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everythingisromant1c · 1 month

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It's Always Been You - Chapter 12

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Things hadn't gotten much better with James, and you knew you could only go so long without talking to him—after all, he was still your best friend. But, considering all that'd happened, along with some encouragement from your friends, you knew the time had come to finally admit you wanted more than that.

wc [6.2k]

a/n: alr guys ... very happy and also sad to say this is the last chapter of it's always been you!! :( i've loved every minute of writing this series as well as sharing it (its become my baby atp), and it is definitely because of all the love and support everyone reading has given it. thank u to everyone stuck around to this point, & i hope u guys enjoy this last chapter!! i send all my hugs and kisses <3 - e

all chapters | <- Chapter 11

It'd been another hour or two until everyone had fully returned from Hogsmeade and dinner was being served in the Great Hall. You finally changed out of your dress and into your everyday clothing again, already feeling better, but that didn't mean you felt good. You didn't think you could feel good when both your brain and heart were hurting like they were. And worst of all, the one person you'd go to in times like these for comfort was the same person you couldn't go to. Not now.

The girls had been doing their best to get your mind off of everything that had happened that day, aside from when Marlene profusely apologized to you for letting Potter hear her outburst in the common room.

"Although, I have to say," she admitted afterward. "I'm not completely sorry for him that he had to hear it. I may be brutal but I never tell a lie."

That fact didn't leave you as you sat with her and Lily in the Great Hall for dinner, a number of seats away from the other Marauders. You recognized with a skip in your heartbeat that James was with them, surprisingly enough since you knew how he was accustomed to skipping meals in the dining hall when he wanted to be alone, a habit you both unfortunately shared. But that didn't mean he was enjoying himself either.

You could see even from your seat down the table that he wasn't saying much, mostly keeping to himself quietly, something so out of character for him yet you'd seen him do it constantly the entire week. You wanted to yell at him and shake him silly, but you also wanted to hug him. When you caught yourself in the midst of those thoughts you turned back to your own spot at the table shamefully.

You tried to force yourself to eat, catching your friends' concerned looks at your full plate, but you didn't feel much like it. Especially not when you still felt maybe a dozen pairs of eyes on you from every corner of the Great Hall.

Even with all that'd happened since just that morning, the rumors and whatever else people had come up with to talk about had not yet been forgotten about by the school like your friends said it would be. Then you thought about whether news had spread of your disastrous date in Hogsmeade, and prayed that nobody had caught wind of that incident either. You didn't think you could handle any more of the staring.

Immediately after you had that thought, you spotted a fifth-year in Ravenclaw robes walking past your table, watching as he blatantly pointed at you as he spoke to his friend, and you looked down at your plate with hardened eyes.

You heard Marlene scoff from next to you. "Hey!" she called to the boy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

The fifth-year didn't respond to her but looked to his friend, hurriedly taking a seat at his own table, his whispers being drowned out in the loudness of the dining hall.

Marlene fumed from next to you. "I can't believe these people. Are they really that bored with their own lives that they're so obsessed with a bloody rumor?"

You shook your head toying with your fork. "Just ignore them. That's what I've settled on doing."

She sighed from beside you and you thought that'd be the end of everything, until you heard gasps from down the table. You looked up and followed the sounds and were met with a sight not even the magic of Hogwarts could've prepared you for.

James—your James—had stood up on the bench he'd once been sitting in, and you thanked Merlin he wasn't standing fully on the table; though you had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be up to, you knew it couldn't be anything good. He cupped a hand to his mouth as your heartrate picked up.

"Can I have everyone's attention?"

He didn't have to ask twice for it. His voice boomed out loudly, something that seemed to come naturally to him, and the noise in the Great Hall had died out in a mere second until it was almost completely silent—quiet enough for you to hear the beating of your heart in your chest as you looked up at him. Your throat went dry.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business," he started confidently to the hundreds of eyes now looking at him, tone nothing but sober. "But nothing happened in the broom closet. Or in the locker room."

You felt the churning in your stomach claw up into your throat, then felt it drop back down, keeping you stationed in your seat. He didn't give much context to his declaration, but with the popularity of the topic amongst the school, it didn't seem like he needed to. His voice almost seemed to echo, all other noises drowning out as everyone stared up at him. James looked around the entire room appearing completely unafraid and you didn't know how the hell he did it; you probably looked more fearful than him.

"So," he began again, "I don't want to see or hear anyone talking about those rumors any longer. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me. Alright?"

Of course, nobody said anything then, but you could see in their eyes that they were going to listen to him. Or at least, they'd make sure they didn't get caught going against him. Maybe it was from his impenetrably confident voice or his respected status around the school, you weren't sure, but he had that unique effect on people in an almost effortless way.

When it was clear he'd gotten his point across, he scanned his eyes over the sea of students until they found yours. In a dizzying way, it felt like you were the only two in the room for a moment, as cliché as the thought sounded in your head.

You didn't know what had motivated him to do what he did, but you could see in his eyes something fragile that juxtaposed the self-assured look they'd had only seconds ago. He looked away again and stepped back down to floor level once more, not taking a moment before striding out of the Great Hall, his form disappearing seconds after.

Even without his physical presence, his action seemed to linger over the room for a moment more before chatter broke out once again. You were still frozen in place, not knowing if moving would finalize the idea that whatever just happened was real and not just part of some wild dream.

Marlene had confirmed that it definitely had happened, however, when she turned to you with her jaw dropped, an amazed but delighted sparkle in her eye. "Someone tell me you saw that too."

"Oh we saw it," rang Lily, who also looked much too happy about that fact, probably just relieved James's antics weren't centered on her for once. You could see them both staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to react. You could also see the boys in your peripheral, the three of them remaining at the table searching your face for a reaction.

Yet, all you could do was stand up and walk hurriedly towards the exit. Dozens of conversations rushed past your ears as you did, a blur of remarks ranging from "Potter's lost it" to "He's so bloody fit." Whatever they were saying, you noted with gratefulness in the back of your mind that none of the conversations were about you.

You reached the doorway and stopped once you were a safe distance away in the hallway, heaving breaths in for a moment to yourself before finding that you weren't alone. All of your friends had followed you without blinking an eye, and you didn't know whether you found it endearing or inconvenient. Though, to be fair, you didn't know where you were going. You just knew you couldn't sit there and pretend as if nothing had happened.

You blinked at the three boys who neared you with puzzled looks on each of their faces. "Did you guys know anything about this?"

"No," promised Sirius. "In fact, James has hardly said anything to us since this morning."

You shook your head to yourself, feeling breathless. "I can't ... believe he would do that."

"Really?" Lily stared at you. "I mean, it's Potter we're talking about. It's exactly something he would do."

You couldn't fight the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips even as you shook your head. You ran a hand over your hair as the blonde from next to you hit you in the shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" You frowned over at her as she stared at you expectantly. "Go to him."

You stilled, gaping at her. "What?"

"Go to him. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

You tipped your head at her like it would help you understand her better, parting your drying lips. "I thought you said he was a selfish git." You heard Remus snort from beside you.

"I did, sure," reasoned Marlene, not without a hint of pride. "But only because I thought he was ruining your chances of moving on now that you were over him. But seriously, I can see your face when you look at him." She shook her head. "That's not the look of someone who wants to move on."

Your eyes flickered over her face as she spoke, an infinite number of thoughts overtaking you. In the silence of your thinking, a Hufflepuff boy walked past the six of you in the hallway, staring all the while.

"What are you looking at?" snapped Marlene, turning to him without missing a beat. "Did you not just hear Potter?"

Like he'd heard him loud and clear, and also like he was scared of Marlene, he hurried away with his head bent forward. Satisfied, the blonde turned back to you. At your conflicted expression, she asked, "Well?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "It's just that," you began, not even knowing where you were going with your rambling. "I've spent so long trying to get over him. It's not fair to myself to just forget all of that, and it definitely wasn't fair to Sebastian-"

"For Merlin's sake," cut in Lily, to your surprise. "You keep talking about what's fair and what's unfair, but what about you? What do you want?"

You stared at her, beginning to feel breathless under the eyes of all your friends. "It's not just about what I want. It's not that simple."

"But what if it is?" she questioned. "I know how difficult this has all been for you. And I know you said Potter doesn't just get to realize his feelings for you and suddenly be with you, that it doesn't work like that. But what if it does?" She raised her hands at her sides. "Not everything is a perfect story to tell. Especially not when it comes to you two. It's not every day you fall in love with your best friend and he finally sees that he's fallen for you too. Are you seriously going to let him go because of some made-up system of rules?"

Your breath was becoming staggering now, and you didn't know what to think, because everything they were telling you sounded so right.

"I don't know," you began unsurely. "Of course, I don't want to lose him. Not talking to him for the past week has been harder than I ever could've imagined. I don't even know what it would feel like to have to do it for longer than I already have been." You blinked down at your shoes, truly realizing those things at the same rate you said them. "I think I just ... miss him."

"Of course you miss him." Marlene looked at you sympathetically. "That's why I think you should go tell all this to him."

You felt bile rising in your throat. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me after all we've said to each other."

"Are you joking?" Remus butted in exasperatedly. "Prongs is bloody in love with you. Can't you see that?"

"Remus," you warned softly because you didn't know how much more of this hope you could take before you did something you'd regret.

"I'm telling the truth." His voice was heavy with meaning. "Maybe it took him a while to realize it himself, but the rest of us have had to sit back and watch you both act like you don't have feelings for each other for years. Believe me, the only reason he's in his room right now and not with you is because he thinks that's what you want."

Your brows pinched. "You can't truly know that."

"Really?" he laughed. "What do you think we talked about that night Vance asked you out?"

Your expression faltered and you forced yourself to think back to the night James had begun acting distant from you, though it wasn't difficult to, the storyline of it all clicking into place in your head.

"You," breathed Remus. "We talked about you."

"Not to mention," Sirius added, "we're the ones who've had to spend every night in our dorm listening to him bitch and moan about Vance this and Vance that." You swallowed at your friends' words, but they didn't quit.

"And we know James was being a right idiot today," Sirius insisted honestly. "But you should've seen him this morning right after you two argued. He was heartbroken. More than he'd ever been over Evans." He turned to the redhead in question. "No offense, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes lightheartedly. "Trust me, Black, none taken."

He nodded and turned back to you swiftly. "So for you to think that James would want anything other than to fix things with you and just be with you is bloody mental."

You stared at all of your friends who were looking so determinedly back at you that you didn't think you could tell them 'no' now. But still, your feet didn't budge.

"It's not just that," you almost whispered. "I guess I'm just ... scared. What if it goes wrong and we get into some ridiculous fight again? What then?"

Marlene took a hold of your shoulders, slightly scaring you in her resoluteness. "Potter just stood up and yelled at the entire bloody school and you're trying to tell us you'rescared?" She shook you a little, and your friends smirked from behind her. "Be a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! Go to him!"

Before you could say anything more, she was turning you around and shoving you a little until you had the momentum you needed to take steps toward the Gryffindor common room. You made it all the way up the nearest set of steps before you paused, turning back to your friends with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, you guys." You expected them to share the sweet moment with you, but they only rolled their eyes.

"Go, woman!" Sirius groaned, and you rolled your eyes back at them, but it lacked any real annoyance.

You didn't know exactly what you were planning on doing, but you didn't have time to think about it because your legs were carrying you speedily through the halls in your anxious state and wouldn't let you stop until you reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a steadying breath in, you said the password and entered the room.

With everyone else still being at dinner in the Great Hall, it wasn't exactly difficult to find James. He sat in the common room, his brunette head of curls visible to you in the low light. They covered the majority of his face that you could see, his head tipped downwards with his elbows resting on his knees. That changed within the blink of an eye as you entered the room, his head swiftly lifting until he locked eyes with you, and you had to fight a shiver at the feeling it sent shuddering through you.

He seemed to think you were just going to go to your own dorm and ignore him, and he averted his eyes to look somewhere else, maybe the fireplace, until you left—but you didn't. You only walked closer to him until you were separated by only one of the couches, the distance still small enough to make your breathing quicken.

At the soundlessness of your stilled footsteps, James looked back up and met your eyes again, and he swallowed. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to make any move to talk to him that night, even after the scene he'd made in the Great Hall. The problem was that you hadn't expected yourself to either, and now you didn't know what you wanted to say first, because there were certainly a million things you had to make sure he knew.

"Thank you," you said, because you figured it was a good place to start. He nodded up at you, his eyes not revealing much of anything, but you didn't let that sway you. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Of course I did." His voice was stubborn, but too sincere for how little his expression gave away.

You looked down at your feet, letting a moment pass before speaking again. "Well, now it seems like everyone is going to be talking about you from now on."

"That doesn't matter to me." James's voice cut through the air richly, and when you looked back up from the floor he was staring at you meaningfully. "They can say whatever the hell they want. As long as they're not talking about you."

Your shoulders dropped at his words, and the way he held your eyes as he said them made your heart beat faster in your chest. It hadn't even been a full day since you'd last spoken to him, but you already missed him.

"They wouldn't leave you alone," he said concretely, his tone beginning to fill with emotion. "And then, I heard what Marlene said in the common room, about some girl harassing you in the library? I-" he shook his head frustratedly, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands. "I'm just mad at myself that I've let it go on for this long. Or that I didn't even know that happened."

You already felt too emotional for your liking, the feelings inside of you swirling more aggressively at every word he said to you. "It's not like it's your fault, James."

"Well it's not like I did much to stop it, did I?" He seemed genuinely angry at himself now, and you didn't know what you could do to help. A painful lump was rising in your throat, but you stayed rooted in your spot behind the sofa. "And I'd ask you why you didn't come and tell me, but that'd be a bloody stupid question."

He shook his head, eyes becoming wistful like he was recalling a memory, one that pained him. "Earlier, when Marlene was defending you in the common room, the look on your face was ... I don't know. Crushed. Sad."

You swallowed at the memory, because that had been exactly how you were feeling, amongst thousands of other ways. James looked down at his lap.

"I just wanted to try and help, do anything to make that look on your face go away, but I couldn't. So I just kept replaying how you looked in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated myself because I realized you were only hurting because of me. And that was the worst part. Realizing that it was all my fault."

You felt yourself wanting to take a step towards him, wanting to just reach out to him as the tips of your fingers teemed with the longing you felt in your chest. "James," you began, your voice hushed. "It's not all your fault."

You meant it. To try and say to yourself that you had no part in all the confusion between the two of you would be a blatant lie, one that you couldn't let James go on believing, especially not with the pained look on his face.

He only shook his head at you. "It is," he insisted. "And here you go, being perfect towards me when I don't deserve it." A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "Marlene was right. I was being selfish, and petty, and a lot of other things, but most importantly, I wasn't being a good friend." He paused, a grieving confliction tugging at his brow. "That's ... that's not what friends do."

You went still then too, the word 'friend' hanging in the air between you with a weight that only made you tired. The truth was that cobwebs had grown in the house where you'd fostered that unforgiving title, and it felt like some intangible force had locked you both inside with it blindly.

"Yeah, well," you began, your voice small, "we've been doing plenty of things that friends don't do, lately.Like you said, we kissed, right?" You let out a breathy sound like a laugh that lacked any joy, and the way James's eyes flickered up at you knocked the rest of the air right out of you.

"About that," he began hesitantly, and you could tell he was thinking about both the night it'd happened and that morning when you'd fought, just like you were. "I know you don't want that to mean anything, so it- ... it doesn't have to. Even if I want it to. Because it doesn't matter what I want—what matters to me is you."

You were thankful you had the couch next to you to brace a hand on, because you'd never felt so swept up by a conversation and you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the way your heart was nagging at you.

"You were right," swore James, but the slight shake of his eyes back and forth on your face didn't look as adamant as he sounded. "It's not fair for me to expect something from you when you already got over me."

The words you'd shouted at him in Hogsmeade that morning sounded foreign and wrong coming from his lips, and you knew the months of dishonesty that laced them like you knew the back of your hand.

"And it's too late now, I get that." His voice went from deep and determined to on the cusp of breaking, and it killed you. "I just want to know that you're happy, and if being happy means being with Vance instead of me, then ... I can deal with that."

You watched as he swallowed, like he was forcing the words to come from his lips even if it pained him. The way he hadn't broken eye contact with you the whole while was starting to make your head spin.

Your blinking sped up, maybe holding back the emotion you knew you was fighting to come out, and you whispered, "James."

Maybe you hadn't been loud enough, or maybe he just knew you'd try to disagree with him again, but he only continued determinedly at you.

"I know I probably went and ruined your chances with Vance, like an idiot, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you another date with him." He nodded at you once firmly, and within a second he was standing up, taking an intentional step forward. "Hell, I'll even go talk to him right now and-"

"James," you called again, louder this time. "Stop."

You put a hand out and it landed on his arm softly but firmly, and all you could was pray you could find the right words to say to him as he stared at you, level with you now in an unsteadying way.

"You didn't ruin my chances with Sebastian. It wouldn't have worked out regardless, even if I'd wanted it to. Because being with him isn't what I want." You shook your head, recalling back what James had said to you only moments before. "He wouldn't have made me happy." You sounded desperate now. "He's not you."

James stilled, his glistening eyes the only thing showing movement as they danced across your face intensely, though you saw them widen with something bright like hope. "What?"

The confusion of the word that he'd practically whispered out unspeakably attested to how you felt yourself, the terrain of the land you were exploring right there and then with James uncharted and rocky. You pushed on, knowing there was no going back now.

"Marlene wasn't completely right, James. She only said all of those things because I'd spent all this time trying to convince her—and myself—that I didn't still have feelings for you. But I do, clearly." You tipped your head down for a moment in exasperation and exhaustion, willing yourself to keep going. "Everyone can see it. All of our friends. Hell, even Sebastian could see it." You laughed, though your eyes were growing blurry. "So for me to try to push those feelings down any longer would just be lying to you and to myself." You let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm so sick of lying."

Your shoulders sunk as you stood there, a steadily shrinking distance between you and James that was both comforting and daunting to you. You couldn't do anything but watch as James's face stilled and then shifted as he thought, studying your own face in a way that made you conscious of every shift in your expression.

"I just," he began, and then raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you feel like you needed to hide how you felt in the first place?"

You felt your mouth go dry at the question—one you knew came only out of a desperate curiosity and nothing else—and your mind began spinning. The last few years of your friendship seemed to swirl in your head, flickering in and out of focus as you tried to come up with an answer.

"I-" you began, willing yourself to say something, anything at all. "I was scared." The words rang true so much that they made your heart pinch. "Scared that you wouldn't feel the same and I'd go and ruin everything. That I'd lose you."

James's hands lifted up from his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, and he did. He took your hand in his, grasping lightly at your fingertips in a touch that steadied you and made you feel lightheaded at the same time. He shook his head at you with a firm hold in his brow.

"You could never lose me."

His lips were parted, and his hazel eyes glistened over in the low common room lighting like the thought of your suggestion was painful enough on its own. Looking at him then, his face lined with years of a comforting, steadying familiarity, you knew deep in your chest that what he said was true. But that didn't alter all that you'd felt for the past number of years.

"It's not just that," you said, looking down at his hand that held yours and blinking away the guilt that crept into your stomach, because it wasn't James's fault that you had felt this way. "Even in Hogsmeade, James." Your voice was becoming unsteady again and it only frustrated you more. "What if everything you said you felt for me was just some spur-of-the-moment thing from some kiss? What if you didn't feel the same way a week from now? Or a month? I knew I wouldn't be able to get over that fear. Especially when I'd been hiding how I felt from you for years. And then there were your feelings for Lily to think about and ... I don't know."

You trailed off, finally able to stop yourself. You felt petty, so petty, because you were so close to getting what you knew your heart wanted, but you felt the insistent need to ruin things for yourself and think of every way things could go wrong. You'd never felt closer to James then, but also never farther away. All you could do was stand there and wait for him to say something, anything.

James stayed unmoving for a beat staring at you, wordlessly taking everything in with a fragility in the air that hallowed your labored breathing. Then he started to shake his head like he was in disbelief. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"For Merlin's sake."

His voice was low, a mutter, and he stared at the ground for a moment in thought before dropping the hand that once held yours, turning and walking away from you, leaving up the steps to his dorm room. You watched his back as he disappeared, your fingertips feeling cold and empty.

You felt your blinking speed up in a dizzying confusion. You didn't know what had come over you, not even sure exactly what you'd said in all of your desperate rambling that had made him decide to leave, but your vision started to blur even more than it already had until you recognized the wetness forming beside your eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not then, and not in the last twenty-four hours. You moved until you were sitting down on the couch in front of you, feeling lightheaded as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. The light from outside had left with the sun and the room had a comforting kind of warm lighting, though even that did little to soothe you as you sat there with all the unresolved feelings within you.

You were confused and lost and wanted nothing more than to just fix things, but you were even more at a loss for words when you heard quick footsteps coming from the staircase James had left from, and then saw his returning form making its way down the steps.

You turned your head to him swiftly in confusion, following him and his soft but energetic steps as he came to sit next to you, and that was when you noticed he was holding something—a box. One that was tattered on the corners, its black fabric aged and dusting over.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, brows tugging in all your bewilderment as you waited for James to explain.

"I-" he began, and stopped as soon as his eyes focused more on your face. You must've looked as broken as you felt, and at seeing the look on your face, he held one of your hands in his before swiping across your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb.

You felt like wilting under his soft touch that you'd missed more than anything in the confusing weeks, mentally and physically exhausted from everything but still wanting more than anything to understand.

When you looked perhaps more stable, he looked back at the box that he'd set down beside him and placed it on his lap delicately as he spoke, his words echoing out slowly.

"I know you think I've just realized my feelings for you a week ago, and that they came from some kiss at a party. But, you have to believe me when I say that they're so much more than that." He placed the box in your hands, and you took it from him with a note of fragility, resting it atop your legs. His eyes bore into yours, like it would break him if you couldn't understand the words leaving his lips. He took a shaky breath in. "I need you to know, more than anything, that you're everything to me. You always have been."

Your lips began to shake at the earth-shattering words coming from your best friend's lips. "James, what-"

He stopped you with a gesture of his head that told you to look inside the box, and you did. Carefully, you lifted the flimsy cardboard top and placed it to the side, brows pulling together tight and something loud and hearty threatening to pull from your chest. You shook your head as tears began to well over your eyes again as you recognized what James had given you.

The box, the measly and old mess of cardboard and paper, was full of all the letters you'd written to him over the years—all the thank you notes, the letters you'd sent him from that summer and all the past ones—every single one of them. Your eyes raked over each of them when you felt too stunned to use your hands, but your heart still felt touched by the memories of each one all the same. It took everything in you not to release the sob you felt rising in your lungs.

"It's you. It's always been you."

James's eyes never left your face as you took everything in, the look behind them never having seemed so determined, so desperate. But there was something behind the way he looked at you, something so warm and honest, so familiar that you felt ridiculous for never noticing it before. And when your gaze flickered downward for a second in contemplation he tipped his head to follow it endearingly.

"Always," he promised. "Not Evans, not anyone else. I know I'm a bloody idiot, and I know I haven't been great at showing my emotions when it comes to you, but that's because it's you, and you mean everything to me and have since we were kids, and if this can't make you see that then I promise I'll spend every day trying to make up for it, and-"

"James." You stopped him, not knowing how much longer you could take sitting next to him and not getting rid of the frustrated crease between his brows, or how much longer you could ignore the thrum of your heart that called out to him so clearly now.

"Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were like a deer in headlights. The warmth in their color reflected the simmering warmth from the fireplace, but that didn't compare to the fire that lay behind his gaze.

You placed the box, his box of the last six years of your friendship and then some, atop the couch next to you, and didn't wait another second before engulfing him in a hug. Your body crashed into his as he leaned back against the couch, his hands coming up to embrace you right away, and you heard him breathe a smile by your ear before he laughed, a perfect noise.

You felt like laughing then too, and crying, and everything else, because you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to hold him like this without the fear of revealing too much to him nagging at you. Your cheek pressed against his neck, his curls fanned against the top of your head, his hands held you tight, and you never wanted to leave the safety of his arms. Except to do one thing.

You pulled away from the hug and so did James after a second, his eyes wide and glistening but truly happy. He was smiling widely, his lopsided grin appearing after days like the sun after a storm, and you loved the sight more than anything, locking it away in the back of your mind as a memory you'd keep forever, like the box that sat next to you.

You laid a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and James grasped the one that was flattened on his chest in his own, quickly glancing down at your hand in his like he couldn't believe he was holding it. He pulled you into him with it and leaned his head on yours.

"It's always been you, too," you whispered, and his eyes glanced down at your lips as you said the quiet words that'd been lingering on your lips for much too long. You had to push away your smile because you were aching to just kiss him like you'd wanted to for years. With a courage that could've only come from Godric himself, you finally did.

You leaned in until your lips met, a flutter of skin dancing shyly together until you leaned into him even further, and suddenly it felt like the crash of a wave, and sounded like the earth was moving beneath your feet, the sound of something right—and this time, you knew it felt the same for him too, because you could feel his boyish grin that you'd spent years admiring tugging against your lips.

You were kissing your best friend. For real this time. It felt so impossible for your mind to imagine such a thing, but luckily it didn't have to.

James moved his hands but they never left you, one sliding through your hair smoothly and one delicately holding your waist like you were something fragile. Butterflies fluttered through you at his touch, something familiar but foreign, wrong but also right, and somessilyperfect. You couldn't believe you'd spent all those years just a few words away from getting to feel it, getting to be surrounded by it.

You pulled away after a moment, your lips feeling puffy and burning with the heat of his kiss, but all you could think about was how free you felt, how happy you were that he was finally yours.

James looked down at you, his eyes dancing all across your face and stopping on your lips, and then somehow growing even warmer when they met yours again.

"I can't-" he began with a slight disbelieving shake of his head, voice coming out breathless and dazed as heat flushed into your own cheeks at the sight. "I can't believe..."

You laughed, feeling out of breath too, and adjusted the glasses that now perched crookedly on James's nose in an agonizingly cute way.

"Me neither," you finished for him, because you knew just how he felt, a secret the both of you shared; it was the only secret you still wanted to keep.

And it was a feeling you never wanted to have to live without again. Though now, with him in your arms and his familiar chocolate curls still brushing against your forehead, you knew you would never have to.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman @bambi-jp @babyclea @kenjikishimotoswifey @cloudroomblog @the-marauders-mapp @mooonyxoxo @imgondeletedis @moon-flowerrs @fruticake @arey0usirius @marauroon @swiftsgirlfriend @jamieolivia27 @magicwithaknife

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judeisbae · 7 months

Text

Till' Death Do Us Part

In which: After a night full of celebration, love and alcohol, the newly weds Jude and Y/N finally get to experience one another in a brand new way. tags: Virgin!reader(religious), Virgin!Jude, soft!sex, semi experienced Jude, semi experienced reader. warnings: Praise!kink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, mentions of semen, cursing, unprotected sex (lmk if I missed anything)

enjoy ->

1:23 am, Ocho Rios, Jamaica

The loud, upbeat music flooded the venue, so loud that it was impossible to hear the voices of those around you, but you could hear Jude's words of affection oh so clearly. In the middle of the crowded dance floor, the two of you clung to each other as if it was the first time in years you had been in one another's embrace. With your head tucked at the base of his neck and his hands adorning your hip and lower back, the two of you stood, eyes closed fully experiencing each others affection. "I think we should head to our room love, have our first bit of alone time as a married couple y'know" you whispered in Jude's ear, tilting your head up and gently grazing your lips against the lobe of his ear. Jude, pulling back to make eye contact with you, gave a smile filled with content, nodding his head in agreement to your statement.

Hand in hand, the two of you stumbled through the crowd after having more than a few glasses of champagne during the reception, giving smiles and "thank you for coming"s to your guests. Walking away from your beachfront venue heading back up the steps toward the hotel, giggling like teenagers on your first date. Reaching your room door, the two of you smile at each other, making your way through the door. "Y/n" Jude called to you, bringing your attention to him, patting the area on the mattress next to where he was seated, motioning for you to sit next to him. Settling onto the bed next to Jude, taking his face into your palms you inch closer to him, eventually allowing your lips to melt against his. The kisses you two shared were always tender and gentle, but this was different, new. Both of you wrapping your arms around one another, sighed a breath of contentment into the kiss. Softly pulling back, Jude spoke in a gentle tone, "Y/n, I want to make you a promise, different from the one we made earlier. I want to promise you that I will forever prove to you, day after day, that what we have is the most important and dear thing I've ever experienced in my life, I promise to continue to show you how much I love you, in every way possible. The feelings you give me compare to nothing else. I owe you everything Y/n, thank you for always supporting me, and loving me everyday, through everything" . Tears brimming both your and his eyes as his sentence came to a close. "Jude you're like actually making me cry right now please", You sniffed with a laugh, "But in all seriousness, Jude you mean so much to me that I struggle to put it into words each day, I swear at this point I could go longer without food and water than I could without you," both of you laughing at your statement.

Placing his hand on your cheek, Jude pulls you back into the kiss. Sinking into his touch, you let out a soft moan, "Jude I think i'm ready to have sex with you, for so many reasons" you say as you pull back abruptly, Looking you in the eyes with his, that in this moment, seem to shine brighter than the stars, he responds out of breath, "I think I am too, love". The two of you fall back into your kiss, his hands making their way around your waist and up your back to toy with the zipper of your cocktail dress. As he begins to pull the zipper down your back, your hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest to begin to undo the buttons on his shirt. Being raised in a very Christian household, the ideology of sex being a gift from God for married couples resonated with you, and you had decided to honor this through your life, you and Jude had met at around 15 years old, the age where sex is absolutely in the air amongst teens, pressure on young couples to just "get it over with". A little bit into your relationship with Jude, you had explained to him your feelings towards sex before marriage. Jude had admiration for you and your firm commitment to your beliefs. He made a promise that he would be with you, whether or not the two of you had sex. You were more than appreciative to have a man like him in your life.

Jude's hands moved back up to slide the thin dress straps off of each of your shoulders, once again pulling away from the kiss, his head dipped, delving into the crook of your neck where he began leaving a trail of warm, open mouthed kisses all the way to the curve of your shoulder. Your hands that previously fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, moved to the back of his head. Jude's actions had you longing for him, a heat floating down to your lower abdomen, turning into a growing wetness between your legs. You pushed Jude's shirt over his broad shoulders, his hands leaving your sides so he could pull them out of his sleeves. Focusing his attention back onto you, Jude gently pushed you down onto the bed, with his hand on your side for support. Standing up, he moved to the foot of the bed and began undoing his dress pants, with your eyes fixated on the skillful movements of his hands, you slowly pushed your dress down your sides, shimmying your hips to prevent it from bunching there. Once it was finally down you pushed it off the side of the bed. Jude has also finished removing his pants, he stepped out of where they lay at his feet, left in his gray boxers that left little to the imagination.

As he climbed back on top of you, you couldn't help but let your eyes wander, down to his chest first, then to his abs, toned and faintly shining in the dim lighting of the room, then to his well accentuated v-line. The sight of him like this was something to you knew would be burned into your mind. Your eyes trailed back up to his, meeting once again, his already fixated on your face. Jude placed one hand on your hip, toying with the side of your black lace underwear. His kisses began once again on your neck, gradually moving down to your chest. Jude had never done this before, the only reason he had somewhat of an idea of how to do any of this is because he had spoken to some close friends, done some internet surfing, and payed extra attention to all the things that seemed to excite you during the times the two of you made out, all in an effort to please you to his best ability in this moment.

Jude kissed your breasts where they spilled out of your bra, going down your stomach with hot kisses, exuding adoration. When he reached the band of your underwear he looked up at you giving a warm smile, Jude pressed a kiss to your clit through your underwear, letting out a muffled "I love you" while he did this. Hooking his fingers under the side of your underwear, he slowly pulled them down, leaving you in just your bra. When your underwear reached your ankles, he placed them to the side. He placed the first, open mouthed kiss onto your pussy, which was soaked with anticipation. The feeling of his lips against your desperate cunt sending a wave of heat through your body, causing you to inhale sharply, hips bucking upwards towards his face, your body practically begging him for more. Jude of course, granted this, delving down to your opening and separating your folds with the delicate tip of his tongue. Jude began his movements on your cunt, the feeling of his lips, tongue, the stubble on his face, and his two large hands gripping you're thighs, was unimaginable, and incomparable to anything you've ever felt.

Jude's face was buried deep between your legs. Your moans filled the room, increasing by octaves the closer you got to your high. As you finally arrived to your orgasm, Jude's grip on your thighs tightened, in response to your involuntary squirming. He pulled away from your cunt, face glistening with your slick, he flashed you a smile, melting your heart that was still racing from your high. Still in a daze, you quickly removed your bra, straddling Jude, who was now sitting on the bed next to where you previously lay. Placing a quick kiss to his lips, you shifted your focus down towards his lap, one of his hands found its way between the two of you. Jude positioned himself at your entrance, his tip prodding at the place you needed him the most. He used the hand that rested on your hip to begin to lower you onto him, the feeling had a light sting, which was soon overpowered by a full feeling as he bottomed out inside of you. One of Jude's hands came up to your cheek to lift your face, causing you to make eye contact with him. He had an endearing look in his eyes, Jude had always looked at you like you were an angel roaming this Earth, admiration in every glance, you truly were his everything. Your movements were slow, you lifted your hips with shaky breaths, your eyes still not leaving his, even as they began to flutter.

Sinking back down onto him, you let out a breathy moan. Jude's head began to fall back, his prominent Adam's apple grabbing your focus. The two of you, moving in sync, basking in the newfound feeling. Your pace increased, riding him with passion. As your movements continued your hips began tiring, Jude took notice. He bucked his hips, now fucking into you from beneath, the feeling was indescribable. His lips then met your chest, leaving kisses on and around your breasts. As you felt him begin to twitch inside of you, you pulled him into a kiss, the two of your moans clashing. The heat in your stomach grew into a flame, your cunt fluttering around him. The two of your climaxes were seconds away. "Jude please don't stop, so fkn' good" you cried out, throwing your head back simultaneously. Both of you finally arrived at your highs his cum inside of you only added to the sensation of fullness in your cunt, the room was filled with passionate moans, whispers of affection, and the sounds of the heavy breaths from the two of you. Bringing his attention to your eyes, Jude moved to kiss you, the kiss was slow and loving, almost like a silent gesture of his gratuity. "So happy to have you as my wife love", Jude smiled, pulling away.

"first round 2 in the shower?"

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude #fanfic #imagines #jb5 #rma #real madrid #jude bellingham imagine #hey jude #la liga #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude victor willliam bellingham

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russellsppttemplates · 8 months

Note

Hi Inês hope you’re doing good. Just thought about Lando being absolutely the sweetest with his pregnant girl. Maybe she’d be insecure but he’d do everything in his power to make her feel good and comfortable in her changing body and he’d be so proud he’s going to be a dad and always mention it in interview, to his friends and everywhere really

Cw: reader's insecurity about her pregnant body

It started as something small and barely noticeable. You started showing when the weather got colder, so it was natural to have more layers on, making your outfits lose the tight fitted shape, and Lando wanted you to be warm and comfy, so he didn't think of it at first. When you started getting ready and dressed in the bathroom, however, that tipped the scales in your husband's head that there was something going on.

"I want to have some cuddles with my two favourite people", Lando said as he laid in bed, ready to unwind from the day, "sure, I'll just put my pyjamas on, I'll be right back", you mumbled, the uneasiness clear in your voice as you made your way to the ensuite.

"Actually, baby, I wanted to talk to you about that", he began, catching your attention as you sat down on the bed where he patted his hand, "you've been very kept to yourself, and you never undress here in the room if I'm here. Is there something wrong?", he asked.

You knew better than to lie through your teeth, so you let it out, "my body has changed a lot recently, and I didn't even think I'd be this bothered by it. I never fit into the patterns that society defined so I thought I would be fine. It's just stretch marks and me getting bigger, it's not like it hasn't happened before", you scoffed as tears gathered in your waterline, "bu- but, It's a lot to take in. Every day there's something new I notice", you bit your bottom lip.

"Every single day there's something new and gorgeous about you, you're right, baby", Lando smiled, wiping the stray tear that fell on your cheek, "May I?", he asked as he lifted your shirt once you gave him consent, "your body is growing our babygirl, Y/N, and you look so gorgeous while doing it", he complimented.

"There's that old wives tale that says that if you're having a baby girl, it means the mother doesn't have that glow or beauty because the daughter is stealing them from her, but that's not true. Everyday you get more beautiful to me. Your tummy is making sure she's safe inside and nothing bad happens to her, your boobs will make sure she's fed and growing as she should", he smiled, tracing patterns in the skin before he unbuttoned the skirt you were wearing, glad the fabric was kept together by the buttons on the side of your thigh so you wouldn't have to move to be left in your underwear.

"All of you is beautiful, and I'm going to show you just that", he moved to hold your ankle, "these are making sure you're moving throughout the pregnancy, and they're so soft an-", he was interrupted, "Lando, they're swollen, Mila even compared them to one of her balloons the oth-".

"Shhhh, I'm not finished...! And your strong, thick thighs, I've always loved them, making sure you'll be ready for when the time comes to bring her earthside. These hips, I always get lost in them, and they're so gorgeous and perfect for me to hold you against my body, your tummy protecting our daughter, all of you", he kissed as he went along, bringing a smile to your face at his sillyness despite the serious tone, "I meant every word, Y/N, I love you, I'm in awe of you everyday, I'm proud of you for telling me how you feel and I'll remind you everyday of that", he kissed your lips, "you're the most beautiful woman in the world, baby".

"Does this look nice?", you looked at your husband through the mirror, not knowing if the dress was flaterring. Ever the funny one, Lando mimicked something going through his heart, falling dramatically on the bed, "woman, you're going to kill me with all of your beauty!", he exaggerated.

Giggling at his antics, you pulled him up to his feet, "you look gorgeous, baby, absolutely gorgeous", he complimented, making you twirl before he kissed your lips.

Already in the paddock, Natalie wa she first to talk about you, "I saw you arrive to the track today with a very special guest. How is everything going?", she questioned.

"Fantastic! It's great having my wife here this weekend, it's my home race so it wasn't hard for her to travel here, which is getting a little trickier now that she's pregnant, but yes, very good", Lando beamed at the mention of you.

"It's always good to have support around and you've been together for a while, too!", she noted.

"Yes! And we're having a baby, so it's been extra special making these memories together. She's sitting in the front here actually, I'm not sure you can see her", Lando pointed to the side of the stage he was facing, "you can't see how gorgeous she looks today, and she's very pregnant so I won't make her get up, but that just means you'll have to go online and see my very own beautiful superwoman", he gushed, the praise directed towards always coming to him so effortlessly.

"She does indeed look amazing! Hi, Y/N!", Natalie waved, "what a great Silverstone Grand Prix we're going to have, I'm sure!".

"Did you know that he told everyone in the driver's debrief that you were joining us today?", Oscar pointed out while you had lunch, his son Lucas drawing with you on his colouring book, "Lando!", you scolded softly, blushing at the thought of your husband pestering the rest of the grid, "what? They all know we're having a little Norris and they always ask about you, so I told them you were here this weekend!".

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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avastrasposts · 10 months

Text

A Baker's Dozen - Two

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I'm so overwhelmed and grateful for all the lovely comment you all left on the first part of A Baker's Dozen! I'm having so much fun exploring what it's like to write for different Pedro boys and finding their voices.

For those of you who are new, we've got twelve Pedro boys, twelve short stories, each set in the same bakery.

It's fluff and sweetness, lots of food and flirting. Series Master List

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring

The glare is what catches your eye first, sunlight bounces off the shiny metal surface and hits your face through the window. You shield your eyes and glance at the door as it swings open, for a second you can’t see who steps through, you’re almost blinded, but as the door swings closed, he, or she, comes into focus.

“Hi, welcome!” you say, trying to keep your voice steady as the imposing figure takes a few tentative steps into your bakery.

“Heading for a con?” you ask, glancing up and down the impressive outfit.

“A con?”

The voice that comes through the helmet is deep and resonates through what almost sounds like a speaker. It’s definitely a man, if the sheer size of the body didn’t give it away. He’s tall, broad and made even broader by the metal pauldrons on his shoulders. A heavy belt hangs around his narrow waist as if to emphasize the sheer build of this hunk of metal that’s standing in the middle of your shop, looking somewhat lost despite the fact that you can't see his face under a solid looking metal helmet.

“Yeah, like a convention, where people meet and dress as their favorite characters from tv-shows and stuff. Are you going to a con?”

“No,” comes the short answer.

He looks around the bakery, the black T of his visor seemingly scanning the selection of bread and cakes you have for sale today.

“Something smells…good,” he says, turning his helmet back onto you and you can’t help but smile.

“Thanks, yeah, I had a pretty tasty selection today, but most of it’s already been sold,” you wave your hand over the mostly empty display cases, “Do you want to buy something?”

“I…don’t think I have credit,” he hesitates but he takes another step into the shop, glancing down at the croissants stacked in a basket next to the till.

“We accept cash too,” you reply, “you don’t need a credit card.”

“No, I mean, I don’t have the right…currency for your world.”

“Oh…” you frown, did he just say ‘your world’?

You mentally shake your head, a misunderstanding, surely.

“I mean, I could let you sample something, then maybe you’ll come back with the right currency,” you say, smiling at the man. He sounds a bit confused and your customer service persona kicks in, unwilling to let someone leave without trying something that’ll get them to come back.

“I don't know what you sell here,” he says, “I have never seen food like this before.”

“Oh, really? What kind of baked goods do you have where you’re from?” you ask, surprised, you were sure pretty anyone would recognise at least a muffin and a cookie, both on display in your cases.

The tall metal man comes closer, standing next to the counter and looking at the selection, “We have many baked things where I’m from, but I have never tried any of them.”

“You’ve never had dessert?” you ask incredulously, “I have dessert every day, it’s a must!”.

“I’m Mandalorian, food is only energy for our bodies, we don’t indulge in it,” he straightens up when he says it, his hands falling to his hips. He looks imposing, like a warrior all of a sudden, and his voice takes on a serious note.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t know that was a thing, a mandalorian, huh” you raise your eyebrows, this guy doesn’t even seem like a cosplayer. Or he’s really in character.

“Are you not allowed to eat dessert at all, or is it just like, not an everyday kinda thing?”

“I can eat what I want but I’ve never had a need for dessert,” the voice coming through the helmet is a rich baritone, but holds a guarded edge, like the owner is trying to navigate something unfamiliar.

“I mean…technically there’s never a need for dessert, but I eat it everyday anyway. A good dessert is sometimes the only way to fix a bad day,” you give him your warmest smile, trying to make him feel a bit more at ease as you go back to straightening up your counter for the end of the day.

“What’s this?” The man points to the croissants on the counter and you pick one up with the tongs, holding it out to him.

“It’s a croissant, a French type of pastry. It’s not sweet, just has a metric ton of butter in it. It’s really flaky as you can see. Go on, try it.”

“I don’t remove my helmet in front of other people,” he replies and your eyebrows shoot even higher up into your hairline.

“What…but why?” The second the question comes out of your mouth you regret it, “Sorry, don’t answer that, it’s none of my business.”

“You can ask, I don’t mind,” he says and you think you hear a slight smile from behind the helmet. “I’m Mandalorian, it’s my religion, and we don’t remove our helmets in front of others, it is the way.”

“So you only eat alone?” you ask, curiosity overtaking your embarrassment and he nods.

“Yes, we never share a meal with others.”

“How sad, for me I mean,” you say, “One of the best parts about being a baker is seeing when others eat what I’ve made, I love seeing their reactions. If you try something, I won’t know what you think about it.”

“I can just turn my back to you and lift my helmet a little,” he replies, and you can definitely hear the smile in his voice now. It changes the tone of his voice, as it comes through the helmet, makes it warmer, softer, and you smile back at him.

“What do you want to try then?” you ask, “If you’ve never had dessert then I have to give you something special to try.”

“I don’t know,” he looks around the cakes and cookies on display and shakes his head, “I can read your signs but I don’t know what cinnamon or vanilla tastes like, or this one.” He points to a stack of millionaire’s shortbread, “I have never heard of peanuts.”

“Well, in that case, just in case you're allergic to peanuts, let’s not start with them,” you grin, “the last thing I need is you passing out from an allergic shock in my shop. That armor looks a lot heavier than what I can lift.”

The Mandalorian looks down at the plates that cover almost every part of his body, “It’s made from beskar, it’s a metal from my home world.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, and you mean it. The metal is polished and rich looking, a light gray color that catches the light as he moves, “It’s a very beautiful armor.”

“Do you want to hold a piece?” he asks, looking over at you again, or at least you think he’s looking at you, it’s hard to tell with the helmet.

“Is that allowed?” you ask, “I don’t want you to break any rules in your religion.”

“There is no rule against this,” he says, reaching up and taking off one of the shoulder pauldrons. It has the image of a dangerous looking animal that you don’t recognise, and as he hands it over, you see him reverently brush his fingers over it. Carefully you take it from his gloved hands, the metal warm to the touch, and just as heavy as it looks.

“It’s warm!” you say surprised and he nods.

“It holds my body heat easily, good for cold climates.”

You don’t know why, maybe because you can’t see even a sliver of skin on the man, but the thought of holding something that’s been warmed by his body heat, makes you slightly aroused. He could look like anything underneath all that metal and cloth, but his voice, his rich, low voice through the helmet, and his sheer imposing presence, makes you almost subconsciously attracted to him.

He comes around the counter and stands close as you turn the pauldron over in your hands, tracing the outline of the animal, feeling the warmth of his body.

“What is this animal?” you ask, looking up at your own reflection in his visor, “I’ve never seen one like it before.”

“It’s a mudhorn, it’s the mark of my clan.” He traces his fingers along the animal too, brushing against yours as you marvel at the intricate work.

“Thank you,” you say, handing the pauldron back as the touch of his fingers against yours becomes too much to handle, “Thank you for letting me hold it.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice lower now that he’s standing next to you. You watch as he clicks the pauldron into place on his shoulder again.

How do you flirt with a man whose face you can’t even see? you wonder as he turns his visor back on you. It seems like he holds you in place for a few seconds before you slowly have to turn yourself away from him and the intensity of his sightless gaze.

“So you’ve never had dessert and you don’t know what any of this tastes like?” you say, giving your own cakes a critical look.

“No,” comes the voice from the man beside you, “Maybe you can choose for me?”

“Hmm…that’s a big ask. Your first dessert has to be something really special, but maybe not too overwhelming, and not too sweet either because if you’re not used to it, then sugar can be a bit too much. And it has to have the right combination of textures too so that you get the full experience and then maybe it should be-” you cut yourself off and look up at the man who’s shifted his weight, leaning against the counter and looking at you with his head cocked to the side. “Sorry, I’m rambling, I went into full baker mode.”

“No, go on, I enjoy hearing you analyze my first dessert experience,” he says, encouraging you to go on by putting his hand on your arm. The little touch makes you tremble slightly and you pray he doesn’t notice through the soft looking leather of his gloves.

“Really?” you ask, “Because I have an idea but I’d have to bake something for you, are you in a hurry?”

“No, I’m waiting for someone and they won’t be here until tomorrow,” he says, dropping his hand from your arm, “What would you make me?”

“Do you mind if I keep it a surprise? Only, I want you to have the best possible first dessert experience”

“I usually don’t like surprises but I’ll make an exception for dessert. And for you,” there’s a small chuckle from behind the helmet and it makes you smile.

“I’m honored,” you say, “come into my kitchen, I think I have what I need for what I was thinking of making.”

You sidestep him, making him turn sideways as you brush past him, and you don’t miss the way his hand comes up to the small of your back as he walks just behind you into the kitchen.

Your kitchen is big enough but the metal clad man takes up a lot of space as you direct him to stand by your workbench. He looks around it as you start going through your stores.

“I’ve never been inside a professional kitchen before,” he says, “I can see that you’re used to a lot of metal.”

You glance around at all the stainless steel counters and shelves that line the walls, stacked high with stainless steel pans, bowls and baking trays, and then the big shiny door that leads into your walk-in fridge before it hits you.

“Did you just make a joke about your armor?” you snort. But the man behind the helmet remains motionless and soundless as the giggle dies in your throat, afraid that you’ve somehow offended him. You look at him, your cheeks heating up, and then he chuckles loudly.

“Yes.”

“Oh fuck off, you’re terrible,” you exhale in relief, but smiling again, “I thought I’d insulted your religion or something.”

“No, jokes are allowed,” he says and you hear the mirth in his voice clearly this time, behind the visor he must be grinning widely.

“No more bad jokes, or you won’t get my dessert,” you give him a mock scolding look but he just tilts his head sideways.

“There’s another joke in that sentence,” he says, still a smile in his voice, “but I don’t want to miss out on your dessert.”

The innuendo is heavy and you have to bite back your grin, there’s no doubting his flirting tone, and instead focus on pulling lemons, sugar and butter from your stores.

“If you say so,” you huff and he chuckles, coming to stand next to you while you start prepping.

“So can you tell me what you’re doing at least?” he asks, picking up one of the lemons and turning over in his hand.

“I’m making you a pie, I already have the dough ready for the crust so I’m just going to roll it out and blind bake it before I make the filling,” you say, bringing out the rolling pin and the slab of pie dough you had in the fridge.

“I’ve never had pie,” he replies, “but I’ve seen them sold.”

“What do you eat?” you ask and you see him shrug, shifting a bit.

“Just…well, mostly freeze dried stuff that I can just add water to when I travel,” he says, “bone broth is nice too.” He shrugs again and you shake your head.

“You need to live a little, try some different food, life’s too short to live on freeze dried camping food and bone broth. Doesn’t your wife cook for you?” The last thing slips out without you thinking, your mouth racing ahead of your mind and you bite your tongue, apologizing again.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, or assume that you’re married, or that a wife should cook. Or that it would be a wife, just ignore me, I’m alone too much in the bakery,” you ramble, trying to catch up with yourself.

Beside you the Mandalorian shifts and stands with his hip leaning against the workbench so that he’s looking directly at you, he’s crossed his arms and cocked his head and it shouldn’t be that sexy, you can’t even see him, but it’s making your heart rate speed up as your cheeks go warm again.

“No, no wife,” he says, his voice somehow even lower than before, “no one to cook for me, and I wouldn’t expect my wife to cook for me either,” he shifts his weight, putting one hand down on the workbench, the other on his hip, “But it would be a wife.”

You refuse to look at him, it won’t give you anything, just that stupid shiny helmet. But you can hear the smirk in his voice, so you just nod your head.

“Good to know,” you press out, very much focused on rolling the dough to a perfect circle which isn’t strictly necessary.

“And you?” his asks, his low baritone vibrating the air around you as he seems to step even closer. His chest plate isn’t touching you but if you turn your head, your breath will fog on it. “Anyone to cook for you at home?”

“Uhm…no,” you stutter, “just me.”

If this was a normal man you’d expect to turn your head now and look at him and he’d ask if he could kiss you, or he’d lean in closer and just do it. But the helmet is in the way, how the hell is he so flirty with that damn helmet? He does know how to kiss, doesn’t he?

“I’m ju-just going to put this in the oven,” you say, trimming the edges of the pie crust, leaving the scraps of dough on the bench.

“Ok,” he says, still with a smile in his voice, watching as you line the pie with a sheet and then baking beads, before sliding it into the oven.

“What’s next, the filling?” he asks and you nod.

“Yeah, I’m going to zest and squeeze these lemons,” you pick up the one he’s left on the bench and show him how you get the zest off into a bowl.

“Have you had lemons before?” you ask and he nods.

“Yes, I think so, or something similar. But it was very sour,” he bends forward and looks closely at the zest you’ve mixed with some sugar. “It smells good though, do you often use them in pies?”

“Yeah, and they’re amazing in anything baked, as long as you have enough sugar.”

“I trust your skills as a baker,” he says and you smile at him.

“Thanks, I think you’ll really like this.”

He stays still a beat as you turn back to the lemons, “I already do,” he says, a whisper, just loud enough to escape the helmet. For a second you’re not sure he meant for you to hear it, and you let your hands continue squeezing the lemons before giving him a quick glance. It tells you nothing, the man might as well be a statue.

You start separating the eggs, letting the egg whites slip through your fingers, holding onto the yolks, until all five are neatly laying on the bottom of your mixing bowl. The silence is stretching between you and the man, still standing still, leaning slightly on the edge of the workbench. You can feel his eyes on you behind the helmet, watching as you stir together the filling, lemon juice, zest, sugar, corn starch, it all comes together.

“Can I ask you something?” You look up at him, slowly stirring the cubes of butter into the lemon mixture. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to though, it’s kinda personal.”

“Ok,” he says, cocking his head to the left.

“How…h-have…h-ow do you kiss if you can’t take the helmet off?”

He doesn’t move, the blank front of the visor steadily trained on you.

“Nevermind, it was a stupid question, don’t answer that,” you mumble, dropping your gaze back to the filling.

“No, it’s not a stupid question,” he says, and you feel the soft leather of his gloved hand under your chin, tilting it up, back to him. “There are…loopholes…in the creed. I’ve kissed someone, when they couldn’t see my face. But it requires a lot of trust.”

You’re staring at your own reflection in the visor, trying to discern where his eyes are. You wonder if he’s looking at your eyes or your lips, and you wonder what his lips look like.

What they would feel like.

“Does that answer your question?” he asks, that rich, warm baritone, distorted by whatever lets him speak through the helmet, makes your heart flutter, your breath catches in your throat.

“Y-yes…thank you,” you stutter, “yes.”

You bet he’s smiling at you again, as he lets go of your chin and you look back down at the filling.

“I’m going to fill the pie now, and then make the meringue that goes on top.”

“Ok,” he says, “I don’t know what that is but I bet it will be irresistible.”

It makes you smile, at the filling, as it pours, golden and thick, into the pie crust. It settles into a smooth layer, ready for the last step and you place the pie to the side and reach for the egg whites.

“Can I ask you a favor?” you ask and he nods.

“Of course, what is it?”

“The ancient looking mixer, up there, can you reach it?”

He steps behind you, over to the shelf and effortlessly lifts the heavy old Husqvarna machine, it looks almost weightless in his hands. Those hands, inside the soft gloves, are big, almost dwarfing the mixer and the thought crosses your mind, to have those hands on you, wrapped around your waist, or grabbing your thighs, lifting you up as effortlessly as the machine, placing you on the bench, pushing your legs apart and-

He carefully puts it next to you, and moves to stand on your other side. But his hand gently brushes over your back, just a small touch, but it makes you wish it lasted longer, and wasn’t so gentle.

The mixer is loud as you start it, whipping the egg whites into stiff peaks in just a few minutes.

“The trick,” you say, detaching the bowl, “is to whip them until you can hold the bowl upside down over your head and the meringue stays put.” You hold out the bowl to him with a grin, “Do you trust me?”

He chuckles behind the helmet and takes the bowl from your hand, “I guess I do, but you’re polishing the beskar if this falls on me.”

He carefully tips the bowl, holding it over himself, and the meringue stays put, not a drop falls on him and you give him a wide grin.

“I passed the test.”

“You did. Pity, my armor could do with a clean,” he says, his voice serious, but you can hear the smirk in it this time.

“Cheeky,” you laugh, “clean your own armor, I’m making you pie.”

You grab the bowl from him and start scoping out the thick meringue on top of the filling, creating swirls and peaks with your spoon. “It just needs to set now,” you say, taking the pie, “Could you open the fridge door, please?”

He takes a few long strides and works the handle, holding it open for you as you go inside and place the pie on a back shelf.

“I have never seen so many cakes before,” he says, coming in behind you, looking at the shelves of cake bottoms that are defrosting in preparation for your weekend orders.

The door behind you slips closed and the fridge is thrown into darkness.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that the door needs to be wedged open, the light broke in here and I haven’t gotten round to replacing it,” you say, fumbling towards the door with your hand on the shelves, “I’ll get it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got night vision in my helmet,” he replies matter of factly, and you hear him walk to the door.

“You have night vision in your helmet?” You’re not sure he’s joking or not but judging by how quickly he moves across the small space, he must be seeing something.

“How does the handle work?” he asks as you hear the handle click and catch on something.

“You just pull it against you and it should open,” you say, carefully walking towards the sound of his voice.

“It’s not opening, it sounds as if the handle isn’t latching on correctly”.

“What? No, the door has to open!” You say, panic creeping into your voice, “I can’t…try it again, it has to work!”

You bump into him and his arm comes out around your waist, “Careful, don’t hurt yourself,” he says, his voice suddenly very close to you, steady and soothing, and it calms you down a little.

“Sorry, I’m- I’m not good with small places I can't get out of,” you mumble, holding onto his arm.

“The handle isn’t working, but I promise you, I can very easily get us out of here, don’t be scared.” He must’ve let go of the handle because his other hand comes up to rest on your cheek, the gloved thumb caressing your face with smooth motions. “Don’t be scared, mesh’la,” he says, his voice soft. If you move you think you’ll bump your head against the metal of his helmet, so you close your eyes and focus on his hands. One on your back, the other on your cheek, you take a long steadying breath.

“H-how can you get us out?”

“I have tools for it, in my belt, don’t be scared, I’ll get us out in no time…but…” he trails off, a small hint of uncertainty suddenly in his tone.

“I trust you,” he says, “and I want to kiss you.”

“You’ll take your helmet off?” you ask and in response you hear a low chuckle from inside it.

“Yes, it would be very difficult otherwise.”

“You don’t know that, maybe I’m used to making out with metal,” you say, biting your lip, and you’re rewarded with laughter in the darkness.

“Using my jokes against me, clever,” he smiles as his hands leave you. There’s a click, the soft hiss of air escaping, and you guess his helmet has come off. You feel him bend down, placing it on the ground next to him and standing up again.

“Ca-can you take your gloves off too?” you ask. “Yes,” comes his voice in the lightless room and it makes you inhale. Unfiltered it’s much richer, warmer, but somehow rougher, slipping around you, making you break out in goosebumps as you shiver, no voice has ever made you shiver before and now you want him to keep talking to you, to feel his voice in all your senses. It makes you lift your hands to find him in the darkness but he finds you first.

The soft sound of leather hitting the floor is the next thing you hear before his warm fingertips brush across your shoulder, finding your neck and trailing up over your chin.

“I’m as blind as you now,” he whispers, leaning closer, “tell me where your lips are.”

“Here,” you whisper in reply, taking his hand and guiding it to your mouth. He traces his thumb over your bottom lip, then the top, and you feel his hot breath skim over your skin.

His lips are soft, gentle, as he presses them against yours, a slight tickle of facial hair before he pulls away a fraction.

“Touch me,” he mumbles, “please,” a pleading tone to his voice.

“Where?” you ask, lifting your hands from your sides and searching for him, finding cold metal and a rough flight suit.

“Everywhere, my face, my hair, please touch me.”

He leans his face into your hand as you find his cheek, your other hand slipping around to the nape of his neck, the longer hair winding around your fingers. It’s messy and curly and so silky to the touch that you hum under your breath.

“You're so soft,” you say and it feels like he shakes his head.

“No, you are, can I kiss you again?” he whispers but you don’t reply, just find his lips with yours and he groans into your open mouth, your tongue coming out to taste his lips as he parts them, and you feel his tongue lick against yours.

His kisses are slow, and you match his pace, moving in the same lazy way as him, his tongue exploring and tasting every part of yours. Soft hands have come up to hold you close to him, his fingers in your hair, not letting you move from where he needs you. And it feels like a need, his soft presses turning needy, a soft moan escaping you as he pulls you closer, your whole body pressed up against his hard metal exterior. The contrast makes you feel disembodied, your legs, stomach, chest resting against cool armor, your face, your hands touching, and being touched by warm skin, soft hair, his demanding tongue growing in confidence by the second as he groans under your touch.

He suddenly takes hold of your waist, moving you without effort, pressing you against the door with his whole, tall frame.

“Your kisses are…” he pants, “please, I don’t want to stop, I…I…can’t.”

He’s mumbling between insistent kisses, his tongue dipping into your mouth, tasting, groaning as he needs more with every second that passes. And you would give it to him, you’re moaning into his mouth, pressing into him as eagerly as he’s pushing you up against the door. If he wants to fuck you on the floor of this fridge, you’d let him. His soft lips, rough hands, his heady groans, and when he finally gives in and grinds his hard cock into your hip, it makes you lose all sense of where you are, who you’re with.

“Mesh’la,” he mutters, another kiss on your lips, “Tell me to stop, mesh’la, I can’t stop on my own.” His tongue slips between your lips again and you thread your fingers through his hair and hold him close, keeping him from pulling back again.

“Don’t stop, keep kissing me,” you gasp, his thigh is between your legs, rubbing firm at your aching core.

He growls, his hand coming down to grab hold of your thigh, lifting it up onto his hip, and the door flies open. With a shriek you feel yourself falling backwards, crashing towards the hard kitchen floor. But his arms catches you, you hear the loud clunk as his metal covered legs and arm hits the surface beneath you, the other arm secure around your waist. “Don’t open your eyes,” he snaps, panic in his voice, and you squeeze your eyes shut, they almost flew open as he caught you. “I won’t, they’re closed, they’re closed,” you pant, the air knocked out of you.

“I’m going to put you down and then get my helmet, don’t move until I say so,” he says, still close, gently lowering you down to the floor.

“Ok,” you nod, staying still. But you don’t hear him above you, and his arm is still at your side. When he does move his chest comes flat against your own, his nose brushing over your cheek, bumping into yours, and then his lips are on yours again. Soft, warm, pliant, his beard tickling you, open mouth and gentle tongue, tasting and exploring with a low hum in his chest. When he finally pulls away and pushes himself up, you feel the loss of his lips like an imprint on your own, your fingers come up and trace across them, touching where he just was.

From the fridge you hear the click of his helmet being put in place and then his footsteps come back.

“You can open your eyes again,” he says, “thank you for keeping them closed.”

You blink your eyes open and look up at him, his face again hidden behind the visor, his expression unreadable. But his voice is soft and he holds out his hand to you, his gloves not on yet. You take it and he helps you to your feet, one arm around your waist as you find your balance again. Looking down at the hand holding yours, you trace your fingers along the thin white scars that crisscross the back of his tan skin. His hand is rugged, the pads of his fingertips rough and well used. It’s hard to imagine that these hands could touch you so softly in the dark.

“I…I hope I didn’t ask too much,” he hesitates as you keep touching his hand, holding it between your own, “I never kissed anyone like that before.”

“I liked it,” you mumble, looking up at his visor, his hand still between yours. “I’ve never kissed anyone like that before either. And I don’t even know what your name is.”

“Din,” he says, his voice low, like he’s telling you something guarded, “My name is Din, but I don’t tell many people that.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” you say and he nods, placing his hand on your cheek again. “Thank you, mesh’la.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Din,” you say, trying to find his eyes behind the black visor.

“I don’t think there’s any of my kind on your world,” he says with a small chuckle and you frown. “What do you mean, ‘your world’?”

He shakes his head, “Don’t think about it, it doesn’t matter, I just want to try your dessert now, like you promised,” his hand slips down to yours and he takes it, tugging you back towards the fridge, “Is it done yet?”

“Uuhm…yeah, I just need to torch the top a bit,” you say, confused, as he opens the fridge door again.

“I’ll hold it open this time,” Din tilts his head down towards you as you pass him, his hand trailing over your hand as you let go of him. The pie jiggles slightly when you tap it, so you pick it up and carefully bring it to the workbench again. Din closes the fridge door behind you and follows you back.

“I’ve never smelt anything like it,” he hums as you reach into your tools and pull out the small blow torch.

“Just wait until you taste it,” you smile, turning on the gas and igniting the torch. Din’s hand flies up to grab at your arm as the flame comes out but stops as he realizes what you’re doing.

“I have one of those too,” he chuckles, “But mine’s a bit bigger.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve used yours,” you grin and he shakes his head.

“It would’ve burnt down your kitchen, it's not really meant for this delicate work,” you can hear the smirk as he leans forward and looks on as you carefully caramelize the top of the meringue, painting the white swirls in toasty brown.

“There, it’s done,” you say as you turn off the blow torch and put it aside, “you’re very first dessert, a lemon meringue pie.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” he replies as you take down two plates, spoons and your sharpest knife.

“How do you want to eat it?” you ask, cutting a generous slice for him, bigger than you would serve to the customers. He looks at the pie for a few seconds and then cocks his head and looks at you. “I trust you,” he says, the smile in his voice evident under the unreadable helmet, “we can sit back to back and you can at least hear my reaction.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with,” you hold out the plate to him and he lifts it up to eye level, looking closely at the bright yellow filling and white meringue on top.

“I’m sure, I trust you. And I want you to be happy when you hear my reaction.”

“I hope you like it then,” you laugh, “Or this is going to be very awkward.”

“If it tastes only half as good as it smells, this will be the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he takes your hand and pulls you down onto the floor, you begin to protest that you have chairs but he just shrugs and sits down, crossing his legs with his back against you. You sink down behind him, crossing your legs too. “Lean against me, mesh’la,” he says, “and don’t turn around.”

“I won’t, I promise,” you rush out as you hear a soft woosh of air from the helmet.

“I know,” he replies, his voice unfiltered and rich again, a low baritone that seems to send a shiver down your spine. The spoon clinks on his plate and he seems to hesitate.

“I just put my spoon in it?” he asks and it makes you smile.

“Yes, just get some of everything, and tell me what you think.”

You hear the rustle of his flight suit as he seems to move around a little, it’s almost as if he’s trying to figure out how to tackle the slice on his plate. Eventually you hear the spoon scrap over the plate again as he cuts off a bite.

You listen intently, wishing you could see his expression, as he silently tastes the pie.

“Maker…” he breathes out after a few seconds, the spoon clinking again against the plate and you hear him take another bite.

“Maker….” his mouth full and the word is muffled, “this is…” the spoon scrapes over the plate and you hear him take one more mouthful. His head leans against yours as he tips it back, sighing deeply.

“Maker…I’ve never tasted anything like this before,” he groans, “It’s fresh and rich and sweet, how have I never tasted something like this before?”

“Because you’re a fool, obviously,” you laugh, taking a bite for yourself. You know this pie is good but Din’s reaction makes you feel giddy. Behind you, you hear him take another spoonful, humming as he savors the flavors.

“I am a fool,” he says after swallowing down another bite, “this is like nothing else. I want to eat only this for the rest of my life.”

“That might not be the healthiest choice,” you chuckle, “and wait until you try chocolate, that’s on a whole other level again.”

“Thank you,” he says from behind you, his hand reaching back and finding your arm, “Thank you for making this, I’m grateful.”

“No trouble, I like seeing how much you enjoy it, especially since you’ve never had dessert before, you strange man.”

At that you hear him laugh, “I’m not that strange, just maybe on your world, mesh’la.”

“What does that word mean?” you ask, “Mesh’la?”

“I’ll tell you, if you give me more pie,” his voice is so cheeky it makes you laugh out loud.

“I’ve got you addicted it seems,” you reply and he chuckles behind you, “I’ll keep my eyes closed and you can take as much as you want, take the whole pie.”

“I can’t do that,” he says as you feel him shift behind you, getting to his feet.

“Of course you can, you should take it, I can make another.”

“I would argue with you, but the pie is too good,” he sinks down behind you again and this time you hear his spoon scrape over the metal of the pie form.

“Din?” you ask and he stiffens.

“Yes?”

“Are you eating straight from the form?”

“Is…Is that wrong?”

“No,” you laugh, “just a very good review of my pie.”

He chuckles again, relaxing against your back as he takes another mouthful. Together you sit in silence, eating the pie, cross legged on the floor of your kitchen. Yours is soon gone and you happily listen to your strange guest hum and moan as he all but seems to demolish the rest of the pie. Maybe you should tell him to pace himself, but he seems to be enjoying himself immensely.

After a few more moments the pie form is placed on the floor and Din groans, “I’m so full, but I want to eat more.”

“I should’ve told you to go slow,” you smile, “but just take whatever you didn’t finish with you.”

“Hmm…I…I ate the whole thing,” he says sheepishly and you giggle.

“You might feel a bit sick in a while, but don’t blame me. But I really love how much you loved it.”

“I’ll come back for more pie whenever I can,” he says, finding your arm with his hand again, “Please keep your eyes closed.”

“I’ll make sure to have it on the menu all the time then,” you smile, your eyes squeezed shut.

Behind you, you feel him move and turn, his warm hand coming up to cup your face, a thumb sliding over your cheek. His lips are soft and gentle as he brushes them against yours, his tongue slipping out, your mouth opening. He tastes of sharp lemon, sugar and butter, and underneath, his own self. He lets himself linger for a few moments, his nose stroking over your cheek, before he pulls back, your eyes still firmly closed. The click of his helmet lets you know that he’s once more covered up and you open your eyes, slightly sad that he can’t let you see his face, you’d love to see what those soft lips look like.

“I should go,” he says, a tinge of regret in his voice, “I have other things I need to see to before I leave.” He takes your hands and helps you stand, the remains of the pie forgotten on the floor as you follow him out to the front of the bakery.

“This….was wizard…” he mumbles in a low voice, yet again standing by the door, “I’ve never…experienced something like this.”

“Me either, Din,” you mumble, suddenly very sad that he’s leaving, “Promise that you’ll come back some day.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise,” he says, his hand, gloved now, comes up to caress your cheek one last time.

He turns and puts his hand on the handle and something hits you, “Wait, hang on, just wait there.”

You rush back behind the counter and grab one of your bread bags and quickly put four croissants into it.

“Here,” you say, holding it out to him as you get back to the door, “For the road, or whatever you’re doing.”

He takes it, cocking his head to look down at the bag before he looks up at you again, “You’re going to make my armor fit very tight.” “Hey, I didn’t tell you to eat the entire pie in one sitting,” you grin and from behind the helmet comes a low chuckle.

“I still blame you for baking something far too irresistible.”

“Take care, Din, I hope I see you again sometime.”

“Me too, mesh’la,” he says, giving you a nod and opening the front door.

Part Three

If you want to try Din's Lemon Meringue Pie, here's the recipe I used!

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #the mandalorian

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the-offside-rule · 10 months

Text

Carlos Sainz Jr (Scuderia Ferrari) - First Snow

Day 2 of Christmas

Carlos sat in his and Y/n’s shared bedroom, dressing the newest member of their family in various layers of fluffy clothes. Y/n always found Carlos’ careful side funny whenever he was around the baby. There were corner protectors on each and every corner of the house and now that winter had hit, he had spent a lot of his money on warm clothes. “Carlos, I think she will overheat if you put any more layers on her.” Y/n chuckled, looking in the doorway. “You think?” Carlos lifted the 10 month old, her face looking chubbier because of all the layers her father had on her. Her joyous grin still as cute as ever. “I think we could do with a layer or two less, Carlitos.” Y/n said. “No, no, I am not risking Julietta getting sick.” He turned her around to face him and began peppering her face in kisses. “Isn’t that right, bebe? I would never let anything-”

“You do know that too many layers can make her overheat? Then we’ll be in a lot of trouble.” Carlos sat her back down onto his lap. “So less layers?” He asked. “Just a few.” Carlos nodded and removed some cardigans and shirts. “Can I put on the bear jumper?” He was of course talking about the fluffy jacket his mother had bought for Julia to wear to the paddock, where she became well known for it. “Of course. Then we can bring her outside.” Y/n reassured him. “Her first snow.” Carlos hummed. "You're more excited than she is."

"No, she's excited. Can you not tell?" He was saying in his baby voice. "Come on, Sainz. I think we should get a start here." He nodded along, taking off two layers. "Can you hold her while I put a jacket on?" He asked. "I'll bring her outside. You take your time." Y/n assured him. Carlos was speedy with his jacket, not particularly wanting to spend any time away from his daughter that he didn't have to. After all, it's not everyday he gets to see her during the season, so the pre-season became his new favourite time of year. As he walked down the stairs, wrapping his scarf around his neck. It wasnt any scarf, it was a scarf Y/n had bought for him when she moved in with him in London, back when he joined Renault. They had been through so much, but their love was in just as good condition as that scarf.

Carlos opened the door and saw Y/n leaning down and looking at the ground. Carlos looked confused. Where was his daughter? "Look, baby! Your papa is coming." Y/n cooed. Carlos heard the cutest giggles but no sign of his daughter. "Look at her doing snow angels, Carlos." His heart raced. He began running over towards her and as he grew closer, he spotted the baby wiggling around in the snow with the biggest smile on her face. "What are you doing?!" Carlos nearly screeched, picking her up and into his arms. He held her closely in his chest and looked at Y/n angrily. "She's playing, Carlos. It's safe for her to play in snow. We even asked the doctor last weekend like you wanted." Y/n replied, trying to remain calm. "No, no! I want to keep her safe!" Carlos said defensively. "Carlos, she is nearly 10 months old, now. She can play in the snow." He huffed. "I'm bringing her back inside." Carlos muttered. "This was such a bad idea. Why would I-"

"Okay, okay, listen." Y/n held onto both of Carlos' arms. "Breathe." She said. "Breathe? I am breathing, Y/n!" Carlos snapped back. "Then calm down, maybe?" Carlos scoffed. "I don't want her getting sick." He said. "Shes going to eventually. You can't stop that from happening." Y/n chuckled. "No, but I'm can try avoiding it." Carlos mumbled, kissing his daughter on the head. "Carlos. Think of how excited we were for this. Look at how happy she looks." Carlos sighed. "I know. I'm just worried. I haven't got too much time to spend with her this year." He explained. "I don't want some of my only memories of her being that she's sick." Y/n caressed his cheek. "I know, but we just need to let her get on with it I'm afraid."

Y/n and Carlos smiled as Julia threw snow into the air and laughed in delight. Occasionally throwing some at the dogs and giggling when they sneezed back and tried biting the snow. "Do you ever look at how far we have come?" Carlos asked suddenly. "As parents?" Y/n asked. "I mean as a couple. Take this how you will, but I didn't expect us to last this long. Especially when you started college." Y/n chuckled. "We didn't see eachother that much during those years, did we?" Carlos shook his head. "And now look at us. We have a dog, a house, and we have Julia too." He said. "You forgot we're married now." He grinned. "I know. Its crazy."

Julia looked back at her parents. They noticed and waved before something incredible happened. She decided then and there to hold onto the dogs laying beside her and trying to push herself up but falling back down. Carlos jumped up to go get her, but Y/n pulled him back. "Just wait." She said. As Carlos and Y/n watched their daughters multiple attempts, hoisting herself up then falling. "If she doesn't make this one I'm getting her." Carlos whispered. "Okay. That's fine." Y/n replied. They watched as she once again leaned on the dogs, pushed herself up and this time, she stood. Carlos smiled and clapped for his daughter. "Muy bien! Very good, Julietta!" He cheered. Before they knew it, Elena stepped one foot in front of the other and leaned forward to walk.

"She stepped! Y/n she stepped!" Carlos said in disbelief. Y/n chuckled. Julia's first laugh had been while Carlos was away doing work with Ferrari. The first time she crawled was while Carlos was away at the Dutch Grand Prix. She first stood up in the Ferrari garage in Austin while Carlos had been out racing. Any of her huge milestones had been missed by Carlos, so her father was obviously ecstatic to be seeing his little Julia talking her first step. "I know. Such a clever girl." Y/n said. Carlos opened his arms wide, encouraging his daughter to walk. She instead giggled again and dropped on all fours to crawl over to her dad. "Nearly there. You're so smart." Carlos smiled, pecking her face a few times. "Should we go inside now? We don't want her getting sick now, do we?" Carlos looked back at his wife.

"No, we definitely do not." He replied. "Okay, Papa Sainz. Let's get some hot chocolate going." She said. "Oh my god, I'm actually Papa Sainz now."

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #christmas fic #christmas fanfic #christmas

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melanieph321 · 1 year

Note

PLEASE!!!!!!!!! Ruben being a girl dad! She has him completely wrapped around her finger

I would die!!!! X

Ok 😊

Ruben Dias x Reader - Bad Braces

Enjoy!

Ruben was used to stepping through his front door and be ambushed by a cloud of pink. Your daughter was gifted a ballet tutu for christmas which resluted in her wearing it every where she went. There was a discussion with you about the problem with this, Ruben however did not see it. He loved coming home to a cloud full of pink and the day that this didn't happen was close to a nightmare for him.

"Where is Lina?" He asked, when you peered your head out of the kitchen into the hallway where he stood.

"What?" His eyebrows furrowed, seeing the concerned expression on your face. You stepped up to him, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Where is Lina?" He asked again.

You sighed. "She's in her room, saying that she won't come out ever."

Ruben frowned. "Her room? Did somthing happen at school?"

"Apparently somone made a comment about her new braces."

"What!"

"Along with her dress. So please Ruben remember what we talked about."

He was already charging towards your daughter's room, suprised to find that the door was locked.

"Lina? Lina meu amor, por favor, abra a porta."

He yanked the handle a couple of times, to no use however.

"Whatever is going on we can fix it, please let me fix it." If he could he would never let your daughter go back to school again. Ruben felt so hopless surrendering your only child to the cruel cruel world. He wanted to be there by her side everyday, protecting her.

"Pãi?"

He heard a low cry behind the door, your daughter's cry.

"Yes Lina I'm here, please open the door."

Small footsteps dragged across the floor and soon a key twisted in the lock.

"Pãi." Your daughter wiped her nose with the arm of her sleeve, her eyes bloodshot with tears.

"What happened, tell me." An instinctive thought appeared in Ruben's head. He would kill whoever made her feel this way. He entered her room only to find her ballet tutu tossed in a corner. They sat down on the bed.

"Did somone say something about your new braces?" He asked.

She nodded "And my dress."

Ruben balled up a fist, his knuckles white. His voice was calm however. "What did this person say?"

Lina bowed her head in shame. "He said that with my new braces on I looked like I stole children's teeth and ate them, like the opposite of the tooth fairy."

"He who?" Ruben said, balling up his fist again.

"This boy in my class, Alejandro said it."

"Alejandro." Ruben mumbled. "Well do you know where this Alejandro lives?"

Lina's eyes lit up, her head nodding excitingly. But then Y/N entered the room having overhead the whole conversation between them.

"The best thing would be to call his parents, don't think?" You said, giving Ruben a stern look.

"He shook his head. "Nah, I want to pay him a visit."

"Ruben he's eight, your not knocking on a eight year old's door, threatening to beat him up."

Ruben sighed, so did your daughter, they were each others soulmates.

"But mommy he was mean to me."

"I know that honey, but that is not how we deal with mean people in life. Ain't that right Ruben?"

He grunted.

You rolled your eyes.

"The next time Alejandro is mean to you do you know what you should do?"

"Stomp him in the nuts." Ruben muttured.

You shoved his shoulder.

"No, what you should do is give him a big smile and walk away, because violence is never the way."

"That's terrible advice. What you should do is sort of trip his legs and when you have him on the ground you should..."

"Ruben."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." He said, making your daughter laugh. At least he made her laugh again.

"No, your mother is right. We'll talk to your teachers at school, hopefully they'll make sure that this doesn't happen again."

"Promise?"

You watched your daughter jump off the bed and retrieve her tutu from the corner in her room. She put it on to Rubens satisfaction.

"I promise." He smiled and picked her up in his arms. "Or else I'll pay him a visit."

"Ruben." You sighed.

"Kidding, just kidding."

#fanfiction #man city #manchester city #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias #football imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #footballer imagine

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crusty-chronicles · 1 year

Note

Hey I loved your kite smut posts, it’s doing things to me mentally, I’ve been reading it everyday for a week now I’m really down bad for this 2d man.

Btw can you please make part 3 (pretty please)

An: Y'all don't realize how down bad I am for this man already. I've got a threesome with him and Ging on the way, another future Chimera Ant Kite (like an Au, just not his canonical little girl form) and now this one. 😭😭😭 I've become a whore.

Okay here we go

Love Me Like I'm Your Last (Part 3)

SCREAMING BC HE'S SO FUCKING PRETTY

SMUT So Minors DNI

Warnings: Fem bodied reader, Sexting, hair pulling, creampie, scratching, biting, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy(might be breeding kink), long distance relationship, fluff at the end because I'm soft for this man.

Synopsis: You miss your partner and after finally being able to meet with each other for the first time in months, you two decide to indugle in yourselves for a little while. Part 1, Part 2

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

You knew this relationship would be difficult. Especially now that the both of you had split up to travel with your respective parties. Yes you had each other's numbers, but it wasn't face to face.

You couldn't touch him, couldn't bask in his presence. And time had been cut too short last time. You had barely gotten properly dressed by the time the door swung open and in came everyone.

It was only a few days after that when you were once again dragged off to start a new adventure with your boys.

Kite called you as often as he could, which wasn't much considering the continent he was surveying had terrible service.

You'd tried your best to answer each and every one of them, but it was so damn hard to do much when you were being chased down by whatever creature Gon and Killua decided to piss off.

Not to mention fending off that creepy clown.

You were exhausted, and missing his call only made you feel even worse. You hoped Kite didn't think you were ignoring him.

You didn't exactly have the best track record with relationships. Or any serious ones.

But this was one you truly wanted. Kite was sweet. He had a presence that was both calming and intimidating, depending on the person. You found a comfort in his strength along with his unwavering resolve.

Then there was that last factor that had sealed the deal.

The boys both adored him. They respected him. They trusted him.

And in your eyes it was perfect. A partner who didn't mind that you had two children practically hanging off of you. Somebody who made the effort to teach them something.

This was a relationship you were willing to fight for.

But damnit four months was too long.

You were getting restless by the second. Hearing his voice just wasn't enough to satiate the need to have him with you. It wasn't enough to dispel the desire that only grew stronger in his absence. Normally you'd be able to take care of yourself, but your fingers just couldn't compare to his cock. Not since that first time together.

So being the little shit that you were, you figured you'd just give him an incentive to finish up his work sooner.

Making sure your door was locked, you snapped a picture.

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

There was a small buzz in Kite's pocket, alerting him to a new message. It was a miracle this building had some semblance of service. He figured it wouldn't hurt to check since it might be important. He was caught off guard to see it was from you.

Meaning that yes, it was very important.

He clicked open the notification and froze.

Now this was different. Did you know you were starting a very dangerous game? Because why, why had you sent this right when he was in a meeting with his team?!?!

He couldn't stop the red that slowly consumed his face the longer he stared. It had been so long. So very long since he last touched you. And now seeing this, your nipples peaking out from the flimsy shirt you were wearing...

He really had to finish this project up as soon as he could.

"You holding up okay there, Kite?" Spin's voice had snapped him out of his thoughts.

He figured he must've looked like a mess from the concerned stares of his team.

"Fine. We'll finish up here by the end of the week, then send everyone home."

He tried his best to sound professional, but his mind kept circling back to that damn picture. Even in spirit you were such a tease.

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

You were surprised to say the least. Delighted, but surprised. A message from Kite. There finally must've been some good service, and you briefly wondered if he'd seen your little gift. If he had that sweet flustered expression when he realized what it was.

You clicked open the message and immediately panicked.

You were in public. You were currently having lunch with the boys. And the message you just got was a picture.

A picture of your boyfriend holding his very red and leaky member.

You supposed you deserved it though, you did do it first. And it's not like you were complaining about the image itself, just the setting you were currently viewing it in.

You could make out the small vein that ran along his shaft along with the slight curve upwards. The dribble of pre that had slipped onto his oh so deliciously long fingers. You could feel warmth spread across your face and a desire spark in your gut.

You quickly shut your phone off to avoid the embarrassment that would surely follow if someone saw it.

God you really needed a break to track his ass down.

-----------

Kite was grateful to be back in the comfort of his hotel room again. Just a few more days until he would see you. A few more days until he could touch you.

The thought that he might've went a little too far with the picture he sent crossed his mind. But he knew you. He knew you were direct and preferred it when others were the same.

That didn't mean he wasn't a smidge embarrassed for sending it anyway. He wasn't used to being this forward.

To his surprise there was another buzz coming from his phone. It was from you.

And it was a voice message.

He had a feeling he knew what it was. You were gonna be the death of him. With a slight eagerness, he clicked it.

"Do you, mmm, know how hard it's been for me to cum." He heard you let out a soft whine along with the familiar sound of slick. He had never been so relieved to be alone.

"You've ruined me, you know. I can't satisfy myself without you. And it's not like I have the means to keep any toys around."

Those words had made him harden instantly. To know that you needed him for your pleasure. That your body craved him, and only him.

No toys was just a nice bonus to add onto how tight you'd be when he finally got his hands on you again.

The message ended with a soft moan and the sound of what he could only assume was your fingers moving a steady pace inside you.

He was straining uncomfortably in his pants. Then an idea struck him. He already one-upped you once, what was the harm in going a little further.

You deserved a taste of your own medicine, especially with how painfully hard you just made him.

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

You weren't expecting another notification so soon. It was just a few minutes after you tried (and failed) to get rid of your growing sexual frustration.

You had never been so grateful to have the hindsight to book two separate rooms. If things went as planned, Leorio would take the boys off your back for a few days. Plenty of time for you to find your partner and satisfy both your needs.

But for now.....

Oh wow

It was a video this time. How cute, it was like he was competing with you. Maybe next time you'd call him to up the ante once more.

It started and you were once again met with the sight of your boyfriend's cock, his hand wrapped firmly around the base. You could feel the pressure in your core grow.

"Look what you've done, love. You've got me so wound up, I had to end the expedition early just to see you." You watched his hand give firm strokes, stopping every once in a while to thumb the slit of his head. They became faster as he voiced out his frustrations.

"You've been naughty, sending me your tits while I'm working." He let out a groan that made you impossibly wet.

"So desperate for me to be inside you." Then a murmur of 'Just a few more days,' before the screen started shaking in his grip. You didn't think you could take it if he came. The feeling of wanting him inside, all of him, would be too great.

But damnit if you didn't want to see him make a mess all over himself. Your pretty boy come undone from just the thought of you.

"You know, you've ruined me too. I don't think I'll ever truly be satisfied unless I'm so snug inside you, I can't pull out." His breathing got heavier and just before that warm spurt of cum could shoot out, the video ended.

Three days, you'd wait three days before you left to find him.

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

You had called him this time, just a few days later. And if he knew you, it was probably a good thing he just checked into another hotel. His last stop before coming back to you.

But things had gone a little differently than expected when he answered. Not in a bad way, god not in a bad way.

He hadn't gotten a word in before you started speaking.

"Open up, loser. I'm here to ride you."

He almost choked from the suddenness. He was not expecting this sudden turn of events. It had slipped his mind that you could find him yourself. And god was he grateful you did. Anymore of your teasing would drive him mad.

"You're at the door?" There was a light tapping that followed.

"Yeah that's me. Unless you've got someone else you're waiting on? But I gotta say, I'm not too fond about sharing."

A jolt of arousal ran through him.

"You're snippier than usual. Are you really that needy, love?" He had unlocked his door and opened it.

He was met with the sight of you and a very playful glint in your eye. The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds. Taking in the appearances you both desperately missed.

"Hi, baby."

Kite's face went a light shade of red at your greeting. For a brief second, the playfulness of your expression melted away into something softer.

"Hi." A few more seconds of peace, and then you had slammed into his chest for a very much needed embrace.

His arms wrapped tightly around your waist and kept you there to plant a kiss on your forehead. You looked up and pulled him back down for a proper one.

It was soft, despite the vulgar circumstances that had brought the two of you together. You parted reluctantly, with Kite chasing after your lips.

"We've got a week all to ourselves," you started.

A week was plenty of time for just yourselves. There would be more intruded on time, but a week was more than enough to feel you scraping your nails down Kite's back as he fucked into you.

You placed a hand on his chest as you took a step into his hotel room.

"Let's have some fun today and spend the rest of the week catching up. Maybe go on a decent date, hmm? What do you say my pretty boy?"

The lust in the air had returned.

"Sounds perfect."

The door shut closed behind you and like a rubber band, the two of you snapped.

Your kisses hungry as Kite pushed you against the wall. Mouth opening quickly to let his tongue dance with yours in a perfect symphony. You let out a whine at the feeling of his hand guiding your leg up around his waist.

His cock pressed deliciously into your moistening core. The friction from the light roll of his hips made your head dizzy.

You'd barley started and already it was becoming too much.

The kiss ended with a string of saliva connecting you two. It broke as you quickly lifted off your shirt and tossed it into an unknown corner.

You squeaked at a harsh grab to your ass.

"Jump." You didn't hesitate to follow his instructions, too focused on the pressure steadily pressing into your cunt to be mean.

You lifted yourself up as Kite's hands went under your ass to secure you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, hands gripping his shoulders for life as his movements became more intense.

Lips attached themselves to your collarbone. The sucking sensation making you push his head down further into your breasts.

The very same that had distracted Kite from his work. The ones he'd be sure to mark up in dark bruises so you knew he only wanted you. The same way you only wanted him.

Your bra was quickly discarded to give him better access. Your chest heaving so hard up and down, it was practically inviting him to take one of your soft buds into his mouth.

"H-hey!" You whimpered out at the feeling of teeth scraping down your nipple. The added stimulation had you clenching around nothing. You reached up and tugged on his silver locks to ground yourself.

You were met with a groan and another squeeze to your ass.

At this rate you'd make a mess in your pants. And judging by the now erratic roll of his hips, so was Kite.

You tugged harder on his scalp as he switched breasts. A well aimed thrust to you clit had you whining.

"Wait, wait, wait! You're gonna make me cum!" You didn't want to climax so early. Not when he hadn't even had a chance to be inside you. That and it would be embarrassing.

Your own fingers had failed you, but just grinding on each other was the thing that would do you in?

Kite detached from your now reddening nipple. His gaze was heated and his face had that flustered expression you loved so much.

"Then cum, since it's what you wanted so badly a few days ago. But we won't be finished until I say so." With another well aimed thrust, you felt white hot pleasure course through your body.

Your legs tensed up tight around him as you felt your pussy clamp down around nothing. A wanton moan slipping past your lips with a new surge of wetness leaking out of you. The coil in your belly at last snapping.

You'd get him back for that. For believing he was the one in control. You wouldn't be done here until you milked his cock for everything he's worth. Until you'd taken every last drop from him.

You came down from your high to see a smug expression on your boyfriend's face. Very pleased with the affect he had on you.

Okay so maybe you'd let him keep topping you. Just for tonight. A shame though, you really wanted to ride his pretty cock.

Your hands released their grip on his hair, instead moving to cup his face.

"You feel that?" You ground your hips down on his hardness, a noticeable wet spot in the middle on your pants.

"You did that to me. You make me so needy that just the thought of you filling me up is enough. You're mine, and I'm never gonna let you go."

Kite couldn't believe that was all it took to have him cumming in his pants. That he was yours, and despite the temporary long distance, your mind hadn't changed.

Your words of affirmation brought him to his peak in a way that had him bitting into your neck to cope with the pleasure.

He was gonna ruin you when he recovered.

You hissed at the sting but cradled his head tucked into your neck. Letting him continue to hump into your clothed cunt until he was satisfied.

You swiped his hat off to get a better look at his expression when he finally separated from your neck.

Lidded eyes and a flush that went from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears.

You weren't so kept together yourself. Chest and neck covered with splotchy bruises, eyes darkened with a certain hunger that was about to be fulfilled.

A soft kiss was pressed to your lips. You returned it, fingers once again threading through silver locks. A murmur of 'I love you,' before you were carried towards the bed.

Your hands went under his shirt, lightly tracing over lean muscle.

"Love you too, now let me see you." Your hands wandered down his torso, stopping at the edge of his turtleneck. With a nod of confirmation, it was lifted up and discarded.

In your desperation to fuck out your frustrations last time, you'd missed the faint scarring that littered his skin. Now that things were going a little slower, you could clearly make them out.

Those damn ants had done a number on him.

But you didn't really mind them. Because to you, Kite was beautiful no matter what. And as he made quick work of your pants, you could tell he really didn't mind either.

"Do you want me to touch you?" His voice sounded a little shy. He could very clearly see the damp spot from when you'd cum earlier. He was more than ready to split your pussy open with his cock, but if wanted to indulge in a little foreplay, he would wait.

"I've waited four months for you. Don't make me wait longer." Your hands tugged at his pants. Seems the both of you couldn't hold back anymore.

So your underwear was pulled down and out of the way along with the rest of Kite's clothes.

Like last time, he made sure to keep one hand intertwined with yours while the other was on your hip.

You almost cried with relief as he sunk in. The stretch felt euphoric. Immediately your legs had wrapped around his waist, trying to push him in deeper. The both of you moaned at the sensation. At the closeness that you'd both been denied.

Kite pulled out slightly, hand gripping yours tightly as he thrusted back in. You were so tight. So perfect and warm. Your walls clinging to him like they'd never let him go.

His own cock making a home for itself inside you. The size reminding you of why you'd officially been ruined for any other man. Filling you so nicely it bumped into your cervix.

Speaking of filling you up...

"We really outta stop doing this without condoms," you whimpered out as he gave another shallow thrust. It's not like you didn't like the idea of kids because you did. You really did. But as of right now, it wasn't ideal. At least not with the current circumstances.

To your surprise, the snap of Kite's hips increased. His pace speeding up, earning a gasp of pleasure from you.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. The both of you if it takes." The hand holding yours disappeared for a second to adjust your position, legs being folded up to your chest. The new angle making you see stars.

Your mind becoming hazy as your boyfriend pounded into you with new fervor. Your now free hands reaching behind his back with your nails sinking in. It felt so good.

So deep he was bullying your cervix.

Your body trying its best to meet his thrusts. There was a hot pressure bubbling up once again. The stickiness between your bodies growing as you took in his words.

You'd have left it at that, but some part of you wanted to push a little further.

"Gonna, hah, leave for twelve years after?"

There was a harsh nip to your neck followed by a soft lap of the tongue. His bruising pace consistent.

"Gonna give you another one if you compare me to him again. I'm practically raising his son with you." You clenched down hard on his cock, nails scraping down his back.

That was not an answer you were expecting.

Kite tried to stifle his moan against your neck. He pressed harder against you, no longer pulling out. Instead rutting fast inside your tightening pussy.

You could feel yourself get impossibly close. If the thought of filling you up made him this feral....

An evil idea struck you then. You did love to tease, consequences be damned.

"Yeah?" You couldn't stop the high pitched whimper that left you as your clit brushed against him. You wouldn't last much longer.

"Wanna get me pregnant to show off? Wanna be a daddy for me?" You felt his movements stutter.

You knew what you were doing to him, but he couldn't help taking the bait. Not when your own words had caused you to gush around him.

And god hearing it from you made him want to stuff you with cum until there was no more room. Fill you up so good your stomach would be bulging.

So that's exactly what he did.

With his cock twitching inside you and the pressure in his stomach snapping, he filled your creamy cunt to the brim. Your own orgasm triggering from the warmth spreading inside you.

You'd tensed around Kite, keeping him firmly in place as you came. The spasms from your cunt milking him dry.

Your expression was fucked out when you finally released him. The snark wiped off and replaced. There were a few new bruises to your collection. A very large one on your waist and some small ones on the backs of your legs.

Maybe he was a little rough with you, but to be fair four months was a long time to wait. Unbearable with the sexting you initiated.

He moved to pull out and was stopped by your voice.

"Don't... We'll clean up in the morning. I want cuddles and you feel nice inside." You'd make him hard again if you kept running your mouth.

But he supposed you had a point. There was no need to rush this time. You had the opportunity to spend the night(a few nights actually), why not enjoy it?

He rolled you over so you were face to face, and pulled your body snug against his.

"I love you, Y/n." There was a kiss to your forehead. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of finally being able to tell you.

"I love you too, my pretty boy." And you'd never get tired of reminding him you felt the same.

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#hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh x reader #hxh x y/n #kite hunter x hunter #kite x reader #kite x y/n #kite smut #hxh kite #x reader #smut #hxh kaito

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freshlyrage · 3 months

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 26

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.1k

IMPORTANT a/n: Hi... I said that if the Celtics won I'd post tonight so ya know! Here it is hehe. LETS GO CELTICS

Finally used the scene in Season 1 episode 5 of Narcos of Javi and Murphy in the car. There's a lot of perspective change in this one, this section will be like this most the time just because are characters are so far apart!

Ok bye enjoy

New Orleans 1988

“Do you remember being sixteen?”

You cackle, playing with the golden bee at your lobe, looking up at your student Chiron. He had been eating his lunch in your classroom for about two months since, the cafeterias ac is shit, his words. You dig into the cake your students bought you, they thought you would cancel their monday practice quiz with a little birthday celebration. They were greatly mistaken.

Today you're twenty-four. Everytime you think of it your brain freezes.

You remember being sixteen like it’s yesterday. You nod, washing down the store bought dry red velvety mess with water. “Yes. It sucked.”

Chiron laughs just the same, opening the pink milk box on his tray. “When were you sixteen? In 1950?”

You stare at him with your most deadpan look, shaking your head. “I turned sixteen in 1980. I was living in Laredo, Texas and I spent my birthday alone. I received flowers from my… friend and my mom took me dress shopping two days later. What was yours like?”

You and Chiron talk every day. You know he lives in a group home, you know he gets excited when he gets asked about his own life and even more excited when someone shares stories about theirs. He reminds you everyday that you want to have a son one day, you guess you’ll tell him when he's older. Hopefully then you could introduce your son to him and have a laugh about it.

Teaching has given you a purpose. Being away from home has given you a purpose. Knowing no one has given you a purpose. You tell him stories all the time, you’re going to sob when he walks across that stage in May.

“I went to the arcade with Teresa.” Teresa has been his girlfriend since the ninth grade, she went to St. Mary’s. They met doing community service and Chiron knows that they're going to be married. “She bought me this chain with her paycheck from Rouses. Are you doing anything for your birthday?”

You look at the picture of your little sister and niece sat up on her desk. Little three year old Sol holding Frankies babygirl Annie. “I still don’t know anyone out here but my coworkers so I’ll probably order in, watch Dirty Dancing and wait for a call from my brother.” You think of Javier for a moment, wondering if he knows today's your birthday.

You wonder if you have crossed his mind.

You saw him in the paper when you went home for christmas, you didn't visit your mother.

You went home to simply spoil the babies at Frankie's house. You drove right back to your third floor apartment in Nola. Cried into your pillow until you slept and did it all over again for three more nights. Chiron nods, you have told him small stories about your life because he loves to listen. You’re weary of sharing too much, only offering bits you know will make him feel seen. You let him cry when he said he tried to meet his father during Christmas break and he didn’t show. That's when you decided to tell him about your first trip to New Orleans.

Chiron frowns and sips his milk. He just got a haircut, flat top style, he had been growing his hair out the whole year for it. “Do you think Javier will call you?”

You smile at Chiron. He had been trying to pry information about your former lover for weeks. It all started after Christmas break when he cried about his father. You told him that family can be found anywhere, that your only family for a bit was your best friend who happened to be your boyfriend.

“Do you live with Javier now?”

You shook your head, “He moved away for work.” Nearly a lie, you didn’t feel it was appropriate to tell your seventeen year old student the painful details of your life.

Chiron went quiet for a few seconds, his face going inward. Eyes shy and sad, it happens every time he’s asked about his parents.

“So who is your family now?”

Andrea drops her keys on her kitchen counter being greeted by tiny tweets. She grins from ear to ear, placing her purse down on the couch. Walking to her cage, the two birds chirped.

“Are you singing Happy Birthday to me?” She gets on her tiptoes, offering her fingers to the babies, they take the chance. “Thank you, mommy’s going to watch Dirty Dancing because she’s lonely. Okay?”

She brings Jewel to her face in a phantom kiss while Harvey finds sanctuary on her shoulder.

She always wanted pets but her mother never allowed it. The second Andrea put down her deposit for her apartment, she hopped in her car and bought two blue budgies. They nipped and scurried away from her each time she approached them but after two months of persistence they finally warmed up to her. They’re now her best friends. She’s become a crazy bird lady. Just in September she left a date abruptly because she realized she hadn't fed them in a day and a half. Its safe to say she didn’t get a call back from Mr. Henning.

She sits on her couch after loading the VHS and yawning. Her birdies flying back to their cage.

That was the summer of 1963 - when everybody called me Baby, and it didn't occur to me to mind.

At 6pm she receives a call. Her heart sinks and for a moment she thinks, maybe.

But ultimately she knows not to be so silly, she knows she needs to be angry with him but she doesn’t have it in her anymore. She unravels herself from the nest she’s made on her couch and tip toes on the hardwood floor to her home phone.

She spoke to Genie this morning, receiving a happy birthday song from her brother and their baby’s incoherent babbles. They say little Annie is upset that Tia Andrea lives so far.

“Hello?” Andrea shushes her birds, they love to chirp when she’s on the phone.

“Happy Birthday Andrea,”

And she knows Don Chuchos voice anywhere.

Andrea closes her eyes at the sound. She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever and she’s riddled with grief at the sound of his voice after nearly two years.

“Thank you Chucho.” Andrea remembers the way he looked at her when she sat in the blistering heat on Javier’s wedding day. He looked at her knowingly, he could see that beyond the made up face she was on the brink of a breakdown. “How’s everything back home?”

“You would know if you stopped by to see me last month.”

She winces. When Andrea came home for Christmas she made it her business to be seen by no one. Especially anyone who knew anything about Javi.

She was finally feeling better.

Everything was out in the open now, everyone knew their business. The scandal blew through town, she had to leave.

“I know, I'm sorry. I’m just still working through everything that happened. I knew if I stopped by your house it would bring up old memories.” Since Andrea moved to New Orleans she has gone back to Laredo five times. Two of the times she visited her mother, every other time was a straight shot to Frankie’s home. Calling him to make sure he takes Sol for the day so Andrea could see her too. She would spend two lovely nights on their plush couch and drive home the next day.

Through the crackle of the receiver Chucho hums in understanding.

In a twisted way Andrea always wanted him to be her father. She loved the idea of marrying Javier for more reasons than one. She wanted to officially be a part of his tiny family she loved so deeply.

“Would this be a bad time to talk about him?”

Andrea, the despondent girl. A girl alone, leaning against her lonely walls, a girl belonging to no one. Is a girl who cannot resist hearing about the one she loved.

Loves.

“Yes.” She allows it. He complies because she knows he must have no one to talk to about this.

“He told me last week that he’s seeing a specialist—therapist, once a week.”

She smiles. She remembers the last time they had sex they talked about reaching out for help. She supposes it’s her turn.

“That’s- I'm relieved to hear that. Is he doing okay out there?”

Andrea has a reoccurring nightmare. She’s walking to work, the heat is brutal and her hands are full of groceries. In her nightmare, one of the bags rip open, fruit falling on the concrete. Every time, she follows an apple that rolls until it hits a news stand. And there—there she sees his face. There she reads his public obituary, the slain American agent. There she dissolves to nothing and wakes up crying harder than she ever has. She cried until she felt like dissolving into nothing.

“He spares me details that would send me into a stroke but you know. It’s very dangerous work but he’ll make it back home in one piece. He’s too stubborn to die young.”

Her eyes flicker to the ground and her chin quivers at his words. “Do you miss him?” Is all she can mutter. She cannot be alone in this feeling. She doesn’t like to feel this way. She liked to believe that she gets along without him well, but sometimes the wind blows and it reminds her of summer nights in his bed and she isn’t sure she could go on lying to herself.

Chucho sighs, “He misses you.” He doesn’t answer your question. He knows what you wanted to ask. “He doesn’t tell me because he’s afraid, but every conversation I can hear it in his voice. He is still grieving being away from you, still grieving being deceived. I know you are too. But I wanted to call to tell you that he is okay. I want you to be okay too, Andrea.”

January 1988 Bogota, Colombia

There isn't much work being done. Scoping out for a sicario in a hundred degree weather wasn't ideal but it left some time for beers and ramblings. Murphy dug his hand into the cup holder for another sip of Club Colombiano. “So what year was this?” Murphy looks over to Javi. It had been almost a week since he last saw Hertz. His next session is in two days. He found himself walking with less weight. He even finally told Murphy the name of the girl whose picture is taped on the corner of his desk.

“1986” Javier rasps. “I was driving to the church. I was with my buddy Frankie. He was my best man.” He nearly whispers the last bit. “We were late. It was fucking blazing, 110 degrees. The whole bridal party was there sweating their balls off I’m sure. Frankie is shaking like a leaf next to me, like he’s fucking getting married. Looking for a lighter for a joint he rolled. Mind you, we're been in my bride's car since she arrived in a limousine.”

“Don’t tell me you left her at the altar.”

Javier deadpans, “Let me finish my story.” Murphy chuckles, pressing the cold beer to his neck. “He opens the glove compartment and some papers fall into his lap. And boom, we hit a traffic jam. Frankie, my best man, being the nosy fuck he his opens up the papers. He goes, three months pregnant as of June 6th, can't believe we’re both having kids. I swear to god–”

“No!” Murphy gasps.

“Yeah, Lorraine, the bride, and I hadn’t had sex since February of that year. She was showing a lot, I never thought twice when she told me she was five months along.” Murphy is staring at him like this was the juiciest television worthy story ever told. Javier looks blankly into the rolling hills of Colombia wondering why this happened to him. “I had dropped everything in my life to rush into a loveless marriage for the convenience of a family that wasn't even mine.” His eyes cast low and he feels sick. “So I turned the car around. And Andrea was there waiting to watch me marry someone else. In the heat.”

Murphy rarely knew who Andrea was other than the pretty ex-girlfriend whose picture is taped on his desk; he didn’t tell him too much. The story is enticing, he supposes. Exhilarating from the outside.

Murphy grins, “Well, you saved her a lifetime of hell.”

He knows it’s true, his inner monologue being spat right back in his face yet he can’t seem to swallow that reality. He's a weak man, he hoped that Murphy would tell him he was wrong, that he needed to get up on a plane this instant and find his girl.

He’s silent for a moment. “Yeah, she never spoke to me again, Andrea I mean. She’ll probably be married to a-a stock broker or some shit when I come home.” If I come home, he intends to say but decides maybe this wasn’t the moment. “Trust me, she’s better off.”

“I told my partner, Steve Murphy, about the wedding.”

“That's amazing, Javier.” She sits back down in her brown leather chair, sipping her tea from her small yellow thermo. “How did you feel afterward?” Javier went home to drink himself to sleep. He decides to keep that detail to himself, before reaching forward to sip water instead of fulfilling his urge to light up.

“I felt like I’ve taken some sort of step forward. Then I remembered how it was telling Andrea. Then I felt like I regressed once again, I didn't wake up for work the next morning. This Tuesday I mean.” She’s taking it all in, yet something i n her twinkles. He sees her satisfaction, she knows this is a shy way of telling her he’s ready to talk about it again. Things are changing for him so quickly.

“We were cut for time last week.”

“We were.”

“So,”

“So.” Javier's eyes jet to the plush rug below him. “I walked to her house the night I agreed to marry Lorraine.”

June 18th 1986

He stopped by The Tap before strolling his way into your neighborhood. Sitting on a barstool like he would do back in High School, eyes peeled to the door wondering if his mother would miraculously walk in. This time he doesn’t drink so much, he pushes three beers back and feels sad enough to see you. Sad enough to break your heart. Liquid courage? Is that what they call it? He feels a buzz in his spine.

Somehow he ends up at your door.

“Javi, are you alright? It's late.” You whisper, closing the front door behind you. It reminds him of the time he walked to your house after getting wasted. Catching you in Cabaret makeup, you turning bright red under white paint.

This time you’re bare faced and so much more of a woman. Javier studies you in a buzzed haze, you’re concerned and it’s pissing him off. There you are, barefoot on your porch. Caught off guard and still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. You step down one step. He wants to drop to his knees and apologize.

You sense his sorrow so you step back up to be near to his height, placing your hands on his face. Holding his face, “Baby, are you okay?” He knows your worried little face, he knows that somehow in that brain of yours—you’re conspiring what you could have done wrong. Yet it’s never you, it’s always him. You’ve never done wrong.

“Hey…” You whisper, attempting to soothe his quivering chin with a kiss.

He looks away. Looking into your eyes will kill him. Rejecting your kiss all together. “I’m sorry.” Javier’s voice breaks, and he isn’t embarrassed but he wants to die. He wants it to end because he feels your body go cold without even having to look at you. He’s crying and hiding his face, holding you close and hard. Sobbing into your chest, staining your gray shirt like you did his when he left the first time. “I’m so sorry—I knew I wouldn’t be right for you—Querida, I’m sorry.”

----

He crushes your body with his. He’s muttering words about a wedding, a pregnancy and you’re being crushed. You’re losing air and you hope he squeezes you tighter, hope your eyes fog and you fall.

Hope to wake up in a cold sweat, and it's all a bad dream. Hope to call him to hang out at the lake.

He’s crying, and its the worst sound you’ve ever heard. Saying he didn’t mean to become a father. He doesn’t mean to hurt you. He doesn’t know why he hurts you. He says he doesn’t want to be married to her. Calling you sweet names and cursing his own.

You tell him over and over that it’s okay. Yet you hope he crushes you until you disappear.

“It’s okay—Javi please, it’s okay— I understand.” You run a hand through his hair and lower your bodies to sit on the steps. It’s 2 am. He’s drunk and unable to give you details without crying in your lap now but you know all that you need to know.

When you saw her—Lorraine. When you saw her wide nose and round little belly you felt fear running through your veins. And you slept with that panic, you dismissed it but your bones felt it. Your intuition told you that the two of you will never be the same. You saw him stare at her belly for a second too long and there—right there— you knew you were in the way of something.

Eventually he feels okay enough to sit up straight. He still can’t look at you and you miss him in your lap when he does. You miss being able to hide yourself from him. You miss being able to shut your eyes in agony at each word of consolation. Now he can see you, even if he doesn’t look you in the eye he can see you.

You’re able to understand that she’s five months, that they gave him a choice. To never see her and his child, child— his child— or get married. Through it all you tell him it’s okay.

“I don’t think I have another choice— I can’t be.-“

“A deadbeat.” You finish for him and he doesn’t respond. The two of you have a million unspoken words between the two of you.

Look at me, look at what happens when you abandon your child. Look what girls like me put up with. Look at me, you hurt me and I'm still thinking of ways to make it work in my broken little brain.

He knows what his mother did, how could he ever? How? So you could never find it in you to be angry.

“I’m sorry— I just can’t.”

You shut your eyes and lean back into the steps of your home. The sky was bright that night, you couldn’t understand why the universe still presented its beauty during such a moment.

“When will you get married?” You suppose maybe you like to hurt yourself.

“They said two weeks.”

You drop your head into your hands and let out a sob. Heart slamming against your ribs, drowning in it. You fear that you’ll become one with earth, a puddle seeping into the grass ahead of you. You feel his panic next to you. He’s whispering your name, and tearing against the back of your head. Your shoulders wrack and you try to speak.

But you decide silence is all you can handle.

So you stay like this for a few minutes.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” You ask finally, pathetically.

And he’s quick to nod, “Yes—please.” His deep voice sends a vibration down your spine. And the two of you walk into your home, without fear—no room for such a silly feeling.

He undresses and you do too.

He faces the ceiling and you fear neither of you will catch any hours tonight. You still curl into his chest, for the last time. Feeling his warm tan skin below your ear. You count his heartbeats for minutes at a time. You count your own, attempting to make it stop on your own. Your stomach hurts so badly, you may cry just from that. But you think that you’re a twenty two year old woman who is somehow all cried out. You think of the sun coming up and him getting up to leave, you wonder what the next two weeks will look like.

You’re sure that if you could you’d stay just like this, together and avoidant until it’s time. Just like you planned a week ago when your only fear was him leaving to Colombia.

You know he’d do the same because the two of you love pain like no other. You stay in your inferno of a brain for nearly an hour. You know he can’t sleep.

“What are we going to do?” He asks and you frown.

“Go our separate ways.”

“I don’t want to.” He’s quick to respond, angry.

“I know.”

“Do you want to?”

“No. But I have to. You have to.”

“As long as I know you, I'll want you, Andrea.”

You shut your eyes and breathe. You hope he forgets you. You hope you can. You suppose you have to try.

“After the wedding, I don’t think I’ll ever want to speak to you again.”

You feel him intake a shaky breath. Your heart breaks again. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

His chest rises, “It’s okay. I understand.” You nod, the post of the earrings he bought you scraping his skin. “We probably shouldn’t see each other after today.” He admits and you know he’s right.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I could be a bridesmaid?” You attempt to joke and he doesn’t laugh. You can’t tell what he does but he shivers.

“Not funny.”

“I’m sorry.” You exhale. And there the two of you are pensive. Already missing each other.

He sighs and it's silent once more. “I really love you.”

You sigh just the same and you love him more. You decide you couldn’t say it out loud this time.

Colombia 1988

His elbow is rested on the arm of the chair and his mouth is pressed to a fist. Eyes closed for a few moments. He thinks of the silence of that night, how he hasn't heard you say I love you since. The words that kept him going, but fuck it, he didn’t feel like he deserved it. He made their life such a mess, over and over again. Again his brain regresses to that of a child, of his own head when he was eleven, when he tore up his mothers room and stained her poetry with his tears.

He has spent two years suffering, he knows there will be no winning. He lost you. He came here prematurely hoping to win in some way. To bring some good, save some people but he realized there's no winning here either. Just suffering and corruption. The longer he watches people die he swears his faith chips slowly with it.

So he looks over his shoulder once or twice when he leaves his session. There were very few words spoken by Dr. Hertz but what can you do when his story silences so many?

He wishes it could silence his own thoughts but instead it festers and crowds his brain in the most crucial moments. Like when he led a raid in a bar in Medellin and swore the woman who sat at the bar with a gun to her head was you. In genuine panic he freezes, the casualties raised from 24 to 25 at that moment. All because of you—him—all because of his thoughts of you, plaguing him.

And he thinks of you in the most insignificant moments. Insignificant like burying himself deep in the cunt of a woman who’s being paid. He thinks of you and can't keep it up from the guilt. What a curse it is to feel so deeply about someone.

He remembers once, you lie beside him half asleep and mumbling like you did after sex. You said that sometimes love scares you so much that for a time you wished to never feel it. He thought of you so crazy, he fears he understands you now.

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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greenlotusleaf · 2 years

Note

The witch isn't done with me.

"This pregnancy is making someone a bit fat," she says cheerfully. Of course, she isn't referring to herself. She's painfully svelte and attractive. Her hand kneads the bare curve of my belly. She loves every new widening inch of me. I can't respond. The other stuffs another donut in my mouth. I'm blushing and grateful.

I swallow it and groan. My belly is bloated. The stretchmarks are creeping into view, stretching across more of me.

"Sounds like the twins could use another," the witch says. "They want their mommy really fat and comfy." She's practically using me as a mattress. Her long straight blond hair spreads across my vastness.

They don't need another. I don't need another. I'm enormous. I don't have a choice, neither the witch nor my pregnancy cravings would be satisfied unless I was packed to bursting. Another glazed donut is shoved in my mouth. I hate it and love it at the same time. I eat slowly, but I'm not savoring it. I dread and anticipate what it'll do my waistline.

When the last donut is finally inside me, I release a heavy sigh. There's a snap. My underwear have snapped. I want to cry. Pregnancy hormones.

"Come on," the witch says. "Let's get you up." She has to lift my own arms for me. Her skinny fingers grip my chubby hands. I'm exhausted from the 10 hour marathon meal the witch and my body conspire to subject me to everyday.

I'm embarrassed. My vulnerability embarrasses me because I've never been so vulnerable and dependent in my life. I don't know how to process it.

She strains, smiles, and says, "I think you've put on a few." But with effort we get my body upright. I groan. We leave the broken pair of underwear, the tattered remains of my old self, on the sofa.

My body protests against gravity. I can feel each new wobbling pound of me with each waddling step. I have breasts now. Real knockers. Udders. They swell up a little more every day. They sit on my vast swollen middle. I can't seen anything over the horizon of my girth. It's as though my entire existence has become about my belly. How much the twins have grown. How much food need to eat. My thighs rub against each other. My hip brushes the wall.

It all used to be so easy. I took moving for granted. With my slender figure I was able to move easily, like a feather on the wind. The witch holds my side for me while I steady myself against the wall. In a month, there might not be room for both of us in the hall.

I groan with each step. "I know," she says softly. "I know, but you're doing great."

She helps me remove the tent-like dress that drapes over my curves. I don't recognize myself. There's nothing left of me. Tears well up, but I resist them. This is what I wanted.

She doesn't let go of my hand as she helps my bulky mass into the tub. My the flesh of hips press against the sides. I didn't have hips before all of this either. "I think I'm going to have to widen the tub again with the way you've been eating," the witch says. She's already widened it twice for my mass.

With a flick of her hand, warm water envelops me. There isn't enough. My belly can't be contained. It emerges from the water like an island. My breasts too. Still, it feels good to have some of the weight off my muscles. I'm a whale.

The witch works in silence. She cups water in her hands and lets it tumble down my mass from my tight belly button all the back to the tub. She anoints my stretchmarks with oil from roses. Finally, she tells me, "You were meant to be a mommy. Under that slim little figure, I knew there was a mother who could nourish life waiting to widen at the chance. You're taking to it beautifully."

I let the tears take me. This is what I wanted.

#holy shit this is really something #any witches out there looking for a little project?

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thedepthsoffandomminds · 1 year

Text

The dragon, The Witch and the Window.

Part two

Part one here

Aemond tries to find a way to bring you back to him, but the red witch has other ideas.

"It is cold, my love, come away from the window." Aemond asked you, wrapping a thick blanket around your shoulders and guiding you away from the window. It had once been open fully, allowing all ellements to drift in and out.

"I don't mind it." You reply letting him lead you to the dressing table.

"We are leaving today, for your cousin's house. Will you please reconsider the carriage? Riding on Vaghar will be much faster." He pleaded with you yet again.

"Perhaps at DragonStone we could find you a new dragon? There are three wild ones living amongst theirs I believe."

"I don't want another dragon. I want my dragon. What happened Reagaran's body?"

Aemond had been dreading the moment you asked him this question.

"Vaghar took him. I don't know where." He knlet down beside you, "She bonded with him, I think in their own way ther were lovers." You watch him in the mirror.

"Why are we going to Dragonstone?" You ask.

"For you. You were always happiest there."

"For me? There is no me."

Aemond drops his head to your hand.

"Then perhaps we will find you there?"

You knew he was begging you. He begged everyday with his kind hands, and gentle voice. He brought gifts, your favourite flowers, soaps you'd always liked amongst them.

"I do not wish to fly." You say at last, standing from the table and moving toward the door. A maid placed a long heavy cloak over your shoulders. Aemond followed, slipping into his own heavy coat.

"Take my hand, my love."

Returning to your silence you placed your arm through his and followed him through the castle. Two guards walked behind you. They were always behind you. walking down the marbled stairs you stumbled, a jolt of pain in your side took your breath away. Aemond gripped you with both hands.

"What is it? Are you hurt?" He tried to study you for any signs of outward pain.

"I'm fine, walking still hurts." you hold onto him the rest of the way leaning into his side. He helps you into the carriage, sitting you on the sofest cushions he could muster.

"Aemond? A word?" His mother called to him. He left you reluctantly to the maids.

"What is it mother?"

"Don't go! Your sister will never let you leave." Alicent begged him.

"It is just for y/n to feel better. She needs her home." He tried to reasure her.

"No, Aemond, Daemon will kill you. How many times do I have to tell you? This entire marriage was always going to fail."

"Mother, enough. I will send a Raven when we have arrived safely." He gives her short nod of his head before climbing back into the carriage. The maids excuse themselves and leave for their horses.

The journey began. the journey went on. for three days it went on, The carriage you sat in was long, long enough that you had a small bed, a table of food and seating area to yourselves. The winter air whipped in through the gaps in the wood, so you kept yourself hidden below the blankets. At night Aemond would join you, pull you close to his body. Each time you hoped it would bring you warmth, yet, every time you continued to shiver.

"I wish I could warm you somehow." Your husband rubbed your cold fingers between his hands. "You need to dress, we will be arriving soon." The winter had come so quickly to Westeros, leaving no time to gather proper clothing. Your husband helped to place two pairs of your thickest stockings over your legs and helped you to pull the dress over your head.

"would you like me to help you?" You ask when he turns to add a second shirt to his outfit.

"I'm alright. Thank you." He fumbled with the buttons and ties on his clothes. You move to him, taking his hands and pushing them down to his side so you could fix his tunic.

"You're nervous." You whisper.

"Your cousin isn't my biggest fan, and I'm not particularly keen on being in the same room as the boy who cut out my eye." He tightens his jaw.

"You attacked the girls and called them names." You remind him. "You should be nervous. You will be lucky if my cousin doesn't behead you the moment he sees you." You look into his face, eyes cold.

"I'm sorry." He repeated the two words he said every day. Another pain hit you, this time higher, closer to your lungs and you doubled over with the pain, falling to Aemond's arms.

"What is it? The pains again? What can I do?" He asked quickly. He held you against him and moved to the chairs. The carriages rolled down to stop. "Can you stand?" He looked at you, his chest heavy.

Pushing your teeth together you nod and push yourself to stand, trying to ignore the pain. Both of you step out into the cold, stark light of shoreline castle. Your cousin Daemon and his wife Rhaenyra had walked down to greet you. Daemon marched forward pulling you out of Aemond's hands. You winced as his hold caused you more pain.

"Kill him." Daemon growled at his guards. You grabbed at his tunic.

"No. Cousin, no." You say turning back to your husband.

Aemond followed quietly behind the rest of you up the long steps to the castle. He stayed silent as they showed you both to your chambers. Said nothing as they settled you into the room. Three fireplaces had been lit and all windows sealed shut with heavy shutters.

Rhaenyra stepped close to him before leaving the room, "We are glad you are here brother." She smiled at him.

Days passed you by. Both of you had settled into the life of Dragonstone. One night alone by your fires Aemond admitted to you that he felt freer here than he ever had at Kingslanding. He told you one evening that he had forgiven Luce for taking his eye.

The two of you had fallen asleep on the soft bed in your chambers, a dull night outside with the turning of winter to spring. Pain pulled you from your sleep. A pain that felt as if your guts were attempting to rip out of your skin. Once stood a shiver ran from your toes to your head and no longer did you have control of yourself.

When Aemond woke, it was as if from a nightmare, though he hadn't been dreaming. He felt the lack of presence instantly. Panic set into him as he searched the room, the door was open. Aemond flew out of it, calling your name as he followed the dark corridors.

"what is it?" Jace flung open his door at the noise.

"I can't find y/n." Jace could see the fear in his uncle's face.

"How long has she been gone?" He asked.

"I don't know, we were asleep. Windows, what windows are open?" Aemond felt his mouth turning to cotton.

"Windows? Every room has at least three."

"We need to find her, Jace."

"I'll get the others-" Jace started, his sentence cut off by Aemond turning stiff, his eyes glazed white, all expression of emotion fell from his face. Aemond turned, walked stiffly through the halls. Jace followed him.

"Get my mother and Daemon." He ordered a guard as they passed him.

Aemond walked blindly into the grand hall, he ascended the winding stairs of the far tower. At the top a room void of any furniture stood with a window long and wide. You stood silently at the edge, a small metal barrier at your ankles. Aemond stopped a few paces behind you. Not close enough to touch you. Jace walked around him, followed your eyeline. Across the bridge on the cliff edge stood a woman clothed in red robes. The wind whipped the fabric around her.

Rhaenyra, Daemon, Luce and the girls came running in behind you all.

"What is this?" Rhaenyra demanded.

"Out there, there is a woman." Jace pointed to her.

Daemon growled low in his throat.

"She is a witch. I've seen her like before."

"What do we do?" Rhaenyra asked.

"We need to know what she wants." Daemon looked around.

"Aemond, she wants Aemond." Beala said. "Y/n told us, she got into the castle as a maid seduced him. Before she was cast out they forced moon tea into her."

You room a step closer to the edge, Jace grabbed your shoulders trying to hold you back. Whatever magic she held of you was too strong, he could not pull you away.

"What do we do?" Rhaenyra felt panic settling in her chest.

"Give her what she wants!" Daemon shoved Aemond's shoulder and he took a step forward. Rhaenyra grabbed her husband.

"Stop Daemon."

"I'll go out to her." Rhaena stated, "I'll find what she wants."

Jace went with her. Everyone watched as the pair walked to the gates. When you took another step Daemon demanded that rope be put up at the window. Four lengths of thick rope were tied across the window. Aemond had moved closer to your back as they worked. His hands had taken hold of your shoulders.

The screech of a dragon rang through the air and Sunfyre Darkened the moon for a moment before flying to the window. The Prince jumped from his mount and through the ropes.

"The witch has him. We have to get through to him." Aegon shouted, he placed one hand on Aemond's chest, "Brother, you must stop. Listen to me, Aemond. You're going to hurt her. You're going to hurt y/n."

Aemond blinked.

"Here me, Brother. Y/n will die!"

Aegon moved his hand to his brother's, slowly sliding it away from your shoulders. He walked Aemond backward away from the window.

"Hold him!" He yelled at Daemon before running to you. He glanced out at the witch, she was facing Rhaena and Jace. "Y/n, it's Aegon, you need to come away from the window. Please." Your body was still rigid, you barely swayed when he pushed you. "Please y/n."

He voice carried into Aemond's mind, echoing in his ears. One name, repeating. Y/n, y/n, y/n. Each time the voice drew closer until vision began to come back to him. The hand of his uncle pressed to his chest.

"Y/n." He choked out. Daemon looked round to him. "Don't let her jump, please." He clawed at Daemon's arms. "Please uncle." He pushed against him Daemon shoved the prince back against the wall. "Please, let me go! Uncle let me go to her." He tried to push against him again. Daemon looked at him, seeing that his eye was no longer clouded over.

The dark sky that had been clear of clouds now shifted. A new darkness rolled over, blocking out the stars. A crack of thunder shook the sky, the walls and their legs. A flash of flame burst into the room and Jace and Rhaena dropped to the ground beside Rhaenyra. Your body strained against the ropes as Aegon fought to hold you back.

"what's happening?" Luce called out.

"She wants me." Aemond dropped his head in defeat. "She'll kill you all."

"No, Aemond, you can't." Aegon shouted.

"I won't let y/n die. Let me go."

He pushed against Daemon once more, this time gaining traction and moving away. Aemond walked to the window and slid through the ropes. Turning to you, he saw the white eyes that stared blankly out. The prince held your face, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I won't let her kill you." He looked to his brother, "Don't let mother win, she is blinded by our grandsire. Bend the knee to Rhaenyra." Before Aegon could argue Aemond stepped backward falling from the window. His arms out beside him, looking up at you.

Red flames licked around his body, capturing his body, whisking him across the water to the witch.

@blue-serendipity @daeneryqueenofhearts

#aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen

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