gonna bite."

Aemond swatted him away, taking a much longer pull of wine than the others taking an obligatory sip of wine.

A few others gave speeches, too, but you were drastically annoyed by Jace and Luke, sitting with their girlfriends, all snickering together over any and every congratulatory sound. They thought they were being quiet, yet they were anything but; the entire table eventually hearing them and offering glares that went ignored by the youngsters. You felt tension rolling off Aemond in suffocating waves, frowning when you noted a few Starks exchange unamused looks at the show of blatant disrespect. You were just about to open your mouth to tell them off when all of a sudden, after groomsman, Robb Stark, sat down, Aemond's fist punched the table to aid his standing movement.

He played it off by fluidly lifting his goblet.

"Final tribute," he spoke stoically, staring directly across the table at his nephews, "before we turn to our meals this evening, is hoisted in honor of the entire Targaryen brood. Tonight, we do not mourn the loss of a sister, but the gain of a brother, and I think it only fair we offer the same curtesy they've always shown us - respect."

"Aemond," Alicent warned.

"You've shown us all what love is," he told the couple. "How to keep it alive, how to remain level, patient, kind, resolute, and how to compromise." His eye flickered to yours, continuing, "Making us all envy the connection... The friendship you share, the time spent together - growing and nurturing one another. It's not everyday you're able to marry the right person at the right time," he half smirked, "someone you think understands you better than anyone else." He blinked, then cleared his throat, "And yet, I've always heard there's no bond like that of family - those you share blood with. Tonight, it wasn't Cregan who proved me wrong..."

"Aemond, don't," you mumbled when you heard Helaena sigh sadly.

"Hm," he seemed to change his mind, and instead, raised his cup in the air. "To my sister, the most beautiful bride and her very own Prince Charming - to Helaena and Cregan! May it be a long and happy marriage that we continue to envy through the ages."

"Here, here - "

"But also to our nephews, Jace and Luke," Aemond cut off the responses - the entire table stilling with confusion.

"Us?" Jace asked softly, "What for, Uncle? We are not the ones getting married."

"Well, since you found it appropriate to whispering during every speech, I figured why not just give you the attention you so obviously need."

The younger crowd at the table all oooh'ed in union while the older adults tried to diffuse the tension. You simply reached out to grab Aemond's elbow and pull him back into the chair beside you; frowning when he only smirked. "That wasn't very nice," you reprimanded softly.

"Needed said," he shrugged.

Alicent and Rhaenyra, mother of Jace and Luke, Aemond's older half-sister, were bickering in anger about Alicent's son disrespecting her own - but Alicent countered that Nyra's sons disrespected her daughter by their chattering. The tension melted into the night, everyone moving about their business; seemingly sweeping the tension under the rug, dishing up dinner and starting fresh conversation.

Your own peaceful talk with Cregan's uncle, Ned Stark, was interrupted when you jumped as a hand boldly laid on your mid-thigh. You covered your surprise with a dab of your cloth napkin to your mouth, looking discreetly to the warm fingers grasping your flushing flesh; then trailing your gaze up to the owner of said hand. Aemond casually ate with his other hand, a smirk pulled on his lips; never looking down at you, but wriggling his hand a little to make you squirm.

It felt so fucking good to be touched by him like this.

Even if it was minimal, fleeting; barely there and never-lasting. You savored the feel, the heat, the way a single, simple touch made your stomach twist in knots and heat to flush your skin.

However, when his hand slid up your thigh to push the hemline of your dress - your hand slapped down to halt his movements. You moved his hand back down to your limit, patted twice, and let go, distracted by Ned Stark's alluring baritone, accented voice. He took the hint and only touched you at your limit, still too casual for your liking; leaving you alone in your burning-desire state. If only you knew that Aemond was having just as hard a time as you - thinking you had the softest skin he's ever held before.

Soft, shaved - or is it waxed? - moisturized, and basically calling to him that he needed to get a handful. He helped himself.

You almost moaned when he curled his finger to your inner thigh; an embarrassing gush of arousal seeping from your cunt at the slightest movement from the handsome, silver-haired, one-eyed dickhead known as your best friend's brother. Yet you didn't give him the satisfaction of reacting beyond that, all too happy to listen to the others chatter away. He didn't push you too far, and yet, never once removed his hand - almost entranced by the feel of your warmth.

When dinner was brought out, Helaena and Cregan stood and everyone - yes, everyone this time - silenced themselves to listen. Sitting back in your chair, you slowly let both your hands come around Aemond's one; just holding his forearm as you listened to your besties thank everyone for their efforts and appearance during their nuptials.

When he didn't shy away from your show of silent affection, you let your hand drift to hold his bare wrist; frowning when his arm contracted in movement. However, your frown turned into an easy, relieved smile when he only moved to fold his hand into yours; fingers interlaced, resting on your lap to let your other hand cover your conjoined ones.

"And to my beautiful bride," Cregan purred, turning to Helaena, "I hope this is all you've ever wanted, exactly as you've imagined it... Because giving you the wedding of your dreams is top priority. To see your friends and family come together has been truly incredible, and I hope the rest of these celebrations are exactly that - a celebration as you've always dreamt it'd be. I'd give you whatever you'd ask for, you know," he grinned, the hand in your tightening. When you met Aemond's eye, Cregan continued, "You're all I could've dreamed of, and at the end of this week, we'll have the rest of our lives together - something I only ever thought was possible in my dreams. You're all I want in this life, and I'll spend the rest of ours being worthy of you."

Aemond squeezed your hand, you returning it as you beamed at your best mates kissing; the table cooing at their adorable antics while you snuck a glance at Aemond. His head was cocked down at an angle, smiling down at you, looking all too soft and kind for his usual demeanor. You couldn't look away once you made eye contact, staring at one another, lips slowly curling in a bright grin as his hand tightened in yours.

The following evening breezed in with the tropical wind, and after an hour and a half, you were pecking off room service platters you had delivered and used plastic cups to drink the Dornish sweet wine from the bottle your friend had gone to the bar to get. Sansa Stark made sure your hair was in order before she pulled her long, red strands up in a high-teased ponytail; complimenting the way her bright Tully blue eyes were rimmed in a smudged-liner. You made sure you both ate a significant amount before starting to drink - wanting to loosen up as you finished getting ready together.

She wore something from your closet, you wore something of hers. With everything you needed in your purse, you latched your heels on and took your phones off chargers. "The cabs are here!" Sansa mocked, making you sputter a small laugh. This side of her was a breath of fresh air, knowing that truly, if anyone deserved a feel-good night out, it was Sansa.

So, you made the decision to stay sober - you know, so she could drink under a safe eye. However, after double checking for hotel key cards, ID's, cash, debit cards, the paper bag of bride-to-be merch, and whatever else you deemed necessary, you left the room, and was surprised to see some of the guys leaving their rooms, too.

"Hey," You greeted the best man, Harwin Strong, "what're you guys doing?"

"God daaaaaaamn," he whistled, "lookin' good ladies!" He smirked, looking you up and down, "We're heading out to some clubs and bars, too, princess."

Your eyes rolled in good humor, "Okay, yeah, sure, where are you really going?"

"Out," he nodded, following you to the elevators. "Seriously, there's a couple places we wanna check out. By the looks of things, y'all had the same idea, huh?"

You smiled as Sansa answered, "Yeah, it was last-minute. Kinda like a bachelorette thing."

"That explains all that, huh?" Harwin snickered, pointing at your paper bag.

"Don't be a hater 'cause you didn't think of it," you teased.

He hummed, "You both look really gorgeous tonight, by the way. Just incredible, I mean, Sansa, this dress is - just wow!"

Sansa flushed, letting you thank him for you both as she seemed a little tongue-tied. However, when you made it to the lobby, it was a semi-chaotic scene as the entire bridal party had gathered to share mutual rambunctious excitement. After joining in and greeting everyone, you set the paper bag down and started to dress Helaena in the obnoxious bridal garb.

"Here," Sansa giggled, handing out different paraphernalia to each lady, "just for a few pictures!"

Nobody objected. Robb had no problem taking a load of photos; some with you all posing and others more candid. It was all in good fun, the cab driver even offering to take a large group photo of the entire bridal party; encouraging a few different poses and giving you a thumbs up when done.

"Hey," Aemond approached you as you stood to the side and texted your mother, assuring everything was okay on your vacation, "haven't seen you since dinner last night."

"I know," you pouted lightly, "I'm sorry I've been a little MIA, we had an all-day spa day today."

"And here I was thinking you were avoiding me, huh?" He mused, but you heard the underlying insecurity to his voice.

"Not even close to the truth, Aems," you promised.

"So, uh," he glanced at the guys before back at you, asking, "it's just you ladies going out tonight, right?"

"Mhm," you nodded, trying not to break apart under his gaze.

"Without... Someone there?"

"I mean, we'll all be there, looking out for each other," you offered Aemond a confused smile, "and I'm not drinking, so I'll make sure everyone's safe."

"You think that's a good idea?"

"Why not?"

"New country plus drinking, I mean, sounds pretty accident-prone."

"We'll be okay, I'll stay sober and keep an eye out, make sure nobody breaks an ankle or two like last Halloween."

He looked at the bridal party, musing, "You're going to keep hold of five drunks?"

You paused for a long moment, not putting much thought behind logistics. "I think I can manage," you admitted with uncertainty. "They're not that bad. I mean, Arya's small enough to haul over my shoulder; Helaena never drinks too much, I think I have it covered best I can."

"You know what? I'll just come with you ladies."

"What?" You giggled, thinking you must've misheard him.

"I've already been out with the boys for the bachelor's party. You're one person trying to look after my sister and her friends. Trust me, I think you're gonna need help."

"Between us, who do you think has more experience between wrangling drunk women?"

Aemond just smirked, nodding, "C'mon, we should head out."

Figuring there was no use in arguing, you turned for the minivan and got in after the other girls. After Aemond spoke to Cregan and Robb, he got in the passenger seat, and away you went. "What's he doing here?" Rhea asked cautiously, looking guarded.

"He wants to help keep an eye on us," you smirked.

"So you're gonna keep creepy dudes away from us?"

"Sure," Aemond agreed just as his sister squealed and begged for the radio to be turned up - she absolutely loved this song!

The club had no central lighting in the warehouse styled event room. There were multicolored strobe lights that flickered and pulsed and beat in-time with the loud, blaring music that was dialed to a volume that made the floor vibrate. Trendy music played in remixed playlists, heavy speakers lining most walls that didn't host the VIP sitting area.

Sweaty bodies bumped and ground together.

There was the dance floor. Then the bar lined the entire back wall, bathrooms located to the left and a fire exit to the right. The right most part of the room, stretching wall-to-wall, was an elevated space that had separate, roped-off lounge areas; complete with velvet couches and individual tables.

"Here," Rhea waved you all after her, leading you all right up to the bouncer and being granted access. Heleana looked skeptical as she realized this was some orchestrated event, not liking the idea of being clued-out of the knowing, but still, played along with the luxury treatment. You were seated in the corner booth, and without missing a beat, Sansa was tossing you her purse and yanking Helaena to the bar with the hope that her bride-to-be apparel would earn free drinks.

"This place is nice," Jeyne tried to compliment, but you and the Stark sisters shared a bemused look. "Oh! Goodie!" She squeaked when Sansa and Helaena returned with a full tray of assorted drinks.

"So, they just filled it with all the forgotten drinks," Sansa explained, "and said it was on the house 'cause of Helaena's bachelorette shit."

"Well then," you smirked, reaching for a single shot, "a toast!" Everyone reached for a drink and hoisted it in the air. "To our dear, sweet love, Helaena, and her saying 'I do' to one helluva guy! May this marriage be long, prosperous, adventurous, and full of the love you deserve! To Helaena!"

"And Cregan!" The bride slipped in as everyone echoed their toasts to the soon-to-be-married couple. You had your one shot, and while the others filled up, you and Aemond just watched them. Jeyne, Rhea, and Sansa scurried off together, Arya seeing someone she apparently knew and running off with them, and Helaena was looking at you with a dramatic pout. "Come dance with me," she whined. "I let you convince me to come out tonight, so you have to dance with me! Before I'm a spoken-for woman!"

Aemond smirked when you spared him a look as if to beg him to rescue you, but being unable to because his sister was adamant to get you on your feet.

Everyone was buddied up and accounted for; leaving Aemond alone at a reserved table. However, he didn't mind watching purses if it meant he could turn mutely to watch the dance floor, and while the lights made it hard, his eye caught sight of you.

Helaena was having the absolute time of her life, and the women around her all seemed blissfully distracted by the alcohol in their systems. He watched you. His eye did not stray, until he realized that while he could see you, so could every other wanton eye roaming the hazy room. Aemond glanced around and saw a few VIPs smoking, figuring it was okay to light up. Out of defensive anxiety, he pulled a cigarette carton from his pocket, tapped a single filtered death stick out, fingered his lighter before pausing to light, inhale, and return his gaze back onto you.

You were lost in the music, evident that all you ladies needed some stress relief after the whirlwind that is wedding planning. He knew you weren't drinking, but seeing you laugh and toss you arms up, rolling your hips in rhythm to the music, he knew you didn't need a single drop to have a good time. He thought that was admirable, incredibly rare these days. In Aemond's experience, college kids had a hard time saying no to alcohol, and the fact that you did it so willingly felt like whiplash.

Aemond stood and neared the guard railing of the elevated section he was stationed on. His shoulder leaned into a steel support beam, staring at you for several long moments while casually smoking; perking up only a degree when you told the girls something and then started moving through the throngs of people.

You pushed up to the bar and the bartender almost immediately took your order. He figured all seemed well enough because you weren't moving from the bar yet, his gaze shifting to scan the building.

Bodies were pressed together at every inch, the smell of sweat and spilt alcohol seemingly permanently perfuming the air. It was hard to see, but after adjusting, he could make out a few faces. Nobody seemed too hair-raising, nothing suspicious, nothing out of the ordinary...

Until his eyes returned to you. The bartender was distracted doing their job, and instead of you standing peacefully, there was some guy obviously trying to flirt with you. He seemed desperate for a conversation, Aemond almost cringing from a distance as he could only imagine what kind of terrible pick-up lines this guy was using. He felt ready to move into action, but the moment the thought entered his mind, Aemond saw you gather the glasses from the bar, turn, and quite literally ignore the blonde man - who stared after you with a gobsmacked expression. Aemond smirked when the man turned to complain to his friends; holding a drink in one hand as the other gestured angrily after you.

The man's friends got a glimpse of you and laughed, slapping their friend's chest; and Aemond hoped one of them told him that a girl as pretty as you was lightyears ahead of his league.

Aemond relaxed when you returned to the party, taking a long drag when you distributed drinks to your friends. Arya had come back around with her friend, the group mingling and enjoying their new acquaintances. He noted you were empty handed, flagging a waitress down; the VIP section apparently having the luxury of being waited on to avoid the long waits at the bar. He quietly requested two bottles of water be delivered - unsealed - to their table.

His attention returned to the bridal party, only to watch a few guys join your group. Sansa and Rhea ate up the attention; leaving Jeyne and Helaena to dance alongside Arya and her friend, as the same guy from the bar holding your conversation hostage. You still looked disinterested; stoic and cold; body language assuring Aemond that you weren't receptive to the stranger. You flinched in discomfort when he had to lean in to shout in your ear just to be heard over the music, but your eye rolls told Aemond you wouldn't listen even if in a silent library.

Something in the interaction made him annoyed. It wasn't jealousy that someone was paying attention to you, standing so close and intimately; invading your space. It was something else. He could tell you weren't interested in whatever was being said, and when you turned from the man once again, obviously dismissing him to dance with Helaena and Jeyne, Aemond could see offense paint the man's face. It wasn't jealousy, but perhaps something akin to protectiveness after witnessing the way the man had approached you at the bar, and now, again, on the dance floor.

Without a single thought, Aemond was pushing off the beam and dropping his cigarette to crunch under his boot the moment the stranger reached for your upper arm to whip you around aggressively; snarling and scolding you. Aemond easily slotted through the sweaty crowd, not entirely barging through them but not exactly waiting for them all to part for him. The stranger was sneering something at you, demanding an apology for blowing him off (twice) so rudely, but you were snapping that it was rude to bombard you. To pester disinterested women. To impose. To approach an entire group of women and ruin the good vibe by simply being an intrusive, entitled man. The blonde man was just in the middle of snarling in your face how much of a "catch" he was when Aemond arrived, and without truly thinking, he reached out and tore the man away.

Aemond, while decently lanky and skinny, was ripped with defined muscle and when his anger was flared up, he was near unstoppable. So, in reality, the stranger would've been moved whether sober or not, but because this man was drunk, he nearly toppled over. As the stranger scrambled off the floor, Aemond stood protectively in front of you with his anger almost palpable, barking, "She told you to fuck off, mate."

"Oh-ho! Got a big man here, do we!?" The blonde stranger raged, his pale flesh turning a bright red from his anger and alcohol consumption. "You wanna have a go, mate, I'll fuck you up right here! Right now! Fuck you think you're doin', touchin' me like that, you fuckin' prick!?"

"She's not interested," Aemond stood his ground, "and you need to walk away - right fucking now."

"Over some stuck-up whore who won't even accept a drink? She's that much of an up-tight bitch? Too full of her-fucking-self? Man, you're wasting your time, chicks like that don't know a nice guy even when he hits her."

"As if any woman in their right mind would accept a drink from you," Aemond sneered, looking the man up and down. "You got ears? You speak the Common Tongue? Turn around and fuck off - the ladies aren't interested."

"Like I'm listening to some one-eyed, pussy-boy - "

"Aemond!" You yelped, shoving yourself in front of him when you saw the impending danger. You knew his injury was off-base; not a topic of conversation anyone dare engage in. The fact this stranger honed in on it so easily was triggering in the worst way imaginable. "Hey, hey, hey, he's not worth it. Hey, c'mon, don't let it get to you this bad. It's okay. Aemond, c'mon, let's just walk away."

"Listen to your bitch, mate! She's not even fuckin' worth it! What kind of a guy wants to parade around with some whore? Wearing something like that for everyone to see! What's wrong, princess?" He directed at you. "He don't give you enough attention? Huh? You gotta find it anywhere else, don't'cha, why else dress like that - huh!?"

By now, a small crowd had formed and the blonde, drunk stranger was being egged on and riled up by his mates. "Don't," you repeated to Aemond, perfectly all too used to men's reaction when women reject them or simply didn't get what they want.

"Walk away," Aemond repeated, his veiny hands moving to hold your arms as if it would physically restrain him; your hands on his waist to keep him anchored.

"Man, what the fuck ever. Not even worth it," he scoffed.

"Then why do you keep talking?" Sansa drunkenly snapped from behind Aemond's broad shoulders.

"Fuck did you say, bitch!?"

Aemond sighed and tugged you behind him, stepping up to the drunk blonde man; lowering his tone to mutter something as he stood between you ladies and the lads in tacky Hawaiian-print button-ups. You're not sure what was said, but Aemond seemingly had the last word; watching him turn back for you lot and instantly start checking that each of you was truly okay.

Aemond gently caressed Helaena's cheek, muttering, "You good?"

She nodded, but then, her eyes widened and she squeaked when the stranger charged Aemond from behind, shouting his name in warning. "Shit!" You yelped when he dodged out of the way just as the man threw a wild punch.

Nobody could've stopped the fight if they tried.

You made sure to herd the women close as Aemond dodged two more throws, his long platinum hair swinging as it fell out of its bun before he found his opportunity. Aemond strategically waited until the blonde stranger was open to throw his weight behind his fist colliding with the drunk man's cheekbone.

The crowd of people around you all 'ooohed' in union, wincing when Aemond, again, knocked his fist into the man's jaw and, again, sent him sprawling to the floor. One of the friends managed to sneak in and land a blow on Aemond's cheek, but his head only barely turned with the impact. His eye locked onto the new target, and not a minute later, the other guy was nursing a broken nose.

Aemond glanced around for any other contenders, sighing when there were none - just a cloud of jeering drunks voicing their approval towards the violence. "Hey," you begged again, his eye finding your worried face, "you done now? Can we get you cleaned up?"

Sansa stepped up, stating, "We can go if you guys want - we don't have to stay!"

"No, just... Stay outta trouble," Aemond sighed. "I'll be up there," he gestured back at the elevated VIP section. You hated seeing him shoulder his way through the rowdy crowd who had already forgotten about the fight.

You shook your head, grabbing Helaena's arm and leaning into her ear, "I'm gonna check on Aemond. Don't go anywhere, stay with the girls!"

"I will!" She agreed, letting Arya push another shot in her hand. You turned and grumbled when bodies began bumping into you instantly; your jaw clenched to keep upright. You had to eventually shove a few people out of your path, but didn't care, jogging up to the VIP section and looking around. When you got back to your table, Aemond was sitting with his head tilted back, eye closed, smoking another cigarette, ice on his slightly reddened hand.

"Aemond?" You checked, announcing your presence as you took the seat beside him; scooting closer. "The fuck was that? Gettin' in fights in the club, Alicent wouldn't be proud," You spoke gently, readjusting his ice so it was actually over the swollen area.

"Just guys being dudes, dudes being guys," he mused, free hand holding his cigarette to speak as he exhaled. "Why're you up here?"

"I wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine, you can go back - "

"Aemond," you snipped, "I'm fine here. I needed a break, and I wanted to check on you."

He nodded towards the table, "Water's for you."

You glanced over, finding the two water bottles amongst an array of items on the tabletop. One unopened, the other cracked and partially drank. "Thank you," you spoke sincerely, waiting until his eye met yours, "for the water and for defending me back there. I owe you one."

"I only did what a gentleman should do," he sighed.

"Wasn't worth bruising your knuckle, was it?"

"I'd actually say it was necessary," he spoke like it was easy. You hated that, how he seemed fluent in flirting but you knew he wasn't really. Why would he? Aemond Targaryen made 'being perfect' look fucking perfect.

You were quiet for another moment before you blurted out, "It was pretty hot, I have to admit. Seeing you defend my honor."

He eased his cigarette to an ashtray, speaking clearly, "Wasn't gonna let him touch you." You thought that was final and just smiled softly, but then Aemond finished, "Wasn't about to let any man touch what's mine."

"Yours, huh?"

He smirked, "Why not?" His now free hand landed on your bare thigh; dress riding up when you sat down to give him access to your spa-waxed legs. "You anyone else's?"

"I'd like to think women aren't possessions."

"Yet you're the one prize I fucking need," his hand squeezed. "Don't even know what kinda gem you are, do you?"

"I think your adrenaline's got you talkin' crazy," you tried to deflect, giggling lightly. But his hand squeezed again, making you look up to meet his gaze.

"I know what I want. And I know," his hand slid up to ease up the curve of your ass, "that I'm done denying my want for you."

"Aemond," you felt drunk on his presence.

"Tell me to stop, doll, and we won't ever have to talk about it again. But if you can't," he palmed your flesh, "and you want this, too - "

Your hand grabbed his wrist to stop him, pulling his hand from under your dress, "Helaena's my best friend, and you're her brother. This is... The most taboo situation we could entertain right now."

"Hmm," he pulled his hand back, making you instantly snatch it back.

"But I can't tell you I don't feel it, too." Aemond's eye glittered in the strobe lights, feeling him pull your legs so you were nearly sat on his lap; legs laid over his so he could fully touch your thighs again. "But we can't, i-it would - this would take away from Helaena - we can't."

"I don't see her here right now," he purred, leaning in close to breath in your neck. "Tell me how long you've wanted me."

"Aemond."

"Keep sayin' my name, baby, but it doesn't answer my question."

You only managed to answer, "Too long," in a quivering voice before,

"HEY!" Sansa slurred, beaming brightly from over Rhea's shoulder as they stumbled up; giving just enough time for you and Aemond to separate. "I know you guys! Oh! I know them! Look! It's our friends!"

Rhea Royce, being just-as-drunk, gasped, "I know them, too! Oh, bless the Seven! We know you!"

"Hi," you laughed, eyeing them all with full amusement, "everyone doing okay?"

"I called our ride, they're up the street - they can't get down here 'cause of traffic," Jeyne informed with a pant, Helaena and Arya held to her body. You smiled at Aemond before getting up to gently take Helaena's weight from Jeyne, who breathed, "Thank you so much. C'mon, our ride's up there - "

Aemond grunted as he stood and offered his water to Rhea, assisting the ladies in keeping their balance in sticky-soled heels. You handed Sansa your unopened water as you held onto Jeyne, watching Aemond help Arya, Rhea, and Helaena - who needed his support.

It was a shit-show getting the group in another minivan; the only relief being when they were bribed with tacos. The ride to the resort was a total 180 compared to the ride out, as everyone knocked out except you and Aemond. A couple of times, you wondered if you should speak first but never did - being vulnerable isn't your forte.

You know what you would rather do than wrangle in five drunk girls? Specifically after a bachelorette party? Declaw wet cats. Contract measles. Be hit by a bus. Learn how to speak Latin (a dead language, for those who don't know). Go to Vegas with your entire lifesavings and lose it all. Use pliers to yank a tooth out - no dentist or anesthesia used (Ron Swanson style).

Anything would be better than this.

It took the better part of an hour for you to get all the girls out of the van, through the resort, and into Jeyne's border-line empty hotel room. Empty because the sweet, party girl from Northern University didn't unpack, and was the cleanest; the perfect place to dispose of everyone. Aemond was as helpful as ever, but he didn't do much past helping you get the women in bed; unsure how to help past that. From there, you did the rest: took off any shoes and / or glasses, plugged phones in, left water bottles and a bottle of Advil in view, and shut the curtains to grant them deliverance when the sun rose.

When done, you and Aemond snuck out of the room quietly and let the door shut behind you; leaving you in the hall. "I put Sansa's phone on FaceTime with mine," you showed him, "in case one of them throws up or needs something, and left it on the charger."

"So we should get you to your charger, right?"

"Oh," there was teasing to your tone, "worried about my battery running low?"

"Just wondering if your batteries can go all night," he smirked, picking up on your innuendo.

"Oh, good one," you teased, watching him smirk. "Thanks for helping tonight. It was nice having you watching our back."

"Yeah?"

You beamed, nodding, "For sure. I could tell Helaena had a blast."

"Good, 's what I care about," he nodded. "Listen," he cleared his throat, "I, uh... I have to make a confession."

"Aemond Targaryen wants to tell me a secret?" You teased, facing him in full-interest. "Please," you encouraged, gesturing for him to go-on.

His tongue wet his lips swiftly, "I know you're Helaena's friend and you say it's wrong, but I just... I tried not to have these feelings for you, but I can't stop them."

You smiled, "Aemond, that's the alcohol talking."

"What if I said I didn't have any?"

You blinked in mild shock, offering quietly, "I'd say you were delirious from dehydration or something. It was really hot in there, must've been sweating a lot, or maybe it's your adrenaline again!

"Why is it so far fetched for you to think I could have honest feelings for you? Truly, have you thought this was just a one-way street?"

"You're Helaena's brother," you spoke softly, sadly, "and maybe we're just - I don't know - not thinking clearly! We need to cool off - "

"No, no, I don't need to cool off, you see, because I'm thinking the clearest than ever before," Aemond shook his head, reaching for your shoulders to squeeze, and move down to hold your upper arms, squeeze again, then down to just above your elbow. "I feel as if I don't say it now, I might lose the nerve later. I've always admired you, sweetheart, and I know it's wrong, I know it's taboo and scares you, I know I'm your best friends brother, but I can't help it. You're just - this - like - fucking incredible person, who is loyal and wise and strong and knowing and open and sweet and empathetic and wickedly intelligent - "

You cut him off by surging into his arms; chest to chest, lips locked together in a passionate exchange of fierce, over-boiled emotion without a single thought towards further repercussions. There was tongue, there was teeth, there was an-ever spreading warmth that stretched from your cheeks to your toes. Aemond tasted just like he semlled - sweet, salty, just the right amount of spicy. He let you lock your hands in his hair, always knowing your affinity for his long silver mane; tugging the strands you managed to get ahold of gently to cause Aemond to moan while sucking on his domineering tongue.

Aemond was losing his mind; infected with all you were, all you are, all you would, could, and should be. The way you made him feel, the obvious care you put into others, the sweet, innocent look in your eye replaced by a haze of lust - all thanks to him. For a moment, Aemond's mind felt numb before it jolted back into reality, realizing he was kissing you. You. You were kissing him, he was kissing you. His dear, sweet, kind, ever-so-perfect sister's best friend, you - he was kissing you and you were kissing him back. Sure, he dreamt of this happening about a few dozen times but the real thing was tenfold what he ever imagined.

Holy Seven, he was kissing you.

"I take it," he panted, breaking apart before surging in for another taste of your pouting lips, "you might feel..." another kiss and a small moan, "feel the same?" He pulled back to look in your eyes, but when you didn't answer him, Aemond teased, "Oh, c'mon, princess, tell me you feel the same. Tell me I'm not makin' a fool of myself, that we're not just runnin' high from the club's fumes."

"No," you promised, "you are no fool, Aemond Targaryen; far from it, in fact. I, too, feel whatever this is, whatever is emotional, tangible, physical between us, I feel it, too, and I want you - oh!"

He didn't need to hear anything more, suffocating you in another kiss, and this time, you let him control the motions because you were unsure how far this would - or should - go. His hands squeezed over your hips, turning, and pushing you against the wall just a few steps behind you. Your moan was meek, released into his mouth; loving Aemond's taste on your tongue; and for now, you simply forgot he was your best friend's brother. Or ignored the fact.

"Shit," he panted, looking down at you before glancing down the hall, "listen, listen, listen, baby, hey, if we keep goin', I might not stop." He offered a small shrug, "Ready to bust right here, right now, if I'm honest, but I'd rather be inside you."

You considered his words for a moment; waiting for his gaze to return to you before voicing your opinion. Feeling inexplicably turned on by his earlier actions to defend you, bruising his knuckles on a stranger's jaw; how he called you his, how he touched you, and when his single violet eye turned back to you, you surprised yourself by your words, "Better make it quick, then."

Aemond smirked, "You want me to fuck you, here? Against the wall?"

"Maybe," you answered softly, letting your hand reach out to palm over his swelling cock; hearing his breathing catch and continuing, "only if you can be quick so we aren't caught and slapped with an indecent exposure charge."

Aemond did not hesitate to swoop down and slam his lips to yours; pushing his hips forward so he could grind into your palm. Hands roamed to touch, caress, squeeze until they secured your hips in a bruising grip, then dipping low to suddenly grab your thighs and hoist you up. As if you weren't turned on enough, the obvious show of strength and ease in which he held you made your cunt contract over nothing; dampening to an embarrassing level. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel so frantic; so animalistic; so feral that you needed to be fucked right here, right now, in this hall that was so very public.

But that was the fun: having a frenzied fuck with the looming threat someone might catch you.

You moaned like a wanton bitch in heat, core pressed against his straining member and only imaging what the feel of him would be. A whimper was ripped from your throat, gasping as Aemond grew to a knew height of desperation; turning a degree more aggressive in the way he pressed close to you, teeth scraping your lips. It was like he was trying to suck your soul through your mouth; tongues battling, hands sliding around one another as if unsure where to hold. You settled on his cheeks, finding the chiseled features alluring enough to grip; his securing your waist and base of your ribcage in a bruising grip, both moaning in pleasure and need.

"Gotta keep it down, pretty girl," he muttered with a smirk, holding you expertly so he could grind his harden, black-jean-covered member to your ever-dampening core. "Don't wanna get caught, huh? Disturb the peace, have someone hear us," he breathed against your lips, "come outta their room to check?"

You whimpered.

"Oh," he chuckled darkly, pulling back only just to look at you, "my pretty girl would like that, huh? Always knew you were a fuckin' freak."

His lips were on yours as you pawed as his belt and jeans. Aemond chuckled into the kiss, readjusting his hold on you to help; and the moment the garment was loose, you shucked his jeans to mid-thigh. All the while, Aemond leaned back in to smother your neck and shoulder with his searing-hot, teeth-raking kisses; uneven breathing making you tremble when each exhale covered your saliva-coated skin to send a shiver through your muscles.

"Aemond," you begged, riding up your dress to expose your soaking-wet, black lace thong, "just need you - now. Please, please, we don't have time for begging."

"Gotta warm you up - "

"I've been warm since you shoved that guy off me," you rushed, whimpering, "please, okay? Just fuck me. I need it, I need you. Take your time with me later, but for right now, just fuck me - I need you to fill me, Aemond."

"I gotta condom - "

"I'm on birth control - that NuvaRing is fuckin' incredible," you laughed, hearing him hum in amusement as his teeth latched down on your bottom lip enough to encourage you into another tongue-wrestling session.

After a moment, Aemond grinned and glanced down to push away any lingering fabric, lips licking yours messily; grabbing hold of his cock to line up at your core. Never before had you felt "dripping" for any man, but Aemond wasn't just any man. No, in your mind, he was The Man.

No warning was necessary for him to snap his hips forward; sheathing his hot, leaking cock in your sopping warmth in one fluid motion; piercing you. He praised in your ear, "Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," before sharing a moan; yours from absolute pleasure, and his from sheer relief. He's wanted this longer than you have, which felt impossible, but the truth was the truth. Aemond's been in love with you for what felt like an impossible amount of time.

"Shit," you begged, teeth scraping the shell of his ear, "hang on, hang on, hang on." You whimpered, "You're so fuckin' big - just a moment, please, hang on."

"'S all right, love. Take your time. I got you," he soothed, unfazed by your repeated pawing around his neck to keep your balance; sweaty palms catching his hair a few times. "Just fuckin' feel me, baby," he groaned in your ear, "and how full you feel. So fuckin' tight," he grit.

You whimpered.

The thing is, you've fucked your share of men (and women) before, but Aemond was something Godly. You felt disappointed you didn't get to physically see his glory, nor have it in your mouth, but figured there was time to admire him like a painting in the Louvre later. For now, you could only understand that Aemond was by far the biggest you've had; both in size and girth. You shuddered at the feeling of him filling you to the brim, whispering, "M-Move, please, move, just start moving, oh, my Gods. Y'Feel so fuckin' good, shit, Aemond, baby, you feel - Godsdamnit, you feel so fucking good."

Aemond did as you asked, moving his hips to drag his cockhead along your quivering walls to collect your wetness, only to push right back in; creating a languid pace as to allow you accommodation. His teeth grit tightly, "No idea what it feels like for me, sweet girl. Fuck. Who got you this wet? Huh? Who got you here? Fuckin' tell me, baby, who got you like this?"

"You, Aemond. Always you, baby, always gettin' me wet - so fuckin' wet," you babbled. "Don't even have t'do shit t'get me goin', 'M always so ready for you to have me." You felt a scream build and Aemond must've seen it because he offered you a stern look as he humped quickly into you. "Quick and quiet, right?" You complained with wide eyes, swollen lips; the perfect pout that would get you whatever you wanted from the middle Targaryen.

"Jus' for right now, can get as loud as we want later, huh?" He hissed, groaning as he readjusted his stance to increase his speed. "Hold on, princess, just hold onto me, I got us, almost there," his lips ghosted your neck before letting his teeth gnash your flesh in a show of messy dominance. "Good fuckin' girl, yes, yes," Aemond grit, flexing his jaw when he felt your arms tighten, "just hold on fa'me - can't get enough of this. Huh? Hear me? Can't ever go back, princess, not when I've had you like this - jus' fuckin' made f'me, Godsdamnit - yes, yes, yes, there's my girl, good girl, so fuckin' good for me. Shit, I don't wanna cum, I just wanna feel this pussy for as long as possible, but I can't hold it, baby, shit, I can't hold it anymore."

Your moans and grotesque sounds of Aemond's balls slapping your leaky cunt filled the hall; your mind only briefly registering the idea for a moment to let you glance up and down the hall to ensure your "privacy". Words failed you, your lungs heaving in short puffs; gripping his shoulders as if it would keep you anchored, but the truth was, his forceful hips were sending you up the fucking wall.

"Ae-Aemond," you begged brokenly, reaching for your clit and only needing to add minimal pressure; ready to shatter from the harsh thrusts your one-eyed lover provided. "I-I-I'm there. I'm there, baby, please, oh, shit!" You felt a sob lodge in your throat.

"Cum on my cock, princess," he demanded as your head tilted back to bang into the wall, sinking his teeth deep into your pulse point when exposed. "Lemme feel you, love, c'mon, just let it go. Show me - " he felt the trickling of your cum squirting out in a rare display, "oh-ho-hoooo, look at that, yes, yes, there's my good fuckin' girl. That's it, fuckin' soak me, there it is - shit, shit, oh, fuck. Grippin' me so fuckin' tight without anythin' needin' to be said. Good girl," he grunted, feeling as if stabbing through you with the way he thrusted and jackhammered his cock into your tightening cunt with each word.

Your tongue flattened against his neck, hearing his groan, and when your mouth closed down to lock your teeth over his pale flesh, sure to leave a red mark, Aemond gave a final grunt. He shuddered; hands bruising your skin as his hips stuttered once, twice, and stilled against you. Your nether region blossomed with his warmth, your lungs panting to catch your breath; feeling full as Aemond barely deflated inside you.

"Shit," you whispered.

"Yeah," he gaped in agreement, gulping harshly. "You all right, love?"

"Mhm," you nodded against him, nuzzling his cheek with your nose. "You?"

"So fuckin' good," he chuckled, glancing down the hall. "I gotta set you down, baby, 'M cramping a little. Easy does it, just hold onto me," he spoke soothingly, pulling his cock out and easing you to your feet while holding onto his neck and shoulders. "Keep my cum right there," he smirked down at you, readjusting your panties over your swollen cunt before tugging your dress back down; giving a playful slap to your clit that made you jump a little from the overstimulation. "Don't let a drop out, hmm?"

"Take that up with gravity, I got nothin' to do with it," you whined, leaning on the wall for full-support. After situating his cock back and yanking his boxers and jeans back up, Aemond dropped to a knee before you.

"Here," he whispered, lifting one of your legs to ease your shoe off. You smiled, holding onto his shoulders as he helped you remove both shoes; standing to his full height again. He looked nervous for a moment, mouth opening but closing as words evaded him.

You took mercy, smiling, "Aemond?"

"Yeah, princess?"

"Would you like to spend the night with me?"

He smirked, chuckling, "Yeah, think I would."

"Good. You get to carry me, then." Aemond grinned and moved before you realized what he was doing, swooping you into his arms. You giggled girlishly, "I need my stuff!" He glanced down at the floor to spy your shoes, purse, phone. Aemond grunted as he lowered in a squat, letting you collect your things to rest in the cradle of your belly, snickering, "You're such a show off."

"This is why we don't skip leg-day, pretty girl," he smirked, "or core day, or arm day..."

"We get it, you work out! But weren't you cramping up a minute ago?"

"Yeah, but that was then."

As he walked towards the elevator, you both heard a door open and peaked over to see one of Aemond's distant, great-uncles peaking out in confusion. "Did you guys hear that?" The older man asked hoarsely, obviously disgruntled from being woken up. "What's all that racket? We thought we could expect for a little sleep!"

You felt embarrassment flush your system, a hand slapping over your mouth - but Aemond covered, "Sorry, Uncle, the wedding parties went out drinking. Got them all safe in their rooms, except this one, though. Sorry for the noise."

He smiled, nodding as if in relief, "You're a good boy, Aemond. She all right?"

"Yes, just a little too much to drink," he chuckled, your free hand reaching over to pinch his nipple through his shirt as your other hand now hid an amused smile. "Goodnight, Uncle, there won't be other disturbances tonight."

When the elevator arrived, Aemond stepped on as this distant relative shut his door again, and as the elevator doors shut, you shared a look before bursting out in laughter. "I don't think I can face him at the wedding now," you whined lightly.

"Why not?"

"I literally have your cum dripping outta me - "

"I told you to keep it in."

You smirked, "I guess you're just gonna have to punish me, then, huh? You never did like being disobeyed, now, did you?"

Aemond laughed, his single lilac eye scanning over your face; slowly dropping in serenity. "What're we doing, baby? Hmm?" He asked quietly.

"Going to my room - "

"You know what I mean," he sighed almost sadly. When you arrived at your floor, he walked out of the elevator as you answered,

"You and I know we have feelings for each other. So, for tonight, it's just us... And we'll decide when to tell the others after we decide what it is to tell them."

"Probably best after the wedding..."

You smiled as you arrived at your hotel door, "Well, I was kinda hoping you'd be my date to the wedding?"

Aemond looked down at you with a softening expression. "Yeah?" He chuckled slightly as you opened your clutch to pull out your keycard, but his hands tightened to earn your full attention once the plastic was in your hand. "I'd... Actually really like that, too, sweetheart," he hushed, hoisting you in for another frantic kiss. The door beeped when it opened, closing with a heavy bang behind you both; forgetting Sansa was left on FaceTime... Too distracted by both being obviously turned on, it seemed, by emotional intimacy.

Perhaps not so one-sided, indeed...

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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she-whatshername · 9 months ago

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Tyrrish Men Headcanons I made you vote for

Prompt: travel edition

Garrick:

When we getting to the airport: 3 hours ahead, the man is the son of aide of a duke. He is prompt

And yes, he does have a folder of everyone’s passports and flight information

He 100% owns TSA precheck/global entry

Is he holding your bags: Yes. You won’t touch a thing on your journey.

Will drop you off at check in and then go park through car so you don’t have to walk

Where are you sitting? Okay, I know he’s wealthy but are the aides of dukes aristocrats themselves or just well off people? I’m guessing you’ll do economy premium, maybe first class.

Honestly this man is a social butterfly and will just chat with the gate attendants and you’ll be bumped to first class. And yeah, he’s probably sweet talking with all the flight attendants.

Snacks and drinks: will order for you and be polite about it like “you wanted a whisky, right baby?”

He’d probably be that guy to clap when the plane lands. Idk why I just feel it lolol

Bodhi:

When we getting to the airport: maybe 2 hours before you take off.

Let’s be real, Bodhi is easy going by nature and Xaden forced him to be prompt and on top of things due to the revolution

Bodhi probably snoozes his alarm at least 4 times and takes awhile to actually get out of bed. So showing up to the airport early, meh.

Also let’s be real, you’re flying first class so you literally breeze through security and get to hang out in a lounge before take off

This man takes care of you. Literally everything is booked and you just have to show up.

Is he holding your bags: of course. Not only that, he packed all your stuff in his carry on so you could have more room to pack

Will hold your hand the entire way to the gate, on the flight, he’s got you

Where are you sitting: first class bb. Like the fancy fancy first class. You board the plane first and the attendants are like “welcome Mr. Durran.” lol

Snacks and drinks: duh. Champagne. Fancy snacks. Also he packed your favorite snacks in his bag for you.

He’s also checking in on you often, “comfortable, love? Why don’t you take a nap and I’ll wake you up when food gets here.”

An Angel this man is

Also if you’re napping he is 100% gushing to the flight crew about you.

Xaden:

Lolol

When we getting to the airport: whenever the fuck you want

You think this man is flying commercial.

Baby

You are in a car rolling up to the runway to a private jet. Crew waiting for your arrival

Is he holding your bag: nope. But neither are you. He’s got staff to take care of that.

You have the whole private jet to yourselves. You can sit wherever.

Snacks and drinks: your favorite drinks, snacks and foods are on board waiting for you. He’s got it all taken care of.

He will also ask the flight crew to take scenic routes to your destination, avoid paths where it could be bumpy, and basically treat you like the royalty you are

NSFW: Mile high club?? Skies the limit, BB.

His plane. His seats. His woman/man/partner

Also I feel like he’d be the guy to just get up and hop in the pilot seat like, “let me fly my girl to our destination”. And the flight crew is like, 👍🏽

If he had to fly commercial I think he’d be a wreck honestly lol. His trust issues would never

The Marked ones would draw straws/fight over who has to sit next to him lolol

Garrick is like “I usually handle him every day, it’s my vacation too. Bodhi, you get him on the way there and Im, you sit next to him when we go back.”

Liam:

I don’t think this man flies. He’s more of a roadtrip type.

Loves the joy of the journey with you, it’s part of the trip

And that suites you just fine

And he will absolutely drive the whole way unless you want to.

#fourth wing #the empyrean #garrick tavis #bodhi durran #xaden riorson #liam mairi #tyrrish men headcanons you didn't ask for

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liora-vespera · 5 months ago

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Wilderness Of Love - Taehyung Oneshot

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warning: Smut, Flight crash, Injury, 18+

-------------------------------------------------------

Y/N had barely settled into her seat when the turbulence started. It was supposed to be a routine flight back to her university after attending a law seminar, but the shaking of the plane made her clutch the armrests tightly. Across the aisle, a sharply dressed man with an aura of quiet authority barely looked up from his phone.

She’d noticed him during boarding. His tailored suit and the way he carried himself screamed wealth, yet he was on a commercial flight. Strange, but she had other things to worry about—like her impending exam.

A sudden, violent jolt interrupted her thoughts, and the cabin lights flickered. Passengers gasped, some screaming as the plane shook again. The oxygen masks dropped from above, and Y/N grabbed hers, her heart racing.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” came the strained voice over the intercom. “We’re experiencing a severe emergency. Please brace for impact.”

The words sent a wave of panic through the cabin. Y/N barely managed to follow the instructions of the flight attendants, her mind racing with thoughts of survival. The next thing she knew, the world erupted in chaos—a deafening crash, metal screeching, and a blinding light.

---

When Y/N opened her eyes, the world was quiet except for the faint crackle of fire and the rustle of leaves. She was lying on the forest floor, surrounded by debris from the plane. The air smelled of smoke and fuel, and her head throbbed painfully.

“Is anyone there?” she croaked, struggling to sit up.

A groan from nearby made her turn. A man—him, the one in the suit—was pulling himself out of the wreckage. His face was smeared with dirt, and his suit was torn, but he was alive.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, crawling toward him.

“I think so,” he replied, wincing as he sat up. His voice was deep, calm despite the chaos. “Where are we?”

“The forest,” she said, glancing around. “The plane... it crashed.”

They looked around, the devastation sinking in. Most of the passengers hadn’t survived. Among the wreckage, they found the pilot, barely alive but conscious.

“We need to get him help,” Y/N said, kneeling beside the man.

The stranger—Taehyung, as he introduced himself—helped her stop the bleeding from the pilot’s leg using strips of fabric torn from his shirt. Together, they searched the wreckage for anything useful, finding a few bottles of water, some snacks, and a first aid kit.

“Rescue teams will come,” Captain Lee, the pilot, murmured weakly.

“We just have to survive until then,” Y/N said, though her voice wavered.

As night fell, the three of them huddled around a small fire. The forest was cold and alive with unfamiliar sounds. Taehyung draped his jacket over Y/N’s shoulders, his face unreadable in the firelight.

“You look like you belong in a boardroom,” Y/N said, trying to break the silence.

He gave a faint smile. “And you look like you belong in a library.”

“I’m a law student,” she said, clutching the jacket tightly.

“Taehyung,” he replied simply.

“Y/N,” she offered. “Thanks for the jacket.”

“You were shivering.”

Their quiet exchange was interrupted by Captain Lee groaning in pain. Despite their best efforts, his condition worsened overnight. By dawn, he had passed away, leaving them to bury him beneath a pile of stones.

“We’ll find a way out,” Taehyung said as they stood over the makeshift grave.

Y/N nodded, though tears streaked her cheeks. She didn’t know this man well, but the crash had bound them together in ways she couldn’t explain.

---

The following day, they decided to move. Taehyung supported Y/N when her legs faltered, and she steadied him when he stumbled. Their conversations were sparse but meaningful, filled with unspoken understanding.

By late afternoon, they stumbled upon a small stream. Exhausted, they collapsed by the water, taking turns drinking and washing their faces.

“Think anyone’s looking for us?” Y/N asked, her voice barely audible.

“They have to be,” Taehyung said, though his tone wasn’t as confident as before.

Y/N looked at him, his usually composed demeanor cracked by exhaustion and uncertainty. For the first time, she saw him not as a stranger or a billionaire, but as someone just as human as she was.

“We’ll make it,” she said, more to herself than him.

Taehyung looked at her and nodded. “Together.”

The forest remained vast and silent, but with each other’s company, the overwhelming fear felt a little more manageable.

—-

Y/N and Taehyung stood at the base of a towering tree, their gazes climbing toward the canopy above. It had been Taehyung’s idea to climb, reasoning that they might get a better view of their surroundings. The dense forest had been unrelenting, and the hope of spotting a path or sign of civilization kept them going.

“Are you sure about this?” Y/N asked, her voice uncertain as she craned her neck to look up.

“Not entirely,” Taehyung admitted with a faint smile. “But we need to know if there’s a way out.”

He hoisted himself onto the first sturdy branch and began climbing, his movements deliberate but swift. Y/N followed, her hands trembling slightly from exertion and nerves. By the time they reached a point high enough to see above the treetops, the sight stole the breath from her lungs.

The forest stretched endlessly in every direction, an ocean of green with no visible roads or clearings.

“It’s... isolated,” Y/N murmured, her hope faltering.

Taehyung sighed, brushing a hand through his disheveled hair. “Looks like we’re stuck until someone finds us. We can’t keep wandering aimlessly.”

They climbed back down in silence, the weight of their situation heavier than before.

---

Hours later, as they trudged deeper into the forest, they stumbled upon a clearing. In the center stood an old, weathered treehouse, perched among sturdy branches overlooking a mesmerizing lake. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and a gentle fountain bubbled at its center, surrounded by lush greenery.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Taehyung agreed, though his gaze lingered more on the treehouse. “Let’s check it out.”

The structure was small and in poor condition, with creaky wooden planks and patches of moss growing along its walls. It didn’t look like anyone had used it in years, but it was shelter.

“This will do,” Taehyung said, setting down the few supplies they’d salvaged from the crash.

Y/N glanced at the lake longingly, the idea of washing off days of sweat and dirt almost too tempting to resist. But the thought of bathing in the open, with no privacy, made her hesitate.

Instead, she busied herself unpacking their meager belongings: a few pieces of clothing, some snacks, and a couple of bottles of water. Taehyung had also managed to save a small knife and a lighter, both invaluable in their current situation.

“You can go clean up, you know,” Taehyung said casually, noticing her glances toward the water.

She shook her head, her cheeks warming. “I can’t. It’s too exposed.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. As Y/N focused on organizing their supplies, Taehyung began gathering sticks and branches from the surrounding area.

“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him drag a large branch toward the fountain.

“Building you some privacy,” he replied simply.

---

By the time he finished, Taehyung had fashioned a makeshift enclosure using sticks and leaves near the fountain. It wasn’t perfect, but it shielded the area well enough to give Y/N a sense of security.

“There,” he said, dusting off his hands. “Go ahead.”

Y/N hesitated, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. “Thank you.”

He gave her a small nod and turned away, giving her space.

The water was refreshingly cool as Y/N washed away the grime and sweat. Her skin tingled from the rashes caused by days of exposure to dirt and lack of proper hygiene. She scrubbed gently, careful to avoid the stinging pain from a deep cut on her leg.

Afterward, she changed into a clean shirt salvaged from the wreckage and returned to the treehouse, feeling a thousand times better.

“It’s all yours,” she said to Taehyung, who was inspecting the treehouse’s damaged walls.

He nodded and headed to the fountain.

---

Taehyung washed quickly, the cold water soothing his aching muscles. As he stepped back toward the treehouse, he noticed Y/N sitting on the wooden floor, wincing as she adjusted her leg.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling beside her.

“It’s nothing,” she said dismissively, but her pained expression gave her away.

“Let me see.”

Reluctantly, she rolled up her pant leg to reveal a deep, angry-looking cut on her calf. Taehyung frowned, grabbing the first aid kit.

“You should’ve said something,” he scolded gently, cleaning the wound as carefully as he could.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” she murmured.

“You’ve been walking on this for hours,” he said, his tone softening. “You need to take care of yourself.”

As he bandaged her leg, Y/N watched him quietly. For all his wealth and polished exterior, Taehyung had proven to be resourceful, calm under pressure, and unexpectedly kind.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He glanced up, meeting her gaze. “We’re in this together, Y/N. We look out for each other.”

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the pain. For the first time since the crash, she felt a glimmer of hope—not because of the forest or their situation, but because of him.

—

The small treehouse was their refuge, but as night fell, the temperature plummeted. The clothes they’d salvaged from the crash weren’t enough to shield them from the biting cold. The soft rustling of the lake’s gentle waves and the distant chirping of crickets only emphasized the eerie stillness of the forest.

Taehyung sat cross-legged on the uneven wooden floor, his back pressed against the treehouse’s wall. Y/N sat nearby, wrapped in her thin jacket, her knees pulled tightly to her chest.

“You okay?” he asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

Y/N shook her head, her teeth chattering. She wasn’t. The cold was seeping into her bones, and she could feel her strength waning. “It’s freezing,” she admitted, her voice weak.

Taehyung frowned, watching her carefully. Her cheeks were pale, and her hands trembled despite her attempts to hide it. He moved closer, his brows furrowed with concern.

“You’re not going to last the night like this,” he said bluntly.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, though even she didn’t believe her words.

“No, you won’t.” He sighed and grabbed her hands, his larger, warmer ones enveloping hers. He began rubbing them gently, trying to generate some warmth.

Y/N tensed at the sudden contact but didn’t pull away. The warmth spreading from his hands was a small comfort in the frigid air.

“Lean back,” he said after a moment, gesturing toward the pile of leaves they’d gathered earlier to use as bedding.

“What?”

“Trust me,” he replied, meeting her gaze. “You need to stay warm, and the only way is to share body heat.”

Y/N hesitated but eventually nodded. She was too cold to argue. Lying down on the makeshift bed of leaves, she shivered uncontrollably as Taehyung settled beside her.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. His body was warm against hers, and she couldn’t deny the relief it brought. He began rubbing her back gently, his movements steady and soothing.

“This is ridiculous,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Better ridiculous than frozen,” he retorted, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

She let out a small laugh despite herself. “You’re annoyingly practical.”

“Someone has to be,” he teased, though his focus remained on keeping her warm.

As the hours passed, the cold only seemed to deepen. Taehyung shifted his attention to her legs, rubbing them gently but firmly to restore circulation. He didn’t speak much, his concentration fully on ensuring she stayed conscious and warm.

“You’re strong,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Not strong enough,” she murmured, her eyelids growing heavy.

“Yes, you are,” he insisted, his voice soft but firm. “You survived a plane crash. You’re here, fighting. That’s strength.”

Y/N didn’t reply, but his words brought a faint warmth to her chest, even as the cold gnawed at her.

---

The hours dragged on, and Taehyung stayed awake, watching over her. Every now and then, he’d press his hand against her forehead, checking her temperature. Her breathing remained steady, though her body shivered less as the night wore on.

Finally, the first rays of dawn broke through the canopy, casting a golden light over the lake and their small shelter. The warmth of the sun began to creep in, chasing away the bitter cold.

Taehyung exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Y/N stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open as the sunlight warmed her face.

“You made it through the night,” he said softly, relief evident in his tone.

“Barely,” she whispered, her voice still weak but steadier than the night before.

Taehyung offered her a small smile. “The sun’s up now. Things will get better.”

For the first time in hours, he allowed himself to relax. They weren’t out of danger yet, but they’d survived another challenge together. And for now, that was enough.

—

The sun had barely risen above the horizon when Y/N stirred awake, the distant sound of birds chirping filling the air. She sat up slowly, stretching her stiff limbs as the events of the past few days settled back into her mind. Taehyung was already awake, sitting on the edge of the treehouse with his legs dangling, staring out at the shimmering lake.

“Morning,” she mumbled, still groggy.

He glanced over his shoulder, offering a small nod. “Morning.”

Her stomach growled loudly, breaking the serene silence. Y/N winced in embarrassment while Taehyung chuckled softly.

“I guess that’s our next priority,” he said, standing up.

“What do we even have left?” she asked, rummaging through the small pile of salvaged supplies. It didn’t take long to realize the answer—nothing.

Taehyung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re out. No food, no snacks. Just some water.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Y/N asked, her tone slightly panicked.

He gestured toward the lake. “We fish.”

“Fish?” she repeated incredulously. “Have you ever even caught a fish before?”

“No,” he admitted, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “But how hard can it be?”

---

Taehyung waded into the lake, the cool water reaching up to his knees. He’d fashioned a makeshift spear out of a sturdy stick, sharpening the tip with the knife they’d salvaged. Y/N sat on the bank, her arms wrapped around her knees as she watched him with mild skepticism.

“Remind me again why I’m not helping,” she called out.

“Because you said you didn’t want to step into the cold water,” he replied, his eyes focused on the rippling surface.

“Fair point,” she muttered.

Taehyung remained silent for a while, concentrating on the small movements beneath the water. He struck suddenly, but when he lifted the stick, it was empty.

“This is harder than it looks,” he admitted with a sigh.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “For a billionaire, you’re surprisingly bad at improvising.”

He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’ve been paying attention.”

“Hard not to,” she replied. “You don’t exactly blend in, even in the middle of a forest.”

Taehyung chuckled softly, then returned his attention to the water.

“Tell me something,” Y/N said after a moment, her voice softer. “You’re obviously not used to this kind of thing. What’s your story? Who are you outside of... all this?”

He paused, the question catching him off guard. “You want to know about me?”

“Well, we’ve been stuck together for days, and I know next to nothing about you,” she said, shrugging. “Consider it a distraction while you hunt.”

Taehyung sighed, straightening up slightly. “Alright. I’m Kim Taehyung. I run a company my father built. Tech, finance... a little of everything. And in about a month, I’m supposed to be getting married.”

“Married?” Y/N asked, her eyebrows shooting up. “Is it... love?”

“No,” he replied simply. “It’s arranged.”

“Arranged?” she repeated, tilting her head. “So you don’t even get a say in it?”

He hesitated. “It’s complicated. It’s not that I dislike her. It’s just... expected. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” she challenged.

Taehyung glanced at her, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “There’s a lot riding on me. Family expectations, business alliances... Love wasn’t really part of the equation.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment. “That’s... sad.”

He shrugged. “It’s just the way things are.”

“What about you?” he asked, turning the conversation back to her. “Do you have a boyfriend waiting for you back home?”

She shook her head. “No time for that. My parents are... strict. My focus has always been on school, on becoming the perfect daughter. Law school wasn’t my choice—it was theirs.”

“Sounds like we’re both living lives someone else chose for us,” Taehyung said, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Y/N nodded, her expression somber. “I guess we are.”

---

Their conversation was interrupted when Taehyung suddenly struck the water again. This time, when he lifted the stick, a small fish wriggled at the end of it.

“Got it!” he exclaimed, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

Y/N clapped her hands, laughing. “Told you you’d figure it out.”

They quickly gathered firewood and used the lighter to ignite a small fire by the lake. Taehyung cleaned the fish as best as he could, while Y/N sorted through a handful of berries she’d found nearby, making sure they weren’t poisonous.

The fish was skewered and roasted over the fire. As they ate, Y/N grimaced slightly.

“Not a fan?” Taehyung asked, amused.

“Not really,” she admitted, poking at her piece of fish. “But it’s food, and I’m starving, so...”

Taehyung chuckled, taking another bite. “You’re surprisingly picky for someone stranded in a forest.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “And you’re surprisingly capable for someone who probably has people do everything for him.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What, you thought I’d fall apart out here?”

“Honestly? A little,” she said with a grin.

Their playful banter faded into a comfortable silence as they finished their meal. The fire crackled softly, and the stars began to appear in the darkening sky.

“You’re not what I expected,” Y/N said quietly, glancing at Taehyung.

He looked at her, his expression curious. “And what did you expect?”

“Someone cold, distant, maybe even arrogant,” she admitted. “But you’re... different.”

Taehyung smiled faintly. “And you’re not what I expected, either.”

Y/N tilted her head. “What did you expect?”

“Someone who’d break down at the first sign of trouble,” he said, his tone teasing. “But you’re tougher than you look.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

As the fire crackled between them, a quiet tension lingered in the air. They were still strangers in many ways, but the bond they were forming felt undeniable. For the first time since the crash, the forest felt less daunting. Together, they were starting to feel like they might just survive.

—

The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as the day began to wind down, casting a warm glow over the lake. A light breeze stirred the leaves, creating soft rustling sounds in the air. Y/N stood at the edge of the water, the damp fabric of her dress sticking to her skin, her eyes following the rhythm of the waves.

“Think we can catch anything tonight?” she called out to Taehyung, who was already waist-deep in the lake, spear in hand.

“I’ll give it my best shot,” Taehyung replied with a determined smile, though his tone was light, as if trying to make the situation sound less grim.

Y/N chuckled softly, then glanced at the sky. The sun was dipping lower, and the forest around them seemed to come alive in the dusk. There was something calming about the way the lake reflected the changing sky—almost as if the wilderness had a rhythm, a pulse of its own.

“I don’t think we’ll ever get used to this,” she said quietly, watching Taehyung.

He turned slightly to look at her, his expression softening. “You’re right. But... sometimes, the strangest things happen. Things we don’t expect.”

Y/N caught his gaze, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “You’re talking about fishing, right?”

He chuckled. “In part, yes. But also... about us, maybe. How we ended up here, depending on each other.”

A silence hung between them as she processed his words. It felt strange, this connection that was forming, as if they were no longer strangers but something more. But Y/N quickly shook off the thought, reminding herself that they were just two people trapped in a desperate situation. Nothing more.

Suddenly, Taehyung lunged forward, his spear piercing the water with precision. He pulled back with effort, revealing a large fish wriggling at the end of the stick.

“I got it!” he exclaimed, breathing heavily. The size of the fish made him momentarily struggle, but he didn’t let go.

“Nice job!” Y/N cheered from the shore, her eyes wide with admiration.

But as Taehyung pulled the fish closer to shore, the slippery creature wiggled free, and for a moment, it seemed like all their effort had been in vain.

“Hold it!” Y/N shouted instinctively, rushing to the water’s edge.

Without thinking, she waded into the lake, her wet dress trailing behind her. She reached out just as Taehyung’s grip faltered, and together, they finally managed to bring the fish to safety.

When it was over, Y/N was panting, her dress drenched, and the cool water clinging to her skin. Her body instinctively shivered from the chill, but she smiled at their success.

“Phew, that was close,” she said, laughing lightly, but the sound caught in her throat when she realized how soaked she was.

Taehyung’s gaze flickered downward, and he quickly looked away, his face tinged with a blush. He didn’t mean to stare, but it was hard not to notice the way her dress clung to her skin.

“Uh... you might want to change,” he said awkwardly, his voice suddenly tense.

Y/N, too, became aware of how exposed she was, the dress clinging to her body in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and oddly exposed. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hide the discomfort she felt.

“I... yeah, I will,” she said, nodding quickly. She turned and retreated to the treehouse, her heart pounding in her chest for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.

---

While Y/N changed, Taehyung focused on the fish, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure why he was reacting this way. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her before—she’d been by his side through everything, sharing the same hardships. But something about the way she had looked earlier... the water-soaked dress, her hair falling loosely around her face—it had taken him by surprise.

He shook his head, trying to focus on starting a fire. When Y/N returned, dressed in dry clothes, Taehyung glanced at her briefly, his gaze lingering just a little longer than usual before he quickly turned his attention back to the fire.

“You look... better,” he said, though his voice was lower than usual.

Y/N gave him a small smile, relieved that the awkward tension between them had dissipated. “Thanks.” She crouched next to the fire, watching him as he began to clean the fish. There was an ease between them now, but also something unspoken.

They worked in silence for a while, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of the trees around them. Once the fish was cooked, they sat down on the ground, the warmth from the fire spilling over them.

Y/N took a bite of the fish, trying to hide her grimace. “It’s... not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Taehyung laughed, glancing at her with amusement. “Glad to hear it. You seem pretty picky for someone stuck in a forest with no other option.”

“I’m not picky,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I just have standards.”

He smiled, his eyes softening. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her smile mirroring his.

They fell into a comfortable silence again, eating and watching the stars slowly take their place in the night sky. But something had shifted. The atmosphere between them had changed, and neither of them could ignore it.

“Y/N,” Taehyung said suddenly, breaking the silence.

She looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you...” He hesitated, as though considering his words carefully. “What’s it like? To have freedom? To make your own choices?”

Y/N was caught off guard by the question. She paused, looking at him for a long moment, then glanced down at her hands. “Freedom is a strange thing,” she said quietly. “My parents... they’ve always planned my life for me. I was never asked what I wanted.”

Taehyung’s expression softened, his eyes filled with empathy. “That must be tough.”

She met his gaze, surprised by the depth of understanding she saw in his eyes. “It is. But it’s also my life. And I’m starting to realize... maybe I can still change it. Maybe I can still choose for myself.”

There was a long pause, and in the quiet of the night, with the crackling fire between them, Y/N felt her chest tighten. She wasn’t sure what had come over her, but there was something about the way Taehyung was looking at her—like he understood her in a way no one else ever had.

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with a quiet intensity, a tension neither of them was willing to name just yet.

“You know,” Taehyung said, his voice suddenly soft, “I never thought I’d be here. In a place like this. With someone like you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused. “Someone like me?”

He hesitated, then smiled, the corners of his lips curling up slowly. “Someone who’s not afraid to dive into a freezing lake to help me. Someone who can still make me laugh, even when we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through her chest. She smiled back, her eyes softening. “I guess we’re both full of surprises.”

Taehyung’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, and this time, neither of them looked away. It wasn’t just the fire that warmed the air between them—it was something deeper, something unspoken but undeniably there.

They both knew that the night would pass, the stars would fade, and they would have to face the reality of their situation. But for now, in the silence of the forest, with only the sound of their breathing and the crackling fire, they allowed themselves a brief moment of connection—a quiet acknowledgment that, despite everything, they were no longer just two strangers lost in the wilderness. They were something more.

—

The night had fallen completely now, the moon casting a silver glow across the lake. The crackling fire between them offered a flickering warmth, but the cool night air lingered, wrapping them in a quiet stillness. Y/N sat beside Taehyung, her heart racing in a way that didn’t quite match the calm of their surroundings.

She hadn’t expected this. Didn’t expect to feel so... drawn to him. The way the firelight danced in his eyes, the soft smiles they shared, the way their conversations had shifted from survival to something deeper—something real.

“You’re quiet,” Taehyung murmured, his voice low as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

Y/N blinked, her breath catching in her throat. “I was just thinking... about how strange this all is.”

He looked at her fully now, his expression serious, yet tender. “Strange?”

She nodded. “How we’ve ended up here together... and how much it’s changed. You know, when we first met, I never would have thought I’d be this close to you.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. “Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

There was a lingering silence as their eyes met, the fire flickering between them. Taehyung didn’t break his gaze, and neither did she. Something between them had shifted, deepened.

For a moment, the world around them faded—there was only the sound of their breathing, the soft rustle of the trees, the warmth of the fire. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her lips tingling with the unspoken words that hovered between them.

Slowly, almost instinctively, she leaned in, her eyes fluttering shut as she tilted her head, and Taehyung followed suit. The distance between them vanished, and in that fleeting moment, the world seemed to pause.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was gentle, as if they were both savoring the moment, feeling the weight of everything that had led to this.

When they finally pulled away, the silence that followed was thick with emotion. Their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

“You... you feel it too, right?” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky with the intensity of the moment.

Taehyung smiled, a small, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I do.”

He took her hand, his fingers warm against hers. “Come on,” he said softly, his voice tender. “Let me carry you back to the treehouse.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. Without a second thought, she allowed him to scoop her up in his arms, his strength surprising yet comforting. The world outside seemed distant, but for this moment, there was only Taehyung and her, wrapped in the warmth of the fire and the intimacy of what they had just shared.

As he carried her through the forest, the soft rustling of the leaves was the only sound. Y/N nestled closer into his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the beat of his heart against her.

When they reached the treehouse, Taehyung gently set her down, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment before he stepped back. He looked at her, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken.y/n suddenly pulled him above her and atarted to kiss him passionately.

Taehyung understood the situation so he backed away breaking the kiss and said cupping her face, “ Look y/n, I think we are rushing into something. as you know we only knew each other for two weeks since we've lost.” “I don’t care Mister” that's all she said before pulling him again into a kiss and started to unbuttoned him.

“ Are you sure?” He asked lifting her frock exposing her fully to his desirable eyes. He knew she wasn’t wearing anything as her only underwear is outside getting dry after the thing happened in lake, so he wasn't surprised. she widened her legs before nodding her head and said “Yes”.

He didn’t wait much before diving in between her legs and started to lick her. She throw her head back letting out a load moan gripping his head, she leaned back on her elbow looking at him pulling back before parting her folds by his hands. “ You taste a lot like cherries darling.” He said while looking at her in the eyes. He was about to finger her but she stopped saying she want him to be inside her.

“And please be gentle. I've never done it before.” Taehyung’s eyes widen but acted normal. “ I'm not new to give pleasure darling” he said before pulling down his shorts and boxers and started to stroke his member. She hesitated a bit after seeing his size but he entered into her making her scream just by the tip. He lift her up on his lap before asking her to take him in little by little as per her liking. She ride him not taking him in fully but got exhausted soon.

He put her down before ramming into her making her moan loadly in pleasure. She gripped him tightly.“ I think I'm go….” she released her juices all of sudden and clenched hard making him get his end too. In the heat of the moment no one cared about where he finished. He layed down hugging her close to him and both slept like that.

—

Days rolled up as they got more and more close by emotion and their body too. He wasn’t able to take control himself anytime he see her doing something sensual.

Two months had passed since that fateful plane crash, and life in the forest had become a strange new normal. The once unfamiliar sounds of the wilderness were now background music to their days. The treehouse was no longer just a shelter; it had become home. Y/N and Taehyung had developed their own rhythms, their days spent fishing, gathering food, and keeping each other company through the long hours.

Despite the challenges, there was a strange sense of peace in the isolation. But Y/N couldn't help the thoughts that clouded her mind on that morning.

She hadn't had her period in a while, and the realization weighed on her. She'd been too distracted by the day-to-day survival to think much about it, but now, the thought had planted itself firmly in her mind. Had she missed it because of stress? Or something else?

She tried to push the thought aside, but it kept coming back, nagging her as she sat on the edge of the treehouse, gazing out at the quiet lake. She knew she needed to talk to Taehyung about it—about everything—but how could she bring it up? She didn’t even know where to start.

Just as the thoughts became overwhelming, the faintest sound broke through her inner turmoil—a distant hum that grew louder.

Taehyung!

She jumped to her feet, her heart racing. From somewhere in the forest, Taehyung came running toward her, his face filled with a mix of hope and urgency.

“Taehyung?” Y/N called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N!” He grabbed her hands as he reached her, his grip tight and reassuring. “Y/N, listen. There’s a helicopter! I think they’ve found us!” His voice cracked with emotion.

Y/N’s heart surged with disbelief and joy. A helicopter? After all this time, after all the struggles, help was finally here. She could hardly process the news, her mind spinning with the possibility of rescue.

“We have to make a signal, quickly,” Taehyung said, urgency in his voice. “We don’t know how much time we have.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the last lighter they had left. Y/N’s eyes widened as he crouched down, striking the lighter with quick, practiced movements.

He managed to create a small fire in the clearing, the smoke rising into the air. “This will be our signal. Stay close.”

The seconds felt like hours as they both watched the smoke rise, the sound of the helicopter drawing nearer. The roar of the blades echoed in the distance, and soon, the dark silhouette of the helicopter appeared above them. Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes—tears of relief, of hope, of joy.

“We’re going home,” she whispered, barely believing the words.

The helicopter hovered overhead for a moment, then descended to land in the clearing near them. The doors opened, revealing two Navy officers who quickly rushed toward them. They didn’t waste any time, their professionalism evident as they ensured Y/N and Taehyung were safely aboard.

As the helicopter took off, the forest they had called home for the past two months slowly disappeared behind them. Y/N clung to Taehyung’s hand, her eyes brimming with tears, her mind still struggling to comprehend everything that had just happened.and she could feel her eyes closing by tiredness.

---

The next thing Y/N knew, she was lying in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of the room overwhelming. She blinked, disoriented, as she looked around. Her body felt heavy, sore, and she realized she was hooked up to an IV drip.

It was then that she remembered—she had been rescued. She wasn’t in the forest anymore.

Her chest tightened at the thought of Taehyung. She needed to see him.

The hours passed, and soon, Y/N and Taehyung were in separate rooms. News outlets had already picked up the story of their rescue. Their faces were everywhere.

And their families were informed. And both of their family was there in the hospital.

—

The sterile smell of the hospital room, the buzzing of machines, and the soft beeping of monitors faded into the background as Y/N's world shifted once again. It was hard to focus on the present when the doctor’s words echoed in her mind.

"You're pregnant."

The sentence hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her hands trembling as she tried to process the news. She hadn’t even thought about it. She had been too focused on survival and her pleasure.

The doctor gave her a moment to absorb the information, but the shock was too much. Before she could respond, Y/N’s parents entered the room, their faces a mix of relief and anxiety.

But as soon as her father caught sight of Y/N’s pale face, he turned his attention to the doctor. “What’s going on?”

The doctor glanced at Y/N, who nodded slightly, giving her consent. "She’s pregnant. It’s early, but the tests confirm it."

Her father’s face turned a shade darker, and her mother’s lips trembled as the room filled with tension.

Y/N’s father crossed his arms, glaring at her. "Pregnant? How could this happen? Who’s responsible for this?" His voice was harsh, his disappointment palpable.

Y/N’s heart sank. She had imagined so many different outcomes in her head, but none of them had been like this.

Before she could explain, Taehyung stepped forward, his face a mixture of concern and guilt. “I— I’m the one responsible,” he said, his voice steady, but his eyes avoiding Y/N’s father’s angry gaze. "And I will take full responsibility."

Y/N’s father shook his head in disbelief. “This is unacceptable,” he snapped. “You’re not even engaged, and now you’re telling me my daughter is pregnant? What were you thinking?”

Y/N’s mother began to tear up, her hands wringing together in distress. "This is not how we raised you, Y/N. This is... this is a mistake."

But before things could escalate further, Taehyung spoke again, his voice unwavering. “I understand your anger, and I won’t ask for forgiveness. But I promise you, I will do everything I can to make things right.” He turned to Y/N’s father, his gaze sincere. “I will marry her. I don’t care about the circumstances. I want to marry Y/N. It’s my choice.”

The room went silent as Y/N’s parents took in his words. Her father, still angry, stepped back, glaring at Taehyung, but his words were lost in the growing tension.

On the other side of the room, Y/N could see Taehyung’s parents standing stiffly, their eyes wide with shock. His father, a tall, imposing man, stood with his arms crossed, his mouth set in a tight line. His mother, usually composed, looked as if she had just been struck by something unexpected.

Taehyung’s father cleared his throat, his voice deep and controlled. “Taehyung… we had hoped you would have more sense than this.”

Taehyung stood tall, not backing down. “I’m sorry, Father. I truly am. But I can’t keep living my life the way you want me to. I’m not marrying someone I don’t love, someone I didn’t choose. I choose Y/N. And I will make it work, no matter what it takes.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. She had always admired Taehyung’s strength, but in this moment, it was his vulnerability that stood out. She hadn’t realized until now how much he had been carrying, how much he had been holding back.

Her gaze flickered to his hand. The ring that had once been a symbol of his upcoming marriage, the ring he had worn for duty was gone. Y/N felt a relief in her chest as she processed the absence of the ring, a silent statement of everything that had changed.

He noticed her gaze and, without a word, gently held up his hand. “I don’t need it anymore. I’m not bound by it. I’m choosing my own future. And it’s with you, Y/N.”

Her breath caught in her throat. It was more than just a confession—it was a promise.

“You’ve always had a choice,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I never wanted you to feel trapped by anything.”

Taehyung smiled softly, his eyes full of affection. “I know. And now, I’m choosing the life I want. I’m choosing you.”

Y/N’s parents exchanged uncertain glances, the tension in the room palpable. Her father opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything further, Taehyung continued.

“I understand you’re upset, and I can’t ask you to forgive me right away,” Taehyung said, his tone respectful yet firm. “But I promise you, I will make sure that Y/N and the baby are well taken care of. I will take responsibility, and I will make sure she has everything she needs.”

Y/N’s father finally spoke, his voice quieter now but still firm. “I don’t know if I can ever accept this, Taehyung. But you’re right about one thing—you have to live your life for yourself. And if you truly love her, I can’t stand in the way.”

Her mother wiped her tears, her voice soft as she looked at Y/N. “I don’t agree with how this happened, but if you’re both determined... then we’ll try to support you.”

Taehyung nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “Thank you. I promise I won’t let you down.”

As the conversation turned to plans for the future, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of peace settle over her. Despite everything—despite the shock, the disappointment, the anger—they were going to be okay. She wasn’t alone.

And as Taehyung leaned over to her, his hand gently brushing her cheek, his eyes soft and filled with love, she knew, deep down, that this wasn’t the end of their journey. It was just the beginning.

“Are you sure about this?” Y/N whispered.

Taehyung smiled, his voice full of determination. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And as the room filled with the hum of activity, Y/N leaned into Taehyung, feeling the weight of everything that had happened, and everything that was yet to come. Together, they would face it all.

END.

#love #bts fanfic #dark romance #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung ff #taehyung imagine #bts #bts ff #bts fic

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