#i am witnessing something I shouldn’t | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notjustjavierpena · 1 month ago

Text

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter III

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I'm excited to bring to you the next chapter! Happy reading!

Chapter Summary: In which you experience your wedding night and an uncomfortable conversation takes place.

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, religion in the form of Roman Gods, shitty parents, anxieties over wedding night, virginity loss, female masturbation, handjobs, piv sex, praise kink, dirty talk, painful sex but also not painful sex, creampie, politics, Marcus gets angry

Word count: 9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/154904269

Chapter III: You're a woman and a wife now

After you enter the room, Marcus closes the door to his night chambers with a soft click. He secures it to give the two of you an illusion of privacy despite the many servants walking up and down the halls that now belong to you as well, cleaning the rooms of any signs of guests so that new people can relish in festivities tomorrow too.

“I noticed you regained your appetite. Did you like the feast?” He asks as he starts undoing his sandals with steadier hands than you can muster right now in your anxiety-riddled body, untying them where they stop just underneath his knees until he can step out of them completely.

“Your cook is better than ours,” you compliment with a little smile, your arms crossed over your chest until you can hug yourself with your palms on your back. You try to self-soothe like when you had first met but the thought of the wifely duties that lie ahead makes your heartbeat pound in your chest in a dizzying fashion.

“He is your cook now too,” he delves into small talk, trying to make a mundane situation out of something that so evidently weighs heavily on you. He is just about to continue when you hold up your hand to stop him, reluctantly having let go of yourself to signal that you wish to speak.

“Marcus,” you start in a soft voice without knowing where the sentence will go, doing the utmost to make sure that you are not sounding as if you are going to refuse to share a bed with him in case of evoking anger in him. He watches you curiously, graciously allowing you to interrupt him all the while you swallow the lump in your throat, “I must confess that I am nervous.”

You can barely get the sentence out before tears start to well up in your eyes, your throat constricting as you find yourself on the verge of crying. You reach for some of the fabric of your tunic, clutching it desperately as you hold a sob at bay.

Marcus looks at you with sympathy that shouldn’t surprise you but still does despite the moment you shared the last time you were alone with each other.

“What bothers you?” He asks despite knowing the answer already.

“Is it not obvious?” You ask with a whimper, “I am dreading the thing that all wives so desperately long for on their wedding night. I have been told stories of blood and cries, of men being cruel in their passion, and— I know that it is my duty, that this is as important as the ceremony itself but it scares me. What if my body simply isn’t made for this act?“

It is odd to confess something so personal to a near-stranger but you suppose that there is no point in tiptoeing around the fact that you are united in marriage which demands the deepest form of vulnerability towards each other. A tear manages to escape your eye and it rolls down until it drips off your chin.

“Carissima,” Marcus soothes gently. He dares walk to stand in front of you, his bare feet quiet on the cold floor and even though he can potentially reach out to put his hands on you, he does not, “Goddess Nox has given us plenty of time to take things slowly before dawn. These stories you have heard… I wish you would not think of me as such a brutal man. Our chambers are not a battlefield.”

You reach up with the back of your hand to swipe away the tears that have started to continuously fall from your chin, catching some on your cheeks before they even manage to go so far. You feel a pang of guilt at your assumptions because Marcus is right and the proof is in the way he kissed you so carefully yesterday when you had asked.

“I’m sorry,” you cry unhappily and stare down at your feet again, hating the way you come off as a scared child. You are married to a general of the great Roman Empire, meant to exude grace and strength even when the two of you are alone in your home. Your home. These chambers will forever be yours too.

“I know this is difficult but this is something we must do to start our lives together as man and wife,” Marcus coos back at you. He dares to put a hand underneath your damp chin to tilt your head up again, looking into your eyes with his own that seems to be miles deep with their brown color. You whimper but he shakes his head, “No more of that. I will not have you remember your first night in these halls with remorse and terror.”

His hand moves up to cup your whole cheek with how large his palm is, and as you feel his warm and gentle fingers on your skin, you close your eyes and lean into the same kind of touch that had made you explore yourself in bed last night. He smiles as you melt a little, “Very good, that’s it.”

Your eyes shoot open again as he praises you so effortlessly, a warmth spreading through your lower body at hearing words you have never heard from any man before. A tiny drop of need pools in your belly, making you bold enough to make a request, “Will you kiss me like yesterday? Perhaps then I might relax more.”

Marcus nods. You move to remove the crown of flowers that secures the veil covering your hair. You place it on one of the many marble surfaces in the room, handling it with the care that comes from your superstition as to what would happen if you were to tear it. You do the same with the veil, draping it across a chair while Marcus waits patiently. No tears fall from your eyes anymore.

You signal to him that you are ready and you don’t flinch as he leans close, the tip of his thumb resting underneath your chin while the rest of his hand is spread across your face. He pokes his nose into your cheek, pecking you there with featherlight touches of his lips before gently going inward to capture your mouth.

The kiss is even better than yesterday. It makes you release the fabric of your dress in an instant, your arms coming up instinctively to wrap around your husband’s shoulders. You kiss him back with a desire that must have been asleep in your body because it wakes up as fiercely as linen catching fire.

“What do I do?” You pant when he gives you a moment to breathe, your faces barely an inch apart. You might drown in his eyes.

“You trust me,” he replies without hesitation and you can do nothing but nod slightly, so eager to follow orders that it terrifies you a little. You feel his strong hands bunch up the fabric of your tunic that’s draping over your hips as he captures your mouth once more, a soft moan leaving you as his tongue slips past your lips.

He leads you towards the bed without pulling away. You can taste the honey and fruit from the dessert on his tongue, smell him when he forces you to breathe through your nose when his mouth does not leave yours. He smells faintly of scented oil that a servant probably recommended after a shave along his neck, of sweat and of himself, which you will fall asleep and wake up to for many days to come. He has you not worrying about yourself for even a second, not even when one of his hands reaches for the woven belt around your waist to undo it with utmost care.

It sways in the air as it falls to the floor, lying forgotten for the maids to clean up tomorrow. He allows you a breath when he breaks the kiss but he takes the air from your lungs once more when his hands touch your shoulders. You feel lightheaded as he slips the tunic off of them, the soft fabric slipping down your arms and chest until it catches on your hips. You have never been this exposed to anyone before, the slightly cooler air outside of your clothes making your nipples harden and catch Marcus’ attention. He admires your bare chest without words at first but it makes you hesitate, knowing how effortlessly he had complimented your appearance when you had first met. However, when you reach up to cover yourself, he shakes his head.

“You are radiant,” he praises and warmth goes to your face, eyes dropping to the floor at the idea that he might mean it wholly. You gain a shred of courage, pretending that you haven’t looked at the floor again by fixing your gaze on your skirt. You work the draping fabric over the swell of your hips, ripe for bearing children if that is what he should want, and let it pool around your feet. You have already had your blood this month, so you have no garments covering your sex. Suddenly, you are more exposed than you have ever even seen the depictions of Venus. Does he find you just as beautiful now that you are in nothing but the golden jewelry that your mother said he had sent?

Without word, your instincts guide you to sit down on the large bed and Marcus waits patiently while you crawl back on the linen sheets. You move your arms back to support yourself, bending your knees slightly but not daring to let your legs fall open like you know you probably should. You consider the pose of a siren, legs together like a tail and laying to one side to show off the curve of your body.

“Seems like Venus has favored you. I shall wonder how your father has kept you in his house for so long,” Marcus finally breaks the silence but only to make you smile shyly, stirring up a little laughter and shortness of breath in your chest. Cupid seems to have hit you square in the chest with his golden-tipped arrow, filling you up with desire for your new husband when he says praise so effortlessly.

“Are you going to join me now?” You ask, finding that nervousness is best fought by being direct. You gaze at his face to read him but you have no clue how these situations unfold, so you are unable to read his mind and foresee his next move.

“You will not be ready,” he shakes his head. You narrow your eyes as you ponder what he means, watching him undo the knot of red fabric on his shoulder to slip off the top layer of his toga. He hangs it on the chair next to your matching veil.

“Ready? But I am in your bed,” you let him know of your confusion. When he turns around to face you once more, you gasp at the sight of his sex, the length of it. He is visible through the toga now that the top layer isn’t covering him up anymore. His cock is outlined by it from the way he has gotten hard in response to seeing you naked, a thing you knew was going to happen but never could have imagined what looked like.

“Come closer,” he says as he stands by the end of your bed. His tone has changed a little but you cannot confirm whether it has to do with him being aroused underneath the remnants of his clothes. It seems like a command now, so you follow through with a pounding heartbeat until your heels are pressing into the mattress right at the edge of the bed.

“What did you mean?” You ask.

“When you are alone,” he begins but the tone of his voice is still to the gentler side, his hand reaching out and hovering above your knee. He makes you gasp as he grabs it, carefully pulling it outwards until the most private part of your body exposes itself to him. His eyes only look down briefly, “Do you touch yourself here? Between your legs?”

You glance away quickly as your heart leaps into your throat. The images of last night flood through your mind and you feel embarrassed, so you shake your head in response, “No, of course not.”

“I don’t believe your words for a second, Carissima,” he chuckles, his dominant hand going up your thigh until he removes it altogether to catch your wrist. He moves your hand to rest between your thighs, “Show me what you do.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you have been holding, feeling the warmth of your cunt against your fingers and how it aches for you to caress the spots you like the most. Your pulse is everywhere now but mostly centered around your clit, the pearl-shaped nub that you have explored just the night before.

“I don’t do it long,” you babble nervously as you start to touch gently between your legs, two fingers rubbing in gentle circles over your clit. It makes you gasp a little, the sensations in your lower body heightened by being in another person’s proximity as you touch yourself, “I always stop right before… before something happens.”

“There’s no need to stop. Something beautiful happens when you keep going and get to that pinnacle,” Marcus teaches you with a kind expression, moving his hand to push your other leg out to the side. You are opened up to him like a lotus flower but he still doesn’t seem like he will move on top of you yet, crush you with his weight, and fall asleep afterward with horrible snoring that your sisters have joked about.

You start to feel familiar wetness increase between your legs, your fingers gliding over your cunt easier and making you speed up your touches as the pressure increases. Marcus sees it from the way your slit glistens in the dim light of the oil lamp on the nightstand. He encourages you, his cock even more prominent underneath his clothes, “If you have touched between your thighs, you will know of what I speak. I see it now, the signs of your body welcoming intrusion by making itself warm and wet for me. It will feel like you are missing something… I assure you that I will give it.”

You furrow your brow at those words while you stroke yourself and feel a flutter of pleasure intense enough to make you moan, Marcus’ eyes dropping to his own lap where his length twitches. He readjusts himself with a soft groan and then something clicks. You do feel exactly like he said, perplexed by why you have not noticed the gaping emptiness all the other times you have done this.

Experimentally, you reach lower to prod a finger at your entrance and you groan at the way it slips effortlessly inside yourself. You aren’t sure what to do next, letting the finger stay still inside of you as you get used to the unusual pressure, but the heel of your hand starts grinding down onto your clit in earnest.

Marcus steps a little closer at the temptation you bring him with your growing pleasure. He squeezes your thigh and you nearly laugh in surprise when you can feel your walls squeezing your finger, “Will I not hurt you if I… grip you with my…”

You cannot say any of the words you know. Cunt, heat, sex. It somehow feels more exposing, more intimate in a way than the physical gestures you are performing for him. You hear him laugh but his eyes are not cheerful when you find them, instead, they’re dark with lust and you squeeze your digit again.

“On the contrary,” he touches himself on top of his toga, his stomach rising and falling faster than just a moment ago when he didn’t have a hand on himself, “It’ll feel like I was made for nothing else.”

There’s the familiar gathering inside of your belly. Sweat prickles at your skin, pleasure steadily blossoming from inside of you as you reach a point of no return. This would be where you would stop back home, leaving you sensitive and emotional as you forced sleep onto yourself. This time, you chase the feelings that terrify you.

You feel like the most fragile person ever; like you are made of clay that might shatter at any moment. You clutch at the sheets with your free hand, Marcus’ eyes sure to make you succumb to how brittle you are as he watches intensely. You bite your bottom lip, a small whimper escaping you as you teeter on what you have always shied away from.

“Don’t stop,” he urges when you hesitate for less than a second. His breathing is ragged now, synchronized with your own as you suddenly realize that you are doing the same thing. He seems better at controlling it than you, “Let it come, so we can enjoy each other.”

You cannot breathe, snapping for air as you press a little harder on your hard clit. You want to squeeze your eyes shut but then you’ll miss the look on Marcus’ face as he sees you come undone, so you power through and, and… and—

A cry of surprise and pleasure leaps from your chest as you find release. You lift your hips to meet your hand, your index finger slipping out of you as you instinctively know to focus on your pulsing clit. It is like nothing you have ever felt before, going on for several maddening seconds where you don’t know whether to chase more or stop when you can do nothing but tremble from the sensation.

The linen on the bed is wet underneath you and a cockiness within you tells you that you could handle him tenfold if you wanted. You are disoriented by the heat ebbing out of your body, leaving you in a state of daze and a mix of emotions that you cannot fathom has nothing to do with the wine during the feast. You let your hand rest on your stomach, feeling your panting underneath it and suppressing a giggle that bubbles up all the way from your belly.

“Will it be like that every time?” You ask and stretch your legs to let your feet hang out over the edge.

“It can be,” he replies with slight amusement, hiding a lopsided grin. He is standing with his knees brushing against the bed, having itched to get as close as possible without overwhelming you and perhaps scaring you off. He lets your foot brush his toga, “However it might get better with time and practice.”

You stare at him in disbelief, not sure if you believe that there’s something even better awaiting you somewhere in your future. You stare down between his legs where he must be aching like you’ve been several times in the past. You are already aware that you are wrong in the assumptions you have about pleasure because you’ve learned so much in less than ten minutes. How will it feel when he gives it to you?

“Can I touch you?” You boldly ask and slowly find the confidence to sit up, feet planted on the floor. You are so close to his lap, “When you are undressed?”

“You can,” he nods, not able to hide the surprise on his face as you look curious above all else. He undoes the belt around his waist and lets it clatter to the floor, and you watch with nervous breath how he lets his own garments slip from his body until the whole of him is revealed. It is fascinating to see a man like this, much different from the statues around Rome and particularly where you sometimes have felt scared to look.

He steps between your knees, looking down at you and the height difference should be intimidating but is not. Instead, there’s the calming reassurance of being watched and guided as you lift your hand to rest your palm on the softness of his stomach. He has muscles there, just a little less toned than what the working men back at the village sport. His arms are what hold his tremendous strength, the effects of carrying a sword or spear on the battlefield. He is gorgeous, you think to yourself while curiosity and unexpected heat stir in your loins.

Your eyes wander while your palm skims lower. They follow the sculpt of his torso, a long scar weaving itself around his hip distracting you until your gaze settles on the sight of his erect cock. It is much larger than you expected - thick, long, and intimidating but somehow also beautiful - and the thought of it entering you brings new anxiety to your body and mind.

“You are nervous,” he points out, chest rising and falling slowly as you explore the fine hair on his skin which becomes thicker the further down on his abdomen they are. You run your nails through the trail just below his navel, looking up as his cock jumps at the contact.

“I try not to be. I’d rather be curious,” you tell him, finally bold enough to touch him where he is hard and straining. You wrap your fingers around his generous girth. He is warm in your hand as you stroke him lightly to simply feel the weight of him and it takes little else before he lets out a low, appreciative groan. The confidence his response gives you makes your mouth water but despite what your brain tells you to do, that seems over the line right now.

Instead, you look up at him with big eyes as you continue in a rhythm that he seems to like because you can hear the catch of his breath. You think he might stop you when he covers your hand with his own but instead, he adds slight pressure to guide you in how he likes to be touched.

You hadn’t thought this was how everything would go down. There’s a strange form of equality between the two of you when you are naked together, a comfortable feeling in your chest at the idea of a whole night of giving and taking pleasure from each other being before you. What you had gathered from what Cassius so disgustingly had tried to explain to you whenever you were by the river alone, it was supposed to be a cruel act for the woman. This is not cruel.

Eventually, Marcus’ breathing has become labored and you know that he is within reach of his own pleasure. However, he tightens his grip on your hand to slow down your movements much to your confusion.

“You’re a quick learner, almost too quick,” he says with a warm chuckle, removing your hand from his cock. There’s a bead of clear liquid at the tip, threatening to drip down onto your thigh. The room somehow smells sweeter when the both of you have been so close to experiencing a peak together.

“Why did you stop me?” You ask curiously and let your hand drop to your lap. You can still feel his warmth radiating from his heated skin, it glowing with a sheen of sweat already.

“I don’t want this to be over yet,” he explains with a few controlled breaths that seem to calm him. His jaw clenches as if he is in pain but he doesn’t sound like you have done anything wrong, “And it will be if I lose myself.”

“Am I… are we ready now?” You question once more.

“Lie back,” he orders with a nod. You do as you are told and he joins you on the bed with confident grace, as if he has done this a million times before, the mattress dipping underneath him. Gently, he pushes on your chest to make you lie down on your back. When you are comfortable, he lies down next to you with his body turned towards you.

You see him come closer and meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his in a kiss even deeper than the first you’ve shared with him. He makes a noise of approval at your eagerness, cupping your face with a single giant hand while you cup the back of his head with both of your own. You try to initiate more kisses but suddenly his lips descend to your throat, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he pecks along the sensitive skin of your collarbone too. You start to feel impatient for another high with him, another peak of pleasure to dance its way through your veins.

“Marcus,” you say with your fingers in his hair, “I’m ready.”

“Let me make sure,” he says while the hand on your face settles on your thigh instead. He rakes his fingernails across your skin when he goes inwards, causing you to gasp at the idea of what he means. Are you wet for him? Yes, you are. You know you are.

Two fingers slide between your legs. He parts your thighs slightly to gain more access and then simply feels the slick that has been dripping from your cunt since you kissed him fully clothed. A gasp leaves you at the feeling of being touched by a man in a place that you’ve been told is your most private. In return, a smile spreads across his face and a satisfied hum escapes him.

“You’re ready,” he whispers with his gaze fixed on you. Teasingly, he holds his fingers up before you and turns his wrist so you can see your wetness shine in the light. He then puts his digits in his mouth and licks them clean, to which you want to hide your face with a squeak. He describes you as ripe and sweet, juicy like the peaches in the Summer, all the while he shifts his weight and positions himself between your thighs.

Feeling him like this - the skin of his rough thighs, the coarse hairs that feel nothing like yours as they grace your softness - makes a fresh wave of nerves wash over you. It feels like there’s suddenly a very short time to prepare for what you have come to understand will be a transformative experience. You start to tremble, looking down between Marcus’ legs and wondering how on Earth you are supposed to allow him into your body. Above you, you hear him say your name but it sounds like you’ve been trapped inside a bell jar.

“We will go slow,” he promises when you look like a hunted doe. He has placed his hands on your thighs to soothe you, letting his calloused palms skim up and down your skin, but you tense up even more since he has barely touched you before. You swallow as he goes on, “You will guide me with your comfort. If anything hurts, I promise it’ll only be for a moment.”

“You will stop if I tell you to?” You ask with uncertainty. A part of you already knows that you will try to power through no matter the pain.

“Yes,” he promises and removes his hand again when he realizes its effect on you. He places it on your chest instead, feeling your unsteady breaths underneath it, “But I need you to relax, Carissima. Take a deep breath and tell me what you fear.”

You do as he says, heaving for a large mouthful of air that makes your heartbeat settle down slightly as it fills your lungs. For once, you don’t shy away from his gaze as you talk about lying with him in such explicit terms. You chew your bottom lip after a few breaths, “What if it doesn’t fit?”

Marcus laughs and you feel embarrassed. He shakes his head as he notices, leaning over you to hover just above your lips. You hold onto the arm on your chest as he reassures you, “It’ll fit, I promise on the Gods. Your body and mine were made for this; for the act of making beautiful children.”

You decide to be brave and kiss him now that he is so close, and slowly, as you taste his mouth again, you tangle together in a way that makes sense for what you are about to do. Marcus is close enough to map out every detail of your face, one hand on your hip and the other resting just above your head. You, on the other hand, have grabbed both his bare shoulders, holding onto him tight enough for your fingertips to dent his skin. He has promised that it will be okay if you scratch him with your nails, that he, if he is completely honest, likes that sort of thing.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you say with determination, feeling the way Marcus lets go of your hip to run his fingers through your folds again. You moan softly as he lets his hand gather wetness, your eyes going down to watch him take his cock in hand and smear it with slick.

“Don’t look down there, look at me,” he guides you gently as he prods against your slit. You force yourself to meet his eyes again, a gaze in them that holds a mix of desire and restraint. He takes a deep breath that is followed by him starting to push forward, the feeling so intense that you whimper while keeping eye contact.

“Shh,” he soothes during the initial sensation. There's a painful sting as the head stretches your walls that have never known such intrusion. It makes you breathe rapidly and shudder from discomfort until a cry leaves you when you are breached. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as it burns. It’s a feeling that you can’t describe, a fullness that feels unnatural and natural at the same time. He pushes beyond the thick head and it makes you tighten around him, so much he has to still completely. He looks angry but he isn’t, his teeth gritted as he continues to push despite the danger of finishing, “You’re tight around me, try to relax.”

“S-sorry,” you attempt to follow his instruction, try focusing on the exciting intensity of his gaze, the delicious way he looks at you because he wants you. His weight on you is so heavenly, his skin is warm against yours that is riddled with goosebumps despite not being cold, and the sound of his breathing reminds you of the way your own breath is rapid when you pleasure yourself.

Yet when you seem to think that the worst is over, he goes a little faster with feeding you his cock and the pain intensifies by blooming into something more sharp. The air inside your lungs feels trapped as your breath hitches but you force it out until it releases into a pained cry. Mostly, you just want to stop but you’re reminded that this has to happen if the marriage is to be successful and legitimate. So instead, you clutch at Marcus’ shoulders and whine.

“Am I hurting you?” He asks, resting his forehead against yours and stilling his hips. You nod at first but then shake your head quickly afterward, unable to speak in case you’ll sob. He doesn’t seem convinced, “I’ll try moving. I won’t go further in before you can handle it.”

You nod in approval, your heart beating so fast it is making your mind feel clouded. He begins to move with gentle, shallow thrusts of his hips, his eyes glued to you in search of anything that might tell him that it’s too much. The first few moments have you thinking that you might split in half but you find that the repeated fill of your cunt makes everything turn into a dull ache as you get used to it. Your noises are pained yet soft, soon switching to quiet moaning as he moves inside of you.

“Doing so well,” he praises as you welcome him further without thinking. A sensation that you had thought would only be painful has kickstarted a different kind of feeling. It’s a warmth that spreads through your lower body, pleasure that mixes in with the rest in an almost insistent way. Marcus makes a noise that makes you clench around his cock, and he finds your mouth in a messy kiss, “I’m almost all the way in. It’s supposed to feel good. Does it feel good?”

You nod repeatedly as you feel connected to him in a way that you never thought you would with another person. He is so deep inside of you and the discomfort that you thought would persist is fading away fast, leaving only a tug of pleasure that tightens more and more. You close your eyes and squeeze them shut as you moan a little louder for the first time.

Without control of your body, your hips rise up to meet his and he fucks you a little harder. The friction is significantly more intense than what you have felt alone, but you can feel its effects mixing with your previous orgasm’s warmth. The room fills with the lewd sounds of your shared breaths and the scent of sex.

Marcus’ hand settles on your hip, his incredible strength hauling your leg over his own hip so he can switch up the angle. Meanwhile, his other hand reaches down and pushes hard down on the back of your thigh to open you up even further to him. He stretches so his upper body towers over you and rolls his hips with controlled desire, mouth hanging open a little in his breathless state as he concentrates on making the pain disappear completely.

It does a moment later. An involuntary moan leaves you when the head of his cock slides over a spot that seems different from every other place inside of you. Your eyes fly open after having been squeezed shut for so many seconds, fireworks going off in your peripheral vision. Your gaze moves down between your bodies to see a faint trace of red on his cock, setting your heartbeat into overdrive. You should be shoving him off now that you are bleeding but what the hell felt so good? He hits the same spot once again to make you cry out and crane your neck.

“You like that? Was that all I had to do?” He asks with a satisfied smirk, breathing raggedly on top of you as he treats you to even more of the same pleasure. You want to come again, your hips rising to meet his thrusts more insistently if it means him giving you pleasure like that over and over again without fail. As your pleasure starts building into another peak, a shocked laugh leaves you.

“How do you… How did you—?“ You start.

“I knew where I wanted to reach. Feel that? That spot is made for feeling good,” he explains with a voice rough with his own pleasure before you manage to finish your inexperienced question, “I wanna hit that over and over, fill you up so you can feel it there for days when I’m done.”

“Don’t stop,” you groan.

“I’m not going to,” he promises but instincts tell you to make sure, that if he even falters a little, you’ll feel the frustration of no release like you have since you discovered what is between your legs. You tighten your thighs around his hips, locking your ankles around the small of his back and the move makes Marcus growl.

He, who you are ready to call a master in the art of love, leans down over you and drives into you like a wild animal. You whimper but it isn’t of pain, the familiar feeling of ecstasy building rapidly between your legs again. He feels huge inside of you, the whole length of him throbbing against your overstretched walls.

And he kisses you, seemingly not in control of himself anymore when he feels the same pressure in his lower abdomen. It is messy and sweet and rough at the same time, your hands cupping his face until they automatically slide up into his hair. You can feel his chest rub against your breasts, your nipples more sensitive than they ever have been and you moan as a fact runs through your head. No man has ever been this close to you before. Only the sun’s rays or the clouds’ rain has been this close to you.

You come once more with this thought in your mind, the intense and warm feeling hitting you as suddenly as the snapping of a dry twig found in the sun. You arch your back with a groan, feeling it even deeper inside of you than before because it seems to be the spot inside of you that has triggered it.

“Oh! Oh Gods,” you moan into the air, Marcus’ lips having descended to your now-exposed neck and kissing with the same fervor as he had your mouth. His own noises have grown in volume, his cock seeming to respond to how your heat clenches around it. You have tears coming down your face without knowing why; you aren’t upset but rather quite the opposite. Everything below your navel is sensitive, slick, and used up.

You feel it as he goes rigid as you have just done, a rough growl leaving him as he has his own orgasm. However, you instantly realize that Cassius forgot to mention something in his horrible renditions of love-making; the sticky, warm waves that come along with a man’s ultimate pleasure. You gasp in shock, looking down between the two of you as Marcus fills you up with his seed.

You cling to him, your hands grabbing at whatever they can while you whimper, and you stare at the milky white ring that forms around his length. He keeps going for a few thrusts more, and the noises coming from your connected bodies are on the verge of making you embarrassed. It’s squeaky and wet, but it’s not making you want to pull away. Instead, it makes you reach up to cup Marcus’ face so you drag his lips to your mouth and kiss him, the sensation of his seed inside of you making you feel more connected than ever.

You kiss for a moment before your husband buries his face in your neck. He leaves you empty when he softens, eliciting a weak gasp from you when you become aware of the sticky wetness smearing your inner thighs. Marcus pants against your already burning skin and chuckles without any particular reason. You are in awe of what has just happened, seeming to somehow know that this was the completion of the act.

This act, once so unfamiliar and feared, now feels like a revelation to you. The new dimension of pleasure, so uniquely intense and intimate, makes you wonder how anyone gets anything done when they can do this all the time. You are sticky with sweat, dizzy with tears and pleasure, and by the Gods, you want to do it again and again with him. He will not leave this bed until you get tired of feeling this way between your legs. You think of commanding him this but you are already aware that it is an impossibility. He would probably laugh at you but given the way he lifts his head and looks at you now, he might also follow through on your order by sinking back into the mess between your legs.

You miss his weight on you when he rolls off, the both of you staring towards the ceiling. The room becomes very quiet in the aftermath, torches and candlelight flickering around you. You have a hand on your chest, trying to calm your racing heartbeat to no avail and breathing rapidly to catch your breath. Your whole body buzzes, feeling like it is aglow and warm, and you dare sometimes look at your husband out of the corner of your eye. He looks the same but less surprised by the state he is in, clearly experienced and you find it all enticing when everything inside you has shifted.

You let your back and legs relax fully into the bed. Marcus watches as you stretch your body, and there is some kind of tension between you that you cannot put into words. You know it stems from the silence that is also between you, an unspoken game of who breaks it first, and when you dare peek at him, you find him staring right back at you. Your heart rate spikes once more but Marcus holds your gaze in a way that makes you unable to look away.

“Are you alright?” He asks after a beat. You see him look at you with a softness that reflects how vulnerable you must look right now. He reaches out to take your hand, brushing your knuckles with his thumb, “You are not in pain?”

“No. I– I’m fine,” you shake your head. You say the words and realize that they are true even despite your uncertainty at first. For now, your body feels afloat but you have a gnawing feeling that it won’t last. A thought enters your mind, “What do we do now? I mean, what does one do after being together like this?”

“Well, given our roles and the expectations placed upon our union, there’s a thing that I would like to do. I’d like to help you arrange yourself comfortably if you’ll allow me,” he gently releases your hand and shifts to sit upright beside you.

You give him a puzzled look, not sure what he is talking about but you nod. It’s natural to trust him, you find, and his proposition intrigues you, “Yes, of course.”

Marcus reaches for the pillow against the headboard on his side of the bed. He fluffs it with care before patting your thigh, causing you to follow your instincts and automatically lift your pelvis towards the ceiling. When you have given him the room for it, he slips the soft pillow underneath your hips to elevate them, resulting in them laying comfortably at a gentle angle.

Afterwards, he lies back down beside you but this time with his body facing yours. You try to smile at him but there’s embarrassment in your chest as the intention behind his act becomes clear. However, even as he senses your vulnerability, your new husband simply reaches for your hand again to kiss your knuckles. It is soft and intimate, it is kind reassurance in your time of transition.

A moment after, he guides you to rest your palm just below your navel and places his own on top of it, caressing where new life may spring after tonight if Goddess Juno has the both of you in her favor.

"The pillow will help," he says quietly as he gently feels the soft skin on your stomach, the skin made to carry a child, "To ensure that our union bears fruit. Our alliance is only strong if I put a baby in your belly."

The words remind you of how your partnership is a part of something much bigger than yourselves, something to do with your father’s power and greed that you aren’t sure if Marcus feels too. Yet despite the impersonal nature of your union, the General’s tone is gentle and speaks of more than just mere duty.

“And while we wait? What then?” You question, daring to entwine your fingers and feeling your chest flutter when he doesn’t protest.

“We may rest…” He suggests with a smile, “Or, if you prefer, we may talk. It is different in every marriage.”

There’s something about the way he words it that makes you feel more secure in your situation, that even if this is new territory, he is giving you permission to join in on shaping your relationship.

You nod, “I think I would like to talk.”

“Then talk we shall,” he agrees without question, “Tell me something about yourself.”

You let go of his hand to place both palms on your stomach, looking to the ceiling as you reminisce about the life you have left behind back home. You tell him about the river all over again, about the sparkles the sun leaves on the surface of it, so beautiful it makes it seem like you can pick them with your bare hands. You tell him about wine and bread from the market, about a secret orange tree that you think only you and your sisters know of, and then you tell him about your sisters who all married for love.

The latter makes Marcus shift slightly. A fleeting expression crosses his face before he gently clears his throat and gives you a small, hesitant smile to reassure you, “Do you think you’ll be happy here?”

You take a moment to mull it over. You don’t want to lie to him but he looks so hopeful and sad at the same time, “I suppose that there’s always going to be a part of me that is going to wonder what would have happened if I had followed my own path and married someone I was deeply in love with, but I hope I will find happiness here. Perhaps it would have been you anyway, you never know. I would be as lucky as my sisters then.”

You say the last sentence with a twinkle in your eye, a soft and playful smile on your face, and Marcus looks almost shy, the importance and duty that he usually carries crumbling. You take the opportunity to see further under the surface, “And what about you? Do you have family that you are close to? I couldn’t help but notice that there were no formal introductions at the festivities.”

He hesitates briefly before answering, “My parents passed when I was merely a child. Thus the military became my family in many ways. I’ve always admired their dedication to each other. The responsibilities for the men I command seem like the next closest thing.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” you say sincerely, touching his wrist gently, “I suppose it explains your dedication.”

He looks modest as he smiles, “I suppose it does.”

There’s a comfortable silence in the large chamber. Marcus looks down at your hand, opening his palm to invite you to place your own in it. You take his hand without hesitation and it feels natural, a thing so calming and warm, which invites you to venture further into his world.

“May I ask you something?” You ask.

“Of course,” he replies.

“Our conversation was interrupted earlier by one of your men, and I wanted to ask what was whispered in your ear. I hope I am not intruding—“ You tiptoe into the conversation, hoping your curiosity doesn’t come off too strong.

He interrupts you, waving a hand dismissively, “We are husband and wife. I support the idea that we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.”

“Yes. Yes, I quite agree with that,” you say with relief in your voice, “So you’ll tell me?”

“There was some unrest in the city today. The man was one of my men telling me that there’d been an incident - a confrontation - in one of the town squares. It led to the death of two of my soldiers.”

You gasp, “Gods! That’s terrible!”

“The loss is shameful and upsetting, yes, but the people are hungry,” he explains simply, “Even the smallest of disputes can escalate when tensions are high. When one feels unheard by leaders, one can be driven to acts one might never have considered before.”

“But surely Rome’s subjects know better than to challenge Roman authorities?” You note with your brows furrowed, suddenly finding yourself speaking words that you have heard too many times around the dinner table at your childhood home, "A firm hand might be necessary to keep the peace. If the people are allowed this kind of behavior towards the empire - and thus the emperors - they might sometimes need to be reminded of their place."

There’s a shift so small that you could almost miss it in Marcus’ expression but disappointment clouds his eyes. You notice it because he follows it by subtly slipping his hand out of yours. He measures you with his gaze for a moment, “You don’t truly believe that instilling fear with unyielding force is the right way to rule?”

You sense his disapproval and feel embarrassed flood your system. With warm cheeks, you sit up and stutter a reply, "I... I suppose that's what I've been taught. My father always says that strength and control keep the empire strong and unwavering."

“And if I ask you to look past your upbringing?” He says it casually but there’s a command in his voice. Suddenly, the security you had felt moments ago is washed away by the feeling of being a mere little girl.

You look down at your hands, not able to keep eye contact despite how close you have just been, "I didn't mean to offend. I don’t— I don’t think I have ever taken the time to consider other perspectives. My father has given little room for such discussion."

“Is that so?” He raises a brow, “And does he seek influence in Rome’s leadership?”

"Yes," you reply hesitantly, still yet unaware of the implications of your words, "He hopes that our marriage might help him gain favor, perhaps even become an advisor to the emperors."

“It seems like your father was unaware of the fact that I served under Maximus Decimus Meridius, a man who believed in ruling with honor instead of fear. He would have done himself a favor by seeking alliances elsewhere if he aligns himself with ruling through oppression. Perhaps he should have married you off to the emperors themselves,” he says firmly, jaw tight and words filled with frustration, tingeing on angry. They come out a lot more venomous than you think are his intentions yet they sting nonetheless and you have to bite your lip to keep tears at bay.

“I didn’t— I’m sorry, I was just repeating what I have always heard,” you stammer, swallowing around a lump in your throat. The vulnerability of your situation suddenly crashes over you like a wave trying to drown you, making you choke on a sob as his hard gaze scrutinizes you. You are young, barely out of childhood, and thrust into the role of a wife. You have never been expected to relay your views to anyone let alone a commanding general of the highest order in Rome.

For a moment, an uncomfortable silence fills up the growing distance between you. You try to shift away on the bed but there’s a sudden ache between your legs from the previous activities of your wedding night. It’s shameful to look back at him but you have no one else to turn to right now. A tear escapes your eye but you find the courage to say what you need to say even if it is with a dizzying heartbeat, “My whole life, I have been taught to be obedient, to serve along with my sisters. My mother even. I don’t know who I am outside of that.”

Marcus suddenly mirrors your expression of shame, evidently grappling with his own emotions behind his eyes. He gently lifts his hand to catch the tear running down your face until it threatens to drip down from your chin.

“Forgive me, I should not have raised my voice at you,” he says sincerely. He cups your cheek with a softening demeanor and you allow him, needing the affection and this is where you can receive it, “I know you have your concerns but I hope you can entertain the idea that this union might not just be a different cage.”

You nod, leaning your cheek into his gentle touch and earning a smile. There’s a promise beneath his words and despite everything, you allow yourself to feel hopeful. This man is not your father, actually far from it, and he is offering you something you are not used to; partnership and respect.

Instead of answering him, you chew on your bottom lip and try to find the same courage that made him apologize so you can address the ache in your lower body. The pillow under your legs is all askew. You try to busy yourself by straightening it, “It has started to hurt where you…— Is that normal?”

"It can be," he says gently, and the hand on your cheek goes to skim over your bare thigh in an attempt to soothe, "Your body needs time to adjust and recover.”

You pout as you automatically lie down again. You look like a child not getting their way, “Time to recover? Does this mean we can’t do it again?”

Marcus’ expression flashes with amusement at your eagerness. He raises a brow, “Eager, aren't we? I admire your enthusiasm, but it's important that you give yourself time to heal. Rest might help.”

“Surely there's something else we can do?” You only just abstain from pleading him, tilting your head.

“This, my dear wife, was your husband's subtle way of saying goodnight,” Marcus chuckles quietly and you find that all tension has slipped from the room once more. He dips down to kiss your forehead, the tip of his nose skimming down the length of yours. He stares into your eyes, only an inch from you, “Say it.”

You smile and kiss him softly, “Goodnight, Marcus.”

“Goodnight, Carissima,” he whispers.You go to sleep next to your general, the man who is slowly becoming the commander of your heartbeat, unaware that your conversation has changed the course of your father’s future gains from your powerful marriage.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

371 notes · View notes

grimmweepers · 14 days ago

Text

— ☆ 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: alhaitham wants to cheer you up by giving you a cake but, much to his dismay, he discovers he’s not very good at baking

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader, modern au, established relationship, fluff, slice of life, comfort, baking, you call him baby, he might be a lil ooc 1.2k wc. | masterlist

a/n: important!! this piece is for the @pixelcafe-network’s secret santa exchange and it is my gift to @ariiadnes <3 surprise little elf, i am your santa >:) hehe that was me on anon. i welcome anybody to enjoy it but i’m just prefacing that i wrote this with my little elf in mind so this is personalised and will include some details specific to our kay ^_^ thank you to the pixel cafe for organising something so sweet <3 happy holidays!

p.s there is an extra surprise at the end 🤭

The sudden clang of the rolling pin meeting the floor made Alhaitham pause mid-motion. He regarded the rogue tool with a glare as though it had a personal vendetta against him. If baking was a dance of trial and error, it appeared Alhaitham was hopelessly out of step.

This shouldn’t be so difficult, he thought, bending down to retrieve it with a sigh.

What had started as a bold plan to cheer you up was devolving into a textbook case of kitchen disaster. His countertops bore signs of his struggle: a battlefield of flour, sticky smears of frosting, and a timer that had long since been silenced, marking the hours he had spent here. A slightly concerning scent wafted from the oven, where a deflated Snoopy cake mocked his attempts, its ears drooping in defeat.

All his brilliance yet his intellect failed him in the kitchen. The art of baking required nuances he hadn’t yet mastered—the understanding of texture, temperature, and timing. These were variables that no theorem or formula could solve. He glanced at the instructional video on his phone, the cheerful baker’s voice grating against his fraying patience.

‘Step one: don’t overfill the pan,’ he recited in his head, lips thinning as he stared at the mess in the oven. “A bit late for that.��

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his brooding. It was a message from you:

“Done for the day! Heading home soon. Love you <3.”

Alhaitham paused, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He could easily picture the exhaustion in your face as you typed the message. You’d been weathering the storm of clinical rotations, coursework, and sleepless nights to reach the summit of your master’s program. He’d witness you lose sleep over exams, spend weekends buried in textbooks, and wake before dawn to attend hospital shifts.

He’d also notice the fatigue in your voice, how you napped more often to catch up on rest, and the stress you tried to hide when things got overwhelming.

Even in your exhaustion, you still managed to grace him with a smile. There was something admirable about how your heart endured, how you found space for joy despite the weight you carried. He knew he couldn’t ease your responsibilities, but he could remind you that you weren't facing it all alone.

His gaze shifted to the Snoopy figurine he’d bought for inspiration, perched on the counter like a silent overseer of this culinary misadventure. No turning back now.

Alhaitham began to roll up his sleeves and pick up the piping bag.

For you, he was willing to stumble through every misstep.

Drawing Snoopy’s outline with frosting proved no easier than taming the batter. Alhaitham leaned in close, expression sharpening, and the tip of his tongue peeked out in concentration (a face no one but you might ever see from him). As he worked, his mind whispered doubts, yet his hands persisted.

Steadfast, if imperfect.

———

By the time you stepped through the front door, the scent of burnt sugar lingered in the air. The apartment, to your surprise, looked untouched—eerily pristine, even. Nothing seemed to have moved ever since you left the house this morning.

No hint of chaos. Yet.

“Haitham~?” you called out, kicking off your shoes. “What’s that smell? Did you… light a candle or something?”

“In the kitchen,” came his reply, his voice betraying none of his current predicament.

You rounded the corner, and the first thing you noticed upon entering was the stillness. Alhaitham stood near the counter, as composed as always, except for the flour dusting his hair and a smear of frosting on his cheek.

The second thing you noticed was the cake. Or what you assumed was meant to be a cake. Snoopy, your beloved Snoopy, lay immortalised in wobbly frosting on an uneven base. His ears drooped, and his face was just crooked enough to be endearing.

“Haitham?” you asked, placing your bag down carefully. “What… What happened here? Did Snoopy get caught in a blizzard?”

Alhaitham’s neutral expression didn’t falter, though his ears turned a light shade of pink. “It’s a cake,” he deadpanned. “Not a sculpture. Artistic liberties were necessary.”

That was all it took. You doubled over, laughter spilling from your lips like a bubbling brook. “You made this? For me?”

“Yes,” he said simply, the word softened by his sincerity. “You’ve been overworking yourself. I thought you might enjoy this.”

Your laughter melted into something warmer, and you stepped closer with a glow in your chest, inspecting the cake with a fond smile. “I didn’t know you could bake.”

“I can’t,” he admitted flatly. “And I don’t plan to pursue it further. The kitchen may never recover.”

"But you look so handsome covered in frosting." You reached up, gently touching the mess on his cheek. “You’ve got a little something here.”

Not wasting another second, you pressed a kiss to the smudge, tasting a bit of sugar on your tongue. His breath caught, just barely, and you pulled back with a grin.

“There,” you said playfully. “All cleaned up.”

His lips parted slightly as if to retort, but you didn’t give him the chance. You cupped his face, your thumbs tracing circles of flour on his skin. “Did my baby work hard on this cake?”

Alhaitham blinked, caught entirely off-guard by your tone. “I wouldn’t use the term hard,” he huffed slightly, a crack in his usual demeanor under your doting affection.

“Oh, but you did,” you teased, brushing your nose against his. “Worked so hard, just for me. My thoughtful, talented boyfriend.”

He sighed, a long exhale that felt more like surrender than irritation. “If you keep that up, you might convince me it was worth the mess.”

You beamed, leaning up to kiss him properly this time, imprinting your gratitude on his lips. “I already know it was. You’re the sweetest, you know that?”

His ears darkened further, and he turned his attention to the counter as if it had become the most fascinating object in the room. “The cake might taste otherwise.”

“Stop being modest,” you said, grabbing the knife. “Come on. Let’s taste your masterpiece.”

His hand covered yours before you could cut into it. “Be gentle with it. It’s barely holding together.”

You chuckled, nudging him. “Sounds a bit like me during finals actually.” Alhaitham was clearly amused by your comparison, lips quirking as you looked at him.

When you cut into the cake, the sound of the knife meeting its layers fills the space. You served a piece, taking a bite before offering your verdict. “Hmm.” You hummed thoughtfully, watching his expression tighten.

“Well?” he asked, the question almost reluctant.

You grinned and reached for his hand, squeezing it. “It’s perfect. Just like you.”

He raised his brow at the sentiment but you caught the way his grip mirrored your squeezing. “I think your standards are too forgiving,” he replied.

“Not at all,” you said earnestly, setting your fork down and stepping closer. “It means everything to me, Alhaitham. Thank you.”

For once, words faltered and fell away, replaced by the gentle press of his forehead against yours. At that moment, the world seemed to pause, and the chaos of frosting, cake, and his flour-coated hands faded into nothingness. In their place was something simpler, something truer—his love for you that spoke volumes without a single syllable.

bonus gift: some silly visuals 🫶

a/n: i was a little nervous about this because kay, you already write so beautifully. i truly hope this was to your liking 🥺💖 congrats again on completing your masters program. i hope your certification exam goes/went well 💖

divider: @/adornedwithlight

#☾ grimmweepers #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #al-haitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader

294 notes · View notes

hiraethwrote · 5 months ago

Note

heyy can you write some headcannons on Megumi having a crush and how would he act towards her? I can’t really picture him confessing honestly. thank you so much

cw: f!reader, aged up characters, profanity, alcohol, fluff, some hostile behaviour, misunderstandings word count: 2.2k a/n this was supposed to be like a short drabble but i am unable to do that lol (no tags)

Megumi doesn’t have a lot of experience when it comes to having a crush, because no one has managed to catch his eye. Therefore, the realisation that he might have a crush on you comes sneaking up on him. It’s not until he becomes aware that you infiltrate his mind during the most casual moments that it hits him.

He could just be running errands, and he could hear a song playing from a random clothing store he’s walking past and think this would definitely be a song you’d listen to. Or when he witnesses something funny and has to remember to tell you.

When it dawns on him, the first feeling that strikes him is guilt. He can’t help but feel a little sleazy, like he’s become one of those annoying guys who always whine about being stuck in the friend zone — that he is somehow breaking your trust by how he feels about you. So he tries to tell himself that it’s not serious, only silly infatuation because you’re pretty. Nothing more.

Turns out he couldn’t be more wrong, because you continue to plague his mind, the feelings only growing stronger. And with that frustrating new development, there’s a clear shift in your relation — not necessarily for the better. He’ll grow colder and harsher, his tone carrying a hostile weight it didn’t have before.

“Megumi,” you chuckled, “don’t be so proud. It would be easier to just take two trips than try to carry everything at once.“ There was playfulness to your tone that was nothing but kind, indicating that the atmosphere shouldn’t be anything but pleasant. “Yeah, I heard you the first time,” he grumbled in response, stubbornly turning his back to you before he continued as if you’d never said anything at all. You blinked at him a few times in utter disbelief at the unfamiliar edge to his words, waiting for him to face you again to ease the jab with a shy smile. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered carefully when he never met your gaze again. You took the hint, turning on your heel and leaving him alone. Whatever had gotten into him, he clearly didn’t want you around, and you weren’t going to hang around if he was on going to fire tiny comments at you. He shot you a modest look over his shoulder, mentally kicking himself over talking to you that way, and karma would come and bite him soon enough. With a deep sigh, he lifted all the bags, like he had insisted on doing, only to carry them a few feet before the first bag tore, spilling all the items around him. “Fuck.”

Megumi had hoped that putting that (unnatural) distance between the two of you would cause his feelings to disappear, but that quickly proved not to be the case.

After a month of minimal contact, where you only ever interact when you’re hanging out with the entire group, he finds himself missing you. It just wasn’t right not to share those stares whenever someone said something ridiculous, or immediately turn to you when he needed someone else’s opinion.

He decides he wants to ease his way back into your good graces — but he’s a little too embarrassed to straight out apologise for the way he’s been treating you. So he starts off by tuning down his frown towards you when hanging out the whole group.

“Okay, guys, next one- guys, attention over here!” Nobara’s strict voice cut through the crowd, causing the chatter to calm down enough for her to ask the next question. “Who’s most likely to forget to text back?” Without hesitation, Yuji slung the ping pong ball to Megumi, who caught it with one hand — expecting it to come flying in his direction. “Drink up, Fushiguro!” “You know, it’s not that I forget. I just choose not to answer you,” Megumi mocked him before taking a swig of his drink. He couldn’t care less about the offended sounds that stuttered out of Yuji, because he was too hung up on how he had managed to draw the sweet sound of your chuckle from your lips. “Okay, Fushiguro. Who is most likely to make you smile? I’m surprised if there’s anyone that can make you smile,” Nobara snickered, biting the edge of her plastic cup. He rolled his eyes at her comment before swiftly throwing the ball confidently in your direction, causing you to jump a little as it lands in your lap. Your eyes found his immediately, lips parted in surprise. He drew his lips into an awkward line, heat rushing to his cheeks when you tilted your head at him, hiding the warm smile he caused behind your cup as you took a sip.

After that, things go back to normal — well, somewhat normal. You definitely go back to how your friendship used to be before the small hiccup. Megumi, however, has a hard time keeping his cool around you.

The whole ordeal has him easily irritated. Though after you’re little ‘break’, he makes sure never to take it out on you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t witness it. He didn’t have to struggle with something for long before a string of curses escapes him, before he inevitably gives up on whatever task is at hand — only for you to pick it up instead and immediately fix it.

He hates how you disturb every aspect of his life. Before you, he could lay down in his bed and fall asleep the second he closed his eyes. Now… he’d toss and turn into the lonely hours of the night.

During the day, he has (what he thinks is) a very pathetic need to be close to you whenever he has the chance. He tries to play it off as casually as possible, leaving the room when you do because “he needs to stretch his legs” or coming with you to the store even though he doesn’t need anything because “he could do with some fresh air”. Your presence is just comfortable to him, and he wants to wallow in it as much as possible.

Things and gestures he never really thought twice about before, suddenly has his mind raze a million miles an hour. Small things, like when you wanted to show him a funny video and as you hand him your phone, his entire body would feel like it was on fire when your fingers grazed his so gently. Or when you noticed a strand of hair on his shirt, you would simply reach out and remove it, and he instantly became insanely aware of himself.

“All I’m saying, is if Yuji really wanted to, he would just set his alarm-“ Time suddenly moved in slow motion, eyes following your every move as you simply leaned forward, two fingers delicately pinching the stray hair that had landed on his shoulder before rubbing your fingers together to let it fall to the floor. Were you crazy? Why would you do that to him? His breathing picked up its pace, as he now could physically feel every fibre and atom in his body. And now nothing about the way he sat or moved his arms felt natural, entirely convinced you would be able to see right through him. “Hey, Megumi!” Your voice finally snapped him back to the moment, staring at you with big eyes as you were sporting a rather confused expression. “Hmm?” “Did you lose your train of thought or something? You suddenly just stopped talking,” you chuckled. “Uhm, yeah, sorry. Where was I,” he said, shaking his head, trying desperately not to think about how you had taken such an innocent act and made it feel so incredibly intimate.

You do pick up on the change in his behaviour. He isn’t as subtle as he thinks when he purposely lingers around you after everyone has left. And whenever the group does something together, he makes sure to take the seat next to you.

Had it been anyone other than Megumi, you would never have thought twice about the behaviour — but when Megumi, who had always preferred to just keep to himself, suddenly seeks the company of another person, of course one raises an eyebrow in speculation.

You don’t want to assume anything, though. He could just feel bad for how he treated you and this was his way of apologising without saying the words. Nonetheless, you did not mind it at all.

Megumi has no plans on confessing whatsoever. He tries to convince himself he is perfectly content with living in the agony of admiring from your side, even though he’s slowly dying as the feelings just keep growing for every time he watches you smile.

“You know he likes you, right?” Nobara stated confidently as she licked her ice cream. You huffed a laugh, turning to look at her with your eyebrows pinched together. “Yeah, okay.” “Come on! You’re lying if you haven’t noticed.” “There’s nothing to notice, Nobara. He just feels bad for our little falling out,” you sighed as you turned to look at him and Yuji again. Much to Megumi’s dismay, Yuji had forced him on his feet to help him with setting up the chairs and table for the small get together he had arranged that evening. From afar it only seemed like Megumi was scolding Yuji for messing up the chairs again, very clearly frustrated by his inability to perform what was supposed to be an easy task. You felt Nobara’s inquisitive squint drill into your side. “You’re so full of shit.” You spun your head to scowl at her, offence written all over your features. “Well, he’s never going to come clean so you’re going to have to take the lead there.” She earned herself a weak kick to the heel before you shifted your attention to the two boys again, who seemed to be unbelievably lost. After a few seconds, Megumi turned towards you, instantly locking eyes with you. His lips turned upwards in a sweet smile as his hand raised in a small wave.

Megumi will continue to stay close to you, endlessly embarrassed every time you have his voice hitch in his throat because you’re just to breathtaking when doing… anything really.

After Nobara was the first person to breathe life into the idea of his crush on you out loud, it suddenly seemed like that was the reason behind everything he did. You couldn’t hide behind the suspicion that he felt guilty anymore, because it had gone on for too long.

Once you see it, how devoted he seems to be to you in the most mundane aspects of your life, you quickly realise that the feeling is mutual. There’s something about being the one person to melt the heart of the most stoic person you know. How he who always parades around with a grumpy expression, avoiding other people, chooses to basically follow you around with just the tiniest smile dancing at the corner of his lips at all times.

“You can have it,” Megumi said, sliding the plate with the last slice of pizza directly in front of you. “What?” “I said you can have it,” a slightly teasing lilt to his voice. You only stared at him with big eyes before your eyebrows narrowed. “You always claim the last slice.” He simply shrugged. “‘M not hungry.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest and you simply stared at him, trying to uncover whatever was running through his mind. His face slowly turned the faintest shade of red before he finally managed to avert his gaze. “Time to spit it out, Fushiguro,” you demanded. “Since when do you use my last na-“ “Don’t try and change the subject.” Your sudden strict tone had him swallow the lump in his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispered coyly, fingers toying with the unused fork in front of him. “Do you like me?” The blunt confession had his heart beat against his chest with the force of a thousand suns, pounding so loud it filled his ears, eyes drawn to yours again. “Of course, we’re friends-“ the sentence died in his throat at the fierce scowl you gifted him, head tilted forward in annoyance. “Yes.” The creased evidence of previous frustration relaxed as the innocent word spilled from his lips, shoulders slumping in a new sensation of peace. On the other side of the table, Megumi sat with the most intense stress he could ever remember feeling, only reinforced by how calm and quiet you became. “Huh,” you said lightheartedly. “Why didn’t you just say so?” It was his turn to furrow his eyebrows, surprised by the casual tone in your voice. “I like you too, dumbass.” “Oh,” he blinked. His heart slowly started to calm down to try and ground himself in order to deduce if this was one of his countless dreams of you or not. After a second, a genuine warm smile came to show on your lips, one of those that always made his heart skip a beat, and he realised this was in fact real.

Megumi having a crush on you works out in his favour in the end.

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated plagiarism not authorized

581 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago

Note

My mind is racing right now. I’m just imagining targ!reader who is Rhaenyra’s heir and maybe she’s a realms delight (very politically savvy maybe idk) like her mother was and everyone is trying so hard to get her attention but all she wants is Benjicot and he thinks that he doesn’t have a chance so he doesn’t even entertain the thought of it.

Am I Going Crazy?

No you’re not going crazy anon, I totally understand. I’m just shooting at the hip with with one, so it’s gonna be short and something

The moment you were born the realm fell in love with you just as your family did the second you opened your gorgeous eyes and smiled.

The realms delight was a title once given to your mother when she was younger, was a title now being passed down to you. Everyone from greater house, small houses and even the obscure ones wanted to witness you every smile and every laugh however they could, whether it be on your name day, tourneys or otherwise they all clambered to be in your presence.

‘You had the entire realm at your feet, you could convince the dumb cunt lords and their sons into stupidly plunging into depths of death, should you feel like it.’ is what Daemon says often as to remind you just how much of a hold you held over everyone whereas in a way that your mother didn’t. Or at least not anymore.

You lived relativity with more freedom and leniency then most of similar status, which may have less to you being the core envy for some, but in exchange you were taught by Daemon a plethora of things when came to playing your hand in this game of politics and power. He taught you how to wield a sword and how to keep your opponent guessing your next move, so much so that when training with the likes of Jace, Luke or either Baela and Rhaena you were always ten steps ahead.

Much like your mother, you were granted the privilege to seek out whom ever caught your eye when you were of an eligible age for marriage, so when the news that you offering up your hand in marriage the realm was quick to gather their finest men to speak upon why it is that you should choose them over the others. However none of them were to your taste as some were far too young and could barely pick up a sword, far too old and fat from gorging themselves on wine and food, or just didn’t give a good enough reason for you to marry them other then that they could satisfy you; A line that had them shoved out the door as quickly as they came as you tried to swallow down the bile that rose in your throat.

The Riverlands were beautiful but the reason you came to the Riverlands was for one man and one man only, The new lord of house Blackwood, Benjicot Blackwood. So when you didn’t see the stormy eyed man with the dark hair at the hall you couldn’t help but be a little upset, and so had no choice but to internalise the reasons why and forced yourself to listen to the rest of the men in attendance with a forced look of interest, repressing that restless feeling within your chest to go out and search for him yourself on dragon back if you must.

Soon enough you’ve decided to give yourself a break from it all and wander out to explore of the Riverlands, which was where your marriage tour was currently stationed at, and coming to adore all that you could see in their bright and vibrant colours in comparison to back home. There were Fields that stretched on for miles on end onto the horizon with grass a plenty to feed the cattle, small patches of trees where the birds sung and rested their aching wings and fed on the berries they produce.

Meanwhile with Benjicot he didn’t feel as though he had anything to give to you, the heir and delight of the realm. He was a Lord but there were men of far greater houses then his who could provide you more than he could, and in Benji’s mind he shouldn’t even bother to tempt the idea of you choosing him, not when he knew it was a fight he’ll never win from the beginning. So he didn’t and that hurt him far more then he thought as the idea of not trying, or bothering to try at all would become a regret he would be burdened with carrying for the rest of his life; left alone to ponder in his old age as to what could’ve been had he actually tried.

Oscar and Kermit had tried to convince him into doing something about it but even they couldn’t get his stubborn ass to move an inch, and now both Tully boys could only stand and watch as their friend take his frustrations out on a straw training dummy.

‘This is sad.’ Oscar said as Kermit made a noise of agreement.

‘Very sad.’ Kermit replied as Benjicot moved his attention to another dummy after violently disembowelling the previous training dummy as the straw insides spilled out. ‘He’s probably still wishing that Aeron Bracken was that dummy.’ Kermit then adds as he looks over at his brother, who was doing the exact same.

‘I mean the little twat deserved that pummelling earlier for even thinking he had a chance and now he can’t go because his injuries were too severe.’ Oscar snorted in disbelief before adding on, ‘his uncle knew that if he had let Aeron go in his current state, house Bracken would’ve become a laughing stock of the realm.’

Kermit gave a slight chuckle before looking back at Benjicot and his smile fell from his face. ‘He really likes her…’ he trails off as Oscar’s face now becomes crestfallen and sighs. ‘He does and it easts him up inside that even if he did bother to go, he’d just get rejected regardless.’ Kermit was about to add onto that, when something catches his eye, he spotted a figure emerging from the trees and his eyes widened up seeing it was you and proceeded to smack Oscar in the arm repeatedly.

‘Ow, ow, quit hitting me!’ Oscar said and as he went to hit his brother in the arm as retaliation, his eyes too went wide upon seeing you walking towards them casually.

‘It’s the princess!’ Kermit hissed.

‘Of course it’s the princess dipshit, I’ve got eyes that still see!’ Oscar hissed back.

‘Well obviously he doesn’t!’ Kermit barked as he pointed towards Benjicot, not realising that he just pointed you to the person you’ve been wanting to see most. Meanwhile the lord of house Blackwood was all the more obviously to everything happen, being stuck inside his own head and all, that he didn’t see Kermit and Oscar’s frantic looks over at him as he continued to destroy the third training dummy today nor does he know that you were behind him until you spoke up.

‘What did the training dummies do to deserve such anger?’

Benjicot froze up immediately as he looked out of his eyes at Kermit and Oscar, who were just as frozen to the scene before them as him, as he then took a deep breath and looked over to see that his mind hadn’t been playing him a fool and that you -the realms delight and heir to the iron throne- were actually here in the flesh but why?

You couldn’t help but smile at his shocked expression and tense body language, Benjicot was far more handsome up close than you remembered, all the while still being a shy and awkward but honourable nobleman. ‘Are you alright lord Blackwood? You’re looking a little flustered there.’ You said as you gestured to his cheeks which were burning bright red.

‘Princess, shouldn’t you be on your marriage tour?’ Benjicot asked and already he wanted the ground to swallow him for how stupid he sounded.

‘I am but I’ve decided to put it on hold as to stretch my legs.’ You told him and could see his shoulders deflated a little, ‘besides the person I wished to see most hadn’t shown up, and so I thought that since I am in the Riverlands I shall go seek him out myself instead, drag him back to Raventree hall if I must.’ You then added with a smile as Benjicot’s breath hitched in his throat.

‘And if I may ask princess, but who are you looking for?’ He asks as casually as he could but felt a little under pressure from the looks Oscar and Kermit were giving him as they silently routed for him from a few paces away, his heart elevating even quicker when you took a step towards him.

‘You of course.’ You told him straightforwardly. ‘You were the one person I was hoping to see today.’

‘Why?’ Benji found himself asking without second thought on how it came across. ‘Why me, I have nothing to offer you princess, wouldn’t it be better to have a suitor from a greater house to strengthen your own?’ He didn’t want to believe this was real but also he did want to believe that you had sought him out on your own accord. However this felt too good to be reality, it had to be a dream Benjicot was sure of it, for where else would it be plausible for the person you’ve been yearning after to activity search for him during your marriage tour of all things? It wasn’t something that was even remotely grounded in reality but instead a tale found straight out of an old book.

‘Does it matter as to why I sought you out other then the fact that I’d much rather take you a kind, honourable and honest man, as my husband over some fat cunt of a man?’ You replied as you reached for his hands, desperate to have him trust your words as truth while feeling every one of his calluses press into your hands perfectly, as though the gods made them to hold yours specifically. ‘Does it matter that all I wish to marry out of love and not duty as is expected of me? I am free to marry whoever I wish and I wish for you.’ You add, moving your head so that you could still be in Benjicot’s line of sight when he ducks his head to his chest, seeing you smile so sweetly at him and making his heart leap up into his throat.

‘Tis I where your heart lies princess?’ Benjicot asked softly, not trusting to raise his voice more than a whisper, waiting to wake up from this seamlessly perfect dream. Your smile grew bigger as you pressed your forehead against his own to look him deeper into his stormy eyes that bore an expression of vulnerability and uncertainty. ‘Along with my soul and my mind for countless day, yes, you are where my heart lies Benjicot Blackwood.’ You reassured him, watching the internal conflict within him war against one another for a while before there was nothing but a sweet gleam in his eye.

��You are where my heart lies too princess,’ Benjicot confessed, pressing his head further against yours with a smile, ‘I’d be more than honoured to be yours.’

You were absolutely glowing upon hearing this as you laughed with pure joy and happiness. your search was over, you had found the one you wanted even though you had to find him first, but that didn’t matter as later that day your marriage tour came to an end as your hand happily secured by one Benjicot Blackwood.

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon imagines #Benjicot Blackwood imagine #Benjicot Blackwood imagines #bloody Ben #bloody Ben x fem!reader #house of the dragon x female reader #hotd x female reader #Benjicot x female reader #Benjicot Blackwood x female reader

451 notes · View notes

astralis-ortus · 7 months ago

Text

agent(s) of chaos

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— there's a reason why you love game nights with your boyfriend's second family.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, a dash of comedy warning → mild cussing (i think? it's just hints), the chaos that is ot8 stray kids, one time jump, and reader is referred to as baby! no gender specific attributes mentioned aside from reader's hair being soft, heh a.n → based on this request! not gonna lie, i actually got a slight headache from imagining the chaos throughout the fic lol even in my head they're /that/ loudㅠ heh ⋆ see masterlist

game nights with your boyfriend and his friends might not happen often; but once they all come together and get the event date set?

oh, a (good) chaos will definitely ensue.

“goddamit—chan hyung! get your eyes on the game!”

“yeah! go get it, seungmin!”

“felix you bronze—step on it! catch up!”

a collective of cheers and disappointed groans were imminent as soon as yoshi, seungmin’s character of the night, crosses the finish line; leaving dry bowser and baby mario—which respectively belongs to han and chan, in second and third place. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought the boys were just competing in some major mario kart competition.

“wah chan hyung—you’re seriously so bad at this!” changbin loudly protests—to which you genuinely thank yourself for pushing through with the rented villa agenda—while throwing his head back against the sofa in desperation. lee know, their other unfortunate teammate on the other hand, is busy pretending to box against your cackling boyfriend, having a string of ‘sorry’s falling from his lips.

“argh!” switching his target in desperation, changbin immediately puts his hands together and faces you with his attempt of salvation. “please switch teams with me! i can’t do this any longer! he’s so bad!” he pleaded, nearly earning himself a thrown nintendo controller on the head from chan if it wasn’t for your swift hands, snatching the heavy plastic from your pouting boyfriend. Well, not that you mind though, considering how adorable your boyfriend looked while he sulks.

“yah yah yah—changbin hyung!” seungmin intercepted—and if you know something about the kim seungmin, then his iconic multiple-hit comment is about to pop off. “no one told you to be so bad with rock paper scissors anyway!” the younger pointed out, a smug grin etched across the span of his face, “that’s why you ended up with chan hyung!”

“hey!” your boyfriend was the first to react, pointing at the smug younger one—and of course, it’s not changbin if he didn’t follow suit.

“yah! you prick!” huffing and puffing, changbin was quick on his feet as soon as seungmin stuck out his tongue, further provoking the curly haired male while he ran away—only to fish more of changbin’s loud shouts after the younger. “yah kim seungmin! come back here!”

series of laughter follows the disappearance of the two; to which everyone know by heart now, is also the best time for the rest of the kids to take their water and bathroom break—and alongside that, also became the best time for chan to finally take a proper look at you.

“you’re still good, baby?” the switch in his demeanor made you giggle as you lean into chan’s warm touch on your cheek. despite having witnessed the shift countless of times, the way chan’s voice became very soft when he spoke with you never fails to make your heart flutter. “it’s almost 1 am, aren’t you sleepy yet?”

“i’m good,” a smile follows your simple answer whilst your arms found their home around your boyfriend’s waist, snuggling closer to his warmth while chan lifts your legs to cross over his lap. “can last at least 2 more games, i think. besides, i drank some of the coffee jeongin brewed earlier, remember?”

chan’s exaggerated sigh along with his usual disapproving head shake ignites another set of laugh within you, fishing another pout to appear on his plump lips. “knew i shouldn’t have trusted jeongin,” he dramatically piched his nose bridge, trying to look as disappointed as he could. “he’s part of the bad peaches club after all.”

“i heard that!”

jeongin’s resounding shout from the kitchen startles both you and chan—causing your laughter and chan’s to grow in volume. “not sorry!” chan’s reply simply earned a grunt from the younger, not wanting to further continue the discourse while he’s busy arguing with hyunjin about who can get their hands on the last can of beer in the fridge.

“but anyway,” chan’s gaze softened as they returned to you, running his fingers mindlessly in your soft hair, “tell me whenever you feel sleepy, okay? we’ll go to bed right away.”

“i know,” an exaggerated sigh left your lips as you immitate your boyfriend’s previous antics, “this isn’t my first rodeo, you know?” you snickered as you playfully stuck out your tongue—which in turn only further cause the adoration in his chest to bubble.

oh, how he wish you’re all alone right now. he’d immediately tackle you into a cuddle and plant several dozens of light kisses across your face and neck—but he must resist. after all, he wouldn’t want the kids to tease you over something like that.

“gosh, you’re so annoying,” he hummed, lips betraying him as it formed into a massive grin across his lightly flushed cheeks, “think you’ve been hanging around the kids too much. i should keep a schedule for your visits from now on.”

“nooo!”

4 round of games and 20 minutes later, another wave of commotion returns as the race for second place—since first place has again been coveted by the representative agent of chaos, the kim seungmin—ensues between lee know and han.

“han jisung! step on it step on it!”

“lee know hyung! shi—why are you getting as bad as chan hyung!”

“yah! baby, tell—“

chan’s words immediately died down in his throat as soon as his gaze landed on your peacefully sleeping face—plea to defend himself from his kids vaporized and replaced with a soft thump in his chest. You looked so peaceful with your head resting against his shoulder—a massive contrast to the chaos surrounding you—and chan could feel his heart swell. you looked so cute; especially with your fingers wrapped tightly around the controller seungmin had just handed you a few moments prior.

had you been fighting off the drowsiness all along?

carefully pulling you into his lap, chan smiled as he gently peeled the controller off of your hand before dropping it directly onto hyunjin’s unsuspecting lap, startling the younger.

“ya—“

“shut it,” chan hissed between gritted teeth, easily pulling hyunjin’s focus from the chaos happening on screen and to you—who immediately nodded his head knowingly when he realized what’s happening.

“yah lee min—ow! what was th—oh.”

chan’s next target was changbin—who immediately received a slap on the back instead of chan’s quiet warning. it’s rather effective, however, considering outside of the two current players, everyone now has their eyes on you.

“keep it quiet—if my baby wakes up because of any of you,” chan eyed every single one of his kids, not even caring how severe the teasing he’ll receive by the daylight will be for whatever he’ll be saying next,

“i’m not gonna let it slide.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

636 notes · View notes

artsninspo · 8 months ago

Text

"WHISKY, NEAT" - Rio X Reader

Summary: A follow up of "Baby-Girl" where the reader is Stan's younger sister and meets Rio at Ruby's place. Some time has passed and Rio shows up at your job asking for a whisky, neat.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Black Reader

Word-Count: 1.3K

« previous part | » next part

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

Smiling, you look up at Rio, the seemingly dangerous stranger from Stan’s & Rubys place. You’d asked your big brother about the charismatic stranger that spent his time around the core three girls and his response was ‘stay away’. It wasn’t what you expected. If he wanted you to stay away wouldn’t he have the same advice for Ruby? He’d always been a good brother. You weren’t surprised in the slightest when he became security and then a cop. Protective instincts were something he’d been born with. Wiping off the bar you glance at the clock. Twenty-five minutes until closing. Only the absolute worst patrons come in at witching hourt. You know it’s no coincidence he’s here either. He’s too cool and confident to walk into your bar twenty five minutes before closing, and on the night you work.

“What’s your poison?” You ask.

“Whisky, neat” he says and you smile reaching for the top shelf. You pour generously and he tosses a hundred onto the pine.

“What’s yours?” Rio asks.

“I only drink to get the party started. The party’s over” you comment and it comes out flirty. You can’t help it, you’re attracted to something about him. The look in his eye says the feeling is mutual.

“Look, I’d love to play this thing up with you but Stan told me to stay away. Stan doesn’t tell me what to do often so I’m inclined to listen.” You tell him drying off a glass as you begin stacking them for closing early.

“I don’t know what you think this is but I’m just here for a drink, baby girl” Rio rasps in surrender, his innocent eyes juxtaposed with his cunning smirk.

“Perfect” you nod, taking his rejection in stride and he laughs showing off pearly whites.

“I mean hypothetically, if I was here to flirt, am I your type?” He asks leaning in and you realize his voice has a lot to do with your attraction to him.

“Hypothetically?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Hypothetically” he repeats in affirmation oozing confidence.

“Absolutely” you affirm. Rio looks shocked. “I have a rule about staying away from my type. As much as I enjoy the adrenaline it’s not good for anyone involved” you speak the truth. The air sizzles between the two of you.

“Why’s that?” Rio asks, taking your rejection well and you smile, liking him a little more.

“Heart damage” you say plainly and he looks around.

“So you like dolling pain out with a smile huh? Liquor for the liver and heartbreak” Rio flirts back impressing you with his quick draw wit.

“You can take it” you wink as he takes a swig of his whisky.

“Y/N it’s quiet you can take off early I can clean up” the owner says misinterpreting the situation.

“Thanks boss,” you smile, cashing out. You make sure your money is good before turning back to Rio. “Goodnight”

Heading in the back you have an argument with the angel on your shoulder trying to convince you to do the right thing and follow Stan’s advice. Switching out of your bartender outfit you put on a sweatsuit and head out back. Security stands around waving as you head out front to meet your driver. Rio is standing against his G-Wagon as you get the text from your driver saying he’ll be five minutes late checking your watch, you remember you’re done early.

“Need a ride?” Rio asks.

You both know if you get in that car the only thing you’ll be doing is riding him into the leather. You aren’t convinced he can handle you but, you are convinced he’s packing heavy artillery. The kind that does all the work for him. With all the confidence you suspect he’s a lazy lover and if he’s as big as you assume it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Only, guys with egos as big as his don’t like to be fucked, they like the control and ego trip of loud moans and expressive love faces. It would be a face off, a clash of wills and the idea in of itself excites you.

“No” you smile, listening to the angel.

“Just a ride” he shrugs.

“You were just drinking” you remind and he walks a straight line to demonstrate sobriety.

“How many fingers?” You ask.

“Five, three, one” he responds accurately. His smug smile says his point is made. He does nothing in a hurry, all his movements are slowed like he commands time itself. His eyes sparkle under the fluorescent light and yours do too fighting temptation. Your phone burns a hold in your hand. You want to message your driver to cancel and take Rio up on his implied offer of one good night. It’s been so long you deserve it.

“Come on baby girl, let me treat you like it” he whispers, moving your hair off your shoulder as he looks down at you. As much as you want to be one of the other girls who gets to experience the charismatic, dangerous and alluring stranger you resist remembering Stan’s words.

“Why are you here?” You ask, trying to kill the chemistry.

“Kept thinking about you, did some research, found out you work here and here I am?” He shrugs. You don't know whether it's a point or a red flag.

“What do you do for work” you ask, trying to kill your interest in him.

“Entrepreneur” Rio responds.

“Why do you know Ruby and her friends, really. I don’t buy the whole soccer dad thing.” You respond, voicing your hesitations out loud.

“You don’t care” Rio chuckles, making an accurate observation. It’ll be nothing special. You text your driver you’ll be late and open the door to Rios truck getting in the car. He smiles, shutting it behind you. You open the glove box to get condoms but a gold gun shines within it shocking you. Your jaw drops as a soberingly good reason to stay away from him glares back at you. Spontaneous sex with a stranger is dangerous enough, automatic weapons that are clearly personalized is where you draw the line. Shutting the glove box you look at Rio, unable to ignore what you just saw.

“Changed my mind” you say once the door is open again, you hop down suddenly acutely aware of your surroundings. Rio curses himself punching the wheel. He needed you to run him dry. To see the strained looks on your pretty face as he digs you out. It’s been awhile since he’s had a genuinely satisfying conquest. A woman that isn’t inhibited sexually and excites him. One that gives as good as she gets.

Watching you walk away takes a lot out of him. He never chased women but was considering it. The chemistry between the two of you is too solid to willingly discard. Starting the car his pride loses to his lust as he pulls up beside you topping down the window.

“Carjacking is big, it’s for safety” Rio lies.

“Don’t make me lose respect for you now with a lie” you tell him heading to the back entrance.

“Stop storming off, then” Rio says and you stop.

“I’m not a bad guy” he says but you highly doubt that.

“Large amounts of cash, one. My brother says stay away, two. Let’s not even count you showing up here. A gold weapon, three!” You snap.

“The fact that you’re not scared tells me you can handle it” Rio says goading you. Smiling, you shake your head at how he’s missed the point.

“The name Rio is another red flag” you add. “I’m going to follow my gut, so drop it?” You tell Rio bitterly and he sighs. You continue walking away.

“Y/N, hey!” He shouts and you turn.

“Call me Christopher,” he says, making you smile. The irony is not lost on you. It’s the quintessential biblical name.

“Goodnight Christopher” you concede.

“Nite” he sighs, still turned on. Swallowing the bitterness in his throat Rio drives off heading to find Beth.

Next Part

_________

Authors note: If you're reading this thank you for all the love on Part One, its slowly keeps getting love and I really appreciate it 💖🥰. Let me know what you think - comment, like & reblog. Muah, xoxo.

#rio x black!reader #rio x you #rio good girls #rio x reader #masterlist #manny montana x reader #manny montana

716 notes · View notes

bloodibambiidoll · 19 days ago

Text

The copying in the Outer Banks fandom has gotten completely out of hand. I am not only speaking for myself, but for people who I’ve also witnessed this happening to. It seems that some of you have the mentality of “oh! Well this has probably been done before in fanfiction so it’s not copying because they didn’t invent it!” But if you see someone’s post, and take inspiration from it IN ANY WAY, you need to credit them for it.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a moodboard of a fic they haven’t posted yet. Or just a simple thought they put out into the universe. Even if you use someone’s gif they took the time to make and share, there needs to be credit. I think the over abundance of !Readers has made a lot of regurgitation happening between blogs in this fandom. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t write them, but they’re all the same. Spice it up. And when there is something new? I see it ripped off over and over again until it’s like a telephone game and the original poster is lost in the wind.

It fucking HURTS to put your time, creativity, energy, and care into something and then see someone else take your idea, not even make it their own, and then proceed to give you zero credit for it. Taking inspiration from people is a fundamental human reaction that every person does. But it doesn’t matter if it was malicious. It still hurts just the same. I have posted moodboards teasing my AUs and have had people take that idea and write it before I can ever even post my fic. It fucking sucks. It’s discouraging. And it’s just fucking rude and inconsiderate as hell.

On top of that, it’s fucking boring. Why would you want to march to the beat of every other person in this fandoms drum? Fanfiction is about being whoever the fuck you want, writing whatever the fuck you want, but it seems like people care more about notes and what others think than the actual content they’re putting out. This fandom needs to be less about the aesthetics and more about the content. I’m tired of reading the same thing over and over again. I’m tired of the 500-1k blurbs that throw me right into the smut with no plot or backstory.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a little smut blurb down, but when it’s all you see? It’s gets old. But that being said, the lack of support on longer fics, smut, and angst, is extremely discouraging to writers and it causes us to not want to take the time and effort to write those longer things because while notes aren’t everything, feeling unappreciated in any capacity is shitty. It’s a byproduct of itself.

We need to be more courteous of others. There needs to credit given when inspiration is taken from others. There needs to be less worry about what other people like, what other people will think and more focus on the creativity and the fun of fanfiction. Something needs to change because I have been seeing this almost daily. I have had friends and mutuals coming to me for these exact feelings I’m feeling and it’s discouraging and exhausting to see. There’s also this fear around calling people out for stealing because whenever someone does, hell rains down on them. It’s not cute. People should be allowed to defend their creativity on their own blog.

And they wouldn’t have to. If everyone just started giving credit where credit is due.

#added a cute divider so you’ll actually pay attention #tw rant #tw: rant #outer banks #OBX #obx fandom #outer banks fandom #rafe Cameron #xoxodolly #and I’m not making it small text you’re gonna Loook at it big and in all its glory

153 notes · View notes

reidology13 · 3 months ago

Text

I tell someone I love them (just as a distraction)

Spencer Reid x fem famous!reader

Summary: In the depths of his addiction, Spencer finds someone who needs an escape as much as he does. cw: talk of addiction, allusions to sex (no actual smut), angst no happy ending

Part 2 here!

Meaningless whispers of ‘I love you’ mumbled between laboured breaths and cold kisses in an apartment that doesn’t feel like mine. The sheen of sweat that coats his body is nearly constant these days, it has nothing to do with physical exertion. The glaze over his hollow eyes is the furthest possible thing from pleasure, although by now he might have his wires crossed. His face is beautiful, and I can see myself marrying it in another life, one where my chest isn’t as hollow as his cheeks. A life where I don’t have to ignore the fresh scars in the crook of his elbow as I pull his shirt off.

I am not in that world, and neither is he, a reality that I cannot grieve because this is what I asked for, what I have been working for since before I can remember. The parties that leave me empty and sick, the performances that start the moment I leave the stage, the new friends who tag along for my name. I love him because he doesn’t care about any of it, if only because he’s too high to care about much at all.

I don’t feel anything when I finish, I’m not sure he does, either. I watch as he disappears from my side, already scrambling to his bag, searching through it until he finds what he needs. He slips into the bathroom, finally taking his chance to feel something after the numbness of the night. He has his escape, he used to be mine. I wonder if one day the chemicals he defiles his veins with will stop calming his ever racing mind, or if I just need a higher dose.

When he comes back, I pull him close to me, dragging him back down into the bedsheets and sweat. It works this time, my skin alight with every electrifying touch as his fingers dance gracefully across my body. His hands shake as they move, a feeling that makes my nerves sing as a lump forms in my throat and my heart sinks to my stomach. He looks up at me with those brown eyes that would be so gorgeous if they held any emotion, anything but that violent hunger for a craving he should have satisfied moments earlier. He can’t up his dose as easily as I can, can’t pull his vice back to bed without the risk of never waking up. He doesn’t bother saying that he loves me this time, we both know it’s not true. Or maybe it is, but there are things he loves much more, and telling me he loves me debases one of the only pure things left in the world. I’m glad he doesn’t try this time.

He holds me afterwards, his trembling body not yet ready to stand up, or maybe he knows that the moment he does he’ll be back inside the bathroom. I turn my head away, and as he buries his face in my shoulder, I pretend I don’t feel the apology he mouths against my glass skin. He runs a hand down my upper arm, his touch tentative and light, scared that I’ll shatter into a million pieces. My heart does. If he knows about the tear that runs down my face, he ignores it, and I’m not surprised. Ignorance is what we’re good at, after all.

When I wake up, he’s gone, slipped into the early morning, or called into the job that he shouldn’t be doing in his condition. I crawl out of my cold, damp sheets, the disgusting aftermath of our night. The sick feeling that perpetually sits in my gut, loosening under him, twisting tighter under the sun of the next day.

Slowly, I peel back the layers of sticky fabric, watching how they cling to my skin and each other as I force them into the washing machine. I turn it on.

Fresh sheets are laid out on my bed, sheets that haven’t yet witnessed the tornado of us, still clean and untainted by tears and sweat and words that never mean anything. I lay the sheet over the mattress, fighting to wrap it around all four corners as it perpetually escapes one, always sitting just slightly wrong. I place the pillows down carefully, fighting the urge to punch them like I’ve been wanting to punch his face every time he shows up at my door.

I can see myself marrying him in this world, too, getting him the help he needs and staying with him through it all. He would be able to be there for me when I need it, not an escape from, but support through the other parts of my life, a person to love and talk to about the hard things. But I know that is still impossible. One day, he will sober up and disappear, or I will be an uninvited guest at his funeral. There’s no option that ends well for both of us, the best we can do is take it as it happens and ignore everything.

I watch as the last blanket floats down over the bed, carelessly adjusting its corners. It looks exactly the same.

201 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 26 days ago

Text

Day twenty-nine of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“The mahjong tiles are new,” Cissie observes, watching Tim just a shade too sharply. He internally hopes the others get here soon. He and Cissie arrived about the same time, and when she texted Bart to remind him they were all meeting up he showed up five seconds later, and Suzie was excited to see them but almost immediately ran off to get something. And Cassie and Kon had both said they’d be late–Cassie’s mom made her stay home for dinner, and Kon had just said something about something called “the Evil Factory” and a mission report he had to finish and then hung up without elaborating, which had totally not made Tim quietly insane or anything.

The Evil Factory. What. What even is that?

Tim needs to look into some things, clearly.

“I’ve learned not to ask,” Tim says, and the look Cissie is giving him turns very pointed.

“But you’re asking me about school?” she says.

“Yes,” Tim says, because it’s not like she’s not perfectly aware he just did that, but also he doesn’t actually have to explain himself, so he just stops there.

Cissie stares blankly at him. Tim keeps a neutral but approachable expression on his face. Filling an awkward silence is the first mistake any witness–or suspect–makes.

She narrows her eyes, just barely, then opens her mouth to speak and–

“CISSIE,” Cassie wails from down the hall, and a second later she’s bolting into the room at full-speed and throwing herself at Cissie. Tim reflexively grabs for his bo and Cissie grabs for her–uh, bow–and Cassie makes an absolutely agonized noise and buries her face in Cissie’s lap. “I quit. I quit the team. I’m gonna ask Wonder Woman if I can move to Themyscira and I am never coming back.”

. . . alright then, Tim thinks, just barely raising his eyebrows behind his mask. Maybe not a supervillain attack, then.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t, actually,” Cissie says. “So like is this about your mom or–?”

“Kon’s wearing clothes,” Cassie cuts her off despairingly, voice muffled in her folded arms and Cissie’s lap.

“. . . I mean, I’d hope so?” Cissie says, patting the top of Cassie’s wig with a bewildered.expression as she sets her bow back down on the table. Tim–well, he might not hope that Kon was–never mind. But that seems like a pretty weird answer to that question either way.

“You don’t understand,” Cassie groans. “I ran into him outside–he’s texting somebody or something, I don’t know, he said he was gonna be a minute–and he said ‘hi’ and he was wearing clothes and I tripped! I tripped in mid-air! I tripped in mid-air and he tried to help me up and I think I blacked out or something and then he laughed and he’s wearing clothes, Cissie!”

Tim feels like maybe this is in some way “girl talk” and he shouldn’t necessarily be here, but also: what the hell is Cassie talking about?

He also wonders who Kon’s texting and has the vaguely-annoyed thought that Cadmus might be bothering him or something.

The subtle alert that means someone just texted Tim Drake’s phone goes off on his communicator and he makes a mental note to check it as soon as he can get a moment–it might be Dana or Mrs. Mac, or maybe one of the guys at school needs something, or . . . well, it could be his dad, technically, but statistically that’s not very likely, so–

. . . why does he feel like he’s missing something right now, he thinks to himself, repressing a frown. What would he be missing?

“Question: is this response proportional, or is this a ‘Code Superboy’ situation?” Cissie says. Cassie just groans all the more despairingly into her arms, not lifting her head at all.

“This is a code black Superboy situation,” she says, and Cissie winces and pats her head again. Assuming their definition of “code black” aligns with Tim’s, that means “panic reaction; breakdown of mental/physical responses and capabilities”. So . . . yeah, that seems like a weird answer too. Just because Kon’s . . . what, outside and doing whatever he’s doing on his phone? While . . . wearing clothes?

Tim really does not understand this conversation, yeah.

Definitely a girl thing, he decides.

#timkon #tim drake #cissie king jones #cassie sandsmark #dc robin #arrowette #wonder girl #young just us #young justice #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

176 notes · View notes

maimingaffairs · 2 years ago

Note

hellooo i would like to request something <33

basically hanahaki disease w/ Aleksander? when alina arrived at the little palace, reader had been coughing and Aleksander noticed then reader found out that she was coughing petals and eventually got to know it was a disease with the help of some of the plant expert grishas i guess perhaps the healers? then reader starts to distance herself from Aleksander so he wouldn't know but he eventually found out because one of the grisha witnessed one of reader's coughing session and maybe an angst to fluff fic 👉👈

first of all, i am so sorry.. she's a long one... this has been tentatively proofread so i apologise for any grammar or spelling errors. this is my first time writing this trope so i hope it will do alright. thank u for ur beautiful req, my lovely anon, i love u!

warnings: hanahaki disease, blood, vomiting, aleksander is an idiot here lowkey.

word count: 11.9k

To Love Another & Be Loved (aleksander morozova x fem!reader)

The Sun Summoner had to be one of the nicest people you’d met in your entire life.

You wanted to dislike her, after all, she was the center of Aleksander’s attention almost all of the time. Not even the scraps of his time had been reserved for you as of late.

But you simply couldn’t hate her. She was nothing but kind to you. You spent much of your time with her, anyway. You were the only other Tailor besides Genya and often helped her ready herself for important things when Genya was tending to the Queen. At first, your service to her was only out of obligation to Aleksander. After all, he was your best friend and he fought the King constantly to keep you away from the Grand Palace. The least you could do was help a bit. Surely it would be temporary.

You sat in Alina’s room with her and you focused hard on twisting her hair up and braiding little bits of it to create an elaborate updo. She was to have dinner with the King and Queen and the Prince that night along with Aleksander. You wordlessly pinned up a thin, tiny braid and Alina sighed.

“At what point does this all just… stop?” She asked warily and you eyed her through the mirror she sat in front of.

You raised an eyebrow and shook your head, “What do you mean?” You questioned and flickered your eyes back on her hair.

“Just… the showiness of it all. When do I become a person with capabilities rather than a spectacle?”

“Likely never.” You replied with a frown and you met her eyes in the mirror, “But that shouldn’t discourage you. Be the best damn spectacle this country has seen.”

Her shoulders squared a bit and she seemed to at least somewhat like what you had to say. You smiled and went back to her hair, your fingers deftly weaving braids and little twists together for a while longer. You sat back after some time and then placed a few decorative pins in her hair, giving her an approving smile.

“Lovely. I’m sure the royal family will just eat you up.” You teased and rose from the stool you sat on.

“I’m sure Aleksander won’t like that.” She countered playfully and the smile slowly faded from your face.

You blinked in surprise a few times and then let out an uneasy chuckle, “So he’s told you his name?”

You didn’t know why it bothered you. But it did.

Alina nodded and she slid on her kefta and buttoned it up while she hummed. You eyed her and bit down on the inside of your cheek. It was black, of course. You glanced down at your own kefta and smoothed it down almost self-consciously. You wore a red kefta that was intricately embroidered with blue threads, and you’d never been disappointed in it until now.

Why not dress her in gold? You asked silently as you stared at her and you felt that same bitter twinge of jealousy you’d felt ever since she came to the Little Palace. Furthermore, the little sparkle in her eyes when she said his name didn't go unnoticed by you.

“Yes, is it not very common knowledge?” She asked once she finished buttoning up her clothes and you shook your head.

You opened your mouth to speak but a knock on the door cut you off. You took this as an opportunity to end this conversation before it made you more upset and you hurried to the door. You opened it up and you were instantly met by a familiar pair of dark eyes. A little weight was lifted from your chest and you smiled up at Aleksander who gave you a smile right back.

“I figured you’d still be here.” He remarked and leaned down to press a chaste and polite kiss on your cheek. Your skin felt warm and tingly where his lips had made contact and as he pulled away, you prayed he didn’t see the way your face was flushing.

“It probably wouldn’t have taken so long if Alina didn’t have so much hair.” You noted and then tucked a piece of your own back behind your ear, “I haven’t seen much of you recently.” You remarked, trying your best to keep your tone casual.

Aleksander clasped his hands behind his back and he gave you a wide smile, “Well, as you know, I’ve been very busy. Join me for tea tomorrow afternoon, I would love to catch up with you.” He said earnestly and you felt a tug in your chest.

“Of course. Tea sounds wonderful.” You replied, and watched as his eyes shifted over your shoulder.

The look on his face made your own smile falter. His eyes were fixed on Alina who stood behind you and his smile had turned into an awestruck expression, his eyes softening in ways they didn’t even soften for you.

“Miss Starkov, you look dazzling.” He commented and you suddenly felt very small, standing in the middle of them.

Her shy giggle sent a gravelly itch up your throat and you blinked a few times, trying to fight back a cough.

She thanked him and said something else, but you didn’t hear it because a dry, gritty cough came tearing up through your throat. You held your hands over your mouth frantically and doubled over. You felt a hand on your back and slowly you straightened yourself back up and gasped for air, the coughs ceasing.

“Are you alright? Would you like a bit of water?” You heard Alina ask and you shook your head, shifting your eyes downwards.

“What was that? Did you choke on a fly?” Aleksander asked with an amused little chuckle. You gave him a terse laugh in response and felt your throat burn again. Another much smaller and shorter cough reverberated through your chest and you held your hands tightly over your mouth. A warm, wet feeling coated your palms and your face paled.

Once you recovered you frantically balled your hands up in fists and lowered them to your sides, clearing your throat, “I’m not sure where that came from. I think I’ll go make some tea. Have a lovely dinner.” You murmured hoarsely and scurried past Aleksander, not bothering to look back at them. You made it halfway down the hallway before you slowly unfurled your hands and held them up so that you could see your palms.

They were sporadically coated in blood.

“You don’t have a cold, y/n. Perhaps it’s just the dry air. Winter is upon us.” Genya stated as she stirred a sugar cube into her tea.

You looked over your shoulder and expected to see Aleksander any time now and then you turned back to Genya with a shrug.

“I don’t know what else it could be. I can’t stop coughing.” You replied, leaving out the part where most of your coughs dragged blood up from your throat.

She hummed and took a sip of her tea before shaking her head, “No. Grisha don’t get sick, lovely. You can’t have a cold. Perhaps you’re allergic to something you’ve been smelling or using or eating. Anything new in your diet? Perfumes? Lotions?” She pressed and you shook your head, “Well, then I’m not sure what to tell you. See a Healer if you’re concerned about it but I’m telling you it’s likely the dry air.” She urged.

You looked down at your own tea and watched tendrils of steam climb the air above it. You let out a sigh and reached out to grab a sugar cube, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped and spun around, feeling instant relief when you saw that it was only Aleksander who had his hand on you. You sighed contently and leaned your cheek down against the back of his hand.

“Please, forgive me. I know I’m a bit late to tea. I just had a rather disappointing conversation with a few trackers.” He hummed and then pulled his hand away from your shoulder, leaving you with a certain kind of emptiness.

He slid into the chair next to you and grabbed your hand tightly, and you felt your heart beat a little bit faster. Genya must have heard it, because she smirked and quickly raised her teacup to her lips to hide it.

“You weren’t at breakfast this morning.” He commented and tapped your knuckles with the side of his thumb.

“I wasn’t feeling the best.” You drawled and looked up at his face. He didn’t seem overly concerned when you mentioned that you didn’t feel well, but he didn’t brush it off, either.

“Odd. Perhaps you should see my Healer.” He pressed and then he reached out and poured himself a cup of tea with his free hand before he released your hand.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you turned back to your own tea and took a sip of it, looking up at Genya who cleared her throat and stood up.

“Well. I’ll leave you two to it then. I’ve got to get back to the Queen.” She stated and gave you a small wave before scurrying off.

“Y/n. My Healer?” Aleksander pressed and you glanced up at him.

You gave him a polite shake of your head and you smiled, “No, it’s all okay. I feel much better now.” You insisted. And it was partially true. You did feel a bit better now that you had some tea.

You felt his onyx eyes on you as you turned back to your tea and before you could turn towards him, he reached up and brushed a bit of your hair back behind your ear.

“You look very tired.” He commented and frowned, letting his fingers linger against the side of your face for only a second before dropping them.

“I am tired. But I have a lot to do today. Besides, I’m getting fitted for my dress today. For the Fete.” You commented, trying to change the subject.

He hummed and then picked up his teacup, “What are you going to wear?” He asked curiously and he shifted his entire body towards you.

You looked over at him and slowly turned yourself to face him as well and you gave him a little smile, “Well, not red. That’s for sure. I picked something soft. Pink. A pretty pink dress.”

“Pink is a form of red.” Aleksander pointed out, an amused little smile forming on his perfect lips.

You giggled and then shook your head, reaching out to give his arm a very gentle smack, “Pink is a very nice color and even if it is red at the very core of it all, I will be wearing it.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and then he chuckled, “Determined little thing, aren’t you?” He asked and then set his teacup down, “I’m glad you’re coming. I was worried you would skip this Fete like you did last year.”

“Well, last year Vasily was all over me. And I hated it. Of course I didn’t go.” You remarked with a little snort. Aleksander laughed softly and shook his head, turning back to his tea.

You looked at him, your face softening. Everything about him seemed so… inviting in that moment. The way his hair was immaculately brushed back and curled around the back of his neck, the little curve of his lips as they stayed in their smile from your antics. His dark eyes shone with a rare light of humor and the light of the afternoon sun illuminated them perfectly as you stared at him from the side. He was so heartbreakingly beautiful.

And you wanted him so badly. You wanted to kiss him, you wanted him to hold you, you wanted him to look at you the way he’d looked at Alina the night before. You wanted to wear black with him and you wanted to be at his side during the Fete.

You were desperately in love with your best friend, and the worst part was that you could never tell him.

Your silence must have concerned him in some way, because he slowly turned to face you, the smile slowly vanishing from his face.

“Y/n, you look like you are about to cry, darling. What’s going on?” He asked softly and you shook your head a few times.

“N..nothing is wrong.” You lied and felt your throat begin to tingle with the familiar preceding another coughing fit, “I think I just need to go lie down. I feel… unwell.” You added, your voice getting weaker as you tried to keep a cough at bay.

“Please,” Aleksander began and slowly rose from his chair, “let me walk you to your room, my dear. You are starting to worry me a little bit, if I’m being perfectly honest with you.” He stated and held his arm out for you to take.

You reached up to grab his arm but instantly yanked your hands back and brought them to your face as you began to cough violently into your palms. The sharp, metallic taste of blood filled your mouth and you heaved forward on your chair, nearly falling off as you coughed. Aleksander’s strong hands caught your shoulders, and before you could protest, he was lifting you up into his arms.

“Alright. I’m going to take you to your room and then I’m going to send for a Healer. This isn’t natural. You shouldn’t be coughing like that.” He stated.

You held your hands over your mouth for a while longer as your coughs subsided and you blinked a few times. Once you were sure no more coughs were to come, you pulled your hands up into the sleeves of your kefta and you cleared your throat, wincing as it burned, “No, you don’t need to. I swear to the Saints it’s just allergies, Aleksander.” You said wheezily.

He looked down at your face and his brows furrowed together and he shook his head, “You have blood on your chin.” He commented and you gaped up at him.

You reached up and wiped your chin with the sleeve of your kefta and he simply shook his head. You closed your eyes exhaustedly and let him carry you the rest of the way to your room. Once he’d gotten you to your bedroom, he laid you out on your bed and frowned down at you.

“I’m sending a Healer up here. Don’t be stubborn, please let them help. I’d stay but I’m taking Alina riding. Promise me you will accept the help I send for you.” He said sternly and you opened your eyes.

You stared up at him, something snapping in your chest. He couldn’t even stay to make sure you were okay?

“That’s fine. I promise.” You said bitterly and then shook your head, “Have fun riding with Alina.”

You were sure he caught the bitterness in your tone, because he scowled slightly and then shook his head. He looked as if he might argue with you but instead he wordlessly turned on his heel and left your room, slamming your door behind him.

A brutal cough tore itself free from your chest and it sent you shooting up into a sitting position. You held your hands over your mouth to catch the droplets of blood that loosed themselves from your throat. Your throat burned as if you were swallowing acid and you miserably pulled your hands away from your mouth between coughs. You stared down at the blood in your hands and suddenly your stomach twisted. You launched yourself off of the bed and grabbed the waste bin that sat near your bed and you coughed violently into it until something sharp tore its way up through your throat and out of your mouth. You had to blink a few times before it registered what exactly sat in the once-empty waste bin; what exactly came out of your mouth. A small cluster of thorns lay in a thick puddle of your blood, and a cluster of bloody rose petals laid around it.

Your mouth hung agape as you stared down into the wastebasket and you pushed it away from you with a frightened yelp.

Something soft slid against your tongue and you reached up and shakily pulled a blood wetted rose petal off of your tongue, and it was the last thing you saw before your vision went black.

Something wet and cold mopped across your feverish forehead and you slowly opened your eyes. Someone’s hand moved back and forth in your line of sight and you heard a loud gasp before your hands were being clutched tightly. You cleared the fuzziness from your vision by blinking a handful of times and you slowly sat up a bit to see Genya standing over you with her hands clasping yours. A Healer stood at your bedside with a cloth in her hand and you looked back and forth between the two of them before you let out a raspy sigh.

“Y/n! Sweetheart! What is going on? Emilia found you this way. She said The Darkling sent her up here to you and that when she came in you were out cold on the floor.”

Emilia must have been the name of the Healer girl at your side and you looked over at her with a terse smile before you looked back at Genya. Her wide eyes were even wider with fear and you frowned, not wanting to have frightened her.

“I’m fine, I promise. It just must be aller-“

“It is not allergies!” Genya cut you off viciously and dropped your hand to point at the waste bin, “What kind of allergy has you throwing up… plants?” She demanded and you simply shrugged.

She exasperatedly squeezed the hand of yours that she still held and she frowned, “Emilia tried to heal you but couldn’t find anything wrong with you. Your lungs sound terrible but other than that, you’re healthy.” She said with worry lacing every word she spoke, “When The Darkling gets back from riding-“

You shook your head and held your hand up, “No. No we are not going to tell him a single thing, do you two understand me? You will tell him I am suffering allergies and will be fine in a week or two. I don’t want him around.” You said in a clipped tone.

Genya looked surprised when you said this but she didn’t protest. Instead, she comfortingly brushed her thumb across the back of your hand and let out a defeated little sigh, “Oh, honey. Are things that bad?”

You slowly looked up at Emilia and Genya did as well. Emilia looked between the two of you and she let out a little sigh.

“I’ll go get you some tea for your throat.” She said, excusing herself from the conversation that you so desperately wanted to keep private.

The moment the Healer left the room, you burst into tears. Your ragged breaths seemed to tear trenches into your throat as you cried and little coughs escaped your lips between sobs. You buried your face in your hands and barely noticed when Genya sat right next to you and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you against her side.

“Sweetheart, what happened? This afternoon you were all smiles for him.” She breathed and gently rubbed your arm, soothing your cries just slightly.

“Oh, Genya. I love him. I’m so very in love with him and he hardly gives me the time of day anymore. He speaks of Alina like she’s hung his entire sky. He looks at her like she’s more precious than jewels. He noticed I wasn’t feeling well, and he couldn’t even stay with me. He just tossed a healer at me and left to go with her. It hurts, Genya.” You cried, hiding your face against her shoulder.

The red haired girl stroked your hair and your back and your arm as you cried against her and at some point, reached out to grab the cool cloth Emilia had left behind. She gently dabbed it against your cheeks and the side of your neck and she frowned, letting you cry.

Your chest ached terribly at the idea that you loved your best friend who would never love you back, but it seemed to hurt more that you were all in all losing said best friend. Genya coaxed you down until your cheek was against her upper thigh and she ran her fingers through your hair, dabbing the cold cloth against your burning skin still.

“Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, honey.” Genya said softly, still trying to soothe you.

Tears rolled down your cheeks still, but your cries subsided for the most part. You exhaustedly closed your eyes and relaxed underneath the Tailor’s touch. You took painful, deep breaths and attempted to calm yourself. You laid in silence against Genya’s thigh for a long time, the only sounds being your sniffles and coughs and little whines. You desperately tried to clear your head of Aleksander, and nearly had, before your door swung open. You heard the handle smack against the wall, and heavy footsteps made their way across your floors. Aleksander. You laid still against Genya and prayed that he thought you were asleep.

“Emilia says it’s only allergies.” Genya said quietly and you felt her hand slow in your hair until it rested protectively against the crown of your head.

You heard him shuffle for a moment before he hummed, “She looks miserable.” He remarked.

He lifted his hand to touch your arm, but Genya shooed his hand away and shook her head.

“Let her sleep.” She murmured and you heard Aleksander snort.

“Well, according to my Healer, she’s been unconscious for three hours up until now. How is she sleeping again?” He asked and you could tell he didn’t believe you were asleep.

That didn’t stop you from pretending, still.

“Because she is feeling unwell. Why don’t you come and see her tomorrow morning?” Genya suggested and slowly began to drag her fingers through your hair again.

“I don’t want to see her tomorrow morning. I want to see her now.”

“I don’t think she wants to see you, moi soverenyi.” The Tailor countered.

The room was silent for a moment and then you heard the rustle of his kefta as he shifted in place. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting back every desire inside of you that screamed for you to launch yourself into his arms. Maybe if you did, he would carry you like he had earlier. You wanted to scream how you loved him in his face and cry on his chest about how he was hurting you. But you stayed rooted in the bed.

“Mm, alright then. Let her know that she needn’t seek me out then. If she truly does not want to see me. I won’t bother her.” He said coldly and you felt your face screw up in despair.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m only saying she likely doesn’t want to be bothered and roused from an already uncomfortable sleep just so you can ask her what I’ve already asked a hundred times. It’s just allergies. It happens with the turn of the seasons.” Genya explained calmly, her voice steady.

“I’ve known her for years now and she’s never had allergies at the turn of the seasons.” He stated.

“Well, that’s the only thing that it can be. The Healer said it herself. She’s perfectly healthy otherwise.” Genya insisted.

There was another long silence in the room and you could feel his near-black eyes boring into you, traveling your crumpled form. But he said nothing more. After a while, you heard his footsteps as he left the room and the door closed, much more carefully this time.

You didn’t dare open your eyes until Genya sighed and gently tapped the back of your head, “He’s not here, it’s okay.” She murmured and you slowly opened your eyes.

Another cry escaped your lips.

The next few days were absolutely miserable. You’d spent the first day and half in your room, and when Genya wasn’t waiting on you, you were alone. Aleksander didn’t come to see you once, and you came to accept that it was just going to be your new normal.

The first time you emerged from your bedroom in days was for dinner, and Genya held you tight to her side as she walked with you down to the dining hall. Normally, she didn’t eat with the other Grisha, but she had neglected many of her duties to the Queen to take care of you for the past two days.

Now, three days had passed since you had last seen- or heard, rather- Aleksander, and you sat out in the courtyard on the grass with Genya. The red haired girl had insisted that you needed sunlight and she sat and read under a tree with you while you laid your head in her lap. You could hardly speak, and when you did, your voice was raspy and quiet. Every now and then, the girl would look over her book to check on you, and each time she did, she’d give you a kind smile.

“Are you hungry?” She asked after a while and brought her hand up to your forehead to feel for your temperature.

You shook your head weakly and rubbed your cheek with the back of your hand, “I don’t have an appetite, admittedly.” You murmured and she clicked her tongue, but didn’t press the subject.

You tried your best to enjoy the cool breeze on your feverish cheeks, but you couldn’t seem to distract yourself from the pounding in your head and the raw burn in your throat.

“What are you reading?” You asked Genya absentmindedly and she hummed.

“Reading up on rare diseases. I found a few books that have information about sicknesses and accounts of Grisha becoming ill with certain ones. I thought maybe it would help us figure out what’s going on with you.” She stated and turned a page as if on cue.

A warm feeling tickled your nose and you felt it travel downwards until your skin was wet and you gasped and let out a curse. You sat up quickly and held your hand over your nose as it bled and you glanced down at the little bloody spot on Genya’s kefta.

“Saints. I’m so sorry. I’m such a mess.” You breathed and cupped your hands underneath your nose to catch the rapidly flowing blood.

The girl simply shook her head and pulled handkerchief out of her pocket and passed it to you, “Don’t be sorry. We can get the stain out easily.” She insisted, and you gratefully took the handkerchief from her and held it against your nose.

“Perhaps we should get you inside?” She suggested and you nodded once. You grabbed onto the tree with your free hand and balanced yourself as you rose to your feet. You felt winded as you stood and your throat began to prickle and you let out a groan that was cut short when you leaned forward and coughed viciously into the sleeve of your kefta. Little petals spewed out of your mouth as you coughed and got stuck with your blood onto the fabric of your sleeve, but you weren’t surprised anymore. Thorns and petals came along with the coughs now. At least now your nose had ceased its bleeding. You wiped your mouth with your sleeve and groaned in pain as you felt Genya touch your back.

“Oh, Saints. Hurry. Let’s go inside. The Darkling is out here.” She said in a hushed tone, and though you two tried to hurry into the palace, it seemed you weren’t fast enough, because Aleksander called your name.

You looked up at Genya worriedly and she took a glance at your face. Blood was smeared under your nose and on your chin and she let out a huff before she snatched the handkerchief from your hand and quickly cleaned up your face. She stuffed the soiled fabric into her pocket once more and you turned around just in time to see Aleksander approach you with Alina not far behind.

His kefta billowed like smoke behind him in the breeze and when he reached you, his face was nothing short of irritated and accusatory. His beautiful face was set in an angry grimace and his eyes were hard. You shied back slightly and felt Genya’s hand press encouragingly into your back.

“It must be rather fun ignoring me, since you’ve done it flawlessly for three days now.” He snapped and you looked down at your feet, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

“I haven’t felt well, I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

He snorted and reached out to grab your jaw, tilting your face up so that he could look down upon you, “That’s not an excuse. I don’t expect you to be prancing and frolicking around, but as someone who cares about you, I would at least like to be updated about your state.”

His words sent a shockwave of sadness through your chest and you frowned, your eyes watering. You blinked away your tears rapidly, refusing to cry in front of him and Alina. He let go of your face slowly and he shook his head.

“My dear, I worry about you, that’s all. I’m not truly angry, oh please don’t cry.” He said softly, his expression ridding itself of all anger as he watched your eyes gloss over with unshed tears.

You shifted your gaze over his shoulder and watched as Alina gently grabbed his arm and he subtly pulled her into his side. The action had you biting down on your cheek hard, a terrible cough fighting its way up your throat. You felt something sharp rise to the back of your throat and you shoved past all three of them to get inside of the palace, holding your hands over your mouth as you raced to your bedroom.

You were unsure of how you held it in for so long, but as soon as you got to your room, a violent retching sound ripped it’s way up through your chest and your throat and you fell to your knees and a slew of blood and petals came spewing out of your mouth. The heavy, sharp presence was still in the back of your throat and you coughed, and coughed, and coughed until you felt something shred the back of your throat and come loose. A rosebud tumbled from behind your lips, followed by a thick mixture of blood and saliva. You stared down at the sticky, bloody mess you had made all over your pale blue rug and you brought your shaky hands up to your clammy face, covering your mouth as you sobbed.

Your chest ached and burned as if you’d swallowed blades and you let out a shrill scream of frustration. You sunk down onto the floor even further and curled up into a ball, your cheek resting a bit too close to the sticky puddle of blood and floral matter. You were too exhausted to care. Everything hurt, nothing made sense. Every breath you took sent shards of glass sliding down your throat and you coughed again, bits of petals getting stuck to your bloodied lips. You slowly closed your eyes and shivered once, reaching down and holding your knees to your chest.

No one had followed you. Not even Aleksander. Even just thinking his name sent a pang of raw emotion through your chest and a few little tears rolled down your cheeks as you laid against the ruined carpets. Too busy with Alina. Too busy with everything. When did the busy excuses end? At what point did you need to accept that he didn’t love you as much as you loved him, and certainly not in the same way. You cursed yourself for thinking of him. Why were you thinking of him? He surely wasn’t thinking of you. You should have been thinking about why the hell you were sick.

But all you could think about was Aleksander.

You weren’t sure how or when, but at some point, you’d been moved up onto your bed and your blood-ruined dress had been switched out for a light, breathable nightgown. A hand dragged itself through your hair slowly and you almost thought you were imagining in your half-asleep state, until you heard voices.

“I don’t really care. I will remove someone from the frontlines if we must. I need a very, very good Healer and I need them promptly.”

You recognized Aleksander’s voice anywhere, and now that you were a bit more aware, you could tell that it was not Genya’s delicate little hand running through your hair.

It was his.

You kept your eyes closed and tried to enjoy the very minimally important action of his hand stroking your hair so gently.

“Then find someone. But I don’t think this is anything to worry about.”

That voice belonged to Genya, and you felt a sense of relief that she was still covering for you.

“Genya, do not give me excuses any longer. I know she is ill. To the extent and with what, I am unsure. But she is my dearest friend, and I will not be so easily deterred from finding a solution to her health.” He spoke quietly, as if he didn’t want to wake you and you felt your lip nearly wobble.

You didn’t know if you were joyful or devastated to hear him call you his friend. You longed for ignorance. You longed to think that he was here to confess his love for you, you wanted him to play with your hair like this for hours and hold you in his arms while you slept.

You wouldn’t get your wish, though.

“Sir, I think it would just be best to give her space.” Genya suggested quietly.

Aleksander’s hand stilled against your head and went rigid, “And why do you say that?” He asked coldly.

“Well, you just hardly… see her anymore. I think perhaps she’s a bit bothered by your neglect.”

“Has she told you this?”

“Yes.”

The room was silent and you wanted to sob as you felt his hand slowly leave your hair. You wanted to catch his wrist and bring it back, beg him to never let you go.

“Well, she always has been a bit of a jealous little thing. She’ll get over it. I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow sometime.” He said dismissively and you felt the bed move and assumed he had climbed off of it.

You waited until you heard him leave to open your eyes and you let out a long, ragged sigh. You felt the bed dip beside you and Genya was placing her hand against your forehead. She let out a little hum and then shook her head.

“You’re very lucky I managed to clean everything up before he came barging in here.” She said softly and reached down to grab your hand.

Tears welled up in your eyes and you blinked them away, shrugging.

“At some point we need to tell him what’s going on, Y/n.” She urged gently and then squeezed your hand as softly as possible.

You felt a little wave of gratefulness in your chest at Genya’s determined and dedicated presence and you squeezed her hand back, “Eventually.” You murmured and then closed your eyes again, still feeling exhausted.

“You sound terrible.” She noted and sat up against the headboard, resting her back against it. You very slowly rolled over and laid your head against her thigh and you sighed.

“You’re my best friend, Genya.” You murmured.

She let out a little sigh and she laid her hand on top of your head, “You really love him, don’t you?” She asked quietly.

You didn’t answer her at first. She knew the answer and so did you, but the moment you spoke it aloud, it became real and it became capable of ruining everything.

“Yes.” You finally answered in a squeak.

There was a silence that filled the air around the two of you and you felt her lean over the edge of the bed for a moment. When she settled back in her spot, she tapped your head very gently and cleared her throat.

“I found something. While you were sleeping.” She said almost nervously.

“What do you mean, ‘something’?” You asked and stared off at the wall ahead of you.

“I mean about your… condition.” She said quietly and you could hear her flipping through a book above you.

Finally, she laid the open book down in front of your face and you reached up with a shaking hand to grab it. You sat up slowly with a bit of her help and laid the book in your lap as you peered down at it. The pages were old and weathered but the drawings were clear as can be. Roses were sketched onto the page and you ran your fingers over the paper as you read the text next to it.

‘In extreme cases of unrequited love, the affected person will become sick with envy and begin to exhibit signs of serious illness…’

You blinked a few times and read through the recorded symptoms.

Every single one was something you were experiencing.

“No. Absolutely not.” You breathed and looked up at a frowning Genya.

“The symptoms are all there. This is what’s ailing you.” She said, her eyes growing watery.

“Genya-“

“I’ll spare you the heavy reading. There is no cure, not unless he confesses his true and honest love for you.”

You felt dread add itself to your already sore chest and you turned your head to look up at her.

“Oh.”

She brought her hands up and cupped your cheeks and she shook her head, “I swear, we won’t let you die. We will find a way. Me and Baghra, Saints, I’ll even tell Him-“

“You can’t tell him.” You whispered and looked up at her tearfully, “You have to swear to me that you will not tell him. Genya, I’m begging you. Let him just… let him be happy with his Sun Summoner. He’ll forget about me, he’s already beginning to.” You said and sniffled, reaching up to wipe your eyes.

Tears were falling down the redhead’s cheeks now and she shook her head, “No, this isn’t how it ends.” She said sternly and wiped her own eyes with the backs of her hands after she lowered them from your face.

You leaned your head against her shoulder and closed your eyes, “I’m so tired.” You whispered, feeling exhaustion course through your body at a rapid rate.

“Sleep, sweetheart. Please. I’ll stay here with you until morning.” Genya promised and you nodded.

She helped you lay back onto the pillow behind you and she tucked the comforter around your shoulders before feeling your forehead once again.

“Thank you for being so good to me.” You whispered and she gave you a heartbreakingly sad smile.

“What are friends for?”

The next morning was excruciating. A terrible coughing fit roused you from your sleep and you’d- yet again- made a bloody, flowery mess all over. This time, you helped Genya clean the mess up despite her protests. Once she’d helped you clean up, she announced that she had a hot bath drawn for you.

You followed her into your bathroom and pulled your clothes off before you stepped into the hot water and let out a long, relieved sigh as you sunk down into it and sat.

“I need to go tend to the Queen for a little while. I shouldn’t be too long. Will you be okay if I leave for just a few hours? If you need anything, I’ve already informed Baghra of your condition, you can go find her.” She explained and then gave you a little smile.

“You’ve been busy this morning.” You commented and she shrugged.

“Well, I’m just making sure you’ll be alright while we figure this all out.” She said softly and patted your head a few times, “Well, off I go. Please, please be careful. And if you have a coughing fit, do it over the tub. We can drain the water easily.” She said, half joking.

You bid her farewell and she left your room and you sank deeper into the water, letting it soothe your sore muscles, though it didn’t do much for your stinging throat and aching chest. You brought a hand to your forehead and you felt a wave of melancholia drag you down.

There was really no way that you were going to get out of this alive. It wasn’t like Aleksander was going to burst in on his knees and confess that he’d loved you the entire time, and you highly doubted that if a Healer couldn’t help you, then you were beyond help. You rubbed your temples very slowly and let out a very long, exasperated sigh, which triggered a few coughs. Little droplets of blood flew forward into the water from your mouth and you winced as a few petals loosed themselves from your throat as well. They floated atop the hot water and you picked one of the soft, pink petals up tentatively. It looked like a rose petal. It was a rose petal. You were grateful that it was only a few soft petals this time rather than the thorns and stems you’d cough up other times. You dropped the petal back in the water and you laid your head back against the edge of the bathtub weakly.

Your chin wobbled slightly and you closed your eyes just as tears started to stream out of them. You soundlessly cried as you sat in the steaming water and you reached up to hold your hands over your face as you cried. Soon enough, your cries were no longer soundless and you sobbed into your hands. Your whole entire body hurt and you were in agony. Emotional and physical agony. You wished for it all to stop and you pulled your hands away from your face and gripped the edges of the tub as you continued to cry with your eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Your mind wandered to Aleksander, something it often did, and you gasped painfully. You could practically feel his fingers running through your hair again, and you pictured what it would have been like if he had gathered you in his slender arms instead of just messing with your hair. The thought brought you a split second of comfort before it brought on waves of pain, crashing against your chest like rogue waves in a tumultuous ocean.

Oh, you loved him. You couldn’t just stop loving him. Even though you sat and wished so desperately that you could. You gripped the edges of the tub impossibly tight and sputtered out a few heavy coughs that left your chest feeling split open. Your bathwater was tinged pink now and there was an arrangement of fragmented and full rose petals floating around in the water.

A little tap made you open your eyes and you looked up to see Aleksander standing in the doorway of your bathroom. You made a move to cover yourself but he simply shook his head.

“I’m not looking, it’s okay.” He stated, staying in the doorway.

You glanced away from him sadly and you gave him a nod. You heard his boots tap against the marble floor and you heard a bit of rustling before you turned your head towards him again to see that he was now kneeling at the side of your tub.

“You look terrible. Really, really terrible.” He commented.

“Thanks. You really know how to make someone feel great, Aleksander.” You snapped and narrowed your eyes at him.

He let out a sigh and shook his head a few times, “You’re still lovely. You just look miserable. Have you looked in a mirror recently? You look malnourished, you look poorly rested. Your face is sunken, your eyes are lifeless, you look terrible.” He explained and you laid your head down on the edge of the tub.

“I’ll be fine.” You said nonchalantly.

“Yeah, you all keep trying to tell me that but I don’t believe it all that much. Look at you. You can’t even move without it looking like it’s causing you pain.”

“What do you care?” You asked and closed your eyes, biting back a sob.

“What do I care? What do I care? Are you an imbecile? I care more than you seem to even care to imagine!” He snapped angrily and stood up abruptly.

“Whatever. I know you’d rather be with your Sun Summoner right now. Please just go.”

“Saints, you’re such a bitter thing! You knew what the Sun Summoner coming here would mean. You know what it does mean. Get over yourself, this is bigger than you and your need for attention!” He exclaimed.

Though he hadn’t, you felt as if he’d lifted you to your feet and slapped you until you fell. You slowly opened your eyes and looked up at him. Your eyes grew glossy with tears and you bit down on your cheek before you shifted your eyes away from a seething Aleksander.

“Please just go away.” You whimpered and brought your hands up to your face, hiding it from his sight.

You cried silently for a moment and you rubbed your eyes vigorously before lifting your head out of your hands to tell him once more to leave.

But he was already gone.

The week leading up to the winter fete was exhausting.

Not that you had been doing much other than laying around in your room and taking brief walks whenever Genya had a moment to accompany you outside.

Nothing had improved though.

You were still weak, still coughing, still in pain. Nothing was better, in fact, it seemed to only worsen by the day.

The day of the fete was upon you and you had argued with Genya for nearly two hours so that she’d let you go. Finally, she had conceded and told you that you could go as long as you left early and were very, very careful not to cough around anyone.

“And if you start feeling worse, you’re going right back to bed. Do you understand me?” Genya asked critically as she held a big, white box to her chest. Your dress. She was holding it hostage until you agreed to her terms.

“Yes, fine, anything! I’ve waited so long to go.” You weren’t sure why you were so excited to go to the fete. You had previously been excited to go because you’d be going with Aleksander, but of course, that wasn’t the case now. You hadn’t seen him in nearly a week. Genya told you he’d been in to check on you while you slept, but you doubted it. You doubted a lot when it came to Aleksander these last seven days.

Genya set the box down on a small table near the fireplace in your room and she opened it up, humming softly to herself as she did, “Pink? I didn’t pin you as a pink girl.”

“Well, I am one. And it’s pretty, isn’t it?” You asked and watched as she pulled the gown out from the box.

It was beautiful. It was a pale shade of blush pink with long sleeves and lots of beautiful embroidery and bead work. The dress earned you an approving sound from Genya and she looked over at you as you sat on the edge of your bed.

“It is pretty, yes. I’m a bit worried you’ll stain it.” She said and eyed you with a frown, “Are you sure you want to go? You’re still so sick. Worse, even.” She said with a frown as she walked towards you and laid the dress out on the bed at your side.

“I want to go. We can go together. Besides, I’ve been stuck in here for so long now.” You said, sighing dramatically. Your throat burned with your sigh and Genya watched as you brought your fingers to your throat.

She quickly grabbed the waste bin next to your bed and held it up to you and you grabbed it. You coughed over it painfully for a few minutes, an array of petals and a few small thorns freeing themselves from your inflicted lungs. Genya held her hand against your back comfortingly and waited for you to spit the last of the sticky blood out and then she gently took the waste bin from your hands. She passed you a glass of water from your bedside table and you sipped it, even though it felt like you were swallowing broken glass.

“Y/n, you look awful.” Genya said sadly and pushed some of your limp hair away from your face.

You knew she was right. Your entire face had sunken in and you were aware of the dark circles under your eyes. Any luster your hair or skin once had was now gone and you looked dull and lifeless. You looked almost like a walking corpse. Your nails were thin and brittle and your lips were chapped and had traces of dried blood on them. You did look awful.

Realistically, you could use your abilities and make yourself look better, but you had absolutely no energy to do so. You were lucky if you had the energy to get up and take a walk with Genya. You sighed quietly and wiped your lips with the back of your hand and shrugged once. You shakily passed the glass of water back to Genya and you rubbed your eyes.

“Will you help me get ready? Nothing fancy, I just don’t wanna look so unhealthy.” You asked quietly and she nodded a couple of times.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead and then offered her hands down towards you. You accepted them gratefully and pulled yourself to your feet with her help and she passed you your dress.

“Go change, I’ll help you button up.” She prompted and you took the dress from her and wandered off towards the dressing screen in the corner of your room.

You slid behind it and undressed yourself with weak, shaking hands, and you pushed your nightdress off of your body. You tossed it aside and then took on the next task of stepping into the soft pink gown. You climbed into the dress clumsily and once you’d pulled the sleeves on and gotten it situated on your body, you wandered out from behind the screen. Genya awaited you by your bed and you made your way over to her and turned around so that the undone back of your dress faced her.

“You need to promise me one more thing.” Genya said quietly as she began to button up your dress nimbly.

“What is it?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at the redheaded girl.

“Avoid the Darkling at all costs tonight please. Your condition worsens after he’s around, I’ve seen it. Please just, don’t seek him out, stay away from him. Have fun, mingle, have a drink, but leave him alone. For your sake, please.” She begged softly and then finished buttoning your dress.

You nodded compliantly and you ran your hands down the front of your dress, smoothing it all down before turning around to face her. You smiled up at her and she pointed at a chair in the middle of the room.

“Sit. I’ll fix up your hair and make you look a little less tired.” She said softly and you walked towards the chair. You sat down in it and you closed your eyes, a prickling becoming bothersome at the back of your throat. You swallowed it down and winced at the sharp pain sliding back down your throat.

You just had to get through tonight.

Genya stood behind you and she worked at your hair for a while until it was in simple waves. She then walked around to face you and she determinedly waved her hand over your face a few times slowly. After nearly fifteen minutes of this, she pulled away from you and handed you a hand mirror.

“I did all that I could. How do you feel about it?” She asked.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror and hummed. Though you still looked frail, you didn’t look nearly even half as bad as you had beforehand. You looked as if perhaps you hadn't slept in a few days but otherwise you seemed healthy. You looked up at her with a smile and you nodded, passing the mirror back to her.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you.” You said softly and she gave you a sweet smile in return and kissed the top of your head.

“I have to help the Queen get ready. Will you wait for me? I’ll come back and accompany you to the party.”

You looked over at her and gave her a little nod and stood up from the chair you sat in. You gave your friend a little hug and she hugged you back delicately, as if she was afraid you’d break.

“Thank you. Really, Genya. For everything.”

“Don’t start talking like that. It almost sounds like goodbye and I won’t have it. I’ll see you in an hour or two.” She stated and then marched out of your room.

Goodbye. You scoffed. You didn’t even want to think about goodbye yet.

But of course now you were faced with the reality of it all. There was no obtainable cure to your ailment. The thought of it spread dread through your body like you’d never felt before and you felt even sicker than you ever had prior to today.

A particular wave of nausea had you sprinting to the waste bin by your bed and you dropped to your knees and retched into it, your throat getting sliced up with an especially sharp slew of blood and thorns and a few battered petals. The door behind you opened and you heard a gasp from the doorway and wiped your face with the back of your hand before you turned around.

Still on your knees, you looked up to see Aleksander’s personal favorite Healer, Emilia, standing in the doorway. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before she walked towards you and gently helped you to your feet. She looked over your shoulder into the wastebasket and then she looked up at your face, her mouth making a little ‘o’. She glanced back in the bin and then she shook her head.

“Are those…?”

“Yes. They’re petals. Why are you here?” You asked and slowly sat down on the edge of your bed.

“The Darkling sent me to check on you.” She whispered and then she placed her hand on your head, feeling your temperature.

“Genya is doing a fine job on her own, thank you, Emilia.” You wheezed and then leaned your head into your hands.

She stayed put for a moment and looked back and forth between you and your bloody, flowery vomit and then she gave you a tedious nod, “Yes, okay. I’m sorry to have intruded.“ she said quietly and you gave her only a small hum in response before she scuttled out of the room, retreating as if you were some feral dog, before you could even think to stop her. You would have certainly been wise to.

You glanced at the door and felt a cold, sick dread fill your stomach. She was going to tell Aleksander.

You sat, slumped, in the chair by your fireplace and you closed your eyes, letting out labored breaths. Your chest had become impossibly tight and you sat in fear that Aleksander would burst in and berate you at any moment now.

Your eyes filled with tears at the thought of just Aleksander and you wrapped your arms around yourself. It wasn’t like you couldn’t miss him. He was, at the end of the day, your best friend. Or at least, he had been. You didn’t really know where you stood with him now.

Panic gripped your lungs when you heard hurried footsteps down the hallway and when the door swung open you winced. No yelling ensued and you turned around to see Genya standing in the doorway, gazing over at you with a little frown.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” She asked softly as she strode towards you.

You simply gave her a little nod and you rose to your feet off of the chair and grabbed onto the hand she was now extending for you. She helped you steady yourself and she frowned once, pulling you into a gentle side hug.

“Okay. The party has already started, I hope you don’t mind. There was a… choreographed display. Of shadow and light.” She explained slowly and then glanced down at you. You knew who she was talking about. Aleksander and Alina.

She gave you a sympathetic smile and you realized your face must have fallen, “I just figured you didn’t want to have to watch them.”

“No, I appreciate it. Thank you, Genya.” You said quietly and then nodded towards the door, “Let’s go. I don’t want to be out long tonight, I don’t think.” You murmured, a frown ever present on your face.

She nodded just once and whisked you out of your room. The walk from the Little Palace to the Grand Palace was made in comfortable silence and you leaned your head against Genya’s shoulder. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and gently patted your arm, and you let out a small sigh. As soon as the two of you walked inside of the Grand Palace, you instantly regretted coming to the fete.

People were crowded around the hallway and spilled out from the room of the event, leaving you hardly any space to breathe. You wrapped both of your arms around Genya’s and you nearly buckled under the wave of nausea that crashed over you.

Genya slowly pulled away from your side and she grabbed your hand and nodded towards the grand hall, “I’m going to go get a drink. Would you like one?” You nodded idly and she gave your hand a little squeeze, “Okay. Stay here. Don’t get around too many people.” She advised and you nodded again.

She scurried off hurriedly down the hall and you looked down at your dress. You ran your fingers down the embroidered bodice and you let out a little sigh. You sorely regretted not staying in bed and you looked around at the other partygoers. Some were drunk, others were just boisterous. Most hid their sordidness underneath fine clothes and expensive perfumes. You looked down at your feet and felt guilty for making Genya drag you to the party and you turned to go find her.

“Y/n!”

You turned around to see Alina bustling towards you with two guards in tow behind her. You had to blink back the urge to cry when you saw her. She wore a black kefta with yellow and gold embroidery and her hair was done up beautifully. The nausea hit you harder and you held your hand over your stomach instinctively, giving her a terse smile.

“Hello.” You breathed and leaned back up against the wall behind you.

“You look beautiful.” She commented sweetly, “Feeling better?” She asked and you gave her a bleary nod.

“Mhm, so much better.” You mumbled and sucked in a deep breath through your nose. A sharp feeling began to climb the back of your throat and you began to panic.

“I’m glad to hear, you look so pretty. I’ve missed you readying me.” She admitted and then chuckled nervously.

One of the guards leaned forward and mumbled something in her ear and she frowned, but nodded.

“I have to get going. But please, come see me tomorrow.” She pleaded and you gave her a simple nod, your throat and chest beginning to ache and burn all the same.

The guards urged her forward and everything began to sound as if you were underwater. You stared off absentmindedly after Alina and frowned deeply. Aleksander strode down the hall towards her and his eyes fell upon you. His stern expression seemed to falter a bit when he looked at you and you glanced down at the bundle of flowers he had in his hands. Your eyes filled with tears involuntarily and you watched as he stopped the guards that stood with Alina and he passed her the flowers before he locked eyes with you again.

Your face burned with shame and sadness and your vision began to blur and shift and you pushed away from the wall dizzily, ignoring the muffled shouts of your name coming from his mouth. You shoved past a few people and gathered the skirts of your dress up in one hand and you rushed down the hallway. You stopped briefly a few times to steady yourself against the wall and you felt a sickening pressure at the back of your throat. You just had to make it back to your room.

You carried on almost deliriously and you made your way into the nearly totally empty Little Palace. You bustled up the stairs with your hand over your mouth when a sharp cough ripped its way up your throat and you heaved forward, falling to your knees on the stairs as you coughed violently. Tears burned in your eyes and fell down your cheeks helplessly as you spewed the hot, metallic mixture of your blood and bile over your gloved hand. You crawled up the stairs weakly and you pushed yourself to your feet, leaving a bloody smear on the marble floor. You stumbled hurriedly down the hall to your room and you threw your door open as soon as you could. You fell to your knees again and let out a long, sad wail before you were coughing out thorns and petals all over the pristine skirt of your dress.

The flowery vomit looked even worse tonight, and the blood mixed in with it was darker and there was much more of it. You coughed and heaved and choked on whatever was in your throat until an entire rose bloom came hurtling out of your mouth. You stared down at it shakily and reached out to touch it before you coughed again, much harder this time. Blood flew from your open mouth all over your carpet and your dress and your chin and you cried loudly, lowering yourself to the floor weakly. You reached up shakily to wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and you looked around at the bloody mess you had made and you whimpered.

You thought about Aleksander again as you coughed more, your chest feeling as if it was going to collapse at any moment. You missed him. You desperately wished it was you that he gave his affections to. You loved him. It became impossibly hard to breathe and you could see black spots dancing in your vision and you could swear you heard him calling out for you; Something so bittersweet that brought you so much comfort as you laid in a mess of your own blood and shredded flower petals. Your heart pounded against your chest and you could feel cold exhaustion climbing up around your mind. You could still hear his voice, closer now. You weren’t sure if you were ready to die, but at least you could try and make peace with it. You drew in a labored breath and then found yourself gasping in fear as you felt two hands grip your arms.

You were yanked up against somebody and you slowly looked upwards to see Aleksander kneeling over you, holding you against his chest.

“Say something, dammit!” He ordered, but his voice sounded far away.

You tried to speak his name but your chest seemed to collapse in on itself and you turned your head to cough away from him, not wanting to get any blood on him. As soon as you finished coughing, he gripped your chin and turned your head towards his and he stared down at you wildly.

“Y/n, I really, really need you to say something.” He pleaded and you weren’t sure if you were imagining the glint of unshed tears in his eyes or not.

You let out another wail and you tried to push away from him, but his arms were like steel around you and you were too weak to even attempt to get away from him, so you resigned to crying in his arms.

“Aleksander.” You wheezed and weakly grabbed onto the lapel of his kefta.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” He demanded and cradled you gently against his chest.

“You don’t care!” You cried, finding your very, very weak voice suddenly.

“I do care!”

“You don’t! You just care about Alina, you want Alina, you need Alina, you’re in love with Alina. You don’t care, and I don’t expect you to. Why should you? It’s my own miserable fault for falling in love with you.” You sobbed and felt as if you were going to vomit again.

Aleksander didn’t say a single word. Instead, he leaned down until his forehead was touching yours and he nudged his nose against yours just slightly. You fought to get away from him, but he didn’t allow you to move. He shushed you softly as you cried and attempted to get as far away from him as possible and you sobbed, grabbing at his wrists.

“Stop! Please just leave me alone! I can’t take this.” You cried and hit his chest, but he still didn’t move.

Tears rolled down your cheeks and you sniffled and eventually stopped trying to get away from him. He seemed to want to make it hard for you until your bitter end. One of his hands was gently moving through your hair as it had many nights ago and you whimpered, a sound that broke his heart.

“I care. More than you know, little love.” He murmured and kept his forehead pressed against yours, “You think I don’t care? How could I not? You are so special to me.”

You cried and subconsciously leaned into his touch as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Please stop.” You begged. You wanted to cover your ears.

“Stop what? Do you not want to hear how I care? How I feel ashamed of myself for making you feel as if I don’t? Do you not want to hear about how in love with you I am?” He asked in a whisper and you froze. His hand continued to sweep through your hair and you let out a loud cry and struggled against his arms as he lifted his forehead away from yours.

“You’re lying.” You sobbed and brought your hands up to your face as you cried into them.

“I’d never lie to you about something like this.” He insisted softly.

“You are lying.”

“How can you accuse me of that?” He asked, his tone incredulous.

“Because I’m dying! I’m dying and you know it’s what I want to hear!” You argued, but you let your head fall against his chest nonetheless.

“I don’t lie. I’ve never lied to you. Saints, you’re inconsolable. I have my own reasons for getting close to Alina, but none of them are even close to being because I’m in love with her. No, my love is saved for you and you alone.” He murmured, “I have loved you for years. Ages. For so long, hoping and praying that perhaps you’d see me in the same light one day. I never wished for it to be like this.” He finished, voice breaking just slightly at the end.

You felt the tightness in your chest ease up just a little bit and you pulled your head away from his chest so that you could look up at him, only to find him already gazing down at you. You studied his face for any sign that he might be lying to you and when you found none you leaned your head against the side of his arm. You weakly nuzzled your cheek against it and you could hear him let out a long sigh.

“Are you going to tell me what is wrong with you? Or are you just going to leave that to my Healer relaying information to me?” He asked and you shrugged once, more pressure leaving your chest.

You let out a pathetic sounding sigh and you clung to him as if someone was going to take him from you and you quietly began to explain your condition to him, leaving little to nothing out. When you finished, the silence around the two of you was painful and you looked up at his face. He seemed angry and he seemed as if he was going to cry, but he looked down and met your eyes, and everything on his face melted into sadness.

“I did this to you?” He asked quietly and you shook your head.

“You couldn’t possibly have known. I mean, I didn’t. None of us did until Genya found it in a book.” You murmured and he gathered you entirely against his chest.

“I’m so, so sorry.” He breathed, his voice practically trembling.

“No, please. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, everything is okay now.” You said hoarsely and he shook his head once but didn’t argue further.

He stayed quiet for a moment before he sniffled and then slowly rose to his feet, pulling you with him, “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? And then you can lay in my room.” He suggested quietly.

“Okay.” You whispered, leaning against him entirely.

You sat in Aleksander’s bed an hour or two later, wrapped in a few thick blankets. You watched him scurry around his room as he tried to ready himself for bed and you smiled affectionately. After a moment he turned to you and let out a small sigh.

“What are you smiling at? You should be sleeping.”

“Can’t. Not without you.” You murmured and he blew out a few candles in the room before he came and crawled into bed next to you, his arms snaking around your waist. He tugged you against his chest protectively and he let out a long sigh.

Your damp hair was splayed out over the pillow behind your head and you pushed it away from him, clearing a little space for his head on your pillow. He took the hint and scooted his face closer to yours and he nudged his nose against yours a few times.

“You looked so beautiful tonight. In the hallway. In your pretty dress. I think pink might be your color now.” He said sweetly and you shook your head, leaning in to peck his lips a few times.

He took the opportunity to capture your lips in a deep, long kiss and finally when the two of you were properly breathless, you pulled away and shook your head.

“Forget pink. Black looks nicer on me, anyway .”

#aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x you #the darkling x you #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling imagine #the darkling #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadow and bone imagine #grishaverse #shadow and bone #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine

2K notes · View notes

nuemanfilms · 2 months ago

Text

Problem | S.W

Summary when Sam and Dean are stumped on a case, Dean dials your number for help despite knowing how things ended between you and Sam. Atleast you both didn’t have any hard feelings.

Warnings unprotected piv (wrap it), praise, creampie, car sex, semi-public sex, pet names (Baby, Sweetheart), Riding, Boners in awkward situations, fem!user, angsty start, mentions of self hatred, mentions of the breakup, Dean being Dean, not really a sub/dom dynamic between the two, 2k words, let me know if i missed anything!

A/n deans kinda the cupid LMAO, this was so fun to write. Comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

16+ I am not responsible for the content you consume under that age.

The case that Sam and Dean were assigned wasn’t exactly as easy as they initially thought. Sam wasn’t exactly that focused on it anyways, and Dean could see that guilt that Sam had attempted to his for months.

Ever since Sam broke things off with you, he regretted every moment of it as each day went past. He remembered how the tears stained your cheeks, he remembered how he was the one who made them appear in the first place. And he hated every single second of it. He thought he was protecting you, he wanted to protect you. Just, he didn’t want to upset you in that way, that wasn’t the way he intended.

He really was a dumbass wasn’t he?

You always helped him and Dean through cases, you were the one who kept Sam at bay when he woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. You kept Sam grounded, and losing you was one of the worst mistakes he’d made since losing Jessica.

You were there for him when he needed it, and Sam mentally kicked himself everyday for hurting you that night. He didn’t think he could forgive himself.

Dean saw the way Sam’s demeanor changed, he saw the look of guilt and regret on his younger brother’s face when he walked back into the motel room. And he hated every second of seeing Sam like that.

Dean probably shouldn’t have interfered, but the brothers were both stumped on this case. Sam’s lack of focus didn’t exactly help either. So, Dean called you.

“Why would you call her, Dean? She probably doesn’t want to even see me.” Dean sighed at his brother’s wrecked state.

“Sam, as much as I know you regret it, this could give you a chance. Well, both of you have a chance to fix things.” Dean tried to explain, yet Sam just argued.

“She probably hates me.” Sam held his face in his hands, his head was already starting to throb just at the thought of your possible hatred against him.

“She doesn’t. She wouldn’t have agreed to come if she did, okay?” Sam looked up at Dean, mentally cursing himself for knowing that his brother was right.

When Sam was about to respond, the doorknob twisted. Your figure stepping into the motel room.

You looked better than when he last saw you. He looked at you. Seeing that your eyes were already trained on him had him feeling something he couldn’t identify himself. But what he could make out from your gaze was that there was no anger behind your irises.

He wanted to greet you, but the words were stuck in his throat. Sam didn’t even know how to begin. He was lost in his thoughts before Dean interrupted, “There’s a house a few blocks from here, the last thing that anyone witnessed was around there.”

Making the way out the door to the Impala made Sam keep his eyes on the concrete before he finally got to the passenger side. He didn’t even know if you wanted to speak to him, and he highly doubted that you did.

The car ride seemed agonizingly slow, the silence was loud, even though the sound of radio was heard, Sam couldn’t pull himself out of his thoughts until the car came to a stop. He sighed, opening the door hesitantly to step out. He could feel your eyes on him, but he was too scared to look back.

When the door opened and shut behind you and the brothers, you could already feel the strange aura of the house.

“You two, go look upstairs. I’ve got down.”

Sam tensed, yet he complied. His footsteps cautious as you followed behind him.

The walk was silent before you spoke up, startling Sam.

“I don’t hate you for what happened, y’know.” Your voice was quiet, but Sam heard it. His shoulders slightly relaxed before he had the courage to respond, “You should, I was a dick to you that night.” He muttered, you stopped in front of him.

“Sam,” He finally made eye contact with you, your gaze was soft.

“I know- I know things didn’t end ideally, but do you really think that I think that low of you?” Sam remembered that tone, the tone that you used when he always talked down to himself. He knew how that annoyed you.

“I didn’t want it to go like that, I didn’t want you to get hurt because of what.. we do.” He admitted, before you could respond he pulled you into the small space of a closet. Slapping his hand against your mouth to keep you quiet. Whatever that creature was, it was most likely about to get you both.

You could’ve protested, you could’ve made Sam let you go, but you didn’t. You relaxed against his chest, not even bothering to move.

The feel of you against his body again, even if it was clothed, it felt relieving knowing that he had you in his arms again. Despite the situation that you both were in.

He carefully lifted his hand from your mouth, letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. He didn’t realize that the closet was this small until he tried to move away from you. Only to be met with the wall.

“Sam,” You whispered, he didn’t respond. You started again, “Sam!” he snapped his head towards you, seeing your hand on the door knob.

“It’s jammed.” You sighed, he internally cursed himself, he should’ve known. You’d both have to wait until Dean found you both after killing the creature.

This wasn’t exactly the appropriate time for him to think those thoughts, but in his defense, it’d been months since he’d even seen you, or have you pressed this close against him. He could feel the body heat radiating from your much smaller frame.

Your ass pressing against his front, despite it being accidental, had him cursing his hormones for even forming the bulge in his jeans. He prayed that you couldn’t feel it, but the universe never really was on his side.

“Sam..” he froze, you definitely felt him pressing against you. He had to prepare himself mentally for your next words, “Do you seriously have a boner right now? Out of all times?” You knew he couldn’t exactly control it, but you also found it a little funny that his body would have this reaction in the most inappropriate situation ever.

“I- I can’t help it..” He had to stifle a groan when you pressed further back against him, “Stop. Stop moving-“ His hands flew to grab your hips in an attempt to still them. He was grateful that the closet was dark enough so you couldn’t see his flushed face.

He could already imagine the teasing smile appearing on your lips. Could this seriously get any worse?

“Just- Dean’s going to find us soon, can you try and ignore it? Please?” He pleaded, and he heard your small laugh, “Yeah, sure.” You had to suppress your laughter, you both didn’t exactly need to get caught by whatever was lurking anyways.

Finally, after at least a few moments, Dean found you both. He already had a smirk curling on his lips when he saw you guys’ compromising position.

“You two look… cozy.” Dean teased, “Shut up, Dean.” Sam grumbled, he had expected that smile on your lips that was forming.

The walk to the Impala was torturous, between trying to ignore his brother’s teasing and trying to get his little problem under control.

The drive was nearly worse. And of course, Dean was pulling into a bar. The engine shutting off had Sam sighing in relief.

“Are you both staying here?” Dean checked, Sam definitely wasn’t prepared for your response.

“Yeah, go.” Damn it, that shit-eating grin on Dean’s face made Sam mumble something under his breath. When the car door shut, you waited for Dean to get at least closer to the bar door before you spoke, “Is your problem still an issue?” Sam froze, this time he was stiff enough to be seen as a statue. He gulped before whispering a response, “Uh, N-No?” He stuttered, you hummed in response. Climbing from the backseat into the front and taking your place in his lap. His legs parted slightly on instinct.

“Do you know how hard it’s been to sit in that damn apartment without you? How annoying it is to lay back in my bed without you there to help me come?” He was taken aback by your words, but you always were bold on what you wanted.

Sam could stop the words that flew from his mouth, “I- please.” Your eyebrows shot up, even though that was exactly what you wanted to hear, you were still surprised. When you grinded your hips against his now more obvious bulge, his hands now gripped on your hips faster than before. You knew the effect you had on him, and he let out a soft moan from his parted lips.

You leaned in, just a few millimeters away from his lips. Your breath hitting his lips made him finally press his own against yours. You were still for a minute before melting into it, your lower half pressed more firm against his pelvis. Your hands traveled to his now grown out locks, your fingers giving them a tug had him letting out a groan against your lips.

You pulled back for a moment to slide your shirt over your head, sliding your shorts down as best as you could leaving you in lace. You planned this didn’t you? Sam should’ve known, yet he was too focused on your lips back against his to even give a damn.

His hands roamed over your body, his lips trailing down from your own to press open-mouthed kisses to your skin as he worked his way down to your collarbone. You moaned, your hands eagerly working on his belt to get him freed from his confines.

“Fuck, you should’ve called sooner.” He smirked against your flesh, “If I did, I wouldn’t be able to have you like this right now.” You slid his belt out of the loops, your fingers pulling down the zipper. You were getting aroused yourself, you already were on the car ride.. but you were practically soaking your panties now.

When he met your lips again, your hand had already slithered its way into his boxers. You took his length in your palm and he let a groan slip past his lips. His lips parted just the slightest and he felt your tongue enter his mouth. The kiss becoming messy, but it still held so much passion and desperation that was pent up for the months spent apart.

He pulled away for a second, looking down as you lined him up with your entrance.

“Are you-“

“Yeah, yeah I'm on the pill.” He was about to let out a sigh of relief before he felt you sinking down on his cock. Fuck, he missed this.

He kissed you again, trying to distract you a little from the stretch of him filling you again. You were still the best he’d ever had. You gasped against his lips as he bottomed out.

“Sam..” You whined, it’d been so long. Normally he would have prepared you with his fingers, but he knew you were both too desperate for foreplay.

“Shh, you’re taking me- fuck, taking me so well, hm? ‘S okay, baby.. it’s gonna feel good soon, okay?” He cooed, you bit your lip. The fact that anyone could have seen you both slipped past your minds.

After a few moments, you lifted yourself up before finally sinking back down. Setting a pace yourself with his hand going down to assist you while the other trailed down to your puffy button. Your moans were pornographic, it’s not like Sam’s noises were any less vulgar. Despite the small space of the impala, you always managed to make it work as it wasn’t exactly you guys’ first time doing this.

“Yeah- atta’ girl.. see? Feels good, doesn’t it?” He finished the sentence with a moan of his own. You nodded your head, but you knew he wanted words. He always did, and you didn’t hesitate to provide.

“So good, Sammy- feel so good inside m’ pussy..” You praised, he groaned at your filthy use of words. He bucked his hips up involuntarily and you let out a cry. The creamy ring forming at his shaft had him holding back his impending orgasm just at the sight of it. He wanted you to come first, he wanted to feel you let go.

“Mm, yeah- that’s it.. good girl.” You let out a sound between a moan and a whine at his encouragement. Sex had always been so pleasurable between the two of you. You always fit together perfectly.

When your moans became more drawn out, he knew you were close. The way your hips were stuttering, requiring his help to keep you moving, and the way you hid your face in his neck.

“Nono.. let me see you. Let me see your pretty face, hm? Let me see my girl when she comes..” You lifted your head, your lips were swollen from his kisses, and the pleasure was getting so much especially with his two fingers rubbing at your clit with no intention of slowing.

“Can I? Can I come, Sammy?” You pleaded, you always begged so nicely, how could he refuse that?

“Yeah, Sweetheart. C’mon, let me feel you squeezing me..” You stilled for a moment, the steamy, hot pleasure rushing to your core had you crying out his name as you came. He wasn’t that far behind. He helped you ride out your orgasm, his fingers drawing away from your bud so both hands could help your movements on his cock. He let out more groans, and finally emptied himself inside of your abused cunt.

“Shit, Baby..” Your breathing both heavy as you attempted to calm down from your orgasms. Sam grabbed some random napkin from the dashboard to help clean you up at least for the time being. He’d properly clean you when you were both at the motel.

You whined as he lifted you off his cock, his release threatening to spill. Luckily, your panties were back on before it could. He helped you into the backseat as he then tucked himself back in his boxers, zipping up his jeans. He’d fasten his belt later. He quickly exited the car to enter the backseat. Carefully sitting in the spot next to you.

Your head leaned into his chest, he smiled at your content, satisfied state. Knowing he was the one who caused it had washed the guilt from earlier clean.

“Won’t let you go this time, promise.” You smiled, “Good, because I'm not leaving anytime soon.”

#sam winchester smut #supernatural #fem!reader #sam winchester #jared padalecki #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader

306 notes · View notes