#he could have let the emotions at the loss of his friends spill out

[highly-flammable]

I still have so many thoughts about this scene.

It’s very interesting how regardless of what you think of Sauron’s motivations here, his emotions are completely genuine. Galadriel is someone who has believed in him, who has pushed him and revitalized him, and that feeling, that high he could chase forever. We see how lonely Sauron as a character is in S2, how he has felt betrayed at the hand of Adar, and how normal people (like Diarmid) don’t do anything for him. It takes someone like Galadriel with her level of power and wisdom, and that hint of darkness, to finally feel like he is not alone. That he has somehow been made better.

At the same time, you have to wonder why this is the moment that he chose to open up to Galadriel like this. In the scene right before, he seemed almost calculating as he called her name and stopped her from killing Adar. I, for one, am averse to having too much of a charitable opinion of this guy. To me, part of the beauty of this character in TROP is that he says and does many things that come from an emotionally honest place, but they end up serving his goals in little ways.

As I see it, both things are true: he could genuinely feel a connection to her and felt like communicating it (you can almost feel the words spilling out of him), and he also saw how this moment was absolutely ripe for Galadriel to know they were firm friends and therefore get bound to him. Their fight was seemingly over and he knew she was going to have to leave soon. He had to give her a reason to still have him around, and here he tries to do that. Galadriel is someone who has spent centuries looking for him so that she could destroy him, and this is when he sees that opening where he could get through to her and somehow make her feel that they did not have to be enemies. Sauron’s good at choosing the moments for planting seeds which will bear fruit later, and we will indeed see him referring to this interaction multiple times in the future.

Sidenote: Charlie Vickers has very soulful, expressive eyes.

Moving on to what I personally find even more interesting: Galadriel’s feelings. Morfydd once mentioned in an interview that when Galadriel meets Halbrand, she is desperate to feel anything other than grief. She has been drowning in it for centuries, and when Sauron pulls her out of the ocean in the middle of the tempest, their resurfacing is symbolic of a rebirth. As brash and headstrong and disrespectful as she finds Halbrand, she enjoys his audacity and his wit. She admires that he feels alive and seems to grasp at opportunities. He wakes her up, as much as she does it for him.

But between the two of them, Galadriel is the one still dealing with overwhelming loss. She is mourning so many of her kinsmen, particularly Finrod, who was clearly her guiding light, and also Celeborn. Different shipper camps will have their interpretations of Galadriel and Celeborn’s relationship, but I don’t think it’s up for debate that she had been quietly grieving him. It wasn’t enough to divert her from hunting down Sauron, but the grief itself is clear in 1x07 when she mentions him. Galadriel’s story has been a tapestry of different kinds of loss - the ones that are unexpected and come as a heavy blow like Finrod’s, and the ones where the realization slowly seeps in like poison and eats away at you.

It’s downright painful for her to admit here that she felt something poignant with regard to Halbrand, perhaps simply because she is so afraid of loss again. It must have been ages since she last let someone new in, and this person has rescued her and stood by her (aside from all the playing hard to get) when she was utterly alone. This is the moment where it truly hits her how much he has begun to mean to her, and having gone through what she has, you have to assume she is downright terrified of it, particularly because as per her knowledge, this is a mortal man, with no enhanced lifespan even, his time on middle-earth a mere blink against the ages she has endured and will continue to.

Their relationship has been coded as romantic from the very beginning (I would say right from the moment Sauron first tries to separate from the rest of the castaways in 1x02 and clearly plans to join her). But I don’t believe Galadriel in this scene would ever admit to herself if she felt anything romantic. It would be too much for her, and I don’t believe she is even in the headspace to think about these things . I have to say Morfydd and Charlie are right about one thing: romance alone doesn’t cover whatever they were trying to sell here. For both characters, this is a moment of a tremendous wall breaking down emotionally, and both of them realizing they have met their kindreds. This is the moment that understandably keeps haunting both of them, and I suppose will continue to for multiple reasons.

Sidenote 2: Galadriel’s little shaky breaths and subtly pained expressions are so masterfully done here by Morfydd. You almost feel like you are watching someone’s wounds being slowly, excruciatingly cut open again.

[hirukochan]

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle. 

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink. 

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour. 

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out. 

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war. 

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready. 

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie. 

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good. 

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend. 

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work. 

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint. 

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you. 

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.” 

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that. 

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean. 

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad. 

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it. 

You have always been Severus’ safespace. 

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting. 

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod. 

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings. 

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver. 

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely. 

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. 

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner... 

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips. 

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him. 

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you. 

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile. 

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you. 

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it. 

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans. 

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind. 

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long. 

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure. 

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder. 

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises. 

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow. 

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw. 

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you. 

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

[kendyzzlewp]

please, I’ve been on my knees, change the prophecy

jackson avery x fem!reader

summary: you watched in horror as the bus exploded, jackson no where to be found

type: angst - love confession - friends to lovers

The world around you seemed to slow down, each raindrop hitting your skin like a heavy weight as you watched in horror. The bus, engulfed in flames, painted a terrifying picture against the dark, rainy backdrop. Your heart pounded violently, a painful rhythm matching the chaos before you.

"Where's Jackson?" Your voice cracked with fear, desperation creeping into every syllable as you searched the chaos for him. "Torres, where's Jackson?"

Calle rushed past, her face a mask of grim determination as she shouted back, "He's right behind us!"

Your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you closer to the inferno despite the danger. "Jackson!" The name tore from your throat, a primal scream of terror and love.

But before you could reach him, Owen's strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you back with a force that matched the explosion that followed. The world seemed to explode around you, the heat searing your skin, the sound deafening as flames licked at the sky.

As you fell to the ground, the world became a blur of agony. The image of the burning bus, the screams of pain and fear, all merged into a cacophony of despair. And then, as if from a great distance, you heard it.

A gut-wrenching scream, raw with agony and loss. It took you a moment to realize that the sound was coming from you, ripped from your very soul as you watched, helpless, knowing that you were losing the person who mattered most to you.

You looked up at the sky, tears mingling with rain as you pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening. "Please," your voice was a broken whisper, "don't take him. Let it be me. Take me instead."

But the sky remained silent, offering no solace as you were left to face the devastation before you, a world shattered by flames and loss.

Through the raging flames, a silhouette emerged, barely visible amidst the inferno. It was Jackson, his figure illuminated by the flickering fire, holding a little girl close to his chest. Tears welled in your eyes as relief flooded through you, mingling with the haunting specter of what could have been.

With each faltering step, Jackson battled against the relentless blaze, his determination a beacon of hope in the darkness. You watched, heart in your throat, as he drew nearer, the flames licking dangerously close to his weary frame.

As he finally reached you, his breaths ragged and labored, he gently passed the trembling child into her mothers arms. She clung to her desperately, her tiny fingers digging into her skin, seeking solace from the nightmare that surrounded her.

With tear-filled eyes, you looked up at Jackson, his face streaked with ash and exhaustion. "You're an idiot," you whispered, the words a fragile prayer of gratitude.

He nodded weakly, a flicker of a smile ghosting across his soot-stained lips. "I know," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fury surged within you, mingling with the overwhelming relief as you looked up at Jackson, his face etched with exhaustion and soot.

"You can't just do that!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if you didn't make it out of there?"

Jackson's brow furrowed in confusion, his gaze searching yours for understanding. "I... I needed to save her," he murmured, his voice strained with emotion.

“And what about me?" Your voice cracked with emotion as tears spilled down your cheeks. "What would have happened to me if you had died in there?"

For a moment, Jackson seemed at a loss for words, his eyes wide with realization. And then, as if a dam had burst within him, he reached out to you, his fingers brushing against your tear-stained cheek.

"I... I didn't think," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I didn't realize..."

"You idiot," you breathed, your voice softening with love and exasperation. "I love you, you moron."

And as you melted into each other's arms, surrounded by the remnants of the devastation, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that could withstand even the fiercest flames.

[pityslash]

[repost] suggested mature content, characters are 18+.

katsuki didn't fall in love the same way as everyone else did. there wasn't a spark that took hold of his breath nor an arrow that struck so abruptly. it was slow and steady like a heartbeat, so soothing that he didn't even notice until it was too late.

everything was beautiful and blooming. you met katsuki when it was spring, when you were both too young and stupid for your own good, the cuts and bruises when you played too rough, the mutters of apology.

spring was the perfect time to plant good seeds in a relationship, a time to uproot any unwanted weeds. for years, you two never put a label on your relationship.. friends. but katsuki would find himself spending more time with you, hours of you getting on his nerves, him looking for you in a crowd, the annoying small talk.

it was fine until one day, his friends started to come to him, asking if you were around. “no. how the hell would i know where they are? i’m not babysitting.” it was bitter on his tongue.

“… you’re always together, man. please?” kirishima says, loud on the phone speaker. he said it so casually, the moment of silence before katsuki let out the breath he was holding, and he finally spills.

but in summer, true colors show. it took time, but you see each other's flaws as they are. when you feel each other in a deeper way, attraction grows at a very rapid pace and— physically, the fire of intimacy.

“how much did you drink?” he was drunk. you both were, and it could lead to nothing but headaches and heartaches.

the years of pining and not being able to admit it, when your friends would think you have been together all this time but no, it’s in the three magic words, when you make the feelings clear and spit it out.

it was a party.. a celebration party? there were games and stupid red cups and spiked drinks. the door knob pressed into your back, it hurt but nothing mattered as your hands tangled into his hair, shivering and you’re sure he was the only thing holding you up.

when you pulled apart momentarily to laugh, but quickly reconnected, as if you were each other’s source of air, unable to go without the other for more than a second.

the hands pulling you closer as if it was the last time, nose bumping and he confessed his love to you over a hundred times, how you’re the best person he’s ever met, you listened to every word.

“you love m- me?” the breath catches in your throat. no verbal response leaves katsuki’s mouth, he just nods. katsuki knows he can be emotional when he has a bit of alcohol in his system, he believes it’s more than that though.

a touch feels like it can burn through your skin, his hands slipping under your shirt, his lips were warm but his hands were surprisingly cold. he felt you jump, hand finding him in the dark, maybe you were ticklish..

“is this okay?” it wasn’t often you saw katsuki at a loss for words, even less often would you see him turn that shade of red. despite being under the influence, he never forgot to ask where to put his hands, making sure you were comfortable.

“do you want to?” his thumb brushes against your cheek, breath mingled and you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him back in and swallowing him whole.

this kiss was soft, tender and gentle. just moments before, it was all desperation and fire, capable of breaking one’s heart.

i love you.

but those three simple words were repeated until that was all you could remember, you started to believe it.

your bodies radiated the same heat, a soft touch turns into a light squeeze and he held you down on the bed —bed, couch? did you leave the party? everything is foggy— growing hotter as his lips move against yours, you close your eyes and hold him close the entire night.

“would you still love me if i was a worm?” that was one way to break the silence, the crunch of orange and yellow leaves. “hell no.” and he responds almost immediately, muffled from the cup before he takes a big drink from his coffee.

“wrong answer! we’re breaking up.”

he chokes, and you slap his back. the tip of his tongue burns, and so did the reddening spot on your cheek he pinches. “hell no!”

you trip over your own two feet as he swings an arm around your neck and traps you in a headlock. katsuki almost drops the cup, ready to give you a piece of his mind but he relents. “take that shit back.”

his arm squeezes tighter, not enough to actually hurt you, but you were definitely trying to get free in case he did take this to the ground, trying to get your posture back.

“katsuki what the hell?!”

“i don’t need both arms, dipstick! take it back!”

fall was supposed to be the season of deep connection. when you were no longer blinded, there was no hiding behind the beauty of spring.

“katsuki, if i said no you probably would have showed up at my house with flowers and abducted me to go to that sushi place anyways.”

“but you said you loved me first, remember?” katsuki didn’t waste a second, stirring the miso dissolving in the saucepan. the sink was piled with dishes, spices lined the counter, the smell of steamed rice filling the kitchen.

you immediately drop the knife on the counter and spin around, eyes on him. it was enough for him to try and fail to stifle a laugh. “why are you laughing?! so what if i say i love you all the time, you said it first.”

the holidays were coming up, and somehow christmas and buying gifts was brought up while making dinner. katsuki wasn’t as excited as you were, claiming there was no way in hell he’d write a fucking christmas list.

“i’d buy you everything.” whether you asked for it or not. “if you don’t get on my nerves.”

maybe he didn’t know what you were thinking, maybe he just wasn’t ready. “ha ha, so funny..” but you smiled anyway.

“would i joke about something like that?” katsuki scoffs, staring right at you when you turn back around. he was annoyed; an open book of emotions when you knew what to look for.

he raises an eyebrow and you walk over, tofu in the palm of your hand and he lets you add it to the miso soup, eyes like a hawk. “well—“

katsuki catches your wrist when you reach to grab his face. “sadistic sense of humor?” the monster inside him fell silent, biting his tongue, and his heart raced as your lips brushed against his cheek.

a heartbeat loud in your ears with a song you never grew tired of. but suddenly it wasn’t just about silly christmas gifts, when you pull away first and let out a deep breath.

“i love you.” those words are too familiar but foreign, katsuki might’ve blushed but he makes an ugly face. that phrase earned a new meaning when you came into the picture, once only spoken by his mother and father.

why did it matter who said it first: katsuki was in love with you, more than he loved anyone in his life. a ring on the small chain around his neck is a symbol of your love, and he would never take it off.

forgive me? it’s a beautiful feeling, something so deep and natural like affinity. sharing breaths and two human beings become one. he was your soulmate, how lucky you are to have him by your side.

“it’s fine, i love you too.” it was hushed, but he said it back a million times over. you couldn’t imagine loving someone else the way you loved bakugo katsuki.

he was a man of action; katsuki never gave romantic speeches.

sharing a bed as you’ve done since you were kids. he wakes up first and sighs when he gives you a kiss before jumping into the shower. how he would spread just enough of your favorite jam onto toast in the morning, and get started with a cup of coffee.

seeing new couples on your walk through the park, kissing on benches. and cringing together before holding hands, “we were like that once, baby.”

when katsuki gets weekly texts from his mother asking how you’ve been, and he tells her to fuck off. though, after a few minutes, he will tell her you’re just fine with him.

when you catch up with mutual old friends over dinner, have a few drinks and you laugh when they poke fun at katsuki. “so happy you two got together! this guy has been crazy about you since high school.” and kaminari squealed when katsuki kicked him underneath the booth table.

when he hears you sneaking up behind him finishing up a big meal, the amused huff and he speaks loudly “dinner is almost ready,” before arms wrap around his waist, hands slipping under. your face hides in his shirt, knowing you should go to set the table.. but in a minute.

“your favorite.” katsuki says again, and you show your thanks with a kiss on the cheek.

though in winter, with bright lights all around and colors that match his eyes, there was no joy. weeks of no contact after a stupid fight, the ignored texts and your friends trying to mend what happened.

the cuts on your hands from pulling on the invisible thread that was slowly coming undone, singed and twisted, holding it together until it hurt too much to risk more.

surprisingly, you two have been chatting with friends and having cups of hot chocolate and enjoying the food. but the cold season came with much difficulty, the denial of oneself to lean into the comfort and stability of familiarities.

the way he’d look at you made it obvious he wanted to talk. your friends aren't paying attention when you slip away together, watching the stars as the sun has long since set. there was mistletoe hanging on the door frame.

“so..” katsuki breaks the peaceful silence, “this is it.” this is how we came to be. you glanced back at him, but he did not look at you.

the sweet, hot spiciness of cinnamon is the smell of christmas, whether it’s in the wine or cookies or eggnog; it was inviting.. you can all but taste it.

“bakugo, we haven’t talked recently and i.. know you’re too stubborn for your own good. you’re still one of my best friends, we’ve shared a lot together. we’re out here because you wanted to talk, so...” it took everything in you to muster up the confidence, but it falters when katsuki laughs.

suddenly you feel embarrassed and small in front of him —the man you gave everything to, but before you could break, he turns and for the first time since you were teenagers, katsuki cries.

“my mom has been up my ass for not doing this sooner, i just— needed to think about the right shit to say but i can’t let you leave here tonight not nothing that i’m sorry.”

the blond tries to wipe his tears, words jumbled up and you have to stop yourself from reaching out. he was vulnerable. if you moved too fast, he could run off and fight the first person he saw or just.. crumble to pieces right here.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” he rasped out. “i know i’m an asshole, i’ve been told my whole life. i should let you go and find someone better but i’m scared out of my mind you’re just going to disappear if i let you walk out and i can’t do this without you, y/n. i want this.”

it slips out so spontaneously you’d almost think he was joking, but you’ve never seen him looking so heartfelt or speaking so genuinely.

“this?” you pretended the red on katsuki’s face was just from the cold, but the emotion flickering in those eyes made you hesitate. “us?”

you feel tears well up again, he sounds so hopeful, and you truly want this too. not once have you ever questioned your worth to katsuki, he cared about you and years of built friendship was proof. still…

“us..” you stood side by side, knowing you will never recover from this, but if you walk away now it will be the occasional twinge in your heart. it was dark out and the sky was clear, stars reflected off the fresh snow, sparkling.

“i’m right here.” you’re willing to share this passion for the short time you have together.

“for how long?” he was questioning himself, and you felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest as he took a step closer, hands shaking. “i’m still yours.”

you would stand here forever with katsuki, shivering from the confessions or late december, you didn’t know. because you get the most dazzling firework for a fleeting second, the firework being in love with him.

katsuki gets nervous but you lean in and close the slight distance, gentle as your lips touch, your nose sits next to his. and his hand lifts to hold your face, so warm it felt as if you could fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you, the contact soaking into your bones.

taste the remnants of chocolate, you felt dizzy and your stomach was doing flips. what he was thinking? did he feel the spark again? it was a feeling better than you ever imagined. when he pulls away after a moment, you wait a second before going in for another.

“i forgot how good you are at kissing,” you say. “i think you stole a year off my life.”

he shakes his head with a smile, eyes still glassy, and you watch as he takes off his jacket, “it’s getting cold, here.” katsuki replies, his voice soft and in a tone only meant for you.

katsuki lays the jacket over your shoulders, taking the lapels and holding it close around his childhood friend.. his first love. you held hands for a while, enjoying the sounds of the party and friends just inside, forgotten.

but as if fate was laughing, you’re snapped back into reality, where you and him aren’t meant to be, when you hear the sliding door open. “hey guys, have you seen the—“

ochako, who is carrying a plate with santa decorated sugar cookies, stops mid sentence. you jumped away despite it being too late, snatching your hands from his. “—christmas cookies…s- sorry!”

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 23/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, fuff

Word Count: 5680

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

As Jensen slowly withdrew from you, a tangible sense of loss swept through you, his warmth and presence receding. The immediate aftermath was a gentle, intimate reminder of your shared moments—his release, evidence of your closeness and intensity, softly spilling from you and marking the sheets beneath. The sensation was both profoundly intimate and startlingly tender, eliciting a shiver that rippled across your skin.

You melted further into him, his arms still encircling you, his touch reassuring and gentle as he sensed your reaction. Jensen's eyes searched yours, softening with affection and a quiet, protective tenderness that made your heart swell. He brushed a kiss against your forehead, a simple, loving gesture that spoke volumes.

"You´re okay?", he whispered, his voice laced with concern and care. It was a soft check-in, a moment of grounding amidst the intensity of your shared passion.

You nodded, feeling a warm glow of contentment despite the slight chill from the exposed air on your damp skin. "I'm more than okay", you murmured back, your voice a contented sigh. His steady presence was comforting, and the depth of your connection felt more profound now, wrapped in the quiet aftermath.

Jensen smiled, a genuine expression that reached his eyes, crinkling them at the corners. He pulled you gently against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace as he let out a deep breath, still slightly ragged from the intensity of your shared moments. You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek, and the sound of his breathing began to slow, matching the calm rhythm of the quiet room.

“You’re wearing me out, baby”, he chuckled softly, his voice full of affection and playful exhaustion. His chest vibrated with the sound, the warmth of his body radiating into yours. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering in the soft strands of your hair as if savoring the closeness.

You smiled against his skin, feeling a peaceful glow wash over you as his words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. The exhaustion in his voice wasn’t one of complaint—it was filled with contentment, a reflection of how deeply the two of you had connected. There was something grounding in the way he held you, as if nothing outside this moment mattered.

“You’re not too tired for me, are you?”, you teased softly, your voice muffled slightly as you nuzzled closer to him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. There was a lightness to your tone, playful yet laced with affection.

Jensen grinned, and you could feel the curve of his lips against your forehead before he kissed it again, softer this time. “Never too tired for you”, he murmured. “But you have to promise not to break me”. His voice was laced with humor, but beneath it, there was a sincerity that spoke of how much he valued these quiet moments with you.

As you nestled closer against him, you whispered softly, “As long as you don’t break my heart”. Your words hung in the air, delicate yet weighty with vulnerability. Jensen’s heart clenched in response. It wasn’t often that you revealed something so raw, something that hinted at the fragility beneath your strength. He knew you as someone strong and self-assured, rarely letting your guard down, and that made your quiet admission all the more powerful.

Jensen’s breath caught for a moment, his chest tightening with a wave of emotion he hadn’t anticipated. He gently lifted your chin with his fingers so he could look into your eyes, his expression softening into something deeply tender. “Hey”, he whispered, his voice hushed but steady, “I would never do that. Not in a million years”.

His thumb brushed along your jawline, his gaze intense with sincerity. The depth of his feelings for you shone clearly in his eyes, and it made your heart skip a beat. He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to yours, the closeness palpable.

"I promise you", Jensen said softly, his voice trembling just slightly with the gravity of his vow. "I’m here for the long haul. You don’t ever have to worry about that". He kissed you again, this time with more weight, more meaning behind it, as if he was trying to imprint the truth of his words into your skin.

You closed your eyes, letting his words and his warmth wash over you, feeling the knot of fear in your chest loosen just a bit. His reassurance, spoken with such conviction, wrapped around your heart like a protective shield.

He held you tighter after that, as if the very thought of hurting you was unbearable to him. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing steadied once more, and the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful calm.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The quiet intimacy that settled between you needed no words—just the silent exchange of trust, affection, and the promise of something deeper.

Jensen finally broke the silence, his voice softer now, like a gentle breeze. "You’re everything to me, you know that?". His tone held no trace of his earlier teasing, just a raw, honest truth that he laid bare for you.

In that moment, the two of you were wrapped in something far more powerful than just passion—there was safety, love, and the shared understanding that whatever lay ahead, you’d face it together.

You took a deep breath, the weight of Jensen’s words settling over you like a warm blanket. The vulnerability you’d shown and the sincerity he’d given in return made the moment feel raw and real, but it also carried a sense of peace that you hadn’t expected. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to sink fully into the comfort of his embrace, feeling his strong arms around you, holding you close as if to protect you from anything the world could throw your way.

His hand continued to stroke your back gently, tracing small, soothing patterns that made you feel even more at ease. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart—a reassuring sound that brought a soft smile to your lips. There, in the quiet of the room, you felt safe. Safe from the doubts and fears that had lingered in your mind, safe from the uncertainties of life, because right here in Jensen’s arms, none of that seemed to matter.

“I love you”, you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the words were filled with all the meaning you hadn’t yet said. You felt him tense for a moment, just enough for you to notice, before he relaxed completely against you.

He tightened his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer as if he could fuse you both into one. “I love you, too”, he whispered back, his voice rough with emotion. “More than you could ever know”.

A soft, contented sigh escaped your lips, and you felt your body melt into his. Everything felt right, as if this was exactly where you were meant to be. No more barriers, no more hesitation—just you and him, tangled together in the warmth of shared love and trust.

Jensen pressed another gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if to seal the moment. The world outside could wait, because right now, there was nothing else but the two of you, wrapped up in each other, both knowing that this was only the beginning of something beautiful and lasting.

As your breathing evened out and sleep began to take over, you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you.

The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You were both still entangled in the warmth of the bed, your limbs heavy with the comfortable laziness that comes after a long night of intimacy and peace. Neither of you had set an alarm, and the world outside seemed distant and unimportant—until the sudden, loud hammering on the door shattered the quiet serenity.

“Jensen!”, Jared’s voice boomed through the door, his heavy knocks relentless. “Dude, you gotta get up! You’re going to be late!”.

You stirred first, blinking against the light as you took in Jared’s words, your heart sinking a little as you processed what he said. You shifted slightly, nudging Jensen, who was still half-asleep beside you, his face peaceful and relaxed.

“Jensen”, you whispered, your voice a mix of urgency and guilt for waking him. “You’ve got to get up. Jared’s at the door, and I think… I think you’re going to be late for the convention”.

Jensen groaned softly, his brows furrowing as reality slowly began to sink in. He blinked his eyes open, the haze of sleep still clinging to him as he registered the situation. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened, and he bolted upright in the bed.

“Shit”, he muttered under his breath, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. He had less than an hour to be at the convention, and the hotel was a 50-minute drive away. “Shit, shit, shit”.

The knocking on the door continued, and Jensen threw the covers off, scrambling to get out of bed.

You quickly pulled on Jensen’s oversized T-shirt from the day before, the fabric soft against your skin, smelling faintly of him. You padded over to the door, your bare feet light on the floor, and as soon as you opened it, Jared barged in with his usual boisterous energy.

“Dude, you don’t have the time to shower!”, Jared yelled toward the closed bathroom door, his voice echoing through the room.

You stepped aside, trying to stifle a laugh as you watched the chaos unfold. Jensen had already slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, the sound of rushing water filling the air despite Jared’s protests.

Jared turned to you, his eyes narrowing as he caught a whiff of the unmistakable scent lingering in the air—warmth, skin, and the unmistakable musk of intimacy. He scrunched his nose dramatically, his eyebrows shooting up in realization. His lips twisted into a wry grin, and he quickly backtracked on his earlier outburst.

“Actually, on second thought…”, Jared said, raising his hands in surrender, “maybe the shower’s not such a bad idea”.

You laughed softly, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, I think he might need it”, you quipped, trying to ignore the faint blush that crept up your cheeks.

Jared gave you a teasing glance, but there was no judgment there—just his usual easygoing humor. He leaned against the back of the couch, folding his arms over his chest as he settled into the role of the begrudging best friend on morning damage control.

“You two really outdid yourselves, huh?”, he teased, his grin widening as he wagged a finger in your direction. “No wonder Ackles overslept. Poor guy never stood a chance”.

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. “Well, you’re not exactly helping him get out of here on time, either”.

Jared chuckled and shrugged. “Hey, I tried. But I guess some things just take priority, huh?”.

The sound of the water shutting off signaled that Jensen had, indeed, opted for a very quick shower. Jared straightened up, clapping his hands together in a mock show of urgency. “Alright, alright. Let’s get him out the door before we’re both banned from every convention for life”.

A moment later, Jensen emerged from the bathroom, still damp but looking more awake, a towel wrapped around his waist as he frantically searched for his clothes.

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Feeling better now?”.

Jensen shot him a look, half-annoyed and half-amused. “I had to rinse off. Trust me, it was necessary”. He quickly started pulling on his clothes, the urgency in his movements palpable as he tried to make up for lost time.

Jared smirked. “Yeah, I bet it was”.

You crossed your arms, watching them banter. It was chaotic, sure, but there was a comfort in the chaos—a feeling of being part of something that felt right, even in moments like this.

Jensen turned to you as he pulled on his jacket, his eyes softening for a brief moment amidst the rush. “I’ll see you later”, he promised, leaning in to kiss you quickly but tenderly. “Thanks for dealing with this madness”.

You smiled up at him. “Good luck. Try not to let Jared distract you too much”.

Jared scoffed as he grabbed Jensen’s phone off the table, tossing it to him. “I’m the one keeping this guy on track. You should be thanking me”.

Jensen laughed, shaking his head as he slipped his shoes on. “Alright, let’s go before we’re both late”.

With one last glance and a smile in your direction, Jensen followed Jared out the door, the two of them heading off to make it to the convention with minutes to spare. As the door clicked shut behind them, you were left with the lingering sense of warmth and contentment that seemed to fill every corner of the room.

As they hurried out of the hotel, Jensen buttoned up the last few buttons of his dress shirt with one hand while simultaneously trying to buckle his belt with the other. His hair was still wet and unruly from the rushed shower, the droplets glistening in the morning sun as they made their way toward the black van parked in front of the hotel.

Jared walked beside him with a grin so wide it was practically impossible to ignore. “Man, you are such a mess this morning”, Jared teased, glancing over at Jensen’s disheveled appearance. “If the fans saw you like this, they’d swear you were just getting out of a rock concert, not heading into a convention”.

Jensen let out a groan as he finally managed to fasten his belt, his fingers fumbling with the last stubborn button on his shirt. “Yeah, well, not all of us have the luxury of rolling out of bed looking like a shampoo commercial”, he shot back, still slightly breathless from the rushed start to his morning.

Jared chuckled as they approached the black van, clearly relishing the opportunity to give Jensen a hard time. “Man, I swear, if we had a camera crew following us right now, the fans would lose it. You, all frazzled and barely dressed, stumbling out of the hotel…".

Jensen rolled his eyes, yanking open the van door and climbing inside. “Don’t give them any ideas. The last thing I need is another set of memes floating around Twitter of me looking like I just crawled out of a ditch”.

Jared grinned as he followed suit, sliding into the seat next to him. “Oh, you know they’d love it. ‘Jensen Ackles: rugged, messy, but still ridiculously handsome.’ It’s all part of the charm, man”.

Jensen scoffed, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a reluctant smile. “Yeah, sure. Nothing says charm like bedhead and barely buttoned clothes”.

As the van pulled away from the curb, the familiar hum of the engine drowned out the morning rush outside. Jared, still grinning like a Cheshire cat, leaned back in his seat and turned to Jensen, his expression full of playful mischief.

"So, how'd you sleep last night?", Jared asked, his tone dripping with implication. His grin widened as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Jensen shot him a warning look but couldn’t fully hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really want to go there?”, he asked, his voice low but teasing. He ran a hand through his still-damp hair, trying to smooth it down somewhat. "Because I don’t think you want the details".

Jared laughed, unfazed by Jensen’s attempt at deflecting. “Oh, I don’t need details”, he quipped, his voice loud enough to earn a glance from the driver. “I think it’s pretty obvious. I’m just asking if you got any actual sleep in between all that… activity”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. “Well, considering I’m currently running on fumes and you had to practically break the door down to wake me up, I’d say… not much”.

Jared snickered, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Yeah, I figured as much. But hey, at least you look like you had a good time. That’s the important part”.

Jensen couldn’t help but laugh at Jared’s relentless teasing, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “You know, you’re way too entertained by this”.

“What can I say?”, Jared shrugged, still grinning. “Seeing you all flustered and rushed—it’s not something that happens every day. I’m just enjoying the rare moment”.

“Yeah, well, you can enjoy it all you want. Just make sure I don’t fall asleep during the panel, alright?”.

Jared laughed again. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you awake. If anything, the fans will do that for me. You know they’re going to be hyped to see you, even if you are still half-asleep and slightly disheveled”.

Jensen chuckled, finally feeling a bit more relaxed as the banter between them settled into something familiar and comfortable. “Alright, alright. Just… no more questions about my sleep, alright?”.

Jared grinned but nodded in agreement, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “Deal. But if you nod off during the panel, I reserve the right to take pictures”.

Jensen groaned dramatically. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”.

“Not a chance”, Jared replied, laughing as he leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms contentedly. “Not a chance”.

With the teasing winding down, the two of them settled into a more comfortable silence, the van steadily making its way toward the convention center. Jensen gazed out the window, his mind already shifting gears as he mentally prepared for the day ahead. Even with the chaos of the morning, there was something grounding in the routine of it all—an unspoken understanding that no matter how rushed or exhausted he felt, once he stepped in front of those fans, everything would fall into place.

After Jensen and Jared left, you let yourself fall back onto the bed, savoring a brief moment of solitude. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the earlier chaos. You sighed, closing your eyes for a brief respite.

However, as you adjusted your position, your bare leg inadvertently brushed against the wet spot on the mattress where Jensen’s cum had dripped. The unexpected sensation made you wince slightly, a mix of discomfort and lingering embarrassment washing over you.

You sat up, grimacing as you wiped your leg with the edge of the bedspread, trying to rid yourself of the sticky feeling.

You sighed, shaking your head as you made your way towards the bathroom, feeling the remnants of the morning's chaos lingering on your skin. The idea of a hot shower was more than appealing; it was necessary. The water would wash away not just the physical mess but also the haze of exhaustion that clung to you after such an eventful night and morning.

As you turned on the water, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror—your reflection a mix of sleepiness and the subtle glow left over from the intimacy shared with Jensen. Despite feeling worn out, there was still a small smile tugging at your lips. It was hard to deny that being with him brought you a deep sense of contentment, even amidst the rush and mess.

The steam from the shower began to fill the bathroom, and you stepped in, letting the hot water cascade over you. Instantly, the tension in your shoulders eased, and you closed your eyes, relishing the soothing warmth. For a few moments, you allowed yourself to simply exist in the quiet, the sound of the water grounding you as you slowly began to feel more human again.

As you lathered up, your mind wandered to the ticket Jensen had left for you—the front row seat at the convention. He’d been so thoughtful to arrange it, as always, making sure you’d be right there to support him and experience the excitement of the event. But as you rinsed the shampoo from your hair, you couldn’t help but feel a bit torn. After the whirlwind of last night and this morning, you weren’t sure if you had the energy to make it through a day of panels, photo ops, and fan meet-and-greets.

Part of you just wanted to crawl back into bed after the shower, wrap yourself in the blankets, and take a long nap to catch up on the sleep you’d missed. But another part of you didn’t want to let Jensen down. You knew how much he valued your presence there, and how much it meant to him to look out into the crowd and see you smiling back at him.

As you stood under the steady stream of water, you took a deep breath, letting the decision settle in your mind. Maybe you could do both—attend the convention for a while, show your support, and then slip away when you needed a break. It didn’t have to be all or nothing, and Jensen would understand if you decided to take care of yourself first.

You turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, feeling refreshed and more clear-headed. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you caught another glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. This time, you looked a little more awake, a little more like yourself.

With a soft smile, you dried off and began to get dressed, feeling ready to face the day—whether that meant a full day at the convention or just a few hours of showing your support. Either way, you knew Jensen would appreciate whatever time you could give, and that thought alone was enough to give you a bit more energy.

In the green room backstage at the convention center, Jensen sat in a chair, his assistant fussing over his now-dried, but still slightly unruly hair. She worked quickly, trying to tame the wild strands into something presentable, using a brush and a small amount of product to smooth down the ends. Jensen sat patiently, though his expression was somewhere between amused and exasperated.

Jared, of course, found the entire situation endlessly entertaining. He sat across the room, leaning back on a couch with a grin plastered on his face, his arms crossed casually over his chest as he watched the scene unfold.

“Man, you’re lucky she’s a miracle worker”, Jared teased, nodding towards the assistant as she meticulously styled Jensen’s hair. “Otherwise, you’d be going out there looking like you just rolled out of a hurricane”.

Jensen shot him a mock glare. “You’re hilarious, you know that?”, he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm, though there was a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Before Jared could come up with another retort, Jeffrey strolled into the room, a cup of coffee in hand and a curious look on his face. He raised an eyebrow as he took in the scene—Jensen sitting in the chair, his assistant diligently working on his hair, and Jared chuckling to himself like he’d just won the lottery.

“What the hell happened to you, Ackles?”, Jeffrey asked with a smirk, nodding toward Jensen’s hair, which was still in the process of being tamed.

Jensen sighed, shaking his head as he tried to shift in his chair without disrupting his assistant’s work. “Long story”, he muttered, clearly not wanting to dive into the details in front of Jeffrey, especially not with Jared still lurking, waiting to pounce on every opportunity to tease.

Jeffrey grinned, taking a slow sip of his coffee as he leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. “Must’ve been a real long night to end up looking like that”, he said with a playful glint in his eyes. “Don’t think I’ve seen you this roughed up since season two”.

Jared couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. “Oh, trust me, Jeff, it was a night to remember. But let’s just say it wasn’t because of stunts or late-night script readings”.

Jensen groaned as Jared continued to fuel the teasing fire. “You guys are the worst”, he said, though there was no real heat in his voice. He was used to this kind of ribbing, and despite his feigned annoyance, there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of it all.

“Alright, alright”, Jeffrey said, chuckling as he crossed the room and clapped Jensen on the shoulder. “Just messing with you. But seriously, you good? You look like you could use a nap more than a panel”.

Jensen flashed a quick, tired smile as his assistant finished up with his hair, giving her an appreciative nod before she stepped back, satisfied with her work. “I’m good, I swear”, he said, standing up and straightening his shirt. “Just had a bit of a… late start”.

“Late start?”, Jared chimed in with another smirk. “More like you had zero start. You were still passed out when I came banging on your door”.

"Danneel here or what?".

Jensen tensed slightly at Jeffrey’s question, a fleeting moment of hesitation flashing across his face before he quickly masked it with a casual shrug. “Nah, Danneel’s back home with the kids”, he said smoothly, though there was a subtle edge to his voice that only those who knew him well would catch. He glanced at Jared, silently pleading with him to steer the conversation in another direction.

Jeffrey, oblivious to the shift in the atmosphere, chuckled and took another sip of his coffee. “Well, whatever it was, you look like you’ve been through the wringer. Maybe I’ll let you take the lead on stage today, give you a chance to wake up”.

Jensen let out a short laugh, grateful for the change in subject. “Yeah, we’ll see how that goes. Just don’t leave me hanging out there, alright?”.

“Wouldn’t dream of it”, Jeffrey said with a grin, clapping him on the back again before stepping aside as another assistant signaled that they were needed on stage soon.

As Jensen adjusted his jacket one last time, his mind wandered briefly back to the events of the morning and the night before. His thoughts were still on you, the warmth of your shared moments lingering in the back of his mind even as the chaos of the convention loomed ahead.

“Ready?”, Jared asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Jensen nodded, offering a small smile. “Yeah, let’s do this”.

The three of them moved towards the stage entrance, their banter continuing as the noise of the excited crowd grew louder. Jensen took a deep breath, shaking off the last remnants of sleep and preparing to step into the spotlight.

As you and Jensen checked into the hotel room in Orlando, a sense of calm and contentment settled over you. The last three weeks had been nothing short of perfect—filled with quiet moments, stolen glances, and the kind of intimacy that came from truly being in sync with one another. Though staying hidden hadn’t always been easy, the connection you and Jensen had forged was well worth the occasional stress.

Jensen set both your suitcases to the side and, without missing a beat, stepped behind you. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. His embrace was warm and reassuring, his chest pressing gently against your back as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Finally”, he murmured softly, his breath warm against your neck. “Just you and me for the night”.

You smiled, leaning into his touch as your body relaxed against his. His presence felt grounding, like a safe harbor after the whirlwind of the past few weeks. The conventions had been exhilarating but also exhausting, with every public appearance requiring careful discretion to keep your relationship under wraps. But in moments like this—just the two of you—it all felt so right, so effortless.

Jensen tightened his hold on you slightly, his lips brushing against the side of your neck in a soft, lingering kiss. “I’ve missed this”, he whispered. “Having you all to myself”.

You let out a small laugh, the sound light and happy. “We’ve been together almost every day for the past three weeks”, you pointed out, turning your head slightly to look at him with a playful smile.

Jensen hummed softly against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he murmured, “Twelve hours… twelve long hours of traveling without being able to kiss you”. His voice was a low, raspy whisper, filled with a playful frustration. “Do you have any idea how hard that was?”.

You chuckled softly, your smile widening as you leaned back into his chest, enjoying the feel of his arms around you. “You survived, didn’t you?”, you teased, your fingers lightly tracing his forearm as you tilted your head to give him better access to your neck.

“Barely”, Jensen replied with a smirk, his hands slipping down to rest on your hips as he pressed another soft kiss against the curve of your neck, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the contact. “But now I’m making up for lost time”.

His words sent a warm shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but smile at the gentle way he held you, his breath hot against your skin. The connection between you two had only grown deeper over the past few weeks, and moments like this—where the rest of the world faded away—made everything worth it.

Jensen’s kisses grew more deliberate, his lips tracing slow, tender lines across your neck and shoulder. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”, he whispered between kisses, his voice thick with affection and desire. “Being so close to you all day and not being able to touch you… it’s torture”.

You laughed softly, your heart swelling with warmth at his words. “I guess we’ve gotten pretty good at sneaking around”, you replied playfully, your hands sliding up to rest over his.

Jensen grinned against your skin, pulling you even closer. “Yeah”, he murmured, his tone growing more serious as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “But I’m tired of sneaking. I want more of this… more of us”.

His confession hung in the air, and you felt your breath catch for a moment.

You leaned back just enough to catch his eyes, your heart heavy with the unspoken weight of his confession. “You know it’s not on me”, you whispered gently, your voice tinged with a quiet sadness. Jensen’s arms tightened slightly around you as your whispered words hung in the air.

Jensen’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his thumb brushing gently over your hip in a soothing motion. For a moment, the room was filled with silence, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more a reflection of the difficult circumstances that had kept you both tiptoeing around each other for weeks.

Little did you know, just a week ago, Jensen had signed the divorce papers his lawyer had prepared. It was a quiet, reflective moment for him—one he hadn’t yet found the words to share with you. The papers had been sent to Danneel, setting in motion a decision that had been long in the making but still weighed heavily on him.

Jensen’s mind flickered back to that moment. It had taken him time to come to terms with it all, but he had finally taken the step forward. Now, being here with you, holding you close, he felt a mix of relief and guilt. He wanted to tell you everything, but the timing never seemed right. He wanted to make sure he was certain, that the path he was choosing was the right one for everyone involved—not just for him, but for his kids, too.

“I know”, Jensen finally said softly, his voice gentle but determined as he looked into your eyes. He swallowed, trying to find the right words. “But I’m working on it. I promise”.

There was a flicker of something in his gaze—something you couldn’t quite place, but it reassured you. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and though you didn’t know the full scope of what he meant, you trusted him. You had to.

Your hand reached up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I’m here”, you said quietly. “Whenever you’re ready… I’m here”.

Jensen’s lips curved into a soft smile as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closing for a moment as he breathed you in, grounding himself in your presence. “I know”, he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “And that’s what keeps me going”.

He kissed you then, slow and deep, like he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into that single moment.

The rest of the evening was spent in a cocoon of intimacy and connection. You and Jensen lost yourselves in each other, the hotel room becoming a private sanctuary where nothing else mattered.

———————————

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

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Part 24

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[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Can't Loose You Too

Request: okay hear me out please 🤞 what if the reader got captured by the grounders and bellamy freaks out but their not like a thing yet so like friends to loverss(ish) and he gets them back and spills his feelings cause he’s scared he could lose them 🤷🏻‍♀️ if you don’t have time or just don’t wanna write this do not feel pressured to at all 💕💕 - @ravenmedows

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: So I wrote this to be set in between S1 and S2. I feel like it just fit the best because relationships were established. I also wrote in Bellamy's POV, to help show Bellamy's emotions and his side. Although it's more like a 3rd person view. I hope you enjoy reading!

You’re assigned to go patrol and hunt around Arkadia, even though it was your least favorite assignment. It was more bearable by the fact that you’d be doing it with your friends. While most of the adults didn’t want you guys to exactly pursue Clarke, you guys had used patroling as an excuse to get any information you could. 

You head to the garage to find and meet up with everyone,”Hey, where are we headed this time?” You ask walking up to Bellamy.

“Sector 7,” He responds.

“Again? We should try looking somewhere else,” You say, knowing that you’ve had no luck in that sector.

“Sector 7 is our best chance. Besides that’s where we were assigned,” Bellamy says sternly.

“Fine,” You respond and head outside.

“Where’s she going?” Monty asks as you walk off. You head towards the horse stables and find Octavia getting her horse ready to head out.

“Don’t wanna ride in the Rover?” Octavia asks as you head to tend to your horse, Archer.

“You know I prefer to ride on the back of a horse,” You chuckle. 

You gather everything else that you need, water, your knives, and a bow and arrows. You and Octavia head out and meet everyone else at the front of the garage. Once it looked like they were ready you all ride out to Sector 7. You all make it to the edge of the forest, you stop and tie Archer up to the Rover.

“Alright everyone, you know the drill. Stay in pairs, don’t stray too far from the group, and radio if you find anything suspicious,” Bellamy says. You stick with Octavia and all head into the forest.

It seemed pretty quiet for the first few moments, until you heard a hog in the distance. You signal Octavia to let her know where you were going. After a few feet you see the hog in your view. You prepare your arrow and aim. As soon as you release your arrow, you felt a stinging pain in the back of your thigh. You felt the area and it wasa knife lodge into your leg. Before you could process anything else, you feel yourself picked up by someone on a horse. At first you thought it was Octavia but as soon as you looked up, it was a grounder.  You scream out trying to warn your friends, knowing there was more grounders around.

~ Bellamy’s POV ~

As Bellamy was looking around for anything to hunt, he hears a scream in the distance. Somehow he immediately knew that it was Y/N. He and everyone else, ran towards the scream, not caring that there may be more danger in the area. Soon enough Y/N with a grounder on the back of a horse, came into view. He started to run faster towards them as a horn warning was blown. But he didn’t stop until Octavia started to pull him away.

“Stop struggling,” Octavia strains trying to keep a hold onto her brother.

“We have to help them,” Bellamy yells.

“We can’t help them if we’re dead,” Monty says, jumping in to help Octavia and pull Bellamy to safety. They weren’t sure what the horn was blown for, since the acid fog was disabled, but it couldn’t have been good.  Soon enough it sounded like there were even more grounders out in the forest.

~ Y/N’s POV ~

You started to fade from the loss of blood, but the sound of a horn woke you up again. The grounder starts to ride faster until you got to an enclosed cave. They dismounted their horse and set you on the ground. You stayed silent and still not knowing what would happen next.  They took you off of the horse and set you on the ground. Next, they took the knife out of your leg, wrapped the wound up and bounded your hands. You could hear what sounded like a thousand footsteps and hooves outside the cave.

A few hours went by and your were suddenly woken up by a group of grounders making their way into the cave. At first they were communicating in Trig only, where you could only pick out a few phrases. “Did Azgeda hear or see you?” You pick out from the conversation between the grounders. 

“What’s your name, sky person?” One of the grounders then asked, you stayed silent. They asked once more, but you stayed silent again. Frustrated they gag you and put a bag over your head. Your body is then lifted and put onto a horse. 

What feels like a couple hours go by and you finally slow down to a stop. You were picked up once more and plopped onto the ground. The bag was taken off your head and you were greeted by the bright sunlight and a metal door slamming. A few more grueling hours went by until someone finally came and brought you food. 

They shoved it under the door and pulled up a chair. You didn’t touch the food and the grounder took notice, “Eat,” He says. You refused to take food from them, didn’t want to risk  being poisened. “What’s your name?” He asks next.

You kept your mouth shut, not wanting to give them anything. You weren’t exactly sure why grounders would be aggressive towards you and your people again, it seemed like Clarke had made sure that they wouldn’t be a nuisance again.

~ Bellamy’s POV ~ 

The whole ride back to Arkadia was completely silent. Bellamy couldn’t help but think of how he lost Clarke but also you now. Once the rover had pulled into the garage, Bellmay immediately got out.

“Where are you going?” Monty asks. Bellamy doesn’t respond and keeps walking away. Octavia follows after her brother into the map room.

“Bell…Hey Bell?” Octavia asks trying to get her brothers attention. He ignores Octavia and looks at the map to see where Y/N could’ve possibly been taken. “Bellamy?!” Ocatavia says once more pulling the rolling board away from him.

“What?!” Bellamy responds angrily.

“Slow down,” Octavia tells her brother.

“I can’t. Not while Y/N is out there,” Bellamy says.

“You can for a moment. Y/N is strong they’ll be ok until we can find them. Let’s just rest and figure a game plan. Not rush into things,” Octavia logically explains to Bellamy.

“What other grounder clans were we close by?” Bellamy says completely ignoring his sister.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Octavia questions.

“Look Octavia. Clarke is out god knows where and now Y/N has been kidnapped by grounders.  I can’t just sit here and do nothing. We need to find them before anything bad happens,” Bellamy says walking back over to the map board. 

“I’m not saying we do nothing. I’m just saying that we slow down and figure out the best plan of action instead of rushing into things,” Octavia says.

“You’re right. I’m just– just worried about them,” Bellamy sighs.

“I am too. Let’s go get some food and chat with the others,” Octavia leads Bellamy to the mess hall.

~ Y/N’S POV ~

It’s day two since you’d been captured. You hadn’t eaten a thing or given up any information. In fact you hadn’t talked at all. They just kept asking for your name and what you knew about Wanheda. You had no clue who in the hell Wanheda was. 

“Eat,” The man says bringing you more food and taking the old food out. After a few minutes another man comes barreling in, he says something in Trig that you couldn’t understand before coming up to the bars.

“You’re not gonna talk, huh?” the man says before opening the door and yanks you out of the cell. You’re pulled over to a pole and have your hands bound around it.

“Where is Wanheda?” The man asks. You stay silent. Next thing you know you feel a punch to your stomach. The man asks the same question over and over again, with the same result, no words and some form punishment.

The man still received no answers from you by the time to sun set. They left you bound to the pole, you guess so that they can try to get answers out of you tomorrow. You still couldn’t imagine why they’d think you know something about someone named Wanheda.

~Bellamy’s POV~

It had been a long past two days inspecting the maps and going out to scout for Y/N. Bellamy has gotten barely any sleep. He’s at a loss of where Y/N could possibly be.

“Bellamy you need to sleep,” Octavia says.

“No,  I’m close. There’s only so many places left that Y/N could be,” Bellamy says, blinking his eyes to stay awake.

“I’ll sort the areas. Go get some sleep. If we want to find them, I need you at 100%,” Octavia scoots her brother out of his chair.

“Fine, but were going out first thing in the morning,” Bellamy says exiting the room.

The next morning Bellamy finds Octavia passed out at the desk, “Hey, how long were you up?” Bellamy asked his sister.

“Oh hey, uhhh I’m not sure. But I think I’ve figured out where Y/N might be,” Octavia says.

“Where?” Bellamy asks excitedly.

“Well, I remembered that Lincoln told me about this small village that was just outside of Trikru’s territory. They kind of outcasted themselves, not super friendly to outsiders,” Octavia explains.

“Let’s head out,” Bellamy says and goes to gather everyone. As everyone begins to head out they notice a group of people standing at the gate. Of course it was none other than Kane, Abby and a few other adults.

“Where are you going?” Kane asks the group.

“To find Y/N,” Bellamy answers.

“We think you’ve all spent enough time. I think it’s time we handle this before one of you is also taken or hurt,” Kane responds back.

“We know where they are, we can get them,” Bellamy fought back.

“Go back to your jobs,” Kane says in response. 

At first no one budged until Abby spoke up, “Now, unless you all want citations.”  

“Bellamy,” Kane stops him before he could get too far. “Show me where you think Y/N is,” Kane says walking with Bellamy to the map room.

About an hour went by and it had looked like the adults had taken a group out to find Y/N. After another hour or so, the group gathered and snuck out to really find Y/N. As Bellamy had directed Kane’s people in the opposite direction.

~ Y/N’s POV ~ 

The next day you were so weak front being forced to stand up. To your surprise you were woken up by someone tipping a cup of water to your mouth. Next they fed you some fruit, you tried to resist but they kept pressing the fruit to your mouth.

“You ready to give us some answers?” The man from yesterday asked. Again you kept your mouth shut. A few more hours of interrogation go by, but this time the man keeps his hands to himself. As if he was trying to give you a break.

“Someones here for you,” A woman says to the man after a few hours go by. The man reluctantly leaves the area to investigate. 

You stand there with weak legs trying to keep your body up. As you were about to pass out you feel gentle hands touch your cheeks. You flutter your eyes open and see a worried Octavia inspecting you. She quickly moves to unbound your hands, as soon as you’re unbound, your body just buckles underneath you. Before you hit the ground your body is lifted, you look up and see a just as worried Bellamy. 

“We need to get them back to camp quickly. They’ve lost a lot of blood and are weak,” Octavia says hastily. 

Ater a long trek back to Arkadia, you can see that you’re being greeted with a group of adults from inside the gates, “Told you we could find her,” Bellamy says walking past Abby and Kane.

“Take her to medical,” Abby says quickly noticing your condition. Bellamy gently walks you to medical and lays on top of a gurney. Abby comes to inspect your injuries, “Everyone out,” Abby orders your friends to leave. At first you could see they were reluctant before Abby begins to shuffle them out.

~ Bellamy’s POV ~

Bellamy waits anxiously from outside medical. After a few hours go by, he couldn’t wait any longer and decides to make his way into the ward. Abby greets him before he could make his way through the door.

“I figured you’d be anxious to see how she is,” Abby says stopping him.

“H–How is she?” He struggles to get out.

“They’ve sustained a lot of injuries, are dehydrated and lost quite a bit of blood. But they should be ok. But they can’t leave the ward for at least a day or two, I’d like to keep an eye on them. After that they should stay inside Arkadia,” Abby tells Bellamy. 

“Can I see them?” Bellamy asks.

“They’re asleep and needs to rest. Maybe tomorrow,” Abby tells Bellamy and points him to the exit. 

~ Y/N’s POV ~

You blink your eyes open and blinded by the brighter lights of the room. You lift your head and look around. Landing your eyes on a Bellamy sitting in a chair with his eyes closed. As you make a bit more noise by sitting up, Bellamy opens his eyes and moves to the cot. 

“Hey,” Bellamy speaks softly.

“Hey,” You say even quieter as if you had lost your voice. “How long was I asleep for?” You ask.

“About 10 hours,” Bellay answers, surprising you at the long length of time. “How are you doing?” Bellamy asks. 

Before you could respond, you see a mob of your friends approaching you. Each of them asking how you are and if you need anything. Soon enough Abby shuffles her way in, “Everyone out, she still needs to rest,” Abby says gently leading each of your friends out.

“How are you feeling?” Abby says approaching you as the last one leaves.

“Still tired and weak, but otherwise fine,” You say.

“Good, I’ll run some final tests and then you should be good to go,” Abby says. You spend the next hour with Abby inspecting your physical condition and asking you to do various tasks. “You’ve cleared all the tests. Although I still want you to take it easy, until you feel 100%. So that means no physically taxing work and staying inside Arkadia,” Abby tells you.

You were about to walk off until you realized that Abby wanted you to acknowledge her orders, “Ok,” you respond still trying to find your voice.

You head out of the ward and go to the mess hall, finding yourself very hungry after refusing food for several days. You try to find a quiet corner to eat but Monty had approached you. And you felt bad refusing to sit with him since you knew that your friends wanted to know you were ok. More of your friends slowly joined your table and soon enough it was a bit overwhelming. You get up and it seemed that everyone had noticed.

“Where are you going?” Jasper asks.

“I just wanted to go lay down for a bit,” You respond.

“Why don’t I walk you,” Jasper offers getting up from his seat.

“It’s ok. Thank though,” You say and walk off before anyone else could say anything.

The next day you went to go help out around Arkadia, sticking to the lowest impact type of work. Every few hours it seemed like one of your friends had something to say about resting or asking to help. It became to much and you didn’t like how they were trying to baby you. They knew that you know your limits, so you weren’t sure why they were being such helicopter friends. Once you were able to get away from your friends prying eyes, you head to the stables. You walk into Archer’s stable to see your horse for the first time since you were back. 

“Hey, I’m home, safe,” You say to comfort Archer.

You sat quietly with Archer until you hear soft footsteps approach, “I’m fine,” You say sternly as you hear the footsteps stop at the front of Archer’s stable, standing up as if you were about to leave. “Sorry,” You apologize looking up to see Bellamy. The one person who hasn’t been bothering you all day.

“It’s ok. I was just coming to check on Archer. But since you’re here, how are you feeling?” He asks walking into the stable.

“Fine,” you quickly answer.

“You sure?” He asks, clearly picking up on your attitude and moving closer to you.

You sigh heavily, “No. Everyone just keeps checking on me. I appreciate it but I’m feeling babied. I just want to rest and get back to 100% as soon as possible. They’re just stressing me out,” You admit.

“They just don’t want you to get hurt…anymore. Make sure that you’re recovering quickly, “ Bellamy advocates for your friends.

“I know but it just kinda feels suffocating,” You confess.

“I’ll let them know to back off a little,” Bellamy says, knowing that you’d appreciate that.

“Thanks, and for checking on Archer,” You say letting out a small smile.

A few hours later you were getting ready to sleep for the night. As you were just about to get in bed to relax, there’s a knock at your door. You open it and are greeted by Bellamy.

“Hey, what’s up?” You ask letting him in.

“I just wanted to check on you. I know what you said earlier, but I figured that I’d still make sure you were ok after your first full day back,” Bellamy says. You picked up the slightest quiver in his voice, leading you to believe that there was more.

“I'm feeling better. Thanks for talking to everyone,” You smile.

“Good,” Bellamy says awkwardly. He was about to walk out but stops himself, “Actually I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to earlier but I figured you needed your space,” Bellamy says referring to your hiding spot.

“What is it?” You ask curiously. 

“I’m sorry it took three days to find you. And that you went through all of that pain. I’m sorry that you were taken in the first place, it was my fault, I should’ve been more vigilant. And I’m sorry that I didn’t come see you sooner,” Bellamy lets out. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fact that he was blaming himself for what happened, blaming himself for the pain that was inflicted on you.

“Hey, hey, hey. None of this was your fault. You couldn’t have know that there were grounders there. You weren’t expected to know exactly where I was. What really matters is that you didn’t give up, you worked your ass off to find me, now I’m safe and home,” You say and find yourself swinging your arms over his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug. He seemed to have settled himself into your  body, as if he could finally relax. 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you too,” Bellamy confesses. 

You don’t respond to what Bellamy says, but pull out of your hug after a few minutes, finally taking a look at his face, “You look tired. Is it really true what Octavia told me? That you didn’t really sleep for the whole three days?” You ask as you can read how tired he is. He lightly nods his head, not wanting to admit it. 

You settle yourself into your bed, tired from standing so long, “ I just wanted to find you before anything bad happened,” Bellamy says, laying his body next to yours.

“That deosn’t mean that you had to put your own health at risk,” You say turning your body to face him. 

“I know, but I just needed you back. I missed you,” He softly speaks turning his head to face you.

“I missed you too,” You move to rest your head on his chest.

The next morning you wake up and turn over to find a peacefully sleeping Bellamy. You had almost forgotten that he never left. But you didn’t mind, it comforted you knowing that he stayed, “Morning,” You say softly after kissing his forehead to wake him up.

“Morning,” He says raspily with a smile forming.

[fan-goddess]

The decay of marital flesh

Authors Note: This has taken months to complete, and I am so happy that people have taken time to ask me about this and have wanted to have a part two of my original oneshot that I didn’t know would get so popular. So here’s the depressive thing that took me months to compete cause I needed to be in an angsty mood to write. Here’s my blood and angst

Summary: A part two of this piece here. This is the depressing version of it and the other happy part will be linked to this part here.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of f oral, self harm, blood, kinslaying, cheating on partner (I’ve probably no doubt missed warnings so if you see any you think I should add then let me know!)

Taglist: @ietss, @papichulo120627, @rorawinters, @introverbatim, @alicentswife, @brie-annwyl, @victoriagaunt, @kyla44, @pax-2735, @omgbcat @bellameshipper, @coolsiaisaqueenstuff, @snh96, @devils-blackrose, @blue-serendipity, @dahlias-and-marigolds, @glame, @jennifer0305, @humanpurposes, @valeskafics, @aemondwhoresworld @leiakim99

Whenever you slept, somehow the weight of the letter always found a way to haunt you. Whenever your hand managed to sweep under and made direct contact with the paper, it practically burned to the touch with no explanation how.

Klarissa had soon became one of your trusted, friends? She would come into your chambers to place your food in the morn and look at you intently and with questions she herself knew would remain unanswered. You never spoke to her again of the contents of the original letter, nor did she ever thankfully attempt to ever bring it up. It was thing about her you found yourself grateful for.

Though it seemed Klarissas silence on the topic may soon be broken. As recently, more letters, similar to the original, were beginning to make themselves known to you.

Though this time, you cannot bring yourself to read them. You can only stare at them while they burn into nothing in your fireplace. You can only watch as whatever words and meaning they once possessed become ash and soot. Maybe they were letters asking for forgiveness? Or asking for a conference where he begged for you to not spill his blood just as you instructed him that you would? Either way, you held firm belief that nothing of that sort would be happening.

Not while Aemond continued to breathe, and to live.

Aemond does not believe that you are reading any of his letters any more. The maid who had given to you his first letter, whose eyes once held fear of his position, now hold only sympathy and sadness. She doesn’t need to say what he had been fearing. It’s written plain and clearly all over her face.

Still, he can’t help but wish to cry at the realisation, even though he knew it would happen some time or later. An act he does not even think he’s done since he was robbed of his eye. Yet his sudden loss of you, the one person who he should have protected and been with, brings to him more emotion throughout his entire body than he’s felt in his entire life. Even when his sorrow begins to spread through out him, throughout his soul, the tears do not fall. He cannot dare let them. He cannot appear weak in front of the court. He cannot dare appear to be weak in front of you.

His chambers seem all too empty when he enters them. The bed appears stiff and uninviting. The books appear meaningless and empty. Even the fire seems too cold. Even when he begins edging closer and closer to the flames until he’s practically face to face with them.

“Aemond, what are you doing?!” His mothers frantic voice breaks him from his trance before he could fully put his arm in the fire. Only hearing the sudden frantic sound of his mother’s voice does he begin feeling the heat of the flames against his skin. It’s an addictive feeling, as for the first time in months he feels alive. It feels like your fiery touch is caressing him again.

“It does not matter mother… why are you here?” Aemond curtly says, begrudgingly stepping away from the flames to look at her with a soulless eye.

“Aemond, my son, I’m afraid that the court are beginning to talk. They question your marriage, they question your-“

“I do not care about what the people question mother!” Aemond shouts. Raw emotion and anger overflowing from his skin in waves as he stalks to his mother and grips her arms roughly in emphasis of his frustration. He can feel his unkempt nails digging into her arms, and he can even see the slight fear that slowly envelopes her. Yet still, he does not relent on his hold of her, even when she tries to escape from him. “The people do not know how it is I have suffered! How much my wife has suffered! I will not have those insufferable cunts dictating things about my own marriage!”

His nails unknowingly leave small dents in his mother’s arms. His nails which have grown long from neglect begin to draw into her skin so deeply that even with the clothing between the two, he nearly manages draws blood. It’s not even until she begins to wince and voice her pain does Aemond notice what he’s doing to her. What he’s doing to his own mother.

“M-mother I-“

“Save it Aemond. I know you are mourning in your own way. I know that your wife is mourning. She is mourning my son because it was you who betrayed the scared vows the two of you spoke together, and insisted that you drew blood for. It is well within her right to burst down these doors and draw that same blood from you with her own blade. I will not let you drag that girl down with you my son, just because you wish to cling to a long rotted away life that you yourself threw away, all for a fucking bastard wet nurse belonging to house strong!”

Aemond does not move when his mother shouts as him. He does not even blink when his mother’s passionate anger leaves small spit trails on his face. For everything she just said is true. It was him who broke the scared marital bond between him and you. For that, he should suffer no less than a thousand cuts.

Aemonds single eye goes back to the fire where he had sat earlier, and goes to sit there once more. Once again, he does not truly feel the heat it should be providing him. He adds a couple loose logs in the fire, prodding them around slightly with an iron poker.

Aemond drops it though when a log jolts suddenly and startles him, and hisses when the red hot poker makes contact with his upper thigh, burning him. Though he cannot deny the slight satisfaction it brings him to feel the pain flare through his clothes. So he strips himself till he is only in his underclothes, and he does it again, and again. Hissing under his breath each time it makes contact with the pale skin. Maybe this is how he will get closer to you? How he will successfully manage to feel the pain that you felt when you had to push the physical manifestation of his betrayal curse you? He knows it is unlike anything he could ever truly experience, but he has to try. For you, and for the baby he will never meet.

When you begin burning the next letter in the fire, adjusting it slightly with the poker hanging on the side of the fireplace, you can hear an unknown person entering the room with an audible creak coming from the direction of the door. Klarissa had slyly mentioned a few days previous how it was like that due to your infrequent comings and goings. If you didn’t know her name and respect her slightly, you probably would’ve had her relocated immediately for such cheek.

“I think my brother takes great time and thought into writing those letters princess.” A distinctive voice and nickname causes a rare smile to form, still looking at the fire before you.

“Good. Then maybe he’ll learn to be sorry and he’ll learn what my pain was like.” Your voice is surprisingly cold, even with such a warm smile on your lips. It even surprises yourself slightly.

“Well, as much as I do appreciate your determination for damning my brother, I don’t think he’ll share that same sentiment. Do you even read them? Or do you just immediately condemn them to ash? Because I’d hate to think some poor soul like my mother writes a letter to you only to have it thrown to the flames…”

“I’m not that overcome with anger, my prince. I do look at the handwriting of the letters before I, as you so plainly put it, condemn them to ash.” It’s almost annoying how easy it is for Aegon to make you smile. He’s become the light to shine you through your dark ages. A friend amongst the snakes and the thorns that weave and poison the court, looking only in ways to further their power.

“How many times have I told you sweet princess to call me Aegon? I think after everything we’ve done and been through together, we’d have been properly acquainted with each others company. As much as my little brother utterly detests the very idea of it.” Aegon now sits beside you at the fire, his everything already making your tensed frame ease into a more calm and relaxed one. He does not make any move to stop you from making sure the letter is properly burned into nothingness. An act you appreciate immensely.

“My brother, was a fool to believe he needed someone else to comfort him...”

The quick comment is also quickly followed by a deathly sort of silence in the room. The only thing being able to penetrate it being the comforting sound of the crackling flames.

Though not a few minutes after, from the corner of your eye, you can spot Aegons hand slowly and cautiously placing itself on your arm, drawing your attention to him as you cautiously drop the poker and turn to him. His face looks like the one of a deer when it’s caught in a trap, fear and panic. Though by the way he had approached you, it was as if he was trying to approach an unpredictable creature from the forest. A beast.

“Can I be so bold princess, as to say something to you?” His voice is practically one of a whisper. So meek that you didn’t know if you had heard him correctly the first time.

“Of course Aegon? You are my closest confidant.” Your words though, supposed to be ones of comfort, makes Aegons lips turn in a slight grimace. Yet still, he wets his lips before speaking.

“You… are everything any man I think could ever need in a wide. Which is why i am so disappointed in him. Why take that bastard into his bed, when he could have had you…” Aegon then cautiously leads his head forward and captures your open mouth with his own.

You cannot move. You cannot think. You cannot say anything to stop what is going on in that moment. There is only one thing that races specifically through your head however. One question that stands out from the rest.

Do you even want Aegon, your husbands brother, to stop?

In your confusion, you find yourself unable to move a muscle. Only it seems Aegon mistakes your lack of action and your confusion as a direct answer. Since his once shy hands move with a surprising confidence from your arm, to delicately cupping at your cheek and your head.

You cannot deny that the kiss did not leave a warm feeling erupting in your chest, and a fluttering sensation to churn in your heart. Yet there is one other thing you can think off while this is happening. You can only ponder on how strange it truly feels to kiss another man other than your husband. How strange it is to betray your marriage like he had done.

When Aegon finally breaks away from you, you can see that his eyes have grown dark with presumably desire. Yet unlike other men, he makes no move to direct you to the nearest bed like you would expect him to do. Instead, it looks as if his eyes have softened as they look into your own. A strange kind of peace drifting over him that you’d never really seen on him, nor even on another person before.

“Why did you do that…” You mutter, watching the way the flames make his skin look almost golden in the light.

His eyes though still hold that same strange look of softness, and his hand begin to stroke at your cheek with a strange type of fondness.

“Because I’ve been wanting to do it for quite some time now.”

It’s so simple. Spoken so calmly with a careless shrug, that it’s almost as if it was the easiest thing Aegons ever said in his life, and yet it causes an immediate feeling of panic and terror to erupt deep within your chest.

Your head moves your body in such a hurry that you had almost toppled over, if Aegon had not clutched at you so quickly to keep you steady. Yet at the feeling of his practically burning hands on your bare skin you push away from him.

Your head races with the discovery of Aegons… desires? Feelings even? Whatever they are, they’re something you never would’ve known about if not for Aemonds betrayal to his vows.

You know you should be angry at Aegon for what he has done. Angry at yourself even for not immediately pushing him off of you, a still married woman. And yet, when he kissed you, you felt more alive and happy then you’ve felt since Aemonds betrayal.

Even as you pace the room, Aegons keen eyes watch you with concern and slight anticipation at your next move. Like a dog always waiting for it’s masters command. He doesn’t move from the spot he originally sat in, only turning on his and trailing after your pacing with his eyes.

“I don’t know if I could ever love you-“

“You do not have to love me!” At the confession, Aegon is suddenly standing before you, your hands clasped tightly in his. Almost too tightly. As if he was grasping a delicate object he was too afraid would collapse and smash into a thousand pieces. The issue with that concern though, is that you’ve already been broken into thousands of tiny pieces and put back together again. In the end, there’s nothing left for him to break that’s not already been broken before. “All you need to do, my sweet princess, is let me in…”

This time, you do not break away so suddenly from Aegon when he kisses you again. Instead, you tightly grip at his warm fire like flesh in your fingers, and allow for his body to envelope you in senses you thought would never be awoken again.

That night, you felt the crash of everything you have ever been feeling, and everyone that’s made you feel that pain hit you all at once. That night, the hurting finally stopped for a time, and was replaced with only pleasure.

Aemond feels tired, exhausted, and drained, all in one. The words that he attempts to write to you blur all into one as his head swims with an ache that he has no idea whether is due to his deformity or due to his lack of sleep and self care. Either way, it’s in the way, and if Aemond could, he would rip it from his head so he could be done with it all.

He’s seen glimpses and heard plenty of tales of Aegon coming and going from your chambers. Seemingly, a strange bond has formed between the two of you, as before his time at Harrenhal, you’d never spoken to him. Yet now, he hears whispers of his brother leaving your presence and your chambers nearly every day.

Now he not only is jealous of his brothers soon to be crown. Now, he must bear witness and be forced to sit and wallow in his jealousy of Aegons access to your touch and your voice. Of Aegons access to his wife.

The letter in front of him, his unknown number attempt at reconciliation, is half written. The quill in his hand half poised to write as it drips dark raven ink onto the page and bleeds onto the dark oak desk.

Maybe he should write it with his own blood? Slice his palm and let it drip into a cup, before dipping his quill into it and writing his heartbreak with it. If he shows you how much he’s willing to bleed for you, maybe you’ll finally be willing to read his words and allow him to see you again…

There’s now a cramp in his hand from where he’s paused himself, and yet he strangely relishes in the onslaught of dull pain being given to him by his hand and head.

Maybe it’s a sign from the gods that he should stop himself? For he betrayed both the maiden and the mother when he laid with that fucking witch from Harrenhal, and it feels as if he should be praying nightly to the father for him to be brought to justice for you.

However now, with the considerable amount of time that he is being forced to spend away from you and your arms, he feels as though he should pray to the Stranger, late at night, when the moon is high and full. He should pray to him to slice his head from his shoulders and place him away from his misery forever more.

Though with his Targaryen heritage, there is no doubt that they have been waiting for an opportunity like this to pluck him and his family from their very roots for their many sins…

It has been a few months since you, ‘let Aegon in’, as he’d so put it. Though if you were to be honest with yourself, you’ve never felt as calm of character, as you were when you were with Aegon.

Still, you must admit, that whenever his head of short and unkempt silver hair is laid in your lap, facing away from you, your mind begins to wander of other things. You end up always thinking of his hair being twice as long, and his body being twice as lean.

You concluded that the gods must be punishing you for your sins. For practically abandoning your husband for a man of his own blood and partaking in pleasures of the flesh with him. But if this was how the gods had decided to punish you, how were they punishing Aemond…

“It is alright my love, we do not need to do it again until you are willing.” Aegon had said whilst stroking the bare skin of your arm with a distinguishable fondness.

You hadn’t the strength to tell him that the reason why you could not bring yourself to lay with him again is because the memory of Aemond still lives on in you forever. The ones that used to make you smile in fondness, but now make you wish to tear out his other eye with your bare hands and have his blood drip from your fingernails.

Aemonds memory that constantly lies within you is now a plague. A plague of constant mourning and sadness. A plague that is never ending and never relenting.

The memory of him still lives on months later, where for the first time ever, you leave your room dressed properly and looking like a true lady of the court. Aegon stands by your side in what you believe in his eyes is for your protection. But why would you need protection when your heart has been broken and stitched back together carelessly two times already?

Though as Aegons tries to murmur what your sure is meant to be encouraging murmurs of affection in your ear, your ears prick up to the sound of a familiar sound of footsteps, and you look up and connect eyes with your husband.

Your feet stop where they stand, and Aegons hands clench firmly against your own as he continues murmuring some kind of unknown gibberish in your ear. But you ignore him and look only at your husband. Who in turn, stares only at Aegons hands that are intwined in your own. You can see even from where you are standing, the way his brows furrow in annoyance at the sight, and somehow, you can feel your heart break for the third time in your lifetime as Aemond swiftly walks away without sparing you another glance.

You’re here. You’re walking close as can be with his brother and you’re standing in front of him looking at him with shocked doe like eyes.

The anger that blooms in his chest is nothing like the anger he felt when he killed Luke. It’s nothing similar to the anger he felt when he faced the injustice of his father when he was robbed of his eye. This is a new type of anger. It’s an obsession. A new type of injustice that only the feeling of blood on his skin could possibly have the power to diminish. But not your blood. Never your blood. No. Aemond craves Aegons blood on his blade.

He doesn’t even realise that he walked away from you until he looks around and realises he’s in his chambers, and his eye stares at the half written letter that still pathetically lays on his desk. An old pot of ink and a ruffled quill still waiting for him to pick up again.

His rage that still boils like a dragons fire within him feels no bounds as he tempts himself into ripping the letter. Into grabbing his dagger tucked away in his belt and stalking his way through the passages to Aegons chambers, where he’d wait till the sun goes down to strike him when he least expects it, and grin as Aegons chokes on his blood with fear and betrayal in his eyes. Watching with glee as Aegon dies for his crime. Trying to take what rightfully belongs to him.

But then, Aemond properly begins to think. You seemed to be close to be brother, if the closeness Aegon held you and the way he so closely whispered into your ears meant anything. If he killed his brother, it would only mean that he killed another one of the people you cared about. And Aemond refused to give you another reason for you to be scornful of him.

Aemond gives in though and rips the letter on the desk, and with a huff begins a new one. His anger and his frustration clear in his writing and with how many times the quill almost goes through the page with how fiercely and carelessly he uses it. He imagines your happiness though as he writes. The way you used to smile at him with such unique brightness. The way your cheeks would flush a beautiful light pink when he teased you. He even dared to think and reminisce on the way your face would shift into one of pure pleasure when he’d sit before the heaven that lay between your thighs, and lick and suck till he felt you spill no less than three times on his tongue.

The last thought soured though as he imaged Aegon seeing you like that. Seeing your smile, your happiness, your pleasure. The grip on his quill so strong he felt it snap between his fingers. A sharp shard of it bringing a small drop of blood to drop and pool on the page bellow. Yet Aemond didn’t choose to begin a new letter clear of his blood. He allowed it to stay there and continue with the same paper, so he could show his devotion to you. So he could show his willingness to bleed for you. Show how much he values his vow to shed as much blood as he needed to in order to achieve your forgiveness. It was truly an addictive thought, seeing you again. And one he could never stop running through his head when he thought of the future.

Aemond finished the letter, writing on the paper front and back with no less than three separate pages before he deemed his rant to be over. Blood pooling on various areas on all of them. His fingers now cramping around the new quill that he’d grabbed with each flex of his hand, and the ache that has sadly dulled around the cut to Aemonds relief remains pungent. If he could, he would pray to all Seven Gods for the wound to never heal. So you could see his devotion to you. To witness the death of his sanity in front of your very eyes.

There are no guards outside the front of your chambers. A fact Aemond cannot help but be disgusted by when he sees it as he walks to the familiar doors. Later that night he’ll find those two men tasked with the purpose of keeping you safe, and he’ll make sure to strip them of whatever dignity and honour they believed to possess. Perhaps the comfort of the wall would suit them nicely? Or the kiss of his blade?

Aemond raises his fist to knock at the door, but voices keep him from doing so. Specific voices. Yours and Aegons voices…

Before he knows it, Aemond is pushing himself against the wood as much as he can so he can hear every beautiful syllable of your voice. He does not care at first for the meanings behind them, but he certainly begins to when he realises what he is listening too are some very familiar high pitched sounds. Breathless sounds that Aemond had told you on yours and his wedding night that only he would hear.

While Aemond waits outside your door, he can hear your voices of pleasure radiating from the other side.

His fists are clenched no more to knock, but instead in anger. And the dulled throb of the small cut earlier on his hand flares up again as it reopened from his carelessness. Yet instead of moving to stem the blood, Aemond grows an idea deep from within him. Aemond snatches his dagger from his belt, and with no hesitation, quickly slices a deep mark on his inner palm.

His posture and frame is deathly still while the blood begins to heavily pool and drip onto the ground, only moving to place his hand firmly against the wooden door, watching it drip down the dark wood and trail to the stone flooring.

He can see the large puddle flow under your door, and Aemond wishes nothing more at that moment for you to see it. To see him. To see his devotion. His love. His sacrifice for you. If he hadn’t already lost it, Aemond would’ve torn out his eye and shoved it under the door too as a gift for you to make you stop your torturing of his soul.

Aemond only steps away when the blood pool reaches his shoes, and even then it’s with great resistance from himself as he stuffs the still bleeding wound against his dark coat that already begins to rapidly absorb the blood. He can even feel it soak his undershirt and his skin.

He goes straight to his chambers that night instead of paying a visit to the maesters. He does the same the next night, and the one after that.

Instead, Aemond relishes in the look he receives from Aegon the next morning. The look of utter horror and fear that speaks at least over a thousand words. The look that tells him you now finally know of his gift and his devotion to you. The look that tells him he is one step closer to you again.

Aemond Targaryen refuses to rest until he is drained entirely of his blood and it is pooled directly at your feet. He refuses to rest until his heart is laid bare in his hands and is presented to you like a septa presents the gods with their offerings. Until his name can be uttered from your precious lips without your own heart breaking from sorrow.

Aemond Targaryens heart could break a thousand times over, each time bloodier than the next, but he refuses to allow yours to break again. Not by his hand at least…

[rafegf-real]

Beneath the Surface

• Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

• Warnings: Angst, emotional turmoil, family issues, mentions of sadness, but with a happy ending.

• Note: This story explores Rafe’s struggles with family pressures and his fear of dragging the reader into his chaos. As he battles his emotions and distances himself, their love is tested, leading to a heartfelt reunion and a reaffirmation of their bond

-this is half proofread😭🤙

It was a typical Friday night when the change became undeniable. You were at a party at the Outer Banks, surrounded by friends, but your attention was solely on Rafe. He had been quiet all night, his laughter ringing hollow, his eyes shadowed with worry. As the evening wore on, you noticed him retreating into the crowd, pulling away from you.

Finally, you decided to confront him. You found him on the balcony, staring out at the ocean, the wind ruffling his hair. The moonlight cast a silvery glow on his features, but you could see the pain etched into his expression.

“Rafe,” you said softly, stepping closer. “What’s going on? You’ve been distant all night.”

He turned to you, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. “It’s nothing. Just… a lot on my mind.”

“Is it your dad again?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

He clenched his jaw, and the silence between you grew heavy. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You reached for his hand, your heart aching at his distance. “You can talk to me about anything. I’m here for you.”

He pulled his hand away, and it felt like a physical blow. “No, you don’t understand! I don’t want to bring you into my mess. My family is a disaster, and I can’t let you get hurt because of me.”

“Rafe, I love you. I can handle it,” you replied, desperation creeping into your tone. “We can handle it together.”

He looked away, and you could see the internal battle raging in him. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. My family is falling apart, and I’m just… I’m just a mess.”

The tears threatened to spill as you fought to keep your voice steady. “You’re not a mess. You’re just human. We all have our struggles.”

He turned back to you, his eyes filled with emotion, a mix of sadness and guilt. “I don’t want to drag you down with me. I care about you too much for that.”

The pain of his words sliced through you, and you felt a warmth spread behind your eyes. “Maybe you need some space,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N, wait—” he started, but you turned away, trying to keep the tears at bay.

As you made your way through the party, you felt a profound sense of loss. The laughter and music faded into a dull roar, overshadowed by the heaviness in your heart. You left the party, the cool night air doing little to ease the pain inside.

A Few Days Later

Days passed, and the silence between you and Rafe was deafening. He hadn’t called or texted, and each notification on your phone brought a pang of disappointment. You filled your time with friends and distractions, but Rafe lingered in your mind like a haunting melody you couldn’t shake.

Then, on a particularly bleak Saturday evening, you received an unexpected text: “Can we talk? Meet me at the beach.” Your heart raced at the message, a mix of hope and anxiety swirling within you.

When you arrived, the moon hung high in the sky, casting a shimmering path across the water. Rafe stood near the shoreline, his silhouette outlined against the waves. He looked lost, a stark contrast to the boy you had fallen for. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you approached.

“Rafe,” you called softly, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the surf.

He turned, and the look on his face shattered your heart. His eyes were red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears. “Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice trembling.

“What’s going on?” you asked, worry flooding your heart.

“I’ve been an idiot,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I pushed you away because I thought it would protect you, but I only hurt you more. I thought I could handle my family issues alone, but I can’t. I’m scared, Y/N. I don’t want to drag you into this darkness.”

You took a step closer, the warmth of his presence grounding you. “You don’t have to go through it alone. I can help you. We can face it together.”

“I thought I could be strong,” he confessed, tears spilling down his cheeks. “But I feel so weak. I hate that I can’t protect you from this. I don’t want to be the reason you’re sad.”

The sight of him so broken, so vulnerable, made your heart ache. “Rafe, you’re not weak. You’re just human. We all have our struggles, and I’m here for you.”

“I’m sorry for shutting you out,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t know how to handle everything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I was terrified of losing you.”

You reached out, cupping his cheek with your hand, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palm. “You won’t lose me, Rafe. I care about you too much to just walk away.”

He stepped closer, his hands shaking as he reached out to hold you. “Please forgive me. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Of course, I forgive you. I was scared too. Scared that I was losing you,” you replied, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face.

Without another word, he leaned down and captured your lips with his, the kiss both apologetic and full of longing. You melted into him, feeling the tension of the past days dissolve as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, the ocean breeze swirling around you. “I love you, Rafe. We can get through anything together.”

He smiled, tears still glistening in his eyes, but they were now mixed with hope. “I love you too, Y/N. You make me want to be better, and I promise I’ll let you in from now on.”

As you stood together beneath the moonlight, you felt a renewed sense of hope. The storm of the past few days had only strengthened your bond, and together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Hand in hand, you walked along the shore, the waves crashing at your feet and the stars shining brightly above. In that moment, you knew that love was worth fighting for, and together, you could conquer anything.

[delicatebarness]

bring him home | chapter one

Summary: You leave your room for the first time in a month as the memory of your first meeting with Bucky floods your mind.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. A lot of grief and sadness.

Word Count: 1376

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A/N: Why do I do this to myself?

Tags: Let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters.

The atmosphere in the briefing room was thick with sorrow, each member of the team carried the weight of their loss, it was a heavy burden. Natasha, Steve, Banner, and Rhodey sat in silence, exchanging somber looks as they came together to discuss what needed to be done next. 

As they waited for you to join them, there was a noticeable sense of uncertainty. You hadn’t left your room in the month since the Snap, the grief had consumed you like a relentless tide. They had no expectations on your arrival, there was no hope that you would find the strength to join them. 

Yet, to their surprise and also their relief, the door creaked open, and you stepped inside.

Your appearance was a stark reflection of the grief you carried. Your eyes hollow, your shoulders slumped, and your face paled with the pain. It was as if the weight of the universe had settled on your shoulders, it was crushing you.

Steve’s voice broke the silence, he stood at the head of the table, his voice heavy with emotion as he spoke. “We’re glad you could join us,” he said softly, you could hear the relief in his voice. It was rare that he got to see you these days. 

You managed to direct a weak nod in response to him, your throat was tight with unshed tears. The concern that etched your friends and family’s faces only served to deepen the ache in your chest. 

As the meeting began, the discussion turned into plans for the future - how to rebuild what had been lost and how you help those who had been affected. Each word felt like a knife to the heart, a painful reminder of how you were one of the affected.

“We need to focus on finding a way to provide support to those who have lost,” Natasha said, her voice determined. “They need to know they’re not alone,” 

Banner nodded in agreement, “We need to consider the long-term effects of the snap, too,” he added. “The psychological impact.” You couldn’t help but notice his gaze land on you at that moment.

Rhodey chimed in, his voice steady. “We’ll need to work closely with the remaining governments and aid organizations, make sure resources are allocated where needed,” he said.

The meeting dragged on, tears had been threatening to spill from your eyes since you sat in your old usual spot. You weren’t focused on what they were saying, memories of happier times flooded your mind, each one a cruel reminder of what you lost.

Drawing to a close, everyone began to leave the briefing room. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming loneliness wash over you. Despite being only a few feet away from friends and family, you felt utterly alone. 

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks, unchecked and unstoppable as the last of them left you sitting at the table. 

~

You remembered the first time you laid eyes on him, The Winter Soldier, your memory was as vivid as if it was yesterday. You were just a child, barely old enough to understand the world beyond the Red Room. Yet, even then, something about the large and mysterious man set him apart from the others. 

You had heard the whispers of his existence long before you ever saw him - the tales of a silent assassin who moved like a ghost were told in the girl's room after lights out. 

It was a cold, dreary day in the Red Room, it felt like it was being stretched on forever. You were alone on the training grounds, going through the motions of another grueling session. An intense workout on your small young body. He appeared before you as he silently spectated your movements. 

“I’ll be your trainer from now on,” his voice was low, almost monotone, yet it carried a demanding tone. 

At first, you froze in place, a mixture of fear and curiosity coursed through you. His movements were calculated and precise. Yet, beneath the facade of his programming, you sensed a flicker of something more. As a child, you sensed the spark of humanity that refused to be taken from him. 

As he began guiding you through the drills, he commanded with authority. “Stand straight, shoulders back.”

“Yes, Soldat,” you responded, straightening your posture as best as you could. 

His touch was firm but gentle, his instructions clear, you noticed how he never once fought back with his left arm. “You’re hesitating,” he observed.

“I, um, I’m sorry,” your small voice stammered, embarrassment rushed through you at your inability to keep up with his speed. 

“Focus,” he urged, you noticed the slight softening of his voice. For a moment, you saw your reflection in his eyes, a mirror image of the child you used to be before the Red Room stole you away and replaced your innocence with something darker. 

From that day forward, the Winter Soldier became more than just a trainer to you. He became your protector and silent companion. “You have potential,” he once remarked, his words causing pride and confidence to course through you for the first time. 

And though your time training with him was fleeting, the memory of him lingered long after you had completed your training and he vanished back into the shadows. 

~

You sat alone in your room, you still couldn’t believe you were back after over two years. It hadn’t changed since the morning you left with Natasha. Staring out the window, watching the raindrops race down the pane, you lost yourself in a sea of memories. Each one was a bittersweet reminder of what once was. The ache had yet to dull in your heart, the emptiness of lost companions. 

A sudden sound of gentle knocking on your door startled you. Blinking away the haze of sadness, you rose from your windowsill and made your way toward the door. You were met with the warm smile of your sister, Natasha, as you opened it. Her presence was a beacon of light in the darkness that had consumed you over the last month. 

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice a soothing tone that cut through the heaviness of the room. “Mind if I come in?” 

You shook your head, stepping aside to let her come in. She crossed the threshold, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern as she took in your teary eyes and the growing mess taking over your once gleaming room. 

“Have you found her?” you asked with a slight sense of hope in your voice.

Natasha’s expression faltered at your question, a shadow passed over her features. “She’s gone, too” she replied gently, her voice filled with regret. 

You nodded, a disappointing weight settling heavily in your chest. For weeks, you had searched tirelessly for any sign of your other sister, Yelena. Clinging to the hope that she was still out there somewhere, not vanished. 

Your sister moved closer, wrapping her arms around you in a comforting embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as your arms wrapped around her waist. “I know it hurts.”

“I just can’t believe they’re gone,” you admitted, your voice trembled as your eyes began to fill with tears again. “Yelena, Wanda, Sam, Bucky…”

“I know,” Natasha murmured as her grip tightened around you slightly. “But we’re still here, we have each other.” 

You nodded, the tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you confessed, grateful that you still had your eldest sister here with you and having her unwavering support.

As Natasha pulled back, her smile softened and her hands came up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the stray tears with her thumbs. “Just promise me one thing,” she said softly.

“What is it?” you asked, curious at the serious tone in her voice.

“Promise me,” her voice wavered slightly. “You’ll remember that you’re never truly alone, even if I’m not here to remind you.” Her eyes bore into yours, sending a chill down your spine. Her eyes were full of knowing as if she knew something you didn’t.

You furrowed your brow, sniffling as the tears continued to spill. “I promise,” you replied.

---

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[neetily]

↳ EVENT 44. Sam & Kent (Jealousy Sex & Incest)

— ✧ warnings: Jealousy Issues, jealousy sex, Incest, Competition, Established Relationship, father/son bickering, Double Penetration, Anal, Cheating — ✧ word count: 2,780

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

Sam has always been competitive, ever since he was a kid. Sometimes, to an unnaturally high degree— in other words, a problem. Taking challenges on a personal level, almost. As if his very existence hinges on the thrill of competition itself. It's exhilarating, don't you think? To be on the cusp of something great, something unrivalled in emotion; to be the best at something.

He does well not to let it cause him to act out, accepting loss as it comes (and it comes). But it's something so innate to him, ingrained in his being from birth. It's why he continues to suck at pool every Friday night in an effort to become better, willing to put himself through bouts of cheeky laughter and playful jabs from his beloved friends so long as it means that he's improving, y'know? So long as he can feed that near insatiable need to improve himself, to exceed expectations eventually, then he'll strive towards it.

That's why he's with you too, right? Never once stopping in his pursuit to be your boyfriend, continuing down the path of trying to earn your attention and affection no matter how many times he may have 'lost'— and God did he try. More than anything he's ever tried for in his life, to be honest. He could never imagine faltering in his efforts to score you, to become a better man infinitely for you, because you deserve the best. And he's working on it, don't you worry, babe.

But it's funny, how despite how many steps he continuously takes forward, all it takes to get him going is an off-handed comment. A mere joke tonight, if he thinks about it. You know, your dad's pretty hot, Sam. If he wanted to, he could have even taken it as a compliment, misconstrued your pretty clear intentions as something innocent instead, avoiding the ticking time bomb buried in his chest upon your jesting confession. Especially given how often you say that he resembles his old man in spite of the grumbles it gets outta him. But something needier is triggered within him upon your spilled secret. That same age old itch he's felt since birth, nagging away at the back of his mind enough to prompt him into impulsive action.

He just wants to be the best for you, wants to be your number one, the same way that you're his in all aspects. He can't allow any competition to worm its way through his defences, tight squeeze or not.

Or, that's what he tells himself anyway. Burying the scathing burn of jealousy in his tummy when his dad thrusts so heavily into you that you end up falling froward against his chest, scowling over your shoulder as you're forced to rest your head against his, the fucking smirk Kent wears when staring back at him is downright infuriating, in part because he sees himself in that faux smile.

But that's exactly what he needs right now, right? Helping you steady yourself between two cocks, both him and his old man sat with their heels behind them, your legs wrapping ever so tightly around Sam's sturdy waist as your tits squish up against his chest so nicely, if not for the fact that it's his fathers doing. He needs some anxious energy right now; just enough to motivate him, he doesn't want to topple over before the shows fully started. And for that, he's thankful his dad is situated behind you right now, cock balls deep in your tight little ass that Sam's fucked plenty times before— absolutely no fucking way was Kent getting your cunt.

After all, who do you think Sam picked up his competitive tendencies from?

The best.

No chance was he giving you up on a silver platter like that; he knows his dad well enough to know that if given the opportunity, you'd be taken two loads down your cunt tonight. No, a simple stipulation. Wanna fuck her? Take her ass. "You good, babe?" Sam questions you, eyes never leaving his father as his brows furrow before him, a non verbal proposition. You're not gonna win, old man. Partially because he's at least checking in on you, making sure Kent hasn't completely ruined you from the rough treatment he's shown you thus far; seems his competitive streak isn't the only thing he's stolen from his father.

"Course she is, look at the way she's tremblin'." Kent huffs from behind you, still sporting that stupid smirk that irks Sam to no end. Like he knows something that he doesn't, the thought alone causing an uncomfortable weight to settle thick in his tummy.

"Yeah, okay, I think I know when t'check up on 'er, considerin' I'm, y'know. Dating her." Sam retorts, rubbing soothing circles against your lower back as you grow accustomed to the feeling of two fat cocks stretching you wide open; count that as another similarity, as annoying as it is to admit.

Kent only grunts in response, big rough hands reassuringly groping at the meat of your thighs despite his otherwise impatient attitude. The brief pause between familial bickering allows you space to speak, but all Sam hears instead is this meek little mewl directly down his ear. Like you can't bare the act of verbalising your feelings, let alone the thought. The feeling of your body shivering in his hold as he makes sure his cock is allll the way in for a second or tow has him grinding his teeth in frustration, tip all twitchy for your dulcet tones, leaking precum to stain your copiously lubed up cunt already. And he figures Kent must have felt the throbbing too, given the way his father chews on his bottom lip, avoids his gaze with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

A one up, so soon? Perhaps the situation is finally settling in for his dad, now that their cocks are practically touching inside of your warm, squishy little body. Perfect angel cunt stretched over his heavy cock, insides attempting to suck him off further as he makes you wait for it. It's for your own benefit, one of him is enough, let along a bigger, stronger version of him, he muses to himself. And surely, your cute little asshole is an even tighter fit right now, yeah? Though he's fucked it and stretched it many times before, he knows exactly what Kent must be going through too. The little squirms and sucks, as if your body was begging for more already. And they haven't even fully begun—

Fuck, you should only be giving him that sort of treatment, right? That's why you're in this position in the first place, so that you can ultimately choose him. Have you ever found him so difficult to take, huh?

Spurred on by the burning bile in his tummy, he tightens his jaw and takes a decisive grip of your waist. Eyeing his father up once more with a determined glint. It's easy to ignore the seed of inadequacy in his chest when Kent merely stares back, awaiting further instructions, because he can feel the way your lips press gently against his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin just a little to leave him breathlessly confident.

That's right. You might be squirming on Kent's cock right now, but it's him that you're seeking comfort from, right? Legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms even tighter around his neck, nails digging into his back to convey just how much they fill you up; so full, aren't you? To the fucking brim if the amount of slick that drips down to his balls are anything to go by. And God, the way your cunt just sucks him in, pulsing around his whole length as he shifts his weight around a little more, preparing for movement. Really, it doesn't really matter what your true answer is to his self serving thought, he takes it as a win regardless. Convinced from the get go that of course he's gonna win this stupid competition because he knows you so well, yeah? There's no way he'd fail in the sport of taking care of you! Cooing sweetly down your ear when you babble nonsense for his attention, he can't help but to grow giddy with excitement at the prospect of finally beating his dad.

"Gonna make y'feel all better. Me, okay? Promise—"

"C'mon," Kent interrupts him, annoyance present in his fathers tone, an intimate timbre from the childhood he spent with him. Even now, Sam simply brushes him off, idly pinching at your waist as if you were the only person in the room with him right now. And you might as well be, given how hard he's gonna fuck you, fuck, can't fucking wait to fuck you truly stupid in front of the man you called hot. "Cocks fuckin' achin' over here. Can we get a move on, or—"

Shit, shut up— is what he wants to say, but coaxed into sudden movement by the way your cunt sucks him off so perfectly, and the familiar craving to come out on top of his father, Sam drags his hips back to draw a high pitched whine from your lips, only to effectively shut you up in a silent gasp for more when he thrusts all the way back inside, not even clueing his father in before settling into a brutal pace, one full of persistence, perseverance, all of his hard work and effort to be the best version of himself for you culminating in precise fucks upward into your tight fucking cunt— god, fuck— sound so fucking pretty when you can't even breathe properly from his fast pace.

Though his father is not far behind, wising up to the situation with a chuckle, making sure to swing his hips in tandem to his sons thrusts. And Sam is honestly a little surprised at just how well Kent can keep up with him, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in sheer sexual frustration of the fact, both impressed and irritated by the revelation. Sweet sounds of balls slapping against your underside; whose is whose? Can you even tell from the amount of broken moans and sobbed sighs you let out? Ah, he hopes you can tell which cock is making you feel the best, huffing harshly against your shoulder as his eyes squeeze shut with how tightly your cunt wraps around him, making sure to pull out all the stops as he angles his hips in such a way so as to hit your sweet spot— resulting in the prettiest sound he thinks he's ever heard you make. Take that, Kent.

But, it seems like his dad is a quick learner too. Leaning further into you, gripping at your ass cheeks to spread em wider; for your benefit? Or for his own perverted viewing pleasure? Sam sure knows which would be his reason, anyway.

"Fuck, kid—" Kent rasps from behind you, fucking his too fat cock in and out of your well prepared pretty asshole like it was a trained effort. Something second nature, rather than the first time experience Sam knows it to be. So fucking annoying. "So fuckin' tight, arent'cha? God, ain't fucked somethin' this tight in a while—"

"Babe—" Sam gasps for you, begging for your attention as he helps aid your bounce up and down on their cocks. It's much easier to ignore his dad when he's got you wailing against his neck, burying his face in the crook of your own so that you've got no chance but to hear how heavily he pants for you, how loud he sighs with every pass of his tip against your insides, and though he'd loath to admit it, every rub of Kent's cock thinly veiled against his own is stupid good, too. "Takin' it so well, please— keep squeezin' like that—"

This is where they differ though, and were Sam thinks he can gain the upper hand. His dad, rough around the edges, is all tongue and cheek. Smacking at your ass loud enough to be heard over the slap of their balls, even over the squish of your fucked full little angel cunt; but Sam? Only offers encouragement. Not only with his words, but with the way he carves his shape out of your insides, making you feel every single twitch and throb your pretty pussy sucks out of him, bullying his way to your cervix as a means to prove himself to you; look at how hard I'm trying for you, isn't that hot? Isn't that hotter than the cock in your ass right now? Hotter than my dad?

But you always were a little spoiled. Probably down to how much he does for you, yeah? All in an effort to be the best, allowing you to rely on him to make all the decisions for you. How hard to fuck, how fast to fuck, when to cum. Even now, you relying on him. Not his dad, not yourself, but on him to make you feel all better again as you subtly shift your hips to be pressed more against his pelvis just so that you can rub your puffy little clit against him, unable to communicate just how much you need him, and yet still he's able to pick up on your desperation. Even with Kent humping your ass so unfairly from behind, ending up fucking you forward a little, pressing you between two rock hard bodies so snugly that Sam feels as though even he's suffocating. Bearing the full weight of your meagre grinds and Kent's hefty cock, it's upsetting how every time he feels his dads dick brush up against his own through your holes, he shivers in response; because it feels so fucking good, he can only imagine how it must feel to take it.

And he does his best to ignore the yearn in his heart to feel it for himself, instead focusing on how your cute cunt clamps down on his fat cock, how he's so close to the finish line he can almost taste it. Even now, as he's about to cream your puffy pussy right in front of his father, he can't help but to yearn for the win. It's almost more important to him than anything else right now, if not for the way he catches sight of Kent's pained expression and he has to fight himself not to let out the most pathetic fucking whine of his life.

What's worse is when Kent continues to buck fervently into your tight asshole and decides to taunt Sam so nonchalantly with: "Already? C'mon Sammy, y'can give more than that, cant'cha? My son? Bowing out already?"

He wants to defend himself desperately, to whine like a child about how you feel too fucking good, ask his father why he isn't as close as he is right now, and with victory so close on the horizon too—

In the end, he should have known better than to challenge Kent. Spent a lifetime of losing to his father, the feeling of your gushy cunt squeezing around his cock so frantically, of course, inevitably does him in. Creaming your cunt as soon as you start to choke on his name, big fat load fucked right up to your cervix from how eagerly Kent starts to thrust against your backside at the first sign of incoherent babbling from you both, as if he was merely holding back until now. And the slick rub of his dads cock against his own only has him cumming harder, tip twitching as it drools seed against your walls, painting your insides white while Kent fucks it all back out of your stuffed hole.

And Sam hopes for a break. Resolved to accept the loss on the promise of a round two, though he's not sure how much of that resolution is selfish in nature, shivering into the feeling of your cum stained cunt dripping back out onto him every time Kent thrusts balls deep in you again and again. But his dad doesn't let up. Doesn't stop, nor does he slow down. Fucking both you and Sam into overstimulation territory as you hold onto him for dear life and he's left wincing up at Kent.

"Not done yet, son," He grunts, more focused than ever now that you're left all for himself, that same look of determination flashing over his fathers face for a second or two, long enough for Sam to recognise the predicament he's truly found himself in tonight. "That's it, fuck— you're mine."

Sam isn't sure if he means you, or him.

[chrisevansonly]

Thoughtful Celebrations

pairing: harry styles x female reader

summary: it’s one year of harry’s house and you couldn’t help but plan a little something for your harry

warnings: none very fluffy

a/n: i wanted to make a little blurb with no au, because i do plan on doing one for harry’s angel, but i had another fic in mind for my au today so i hope you enjoy this little blurb. happy one year to the album that saved and changed my life🤍

Upon looking around at the red and white heart balloons, mixed with some cute little fruit ones that scattered around the living room, you had to say you were quite pleased with yourself. Getting up this early would normally have you grumpier than usual, but today? Today was the one year anniversary of Harry’s House, the third studio album your amazingly talented boyfriend released this day last year.

You had never been more proud of someone in your entire life, his determination and dedication to this project showing through every song that was on this album. Harry had constantly told you just how much it had saved him throughout the chaos of the last few years, working on this in Italy, one of his favourite places in the world, you were surprised when he asked you to come with him. You were Harry’s whole world, he’d never felt as safe and loved as he had with you, and allowing you to tag along for the creation of this album had meant the world for you.

“Y/N?”

Smiling at the raspy sound of H’s voice, you knew he’d be a bit annoyed you’d left bed, the mornings always reserved for cuddles and discussing plans for the day

“Living room my love!”

“Mad y’left bed this morning..”

You let out a laugh, your arms widening when he came towards where you were. Harry stopped, taking in the room around him, the balloons, the yummy looking breakfast you put out, and the way you framed some of the photos Anthony or Lloyd had captured of the two of you throughout the past year and before

“Baby…”

“Happy one year to harry’s house darling!”

Harry was honestly at a loss of words, here he stood looking at his love who’d put so much effort into celebrating the anniversary of one of his favourite albums he’d made. He could already feel himself getting emotional, and you were quick to walk over to him, pulling him in for a hug as you noticed the tears in his eyes

“Oh H…didn’t mean to make you cry love”

“I love you so-so much…”

He tightened his hold on you until you manoeuvred your head back to look at him, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips

“I love you so much, i’m so proud of you every single day. the work you’ve put into this album, the shows you’ve performed, lives you’ve saved, changed, impacted…Harry I have never been more proud to not only love you, but to experience the way you create such magic and allow others to get a chance to enjoy it with you”

He shook his head a few more tears spilling down his cheeks which you managed to catch before taking his face in your hands

“You deserve every ounce of this love and happiness your fans give to you, that your friends and family have for you, and that I share with you, my harry”

“Yours..”

Placing another kiss on your lips he pulled away and wrapped you back up in his arms, he pinched himself most nights wondering how in the world he got so lucky to have found a woman as amazing as you are. You kept him safe, provided him so much love and comfort, and were his biggest supporter.

“Thank you for this petal, love you so much and m’so grateful I get to go through this life with you, can’t believe you did all this for me”

Smiling up at him you shrugged

“I’d give you the entire world if you asked me too..”

In Harry’s eyes you already had, you were the moon, the stars and the whole universe to him. You were his world.

[skellseerwriting]

You’re Perfect

Boyfriend!Morgie x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3,465

Content and Warnings: Hurt/Comfort + fluff, Platonic heartbreak, getting ghosted irl by a friend, crying, self deprecating thoughts, slight panic/anxiety attack at the beginning, taking a bubble bath (by yourself), Morgie washes your hair (while you’re in the bath), implied literal sleeping together at the end, nothing suggestive, kissing, cuddling, very cozy, Morgie comforts you and soothes you the whole time, he’s nothing but loving, we all need a boyfriend like Morgie, reader is slightly ND coded

Summary: After dealing with the stress all day of one of your friends ending your friendship, you go to your boyfriend Morgie for comfort.

You knocked on Morgie’s door.

Doing your best not to pace the hallway, your hands clenched into fists. Nails indenting in your palms, you took shallow breaths. Your brain was in panic mode.

Every one of your senses was on alert. The air smelt stale while the AC unit hummed in the background. The skin of your cheeks felt taut at the tears that had recently dried there. You pulled at the neckline of your top that constricted your throat and its airflow.

Where was Morgie?

Your panicking continued to grow along with the pace of your breathing.

Just before you felt as if some part of you might burst like a submarine in deep waters, the door clicked open. You nearly pushed past it to rush into your boyfriend’s arms, but you froze.

You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know what to do. You were at an utter loss.

Morgie’s sweet face appeared in front of you, and your heart all but soared

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?” He asked softly; taking in your face and the lines of worry that were no doubt etched into it. Digging your teeth unforgivingly into your lip, you -almost unnoticeably- shook your head back and forth.

Opening the door completely, he looked so loving as he spread his arms wide like a bird.

That was all it took for you to run into his embrace, and the dam broke just like that.

Wrapping his arms around you, Morgie just listened as you spilled everything to him; the waterworks in full force.

You told him the heartbreak you were currently suffering at the hand of; how someone you were close with no longer wanted to be friends with you. She began avoiding you all day and refused to talk to you at all, and it took asking a mutual buddy to discover it was apparently about something you had said.

That made your heart splinter and fracture even more.

You didn’t know what you said. You didn’t know what you did wrong.

“What did I say, Morgie? What did I say?” You sobbed; face pressing into him. All the hurtful thoughts that had been building up throughout the day were finally spilling out of you. But the emotional tank had become so full and pressurized that everything was shooting out in painful streaks.

Your loving boyfriend began dragging his fingers up and down your back, and you couldn’t help but melt a little further into his touch at the soothing scratches.

“I don’t know.” He said carefully before pressing a kiss to your scalp. “But whatever it was, it’s not your fault she chose to stop talking to you. She should have tried to work it out with you; or at least told you what the issue was. I’m sorry baby.”

You tried to let his words coat you like a burn salve, but you were still stinging underneath it all. The whole ordeal had left you in such a state that no one could so easily fix it with a few sweet words.

But, they helped a little bit.

Having your boyfriend with you made it feel less bad. Still bad; but not as much as it had been previously.

“Can I-“ You hiccuped. “Can I stay the night with you?”

Morgie moved one of his hands up to brush his fingers against the back of your neck. They felt nice and warm, leaving goosebumps on the sensitive skin.

“Of course.” He soothed, leading you inside; hands never taking themselves off of you. Before making it to the mattress that you longed to cuddle up with him on, he paused your movement.

The hand on your neck moved up into your hair. It was a mess.

“It’s all so tangled.” Morgie mumbled, fingering the greasy knots and trying to find a semblance of tidiness amongst the twisted strands.

You looked down; embarrassed.

You had already needed a shower that day, and the anxiety that had been racing through you attempted to get a handle on itself by getting hands on with your own oily hair.

Sniffling, you bunched your fingers up in his shirt.

“M’sorry…” you murmured, hoping he didn’t find you disgusting with that in combination of your leaking face. Surely he wouldn’t want to cuddle with you now.

“Don’t apologize.” Morgie eased, then gave you a smile that you couldn’t help but wonder if it was fake. “I’ll help you.”

Instead of bringing you to the bed, he brought you to his dorm bathroom. Turning on the low lighting setting, he opened a cupboard and began pulling out bottles and things while you just stood in the center; awkwardly clutching yourself.

Fear spiked through you at the uncertainty of what was happening. How was he going to fix your hair? Would it hurt? He wasn’t going to cut it, was he?

You trusted Morgie with many things; but scissors near your hair was not one of them.

Morgie had moved from the cupboard to the tub that took up most of the bathroom space. It was open on all sides; enough so that a person could walk around it without touching the wall. You watched in anxious curiosity as he began to pour… something into the bathtub, before turning the faucet with a squeak.

“Wha-“ you cut yourself off. You were too afraid to ask him. Was he preparing a bath for you? Upon briefly hearing your voice, Morgie turned back to look at you.

“Almost ready.” He said. “Just gotta fill it up and make sure there’s enough bubbles.”

You wanted to smack yourself in the face. You knew your boyfriend loved bubble baths.

And he was preparing one for you.

The realization comforted the smallest piece in your heart, though you were still stricken with grief.

After he was done getting it all ready, Morgie left the room so you could change, dip your toes into the hot water, and settle underneath the bubbles; making sure that all that was poking out was your head and neck. The water felt so nice and comforting as it enveloped you like a warm hug.

Once you were ready, you nervously called Morgie back.

“So what are you doing now?” You asked; bubbles up to your chin. From behind his back, your boyfriend revealed a hairbrush.

You felt a little flustered.

“You don’t have to brush my hair, Morgie…” you sunk half of your face into the bubbles.

“No, don’t worry about it.” He reassured in his cheery tone. “I want to.”

Still uncertain, you watched as he grabbed a stool and went to take a seat behind you. With him out of sight, you began to notice the pleasant scent originating from the bath water. It smelt so lovely and refreshing. Maybe you should ask him later.

Feeling something touch your head, you jolted, and the water jostled around you.

“Sorry.” Morgie whispered, not meaning to startle you at all. You sunk even farther into the bubbles out of embarrassment. “Sit up straight out of the bubbles, Love.” He encouraged. “Let me take care of you.”

You did as he asked slowly, though it wasn’t without its struggles, and you still found yourself leaning away from him slightly. Once the water settled from lack of movement again, you whispered to him.

“Please be gentle with me.”

His hand found its way back to your neck; thumbing your spine.

You shivered at the touch.

“I promise, Baby.”

After he whispered those sweet words to you, he got to work. Using the brush, he started at the base of your hair, where the tangles were furthest down.

You could hear the bristles moving as they snagged on the tiny knots of hair, and you flinched at the flecks of pain, leaning away even farther.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered with a guilt-ridden voice, pausing to rub your skin again -this time in apology- with the left hand that was settled between your shoulder and neck.

The soothing touch instantly took hold of you, and you could all but resist as you finally leaned back into his warm hand; eyes closed contently.

“I’ll do my best, okay?” He promised, going back to brush your hair again.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tensed your shoulders, preparing to feel the harsh sting.

It didn’t come.

All you felt was a gentle caress into the dirty strands. The tiny bristles glided through it like a hot knife through butter as Morgie slowly made his way up, up, up your scalp; completely unloosing the tangles.

You were genuinely shocked.

Pleasantly surprised too.

It seemed as if he went from novice to master in just a moment. Him dragging the brush through was like magic as you steadily tilted your head farther and farther back.

The back of your head reached the bathtub rim.

You opened up your eyes and they met Morgie’s above you.

“Hi.” He giggled.

You blushed.

Before you had the chance to try and respond, Morgie stopped working on your hair.

Before you could question him, a sharp sound started to your left; a hand-held shower head.

Urging you to sit up again, he brought the device up to your hair to get it wet. The water felt really warm as it encompassed your scalp entirely. He was an expert; trailing it all along until no spot was left dry.

Now, done getting it soaked (and turning the shower piece off), your boyfriend motioned you to lean back again. You heard a container click open and close, and the next thing you know he had both of his hands in your hair.

Morgie scrubbed his fingers into your scalp, creating scrunching sounds with the movement. You could feel soap begin to turn into suds as his hands moved up to your hairline. The skin there felt so at ease under his touch. You couldn’t help but loll your head backwards to try and get more pressure. He was more than kind enough to respond.

Digging his fingers in between follicles, Morgie essentially started massaging the area. It made you close your eyes so that your senses could focus on the affection entirely.

It felt nice. A lot nicer than you would care to admit. That small physical comfort was enough to ease the pain in your heart.

You had gotten this treatment before when you went to the barber for a cut, but somehow Morgie did it ten times better. Every push was filled with love and every rotation insisted how much he cared for you.

It was mind numbing, and you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Morgie grabbed the movable shower head again, and you almost mourned the loss of contact, only to be reassured when one hand was placed back in your hair; helping wash the shampoo out of your locks.

He was so gentle, it made you nearly fall in love with him all over again.

Carding his fingers between the untangled strands under the warm rush of the water, he began to mumble tiny reassurances.

You weren’t entirely sure if he even realized he was saying things, and that made you want to sink into the bubbles again at some of them. The ones you picked up on the best were: “Your hair is so pretty”, “I love taking care of you like this” and perhaps the one that nearly melted you: “You’re doing so good for me.”

Before you knew it, he was already at it again, scrubbing the conditioner into your scalp like a professional masseuse.

It took all your willpower to not turn around and beg for him to never stop. Luckily for you, your dignity wasn’t that low. In truth, Morgie always managed to find a way to increase it. He always knew how to make you feel better about yourself even when you couldn’t see the silver lining.

Overcome with the urge to say “I love you.” You pressed your lips closed and continued to enjoy the service your boyfriend was gracing you with.

You’ve told him before.

You can tell him later.

“How does that feel?” He asked you, interrupting your thoughts.

Not trusting your own voice, you hummed in response. Which was fairly easy, seeing how all you wanted to do under his touch right then was hum at how nice it felt.

Satisfied by your answer, he finished rinsing off the conditioner and getting as much water out of your hair as he could with his hands. He proceeded to drop a small towel on your head. Then, his presence behind you disappeared before he promptly returned.

“Here are some clothes for you to change into.” He said before setting them on the counter. “And your towel.” He set a large one on the stool he had just been sitting on; pulling it closer to the side of the bathtub.

You wanted to cry.

What did you do to deserve such an amazing boyfriend?

Luckily, he left the room before any tears were shed. Calming down, you proceeded to make do with the things he gave you. Standing up and rinsing the bubbles off you with the shower head, you quickly dried yourself off with the towel and went to grab the clothes.

They felt so smooth and soft; you could hardly believe this was the first time you wore your boyfriend’s clothes. You did a little spin in them, giggling to yourself. Then, you lifted part of the top to your nose, sniffing the fabric.

It smelled like Morgie.

A happy little squeal came out of you.

You were wearing your boyfriend’s clothes and they smelled like Morgie!

Your hands flapped up and down in excitement.

A soft knock at the door made you freeze a little.

“Are you done?” Morgie asked.

“Yes.” You automatically responded.

The door calmly opened and he took a step inside. It seemed in his own time he had opted to change into some pajama pants and a white tank top. Right upon seeing you, a smile split his face. His eyes lit up and they  seemed like they contained the sun.

“Wow…” he breathed; looking you up and down. You felt yourself flush and looked at the fuzzy socks that you had just put on your feet. “You look…” he couldn’t even finish his thought, covering his mouth with his hand bashfully. Then, he took notice of the small towel you had set back on your head. “Oh, here. Let me help you with that.”

And just like that, Morgie was right in front of you, taking care of you again. He grabbed the towel and started sliding it back and forth on your hair; attempting to towel dry it as best as he could. You giggled as the fabric covered your eyes and temporarily blinded you.

“Hold still!” He laughed, moving his efforts to placing his fingers on top and making scrubbing motions vigorously. Your neck was shaking back and forth along with it like a tiny bobblehead toy.

“I’m trying!”

Morgie tried changing angles, but your skull just moved along with that direction. Giving a deep sigh, he slid the towel off your hair and immediately sought your eyes to gaze into. He found them, and you found his.

His own irises shone with stars.

Was it because he was looking at you?

Before anything else could happen, your boyfriend reached an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, going in for a kiss. Surprised, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in; eager to reciprocate.

You didn’t end up getting that kiss as an arm could be felt snaking under your knees and hauling you off the solid floor.

“Whoa-“

“Don’t worry.” He reassured you. “I’ve got you.”

Feeling his bare shoulders flex under your hands, you realize he most certainly did. His tank top showed off his biceps and the muscles that were absolutely flexing while holding you.

Your brain began to overheat as you found yet another reason to find your boyfriend attractive. Pressing your face against his shoulder, you attempted to hide your blushing countenance as he giggled a fit.

Arms around you tight, Morgie continued to bridal carry you out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom.

Your heart absolutely soared at the simple act. It fluttered around in your chest, desperate to fly into the sky.

“Morgie!” You squealed as he started spinning around the dark room.

“Hang on!” He laughed, and you did what he suggested; clinging on tighter to him. The air coursed through your damp scalp in a slight chill, and you couldn’t help but shiver.

Slowing to a stop, he waited a moment to disperse any lasting dizziness before walking over to his bed. He lifted you over the mattress, and you shut your eyes, waiting for him to drop you.

Morgie didn’t do that.

He slowly lowered you, setting you down on the blanket like you were made of glass. You softly gasped at the gentleness of it.

His arms slowly pulled out from under you, leaving you realizing how much you were used to the warmth of his limbs in just a short amount of time.

Not missing a beat, he carefully pulled the heavy blanket out from where it was tucked under you. With his surprising strength, it was just like a magician with a tablecloth stacked with glasses.

Making grabby hands at him, your boyfriend quickly crawled over you to the center of the mattress. He lounged contently against pillows and settled in with a sigh; not accepting the request you were miming.

For a moment, with his eyes closed and with how peaceful he looked, you feared he may have instantaneously fallen asleep and forgotten all about you.

So, you couldn’t help but yelp as he suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you onto him.

After a clumsy collision of your body against his, you used your arms to prop yourself up properly. He felt incredibly warm everywhere you touched, so you didn’t waste another second to snuggle against him.

Before Morgie wrapped his arms around your waist, he leaned forward (shifting you as well in the process) to pull the blanket over your back as he leaned back again.

The weighted blanket was heavy. It pulled down on your shoulders; but not enough to drag you down. As you slumped forward into Morgie, the blanket aided in keeping you against him and covering you in mind fuzzy warmth that seeped deep into your muscles and bones; rendering you limp and helpless.

Morgie pressed a sweet kiss to your damp scalp before nuzzling his face into your neck.

“I hope I made you feel good tonight.” He whispered soothingly; breath tickling your skin in a way that made your eyes flutter.

“You did.” You told him. Then, taking his face in your hands, you gave him a tender kiss.

You gave him a few more; slow and barely disconnecting before going in for another. He gently wrapped a hand around your wrist as he kissed you back with as much love as he could convey.

Moving your hand, he pressed a kiss to your palm before placing another on your wrist. His fingers traveled upwards to interlock with yours as his lips did the same thing with your own; slow and steady and full of unwavering love.

Your head felt a little dizzy at how much he was caring for you.

Not just right now, but ever since you made your way to his dorm, from the very first second he saw your worried state.

Morgie was there from beginning to end; always there for you.

Trying not to cry happy tears, you settled your face onto his shoulder. Hugging his whole body, you deeply inhaled his scent with a satisfied hmmm. He started to rub his hands over your back; sliding slowly under the heavy blanket. Then, he turned to scratching you with his dull nails as he dragged them up and down in a soothing motion.

Sighing, you buried your nose even deeper in that spot right next to his neck as you soaked it all in.

“I love you so much.” He told you.

You hummed in response.

You were intoxicated by it. By him.

He was perfect.

“What was that, Love?” He asked; bringing his hands up to scratch your scalp and continue the previous massage that made you a flustered mess.

Melting into him, you whispered it loud enough for just the two of you to hear.

“You’re perfect.”

Morgie giggled sweetly, and your heart skipped a beat.

“No…” he replied quietly; turning his soft lips to your ear with a pure smile. “You’re perfect.”

Taglist: For Morgie

@lesbpotmurdocklokistan @mushroomdemon9 @brokenmilkcrates @little-teacupss

@eretsupremacy89 @leoisbabygirl

[milkyplier]

Ok I’m HERE pls elaborate on how Legend doesn’t push people away/want to be seen as strong. I will listen to All The Thoughts

HECK YEHA IM SO EXCITED OKAY LETS GO

And hold on tight, it’s long XD

I’ll go ahead and dump you right into it. Let’s look at his character traits, in Jojo’s original meet-the-characters sheet.

I want to focus on these two:

- Very mature for his age, but still young at heart

- Seems emotionally unaffected by his travels, however he keeps Koholint his dark secret

Long story short Legend doesn’t want to be seen as strong because he already is strong.

The idea that Legend pushes people away comes from the fear of losing those people. I think that Legend would have learned that loss is just a thing that happens. He can’t change that, he can’t stop it. And more importantly, he would have learned that not letting people inside in an effort to get hurt just wasn’t worth it. Ultimately, he would rather have friends and lose them one day than have no friends and spend his whole life (even more) alone and miserable.

Throughout the comic, we don’t even see Legend being any more or less receptive to the group’s relationship than anyone else. He hasn’t even been more secretive! It just feels like it because he has more things to stay quiet about. The reality is: Legend just knows when he does and doesn’t want to open his mouth and start spewing his personal information. He isn’t one to just spew words, I think that he considers every word that comes out of his mouth and as a result, just has no interest in sharing things about himself that don’t need sharing. Look here in the comic Scars:

Legend, Warriors, Hyrule, and Wild all share scars. Legend is the only one who doesn’t reveal the origin of his scar, by choice. Even Wild says “I don’t remember much,” which would seem to indicate that if he might have shared some information if he knew any. Legend remembers completely, and simply doesn’t say anything.

What does this tell us? Legend just has no interest in sharing where he got it. He has no problem remembering, and no issues with others’ curiosity—if he did, he wouldn’t have shown them the scar at all to avoid being harshly reminded and asked the inevitable “where did you get it?”

Long story short: Legend just has boundaries. And he’s very good at keeping them.

Legend doesn’t want to be seen as strong:

I just don’t think he’s that immature. I don’t think he is that anxious about his appearance. Yeah, I know, “but what about bunny Legend? He was worried about how the others would laugh at him because a bunny is weak and defenseless!”

Correct, but remember Legend says:

“I am so defenseless it’s pathetic. I’m a warrior, this is shameful.”

He is fully aware of how strong he is. And notice, he only talks about his strength in terms of weapons—he has absolutely no doubts about his emotional strength.

(Also, quick note: I like how Jojo uses the mirror to show us Legend’s face in this panel. She offers us a chance to sober up, to see exactly how this rabbit form has affected Legend and how he feels about it, and to take him seriously. She’s so clever!)

Also, “seems unaffected by his adventures, but keeps koholint his dark secret.” In other words, Koholint appears to be the only one his adventures he could not quite recover from. It was the only one that he could not just glean lessons from and then heal—it’s taking longer. But he’s clearly handling it well, and notice he doesn’t fight Twilight digging up the wound. He also doesn’t spill his whole secret willy-nilly.

He has no issues with being Hylian, with others seeing that he is only Hylian and he has emotions. He just also demonstrates incredible emotional maturity, in that he isn’t a blabber mouth.

To summarize: legend doesn’t push anyone away, he just conducts himself in a way we aren’t familiar with. He doesn’t spill his secrets because he doesn’t need to. And when he does, I’d bet my blog he’ll do it in a solid and intelligent way, not in a rush of tears and feelings because he’s been sick for seven days and he’s emotionally weakened. Legend also doesn’t feel a need to seem stronger than he is, because he knows his already incredible strength, and he also knows his weaknesses.

* * *

Okay, I think this is everything I’ve got right now XD sorry this took so long, it took my brain forever to get itself into shape. I hope this was at least semi-understandable hahaha

Thank you for reading!

[merbear25]

Hello, nice to meet you 😊

This is the first time I send you a request, I’ve seen your post about kinktober.

Can I please ask Day 15 with Hongo (the doctor of Red Haired pirates) x fem reader?

I hope it’s ok, thank you and have a nice day 😘

Hello, I was honestly nervous to write this because I don't know this character super well...But I tried my best! Hope you like it 💜🧡

There weren’t many that caught his attention, but ever since you joined the crew, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You carried yourself with grace, making your presence known whenever you entered the room. A marvel to behold, he couldn’t help but want to get to know you better.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem! Reader is a Red Haired pirate, sensation play (earplugs, blindfold), breast play, aftercare, protected sex

A pleasure that creeps up on you (Hongo)

Wandering souls were caught by the current where they’d either sink or be carried to shore. You showed resilience, taking the attempted chips at your structure in stride and never failing to rise above the rest. Any crew would’ve been lucky to have your talents aid in their personal adventures. However, with so many in it for the wrong reasons, morals clashed and you were left to fend for yourself time and time again.

An emperor's reputation, let alone his crew’s, was met with skepticism. Even with that, you were as charmed as the rest of the village when they washed on shore. Their friendly attitudes, inviting conversations, and charming stories: one could imagine themselves running off with people like them—and you did.

The shore you drifted up on turned out to be the Red Force—a ship that sailed from each and every corner of the world would become your forever home.

A lively party, drinks galore, nothing brought people together more than celebrations. With the Red Hair Pirates’s most recent success, there was no better reason to crack open a few cold ones.

Hundo casually drifted over to your side, which he did nearly every time there was reason to cheer. When he motioned to sling his arm around your shoulder, you lost your footing.

“Hey, now! Don’t want you hitting your head on something,” he poked light fun at your clumsiness while catching you. “Maybe it’s time you called it quits for the night?” He laughed.

“This is my first one! I’m not even buzzed!” Your attempt at salvaging your grace after such an embarrassing misfooting wasn’t hitting like you hoped it would.

With him getting a kick out of your pouting face, you gently slapped his arm. “Oi, you’re going to make me spill mine too if you aren’t careful!” He teased.

“Looks like you’ve already done that yourself.” You pointed at the drops of booze bleeding through his shirt.

Gulping down the mouthful swishing around, he grinned at you. “Suppose I should take it off then, huh?” He winked.

Your breath caught in your throat and you fiddled with the loose fabric on your pants when imagining him practically half-naked. As if he wouldn’t notice your flustered mess of a self.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words.” He continued, obviously flirting with you. “Not to worry, though.” He leaned in a bit closer. “I like you both ways just fine.”

A strange, distorted sound came out of you because of the inability to process your own emotions. Feeling the heat nipping at your face, you excused yourself to your sleeping quarters. Closing your door behind you, you lightly patted your face to shake yourself out of it.

“He’s a friend…a good friend! H-he was just teasing you…” That last part of your hush-toned monologue sat heavy on your heart.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Hongo asked with slight concern. Because you were taking too long to snap yourself out of your current state of butterflies, he cracked the door open. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, you–” you steadied your breath, “you didn’t.”

He held an attentive eye on your body language, so that if there was any sign that he was unwelcomed, he would back off. “Does this mean you don’t like me back?” The caution in his question nearly made your heart shatter.

“I do like you…I like you a lot actually,” your voice lowered and your eyes flickered across his face..

His eyes were locked on your lips, their slight quiver of uncertainty in his actions only made him want to claim them even more. He leaned in slightly, giving you a chance to deny him, but with no objections made, he quickly lost himself to the fires of passion.

You eagerly accepted his hunger with one of your own. His hands roamed over your body, wanting to touch every inch of you. As they went up your shirt, you whimpered against his lips—the circling around your nipples and the teasing tugs sent shivers down your spine.

“You like that?” Watching your eyes flutter shut from the heat rising between you, he whispered against your ear, “I can think of a few more ways to make you feel even better. Do you want that? Tell me you want it as badly as I do.” The faint pleading in his tone alluded to how long he’d been interested in you.

“Yes, I do…Want it so badly.”

He cupped the sides of your face, deepening your kiss to the point of making you weak in the knees. “I want to try something with you.” Guiding you onto the bed, he reached in your nightstand and pulled out the earplugs you slept with. 

“You know, when one of your senses is cut off, the others become far more sensitive.” He handed them to you. You started to put them in as he took off the scarf from around his waist. “Now, imagine when two of them are muted.” You let him tie the scarf around you, completely blocking your vision.

Your chest heaved from anticipation, and your gasp sounded so much sweeter when you felt him removing your blouse. Holding you closely, his tongue swirled around your hardened nipple. Sucking it, nipping at it to get any more of those darling moans out of you. His hands gripped at your waist and possessively raked down to your hips. Squeezing handfuls of your ass, he took your trembling as permission to go further.

Yanking your bottoms off, he swiftly lifted you and threw you higher up on the bed. Your shaky yelp from the sudden toss was giving him everything he’d been after. Climbing on top of you, the sight of your exposed body quaking from the expectation of what was to come lured a low groan out of him. Your soft hands reaching out to feel where he was further whetted his appetite for you.

He took one of your hands and pressed it to his lips. The kisses he trailed down your arm and to your neck had you begging for more. 

Reaching between your thighs, his fingers glided between your wet folds. Your body was good and ready for him—such a delicious moment to soak in.

Taking in one of your breasts in his mouth again, his finger swirled around your clit. He groaned against your sensitive skin as your whimpers graced his ears. Your fingers combed through his hair, caressing him while he made you fall apart effortlessly.

Plunging a finger into your aching core, just a few pumps had you panting like a bitch in heat. Leaning up to your sweet face, he lightly licked at your earlobe. The quaked moan was almost too much to bear.

“You’ve wanted this as much as I have, haven’t you?” His voice was husky from his own desire. You could barely make out his question—your own moans being amplified in your own fantasy of what was going to happen next.

He pulled out a condom, never daring to cum inside unless previously agreed upon. Even with his cock wrapped, filling you with his full length was just as satisfying as he ever imagined.

Your slick walls squeezing around him, the way your back arched pushing him deeper, and you blindly grabbing at his arms: there was no one he’d rather be with. He wrapped his arms around you, slamming into you with ruthless abandon while your sobs and moans filled the air around you.

His hands tangled in your hair, and he pressed his forehead gently against yours. Your pants entwined with his as he picked up the pace. The kiss he placed on your forehead made you whimper his name, and the feverish ones he trailed along the side of your face had you melting under him.

With your walls spasming around him, he knew you were hanging on by a thread. Your legs wrapped around him, your nails clawed at his back, and your cries were becoming increasingly more desperate.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You screamed for him. With your euphoric laced cries, his self-control was quickly waning. You could feel his body shaking against you as the need to give you everything he had was about to burst through the floodgates. 

In a choked grunt, he spilled every drop of himself. The pants of the both of you coming down from your shared high were almost as pleasing to the ear as the height of passion. Collapsing on top of you, he wrapped you in his arms for a moment. You both basked in the afterglow of your first time together, letting the moment wash over you as your bodies still tingled from the lingering rush. 

He removed your blindfold to gaze deeply into those beautiful eyes of yours. Such a lovely color and they were filled with so much affection—just for him. He placed a soft, tender kiss on your forehead, as if making a vow to you. When he pulled away to look at you again, you leaned up to meet his lips.

Letting your passion seep through in another kiss, the tenderness of this one made you swoon in a completely new way. He finally pulled out of you, not spilling a drop when tossing the condom into the trashcan and laid down next to your spent form. His hand ran up your thigh, massaging at the parts you gave a faint huff at.

He nuzzled his face in your hair, holding you close while your body recuperated. Your hands offered the same comforting touch, neither of you wanting that moment to end.

[italiansteebie]

Sometimes, Steve needs to hurt.

And before, when this would happen, he'd hurt those around him. He'd lash out, call them names, until they'd crack, and so would their fists on his body.

You'd think for a person who's lived through so much pain, that he would need peace, for once in his life.

But sometimes peace is too quiet, and he gets this itch under his skin, and he has to feel something. He needs the pain. Pain keeps him going, pain reminds him that he is useful because if he takes all the hits, the people he loves won't have to.

Right?

Until he can't keep up, and the pain he tries to keep for himself, leaks over onto the pages, the pages that he was supposed to keep clean. Keep safe from rips, tears, and spills, and he's failed.

And for a while, that pain keeps him at bay.

The reminder of failure on the faces of his friends twist the knife deeper into his heart, and he can feel again. Until, they've healed. And they can walk again, and suddenly, the pain ins't there anymore, just an empty promise he failed to keep.

So he bottles it up, letting the emotions build, because at least that way, he can feel something, and if he feels it, then it's real, right? It's real, and they still need him, and he can keep taking the hits for them because that is what he's good for.

And when he can't let his pain leak out onto the pages of others, he'd much rather contain it within himself.

So when a nearly healed Eddie Munson crawls through his window one night, exposed to the pain Steve had let engulf him, he's shocked. Because Steve Harrington of all people, should not be curled up in a big, empty bed, in a desolate room making soft whimpering cries like he's trying to hold himself together. "Steve?" He calls softly, watching as the shaking figure under the covers slowly comes to a stop. "E-Eddie?" In the darkness, Eddie can see him sit up, wiping the tears away, and putting on that oh so clever mask. "Eddie? What's wrong? Why are you here?"

"Well, I- I had a nightmare, but Stevie. Are you okay?"

And there's a tenderness in his voice that Steve hadn't heard since Nona Gloria had passed, and the walls come crashing down. "No." He whispers, allowing the darkness to be his shield. If Eddie can't see him, then it's not the vulnerable, right? But under the cover of darkness, Eddie slips his way under the covers, grabbing for Steve's hand. He shifts until he's facing Steve, watching as the words form on his lips. "If it's all over. Where-" Steve's breath gets caught in his throat, and he swallows. "If it's all over, what does that make me? Am I still... Needed?" And Eddie watches the tears build and eventually fall down Steve's face. "Oh, Stevie." Eddie soothes, reaching, pulling Steve into his warmth, even under the covers, the man is so cold.

And the quiet whimpers soon turn into sobs, and he cries. He wails for the loss of the life he could have had, and for the life he wants but can't have, and for once in his life, the emptiness feels a little better than pain.

"Thank you, Eddie," He whispers into the darkness, taking the hand that was still grasping his own, and pressing a soft kiss into it, allowing the darkness to let him be brave. "Always, Steve. Always," Eddie breaths back, pressing a kiss into Steve's t-shirt clad shoulder, returning the will to be brave.

[royal-wren]

In my love for her, I carried an apple from my many trees of such a vivid red like the heart that beats in the chest. Surely, there is no better way to grab the attention of the honey-toned goddess with a face most fair. My heart was captured the moment I saw her walk on the sea, shining more than the waters below her feet. If I can't woo her, I'll be at a loss for another handful of years.

With this, Hermes moved swiftly, quicker than anyone else, but not enough to dishevel. The cultivated fruit was cradled close to his chest while his heart fluttered wildly from excitement and adoration as the wind he commanded had him flying by. All the love, every emotion he felt was literally poured as magic into his work given physical form. One dream that haunted him for so long as the ram god did his best to ignore it before it felt like it was too much. Hermes' thoughts raced like his feet while he saw her come into view, golden and blinding in form. With her vision before him, he slowed without a sign he moved at the speed of sound.

"A gift for you, Queen of Heaven gowned in stars and jewels that you easily outdo. Though this apple falls short of matching your beauty, I hope it pleases you still," his arm outstretched for her to take the gift. A look of shock, as Aphrodite's face started to flushed as her gaze caught herself staring back on the apple's surface, "-How? It isn't every day I see myself reflected in food." Quizzically, she stared as Hermes' lips curled into a playful, teasing smile, "That's a secret." A little mystery was good for everyone, after all, and why share all his workings yet with her. "It holds every heartfelt thought, that's why it reflects the goddess of love and passion," he winked with the lie that came out like truth. What helped it spill out like a truth was the bit of honesty in how he felt, and with it said he stepped back and sat down. The decision of her accepting or rejecting the gift all on her, he could never dare to do more to push her decision, he cared too much about her honesty and freedom for that.

Aphrodite's lips parted ever so slightly in contemplation and his heart seized "I -- what else is there that comes with your physical gift? Tell me before I make up my mind on whether I draw close or flee fast." Endless were the gifts he had prepared with a number currently on him as he stood up and drew closer to her, a ball of light in his hand like a shrunk star. "The constellations and all the stars above that make them, what is old, new, and yet to exist." He affixed many like it like a crown of flowers through her illustrious hair, before slipping precious metals and a myriad of jewels into her hands that still held the apple. "Everything the earth has to give no matter how much you wish for, but most importantly, there is something more precious I can give."

His hand moved to hers, brushing against it, pausing for rejection as his face softened, "A friend in love. A companion to tell you all the honeyed words you long to hear, all the praise and song you deserve. From me and immortalized on the minds and tongues of mortals, sang endlessly and written for future generations to inspire. You will be the greatest Muse, the call of all songs and romantic, beautiful thoughts all others have until the end of time. Those that would be normally resist, untouched by your influence will have a chord struck in them with your inspiration a source of delight with my assistance."

Aphrodite made no move to turn away from him, to remove his presence from being so close to her, no attempt to escape Hermes' hand resting on hers still holding his gifts. "Let me hear the honeyed tongue that everyone regards and praises, promise me every sweet, adoring thought felt spoken for me no matter where you are. Swear it, be my companion, and only you will be the one to influence the scales of love with me." Her hand moved, unsatisfied by having his hand simply resting over hers and entwining her fingers with his. He kissed her hand, hearts singing between them as she had no intentions of letting go of his gift for now. "My oath upon the Styx to you, all we have promised to each other is now forever as long as you'll have me."

At that moment, Hermes let all the sealed love from the apple escape it, leaving her breathless and reeling as it sank in as he kept his promises between kisses, sweet touches, and the honeyed-tongue speaking words that were music to her ears as days continued to pass.

*Inspired by the PGM spell involving Hermes and Aphrodite, the tradition of wooing the person of your affections with an apple, best shown in the two poems at the bottom of this page. It also includes their cult worship as a couple and their art depictions together as Weighers of Love.