#i laugh through the sobs every time. every time! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lapislaprima · 10 hours ago

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For a moment, the entire world seemed to stand still as Sebastian’s words washed over you.

The initial shock of seeing him here, in this dark, twisted place, slowly ebbed away. In its wake, a different, softer emotion took its place—something warm and familiar, something you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. The fear, the confusion—it was still there, lingering at the edges of your mind, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming relief of seeing him again.

He looked different, yes. There were new shadows beneath his changed eyes, a weariness that hadn’t been there before. His features were sharper, the lines of his face hardened by whatever he had been through. His body was morphed into different animal parts... But beneath it all, it was still him. The man you had loved so deeply, the man you thought you’d lost forever. And now, here he was, standing before you with the same hopeful smile that made your heart ache.

“I missed you so much,” he continued, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. “Every single day, I thought about you. I couldn’t stay away—I couldn’t just leave it like that. I promised myself I’d come back for you, no matter what it took. And… I did. I’m here. We’re here.”

The small box in his hand trembled as he held it out to you, his fingers shaking. You glanced down at the ring inside, the delicate band glinting in the dim light. It was simple, understated, but perfect. You could see the thought he had put into it, the way he must have waited all this time, all for this moment.

He looked at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, like he was laying his entire heart bare for you to see. “I wanted to do this properly,” he said, his voice almost breaking. “I wanted to ask you to marry me. Because I love you. I’ve always loved you. Even when things got hard, even when everything went wrong, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But I can’t wait anymore.”

You felt a sob bubble up in your chest, but this time it wasn’t from pain or heartbreak. It was from the sheer overwhelming happiness that surged through you, threatening to spill over. The tears in your eyes were no longer bitter—they were filled with something sweet, something hopeful. You took a shaky step forward, closing the distance between you, and reached out to cradle his face in your hands.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as if savoring it, like he was afraid this was just a dream that would vanish if he moved too quickly. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the familiar roughness of his jaw, and it made your chest ache with a profound sense of belonging.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the word. “Yes, Sebastian. I missed you, too. I love you. I—” You couldn’t finish the sentence, too overwhelmed by the flood of emotions, but you didn’t need to. The look on his face was enough.

He let out a breath, a choked, relieved laugh escaping him as he pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground in a tight embrace. You buried your face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you were home.

When he finally set you down, he took your hand gently, slipping the ring onto your finger with a tenderness that made your heart swell. He looked at it for a moment, his eyes soft, almost disbelieving, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. And then he looked back up at you, his smile wide and genuine, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

@splatting-stampede

—SOLACE

Summary: Your life with your boyfriend goes into the next level.

Tags: Established Relationship, Female Reader, Fluff, Romance, Angst

Words: 8,9k

MDNI IT CONTAINS NSFW ELEMENTS

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Guess who.” A familiar, teasing voice whispers close to your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. The words are followed by a warm body pressing into your back, enveloping you in an embrace. Gentle hands cover your eyes, playfully robbing you of your vision as you stand at the counter, finishing the last touches on dinner.

You can already smell the distinct, savory aroma of Sebastian’s favorite meal wafting through the kitchen—a hint of garlic, herbs, and roasted flavors blending into a comforting scent. The anticipation hangs in the air, the food waiting to be served, but now there’s something much more important occupying your attention.

“Hm, perhaps my wonderful boyfriend?” you hum back, leaning into the touch and making no attempt to pull away. There’s a soft giggle from behind you, the kind that melts away any lingering stress from the day. It’s a sound you’ve come to love, filled with genuine affection and a trace of mischief. His hands slide slowly from your eyes, drifting down to rest on your hips. You can feel the way his fingers trace small, lazy circles through the fabric of your clothes, a comforting and familiar touch that sends warmth spreading through your chest. He’s not in a rush, savoring the contact as he pulls you a little closer.

“Right on the first try, good job,” Sebastian murmurs against your ear, his voice low and playful. You can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, and the way he tilts his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek as he lingers there, pressing a gentle kiss just below your ear.

You’d never expected to find yourself in a relationship like this, one that seemed ripped straight from the pages of a corny romance novel or, as you and Sebastian liked to joke, a scene from a Korean drama. It had all started so randomly, in a way that neither of you could have planned even if you tried.

It was a late summer evening, the kind where the air still clung with warmth from the day, and the sky painted itself in deep shades of purple and pink. You were making your way home after a night out with friends, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins. The streets were filled with the sounds of distant laughter and cars passing by, but all you could think about was how much your feet hurt and how desperately you needed an Uber to take you home. You fumbled with your phone, trying to order a ride while your vision swam a little from the drinks.

At the same time, nearby, Sebastian was also looking to get home. He’d spent the evening crammed into a quiet coffee shop, buried under textbooks and highlighters, his study session running longer than he’d planned. By the time he packed up and stepped outside, the sky was already dark, and he sighed, knowing the buses had stopped running. He pulled out his phone, searching for a ride back.

Unbeknownst to you both, fate—or maybe just the Uber app—decided to pull you together that night. The two of you ended up standing at the same corner, eyes glued to the little car icon on your screens as it approached. When you noticed him, you raised an eyebrow, confusion muddling your half-drunken state.

“Uh, are you waiting for this one too?” You asked, swaying slightly on your feet. The alcohol made everything a bit fuzzy, your usual filter dulled by the night’s drinks.

Sebastian looked at you, equally confused, but then a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, I am… seems like we ordered the same ride.”

You blinked, staring at him as if you were processing the situation in slow motion. Then, without much thought, you shrugged. “Well, there’s room for two. You wanna share?”

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Sure, why not? Looks like the universe wanted us to meet tonight.”

You slid into the backseat together, and as the car started moving, you leaned back, letting out a content sigh. The city lights blurred by outside the window, casting a soft glow on Sebastian’s face. He looked relaxed, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times while studying. You, on the other hand, felt talkative and loose-lipped from the drinks you’d had earlier. Before you knew it, you were rambling about anything and everything—your favorite movies, a funny story from the night out, even some existential musings on the universe that made him stifle a laugh.

“You’re really something.” He said, amused. His eyes sparkled with a kind of genuine interest that you weren’t used to seeing in strangers.

“I’m not something,” you replied, dramatic and slurring your words a bit. “I’m everything.” You pointed at him with a sloppy grin. “And so are you. We’re all stardust, you know?”

Sebastian gave a playful sigh, shaking his head. “Yeah, stardust… sure.” But there was something about the way you spoke, the unabashed honesty in your drunken state, that made an impression on him. You were a mess, but a charming mess, and it was enough to spark something in him.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his place, you were half-asleep, your head lolling to the side. He glanced at you, contemplating whether to wake you or let you rest. In the end, he gently nudged your shoulder. “Hey, this is where I get off. You alright?”

You blinked awake, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, even though you clearly weren’t. Before he could say anything more, you leaned closer, squinting at him. “You have really nice eyes, did you know that?”

He laughed softly, cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “You’re definitely not going home like this.”

You didn’t remember much after that. The next thing you knew, you were waking up in an unfamiliar bed, the sunlight streaming in through pale curtains. Your head throbbed, the telltale sign of a hangover, and as you blinked the sleep from your eyes, you realized you were fully dressed, shoes neatly placed by the door. There was a folded note on the bedside table, written in neat, slanted handwriting.

Good morning! You looked too tired (and drunk) to make it home safely, so I brought you here. Don’t worry, you were a perfect angel. There’s water and aspirin on the nightstand. I’ll be back soon with breakfast—Sebastian.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of the note, even through the pounding in your head. It felt like a scene straight out of a drama—the handsome stranger, the shared ride, the note left behind. When Sebastian returned with a coffee and a bag of pastries, you were sitting up, still clutching the note.

“You’re awake,” he said, smiling as he stepped inside. “Feeling alright?”

You gave him a look, holding up the note like a piece of evidence. “Alright and not drunk, you're really a gentleman for leaving a note.“

He laughed, setting the coffee down in front of you. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

From that morning on, it became a running joke between the two of you, how you met in such a cliché way. But as weeks turned into months, the jokes turned into real feelings. What started as a funny story to tell your friends became the foundation of something genuine. And now, here you were, dating Sebastian—the boy who shared an Uber with a tipsy, rambling stranger and decided to keep them around.

“Spacing out again?” Sebastian’s voice pulls you back into the present, his nose brushing against your ear as he nudges you gently. He’s still holding you close, his hands tracing idle patterns along your hips, almost as if he can’t bear to let you go just yet. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been standing there, lost in your thoughts and the warmth of his embrace.

“Hmm, maybe.” You reply, leaning back into him with a soft smile. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your back, and you feel the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes. “Lucky, huh? I was about to say the same thing.”

He presses a kiss to your temple before finally releasing you, letting his hands slide away reluctantly. You turn to face him, catching the playful glint in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you, still standing by the stove with a dreamy look on your face.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you say, gesturing toward the simmering pots on the stove. “But if you keep distracting me like that, we’re going to end up with burnt food.”

“Oh no, we can’t let that happen,” he teases, raising his hands in mock surrender. “After all, it’s my favorite. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

You roll your eyes fondly and turn back to stir the pot, feeling Sebastian’s presence lingering close by. He watches you for a moment, then reaches around you to grab a spoon, sneaking a taste of the sauce simmering in front of you. He hums appreciatively, savoring the flavor.

“Mmm, perfect.” he says with a satisfied smile. “But it needs one more thing.”

Before you can ask what, he’s leaning in again, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, soft and sweet. It’s barely a peck, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you as you swat at him playfully.

“Sebastian!” you scold lightly, trying to hide your smile. “You’re impossible.”

He grins, unrepentant. “Impossible? Or irresistibly charming?”

“A little of both,” you admit, shaking your head as you reach for the plates. “Alright, Mr. Charming, if you’re going to be here, at least help me set the table.”

Sebastian nods, slipping easily into a domestic rhythm that the two of you have fallen into over the past few months. He takes the plates from your hands, setting them down on the small table in the corner of the kitchen. It’s a cozy spot, just big enough for the two of you, illuminated by the warm light of the pendant lamp above. He lights a small candle in the center, the flame flickering softly, casting a golden glow that bathes the room in a romantic light.

You bring over the food, setting the dishes down as Sebastian pulls out a chair for you with a flourish, bowing dramatically. “Your seat, my dear.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” you reply, playing along with a grin as you take your seat.

He settles down across from you, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other, a soft silence settling between you. It’s the kind of silence that feels full, not empty—a shared moment where words aren’t necessary.

“You really outdid yourself,” Sebastian says after taking his first bite. His eyes light up with genuine delight, and it makes your heart swell with pride. “This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, watching him enjoy the meal you prepared. You can’t help but feel a rush of affection for him in this moment—seeing him so relaxed, savoring the food with that boyish smile you love so much.

The two of you fall into an easy conversation, talking about your day and sharing little stories. At one point, Sebastian leans back in his chair, looking at you with an expression so soft it almost takes your breath away.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week since there's barely time with work and studies,” he admits quietly, his voice tinged with a kind of vulnerability he doesn’t show often. “Just… having dinner with you, like this. It feels like home.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours. His fingers curl around yours, warm and secure. “Me too,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s the best part of my day.”

For a while, you just hold hands, the candlelight flickering between you as you finish your meal. There’s a sense of contentment that wraps around you both like a blanket—cozy, intimate, and full of love.

After dinner, Sebastian insists on helping with the dishes, despite your protests. You end up standing side by side at the sink, elbows bumping playfully as you wash and dry. He steals kisses every chance he gets, brushing his lips against your cheek, your temple, the tip of your nose, making you laugh.

“You’re going to make me drop a plate,” you warn, though you’re smiling so much it’s hard to sound serious.

“Then I’ll catch it,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your temple.

By the time the kitchen is cleaned up, you’re both a little breathless from laughing, your cheeks warm from the shared closeness.

After the dishes are done, you’re both standing side by side, your hands still damp from the soapy water. The kitchen is quiet now, the only light coming from the small candle still flickering on the table, casting a warm, golden glow that dances across Sebastian’s face.

He turns toward you, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there, brushing against your skin, and when you meet his gaze, there’s a different kind of warmth in his eyes—something deeper, a tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’ve been amazing tonight.” He says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for this.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian. I loved doing this with you.”

There’s a beat of silence, where neither of you moves, just holding each other’s gaze. Then, in a single, smooth motion, he steps closer, his hands sliding to your waist. He pulls you against him, the sudden press of his body igniting a spark of heat between you. You can feel the way his fingers tighten on your hips, firm yet gentle, as if he’s anchoring himself to you.

You tilt your head up, your breath catching in your throat as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. He’s so close now that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips, and when he finally kisses you, it’s slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the taste of you. It starts sweet, almost tentative, but quickly deepens as the hunger between you both grows.

Sebastian’s hands roam up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before sliding under your shirt. His touch is warm against your skin, sending a shiver through you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with a desire that mirrors your own. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice husky, almost breathless.

You nod, your own hands slipping under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his stomach. “More than okay.” you murmur, and that’s all the permission he needs.

He kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue parting your lips as he presses you back against the counter. The edge digs into your hips, but you barely notice, too caught up in the feel of his mouth on yours, the way he’s holding you like you’re the only thing in the world. You gasp against his lips when he grips your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter with surprising ease.

“Sebastian.” You whisper, your voice breaking with a breathy moan as his lips trail down your jaw, nipping gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear. He hums in response, his hands squeezing your thighs as he settles between them, the hard press of his body making your heart race.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans, the sound vibrating against your skin. His kisses grow more heated, almost desperate, as if he can’t get enough of you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with lust. His forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his breath coming out in short, uneven puffs.

“You drive me crazy,” he admits, his voice rough and raw. His hands slide up your thighs, fingers dipping under your skirt, hooking on the waistband of your underwear. He pauses there, teasing, the pads of his fingers tracing small circles just beneath the fabric. He’s taking his time, savoring the anticipation and the shared intimacy of the moment.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you manage to tease, though your voice is shaky with desire. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he lets out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“It’s definitely not a bad thing,” he murmurs, capturing your lips again in a kiss that leaves you breathless. He presses himself harder against you, grinding his hips into yours, and the friction sends a wave of heat coursing through your body. You could feel his growing errection between his legs, pressing between your legs and you had to hold back not to rush it. It’s overwhelming in the best way, the feeling of his firm body fitting perfectly against yours.

His other hand slips further under your shirt, fingertips brushing over your bare skin as he tried to unclip your bra under your clothes and he certainly enjoyed it way too much the way he teased you with his slow delicate movements. He then cups the side of your waist, his thumb grazing just beneath your ribs, tracing gentle patterns. When he looks at you, it’s with an intensity that takes your breath away.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice filled with a raw, unfiltered honesty that makes your chest ache. He lowers his head, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your throat. His hands move with purpose now, sliding down to push your skirt up. He glances up at you, silently asking for permission, his expression almost reverent.

You nod, your breath hitching as he kneels in front of you. The sight of him on his knees, his hands gently spreading your legs appart, is enough to make your head spin. He takes his time, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s something worshipful in the way he looks at you, like he’s savoring every moment, every inch of your skin. Before you knew it, he took the piece of fabric of your lace panties between his teeth, pulling them down your legs, putting them in his own pockets.

“Sebastian…” Your voice is barely a whisper, your fingers tangling in his hair as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. He grins up at you, a teasing, almost playful smile, before lowering his head.

The first touch of his lips against your most sensitive spot makes you gasp, your back arching involuntarily. He’s slow and deliberate, tasting you with gentle licks that have your entire body trembling. It’s a different kind of intimacy—one that’s both intense and tender, filled with an unspoken love that takes your breath away.

He takes his time, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the way your body responds to him. He holds your hips firmly, anchoring you in place as he explores every inch of you, finding the spots that make you shudder and moan his name. You can feel his hot breath against you, the soft hum of pleasure that escapes him as he loses himself in the moment.

Your fingers curl tighter in his hair, tugging him closer as you struggle to keep your voice steady. “Sebastian… please.”

He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, eyes heavy with desire. “I love it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with need. „Keep your eyes on me, darling.“

You’re panting now, your entire body trembling as he dives back in, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. The pleasure builds steadily, a wave of heat coiling low in your belly, making you feel like you’re on the edge of something wonderful. He watches your face as he works, taking in every gasp, every moan, as if it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

You can’t hold back any longer. Your body tenses, your thighs clamping around his head as you reach your peak, crying out his name. He doesn’t stop, riding out your release, his tongue gentle now, coaxing you through the aftershocks.

When you finally come back down, your chest heaving, he presses one last soft kiss against your thigh before standing up. He looks at you with a boyish grin, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Was that okay?” he asks, though his smirk tells you he knows exactly how good it was.

You let out a breathless laugh, pulling him into a kiss that’s sweet and grateful, tasting yourself on his lips. “More than okay,” you murmur against his mouth. “You’re incredible.”

He wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he plants a soft kiss there. “I love you,” he whispers, the words like a quiet promise against your skin.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple, your fingers gently stroking through his hair. “I love you too.”

Without another word, he scoops you up effortlessly, his hands strong and sure as he lifts you off the counter. You let out a surprised laugh, clinging to him, your arms looping around his neck as he cradles you against his chest.

“Taking this somewhere more comfortable,” he murmurs, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to your forehead. The look in his eyes is smoldering, filled with an unspoken promise of what’s to come. He carries you through the dimly lit hallway, each step deliberate, the anticipation building between you both. Your heart races, beating in time with his, the air thick with the shared desire that crackles like electricity.

As you reach the bedroom, he nudges the door open with his foot, the soft light from the hallway spilling in and casting a golden glow over the bed. He sets you down gently, his hands lingering on your hips as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s slower this time, a lazy, lingering kiss that’s filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“You’re too good to me,” you whisper against his lips, your hands already slipping under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He chuckles, low and sweet, as he pulls back just enough to tug his shirt over his head. “I’m exactly as good as you deserve,” he replies, his voice husky. He tosses the shirt aside carelessly, and your eyes roam over his exposed chest, the play of light and shadow accentuating the muscles there. He looks at you like he’s drinking you in, savoring every detail, every expression on your face.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans, working it open as he watches you with a hooded gaze. He helps you, shrugging out of his pants and kicking them aside, leaving him in just his boxers. The sight of him—flushed, breathing heavily, and looking at you with a mixture of adoration and want—makes a wave of heat wash over you.

You lean back against the pillows, propping yourself up as he climbs onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress. He’s on you in an instant, his hands gently prying your shirt off, his lips trailing soft kisses down your collarbone as he peels the fabric away. When you’re bare before him, he pauses, taking a moment just to look at you. The way his eyes drink you in makes you feel cherished, like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your sternum, then another lower, right over your heart. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the press of his lips sending shivers through your body.

His hands trail down your sides, fingers close between your legs. He raises his eyes to yours, silently asking for permission once again. When you give a small, eager nod, he pushes them in, toying with you, his gaze never leaving yours.

He presses closer, his bare chest flush against yours now, skin against skin. The warmth of him seeps into you, grounding you even as your heart feels like it might burst from the intensity of the moment. You can feel every hard line of his body, the way he fits so perfectly against you, like you were made for each other.

“Sebastian.” you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand, and he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“I’ve got you.” He murmurs, his voice filled with love and a gentle promise. He dips his head down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and deep, his hand, pulled out of you, sliding down your side to grip your thigh, pulling you closer. His other hand roams up your body, fingers splaying out on your chest as he squeezed the skin.

You shiver as he shifts, settling between your legs, the press of his body sending a wave of warmth through you. He grinds against you slowly, the friction delicious, and you gasp into his mouth, your nails digging into his back. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates through his chest, and you can feel the restrained need in the way he moves.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against your lips, his forehead resting against yours as he gazes down at you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“You,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “I want you.”

He kisses you again, hard and fervent, his hips pressing into yours in a slow, rolling motion that has you arching up against him, seeking more. You can feel his smile against your lips, a soft, tender curve that’s full of love.

“I’m all yours,” he whispers back, his words like a promise. “Tonight and always.”

He moves slowly, unhurried, taking his time to explore every inch of your body with his lips and hands, like he’s memorizing every curve, every shiver. The room is filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the soft sighs and gasps as he touches you, holds you, loves you.

„Promise I always will.“ Those where his last words before you were able to feel him close to your entrance, his tip stroking you gently before he pushed in.

The next morning came in silence, but it wasn’t the kind you loved. It wasn’t the quiet murmur of the world still asleep, or the gentle hum of life waking up slowly. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, almost suffocating. The kind that made you realize something was missing before you even opened your eyes.

You shifted, reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed, expecting the familiar warmth of Sebastian’s body curled up against yours. Instead, your fingers met cold, empty sheets. Your heart sank a little, the small knot of disappointment tightening in your chest.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Mornings were your favorite time together, the one part of the day where you could both be unguarded, lazy, and wrapped up in each other without any of life’s distractions pulling you apart. You loved waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen as Sebastian made you breakfast, or the soft kiss he’d press to your forehead before you were even fully awake. It was the sweetest part of your life—those quiet, precious moments that belonged only to the two of you.

But today, there was none of that. Just an empty bed and a lingering chill where his warmth should have been. You opened your eyes, blinking at the soft light filtering through the curtains, half expecting to see him standing there, smiling at you like he always did. But the room was empty.

You sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around your waist, and glanced around as if he might suddenly appear. The pillow next to you was still dented from where he’d slept, but it was cool to the touch now, the scent of him fading away. You pressed your face into it anyway, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply, trying to hold on to that small piece of him for a moment longer.

„Sebastian?“ You called out, hoping for any kind of reaction, your voice filling the room.

It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t mentioned leaving early. He hadn’t said anything about having plans today. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one leaving a hollow ache in its wake. Maybe he’d just stepped out for a bit, you told yourself. He’d be back any minute, you were sure of it.

But as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the cold floor beneath your feet seemed to echo the emptiness inside you. You wrapped the blanket tighter around your shoulders, trying to chase away the chill. It wasn’t just the cold of the room—it was the cold that came from waking up alone when you’d gotten so used to waking up together. This felt oddly strange.

You couldn’t help but remember the way it usually was. How he’d pull you closer, mumbling half-asleep compliments against your neck. How his fingers would trace lazy patterns on your skin, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. How you’d both lie there for as long as you could, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, talking softly or just sharing comfortable silence.

You glanced at the clock on the nightstand, hoping you were wrong. Hoping maybe you’d just woken up before him, and he’d be back any second, slipping into bed beside you with a sheepish smile and a kiss on your cheek. But the clock told a different story. It was already late—later than he’d ever leave without saying something.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand up, your legs feeling shaky beneath you. The house felt colder without him here, and the empty quiet of it pressed in on you. You padded out into the hallway, calling his name softly once more, half expecting him to pop his head out from the kitchen, teasing you for being so worried.

But there was no answer. No kettle boiling, no clink of mugs, no smell of coffee in the air. Just the empty echo of your voice.

You leaned against the doorframe, closing your eyes and letting the silence wash over you. The ache in your chest felt heavier now, settling like a stone. It was a small thing, really—waking up alone just once—but it felt like a shadow of something bigger. A reminder of how much you needed him, of how much his presence had become a part of your mornings, your days, your everything.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, rubbing your hands over your arms in a vain attempt to warm up. He’d be back soon, you told yourself again. He had to be. He wouldn’t just leave like this, not without a word. He wouldn’t take away the part of the morning you loved the most—the part where you woke up next to him and felt like everything was right in the world.

But as you stood there, staring at the empty hallway, you couldn’t help the small, creeping worry that maybe today was different. Maybe today was the start of a morning you’d have to face alone, a morning without him to hold you and make you feel whole.

And that thought made the quiet feel so much colder.

The quiet stretched longer than it should have, and with each passing second, the doubt in your mind grew. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, but you tried to brush it off. You told yourself it was nothing—Sebastian had probably just gone out to grab breakfast or coffee. It was a Saturday, after all, and the world outside was just starting to wake up. But as you moved through the house, something felt off.

You made your way to the entryway, half-expecting to see him standing there, pulling on his shoes or grabbing his coat. But the spot where his jacket usually hung was empty. The shoes he always left by the door were gone too. You frowned, the empty space making your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe he had left early, maybe to pick up something for breakfast, or maybe to run an errand.

You convinced yourself that’s what had happened. He’d just stepped out. He’d be back soon. You had to believe that. You turned away from the door and walked back through the house, glancing around for any sign of him. The stillness pressed against you like a heavy blanket, and despite your best efforts to remain calm, you couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at you.

As you entered the living room, you caught sight of the bookshelf against the wall. Your eyes narrowed, and your heart began to race. The shelf was slightly askew, the way it was when Sebastian had been messing around with it. But it wasn’t just the shelf that caught your attention—it was the hidden compartment behind it. Your safe. It was slightly open.

You had always hidden it carefully, knowing it was the one place where you kept the money that had become so important to Sebastian and you over the past few months. But now, standing there, you felt a cold shiver race down your spine. You walked over to it, and as you opened the compartment fully, your stomach dropped. The safe was empty. Your heart skipped a beat, and panic surged through you. The money—everything you had been so careful to keep safe—was gone. The only explanation you could think of was that Sebastian had taken it. He had taken everything. Your mind screamed at you, but your body felt frozen, unable to move.

Your breath quickened, and the room around you began to spin. A knot twisted in your chest, suffocating you, and your mind started to race with the worst possible thoughts. Had he really done this? Had he taken everything and left me? Your hands shook as you backed away from the shelf, your mind still desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. You had trusted him, believed in him, and now all you could think of was how everything had felt too perfect—like it had all been a lie. Any kind of trust was lost as you couldn't come up with a single good reason why he should take the money and disappear.

You moved quickly, heart pounding in your chest, darting around the house as if searching for something, anything that would prove you were wrong. You tore through the living room, the kitchen, even the bathroom. But there was nothing—no sign of him, no explanation for what had happened. The silence pressed down harder, and the walls around you seemed to close in, suffocating you with the weight of your thoughts.

Suddenly, the house felt too big, too empty. Every sound, every small creak, seemed amplified in the stillness. You felt like you were drowning in your own panic. Your chest tightened, and your breathing became shallow, erratic. Your vision blurred as the tears began to well up in your eyes. It was all happening too fast, too overwhelming.

You collapsed to your knees on the floor, hands gripping your hair as your mind spiraled. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The thought that Sebastian had taken the money, that he had left you with nothing but confusion and betrayal, shattered something inside you. Everything you had shared—the late-night talks, the laughter, the mornings together—it all felt like a cruel joke now.

"Sebastian!" you screamed, the word ripping from your throat, raw and desperate. "Where are you?"

But there was no answer. Just the emptiness, the silence stretching longer and longer, pulling you further into a dark pit of fear and confusion. You curled in on yourself, hands over your face, tears streaming freely as the weight of it all pressed down on you. How could you have been so wrong? How could you have let yourself trust him so completely, only for him to take everything away in one cruel moment?

The house felt like a prison. Every corner, every empty space reminded you of what you had lost, what had been stolen from you. And as the panic surged, all you could think was that he had left, and you were alone, with nothing but the aching hollow in your chest to show for it.

You cried, helplessly, uncontrollably, the sobs shaking your entire body. Nothing made sense. Nothing could bring you the comfort you craved. And all you could do was scream, hoping for some kind of answer that would never come.

Sebastian woke up first, the quiet morning light filtering through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. His gaze immediately landed on you—peacefully asleep beside him. The sight of you, tangled in the sheets with your hair messy from the night, made his heart skip a beat. There was something about you, something that made everything else in the world fade away when he was with you.

He could still feel the warmth of your body against his, the weight of your presence next to him, and the quiet intimacy that seemed to wrap around both of you. The night had been perfect, full of laughter and closeness, but in that moment, as he watched you sleep, something more profound settled in him.

He realized, with a clarity that shocked him, that he didn’t just want this—this closeness, this joy, this love—he wanted all of it. Forever. It was like a light bulb turning on in his head, and it was undeniable. He wanted to spend his life with you. The idea of waking up to this—waking up to *you*—for every day to come filled him with a warmth that he couldn’t ignore.

Sebastian’s chest tightened with a mix of excitement and nerves, the weight of the realization both exhilarating and humbling. He knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just a fleeting thought or a momentary rush of emotion. It was real. He wanted to build a life with you. He wanted to promise you forever, no matter what.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb you. The sheets rustled gently as he moved, and he paused, watching you for a moment longer, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He admired how peaceful you looked, how safe and content, lost in dreams. He didn’t want to wake you yet. This moment, this quiet, was just for him.

Sebastian stood, stretching his limbs and glancing around the room. His heart still pounded with the weight of what he was about to do. He knew he had to do it. He had to show you that he wasn’t just saying the words when he said he loved you. He was going to prove it.

Moving quietly to the dresser, he pulled on his clothes, careful not to make any noise. His hands trembled slightly, the excitement of the decision making his heart race. He knew what he had to do, and nothing was going to stop him.

His eyes flicked toward the shelf where you kept your safe, his heart skipping. He had always known about it—he respected it, and he knew it was important to you. But today, today was different. He didn’t hesitate for a second as he opened the shelf, taking out the safe. The contents of the small box—money that had been saved for a future you’d both been dreaming of—meant something far more than just savings now. It was a way for him to take the first step toward that future. The life he wanted to build with you.

Sebastian swallowed hard as he pulled the money out, placing it carefully in his pocket. His chest tightened, but it wasn’t from nerves about what he was doing—it was from the overwhelming realization that he was making the choice to move forward, to ask for forever. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with you, and that thought was everything.

He turned, quietly making his way out of the room and into the hallway. The city outside was just beginning to wake up, the soft hum of the early morning a comforting backdrop to his racing thoughts. His mind was focused on one thing now: making sure the ring was perfect, making sure it was everything you deserved. He’d save the money for the rest of your life together later.

But today, today was the start of everything.

Sebastian made his way to the jewelry store, each step feeling more like a confirmation of what he had known all along. He was doing the right thing, and no matter how many details needed to be perfect, all that mattered was the love he felt for you. He had to make sure that the ring was just as unforgettable as the way you made him feel every single day.

As he stepped into the shop, his eyes immediately scanned the selection, his mind fixed solely on one goal. He didn’t need to search for long. The moment his eyes landed on a beautiful, delicate ring, a diamond set against a simple gold band, he knew it was the one. He imagined the way it would look on your finger, how it would symbolize everything he wanted to say but didn’t always have the words for.

With a deep breath, he picked it up, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the box. He paid, his hands shaking slightly with anticipation, excitement thrumming through his veins.

All he had to do now was get home to you. To show you how much you meant to him, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

The entire time he was gone, his mind was consumed with thoughts of you. He knew when he returned, it wouldn’t just be another ordinary morning. It would be the start of a new chapter. A chapter that began with love, and ended with forever.

But he never returned.

The metallic scent of the Hadal Blacksite hung thick in the air, its sterile walls casting a cold, lifeless atmosphere around you. The labyrinth of vents you crawled through felt like a maze, twisting and turning with no end in sight. Your knees scraped against the jagged metal, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Every inch of your body screamed in exhaustion, but your mission kept you moving. The crystal—the one thing you needed to find—was somewhere within this forsaken facility. But you had to survive long enough to retrieve it.

The deeper you went, the darker it became. The vents barely let any light in, and the only sound you could hear was the echo of your own breathing, shallow and frantic. You couldn’t afford to think about how you got here, how everything had spiraled out of control, or the faces you had once known. All you could focus on was the present, the objective. The crystal.

Your life had been shattered after Sebastian’s betrayal. You had fallen so far, so fast, that it felt like the very ground beneath you had disappeared. Now, here you were, crawling through the grim, unforgiving halls of the Blacksite—nothing more than a shadow, a criminal. Desperate. The crushing weight of debt and hunger had driven you beyond what you once thought possible.

Money had been the catalyst for your descent into this hellish place. The lack of it, the constant struggle to survive, had broken you down piece by piece until you were willing to do anything—anything—to escape the suffocating grasp of poverty. Your morals, your dignity, everything you once held dear, faded into the background as you scraped together whatever scraps of hope you could find.

And then you crossed the line.

It was never supposed to come to this. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t risk it all, but desperation had a way of warping your sense of reason. You had stepped into the Blacksite’s underbelly, risking your life, hoping the payoff would be enough to turn everything around. But all you had now were regrets, each one more suffocating than the last.

You had never imagined it would end like this.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed when you finally reached an access hatch, a simple vent. You didn’t hesitate, swinging it open and slipping through into the dimly lit room. Your eyes scanned the space, still disoriented from the crawl, but something stopped you dead in your tracks.

It was a shop.

A small, oddly shop tucked away in the heart of the Blacksite. The walls were lined with shelves—an assortment of strange, vintage devices, dusty trinkets, and knick-knacks. In the corner, a glass display case held a collection of unmarked items, their importance completely unknown to you. It was surreal, this oasis in the middle of a place so cold and hostile.

But what made your breath catch in your throat wasn’t the strange setting or the items on the shelves.

You froze, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes locked onto him. Sebastian. But he wasn’t the man you had once known—he wasn’t even close. His appearance was twisted, distorted, as though the years had been unkind, carving deep lines of pain into his face. His eyes, once warm and familiar, now held a cold emptiness, an unrecognizable void inbetween the fluorescent glow. His skin was pale gray, unnatural, like something out of a nightmare, and his presence felt wrong, as though he had been reshaped by something dark and uncontrollable. The shock hit you like a physical blow, your stomach churning as you tried to pull back, your legs shaking with the instinct to flee. You didn't even dared to comment the rest of his body. This wasn’t the man you loved: this wasn’t even someone you could recognize. A wave of disgust washed over you, mingling with the terror that gripped your throat. You couldn’t even process it—your mind couldn't make sense of the grotesque transformation. All you could do was stumble backward, every inch of your body telling you to get away, to escape this horrible, unrecognizable figure before you.

You took a slow, cautious step backward, your breath shallow and erratic. Every movement felt like an eternity as you tried to distance yourself from the nightmare standing in front of you. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the twisted version of Sebastian, but at the same time, you couldn’t look at him. The terror in your chest made your limbs heavy, your mind clouded with panic, and your heart ached in a way that made it hard to breathe.

You moved quietly, silently, as though retreating would give you the space to think, to make sense of this madness. Your feet stumbled awkwardly, barely making any sound against the cold floor—until they didn’t. Your foot caught on something—an object, a piece of debris that you hadn’t noticed before—and in a split second, your body was crashing to the ground.

The impact sent a sharp pain through your limbs, and before you could even react, you froze, utterly paralyzed by the noise. The sound of your fall echoed through the room, and in an instant, you felt his presence shift. His breathing grew louder, and then he turned.

For a moment, everything stopped. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. Every muscle in your body locked up as you lay there, immobilized by fear.

And then he saw you.

His eyes, once hollow, suddenly flickered with recognition. His face—so alien just moments before—shifted into something you could hardly process. A look of utter shock and joy crossed his features, his mouth parting in disbelief, displaying his sharp teeth. He moved toward you cautiously, his voice hoarse but filled with an overwhelming sense of relief.

“Y-You...?” His voice trembled, almost in awe. His eyes darted over your face, his expression softening as the pieces of recognition fell into place. “No way… is it really you?”

A rush of emotion flooded through him—something you hadn’t seen in a long time, something raw and vulnerable. His face broke into an unrestrained, radiant smile, and for the first time, you saw the man you once knew beneath all the horror. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy that made your stomach twist in confusion and disbelief.

You could barely move, still too stunned to comprehend the sight before you, but his reaction was enough to make your chest tighten, a jolt of emotion hitting you like a wave, not in a good way.

He was happy to see you. And somehow, in this strange, twisted reality, that felt even more terrifying.

Sebastian moved closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the pocket of his coat, pulling something out with an eager grin. The object glinted in his hand, and for a moment, the sight of the small box made your heart skip with fear. But you couldn’t process it, couldn’t make sense of the words he was about to speak.

“I—I can’t believe this… I’ve missed you so much,” he rambled, his voice a mix of relief and confusion. His gaze never left you, his eyes soft but filled with an almost frantic urgency, as though he couldn’t believe you were really here. “I thought I’d never see you again, after everything—after how much I messed up. I don’t know how you ended up down here, I don’t understand, but… I don’t care.”

His words poured out, faster than he could catch them, like he had been waiting for this moment, this reunion, for so long. He seemed out of breath, his chest heaving slightly as he spoke, the joy barely contained in his voice. His behaviour felt so off on so many different levels, not lovingly like you knew him back then, but obsessive in the worst way.

“I’ve been waiting for this… for you,” he continued, a wild light in his eyes. “I told myself I’d come back to you, no matter what. No matter what happened or what I had to go through… you were always on my mind. I never stopped thinking about you. I—" His voice caught, almost as if the words were too much to handle.

He paused for a moment, his face suddenly serious, as if weighing something. Then, with a flourish, he opened the small box in his hand, revealing the engagement ring nestled inside, covered in some dry blood and dirt. His smile stretched wide, a mix of pride and happiness in his eyes. “I was going to ask you... I wanted to ask you... I’ve been saving for so long. I—” He glanced at you, his expression filled with an almost childlike excitement. “I wanted to give you this. I wanted to promise you everything. I know things were messed up, but you *are* everything to me. And I—I need you to know that.”

But you couldn’t hear his words anymore. They were distant, muffled, as if the world around you was closing in. Your chest felt hollow, and despite the tears that had begun to fall silently down your face, your body felt numb. The shock of seeing him again, the confusion, the betrayal—it was too much to handle. You didn’t know whether to scream or to run, but your body refused to move.

His words—so full of joy, so hopeful—made everything worse. The engagement ring, the smiles, the words of love—they all felt like knives in your chest. Your throat tightened, and the tears came harder, spilling down your cheeks in a silent torrent as you stared at him, completely incapable of responding.

He kept talking, his words becoming a blur. He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care, that you weren’t saying anything back, that you weren’t moving. His smile remained wide and genuine, as if he was living some dream he had longed for. But for you? It was a nightmare that you couldn’t escape, not even if you tried.

You were deadly terrified of him.

You don't know who was standing in front of you anymore.

„GET AWAY FROM ME!“

#alternative ending #⊹₊⟡⋆satori.speaks #⊹₊⟡⋆writings

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arthurwilde · 2 years ago

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One of the things about The Terror that is so, so perfect in terms of storytelling and pacing is the way it ends the penultimate episode which is so FUCKING brutal and has ripped your heart out like 17 separate times, just a barrage of grief, with Blanky facing down the Tuunbaq, last puff of his pipe, defiant, CACKLING with laughter

#the c the c the open c #i laugh through the sobs every time. every time!#it's why the show - while tragic - never feels punishing #text post tag #fandom blather

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ectoplasmer · 2 years ago

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y’all ever think about kissing your f/o. literally screaming into a pillow

#it’s not FUNNY i want to kiss a fictional man so bad right now it makes me look DUMB #hold on i need to be embarrassing for a sec #i’m thinking like… specifically those seconds in between kissing them where their eyes are drooped closed and they’re already leaning-#-towards you again and maybe their hair is a bit messed up because of you grabbing it and agdkfhfk #or like…. the kind of kisses where they’re laughing or giggling to themselves in between breaths and their eyes are squeezed shut and-#-they’re just smiling st you the whole time. literally not once dropping it even while kissing you.#SOBBING MAN…. I’M SO DESPERATE TO KISS ANY OF THEM :(((#doesn’t even have to be traditional kisses like #forehead kisses drive me literally insane #doing something kinda dumb and being met with them like snickering while they shake their head #having them push back your hair to kiss the top of your head while teasing you about it #when you’re cupping their face and they’re looking at you so adoringly and they’re cradling your palm to their face #them turning slightly to press a kiss to your palm while nuzzling into it further…… sobs #i am so soft right now i would literally die at just a peck on the cheek. send help #being busy doing something and they come up to watch you work on whatever it is #maybe it’s something you’re already used to and they can just watch you go through the motions like second nature #and for some reason watching you do something so naturally makes them remember just how much they love every bit of you #so they turn their head to kiss your cheek and when you look st them they just flash you a small smile before going back to whatever #OR OR getting kissed awake by them…. having them press little pecks all over your face when you’re already half awake…… aahdjfbfknc #literally kicking my legs in bed right now i am so not normal over any of these guys #ANYWAY hi tumblr. normal 11pm rainy activities i swear #i’m supposed to be packing…. oops #i’ll go do that right now BUT DO KNOW physically i am doing that mentally i am thinking of kissing fictional boys from a card game show #rainy.file #quartzshipping

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 month ago

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just us

masterlist

summary: a situation between pogues and kooks at the beach made Rafe rethink his priorities

word count: 1.8k.

warnings: season 4 spoilers, established relationship, mention of the dead turtle, that hoe Ruthie, protective Rafe

a/n: i'm obsessed with season 4, y'all. absolutely in love with everything that's going on and especially with Rafe being in a better place with a girl that he actually likes 🥹 this scene at the beach with turtles just made me sob, so I really need someone to drag that bitch by her hair. sorry not sorry.

Your heart was beating with adrenaline from the scene that just happened at the beach, with Topper’s girlfriend almost running over the pogues and being the usual insane bitch that she was. Rafe stood beside you, silent but shaking his buzzed head in disapproval.

Kie was standing on her knees on the sand, in shock, with juice still dripping down her face and hair. She brushed off the help of her friends, instead standing and picking something up from the ground, without hesitation, going towards the group of people around you. They seemed absolutely delighted by the whole situation, laughing, fist bumping each other, and making you want to punch every single one of them in the face.

You didn’t even want to be here in the first place, not with a bunch of people with whom you shared mutual hatred towards each other. Rafe was your only connection with them, and it seemed like even for him it was a bit too much. A fun day at a beach with a little surfing competition, where even Topper and JJ seemed to have some fun together, took the wrong turn way too quickly.

“Look what you did! Is this okay?” Kie stopped in front of Ruthie, reaching out her hand to show something that you weren’t able to see, but by the look on her face it was obviously serious to her. “There was a turtle hatch, you idiots! You drove right over it!” Your stomach twisted at the realization, and you took a step closer to see it yourself.

“Oh my God.” You whispered, catching a glimpse of a tiny dead turtle with a crushed shell laying in the palm of her hand. So little and harmless that the picture of it brought tears to your eyes.

“Don’t look, baby.” Rafe’s deep voice mumbled near your ear, with a warm hand sprawled across your back to try to distract you, but you shook your head, unable to take your eyes off it.

“All right, but it was only one.” Ruthie said with her usual attitude, nonchalantly pointing to the rest of the turtles that, luckily, were perfectly fine. Your mouth opened in disbelief, and you looked at Rafe to see him uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m so sorry, Kie…” You whispered to her, stepping further away from the kooks, eyes drifting again to the dead animal in her hand. No matter how hard you tried to fit in with Rafe and his friends, you could never be one of them if it meant to be a bunch of pompous and cruel rich kids. You thought that, maybe it was time for you to finally admit that.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” She briefly looked at you, because despite not being friends, there never were any arguments between you and the rest of the pogues, always keeping cool and friendly with each other. “There’s something wrong with you, people.” Kiara looked back at the kooks with disgust written all over her face.

“I’m leaving, Rafe.” Barely holding back your tears, you looked back at your boyfriend, before picking up your beach bag from the sand and turning around. “I’m sorry again for them, Kie.”

“No, wait, Y/N.” He pushed through the crowd, wide-eyed, quickly approaching you and grasping your wrist. “This is not—“

“I don’t want to be here. I didn’t sign up to hang out with your friends when I started dating you, okay?” You groaned in frustration, attempting to move, but Rafe stopped you. “I don’t even know why we’re here, why you are here, when you clearly don’t enjoy it anymore.”

“Listen, this is not so easy, okay?” He rolled his eyes, but you knew it was not fully directed at you; Rafe was already struggling with trusting those around him, and the fact that you slowly but steadily made him reconsider his current surroundings did not help.

“You are not like them, they are not your friends, don’t you understand it?” The pure desperation was speaking in you, searching for the answers in his eyes. You overheard some people laughing at you, as they were too confident that Rafe would never listen to someone like you, someone from the cut, not even realizing the war that was currently going on in his head.

He was silent, thinking, making his already overwhelmed mind go hundred miles per hour to figure something out, because you were right. The more time had passed, the more the two of you were together, the less Rafe found himself enjoying the presence of his old friends, the less he wanted to do that childish bullshit.

“This dumb fucking bitch almost ran over people and killed an innocent animal because her big ego got hurt, do you understand?! So I’m leaving. Alone or with you.” You almost whispered the last part to him, too scared that he'd not choose you. At the end of the day, you were a pogue, and no matter how much you tried, you would never be good enough for Rafe.

“What did you just call me?” Ruthie arched a brow, now shooting daggers at you.

“I called you a dumb fucking bitch, didn’t you hear me?” You spat, finally having a good enough reason to tell the truth right in her face. “Or are you too stupid to get that through your thick scull?”

“That’s rich, coming for a pogue. It’s just a cycle of life. And if you, losers, are so offended by that, it’s not my problem.”

“A cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck is not a cycle of life.” Kiara pushed Ruthie with her hand, and it nearly turned into a fight, with JJ standing by his girlfriend's side. You turned away from them, too frustrated and drained to bother listening to the rest of the conversation, your gaze shifting to Rafe, who still held your hand.

“I want to leave. Stay here if you want to, I don’t care. I’m done with them, Rafe.” Your teary eyes met his blue ones, and he shook his head, pulling you closer with your forearms. The mere thought of you leaving him, angry and upset, triggered a whirlwind of panic within him.

“Hey, no, I’m not staying, okay?” Rafe's hands, now much gentler and delicate, touched your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that you could not keep back. Rafe had never been too comfortable with the display of emotions, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time he had actually seen you cry. And he knew how much you had always carried for animals, how you petted every stray cat or a dog on the street, and how you hated any form of violence against them.

The pulsating and aching feeling in his chest at the sight of your tears made him want to drop everything, or rather, eliminate everyone who had upset you, and just hold you in his arms.

“Aw, look at you.” You heard that annoying voice behind you back again, pulling you out of the bubble in which you fell, and turning around, you saw that Kie and JJ were no longer there. Your eyes instantly rolled back as Ruthie looked at you with her usual fake sympathy, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go back to your side of the island, you’re not one of us. Don’t even know why Rafe bothers to bring you here when you’re just another dirty toy to—“

Rafe left your side before she could finish her sentence, looming over her with the most furious expression you had ever seen on his face. Everyone and everything seemed to fall silent for a moment, and you held your breath, unsure what he would do. “Wanna say some bullshit about her? Try to do it right in my face and see what happens.”

“You’re not seriously protecting the pogue. She’s not on our side.” Her smile faded, her eyes now nervously looking between Rafe and Topper, who was standing behind her back.

“C’mon, Rafe…” He started, but quickly shut his mouth as soon as Rafe turned his head towards him with a silent threat. You felt your heartbeat quickening as the atmosphere started to get even more intense. Everyone around you also started arguing and saying God knows what, but Rafe was awfully calm, and it frightened you even more.

You moved closer to them as you made your way through the warm sand, until you were able to place a comforting hand on your boyfriend's back. He was so tense under your touch that it amazed you how the hell he was not shaking because of it. The only times you had ever seen him behaving that way was when people whispered something about his father behind his back.

“It’s okay, Ray.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and sliding your hand down his back to take a hold of his bicep.

“You’re lucky that I don’t hit women. But if I hear a single word about my girlfriend again, you will regret it, I promise you." Your stomach flattered from the way he protected you, from the way his friends opened their mouths in shock at his words. Even Topper and Kelce were too stunned to speak, sending each other weird glances. “Control, your crazy bitch, Top.”

As if nothing had happened, Rafe stepped back, throwing a protective hand over your shoulders and guiding you away from the group. He was silent for a whole walk towards his truck, only stopping near the passenger door and turning you to face him.

His worried blue eyes were almost shining under the bright and hot sun and you saw words forming in his head and sitting at the tip of his tongue. You waited another minute, while Rafe was focused on your necklace, thinking. His hands found a place on your waist, rubbing circles into your skin, until he finally took a deep breath and looked up.

“You’re right.” He said simply. “I’m not this person anymore. That shit with racing with pogues was fun and all, but I didn’t like what happened today.” You half smiled, nodding and encouraging him to talk. “If—if I want to be like my dad, I need to have my priorities straight. No more of this bullshit, no more fake ass people, yeah? You’re the only one who's been here for me for a long fucking time. You’re the only one who I can trust, baby.”

His hand cupped your cheek, eyes focused solemnly on you, before he lowered himself closer to you to place a kiss on your lips.

“This is the right decision. You’ve overgrown them, you’re a better man now. And i’ll be here for you whenever you need me, I promise. I guess it’s just us now." Your body sagged against his, too wrapped in the comfort of his presence to even care about anything else. Your lips brushed against his, making Rafe groan.

“Just us, baby.”

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x female reader #obx x reader #obx fanfiction

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fairy-angel222 · 9 months ago

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“𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍’ 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 !”

—how the jjk men punish you

ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, nanami, sukuna

cw: smut, overstimulation, choking, recording, degradation, praise, spanking, edging, toy use, mommy kink, daddy kink, squirting, crying, double penetration

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 ✮

Gojo’s a pleasure giver. But he can’t help it if pleasure turns to pain. So when you make him real mad, what else to do but to fuck you till you’re crying. Shaking, begging him to give you a break. Pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your aching cunt with no remorse.

“P-pleasee Sat-oruuu, ‘m sorry-yy.” you cried with a hiccup. “I can’t t-take it. ‘M close again and i-it hurts.”

“It’s all your fault baby. Couldn’t just be a good girl f’ me now could you?” Landing a harsh slap to your overly sensitive clit making you mewl loudly.

You were a mess. Your cheeks stained black from the running of your mascara. The sides of your swollen red lips filled with drool at your constant cries.

A choked scream escaped your lips when Gojo reached down to rub your clit. Your hands flying to his wrist in an attempt to pull his hand away. “Toruuu— uh uh, ‘s too s-sensitive,” you sobbed. Your boyfriend scowling as his other hand wrapped tightly around your throat.

“Unless you want your punishment to be worse, you better behave.” he growled out into your ear. You whimpered as you let go of him, the pace of his thrusts speeding up along with the movement of his fingers. “There we go, good girl.” he cooed.

The coil in your stomach was painfully ready to snap. Your eyes rolling back for what felt like the millionth time and your sobs becoming one with your moans as your body shook. Your pussy clenched down hard on his cock as you squirted, Gojo’s hand rubbing messily at the wetness between your folds.

Gojo laughed darkly, “Seven outa seven times you’ve squirted huh, three more to go and i’m at a new high score.” Lifting you onto your hands and knees despite your tear filled whines of ‘no more.’

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 ✮

Geto’s pretty mean sometimes. When he gets mad he loves to humiliate you. Fucking your throat with a camera in your face, calling you the most degrading names. Then making you watch it when you’re done and threatening to make it public if you ever disobey him again.

“Say hi to the camera slut. Tell them how much of a stupid fucking girl you’ve been,”

You only whine in response, your eyes welling with tears as Geto pushed your head further down on his cock. A loud gag sounding from your throat as your nose pressed against his pubic region, your nails digging into his thighs as you ran out of oxygen.

You let out a gasp for air when Geto roughly pulls your face back up, the camera zoomed into your spit coated chin, your flushed cheeks, and your glassy eyes. His palm landing on your cheek in a hard slap with the sinister tilt of his head. “ Ready to tell them why you’re here like this?”

You hiccuped, biting your lip at the sting flowing through your face. “‘M a bad girl who doesn’t obey instructions.” you whimpered, looking up through wet lashes as Geto smirked down at you. “And ‘s my fault ‘m getting punished.”

“Good girl.” Going back to fucking into your parted lips, his tip hitting the back of your throat as he brought himself to release. Pulling you off of him and spilling his cum all over your face. “Now smile for the camera.”

And you did as told, giving the camera a small smile as the thick white substance dripped onto your exposed chest.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ✮

Spanks you till your ass is red. Making you count each one and starting again every time you pulled away or reached back to grab his wrists.

“Fort-yy,” you cried, your ass sore as your boyfriend soothed his hands into your flesh. A smile on his face as he nodded in approval. “You did well.”

Then to “reward” you he’s stuffing his cock into you, fucking you sweet and slow till you’re moaning his name. Your head falling back at the feeling of his fingers on your clit.

He fucks you just how he knew you liked it. Until your moans were getting louder and your legs started to tremble. “Ahh— Kentoo, ‘m close,”

Only to smirk down at you when he kissed down your neck, stilling his movements and pulling out of you as you clenched round nothing.

“Sorry sweetheart, bad girls don’t get forgiven that easily.” Walking away from you and leaving you whining with need. Your poor cunt in desperate need of a release.

Nanami’s expression doesn’t change when you beg him to finish the job. Sitting down and sipping his coffee as you attempted to rut your clit against his thigh. “K-kentoo please.”

“If you make yourself cum you get forty more.” he warned, watching as you whimpered pleadingly up at him. Your lips forming into a pout when he ignored you “You’re s-so mean.”

“Should’ve thought about that before you disobeyed me.”

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 ✮

Toji’s even meaner side comes out when he’s angry, and he loves making you cum till you pass out. But not with his cock.

He leaves you tied to his bed, a gag in your mouth and your hands and legs bound to each corner of its frame. A vibrator strapped to your sensitive clit with a smaller one in you against your g spot.

“W-wait daddy don’t go— pl-ease don’t leave me like this.” you cried, the older man only smiling before gagging you again, waving goodbye before exiting the house.

The toys pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your poor body, your chin covered in your spit and tears. You couldn’t even feel your legs as they trembled, muffled screams falling past your lips as your pussy gushed onto the bed, again.

Your body spasmed, eyes shut tight as you attempted to pull your hips away from the vibrations on your clit. A defeated sob sounding in your throat when you were stopped by your restraints.

At least two hours went by, and your entire body was numb, your eyes struggling to stay open and your breathing heavy as you continued to swallow your tears.

When Toji gets home you’re already gone, the sheets underneath you soaked as you lay limp in the position he left you. Your legs still quivering with your wetness flowing uncontrollably out of your red, swollen cunt.

Toji smirked to himself, that should have taught you a lesson.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 ✮

When you make Sukuna mad, he stuffs you full past your limit. “Kuna— don’t think it can fit. ‘S too much.”

“You better fucking take it. Since you wanna be so bad, i’ll make it fit.” Bullying both his cocks into your tight cunt, stretching you wide as he bottomed out in you.

You sobbed loudly, nails digging into his arms as you adjusted around his thick girth. Your head fuzzy and your tears not stopping as he chuckled darkly into your ear. “There you go.”

His hand reaching to wrap around your neck as he forced you to take him deep, your lips parted in silent choked mewls at the fullness. You’re letting out loud cries when he started bouncing you on him, his grin never falling as he thrusted up. Groaning deeply at how hard you tightened down on him.

When you get used to the sting you’re a moaning mess, your head thrown back as you filled the room with your noise. Legs trembling as Sukuna’s cocks both rubbed against your gummy walls.

“F-fuckkk— Kuna ‘m close.”

Sukuna scoffed. “This is a punishment, ya really think i’d let you cum?” he laughed loudly, eyes darkening as he tightened his grip on your throat. “Think again.”

Speeding up his pace until you were screaming, the coil in your stomach painfully ready to snap as you let your tears fall. “Pl-ease Kunaa. Needa cumm.”

“Yeah? Does my girl wanna cum that bad?” watching as you nodded with a whimper, pressing a hot kiss behind your ear. “Want me to let you cum?”

“Y-es— please.”

“Aww, well that’s too bad, if you cum you’ll never feel any of my cocks in you again.” he warned. A broken whine escaping your throat as your toes curled. You definitely wouldn’t last.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 ✮

Choso is nine out of ten the one under you. But sometimes you make him really mad. And he punishes you the way he knows best.

His fingers on your clit as he lapped up your wetness, his face drenched in your slick and his eyes hazy at your taste. Your hands tied to the headboard above you as you tried to close your legs.

Choso whined into you. “Behave mommy— you always make me take my punishments, time for you to take yours.” His muffled voice against your flesh sending vibrations through your clit.

“Ch-oso— baby, you know am sorry, that’s enough.” you cried, your legs shaking as he sucked on your sensitive clit. “Choso,” you whimpered, “please baby- mommy can’t take it.”

He smiled widely, “That’s the point.” His hands hooking even tighter around your thighs. “Plus,” he groaned, “You taste sooo good.” Curling his tongue into your hole as you clenched down with a mewl.

“Gonna cum again mommy? Cum all over my face? Your pussy’s so sloppy.” he moaned, messily fucking you into you with his tongue. Your cries loud as you screamed his name incoherently.

Moaning as your sweet pussy gushed into his mouth, swallowing it down with a satisfied moan as he felt himself cum in his sweats. Again.

“‘M almost done mommy— promise.” he chuckled.

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kitasuno · 4 months ago

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with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second.

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun.

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight.

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says,

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much?

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother.

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him.

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him.

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him.

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts.

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?”

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule.

He meets you for the first time in February.

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession.

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them.

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r.

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later.

He sees you a lot the year after.

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side.

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch.

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother.

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation.

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night.

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you.

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his.

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful.

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him.

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi.

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.”

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri.

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.

#miya osamu #osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu fluff #haikyuu x reader #osamu x you #haikyuu fic #haikyu x reader #osamu fic

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ieirism · 1 year ago

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crybaby.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

setting: modern au

genre: smut and fluff

contains: brother’s best friend gojo, protective older brother geto, use of pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), unprotected sex, slightly mean gojo (but he ends up soft and sweet, I promise), dirty talk, overstimulation, mutual pining, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), cheesy and happy ending <3

summary: satoru had promised suguru that there'd be no funny business while he takes care of his heartbroken baby sister... but he's never been the greatest at keeping promises.

“Stop being so mean to her, Satoru.” Satoru looks over at his best friend, who's clicking his tongue in disapproval, with a nonchalant grin.

“Not my fault she’s such a crybaby, Suguru.”

“Come on.” Suguru shoots him a warning look. “That’s my little sister you're talking about.”

“Hey, hey,” Satoru laughs, raising his hands in mock defense. “You gotta teach her how to grow thicker skin. Not my problem.”

“Every time you come over, she ends up crying.” The black-haired man sighs. “Don’t be a jerk just for one moment, won’t you?”

“Mmh, no promises.” Satoru grins. Sue him, he’s simply too addicted to the way your face scrunches up indignantly whenever he teases you, the futile yet endearing clenching of your small fists at your side, and most of all, the uncontrollable blubbers that leave your lips as tears roll down your cheeks.

Years later, you’re still the same. Just a little crybaby coming apart at the seams, completely at Gojo Satoru’s mercy.

“S-Satoru…” The high-pitched whine of his name only elicits a laugh from the man between your legs, sending shock waves of pleasure shooting through your body.

“Baby, you gotta stop movin’ so much.” Satoru’s large hands grip your thighs, holding them firmly in place as he continues to feast on your dripping pussy. “Gotta let me eat you properly.” He punctuates his point with a loud suck on your clit that has you mewling and twitching under his hold.

“T-Too much!” You sob, hands curling into the silky white stands on his head, tugging uselessly. “S’too much, S-Satoru…”

“You wanna take my cock later, princess?” He hums against your cunt, licking a hot stripe up your slit, chuckling as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. His gaze lazily travels upwards, greeted with the sight of you nodding furiously as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Yes,” you plead with wide, teary eyes. “N-need you.” Satoru smirks.

“Then be a good girl and let me prep you,” he coos, before diving right back between your folds, enjoying the broken sob that leaves your lips as he draws zigzags across your swollen clit.

“I really don’t understand you,” Suguru bristles, frustration evident by the way his eyebrows furrow as he eyes Satoru.

“Hmm?” Satoru looks at him with feigned innocence. “Whatever could you be talking about, dear Suguru?”

“You’re unbelievable.” He sighs. “Those gifts you bought her… they’re worth almost a million yen. What the hell is wrong with you, really.”

“Well, you told me I made her cry.” The white-haired man shrugged. “I had to make up for it, didn’t I?” Suguru squints suspiciously, at a brief loss for words.

“...You are not normal,” he finally scoffs.

“Of course not,” Satoru agrees, unfazed.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’re gonna end up spoiling her.”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“Gimme another one, baby.” He’s faintly aware that if he makes you cum again, you really might pass out. However, he can’t really bring himself to be too concerned about that, not when he’s quickly becoming addicted to the taste of your dripping cunt and cries of pleasure.

“C-Can’t, I can’t — “ You sob, entire body shaking around his mouth; you’re so sensitive.

“You can,” he insists between hungry slurps, not letting any of your arousal go to waste. “Fuck…” You’re so sweet. Just how did he survive this long without having a taste of you?

“Please…” You’re still shy, trying your best to stifle your cries even as they fall in a steady stream from your trembling lips. Each loud squelch of your sopping pussy still has you cringing a little, not to mention the embarrassment that washes over you every time you catch a glimpse of your juices all over Satoru’s face.

“Don’t hold back anymore, sweetheart.” He reaches up to grab your wrists, pulling them away from your mouth even as you blubber out a weak protest. “Wanna hear you this time, say it loud. Say my name when you cum.” One more combined thrust of his fingers, deep into your hole with a flick of his tongue across your clit has you creaming on his lips for the fourth time.

“S-Satoru!” You’re unable to control the beautifully loud whine of his name as Satoru greets your orgasm eagerly, savoring every last drop of your release on his tongue.

“You made her cry again.” Suguru says, rolling his eyes as he approaches his best friend at their meeting spot.

“Huh?” Satoru raises a brow. “Haven’t even seen her since two weeks ago. What’d I do?”

“She’s sad you’re moving away.” Suguru tuts. “Can’t imagine why. Probably because she won’t be able to use you for your wallet anymore.”

“You implyin’ I’m just a wallet to her?” Satoru exclaims, a little offended. The black-haired man shoots him a deadpan glare.

“You know you’re not. But even you’re not enough of an asshole to use that against her.”

“It’s just college,” Satoru muses. “Kid thinks I won’t be back for her?”

“In two years she’ll be going off to college too.” Suguru shrugs. “She’ll get over you.”

“What a cruel thing to say.” Satoru laughs it off, ignoring the small flicker of jealousy that flares to life deep in his chest.

Satoru watches as your chest heaves up and down, in your effort to try to recover from the multiple orgasms he had just given you. You’re lying limp on your bed, unable to move save for the periodic twitching of your thighs.

“Sorry, princess, was that too much?” He’s teasing, but there’s a genuine edge of concern to his voice as he cups your cheek in his hand. You nod, a few tears falling down your face. “Aww, forgive me. You’ll forgive me, right?” In response, you tug weakly on his shirt collar, asking him to come closer. He relents, allowing you to drag him down towards you. Satoru’s about to ask what you need, before you suddenly tilt your head upwards to kiss him.

Satoru lets out a small noise of surprise as your soft lips press against his, hesitant at first, but deepening once your fingers find further purchase in his shirt, gripping tightly. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up into his lap.

You kiss him a little clumsily, still boneless from your release but Satoru doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind at all, of course, when your lips are so soft against his, and he can swallow every quiet whimper that escapes you.

“Satoru…” Your voice is raspy and small, but your eyes are wild as you cling helplessly to him. “A-Am… Am I ready yet?” His jaw goes slack in awe at the adorable, troubled expression on your face. Your lips are swollen into a permanent pout now as you look up at him with those wide doe eyes that always had him weak.

“...Think you are,” he heaves, realizing that he’s just as fucked out as you are. It takes everything in him to hold back the urge to just take you.

“She’s grown up.” Satoru raises his eyebrows in pleasant surprise at the pictures that Suguru shows him. Your family had recently gone on vacation, so Suguru had been gone for an entire week, leaving his best friend and roommate all alone.

“That’s what you’re looking at?” Suguru shoots him an annoyed look.

“Oh,” says Satoru, glancing back at the picture. “Uh, nice waterfall.”

“One of the seven natural wonders of the world and all you can see is my baby sister.” Suguru exhales deeply.

“What? You can’t blame me too much. Kid’s changed,” the white-haired man shoots defensively.

“She’s twenty, not sixteen anymore. Of course, she’s changed.” Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I know that, I just…” Satoru pauses, glancing back at the picture. You’re still tiny, only reaching up to your brother’s, and by extension his, chest. Your face has matured, though, baby fat gone from your cheeks. That didn’t stop you from being any less adorable, though — your smile is as radiant as ever. He can’t help but let a small smile of his own slip onto his face.

“Hopeless,” Suguru mutters in disbelief. “Hopeless, the both of you.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Satoru lets you unbutton his shirt, watching in amusement as your eyes narrow with focus as each button pops open, slowly revealing more and more of his skin.

“Um…” You’re nervous. It’s plain as day from the way your lip wobbles as your eyes sweep down the view of his chiseled chest and torso, only to end at the prominent bulge in his slacks.

“You sure you’re okay with this, princess?” He cups your chin in his hand, gently tilting your face to look straight at him. “Need to rest?”

“N-No!” You protest immediately, shaking your head. “I…” You glance back down at his erection, a flicker of desire in your eyes. “I need…” You trail off, unable to say it.

“Okay.” If he was feeling meaner, he would make you tell him exactly what you want. But he wants to be nice today, especially since you’ve already cried so much for him. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry, you’ll have it. Can you unzip me? Can you do that for me?” You hesitate for a moment. Satoru briefly wonders if he’s perhaps pushed you a bit too hard.

But then you’re reaching for him, small hands finding the top of his pants and slowly undoing the button. Your fingers close around his zipper, slowly tugging it down.

“Good girl.” He pecks your forehead. “Take me out of my boxers, alright?” As his angry, swollen cock springs free from his underwear, you can’t contain your gasp.

“Oh…” The soft sound leaves you almost involuntarily as you stare and wonder at how the hell that’s gonna fit in you. He’s thick and long, rock hard and dripping with pre-cum. You slowly wrap your own hand around his cock, lips parting as your fingers fail to meet in the middle. Your own pussy clenches in a combination of fear and excitement.

“See why I needed to prepare you, now?”

“Sorry to spring this onto you all of a sudden, especially since you just got into town.” Suguru sighs over the phone.

“Don’t worry about it. If you’re not around to take care of her, duty falls on me,” says Satoru as he reverses his car out of the parking lot, heading to the location Suguru had sent him.

“Let me know when she’s home safe. Tell her I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, will do.”

A pause.

“And… no funny business, got it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I’m serious, Satoru. She just confronted her asshole cheater ex. She doesn’t need you drooling all over her right now.”

“Relax, dude. I’m not that desperate.” Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Good. Keep it that way.”

His conversation with Suguru lies in the back of his mind, forgotten, as Satoru places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Lay back and relax for me, sweetheart.” You immediately obey, laying yourself down on your bed, heart beating fast in anticipation.

“S’gonna hurt, right?” you ask softly.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve gotten you ready, see?” Satoru comforts you, brushing his fingers against the wetness still soaking your entrance.

“Oh.” Tears suddenly well in your eyes. “Um, s-sorry, it just always hurt with him…”

“What?” Satoru’s eyes darken, unsure if you mean what he thinks you do.

“He just…” You bite your lip, trying not to let your tears fall. “H-He just p-put it in, y’know?” His heart drops in his stomach. Two years, two whole fucking years with that asshole, and he had never given you proper foreplay? No wonder you were so sensitive and responsive to his touch, your body had never received the attention it’s always deserved.

“Baby.” Satoru squeezes your hand, fighting down the urge to find that asshole and beat him up. That could come later. Right now, he has to focus on you. “It’s not gonna be that way this time. Not with me. Okay?” You nod, squeezing his hand in return.

“O-Okay.”

It’s the first time he’s seen you in person in four years, and here you are in the passenger seat of his car, crying your eyes out.

You feel absolutely humiliated. You had called Suguru to ask him to pick you up from your ex-boyfriend’s house after you dumped him, but he had told you he couldn’t.

“I’ll send someone to get you. Hang tight,” he’d said.

You just didn’t know it was going to be Gojo Satoru, who hadn’t returned to your hometown since he graduated high school.

“I’m gonna bring you home,” Satoru had told you, getting out of the driver’s seat to open the car door for you. “Relax, okay? You’re safe now.” He had buckled your seatbelt for you before settling in himself, starting the engine without another word.

The car ride back to your house is silent, save for the continuous sniffles that wrack your body as you try your best to stop your tears. Satoru silently puts a box of tissues in your lap at some point, and your heart stutters at the action.

You’ve known for many years now, that you never got over your first love.

Clothes fully discarded, Satoru lowers himself on top of you, enamored with the way you shyly glance down at`his cock, gaze wavering for a moment before slowly looking back up at him, eyes begging for him to do something.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He brushes his fingers, tender and gentle, across your cheek. You nod, hand curling around his bicep.

“Kiss me,” you request, and he gladly obliges, leaning down to peck your lips.

“M’gonna go slow,” he tells you. “You want me to stop, hit me real hard — “ He smacks his own chest. “ — Right here. Got it?”

“I won’t,” you say bravely, eyes glimmering with determination. “I… I can take it.” Satoru laughs quietly.

“Alright, princess. Don’t act all cute, you’re just rilin’ me up now.” You smile, a little mischievously.

“Oh, you caught me.”

“Fuck…” Satoru groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re gonna kill me.” His fat tip taps against your clit once, twice. You gasp, eyes going glossy as you feel your swollen pussy clench desperately around nothing.

“Satoru,” you plead. “P-Please…”

“I’ll give you what you need. Relax for me…” He aligns his tip with your entrance, prodding between your folds. Inch by inch, he sinks his cock into your warm, throbbing cunt, almost blacking out himself at the sensation of your tight, velvety walls clamping around his cock.

“A-Ah…!” You whine, gripping his bicep and squeezing your eyes shut. The stretch is almost too much, but the delicious sensation of being filled to the brim has you seeing stars.

“You okay?” Satoru pants, willing himself to stop from splitting you open on his cock to check on you.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, a-ah, please k-keep going…” Satoru rests his head in the crook of your neck as he continues to push himself in, enjoying the soft, labored whimpers as you take more and more of him, deep into your sopping hole.

“Almost there,” he coos. “Almost there, princess…” After what feels like an eternity, he finally sheaths the last of him in you, biting at your shoulder as he finally, finally feels exactly the sensation of being one with you.

“Drink. You’ll feel better.” Satoru places a glass of water in your hand as he leads you to your living room couch. You stubbornly refuse to look at him, letting the glass sit uselessly in your hand as you stare down at your lap.

He sighs, not sure what he should do. He’s never been good at comforting others, let alone his friends’ kid sisters. He knows you’re not a kid anymore, you’re a full grown adult, but the way you’re sulking and ignoring him says otherwise. Still, his fondness for you wins above all else as he takes the water back and puts it on the coffee table, letting you sit in silence.

”You gonna be okay by yourself?” he asks instead. Satoru doesn’t want to leave you alone, but he’s not sure if his presence will even help. He hasn’t been an active part of your life in years, and he has a feeling that this incredibly vulnerable moment isn’t the best time to barge back in. You don’t reply, twiddling your thumbs.

“Call me if you need anything,” Satoru says hesitantly. “You have my number, right?” No response. “I’m gonna write it down for you.” He finds a spare stack of Post-Its and does just that. You don’t react even when he sticks the note right on top of your forehead, in a shitty attempt to lighten your mood. Your deadpan glare, so much like your brother’s tells him it did not work.

“Suguru’s gonna be back tomorrow,” he tells you, taking the note off and soothing the annoyed crease between your eyebrows. “Go get some rest now, yeah?” You look away. Satoru sighs. Seeing you upset like this hurts him way more than he would like to admit. “M’gonna leave. Get to bed soon.” He pats the top of your head, just like he always used to do, which always made you whine when he messed up your hair. You’re quiet now, not a peep of complaint leaving you.

He really misses hearing your voice.

“Bye, then.” Satoru’s about to turn around and leave, but you do something that seems to shock both of you. Your fingers curl and grab onto the hem of his collared shirt, stopping him in his tracks. He stares down at you in surprise, trying to process the sight of your small, thin fingers holding onto him for dear life.

“Stay.” The one word was enough to crumble his self-control.

You’re struggling to adjust to his size; he can tell from the way you’re digging your nails into his arm and the trembling of your thighs around his waist. Satoru stays still, waiting for your permission to go any further, right hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip.

“Don’t stress yourself, baby, just tell me what you want, when you want it,” he murmurs against your neck, waiting patiently, torturously, for permission to move.

You’re so overwhelmed by the sensation of being stuffed full; Satoru is much bigger than your ex-boyfriend and yet, the feeling isn’t painful. It’s so good, a throbbing ache that extends outwards from your core all the way to the top of your head and the tip of your toes. You can hardly form thoughts, let alone words, as your pussy stretches around him, trying to accommodate the sheer size of his cock.

A few more moments pass, and you feel like you’re going crazy. The feeling of being so, so full is one that you’ve never felt before, but you think you’re already addicted. Your thighs flex instinctively, closing tighter around Satoru’s waist and pushing his cock even deeper, pressing right against your sweet spot. You mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck, silently begging to be closer to him.

Satoru leans into the kiss you give him, groaning as your walls suddenly clench once around him, brain filling with nothing but white noise. “Fuck,” he grits out against your lips. “Fuck, baby, I don’t know how much longer — “

“Move.” Your command is quiet. Satoru almost wonders if he’s misheard you. But one look into your pleading, begging eyes confirms what you want. Unable to hold back any longer, he pulls his hips upwards, snapping right back into you with one long, hard thrust. You cry out, nails sinking into his shoulder blades.“M-More,” you whisper. “Need more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Satoru’s at a loss for words and actions as you stood on your tiptoes, reaching up and bringing his head down to kiss him. His arms instinctively wrap around your waist to steady you, craning his neck to allow you better access — oh shit, what the hell is he doing?

He lets go of you like he’s touched something on fire, pulling back from the kiss. As your heels land back on the ground with a soft thud, he’s greeted by the sight of you looking like you’re about to cry again. “Wait — “ He reaches for you, but retracts his hand; he’s not sure if he can trust himself to stay in line. His heart is beating so fast, you had just kissed him, completely out of the blue.

Satoru knew about your crush on him when the two of you were younger. You started having feelings for him when you were thirteen and he was fifteen, making it painfully obvious. You followed him and Suguru around like a lost puppy whenever he came over, despite Satoru’s constant teasing.

He thought your actions were funny at first, becoming the root of his continued teasing. Despite still making you cry all the time, you always came right back to greet him with a smile upon his very next visit. After a while, Satoru looked at you with fondness, in the way that one would gaze at a small animal. You were harmless, sweet, and so very adorable.

Satoru didn’t return your feelings at the time. You were just Suguru’s kid sister that he liked to toy with sometimes. You were awfully cute when you were mad.

But now, as you look up at him with desperation and longing, his heart clenches faintly in his chest. You’re so, so beautiful — the pictures Suguru had showed him hadn’t done you justice in the slightest. You somehow look so enchantingly gorgeous at this moment, even with tears glistening in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

Would you hit him if he tried to wipe away your tears?

He never gets to find out, because you speak his name softly, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Satoru leans down to carefully listen to what you have to say. “W-Want you.”

“So good, so fuckin’ good for me, princess,” Satoru groans, reveling in the dizzying heat of your pussy as he drags his cock in and out of your walls, fucking you at a steady pace. “You feel me in there? You feel me in your little cunt?”

“Y-Yes,” you manage to sob out between moans, each rough snap of his hips into you melting your brain into jelly just a little more.

“What a perfect lil pussy,” He chuckles as you squeal after a rather rough thrust, the loud squelch of your hole sucking him in echoing through the room. “No sane person in this world would ever give this up this tight wet cunt.” You whine at his filthy words, drool dripping out of the side of your mouth as Satoru continues to ram into you, faster, harder.

“Satoru!” You’re crying out his name over and over, legs wrapped firmly around his waist, pushing him deeper and deeper. “S-Satoru, I-I — “

“You likin’ this, baby? Tell me how much you like this,” he coos into your ear, hand reaching down to rub at your swollen clit.

“I l-like it s-so much, i-it’s so ahh…! I-it’s so good,” you sob out. You never thought sex could feel like this — you never understood why the people around you were so obsessed with it, especially with the treatment you received from your ex.

Now, though, as each rut of Satoru’s dick into your cunt kisses your sweet spot, you get it. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forget this feeling of being filled by cock so brutally sweet.

“Hold on.” Satoru had tried to protest, he really had. You’d just broken up with your boyfriend. Like Suguru said, the last thing you needed was any funny business. “Listen — “ He sighs out your name, making your bottom lip wobble. “You have to go rest, don’t be reckless.”

“Please.” You tug at his sleeve, staring at him with that puppy-eyed look that always gets you what you want. He really had spoiled you, hadn’t he?

“Not now,” he tried to reason with you. “You’re still hurting, you’re not in the right mind.” You glare at him.

“Who’re you to say m’not in the right mind?” you whine. “I…” You suddenly seem to lose your confidence, staring down at the floor. “...I only ever wanted you.”

“What?” Satoru stares, wide-eyed, at your confession.

“Know you don’t want me that way,” you continue, voice small. “But I… don’t care.” You sniffle. “Don’t care, Satoru. Just want you.”

And when you tug desperately at his shirt again, this time, Satoru is too far gone.

“Fuck, I’m close.” He growls into your neck, his pace picking up as he chases after his release, He coaxes you to join him, thumbing at your clit and cooing for you to “Let go, cum for me, c’mon. Cream all over my cock, princess.”

The only sounds in the room are a symphony of your moans and the slick sounds of his cock pushing in and out of your hole as a coil forms deep in your gut, threatening to snap at any moment. You feel tears stain your cheeks as Satoru’s pace increases, pounding into you so deep you can practically feel him in your throat.

“S-Satoru, I’m g-gonna — !” You cut yourself off with a loud, lewd moan, cunt clenching down hard around him as you come undone for the fifth time just this night. You swear you lose consciousness for a second, lost in the euphoric feeling of your release as your swollen pussy throbs in satisfaction.

“Shit..“ A few quick, shallow thrusts later, Satoru finishes as well, thick ropes of cum splurting into your womb, filling you with a warm sensation.

“A-Ah…” you whimper out, pussy fluttering weakly around his softening cock, which is still fully sheathed inside you. A white ring remains on his dick as he gently pulls himself off of you, cum dripping from your spent pussy onto the sheets. Satoru tuts, placing a pillow under your hips so you won’t leak.

You’re only faintly aware of what he’s doing as he leaves briefly and returns with a warm, wet towel, gently asking you to open your legs for him. You obey, but you’re so exhausted you can’t help it as your eyes droop shut. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Satoru leaning forward to peck your forehead, praising you for taking him so well.

You wake up a few hours later to sunlight streaming through your bedroom window, making you squint a little as you sit up in bed. You immediately gasp at the ache between your legs, and the soreness racing up and down your body.

Memories of the previous night come flooding back as a sleepy groan sounds from next to you. Satoru stirs, awakened by your panicked sound, asking softly, “You okay, baby?”

Oh god. Shit. Fuck. You actually had sex with Gojo Satoru.

“Hmm?” He looks a little concerned at your lack of response, pulling you against him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You in pain? Sorry, did my best to clean you up and everything.” Only then do you realize that the place between your thighs is no longer sticky, and that you’re wearing a fresh set of underwear with Satoru’s unbuttoned shirt wrapped around you.

“...What did we do?” You whisper in a muddled mixture of shock and amazement.

“You regret it?” he asks carefully, pulling back a little to gauge your reaction. You shake your head vehemently, snuggling back close to him. You breathe in his scent, eyes fluttering closed. You feel so right at home in his arms.

“No.” You ponder for a bit. “But it’s never gonna happen again, right?” Satoru’s breath catches in his throat.

“What?”

“I know last night might’ve given you the wrong impression.” You swallow hard, trying to contain the feelings bubbling up within you. Satoru just looks so beautiful under the morning sun, his crystal blue eyes glittering in the light. You know you’re not mistaken, you’ve never been so sure about it — you love him. “I don’t… do this. Thank you for being with me for this one night, but…” you trail off.

“Hey, hey.” You’re crying again, and this time, Satoru wipes the tears off your cheek, cupping your face between his hands. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t want just this from you,” you continue vaguely, looking away shamefully. “But I don’t… I don’t expect you to want the same.” He stills at your words, trying to decipher them properly.

“You still in love with me?” He deciphered them spot on, but that doesn’t stop a humiliated squeak from leaving you. You’re huffing, face on fire with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.

“F-Fine, whatever! You know already, so…” You look away, gnawing at your lower lip. “That’s w-why — “

“Don’t really know why you’re so upset, princess,” he cuts you off, pulling you out of the downward spiral he sees you’re about to fall into. “Think…” Satoru pauses to swipe at a tear at the corner of your eyes. “Still such a crybaby,” he can’t help but say, watching with amusement as you scowl at him with all the ferocity of an angry kitten.

“Ugh, jerk! Four years later and you still can’t take me seriously, God, why do I even bo — “ He cuts you off again, this time with a kiss. When he pulls away, he’s smiling gently, chuckling at your dumbfounded expression.

“Think I love you too,” he finishes. “So you’ve got nothing to worry about.” A few moments pass.

“...Are you fucking with me?” You look him dead in the eye.

“Technically, I already did,” he replies cheerfully. You look at him in disbelief. “Okay, sorry, sorry, sweetheart. Let me spell it out for you.” Satoru holds you close to him, tracing slow, comforting circles along your back. “Be my girlfriend?”

You answer him with a kiss of your own.

Suguru sighs, fishing in his pocket for his house keys as he approaches the front door. He’s worried about you; although the bastard had cheated on you and deserved to have you dump him, he knows you’re still probably heartbroken.

Or at least a little heartbroken. Suguru’s aware you never really that into your ex, if your drunk phone calls about how much you miss Satoru were enough evidence. Hiding those from his best friend was tough work; he would have to sit in the bathroom or the closet with his headphones and speak as quietly and carefully as possible to not rouse any suspicion.

Either way, he knows you definitely need some cheering up right now. He’s brought you a box of cupcakes from your favorite bakery, hoping it would be enough to at least get you in a talking mood.

Imagine his surprise when he opens the door and the first thing he sees is Gojo Satoru. Not only is Gojo Satoru standing in his kitchen, but he’s wearing Suguru’s apron, a gift from you many Christmases ago. To make things worse, he’s nearly butt naked under it, only wearing a pair of boxers that are — wait a second, are those Suguru’s as well?

“Oh hey, Suguru!” If Satoru is nervous or embarrassed, he plays it off well as he turns around and waves, flashing the stupid, faded picture of Remy from Ratatouille on his apron right in Suguru’s face. “You hungry? Was just makin’ some eggs.”

“What the actual fuck,” Suguru grits out, putting two and two together as you choose that moment to wander out into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an unfamiliar collared button down that reaches down nearly to your knees. Satoru’s.

“S-Sugu.” Your eyes go round, stopping in your tracks. No one speaks for a moment. Satoru’s still happily cooking eggs. Suguru’s expression is stone cold. You’re staring at your brother with embarrassment written all over your face.

“Baby, you ready for food?” Satoru steps away from the stove to wrap an arm around your waist, smooching you on top of your head. You make a stuttered noise under your breath, glancing back at your brother.

Suguru’s smiling now, but not in the traditional sense. He looks almost maniacal as he slowly places the box of cupcakes on the table before locking eyes with Satoru. Finally, the white-haired man has enough shame for his casual grin to falter.

“What happened to no funny business?”

Satoru is forced to abandon the stove, running away from a fuming Suguru chasing after him with the first thing he could find on the dining table — a carrot.

“Sugu, stop, it’s okay — “ Your pleas fall on deaf ears as your brother is hell-bent on finding a way to murder his best friend with a vegetable. You sigh deeply, moving to go after them when you suddenly smell something burning. Your head snaps to where the eggs Satoru was cooking are now sitting blackened over the flame.

Needless to say, the first morning with Gojo Satoru as your official boyfriend was far from perfect.

Thankfully, you would have many, many more mornings with him, each more wonderful than the last, that this one quickly faded from importance.

But not from Suguru’s.

“I still remember,” Suguru says, clearing his throat for dramatic effect. “When I opened the door on that one morning, and you were not only in my house, but you were half-naked wearing my apron and my underwear — “

Satoru groans as the audience bursts into laughter at his best man’s speech, burying his face in your shoulder. You’re giggling right along with them, sparing your new husband a peck on the cheek as his best friend continues to tear him apart.

“Then you had the audacity to pretend nothing was wrong — “

Satoru knew he would never live this down, but he had zero regrets. Not when you’re sitting right next to him in a pretty white dress holding his hand under the table.

“Well.” Suguru looks over at him, raising a brow. “Got anything to say?” Satoru takes the mic from him, face splitting into a shit-eating grin as he says two words:

“Worth it.”

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x you #reader insert #female reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios

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peachysunrize · 6 months ago

Text

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys.

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid…

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing.

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily.

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives.

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way…

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs.

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him.

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say.

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke.

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,” he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,”

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup.

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face.

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness? How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him?

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.”

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans.

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore.

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor.

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this?

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body.

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little.

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you.

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fluff #prince aemond #aemond x reader #rue:smut #rue:angst #rue:fluff

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norrizzandpia · 6 months ago

Text

HE WON! LAN WON!

Summary: A long awaited win warrants a shouting Y/n, the proud girlfriend of Lando Norris, 2024 Miami Grand Prix Race Winner. Not only that, but also a smiling Lando now ready for questions about their future.

Warnings: LITERALLY NOTHING EXCEPT A SEXUAL COMMENT AND ME SOBBING IM SO HAPPY FOR THIS MAN I DONT EVEN KNOW (also like a theme of marriage and a comment about having children lol)

Note: i was screaming.

Y/n could feel the sweat drip down her back as her hands shook against her mouth. She had come into this race, along with Lando, assuming there would be a P2 secured for him with the new upgrades, but as the gap between him and Max got larger, it became clear it was his time. His time to let go of that stupid record, the one that had crushed him to hold, of having the most podiums without a race win. Her heart jumped every time he rounded a corner, praying to any kind of higher power to not let a safety car or a jittery move made by him ruin his chances again of winning. She couldn’t stomach the thought of that, he couldn’t either. And by the faces surrounding her in the McLaren Garage, she knew nobody else could.

Everybody held their breath, nerves overwhelming them as their eyes stuck to the screen. Could this be it? Could this be the moment where he took the title as race winner?

It seemed so as he rounded the last corner and his triumph resulted in cheers being heard for miles. Y/n didn’t realize the tears falling from her face until Andrea ran over to her, hugging her and wiping her tears with a laugh.

“HE WON!” She shouted in his face, mascara very likely smudging around her eyes. Andrea nodded at her and hugged her once more before moving on to the engineers behind her. Zak was the second person to find her, screaming with her and high-fiving her when she noticed the glistening in his eyes.

“Are you crying?!” She laughed. Zak shook his head, but wiped away the wetness right under his eye.

She giggled, “I won’t tell anyone.”

He chuckled along with her before the moments dawned on her once more.

She turned around to face the engineers, “HE WON!”

They screamed it back at her as if to try and convince themselves of it, too surreal for their comfort. There was a massive group hug between Y/n and the engineers, all of them having seen just how hard Lando worked for this exact achievement.

“Y/N!” Zak screamed from across the room. When she turned around, she found him aggressively waving his hand, motioning for her to come join him in congratulating Lando.

She squealed before taking off, leaving the man behind quickly.

On her way there, sprinting chaotically, she haphazardly facetimed Cisca, Lando’s mother. When the call went through, their two tear soaked faces met one another and they only began to cry more.

“HE DID IT, CISCA! HE WON! LAN WON!” She screamed, fans and bystanders taking out their phones to videotape the cute moment of loud support from the girlfriend of the newest race winner.

Their cameras caught her flying down the pit lane, screaming into her phone with Cisca over how elated she was for Lando. To add to the charm, the videos captured her tripping and almost face planting on the floor from the sheer pace of her legs. Her cheeks heated up in embarrassment, but she was quick to put it all aside as she pushed through the masses of people, waving her phone around and yelling at everyone to move away because she had the mother of Lando Norris on the phone.

Her body was smashed against the railings as his car came into view and her tears only came falling down harder. Andrea, who was standing off to the side and outside of the barriers, ran over to her, moving the tape up enough for her to come under. She gave him a questioning look, “Aren’t I supposed to stay behind it?”

Andrea shook his head, “Lando would’ve forced you to come out of it anyway. Just be prepared for the trample you’ll get when he gets out of his car.”

She laughed and her head whipped around at the sounds of intense cheering, seeing her boyfriend practically fly out of his car and throw himself into the arms of his team. Cisca laughed at it all on the phone, commenting to Y/n about how chaotic her son had turned out to be.

“Chaotic? I think he’s just clinically insane, hate to say it.” Y/n giggled, shaking her head at the truly concerning things Lando had said to or done with her in the years they’d been together.

“WHERE’S Y/N? DID NOBODY GET HER FROM THE GARAGE? WHAT?” Lando’s body leaned over to one of the engineers, the poor man trying to tell him how close his girlfriend was.

Finally, after a few failing attempts, the man just pointed and yelled, “SHE’S OVER THERE, MATE!”

Lando’s head turned, eyes locking with hers and softening. Andrea quickly took the phone out of her hands, knowing she would want two empty hands to welcome her boyfriend with. And just in time because Lando was sprinting to her, screaming about what he had just done.

“DID YOU SEE, LOVE?! Y/N, I WON A RACE! I’M A RACE WINNER!” His volume was deafening, but the way he crashed into her, holding her body to his as she stumbled back, said more.

It was no secret how in love the two were. Having met four years ago in the paddock, they were inseparable ever since. From the small and subtle touches to the strong statements of adoration and love, there was no fighting or doubting the two would end up sharing the same last name. Y/n had been open in the months leading up to Miami that she had begun manifesting his race win, touching many hearts in the process. Posting pictures of her journal with the sentence “Lando Norris is a Grand Prix Race Winner” written over and over and over again, his mirror with sticky notes in her handwriting with the same eight words. She stopped at nothing. Y/n even took to forcing Lando to make honey jars with her, that specific phrase on a small note inside, so that maybe it would “stick to him”. She was completely uneducated in the world of manifestation and rituals, but she liked to think she was somehow involved in this.

Nonetheless, it all paid off as he reeled back, tears in his eyes, and kissed her sweetly in front of many. His kisses were soft and hasty, drawing back every few seconds to plant another one on her mouth. His arms tightened around her frame and his lips rested against the shell of her ear, “Thank you for everything, baby. I couldn’t have ever done this without you and your spells. I love you so much and there are not enough words to express how grateful I am that you are standing here with me today.”

She grasped his cheeks, pulling him back so their eyes could meet once more, and wiped his cheeks. He did the same to her as she whispered, “This was all you. I hope you never doubt how talented you are ever again because of this, Lan. Everyone is so proud of you, we always have been, but it’s heightened today because you deserve this so much. You deserve a lot of things, this is the start of many.” She brought his face closer to hers, their noses touching, “I am so happy for you, Lan.”

The tears under his eyes pooled around her thumbs at her words and he just shook his head, kissing her again before Cisca’s voice was loading emitting from the phone beside them.

“LANDO NORRIS! YOU ARE A RACE WINNER, HONEY!” She screamed, a slight crack from the speaker.

He blushed, “Thank you, mum. I love you so much. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Adam’s head popped out from the side of the frame, “What about me?!” He said with a smile and Lando only laughed.

The parents riddled off excited murmurs of support and love before Lando was being ushered away.

A slight crease to his forward told Y/n he didn’t want to leave. She squeezed his hand, “Go, Lan. I’ll be with the engineers below while you get your trophy. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your parents have the best view.”

He shook his head, “I want you to come with me, though.”

She sighed, kissing his cheek, “No, Lan. This is your moment to shine. Go savor it, baby.”

His eyes flickered to the man waiting off to the side, waving his hand as to tell him where he needed to go, and back to his Y/n. The woman he had fallen in love with all that time ago, the woman he had been waiting for his entire life, the woman who had been with him throughout this entire journey, and the woman who he was elated still put up with him long enough to see this moment as the love of his life. He wanted her to share in the victory with him, but the pleading in her eyes told him that wasn’t the right decision. She was right. This was the moment he’d always been waiting for. This was his time to take that top step and cement his presence in it by himself.

Another reason why he loved her so much. She always knew what he wanted even when he didn’t.

Kissing and hugging her again, he ran off.

When he disappeared behind the random door that led him to his podium, Y/n turned to Andrea and Lando’s parents, the ones still on the phone with their smiling faces, they all just looked knowingly at her.

“What?” She giggled.

Cisca was the first to speak, “If there isn’t a ring stuffed away somewhere in you two’s apartment, I’ll be damned.”

—

After the champagne spraying and Lando’s eyes never leaving hers from his high podium, the two were reunited in the McLaren Garage.

His hand slid into hers before leaning his heavy body on her, “I’m so tired. That car was hot as fuck.”

Y/n’s fingers trailed up his back before sinking into his hair, tugging and scratching lightly, “Oh? Tired? That’s a shame.”

Lando let out a confused noise, “Why?”

She turned her head so her lips were close to his ear, “Because I was already planning your post race win celebration. The one in the privacy of our hotel room.”

He choked on the oxygen he was in the midst of inhaling, “I’m not tired anymore.”

“Really? The car was hot, no?” Zak stepped into their conversation, having no idea what he was interrupting.

Lando laughed and Y/n just stuttered, “Yeah, he was just saying it was. I think it’s the adrenaline of winning that’s making him feel awake.”

Zak’s mouth fell open in understanding before he stepped closer and patted Lando on the back, “I’m really proud of you, kid.”

The two shared a quick hug and Lando smiled, “Thank you for all the support you’ve shown me.”

When they parted ways and Lando led Y/n back to his car, he turned to her in the driver’s seat. His eyes bore into hers and didn’t let go as he took her hands, “I have never been as in love with anyone as I am with you and you don’t understand how happy I am you’re here to share in this with me.”

She caressed his cheekbone, “I’m so happy to be here with you too, Lan. You deserve this and so many more wins.”

There was something evident he wanted to say, but it was clear he was hesitant. Y/n could see it. Not wanting to push him, she just smiled and clutched his hand, silently telling him she was safe to confide in, that she would never leave him. Her hand holding was a promise of forever.

Just what Lando needed.

“Promise when I get down on one knee, you’ll say yes?” He whispered.

Her mind took her back to Cisca and Adam and Andrea when they all looked on at her as the future wife of their favorite boy. Her cheeks blushed, “I promise I’ll say yes.”

He exhaled a breath, “Thank God. I have a mental list of all the achievements I want to earn in my life and there’s only one thing left on it.”

She gave him a confused look as he started the car, “What is it?”

He looked at her like it was obvious, “Marrying you. Winning a race was on there,” He smiled, “check. Get into Formula One, check. Meet the woman of my dreams,” A bigger smile, “check. Treat her well,” His eyebrows raised.

She laughed and nodded, “Check.”

He dipped his head down, “Exactly. The last thing on there is to marry her - you.”

“Nothing else?” She asked, toying with his fingers as they rested on her thigh.

He moved his head from side to side, “I assume I will add things to it as we go on in life. Maybe have kids with you, that could be fun. But, for right now, just that. I’d like to bask in the happiness of knowing everything worked out in the end.”

She brought his the back of his hand to her lips and kissed the skin, “It always will, Lan.”

They met eyes as he came to a stop at a light and the comforting color of hers made Lando come to the most beautiful revelation of his life.

As long as she was with him, it truly always would work out.

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