#i meant for this to be like 900 words

[luffington]

meanie ♡

➤ summary: Zoro tests out a remote-controlled vibrator on you in the middle of town. (18+)

➤ pairing: roronoa zoro x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.6k

➤ warnings: voyeurism, semi-public sex, established relationship, degradation, humiliation, fluff at the end, franky being franky, fem terms for reader

➤ notes: i've been thinking about this concept for MONTHS and i finally got around to writing it! might make a sequel featuring sanji.. who knows :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

“What is it?” You asked after several moments of silence, studying the foreign object your boyfriend had placed in the palm of your hand. Bright blue, shaped like an oversized bullet with a slightly tapered tip, coated with soft silicone. It definitely wasn’t a weapon or a tool. Zoro’s matching remote didn’t provide any clues. 

“Something I asked Franky to make.” Zoro answered smugly but internally cringed at the memory. A few days ago, he had approached the cyborg with bright red cheeks and mumbled his request without making eye contact. Franky simply responded ‘suuuperrr!’, and Zoro was still trying to forget the fact that he already knew how to build it. “Wanna see how it works?”

The remote only had three dark blue buttons: up, down, and power. He pressed the latter and you flinched as the object suddenly sprung to life in your hand, vibrating softly but consistently. “It… vibrates? Okay, but what is it used fo–” It finally clicked in your brain. “Ohhh. Oh, Zoro.” 

He mirrored your knowing smirk with his own. “C’mon, let’s test it out.”

You could barely stand the next morning, wobbling along the deck even though the sea was calm. Nami gave you a suspicious look before announcing that the ship was about to stop at a nearby island for a supply refill. 

Zoro approached you from behind, his muscular body pressed against your back. Breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “Perfect chance to use it again.”

Your eyes widened. “You mean… on the island? In public?”

“What do you think the remote is for?” He frowned. “We talked about this, I thought you were into it. But if you don’t want to…” 

You shook your head — you definitely wanted to. This was a persisting fantasy of yours, something you’d never admitted to your past partners out of embarrassment. But you trusted Zoro more than anyone. However, touching yourself while imagining the thrill of being caught was very different from the impending reality which made your stomach flutter with anxiety. 

“It’s either in town or on the Sunny. Would you rather maybe get caught by strangers or definitely get caught by our friends?” Zoro added with an annoyed expression, “Knowing my luck, that shitty cook would be the first to notice.”

Okay, he had a point. Not just Sanji – getting caught by any of your crewmates would be incredibly awkward. At least you would never see anyone in town again.

So you let Zoro lead you to the men’s quarters, climbing onto his bed as he grabbed the vibrator from his locker. Laughing as he playfully pushed you flat on your back, slotting himself between your legs and easily pulling down your skirt and undies. He ran two fingers up and down your slit before rubbing your clit in small circles. You bit back a moan – this was gonna be a long day. When you were wet enough, Zoro pushed the vibe snugly inside your pussy.

You expected him to keep going and turn it on, maybe let you cum if he was in an especially good mood. But he hopped off the bed, adjusting his rumpled shirt and leaving you to fix your own clothes. “Let’s get going. I need a fucking drink.”

The two of you had been walking around town for nearly a half hour and Zoro hadn’t touched the remote. You passed a bar fifteen minutes ago and he kept walking – he was stalling. Parading you in front of dozens of new faces and leaving you constantly anticipating the vibrations to start. It didn’t help that he kept his hand and the remote in the same pocket of his pants.

A flashy weapons shop caught his eye. He claimed he needed new materials for taking care of his swords, but you didn’t think there was anything wrong with what he had on the ship. You practically clung to him nervously as he wandered around the shop. He occasionally stopped to study items, seeming a little too interested in a sword that was comically worse than his current ones. 

As he picked it up for a closer look, the toy sprung to life inside of your pussy, causing you to squeal in shock. Vibrations sent shivers up your spine, and you felt a fire ignite in your core just as embarrassment burned in your mind. Zoro turned the power up two levels and snickered when you grabbed onto his shirt sleeve to steady yourself. “Careful, babe, there’s a lot of sharp edges around.”

“I know that.” You pressed your forehead against his shoulder and shut your eyes tightly. Unable to do anything besides rub your thighs together. The vibrations weren’t nearly strong enough to make you cum, but they were impossible to ignore. 

“The shopkeeper’s looking at you.” Your boyfriend whispered in a sultry tone. “Bet he wishes you were clinging to him instead. He definitely knows how easy you are. How easy it is to get your slutty cunt soaking wet. You just need a pair of eyes on you, huh?”

“You’re so mean,” you pouted, clenching onto his arm even tighter. Zoro turned up the toy another level and you bit back a moan. You hesitantly turned to look at the shopkeeper, a balding man with beady eyes. He seemed skeptical, not entirely sure what was going on, but his lecherous gaze still moved up and down your body as if he were appraising you. 

“Stop staring at my girlfriend, you goddamn creep.” Zoro suddenly growled and grabbed your hand, quickly moving to the exit as you stumbled behind him. The shopkeeper flushed red and opened his mouth to respond, but Zoro cut him off. “All of your swords are fucking awful.” 

You giggled as the door slammed behind you. “Zoro, if you’re gonna get jealous, why are we doing this?”

“I’m not jealous. I’m showing off what’s mine.” He was right – ‘jealous’ wasn’t the best word to describe him, since you made it clear that he had no competition. ‘Possessive’ was more accurate. He’d been like that since the start of your relationship. Always asking who your pussy belonged to, marking you with bruises and hickies, making you scream his name over and over as he pounded his cock into you. 

Thankfully, you had grown used to the light vibrations after a few minutes – Zoro was kind enough to turn the power level down, but didn’t shut it off. The two of you entered the bar you’d passed earlier, a dark and dingy place with about a dozen people inside.

“Hey!” Luffy’s obscenely loud voice rang throughout the building. He waved you over to where he was sitting, the large table already covered in empty dishes. Your eyes widened and you subtly shook your head at Zoro. The swordsman ignored you and strolled over to the bar counter to order two glasses of sake, leaving you no choice but to sit across from your captain. 

Your boyfriend placed a glass in front of you and moved his chair incredibly close to yours, resting his hand on your bare upper thigh. You shifted in your seat — big mistake. The toy was now pressed against the most sensitive spot inside you. 

“What’ve you guys been doing? Zoro, I thought you’d come straight here,” Luffy asked around a mouthful of food.

Zoro mentioned the shops you stopped by, casually turning the vibrator much higher mid-sentence. You clamped a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your lewd moan, bending over in surprise as the toy insistently massaged your walls. It simultaneously felt heavenly and sadistic – the unrelenting pressure on your g-spot and Zoro’s big hand tightening on your thigh, clearly satisfied by your response. 

Luffy seemed confused, but Zoro told him that sake doesn’t always sit right with your stomach. Yeah, sure, your glazed over eyes and squirming legs could definitely pass as a stomach ache. Maybe to your oblivious captain, but certainly not to the people around you.

Your boyfriend’s hand moved farther up your leg, sneaking under your skirt to thumb at the waistband of your panties and rub the sensitive skin underneath. The toy got even stronger, probably on its highest setting at this point. Zoro continued his conversation with Luffy without stumbling once, barely glancing at you when you spilled your second round of sake all over your white shirt. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Luffy frowned, leaning across the table to study you closely. You prayed he wouldn’t look down and notice Zoro’s half-hidden hand. “Maybe you should talk to Chopper.”

“No! No Chopper!” You immediately exclaimed, making Zoro chuckle quietly. “I… I mean I’m fine, I’m not sick.”

Your captain hummed in thought, but in typical Luffy fashion, shrugged and said, “Well, whatever.”

Zoro finally turned to look at you with a sly grin. “Why don’t we go to the bathroom to wash off that stain?” You instantly nodded in agreement.

The swordsman shoved you against the wall of a men’s bathroom stall and crashed his lips against yours, devouring your mouth like an animal. One hand held your wrists together above your head and kept you in place as the other trailed across your chest, stopping to squeeze your tits. He delighted in your barely restrained moans and breathy whimpers of his name.

“You have no idea how fucking sexy that was,” he panted against your lips. “You’re so bad at hiding how much of a dirty whore you are for attention. All you need is your cute cunt touched and you’re gone. You probably have no idea where we are right now. The only thing your slutty brain can think about is my cock, right?”

“Yes, fuck, Zoro, I need you so badly.” With a satisfied smirk, he hiked up your skirt and pulled your panties down to your mid-thighs. Unceremoniously pushing two fingers inside your hole to retrieve the vibrator. You were so lucky that the bathroom was empty – the noise you made was unholy. 

“Your panties are fucking soaked,” he snickered, admiring the obvious wet spot on the fabric. But Zoro didn’t turn the toy off, simply turned down the vibrations then reached under your shirt and pressed it against your nipple. You cried out again as he adjusted its position so your bra would keep it firmly in place.

Zoro flipped you around so you were facing the wall. He was right – you were much too cockdrunk (and slightly tipsy on real alcohol) to care about how unhygienic a bar bathroom was. You unconsciously wiggled your hips when you heard the sound of his zipper and felt his hard cock rest on top of your ass. He grabbed your wrists again to keep them firmly pinned behind your back. 

“Don’t even need to prep you, I can just slide right in,” the swordsman chuckled. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit teasingly, then shoved his entire length inside you in one rough thrust. You let out a pleased moan, glad that you were finally getting the orgasm you’d been anticipating for at least an hour. Zoro rested his head in the crook of your neck. “You’re so damn loud. We’re still in public, y’know.”

“So shut me up.” You pressed your lips against his again, tongues swirling around each other in a messy dance as he continued to fuck you hard. His cock hit all the right places inside you, the ridges and veins and warmth giving you a more human sense of satisfaction than the electronic toy ever could. It still buzzed away against your nipple, which was almost painfully stiff at that point. Zoro panted heavily against your mouth – riling you up inevitably got him riled up, and he was just as close to hitting his peak as you were.

The bathroom door opened.

Both of you froze. Your entire body went as stiff as a mannequin, too afraid to even breathe. Zoro narrowed his good eye and listened closely to every single footstep, door creak and ruffle of clothes. There were three bathroom stalls, and the stranger was courteous enough to use the one farthest from you, leaving an empty one in between. Once he was sure that the person wasn’t a Straw Hat, Zoro’s hand moved from gripping your ass to cupping your face, silently pushing two fingers between your lips. You gagged around them anxiously.

“Now we really gotta be quiet,” the swordsman whispered directly in your ear. You didn’t have time to question what he meant before he slowly moved his hips back, his dick pulling out of you inch by inch until only the tip was inside of you. He pushed back in just as carefully, the quietest smack of skin as his hips met your ass echoing in your racing mind. The stranger heard it, you knew he heard it. Zoro shifted again and you shook your head in protest, but he just pushed his fingers farther down your throat and continued to fuck you. 

The sound of a toilet flushing made you jump. Zoro’s hips moved in slow circles and grinded his cock against your walls, deep and deliberate. You heard the stranger unlock his stall and turn on the sink outside. If he glanced in the mirror, he would definitely see two pairs of feet pressed together underneath your stall. Your pussy clenched at the thought, causing Zoro to grunt quietly.

As soon as the bathroom door swung closed, Zoro pulled his spit-soaked fingers from your mouth and you gasped for air. “Good little slut listened to me for once,” he chuckled and resumed his previous brutal pace, thick cock filling your cunt so perfectly and prodding at your cervix. 

“Fuck, I’m so close…” You whined, feeling drool drip down your chin.

Zoro promptly reached underneath you to massage your clit. “I’m right there, too, baby. Cum for me.” His words – his permission – brought you over the edge. You saw stars and really tried your best to not let the entire bar hear you. Moments later, thick spurts of cum coated your insides, Zoro biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own satisfied groan. 

You stayed pressed together as you both caught your breath, his cock still snugly inside you. “Zoro, the vibrator–” He had clearly forgotten about it, but there was no way you could ignore the incessant buzzing against your practically numb nipple. He instantly fumbled to grab the remote from his pocket, finally shutting the toy off.

“My fault,” he mumbled apologetically. Letting out a content sigh and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I know I’m an asshole, but, uh, thank you. For being so good to me.”

“You’re not an asshole,” you frowned, gently rubbing the top of his head. “I’m the one who asked for this. I like it when you’re a meanie, and I like that you like it, too.”

He grinned and nuzzled into your touch, prompting you to pull him even closer. “Is there a difference between an asshole and a meanie?”

“Of course. I would never date an asshole. Just a guy who fucks me exactly how I want it.” You giggled to yourself. “We’re going to a clothing store before we leave, by the way. You owe me a new shirt.”

When you exited the bathroom, cheeks still slightly flushed and dry sweat on your temple, Franky had stolen your chair at the table, sitting across from Luffy and chugging a bottle of cola. He spotted you two and immediately gave you a big thumbs up, shouting “Yow!”. Both of you blushed furiously — so much for avoiding getting caught by your crew. Perverts recognized perverts, you supposed. 

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[no-mercy-bby]

Me: yeah I'm basically a writer🥰

Also me whenever I have to write anything that isn't narrative or fiction:

[groundzero-v]

I noticed that an amazing fic I read with over 60k words and over 900 kudos...didn't receive a single comment in 2022.

There were some comments in 2021, then a gap, then a few comments from this year. That is insane.

Ao3 is not built like Wattpad, it is not meant to be treated like the 'latest hits' page where you only read the new works, or where you only click on sort by number of kudos. It doesn't matter if the fic you like is not wip anymore - if you really like the story, comment. A simple heart will do. The author won't think you're annoying, in fact they'll probably be incredibly happy.

Fic authors don't deserve to have their work just disappear with no engament after few weeks pass. The fics don't deserve it either

[rindreamery]

can i please get a fluffy nagi seishiro drabble with topping one as laying on your head on their chest and topping two as best friends to lovers?thank you!

ORDER 3: READY TO GO !

nagi + sweet + laying your head on their chest + best friends to lovers w.c. 900+

note. thank you guys for your patience with these 🙏 literally drowned in schoolwork for finals so i haven't really had time to write freely as i wanted to

interested in more? check out the lounge !

the thermostat in nagi’s apartment always feels like it’s cranked to the lowest temperature possible. 

the living room is freezing, the chill is constantly nipping at your skin, and you’re uncomfortably aware of the goosebumps scattered across your skin. you’re shivering in your spot, the type of cold where you can feel it under your skin and in your stomach, and the regret of wearing a worn-out hoodie is finally starting to sink in. it doesn’t help that your once-hot drink has long turned cold, effectively getting rid of your last source of warmth. 

nagi’s so unfazed, and it bothers you how he manages to look so comfortable like this, while you feel like you’re on the verge of contracting hypothermia. but you don’t want to get up; you don’t want to leave the comfort of the corner of the couch and expose yourself even more. (and in some ways, you start to think that you and nagi really are meant for each other. you’re both lazy.)

“it’s freezing, sei.” you nudge him on his thigh with your foot, easy access from where your feet lay on his lap. it’s an exceptionally rough nudge, and he groans softly at the feeling, but he only spares you a quick glance before he’s drawing his attention back to his phone. typical. your eyes twitch, your lips press into a thin line, and you’re visibly unimpressed with the man sitting next to you. you nudge him again, “can’t you crank the thermostat up, or something?”

there’s a brief pause—

“‘m too lazy,” — then comes his predictable response. you’ve had this conversation about one hundred times in the past, and his response is always the same. word-for-word, without fail. you sigh to yourself, because, quite frankly, you’re not quite sure why you were expecting something different from him this time around. you’ve accepted your fate, and you’re just about to throw your feet off his lap, ready to make the five second tread to the thermostat on the wall. but you feel a large hand press down on your ankles, trapping you. “don’t get up.”

a complaint lies on the tip of your tongue, and you have to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes. 

“what am i supposed to do then?” you grumble, crossing your arms and defeatedly sinking back into the cushions. (though, to be fair, you didn’t put up much of a fight.) his hold on your ankles never leave, and his grip tightens, ever so slightly. “you want me to freeze to death, huh?”

“c’mere,” nagi tugs at your ankles, pulling your body from its spot by an inch. he’d put his phone off to the side, and he’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to come over to him. your brows subtly pinch together in confusion, and you stay frozen in your spot, unsure of what he wants you to do. “i’m warm,” he adds, as if to convince you. 

your heart does a flip at the sight of him slightly opening his arms, inviting you to crawl over to him. but you don't rush over to him. 

you're nervous. you’ve never outright cuddled with nagi— maybe pressed your shoulders against him, thighs touching, at best. but there’s never been a situation in which you were snuggled up against him and wrapped in his arms. so there’s hesitation behind your movements as you squeeze your way into the space he’s made for you, unsure of where to place yourself and where to put your hands. do you wrap your arms around him? do you lay them on his chest— and you shake the thought out of your head.

too intimate. (but, then again, this whole situation is.)

“lay on my chest,” he mumbles by your ear. his hands are planted firmly onto your sides, guiding you into a position comfortable for the two of you, and you let him. you feel awkward and rigid the whole time, but oddly pliant under his touch, and you try your best not to act like a wooden plank against him. but it doesn’t work, and he grunts at how stubborn you are, resisting him. “try to relax a little,” and you awkwardly laugh, a nervous response. 

it takes a second for the two of you to find your place. as you lay your head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat wraps you in a sense of calm— each beat like a soft, reassuring thrum, to calm your nerves. you can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, and it almost feels like a rocking lull.

you’re becoming aware of the fact that he’s surprisingly comforting. so you allow yourself to melt into him, little by little, and he reciprocates by wrapping his arms around your waist. you feel him press his chin on the top of your head, and the way his fingers sneak under your hoodie to draw idle patterns on the skin of your back. (this feeling is foreign and weird to you, but welcome in a way.)

you’re sure nagi can feel your heartbeat, and the way it threatens to beat out of your chest, but you can feel his too.

his pulse quickens when one of your hands press against the planes of his chest, the other arm falling to your side. you feel him take a sharp intake of breath, the way his chest abruptly rises before slowly falling back down, in a shaky breath. “you warm now?” he whispers, his voice a level of gentle you’ve never heard before. 

“yeah,” you whisper back, completely settling into him, cheek pressed against the fabric of his hoodie. your hearts are still racing from the nerves of being so close, but you’re both relaxed— at peace. a silent understanding. 

you feel his mouth quirk up into a faint smile, as he presses his face deeper into your hair. “let’s take a nap together.” 

maybe, this was nagi’s plan all along.

© rindreamery, 2024

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Congrats for the 900

"Did you just throw me a pillow?"

For the evnt pls

~850 words

Your boyfriend has been busy all day. The day he was supposed to spend with you. But no, he was more distracted by phone calls, case files, and taking care of Haley.

Don't get it wrong, you love Haley, but petsitting the one day Jason promised to take you out for dinner? That stung.

So, if you were a little huffy and evasive the entire day, well, it's not like he actually noticed.

Sure, maybe you should communicate your feelings. Maybe you should tell him that you're feeling neglected and hurt. But he's a detective! He really can't take two seconds to realize his partner wants his attention just long enough to eat dinner?

You lose your patience when he tells you he'll heat up food later, and that you don't need to worry about him. He's supposed to be dressed and ready to go for your reservations, but he's not. He has one hand on some forensic sheets, and the other petting Haley.

He doesn't even look up at you. Even though you'd put in the effort to look nice. He still doesn't look up when you leave to lock yourself in your bedroom.

Jason doesn't come in until it's late, late enough that you'd normally be asleep. Instead, you're curled up in the center of the bed, heartbroken and angry.

He creeps into the room like he's trying not to wake you, and you feel your emotions flare. You don't even think before you hurl a pillow straight at his head.

He's clearly not expecting it, but years of reflexes have his hands in the air to catch the projectile, "Did you just throw me a pillow," he asks, clearly stunned.

"Go sleep on the couch," you hiss, burying your face in the sheets to hide your red-rimmed eyes.

"Baby," he breathes out, ignoring your request, he drops the pillow at the end of the bed and sits next to you, rubbing his hand over your arm, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

He sounds soft, worried. He sounds like he actually cares, and it's enough to break the floodgates of emotions you've been forcing back all day.

Your words tumble out, broken and disorientated, "You ignored me all day– Today was supposed to be our day and we had those dinner reservations and I dressed up and you didn't even look at me."

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers stilling against your skin, "I'm so sorry. That was today?"

You nod weakly, hiding your face further in the blankets, embarrassed now that you've gotten everything off your chest. It feels small when you say it out loud. It makes you feel small.

"Let me look at you now," he asks gently, slowly starting to rub your arm again.

"I'm a mess now," you choke out, "I dressed up hours ago."

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, "really, I– I never meant to hurt you. I got busy and–" he exhales shakily, lightly tugging your arm to get you to face him, "I know it's not an excuse. I should have done better by you."

You peek at him over your shoulder, and the misery on his face makes your heart lurch.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, slowly reaching to brush the tears off his face when you finally face him. He runs his thumb across the tracks of tears staining your cheeks, face furrowed.

"I'm sorry," he tells you again, lowering his head to kiss your forehead, "You're the most important thing to me. I never want to make you think differently."

You nod a little, helpless in the face of his genuine grief over hurting you. You lean into his touch, finding comfort in his soothing touches.

"I'll take you out twice this week to make up for it," he promises, kissing the rest of your tears away, "and we can spend all day together tomorrow. Does that sound good?"

"That sounds good," you echo hesitantly, your fingers finding his wrist as you speak, an unspoken ask for him to stay close.

He smiles at you, and leans down to nuzzle your throat, literally your skin with mumble apologies and kisses.

His continued onslaught of touches are only stopped by Haley jumping on the bed, clearly delighted to be your company.

You laugh at how quickly she curls up on your stomach, offering your hand slobbery licks when you go to pet her.

"Do you still want me to sleep on the couch, sweetheart," he asks, studying your every movement. It's clear he'd do whatever you asked of him.

"I want you to stay," you tell him. It's all the permission he needs, and he's quick to lay at your side, dragging his leg over yours and throwing an arm over your waist, careful not to disturb Haley.

He presses his mouth to your temple and stays there, taking you in. You think he's going to fall asleep like that for a moment. But then he speaks, "You know you're my whole world, right?"

"I– yeah. I know," you mumble, curling into him, "I just forget sometimes."

He hums, tangling you closer to him, "Then I'll remind you. Everyday. Until you can't forget."

It's another promise. Another vow. And this one, like so many others, you know he'll keep.

[novaursa]

The Broken Crown (2/2)

- Summary: Aegon the Conqueror's youngest sister, Y/N Targaryen, once bethrohed to Torrhen Stark, is forced into a marriage with her brother after he calls off her engagement out of jealousy. Struggling with her lost future and the life she never wanted, she repeatedly refuses Aegon's attempts to consummate the marriage. When she tries to escape to Essos on her dragon, Visenya intercepts her, and Aegon, in an act of control, chains her dragon to prevent any further rebellion, leaving her feeling trapped and broken.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: 1

- Word count: 9 900+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

The light of late afternoon spills into your chambers at Aegonfort. The fire in the hearth crackles quietly, but the warmth it offers feels distant, barely touching the chill that has settled deep within you. You sit by the window, staring out at the courtyard below, where the life of the castle continues as if nothing has changed.

But everything has changed.

It has been weeks since Tesaerix’s cries were last heard, her roars of frustration and anguish fading into silence, replaced by the eerie stillness of acceptance. Chained to the ground, her spirit broken, she no longer fights against her captivity. And yet, the anguish that grips your heart is as strong as ever, a constant, gnawing presence that refuses to loosen its hold. It is as if a part of you has been chained alongside her, and no matter how many days pass, the weight does not lift.

The door creaks open behind you, but you do not turn. You know who it is—there is only one person who would come to your chambers unannounced.

Aegon steps inside, his presence filling the room, though he lingers by the door, as if uncertain of his welcome. You hear the soft sound of his boots against the stone floor as he moves closer, and still, you do not turn to face him. Your eyes remain on the distant horizon, though your mind is far away, lost in the echo of memories and dreams that will never come to pass.

"Y/N," he says quietly, his voice cautious, as if he fears your reaction. "Your nameday is approaching. I’ve arranged a celebration in your honor."

His words hang in the air, but they barely register. A grand celebration—another event meant to remind you of your place, of the crown that sits on your head like a lead weight. It is as though he believes that feasts and dances, the laughter of courtiers, and the lavish display of power might somehow ease the pain that lingers in your heart.

You force a smile, though it does not reach your eyes, and nod slightly. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice distant, detached. "It is kind of you."

Silence falls between you, heavy and suffocating. You can feel his gaze on you, searching for something—some sign that you might be softening, that the wall you have built around yourself might be cracking. But it remains firmly in place, unyielding.

Aegon takes a step closer, but his movements are slow, hesitant. He is not the same conqueror in this room, not the king who has united the Seven Kingdoms. Here, in your presence, he seems uncertain, unsure of himself. His hands hang at his sides, restless as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.

"I wanted it to be special for you," he says, his voice quieter now. "Everything I’ve done… it’s been for you."

You finally turn your gaze away from the window, meeting his eyes for the first time since he entered the room. His expression is conflicted—his usual mask of authority replaced by something more vulnerable, more human. It is a rare thing to see Aegon uncertain, and for a moment, you almost feel a flicker of sympathy for him. Almost.

But the weight of what has happened between you, the chains that bind not only Tesaerix but also your spirit, is too heavy. The wounds are still fresh, too deep to be soothed by soft words or grand gestures.

"Special," you echo, the word tasting hollow on your tongue. "I see."

He opens his mouth to say something more, but no words come. Instead, he stands there, a man lost in the silence of his own making. You can see the hope in his eyes, the faint flicker of desire that perhaps you will change your mind—that you will ask him to stay, to be by your side, to share in some moment of closeness that has long been absent between you.

But you don’t. The invitation he silently waits for never comes.

You turn your gaze back to the window, the sky outside darkening as the sun sinks lower, casting the world in shades of gold and shadow. Your heart remains cold, your soul untouched by his presence. Whatever he is waiting for, you cannot give it to him. Not anymore.

Aegon lingers for another long moment, the silence between you stretching until it feels almost unbearable. And then, finally, he steps back, his movements slow and reluctant, as though each step away from you is a struggle. He pauses at the threshold, turning back one last time, as if hoping that you will stop him, that you will call him back.

But you say nothing. Your silence is its own answer.

Without another word, he leaves, the door closing softly behind him, the sound barely a whisper in the quiet room.

You are left alone once more, the distant hum of the castle’s life continuing outside, but it feels far removed from your own. You sit in the stillness, the ache in your chest as sharp as ever, the weight of the world pressing down on you as you stare into the darkening sky, wondering when—if ever—this feeling will fade.

The sound of trumpets fills the air, their bright, brassy notes cutting through the din of the crowd gathered in the tournament grounds outside Aegonfort. Banners snap in the wind, the vibrant colors of the Targaryen sigil—red and black—mingling with your own, the gold and crimson of the standard Aegon created for you. The noise of the people is a constant hum, their excitement visible as they gather for the grand tourney, held in honor of your nameday.

You sit in the royal seat, placed high above the jousting field on a raised platform. The elaborate wooden structure is draped with silks and banners, casting an air of regality over the event. The weight of the eyes below is heavy on you, but your expression remains composed, practiced. This is your moment, after all, though it feels more like a display of duty than celebration.

Your gown gleams in the midday sun, the fabric shimmering with every movement. It is a deep red, the color of blood and fire, with gold embroidery swirling around the hem and sleeves, symbolizing the flames of your house. The rich silk clings to your form, the neckline modest but elegant, the material flowing down your figure in a cascade of crimson and gold. Around your waist is a finely braided belt, studded with small rubies that catch the light, drawing attention to the dragon motif woven into the threads.

Aegon had made sure you were dressed in the colors of the banner he gave you, a reminder that you are his queen—separate yet still bound by his will. The crown he gifted you, delicate but unmistakably regal, rests atop your head. It is a circlet of pale gold, with small crimson stones set into it, matching the colors of your banner. It feels heavy, a constant weight that you have yet to grow accustomed to, a symbol of a power you never sought.

Your hair, long and shining like polished silver, is braided intricately, the locks woven into a style fitting your station, adorned with golden pins that glitter in the light. A single lock has been left loose, curling over your shoulder, a softer touch against the formal stiffness of your attire.

Beside you sits Aegon, his violet eyes ever watchful, always keenly aware of your presence. He wears his usual armor, dark and imposing, trimmed with gold and red. You can feel his pride radiating off him like heat from dragonfire. His gaze lingers on you for a moment too long, as if to ensure you have not only embraced your role as his queen but that you look the part. The crown, the colors, the throne at his side—everything has been chosen with care.

"Do you not think she is radiant?" Aegon remarks to no one in particular, his voice carrying over the din, but his words are meant for the crowd. His smile is tight, meant to dazzle, but you know him well enough to see the strain behind it. You nod politely, offering a small smile in return, though it does not reach your eyes.

On Aegon’s other side sit Visenya and Rhaenys, both dressed in their own regal attire. Visenya, severe and cold as ever, wears black, her armor gleaming beneath her cloak, a silent reminder that she is the sword of your family. Rhaenys, in contrast, is draped in lighter colors, her violet eyes warm and playful, though even her smile seems dimmed by the undercurrents that swirl through the family.

The crowd roars as the herald steps forward, raising his hands to signal the start of the tournament. The cheers grow louder, echoing across the field as knights in shining armor ride out, their horses snorting and pawing at the ground, eager for the competition. The joust is about to begin, a display of power, skill, and loyalty—all in your honor.

Aegon rises from his seat, his imposing figure drawing the attention of everyone present. His armor clinks softly as he moves, and he raises his hand, signaling for silence. The crowd quiets almost instantly, all eyes on the Conqueror.

"In honor of my queen," he begins, his voice strong, carrying over the vast sea of spectators, "we celebrate her nameday with a display of the finest knights in the realm. Let this tourney show our strength, our unity, and our devotion." He pauses, glancing down at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "But before the joust begins, I wish to honor her in another way."

The murmurs from the crowd grow louder as Aegon steps down from his platform, making his way to his waiting horse. His squire rushes to his side, handing him his helmet, the dragon sigil gleaming in the sunlight. He mounts the large, black stallion with practiced ease, turning to face the royal stand.

"I will compete in this joust," Aegon announces, his voice filled with confidence, "in honor of my queen, Y/N, who has graced us with her beauty, strength, and loyalty."

Your heart clenches at the words. His declaration, his participation in the tournament, is all for show—a grand gesture to prove his devotion to you. Yet all you feel is the tightening grip of duty around your chest. The crowd erupts in cheers, and you force another smile, nodding at him as though this is exactly what you wanted.

Aegon’s gaze remains fixed on you for a moment longer, as if waiting for something more—perhaps a sign of approval, an invitation for him to return to your side after his victory. But the emptiness within you, the lingering ache that no crown or grand display can mend, keeps you silent. Your smile falters slightly, but still, you say nothing.

The crowd’s cheers continue as Aegon turns his horse toward the jousting lanes, ready to prove his prowess on the field. As he rides away, the space beside you feels colder, and the weight of the crown on your head presses down harder than ever.

...

The thundering hooves of horses echo across the field as the first knights prepare for the joust. Banners ripple in the wind, bright colors dancing against the azure sky as the crowd cheers, eager for the spectacle. You sit in your royal seat, your hands folded in your lap, eyes drifting over the tournament grounds. Lances gleam in the sunlight, and the clinking of armor fills the air as the first challengers ready themselves at the end of the lists.

But your thoughts are far from the cheers and excitement of the crowd. The weight of your crown feels suffocating, and your gaze strays, not to the knights or the lances, but to the far-off silhouette of Tesaerix. Chained, grounded, a shadow of her former glory. From this distance, you can barely make out the flicker of her golden and crimson scales in the sunlight, but you know she is there, tethered to the earth as you are tethered to your fate.

Rhaenys leans toward you, her voice soft as she attempts to draw you back into the present. "It’s quite the sight, isn’t it?" she says, her tone gentle, almost coaxing. "These knights would give anything for a chance to win favor from the queen of the day."

You nod politely, but your smile is forced, your mind not on the tournament or the gallant knights. Rhaenys, ever perceptive, catches your distraction, her brows furrowing slightly. "You seem distant, Y/N," she murmurs, her voice laced with concern. "Is something troubling you?"

Your response dies in your throat as your gaze flickers back to the horizon where your dragon is held captive. The ache in your chest deepens, a quiet fury simmering beneath your outward calm. "Tesaerix," you finally whisper, your voice soft but heavy with meaning. "I cannot stop thinking of her, chained there while we celebrate."

Rhaenys follows your gaze and falls silent, perhaps sensing the gravity of your pain, but before she can respond, Visenya, ever sharp and vigilant, leans forward from her place beside Aegon. Her voice is cold, a warning cloaked in authority. "Do not even entertain the thought, Y/N," she says, her violet eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours. "You will not free her, nor will you make a spectacle of defiance here."

Your blood runs hot at her words, and you turn to face her, your gaze hardening. "And what would you do, Visenya, if Vhagar were bound in chains?" you ask, your voice low, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "Do you think you would sit there so calmly if she were made to suffer like Tesaerix? I would see her miserable as you’ve made my dragon."

The insult hangs in the air like a sharp blade. For a moment, the tension between you and Visenya is palpable, her lips pressing into a thin, dangerous line as she regards you with something between anger and cold resolve. Her hand twitches as if she might grip the hilt of the sword always at her side, her eyes flashing with a silent warning.

But before she can retort, the rumble of hooves draws your attention to the lists. Aegon rides forward on his black steed, his armor glinting in the sun like dark steel, his helm adorned with the sigil of the dragon. The sight of him, proud and commanding, steals the air from your lungs, if only for a moment. The crowd erupts into cheers as the king takes his place for his first tilt.

Aegon rides past the royal stand, his eyes catching yours for a brief second. There is something unreadable in his gaze—pride, perhaps, or a plea for recognition—but you do not hold it for long. He wheels his horse around and lowers his lance, ready to compete, the first challenger already in position across the field.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the pressure between you and Visenya still lingering, but your eyes are now fixed on Aegon. His horse stamps impatiently, nostrils flaring as it waits for the signal to charge. You cannot help but feel the weight of what this moment represents. He is not just jousting for sport; he is jousting for you, for your approval, though you find it difficult to offer anything more than cold indifference.

The herald raises his flag, and the trumpets blare again. Aegon spurs his horse forward, charging down the lists with deadly precision. The opposing knight, though skilled, seems small compared to your brother’s imposing presence. The ground trembles beneath the weight of their charge, the clattering of armor and hooves filling the air.

Aegon’s lance strikes true, shattering against the other knight’s shield with a thunderous crack, sending his opponent crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust. The crowd roars its approval, but the sound washes over you, distant and hollow.

He circles back, his horse kicking up dirt as he passes you again, his gaze seeking yours once more, waiting for your reaction. But all you can think of is Tesaerix, grounded and silent, far from this spectacle. The chains that bind her feel like chains around your own heart, and no matter how grand this celebration, no matter how skilled Aegon is in his displays of strength, it does nothing to free you from the cage you find yourself in.

You offer Aegon a small nod, nothing more, and he rides on, returning to the field for his next challenge. The cheers rise again, but in the quiet of your mind, there is only the sound of chains, rattling against the earth.

The Great Hall of Aegonfort is alive with light and sound, the towering stone walls adorned with tapestries depicting the dragons of House Targaryen. Tables laden with rich foods—roast meats, fruits, and fine breads—stretch the length of the hall, and the clatter of goblets and the murmur of excited conversation fill the air. Musicians play in one corner, their tunes light and festive, attempting to match the celebratory mood of the evening.

At the center of it all sits Aegon, victorious from the day’s tourney, his head held high and a satisfied smile playing at his lips. He now wears a simple crown of dark iron, his armor exchanged for a fine tunic of black and red, the sigil of the three-headed dragon emblazoned proudly on his chest. His eyes, however, are on you.

You sit beside him at the high table, still adorned in your colors of gold and crimson, though the joy of the evening seems lost on you. Despite the merriment around you, a tight knot of frustration coils in your chest, one that has only grown since the tourney’s end.

The feast is in full swing, and yet the animosity between you and Aegon is seen by all around you. He notices your coldness, the way your gaze barely meets his, and the way you’ve hardly touched your food. You’re an island of silence in a sea of celebration, and the strain between you grows more obvious with every passing moment.

Aegon turns to you, leaning in slightly, his voice low so as not to draw attention from those around you. "Is something wrong, Y/N?" His words are careful, but there is a slight edge to them, a hint of irritation beneath his outward concern.

You finally turn to look at him, your expression tight. "Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?" you say, your tone sharper than you intended. "Why would the King of Westeros compete in his own tourney?"

His brow furrows, clearly taken aback by your criticism. "It was in your honor," he replies, his voice firm but measured. "I wanted to show—"

"You wanted to show off, Aegon," you interrupt, your voice quiet but biting. "You’ve already conquered Westeros. Must you also conquer a tournament that was meant to be a gift to me?"

He blinks, clearly not expecting such a reaction. "I was honoring you. Showing the realm your importance, your—"

"No," you cut in, your gaze hardening. "You were showing the realm your power. You didn’t let the knights fight for glory or honor. You took that from them, just as you’ve taken everything else. It wasn’t fair to them."

The tension between you sharpens, and the warmth of the hall seems to dim, at least in the space between the two of you. Aegon’s jaw tightens, his fingers drumming against the table as he processes your words. "You think I should’ve let them win," he says, disbelief lacing his tone. "As if they deserved it more than me."

You lean in slightly, keeping your voice low, though your frustration is clear. "Yes, Aegon, I think you should’ve let them win. You already have the Seven Kingdoms. Why take this from them too? The knights came here hoping for glory, for a chance to win your favor—or mine. But they were never going to, not with you in the lists. They had no chance."

Aegon’s gaze darkens, his fingers stopping their rhythmic drumming. "You wanted me to lose," he says, his voice soft but dangerous.

"It’s not about losing," you reply, struggling to keep your voice steady as the simmering anger within you rises. "It’s about fairness. What was the point of them competing if the outcome was already decided the moment you took the field?"

Aegon’s expression grows colder, his pride clearly stung. "I did this for you, Y/N," he says, his voice harder now. "For you."

"And that’s precisely the problem," you say, your voice trembling slightly, not with fear but with the weight of everything unsaid. "You think everything you do is a gift to me, but you never ask me what I want. You never stop to think about what I might need."

Aegon’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, the weight of his gaze is unbearable, like staring into dragonfire. He takes a slow breath, clearly trying to rein in his temper. "What would you have me do, then?" he asks, his voice dangerously quiet. "Step aside? Watch others take what I’ve built?"

You stare back at him, unflinching. "What you’ve built is already yours, Aegon. You don’t need to prove it to anyone. But maybe... maybe you could let someone else have a moment. Just once."

Aegon’s face tightens, his frustration clear, but he says nothing. His silence feels heavy, pressing down on you both like a smothering weight. The noise of the feast around you continues, but it feels distant, almost hollow, as if you are both cut off from the rest of the hall.

Finally, after a long, tense moment, Aegon rises from the table, drawing the attention of those around you. His expression is unreadable, his eyes hard as they sweep over the hall. "I need air," he mutters, his voice clipped. Without waiting for a response, he strides out of the hall, his departure swift and silent, but leaving a wave of discomfort in his wake.

The guests glance in your direction, curious whispers rippling through the crowd. You sit there, your hands gripping the edge of the table, your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him leave. The weight of your words lingers, hanging in the air between you, but now he is gone, and you are left with the aftermath of your confrontation.

Rhaenys, ever perceptive, leans in slightly, her voice soft as she tries to ease the tension. "You speak the truth, Y/N," she says, her tone gentle but understanding. "But Aegon... He is not one who takes criticism easily."

"I know," you murmur, your voice distant as you stare at the empty space where Aegon once sat. "But someone has to tell him."

Visenya, sitting quietly at the far end of the table, glances at you but says nothing, her expression unreadable. She has always been loyal to Aegon above all else, and though she may agree with you in silence, she would never speak it aloud.

The feast continues, but for you, the victory Aegon claimed in your name feels hollow, like everything else he’s given you—a gift wrapped in chains.

Aegon pushes through the grand doors of the hall, his movements sharp and purposeful, though inside, his heart is a storm. The warmth and noise of the feast fade into the background as he steps into the cool night air, the silence wrapping around him like a cloak. The torches lining the walls cast flickering specters across the stone courtyard, but Aegon hardly notices. His thoughts are too loud, too chaotic, drowning out everything else.

Servants and lords alike part in his path, their eyes darting nervously away as he strides through the corridors of Aegonfort, his jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides. They sense his anger, his turmoil, and none dare to stand in his way. Even the guards lower their gazes, unwilling to meet the eyes of the king when he is like this—when the Conqueror wears his crown of fire.

Aegon’s mind races, replaying the confrontation with you over and over again. Your words had cut him deeper than any lance could. He had wanted to honor you, to show the realm your importance, but instead, you had seen only pride, only selfishness. He had fought for you, but all you had seen was a king who took what he wanted, again and again.

He walks with no clear destination, but his feet carry him toward the outer edge of the fortress, where the dragons are kept. It is instinct, perhaps, that draws him there—a need to be near the creatures that have always been his strength, his power. Yet as he approaches the dragon stables, a familiar sight meets his eyes outside them, one that still stirs unease in his chest.

Tesaerix.

The dragon lies chained to the ground, her once-majestic wings folded tightly against her body, her neck bound with heavy iron links that glint in the torchlight. Her deep crimson eyes, fierce and sharp, stare directly at him as he approaches, burning with a silent accusation.

Aegon stops a few paces away, his breath hitching as their gazes lock. Tesaerix does not roar or thrash as she once did when first bound—there is only a quiet, simmering fury in the way she looks at him now. The fire in her eyes, though dimmed, is far from extinguished.

He stands there for a long moment, staring at the dragon, the creature that had been bound because of you. Because of what you had tried to do. And now, here she lies—chained, just as you were, in a way, trapped by decisions neither of you had wanted.

"She hates me," Aegon mutters aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. It is not a question. He can see the loathing in the dragon’s gaze, the way her chest rises and falls with each slow, measured breath, as if restraining the full force of her anger. It is a mirror of the feelings he senses in you every time you look at him now.

He takes a step closer, though the chains rattling softly in the wind serve as a stark reminder of the distance between him and the creature. He should feel satisfaction at seeing Tesaerix subdued, knowing that she cannot be used against him again, that you cannot take her and flee to the ends of the earth. But instead, standing before her now, he feels... hollow.

The dragon’s crimson eyes bore into him, and for a fleeting moment, Aegon wonders if she knows what you feel, if she shares in the same grief and fury. Tesaerix has been chained, grounded—stripped of her freedom just as you have been. And now, here he stands, the man responsible for it all.

"You aren’t the only one who hates me," Aegon says bitterly, his voice hoarse. "She hates me too." He rubs a hand across his face, wiping away the tension etched there, though it does nothing to ease the storm in his chest.

Tesaerix lets out a low, rumbling sound, not quite a growl, but enough to make Aegon take another step back. The dragon shifts slightly, her chains clinking with the movement, and her eyes narrow as if daring him to come any closer. She does not trust him, not after what he has done. Just like you.

"I did what I had to," Aegon mutters, his voice quieter now, as if trying to convince himself as much as the dragon. "She would have left. Left me."

But the words feel empty, even to him. He had acted out of fear, out of a need to control what he could not bear to lose. But now, standing here before the chained dragon, watching her watch him with those blood-red eyes, he wonders if he has only made things worse—if the cost of keeping you with him has been too high.

The night air grows colder, but Aegon doesn’t move. He stands there, rooted in place, staring at the dragon who will never be free, who will never forgive him. The silence between them is thick, broken only by the occasional snap of the chains as Tesaerix shifts her weight.

Aegon exhales slowly, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He has won Westeros, but what has he truly gained? A kingdom at his feet, yet the one thing he wanted—your love, your acceptance—remains out of reach.

The sky above Aegonfort is a pale blue, streaked with thin clouds that drift lazily in the wind. Below, in the courtyard, the dragons are being readied for flight, their massive forms casting long shadows over the stone. Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes stand tall, their wings rustling, eager for the skies. Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys are already mounting their dragons, their expressions focused, their movements practiced and sure.

You stand back, lingering near the edge of the courtyard, your eyes fixed on Tesaerix. She rests at the far end, still chained to the ground, though her posture seems less resigned today. There’s a spark of anticipation in her deep red eyes, a flicker of life you haven't seen in weeks. As your siblings prepare for their flight, you hesitate, your heart heavy as you approach her.

Tesaerix watches you with a quiet intensity as you draw near, her cream-and-crimson scales gleaming in the morning light. The iron chains that bind her wings and limbs seem smaller than they once did, though the weight of them still hangs heavily on her. You place your hand gently on her snout, your fingers brushing the warm, smooth surface of her scales. She rumbles softly, a deep, thrumming sound that reverberates through the ground beneath you. It’s a sound of recognition, of trust, and your heart clenches painfully at the thought of her continued imprisonment.

"I’m sorry," you whisper, pressing your forehead to her head, the words thick with guilt. "I failed you."

Tesaerix shifts beneath your touch, her tail curling slightly, as if she’s trying to reassure you in her own way. The warmth of her breath on your skin, the way she leans into your hand—it’s a small comfort, but it’s not enough to ease the ache in your chest.

The sound of heavy wings beating the air pulls your attention away, and you glance toward your siblings. Aegon is already on Balerion, the Black Dread shifting impatiently, ready to take to the skies. Rhaenys sits astride Meraxes, her face calm, her dark hair lifting in the breeze. Visenya, cold and commanding as always, mounts Vhagar with the ease of someone who has done this a thousand times before.

But it is Visenya who surprises you.

Just as you think she will signal for the dragons to take off, she turns her head, her sharp violet eyes locking onto you and Tesaerix. Her expression is hard to read, as always, but there’s something different in her gaze today—something that isn’t purely cold calculation.

"Tesaerix will be unchained," Visenya says, her voice carrying across the courtyard, firm but not cruel. You blink, stunned, as her words sink in. "She will be allowed to fly."

You stare at her, hardly believing what you’ve heard. For a moment, you think you’ve misunderstood, but Visenya’s gaze does not waver. She looks at you as if she knows exactly what you’re thinking, as if she has anticipated every protest, every question.

"Dragons are not meant to be grounded," Visenya continues, her tone clipped, as though stating an obvious fact. "If she remains chained, she will wither. Grow weak. That is not something we can afford."

Her words are logical, practical, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it. You meet her gaze, searching for any sign of softness, of understanding. There is none—only the cold, unyielding presence of the warrior who has always put duty above all else.

Still, the relief you feel is undeniable.

"She… she will fly again?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking it aloud might break the fragile possibility of freedom.

"Yes," Visenya replies simply, already turning her attention back to Vhagar. "For now."

The weight in your chest loosens slightly, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You turn back to Tesaerix, your fingers brushing along her snout once more, your heart swelling with the thought of her finally being free from the chains that have held her for so long. She seems to sense it, the change in the air, and her body shifts eagerly beneath the heavy chains.

"Thank you," you whisper again, but this time, the words are not for her alone.

Aegon, having overheard the exchange, looks at you from atop Balerion, his expression unreadable. For once, he says nothing, perhaps choosing not to interfere in this moment. The three of you have been at odds for so long, the air thick with unspoken grievances, but for now, he holds his tongue.

The chains are unlatched, the heavy iron falling away from Tesaerix’s limbs and wings, the sound of it loud in the quiet courtyard. For the first time in weeks, she stretches her wings fully, the golden and crimson membrane catching the light, glimmering like blood and flame. She lets out a deep, triumphant roar, her voice rising above the fortress walls, echoing across the land.

You smile—an involuntary, fleeting thing—watching as Tesaerix shakes off the last remnants of her confinement. She looks at you, and for a moment, there is a connection between you both, something pure and powerful, something that reminds you that you are not as alone as you have felt.

Aegon signals for the flight to begin, his hand lifting in a silent command. Balerion takes to the skies with a powerful sweep of his wings, followed closely by Meraxes and Vhagar. You watch them ascend, their forms growing smaller as they soar higher into the sky.

You mount Tesaerix, feeling the familiar warmth of her beneath you. With a single word, she launches herself into the air, her wings slicing through the sky, unbound, free. The wind rushes past you, lifting your hair, filling your lungs with the crisp air of the open sky.

For the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of freedom—not just for your dragon, but for yourself.

The sky is darkening as the four of you descend from the clouds, the distant glow of the setting sun casting the horizon in hues of gold and violet. The air is cooler now, and the wind that once rushed past you in exhilarating gusts begins to calm as your dragons lower themselves back toward the ground. Tesaerix lands gracefully, her wings beating only a few times before she touches down, her massive form folding into the familiar courtyard. The echo of her powerful roar, given just before your descent, still lingers in the air.

Vhagar and Meraxes land nearby, their massive bodies kicking up dust and loose stone as they settle. Visenya and Rhaenys dismount smoothly, their faces impassive as they slide from their dragons' backs and make their way toward the entrance of the fortress. They exchange a few quiet words between them, their long cloaks trailing behind as they move inside. There is an ease in their movements, a sense of routine and familiarity. They have done this countless times before, and tonight is no different.

But Aegon lingers.

He remains mounted on Balerion, watching as you dismount from Tesaerix, your fingers brushing the dragon’s warm hide before you step away. Her wings shift slightly, and she lets out a contented huff, clearly enjoying her brief return to the skies. Your connection with her, after all the time apart, feels more solid than it has in weeks. The bond between dragon and rider, though strained, has never fully broken. And now, as you stand beside her, it feels as though some part of you is healing.

Aegon watches from a distance, his expression unreadable. The towering figure of Balerion stands still behind him, the great dragon’s eyes half-closed as if bored by the day’s events. But Aegon’s attention is fixed on you. His gaze follows your movements as you move closer to Tesaerix’s snout, resting your hand on her once more. The quiet affection between you and the dragon is unmistakable, and for a moment, Aegon looks as though he is wrestling with something—an emotion he cannot quite name.

He dismounts slowly, his armored boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. As he steps forward, he does not call out to you, nor does he try to interrupt your moment with your dragon. Instead, he simply watches, his usual confidence replaced by something quieter, more introspective. There’s a chasm between you, but it feels different tonight—less heated, less full of the bitterness that has tainted so many of your recent interactions.

You sense his presence before you hear him, your head lifting slightly as Tesaerix rumbles softly, her large eyes flickering in Aegon’s direction. She is calm now, her anger toward him seemingly subdued after the freedom of flight. But you can feel the unspoken tension in the air as your brother approaches, the weight of the past weeks hanging between you.

“You’re staying behind?” you ask, your voice low but without the usual bite. There’s no accusation in your tone, just curiosity.

Aegon stops a few paces away, his hands resting at his sides, fingers brushing the leather of his gloves. He looks at Tesaerix for a moment before his eyes return to you. “I wanted to see how she fared,” he says, his voice measured, quieter than usual. “After being chained for so long.”

You glance at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But for once, Aegon doesn’t seem to be playing the king, the conqueror. His words feel honest, unvarnished. His gaze shifts to Tesaerix, who meets his eyes for a brief moment before turning her attention back to you, her focus unshaken by the presence of the man who once imprisoned her.

“She’s strong,” you reply, your voice soft. “Stronger than I gave her credit for.”

Aegon nods, his eyes lingering on Tesaerix’s folded wings, the glow of her golden scales dimming with the falling night. “Dragons aren’t meant to be chained,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you. His words carry a weight that you know isn’t just about Tesaerix. He’s speaking of more than dragons now.

You feel something unspoken between you both—he knows what he did was wrong, but admitting it outright is something Aegon rarely does. Still, this moment feels different. It’s not an apology, but it’s close enough.

You look away from him, your gaze returning to Tesaerix, who lets out a soft rumble as you run your hand along her snout once more. “She missed the skies,” you murmur. “Just like I did.”

The silence stretches between you, thick but not uncomfortable. For the first time in weeks, Aegon seems unsure of himself, as if he doesn’t know how to breach the distance between you, even as he stands only a few feet away. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but the words falter before they leave his lips.

You can feel him hesitating, lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, he steps forward, his gaze softening as he watches you with Tesaerix. “I wanted to give you something today,” he says, his voice low. “I thought… I thought letting her fly would show you that I’m trying.”

You pause, turning your head slightly to look at him, the surprise evident in your eyes. It isn’t like Aegon to admit such things. He’s always been the conqueror, the king who takes what he wants. Vulnerability isn’t something you’ve come to expect from him.

“She deserves to be free,” you reply, your tone neutral, though a flicker of something warmer slips into your words. “As do we all.”

Aegon looks at you, his gaze searching, but whatever he’s hoping to find, he doesn’t ask for. He nods, a brief but telling gesture. “Perhaps,” he murmurs, though his tone suggests that freedom is a concept he still struggles with.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the distant murmur of the wind and the occasional rustle of Tesaerix’s wings. Finally, Aegon takes a step back, turning his gaze toward the fortress. “We’ll be flying again in the morning,” he says, though his voice lacks the command it usually holds.

“I know,” you reply softly.

He looks at you one last time, as if he wants to say more but knows there are no easy words for what lies between you. Then, with a final nod, he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing against the stone as he disappears into the shadows of the fortress.

The days have grown quieter in the weeks since Tesaerix was freed from her chains, and the anger that once filled the air between you and Aegon has begun to ease, though the distance between your hearts remains vast. The nights are cooler now, the winds carrying the scent of the sea as they sweep through the towers of Aegonfort. The sound of dragons is ever-present, their cries echoing through the stone walls, a reminder of the power your family holds.

You stand by the fire in your chambers, staring into the flames as they flicker and dance. Your thoughts drift, as they often do, to the life you could have had. Winterfell, the snow-covered plains of the North, and Torrhen Stark’s quiet strength. The ache is still there, a dull, constant pain that you have grown accustomed to, though it never truly fades.

A soft knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn, already knowing who it is before you see him. Aegon steps into the room, his movements slow and unhurried, his gaze settling on you with a strange mix of determination and hesitation. He has been visiting you more often as of late, his presence less forceful, less commanding than it once was. He no longer brings gifts or demands anything from you, but simply... comes.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he says, closing the door behind him, his voice low and cautious. He’s always careful now, as if each word could set off an unseen tremor between you both.

“I’ve had much on my mind,” you reply, turning back to the fire, though you know he can read the truth in your silence.

He crosses the room and stands beside you, the warmth of the fire washing over both of you. The heat of his presence, so close yet still restrained, is something you’ve slowly come to tolerate, even accept, though the bitterness of your lost future never fully leaves you.

“You’re thinking of him,” Aegon says after a long pause, his voice soft but heavy with understanding. “Of the Stark.”

You stiffen slightly, your eyes still fixed on the flames. It is rare that he speaks of Torrhen. You’ve both avoided the subject for the most part, as if not naming it could keep it from being real, from haunting what little peace you’ve managed to find. But Aegon is nothing if not perceptive, and tonight, it seems, he is unwilling to let it lie.

“Yes,” you admit, the word slipping from your lips before you can stop it. There is no point in denying it—Torrhen is always there, lingering in the corners of your mind, a shadow of what could have been. “I think of him often.”

Aegon nods, though the movement is barely noticeable, his gaze distant now, as if he too is grappling with something he cannot fully understand. “I know,” he says quietly, his tone carrying no anger, no jealousy—only resignation.

You turn to face him, surprised by his lack of hostility. For so long, you had expected rage, had anticipated that his possessiveness would rear its head whenever you so much as mentioned the man who had once been your future. But Aegon has changed, in subtle ways, since you returned to each other’s orbit.

“I tried to take everything from you,” he continues, his voice rough with the weight of the admission. “But I could never take him from your heart, could I?”

The vulnerability in his words surprises you, catches you off guard. Aegon has never been one to admit weakness, and yet here he stands, acknowledging the one thing he cannot conquer—your love for Torrhen Stark.

“No,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t.”

He sighs, and for a moment, he looks almost weary, as though the weight of his victories, his crowns, his conquests have finally taken their toll. “I’ve conquered kingdoms, united the Seven, but when it comes to you, there’s always... something I can’t reach.”

You meet his gaze then, your eyes locking with his. There is something raw in his expression, something fragile and unguarded. And for the first time, you see not the conqueror, not the king, but the man beneath all that—the man who, despite his power, is haunted by the one thing he cannot command.

“You have me now,” you murmur, though the words feel like a compromise, a truth that does not tell the whole story.

He steps closer, his hand brushing yours lightly, as if testing the boundaries of your comfort. “But I don’t have all of you, do I?” His voice is soft, tinged with a sadness that you have rarely heard from him.

You don’t answer right away, because you don’t need to. The silence between you speaks volumes. He already knows the answer, and so do you. No matter how much time passes, no matter how close you become, a part of you will always belong to Torrhen Stark—a part that Aegon, for all his might, will never possess.

Still, you allow his fingers to lace with yours, a small gesture of acceptance. You do not love him, not in the way he wants, but there is a quiet understanding growing between you, a shared sense of loss that binds you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I’ll never be him,” Aegon says softly, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “But I’ll try to be what you need.”

The words hang in the air between you, a promise that feels both hopeful and tragic. You look up at him, searching his face for any hint of deceit, but there is none. He is being truthful, as much as he can be. Aegon may never be the man you dreamed of sharing your life with, but perhaps, in his own way, he is trying to build something out of the wreckage of what he destroyed.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He leans in slightly, his forehead resting gently against yours, and for the first time, there is a sense of peace between you. The fire crackles softly behind you, the warmth of it surrounding you both as the night deepens. Aegon may never truly understand the depth of your love for Torrhen, but in this moment, he doesn’t need to. What matters now is the quiet bond forming between you—a bond not of passion, but of shared wounds and quiet resolve.

And though the ache for what was lost still lingers, for the first time, you wonder if perhaps, in this strange, broken way, you and Aegon might find a path forward together. Not as lovers, but as something else—something more complicated, but no less real.

Ending Where Y/N Stays

The night sky is a deep velvet blanket above Aegonfort, scattered with stars that twinkle faintly against the vast expanse. 

You stand by the window, staring out at the dark horizon, lost in thought. It has been a full moon since the quiet understanding between you and Aegon began to grow, since the edges of your shared pain started to blur. The walls you had built around yourself, brick by painful brick, have not crumbled, but they’ve begun to weaken, piece by piece. And tonight, something feels different. Something inside you has shifted, though you can’t name it.

The sound of the door opening behind you breaks the silence, and you don’t need to turn to know it is Aegon. His presence is familiar now, though it still stirs a flutter of uncertainty in your chest. His footsteps are slow as he crosses the room, stopping just a few paces away. The air between you is charged, not of hostility but of something else, lingering in the space between you.

“You’ve been distant today,” Aegon says softly, his voice carrying a note of hesitation, though his usual confidence remains. He stands just behind you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body, though he doesn’t touch you.

You don’t answer immediately, still staring out at the night, your fingers lightly gripping the stone ledge of the window. After a long pause, you turn to face him. His violet eyes meet yours, searching for something he cannot yet name, and for the first time in a long while, you don’t look away.

“I’ve been thinking,” you finally say, your voice quiet but steady. The weight of what you are about to say rests heavily on your shoulders, but there is no fear in it—only the calm that comes with acceptance.

Aegon’s brow furrows slightly, his gaze questioning, but he says nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“For so long, I’ve kept you at arm’s length,” you say, taking a slow breath. “I’ve pushed you away because I couldn’t bear the thought of... letting you in.” You pause, your chest tightening with the weight of the truth you’ve kept buried for so long. “But I can’t keep living like this, Aegon. Neither of us can.”

The silence that follows is thick, filled with all the things neither of you have said, all the things you’ve left unspoken. Aegon’s eyes soften as he steps closer, his hand lifting slowly to rest gently on your arm. His touch is light, almost tentative, as if he’s afraid of crossing some unseen boundary.

“What are you saying, Y/N?” he asks, his voice low, barely more than a whisper.

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, though not with fear. You take a step closer, closing the distance between you until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the heat of his body radiating through the small space that remains.

“I’m saying that I’m tired of fighting,” you murmur, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m tired of denying what’s right in front of me.”

For a moment, Aegon says nothing. His eyes search your face, as if trying to understand the full meaning of your words, to grasp the depth of what you are offering. And then, slowly, his fingers slide down your arm, tracing a path to your hand, where he intertwines his fingers with yours. His touch is gentle, but there is a quiet urgency in it, a need that has been simmering between you for far too long.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely audible, a note of vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his usual bravado.

You nod, the tension in your chest easing slightly as you look up at him, your heart no longer weighed down by hesitation. “Yes,” you whisper, the word carrying with it the weight of your decision.

Aegon’s breath catches, and for a moment, he simply looks at you, as if trying to commit this moment to memory. Then, without another word, he lifts his free hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. The touch is soft, almost reverent, and the tenderness of it sends a shiver down your spine.

He leans in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away, to stop this before it begins, but you don’t. You close the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that is tentative at first, testing the boundaries of what you are ready to give. But as the moments pass, the kiss deepens, growing in intensity, the pent-up emotions between you spilling over, unchecked and unguarded.

Aegon’s hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss becomes more insistent, more desperate. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his tunic, holding onto him as if he is the only thing grounding you to the world in that moment. The heat between you rises, and before long, the space that once separated you has vanished entirely.

He pulls away just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as his hands cup your face, his eyes searching yours. “If you want to stop...” he begins, his voice rough with desire, but you silence him with another kiss, your answer clear.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of heat and whispered promises. His hands move across your skin with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, but there is an urgency in the way he touches you, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tightly enough. You match his pace, your body responding to his with a need that surprises even you.

When the last barriers fall, when you finally allow him to take you, there is no hesitation. No more fear. The weight of the past is still there, lingering in the shadows of the room, but for the first time, it doesn’t define you. In that moment, with Aegon’s arms wrapped around you, with his body pressed against yours, the pain and anger that have haunted you for so long feel distant, like a memory you’ve chosen to let fade.

When it’s over, you lie together in the quiet of the night, the fire in the hearth casting a soft glow over your entwined forms. Aegon’s breath is slow and steady beside you, his hand resting lightly on your waist, his touch still gentle even in sleep. You close your eyes, exhaustion pulling at you, but your thoughts linger on the moment that just passed.

You know he loves you, and in some strange, broken way, you love him too. But the part of you that still belongs to Torrhen Stark remains untouched, a quiet, persistent ache that will never fully leave you. Aegon may have you now, but he knows—as you do—that he will never have all of you. And in the end, perhaps that’s enough.

Ending Where Y/N Leaves

The moon hangs low in the night sky, casting a pale, silvery light over Aegonfort. The fortress is still, the only sounds the distant crash of the waves and the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind. Inside, the corridors are quiet, the courtiers and guards long retired to their quarters. But sleep does not come for you tonight.

The decision has been growing inside you for days, a quiet resolve that started as a whisper and has now become impossible to ignore. The weight of it presses heavily on your chest as you stand in your chambers, your gaze drifting toward the window where the faintest glimmer of stars can be seen.

You cannot stay.

The walls of Aegonfort feel like a cage, closing in around you, and no amount of quiet moments or tender gestures from Aegon can change that. The love he seeks, the connection he so desperately craves, is not something you can give him. You have tried—gods, you’ve tried—but the life he built for you, the crown he placed on your head, is not the one you wanted.

And so, you’ve made your choice.

You move through your chambers with quiet purpose, pulling on a cloak and gathering only what you need for the journey ahead. Your heart races in your chest, not with fear but with a strange sense of calm. This is right. This is the only way. The only way to reclaim a piece of the freedom you lost.

Slipping through the silent halls of the fortress, you avoid the gaze of the few guards posted along the corridors, your movements careful and deliberate. The heavy stone walls seem to press in around you as you descend the steps that lead to the stables. Tesaerix is there, waiting for you, as if she can sense what is about to happen.

The air grows colder as you approach the courtyard, the scent of the sea strong in the night breeze. The dragon stables loom ahead, dark and silent, and for a moment, you pause, your heart hammering in your chest. But there is no turning back now. Not after everything.

Tesaerix stirs as you step into the open space, her golden and crimson scales catching the moonlight as she shifts her massive wings. She is restless, and her eyes gleam in the dim light, locking onto you the moment you approach. There’s a flicker of understanding in her gaze, and as you reach her, she lowers her head, letting out a low, rumbling sound.

You press your hand to her warm scales, your fingers trembling slightly. "It’s time," you whisper, the words barely audible in the stillness. Tesaerix’s breath huffs against your skin, her body tensing as if she, too, has been waiting for this moment.

The saddling is quick, your hands moving through the motions with practiced ease. You pull yourself up onto her back, settling into the familiar seat between her powerful wings. For a brief moment, you glance back at Aegonfort, the towering structure outlined against the night sky. The place that has been your prison, the place where you have been both queen and captive.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and with a quiet command, Tesaerix lifts into the sky. Her wings beat powerfully, carrying you higher and higher, the ground falling away beneath you as you ascend. The rush of the wind in your ears drowns out the last remnants of hesitation, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you feel free.

The stars stretch out above you, vast and endless, and the open sky welcomes you like an old friend. Tesaerix soars with grace, her wings cutting through the cool night air, and you urge her eastward, away from Westeros, toward the horizon where the distant lands of Essos await.

You do not look back.

The sea below stretches out in endless darkness, the waves crashing silently against the shores you are leaving behind. The life you once dreamed of—Winterfell, Torrhen, a future filled with love and quiet moments—feels distant now, like a memory from a different life. And Aegon, for all his power and his efforts to keep you by his side, cannot follow you here. Not this time.

The night passes slowly, the rhythm of Tesaerix’s flight steady and constant as she carries you farther and farther from the world you once knew. The stars shift above you, guiding you onward, and the distant lights of ships below seem small and insignificant compared to the vastness of the sky.

You do not know where you will land, or what lies ahead in Essos, but for now, that uncertainty is a comfort. It is a reminder that you still have choices, that your fate is still your own to shape.

As the first light of dawn begins to break on the horizon, you feel a strange sense of peace. The path before you is unknown, but it is yours. 

[mononijikayu]

lay your love on me — nanami kento.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you prepared to drop your bombshell. “You know how I’m always worried about you being a sorcerer and putting yourself in danger?” He nodded, clearly not seeing where you were going with this. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times.” “Well,” you continued, struggling to keep a straight face, “I’ve come up with the perfect solution to that problem.” “And what’s that?” Kento asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think you should quit being a sorcerer and become my house–husband instead,” you announced with a grin.

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, possessive behaviour, protectiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, nanami kento is that MAN, reader petitions for nanami to be her house husband;

WORD COUNT: 5.4k words.

NOTE: i hope this makes up for the fact that i've been writing a lot of angsty fics. this was supposd to be a baywatch thing. but i changed my mind. anyway, i'll be doing the side - 900 works in advance. i hope you enjoy this!!! from this point, i might be slower in updating because i'll be back to uni again and probably will be a little bit more busy. thank you for reading and always enjoy this one too!!! i love you <3

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HE’S NOT PROUD OF THE MAN HE’S BECOME. But it’s hard for him, when it comes to you, his precious wife. Nanami Kento had always considered himself above petty emotions like jealousy. He was calm, rational, the kind of man who could look at the world with a level head.

Yet, ever since he met you, ever since he’s fallen for you, built his life, his universe about you — his life had taken a turn he hadn't anticipated. You brought out something in him that was unfamiliar and unsettling—a possessiveness, an insecurity that gnawed at him whenever he saw the way others looked at you. 

As he sat next to you on the sun-kissed beach, the warm Malaysian sunbathing you both in a golden glow, Nanami Kento found it difficult to fully relax. This was supposed to be your quality time, the belated honeymoon you both had both worked so hard to carve out from your hard and demanding schedules. For once, he had managed to take time off from his life as a sorcerer, a rare break that was meant to be a celebration of your love, their commitment to each other. 

You were just as busy as he was, if not more. As a lawyer, you were brilliant, successful, and independent. You made more than he did, something that had never bothered him—until now. Not because of pride, but because it made him realize just how much you had to offer. You could have anyone, and yet you had chosen him. The thought should have been reassuring, but instead, it only added to his insecurity.

Instead of peace, he found himself caught up in a swirl of emotions he couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t just his possessiveness—it was the realization that, for the first time in his life, he was vulnerable. He was vulnerable because he loved you so deeply, because the thought of losing you, or of someone else taking your attention, filled him with a fear he didn’t know how to handle. 

Kento couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you lay on the sunbed, basking in the warm Malaysian sun. The way the golden rays kissed your skin, making it glow, had him utterly captivated. You were wearing the tightest two-piece bikini, a vibrant floral design that contrasted beautifully against your sun-kissed skin. The colors brought out the vibrancy of your figure, accentuating every curve in a way that made his heart race.

He watched as you stretched languidly, your body moving with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly to him. The sunlight danced across your skin, highlighting the delicate contours of your body, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the curve of your waist, the length of your legs.

Every inch of you was perfection in his eyes, and it drove him mad how stunning you were. But it wasn’t just your physical beauty that had him so entranced; it was the knowledge that you were his, that this incredible, breathtaking person had chosen him.

His gaze lingered on your face, where a peaceful smile played on your lips, your eyes closed as you enjoyed the warmth of the sun. The gentle breeze teased a few strands of your hair, brushing them across your forehead, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck them behind your ear. He loved these quiet moments, where he could just watch you, memorize the way you looked in the golden light, the way the sun turned your hair into a halo of warmth.

You were the most beautiful being to ever exist to him, and the thought made his chest tighten with a mix of pride and disbelief. How had he been so fortunate? What had he done to deserve someone like you in his life?

The longer he watched you, the more he felt that familiar, possessive edge creeping in. It was a feeling he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, one that he had never experienced before you came into his life. He had never thought of himself as the jealous type, but when it came to you, something primal and protective stirred within him. He didn’t want anyone else to look at you the way he did, to see what he saw, to appreciate the way you made the world a brighter, more beautiful place just by existing.

And yet, as he sat there, he knew that others couldn’t help but notice you too. It was impossible not to. You were radiant, magnetic, and he could see the way people’s gazes lingered on you, the appreciative looks that followed you whenever you walked by. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to do something irrational, to pull you close and stake his claim in front of everyone.

Kento could see the way men’s eyes lingered on you, the admiration in their gazes as they took in your beauty. It made his blood boil in a way he wasn’t proud of. He wanted to stand up, to make it clear that you were his, that no one else had the right to look at you like that. But he stayed silent, gripping your hand a little tighter, hoping the feeling would pass.

You opened your eyes, and your gaze met his. The smile that spread across your face was one of pure love, your eyes softening as you looked at him. In that moment, all his insecurities melted away. You were his, and he was yours. It was as simple as that.

Kento leaned back in his chair, his own smile tugging at his lips as he continued to watch you. You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow, your expression playful as you caught him staring.

“See something you like?” you teased, your voice light and full of affection.

“Always, my love.” he replied, his voice deep and sincere. His gaze never left yours as he spoke, and you could see the intensity of his feelings reflected in his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that made his heart skip a beat. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

Kento couldn’t help but grin at that, though his expression quickly turned serious again. “It drives me mad, you know,” he admitted, his voice low. “How beautiful you are. How you’re mine.”

The way he said it, with such raw emotion, made your heart flutter. There was something in his tone, something almost possessive, that sent a shiver down your spine. But it wasn’t a bad feeling. If anything, it made you feel even closer to him, knowing that he felt so deeply for you.

“And you’re mine.” you replied softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. The simple touch seemed to calm him, his fingers threading through yours as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Your eyes narrowed on him. “Only mine.”

And then there was your possessiveness. You couldn’t deny it—you were just as bad as he was when it came to jealousy. You tried to play it cool, but the truth was, you were no better at hiding it than he was. The moment you noticed the women stealing glances at him, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders, his chiseled features, you felt a wave of irritation wash over you.

It was subtle, but Kento could sense the tension in you, the way your posture stiffened, the way you shifted closer to him, almost instinctively, as if to stake your claim. You wanted the world to know that this man was yours and yours alone.

Just as it does now.

Because if you were being honest, your husband was the most beautiful man in the world. With his muscular build and tall six-foot frame, he was the epitome of masculine perfection. The way his long, muscular arms held that beer bottle in his massive palm, the casual strength in his grip, made your heart flutter. His chiseled jaw tightened as he glanced in the direction of the men who had dared to look your way, his bright brown eyes narrowing in a clear, unmistakable warning. He didn’t have to say a word—the message was loud and clear: stay away.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break through. This man belonged to you, and he wanted everyone to be sure that they knew it. There was something undeniably satisfying about the way he made it so obvious, so deliberate. And you knew that he felt the same way about you. 

His gaze flicked back to you, softening when he saw the look in your eyes. It was a look that said, “I’m yours.” and it made your heart swell with love and possessiveness all over again.

You didn’t care if it was irrational, if it was a little bit crazy—this man was yours, and you were his. And you wanted everyone to know that you belonged to each other, that nothing and no one could come between you.

Kento must have sensed your thoughts, because he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You know you’re the only one I see, right?”

His voice was deep, reassuring, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I know, babe." you whispered back, your fingers curling around his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make sure everyone else knows it too.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper, something more primal. “Good.” he said, his tone possessive and full of promise. “Because I’m not about to let anyone forget that you’re mine either.”

You grinned at that, the fiery possessiveness in his words matching your own. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that neither of you would ever let anyone come between what you had. Because you both knew that what you had was rare, precious, and worth protecting at all costs.

As you stood there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky you were. This beautiful, strong, and fiercely loyal man was yours. And you were his.

You pressed a kiss to his jaw, savoring the way he responded, the way his arm tightened around you just a little bit more. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything you felt for him, everything you both felt for each other. This man belonged to you, and you belonged to him. And nothing in the world could change that.

It was a strange sort of dance, the two of you caught in a loop of possessiveness that neither could quite break free from. And yet, there was something oddly reassuring about it. In a world where you both faced so many uncertainties, where danger lurked around every corner, this shared jealousy was a reminder that you were both fiercely committed to each other. It wasn’t healthy, Kento knew that, but it was real. Even if you weren’t proud of it, even if Kento wasn’t proud of it — it was real. Between the two of you. It was love for you.

Still, the women’s gazes hadn’t wavered, you noticed. Their eyes still linger on your husband as if they had every right to admire him. The sight made your blood simmer, a protective, possessive streak flaring to life within you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kento—he was as loyal as they came—but you didn’t appreciate the way they were looking at him, as if he were something to be desired, something they could claim if they tried hard enough.

Your grip on his hand tightened as you leaned closer and you cast a glance in his direction. Kento, ever composed, was doing his best to ignore the attention, but you could see the slight tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flickered to you as if seeking reassurance. He puts away the beer bottle on the side and looks to you again. 

A grin slowly spread across your lips as an idea formed. If those women wanted to look at your husband, you’d give them something to see—a clear, undeniable reminder that he was yours. You leaned in, your hand resting on his chest as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

Kento looked down at you, a question in his eyes, but before he could ask, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a hot, passionate kiss. The world around you faded as you poured all your love, your possessiveness, your desire into that kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a statement. A declaration that this man, this incredible, strong, loyal man, was yours. And no one else had any right to him. He only belongs to you. Only you.

Kento’s initial surprise melted away as he responded in kind, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head, pulling you even closer. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that matched your own, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body relaxed into yours as if nothing else mattered. Kento’s arms slowly wrap around the small of your back, kissing you even deeper. 

When you finally pulled back, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. You could see the effect it had on him, the way his eyes had darkened with desire, the small, satisfied smile that tugged at his lips. You glanced over at the women who had been ogling him earlier. Their expressions had shifted—some were embarrassed, others annoyed, but all of them had gotten the message loud and clear.

Triumph surged through you as you turned back to Kento, your grin widening. “I think they got the point, babe.” you whispered, your voice teasing.

Kento chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your lips as if to savor the moment. “I believe they did.” he murmured, his tone filled with warmth and a hint of amusement. “Though I must admit, I didn’t mind that at all.”

“Then…..can we continue this upstairs?”

Your husband’s eyes narrow, almost awakening something in him. “What do you have in mind?”

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YOU DON’T THINK YOU WOULD EVER GET TIRED OF HIM. Nanami Kento always made you feel so many things—desire, love, passion—and you loved every bit of it. The tension between you had been building ever since that heated kiss on the beach, and as you made your way back to your hotel room, it only grew stronger.

Each step, each shared glance, every subtle touch added fuel to the fire burning between you. The anticipation was electric, and by the time you reached the door, it was like a dam waiting to burst.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the restraint you’d both been holding onto snapped. You pressed yourself against him, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that had your head spinning. It was as if you couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t close the gap between you fast enough. His hands roamed your body with a hunger that matched your own, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more desperate, as you both succumbed to the need that had been simmering beneath the surface all day. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you back toward the bed as he claimed your mouth over and over again, each kiss more intense than the last.

You could feel his desire, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, the low growl that rumbled in his chest as you tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head. The moment the fabric hit the floor, his lips were back on yours, his hands working to free you from your bikini. The way he touched you, with a mix of reverence and raw need, sent shivers down your spine. He breaks the kiss.

“Kento, Kento….” you breathed finally, your voice trembling with anticipation as you felt his lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands moved with purpose, untying the strings of your bikini, and the sensation of the cool air against your bare skin only heightened the intensity of the moment.

He leaned back for just a moment, his gaze sweeping over you with a look of pure, unfiltered desire. “You’re perfect, my love.” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, before his lips were back on yours, more insistent this time, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a second.

Your hands found their way to the waistband of his beach shorts, your fingers trembling slightly as you pushed them down, the fabric pooling at his feet. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his hard, muscular frame pressed against you, and it sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

The bed hit the back of your knees, and before you knew it, you were tumbling onto the soft sheets, Kento following you down, his body covering yours in an instant. The weight of him, the feel of his skin against yours, was intoxicating. He presses his lips against yours again, the heat between your bodies burning you even more.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if he was trying to memorize you all over again. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, the heat of him throbbing against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

His lips left yours, trailing down your neck once again and across your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. The feeling of his mouth on your skin, combined with the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, was almost too much to bear.

“Kento, babe.” you gasped, your voice breaking as he found that sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing the skin there in a way that made you arch against him, desperate for more. “It’s so….it’s so hot.”

“Tell me what you want, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with need.

“You.” you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every part of him against you. “I want you, Kento.”

The way he responded, with a deep, guttural groan, sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them. It was as though he found home again. You groaned as you felt his hands explore the exposed skin. He was enjoying this, you knew. He enjoyed teasing you.

“God, Kento.” you breathed out, your voice trembling with need. He was driving you wild, his touch lighting you up in ways you hadn’t thought possible. You needed more, needed him closer, needed to feel him in every possible way..

You could feel him pressing against you, his lips returning to yours in a kiss that was just as intense as before. It was almost too much, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours, the way his hands moved with such skill and tenderness, the way every inch of him seemed to be in tune with your needs.

The anticipation was building, the need for him becoming overwhelming as you felt his fingers deftly undo the last of your bikini top. The cool air of the room brushed against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between the two of you. You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs, the desperate longing for him growing with each passing second.

Kento’s touch was everything—gentle and firm, demanding and patient all at once. The way he handled you, the way he made you feel, it was almost too much to bear, and yet you couldn’t get enough. You wanted more, needed more, and he seemed more than willing to give it to you. He liked to give you more and more, to satiate your greed.

Your bodies moved together with a rhythm that felt both familiar and electrifyingly new. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the soft rustle of sheets, and the occasional, intoxicating moans that slipped from your lips as Kento's hands roamed over your bare skin.

His touch was a maddening mix of tenderness and raw desire, each caress lighting a fire inside you that grew with every passing moment. His fingers traced the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, and the softness of thighs, lingering just long enough to make you gasp before moving on. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as his lips followed the path of his hands, kissing and nipping at every sensitive spot he could find.

You arched your back as his mouth moved lower, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone before trailing down to your chest. He took his time, savoring every inch of you as if he wanted to memorize the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him. His tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you that made your toes curl. You moaned his name, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, urging him on.

Kento responded with a low growl, the sound vibrating against your skin as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before letting his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. The sensation was almost too much to bear, your body reacting with a surge of heat that pooled between your thighs. You could feel the wetness there, the way your body was aching for him, and you knew that he could feel it too.

His hands slid down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips before dipping between your thighs. The first touch of his fingers against your slick heat made you cry out, your hips bucking involuntarily as you pressed yourself against his hand. He moved with agonizing slowness, teasing you with light, feathery touches that only made your desire grow stronger.

You could feel the tension building inside you, the need for release becoming almost unbearable as he continued to tease you. His fingers slipped between your folds, stroking you with a skill that had your head spinning. Each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. One after another, it was a pandemonium of pleasure. When you came, you sobbed as you felt his fingers tighten against your crevices.

“Kento, babe. Please.” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “Please, I need you.”

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him, and that knowledge sent a thrill of excitement through you.He removed his fingers, licking them clean one after another, enjoying the taste of you. The sight of him made you even more wet.

“What do you want, my love?” He cooed at you. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside, Kento.” You muttered, your eyes beaming with pleasure. “Please, babe. Please.”

He didn’t make you wait any longer, his dear love. With a practiced ease, he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he guided himself to your entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against your swollen folds, and you could feel the heat of him, the way his length stretched you as he slowly pushed inside.

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of him filling you completely making you gasp for air. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to anchor yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure that threatened to consume you.

Kento moved with deliberate, measured thrusts, each one sending a wave of ecstasy through your body that made your vision blur. He was gentle but firm, his pace steady as he worked to bring you both to the peak of pleasure. You could feel every inch of him inside you, the way he stretched you, filled you, in a way that made you feel utterly complete.

Your moans filled the room, each one growing louder as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with a growing urgency. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound almost drowned out by the symphony of your lovemaking. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, the familiar pressure building as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

“Kento, I’m… I’m so close, babeeeeee!” you breathed out, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were right on the edge, teetering on the brink of a powerful release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

“Let go, love.” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough with desire. “I’ve got you. Let go for me.”

His words were all you needed. With a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body shattering into a million pieces as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your voice breaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last.

Kento followed you into bliss, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release overtaking him. You could feel the warmth of him spilling into you, the way his body trembled against yours as he groaned your name, his voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, the world stood still. All you could feel was him, all you could hear was the sound of your racing hearts and the ragged breaths you both struggled to catch. He stayed inside you, his body pressed against yours as you both came down from the high, the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you.

Slowly, he pulled out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness that was quickly replaced by the warmth of his arms wrapping around you. He pulled you close, holding you against his chest as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, love.” he whispered, his voice soft and full of sincerity. “So much.”

“I love you too, babe.” you murmured back, your voice barely above a whisper. Your body was spent, completely exhausted from the intensity of your lovemaking, but you felt content, safe, and utterly cherished in his arms.

As you lay there together, his arms tighten around you as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, with the warmth of his body against yours and the sound of the waves crashing outside, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be—right here, in his arms, for as long as you both lived.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

epilogue

Later that evening, after the intensity of your earlier moments had faded into a comfortable, blissful haze, you found yourself curled up against Kento’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around you. You sighed, almost as though you were the most content in your entire life.

He’d already made sure to take care of you and clean you up, even making you some tea so that you could relax on your shared bed. And you love him for it. He always spoils you to no end. The sound of the waves outside your window was a soothing backdrop, lulling you into a state of utter contentment. 

As you lay there, a thought popped into your mind, one that made you grin mischievously. You tilted your head up to look at him, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest.

“Kento, babe.” you began, your tone teasing, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Hm?” He glanced down at you, his expression warm and relaxed, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

You bit your lip to keep from grinning as you prepared to drop your bombshell. “You know how I’m always worried about you being a sorcerer and putting yourself in danger?”

He nodded, clearly not seeing where you were going with this. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times.”

“Well, babe.” you continued, struggling to keep a straight face. “I’ve come up with the perfect solution to that problem.”

“And what’s that?” Kento asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think you should quit being a sorcerer and become my house–husband instead.” you announced with a grin.

There was a moment of silence as Kento processed what you’d just said. His usually stoic expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to determine whether or not you were serious. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and it only made it harder for you to hold back your laughter. He looked cute, when he's thinking, you like to believe.

“A… house–husband?” he repeated slowly, as if testing the word out on his tongue.

“Yes! A house–husband, babe.” you confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “You’d be amazing at it! You could cook, clean, and take care of everything at home while I go to work. And you’d never have to worry about exorcisms or curses or any of that dangerous stuff ever again.”

Kento blinked at you, his mouth opening as if to say something, then closing again as he reconsidered. Finally, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “And what would I do all day at your house–husband?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d find plenty to do, babe.” you replied, barely able to keep a straight face. “You could perfect your cooking skills, learn how to fold the perfect fitted sheet, maybe even take up knitting! Plus, you’d have plenty of time to dote on me when I come home from work. Maybe even meet the old ladies at the corner store! They really like zumba, just as much as you do.”

At that, Kento let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Knitting, huh? I didn’t realize that was part of the job description.”

“Well, it’s optional.” you conceded with a giggle. “But I think you’d be really good at it.”

Kento shook his head, clearly amused by your antics. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious.” you replied, though the twinkle in your eyes betrayed your true intentions. “I mean, think about it. No more dangerous missions, no more fighting curses. Just a quiet, peaceful life at home with me. Grow old together and me spoiling my husband with bringing in the dough and you spoiling me with all your love. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

He considered it for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “It does sound nice.” he admitted, his tone still teasing. “But I’m not sure how I’d feel about giving up my job to become a… house–husband.”

“Oh, come on.” you coaxed, poking him playfully in the ribs. “You’d love it. And I’d love coming home to you every day. Plus, you’d look really cute in an apron.”

That finally did it. Your husband Kento burst out laughing, the sound rich and warm as it filled the room. You couldn’t help but join in, your own laughter mingling with his as you both imagined the ridiculousness of the idea. But you suppose the ridiculousness of it is what made it so touching. Life is always strange anyway, you think. And he knows that too. 

When the laughter finally subsided, Kento leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I appreciate the thought.” he said, his voice full of affection. “But for now,  I think I’ll stick to being a sorcerer for now. Though I have to admit, the idea of being your house–husband is tempting.”

“Tempting enough to reconsider?” you asked with a grin, though you knew his answer.

“Not quite, love.” he replied, chuckling. “But I’ll keep it in mind as a backup plan.”

“Deal.” you agreed, snuggling closer to him. “But just so you know, I’m not giving up on the idea entirely. You’d make an excellent house–husband. Mine only, of course.”

Kento smiled down at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. “And you’d make an excellent lawyer who brings home the bacon.”

“Then it’s settled.” you said, laughing. “We’ll just have to make sure you stay safe so I don’t have to resort to plan B.”

“With you by my side, love?  I have no doubt I will.” he murmured, kissing you softly as you both settled back into the peaceful, contented silence of the evening.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the heavy weight of guilt (part one)

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, age gap (reader is 25 though), married!rafe (but not to reader), aged up!rafe, cheating, cheating fetishization, female receiving oral, brief mentions of pregnancy but reader is on birth control, recorded sex, semi dub con in sense of rafe doesnt know hes being recorded

part one / part two

“tell me again.” you moan out, back arching off the bed as rafe pounds into you, as if the act isn't enough.

“you're better than her.” rafe grunts out. there's no point denying it, not when he keeps coming back for more, abandoning his wife to make dinner for herself why he claims to be busy, but the only thing keeping him away is burying himself in your cunt.

“tell me.” you continue, eyes squeezed close as his cock stretches you.

“you're tighter than her.” rafe knows what you want to hear. anything that confirms his feelings for you and not his pleasant wife.

“i know.” you moan out. it's not the first time you asked rafe, and it certainly won't be the last.

“ill leave her for you.” it's not the truth, and both of you know it. the only way that rafe would ever leave is if he gets exposed. he can't ruin the perfect image of his life, the family he poses with for christmas cards and kids he sends away to daycare or boarding school so he doesn't have to grapple with the fact that they're actually his.

“yeah?” you smile up at him, your eyes wicked. “leave her so you can fuck my young pussy every night?”

in truth, you're not even that young. you're 25 years old, but it's a big gap between rafe.

you're certain that's why his wife would never suspect him to be cheating. probably thinks he's past his prime and can't get it up easily, but that's just when he tries to sleep with her. when with you, rafes hunger is insatiable.

“cum in me. make me pregnant like your stupid wife.” you beg out. you're on birth control, but the thought of stopping, of refusing to swallow that little pill, has you excited.

“fuck!” rafe shouts out, spurring his hips even faster, pounding into you until his cock swells and releases, ropes of cum spurting inside of you, warning you from the inside out as rafe grunts your name repeatedly.

he's worried about slipping up if he sleeps with his wife. imagining he was fucking you instead of her. maybe turning her face down so her mop of brown hair is the only thing he can see, reminding him of your soft curls he loves to tug on.

“eat me out.” you tell rafe, commanding him. he may be older, but you're the one in charge of the situation, the one that seduced him into sleeping with you in the first place.

he felt so guilty after that he almost drank himself to death, but still came crawling back a week later, dick painfully hard.

rafe pulls out and plugs your hole with his finger, just like he used to do to his wife when trying to get her pregnant, but only because as soon as her tummy swelled it meant he could stop sleeping with her.

the marriage wasn't a completely loveless one, but they both knew what joining the two most powerful families in the outer banks meant. at least as far as he knows, his wife has been faithful throughout.

his finger inside you is different. as he slides to his stomach between your legs, it keeps his cum from dripping out, but more importantly, allows him to quirk his finger up and press against the gummy spot that has your eyes widening as you gasp.

rafe smiles up at you briefly, the sounds of your pleasure like the sweetest melody, before diving into your pussy.

he misses your taste on his tongue whenever he has to spend a few nights away as he obsessively licks and sucks at your clit. he's learned what you like best, what makes you cum the hardest and fastest.

moans of his name fall from your mouth, louder than you normally would to make sure they're picked up as you reach a hand down, pushing through his messy hair, still slightly wet with sweat from the exertion of fucking you.

rafe looks up at you, your bare chest moving up and down with every heavy breath, pert nipples on display as your mouth falls open as he sucks at your clit.

“close.” you warn, feeling his finger inside of you move even faster.

only a few more strokes until you let out a loud shout, cumming to screams of his name as rafe licks you gently through your high, feeling your clit pulse against his tongue.

rafe pulls away quickly with a sigh, always feeling the heavy weight of guilt seconds after getting you off.

“you should just leave her, rafe.” you sigh as he stands from your bed, quickly grabbing his clothes to get back to his house.

“i can't. it's not that simple.” rafe says. you've been through it all before. the prenup, the status, the judgment. all reasons he can't leave.

“fine.” you huff, standing up as he heads towards your door, not bothering to get redressed yourself. “don't bother coming back then.”

rafe looks at you with hurt in his eyes, partially for you and partially to his wife, knowing it's not fair to either of you.

“hey.” rafe says softly, pressing a kiss to your lips. “ill see you at my lunch break tomorrow?”

“fine.” you say again, prompting another kiss from rafe before he flees.

you wait until you hear the front door open and shut to turn to your dresser, picking up the teddy bear and looking into the hidden camera in its eye with a smile on your face.

“sorry, mrs. cameron.” you say with a dark chuckle.

[causenessus]

Biggest Sweethearts. | Haikyuu

inc. atsumu, oikawa + bokuto as an extra <3

written in 2nd pov

song recc: brooklynn baby by lana del ray

word count: 1244 words

summary: defending atsumu and oikawa against playboy allegations or in other words, the kind of partner each boy needs <3

ik i already lowkey went off and defended atsumu in that one post while i went crazy in windowless rooms for 12 hours that one day but i wanted to write the full thing <3 i have not posted written content in so long!! happy 900 followers <3 this has all been written in one night while my brain is giving out so i apologize

miya atsumu

atusmu needs someone who knows what he’s doing

he definitely wants a part in leading a relationship but he wants someone who he can fall back on and isn't expecting him to be like a full-time hotshot

he needs someone who loves him unconditionally, seeing past all the fronts he puts up and loves him past the douche he can sometimes act as/be

of course it’s fine if you tease him like his friends, he’d expecting nothing less, but falling for you means you’re someone he feels safe with

someone he feels comfortable enough to be soft around, someone he can come to after a long day and let his shoulders drop as he falls on top of you while you’re laying on the couch

he doesn’t feel like he has to maintain a facade of a man whose strong and acts like nothing ever phases him around you

like yes, he’s strong and makes a show of it for you all the time, but everyone needs a rest day <3

when you guys are at home together he’s actually pretty quiet

it’s all loving gestures and soft voices

hands wrapping around your waist while you’re in the kitchen and a murmured “i missed you” while he peppers kisses down your neck

he can be so loud around his friends and it’s part of an autopilot switch that just flips on being around them, and being loud is nothing bad

but if he needs your help with something while you’re both home, he’s never yelling for you

he’ll peek his head in, finding you laying on your shared bed

“babe?”

when you look up, he’s picking at the doorframe, quietly waiting a response

“if you’re not busy can you help me with something? it’s okay if you don’t want to”

you’re already getting up from the bed, softly pulling his hand off the doorway to hold it between both of yours, “of course i’ll help you, ‘tsumu, what do you need?”

biggest baby ever actually

he could never be with someone short term or do casual relationships and he really hates hookups

everything already feels so superficial to him besides volleyball, and he knows he’s eye candy but he wants to be more than that

he wants to be more than the shallow flirt his fans seem to obsess over

(of course he’s a big flirt, but his comments are reserved for you and you only <3)

falling for you means he’s found that in you; he’s found someone who sees him for who he really is and still loves him

oikawa tooru

tooru knows what commitment is

he knows that fruition will only come from time

if he wants something meaningful, he has to put effort into it. he isn't going to get that from messing around with a girl or nothing else

of course he accepted the gifts from his fan club and ate up their attention, but once he met you, it no longer meant anything to him

he wanted you to be wholly is, and him to be wholly yours

he would never do anything to make you think that he wants anyone else but you

he’s committed 100% to you which also means you also receive 100% of his flirting because he enjoys the reactions it gets out of you

and even when he teases you, his words are light and harmless; you can hear how much he loves you behind it all

honestly probably the best communicator ever because he wants to make sure you know how much he loves you

will text you about how he’s been asked to do a photoshoot with a model and then will write you an essay on how he’s not doing it because he’s interested in anyone else other than you and in fact, he’ll only be thinking of you during the shoot

his fan club made it a little hard for him to really accept or even know who he was, he wasn’t sure anyone would value him for anything other than his volleyball skills and looks

but you’ve stayed with him, seeming to find the positives in everything he’s done. even through the games he’s lost, and when he’s acting pessimistic and is isolating himself, you’ve stayed with him

you’ve talked him through the losses. when he’s curled up and turned away from you, mind drowning in thoughts of failure, your voice seems to break through everything

you take small steps towards him, telling him that you’re coming closer, and that if he wants you to leave at any moment then to tell you

but he never tells you to leave

he’ll lean into your touch, and he feels how much it quiets his head

as soon as he’s better he’s always apologetic for how he acted and he tells you how thankful he is for you while rubbing small circles on your skin

you always hush him with a kiss

“tooru, i’m not gonna get mad at you or leave you just because you lost a game and then understandably get upset. you’re always working so hard”

you silence his biggest fear

he needs someone who really sees him

you’ve never once failed to notice an accomplishment or how hard he’s working at something and that’s what he needs, rather than someone whose only with him for what he can give them or for something physical like his appearance/manners <3

extra!! bokuto koutarou

NOT a playboy but i just wanted to sort of hc the kind of person he needs in his life

amongst everyone who always seems to be “growing up” in the world, he needs someone who will still see the beauty and the color in the world

not here for anything that those people who are always posting about “look how successful i am at the age of 18” “here’s how to make an extra 10k a year” “you should be doing this, you shouldn’t be doing this…”

just wants to be happy with u <3

he needs someone who will still get excited with him over getting ice cream, looking at christmas lights, watching new episodes, and more <3

he knows money or whatever concerns of life people have will be solved and follow after happiness so he’s also definitely your biggest cheerleader

always advocatess for you to find things to do that you enjoy. hushes any concerns you have about how much it'll pay

"i've got it, baby. you do whatever you want. whatever makes you happy. and if volleyball somehow doesn't make enough i'll find a way :) maybe akaashi will let me help him with his editing"

will check in and make sure you’re always doing good

will always always always come over immediately to be with you if you’re not

he'll brings over food or distractions to give you company, never pressuring you to feel better immediately

it’s okay to stay and work through any feelings you’re having <3 there’s no rush, but he does want you to be feeling good so he’ll stay with you until you’re doing better and even after <3

life isn’t simple, he knows that, but there’s also no reason to overcomplicate it in his mind so he’ll never fail to get excited over new movies and getting to go out with you <3

paying bills and tax days are fun

(also he's definitely the kind to be like "we should just get married rn so we get those discounts")

you’re both fighting for your lives, the table is a mess, and while some couple next door is argued over taxes, you both have your heads in your hands

then you’re both looking up at each other

“i didn’t even know we got charged for having a phone” he whispers, absolutely horrified

“me neither,” you reply, just as confused

“do you wanna go watch wall e?”

“yes” you’re both already sliding out of your chairs, leaving the bills for another day

[somber-sapphic]

Hi! I have a request for a WandaNat x Reader fic. The reader is on a mission with Tony and Steve that quickly goes south. Additionally, the reader comes down with the flu. Steve and Tony have been arguing over how best to care for the reader. Wanda and Nat are sent for extraction to pick up the three of them, but they are unaware that the reader is sick. When they finally arrive, they rush back to the compound to get the reader into the Med Bay and ultimately nurse them back to health.

In Good Hands

〖Summary: Natasha and Wanda comfort you while you're stuck in the MedBay〗

〖Word Count: 900〗

〖Pairing: WandaNat x Sick R〗

〖Notes: This isn't super focused on Tony and Steve (I don't write men) but I hope you like it!〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You coughed and turned your head, the crinkling of the MedBay pillow case ringing throughout the all too quiet room. Natasha had gone to change into something more comfortable and Wanda was chewing out Tony and Steve in the hallway. 

You could see her standing there, one hand on her hip and the other waving in the air, tendrils of magic trailing her fingers. The look on their faces was enough for you to know that she was digging into them, you didn’t need to hear her words to assume how angry she was. 

Another cough sprung from your lips, this one harsher than the last. You were pretty out of it from whatever drugs they had given you, something for the pain something else for the fever, and whatever they put in the tea they made you drink. It was presumably some sort of flu medicine, you couldn’t think of what else it might be, but it wasn’t a big deal to you. Not much was a big deal now that you were safe. 

The mission had been rough. It wasn't supposed to be. Part of it was your fault but most of it was the guy's macho attitudes. You’d tried to convince them that confrontation was a stupid idea, you were there to collect intel not to start a fight, but they hadn’t listened. Even worse was while they weren’t listening to you they were also arguing with each other about the best approach. 

A big part of why you didn’t want to engage came from how you were feeling. You’d picked up a bug in New York, something you thought would pass in time, but it didn't. Of course, it didn’t. You had tried to shake it, getting extra sleep, drinking a ton of orange juice, and you’d even broken down and taken cold medicine.

The medicine had worked well enough and since it was supposed to be an easy mission you had decided to go after promising Natasha and Wanda that you would be safe. They still had been reluctant to let you go but they also knew that there was nothing they could do to change your mind. 

“Idiots, both of them,” Wanda growled stomping into the room. Her eyes were flickering red in frustration. Her anger visibly dissipated when she returned to your side and rested a hand on your shoulder, shaking her head slightly. Your wrist was in a plaster cast and you had a bandage on your leg to cover the graze of a bullet. Considering how bad it had gotten you were lucky to have only come out with that much. 

“Mhm. Men are stupid.” You agreed, tilting your head to rest on her hand. She laughed quietly and kissed your forehead, holding you close for a few seconds. Every time you went on a mission you missed your girlfriends so much, it was nice to be near them even if it meant you were stuck in the MedBay. 

“When’s Nat comin’ back?” You asked, pulling back to look into her now brown eyes. The door creaked open and you glanced over, smiling when you saw the other woman walk into the room. 

“Somebody talking about me?” She came to your other side and gave you a big hug, being careful not to jostle you. She’d seen the bruises when you came in and it had broken her heart. There were so many times that she wished you and Wanda weren’t Avengers, she wanted so badly to keep you both safe but it seemed that would never be possible. 

“I talked to Fury, he says you’re off duty until that arm is healed. Probably going to be six weeks. On the bright side though we can take you back to our room as soon as this IV is done.” She had taken the words right out of your mouth, sometimes it was like she was the mind-reading witch and not Wanda. 

The assassin climbed into the small hospital bed, laying on her side so that you had enough room but she could still hold you. It wasn’t abnormal for Natasha to show extra physical affection after the three of you had been apart for a long time, she was better at showing how she felt rather than telling. Emotions were not her strong suit. 

“How are you feeling love?” Wanda asked, taking a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair that could be found in every hospital room. You reached out for her hand, wanting to be touching both of them. Natasha had her arm wrapped around your waist and nestled her head into your shoulder. 

“M’okay. Sleepy, stuffy.” You sniffled to prove your point further and blinked slowly at Wanda, trying to stay awake. She was pretty. Your girlfriends were so pretty. Natasha was warm, you wished you were in your real bed instead of the hard hospital bed but it was better with them. 

“Yeah, that doesn't surprise me. Close your eyes, we’ll be here when you wake up.” Nat murmured, kissing behind your ear. You nodded and sneezed into your blanket, grumbling slightly. The pain meds were helping but the sudden jerk of the sneeze had hurt. 

“I’m not going on any missions with them ever again.” 

“Agreed.” They said in unison, making you smile. You snuggled into bed, careful not to bump your IV and shut your eyes. You fell asleep to the sound of a heartbeat monitor and your girlfriends talking quietly to each other. You caught a few words before slipping into unconsciousness, most of them about keeping you safe. 

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[take-it-on-the-run]

Imagine: Wearing Baggy Clothes with Dean

Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 900

@ghostlyaccurate requested: Hii! Can i please request an established relationship Dean Winchester x fem! Or gn! Reader who always wear insanely baggy jeans and just some friendly banter like: Reader: *gets in the passenger seat of baby, holding the jeans up a bit like a dress* Dean: Reader: *looks confused at Dean* Dean: you gonna leave some jeans for the clowns in the circus? Reader: oh fuck off Winchester Dean: I'm just saying, you hold them like a princess dress Reader: how the fuck did you get me to fall for you? (Bonus: his reaction when he sees reader in a tight fitting dress/ silk, short ish nightgown, for the first time and he's just like :0)

A/N: Good God why didn't I write this sooner?? I'm a baggy pants girly myself and I was able to write this so easily. Gonna apologize to @ghostlyaccurate because I have been swamped in school work and just remembered my inbox was a thing. Thank you for requesting and giving me inspiration to write! I hope ya'll enjoy my first imagine!!

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

You’d always stuck to baggier styles

It started with comfort, and then you realized that bigger pants lead to bigger pockets

Bigger pockets meant not having to run back to your car to get gear you couldn’t carry

You met Dean while Sam was at Stanford, and before him, you never thought much of your preference

Then, a few months on your ride across the nation to find John, you caught Dean looking at you with creased eyebrows and chuckling

“What?”

Your hands were balled up against your sides, raising the legs of your pants to let you step in the car without tripping

It came out harsher than you intended, but Dean didn’t mention it if he noticed

“You always ball up your jeans like some kinda princess whenever you get in the car. Might have to start callin’ you ‘princess’.”

You shot him a glare that you now know rivals one of his brother’s

Without you rebutting him, he poked at you again

“Gonna leave some jean for the rest of us? Might have to call Canada to warn them.”

You smacked him playfully, lips breaking into a smile

“Fuck off, man, do you know how much it sucks when you don’t have pockets for anything?”

Dean poorly blocked your hand, looking over at you silently as he revved the car

You relaxed into your seat at his silence

“Exactly.”

Looking back, you had no idea how you managed to fall for him

Then again, you felt similarly to his feelings for you

After the two of you found Sam, and then shortly after found, and lost, John, it was a quick spiral into solving whatever case the three of you could get your hands on

One of which included finding and destroying a hand of glory alongside your friend-not-quite-friend Bela Talbot

When Dean told you about the plan the first time, you weren’t thrilled that he said he needed you to work all together

You were even less thrilled when he unveiled that the hand was kept by some rich guy

Who was hosting a fancy ball

And that you still needed to come in

You didn’t mind formal events, occasionally enjoying getting dressed up made you feel good

But with Ms. Big Ben on your team ushering you to a room to get ready, you remembered the last time you were done up like this was at your senior prom

Where, if Carrie wasn’t already the prom scream queen, you’d have taken the crown

You went with some friends, but your parents only let you go if you brought some protection with you, and not the rubber kind

Growing up a hunter was tough enough for you, and you wanted to feel normal for just one night

So you left your gear in a bush outside the venue

Dumb idea

That night ended in a vampire’s head soaking you in blood, your poor date knocked to the ground, looking at you with horror

He skipped on the details but shared the part where you were covered in blood

You left school before the year ended and were able to get your diploma from home

Now, looking at yourself covered in more makeup than you normally wear and fabric clinging to parts of your body you were sure people forgot existed, you prayed the night didn’t repeat itself

At least this time your date would be impressed if you decapitated a monster

You willed yourself out of the room, following Bela down the stairs where Sam and Dean stood waiting in tuxes

Dean’s eyes scanned every dip and curve of your body, and you wanted to stick your finger in an electrical socket

Bela left for the car, Sam close behind, leaving Dean to stare at you alone

You waited for him to say something, a remark about looking done up for once, but he didn’t

Instead, his tongue darted onto his lips, leaving them parted as you stood still

Was he… gawking?

He’d told you that you were pretty countless of times, but this moment felt like something completely different

“You look… amazing.”

Before you could fathom to accept his complement, you let a wise crack out

“You’re saying I don’t normally?”

He laughed, shaking his head

“Never said that, sweetheart.”

Smart man

It was a small pause in your daily hunts, where you felt normal for a moment

When you were eventually covered in blood, dirt, and grime by the end of the job, Dean stood beside you in a similar state

He looked at you, eyes still holding the mystified look he gave when you first came down the stairs

No horror or disgust

And, the next day when you returned to your regular clothes, you noticed the way he looked at you held an awe-struck sense

Then again, you thought back to all the time you’d known him. Back in the car, when he was giving you shit, he looked at you with awe

If only you’d been able to see it earlier

[gil-galadhwen]

Elrond X Reader (gender neutral)

After seeing a stunning floppy haired, battle midst Elrond in the new Rings of Power teaser trailer, I got inspired to respond to an ancient request in my inbox which has since myseriously disppeared?!

Anyway, the prompt was Tell Me What You Want from this list

Summary & Warnings: Elrond returns from the battle haunted and desperate to tell you how he feels about you… (closed door spice)

Word Count: 900+

Tell Me What You Want

Elrond and the others returned to camp in the dead of night. You weren't asleep of course. It was impossible when not only did the fate of your kind hang in the balance, but the fate of your greatest love did too. 

Elrond didn't know how you feel about him. You'd kept the desires of your heart hidden for years, holding it close as you watched him ready for a battle he may not return from.

Except he had returned.

You peer through the gap in your tent as the warriors are celebrated in their triumphant homecoming. Their smiles are bright and gleaming against their filthy armour. You scour the crowd in the dim firelight until you see him standing off to the side with his helmet tucked under his arm. His hair has grown longer over the many months, dark curls falling into eyes both familiar and haunted by something you don't recognise. 

Elrond smiles at every well wisher who passes him. Shaking hands, embracing and gripping the steel shoulders plates of his comrades until they crunched. You want to go to him, but you're somehow locked in place. Even as his eyes dart around the camp as though looking for something, for someone.

Looking for you.

You chide yourself for thinking such ridiculous thoughts. He's not looking for you at all. Why would he? You're barely acquaintances, nevermind friends. You’d certainly collaborated on projects for the king in the past and often sat together during formal dinners and gatherings. Even sharing a bed once when travelling back to Lindon after completing a quest for the king. You’d stopped at an inn that only had one bed, yet Elrond was ever the gentleman, ensuring you were comfortable with him there and never giving you more than a friendly glance. 

Except for the night he left for battle. 

As the soldiers prepared to leave, he’d sought you out and then wordlessly lifted your hand to his lips, pressing them to your knuckles. You’d been too surprised to speak as he held you there, suspended in a moment you thought would never come. Perhaps it was his way of saying goodbye, yet you watch him now, with a flicker of hope igniting in your chest that it had meant so much more.

***

The fires are banked and the once loud cheers and cajoling have quietened to a murmur as you finally emerge from your tent. The scent of burning cedar and honey mead lingers in the air as you meander through the thinning crowd of elves squeezing as much out of the festivities as possible before the sun rose on a new day, bringing with it new challenges, as is the nature of war. 

As a Scribe to King Gil-galad, you're free to move anywhere within the camp. You feel a strange mix of peace and anticipation when you reach the row of tents reserved for the king's most revered soldiers, but it occurs to you that you have no idea which is Elrond's. Then suddenly he’s there, standing in front of you with an expression of such pure relief on his face that your eyes start to sting.

“You are well, my lord?” you ask, cringing at how formal you sound.

“As well as can be.” Elrond smiles weakly in return. “And you?”

He sounds different. As though the usually reassuring tone of his voice has been stripped away, leaving behind a weariness you find almost overwhelming to witness. He takes a step towards you and you reach for him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as his own wind firmly around you, holding you close. You feel his lips press to the exposed skin of your shoulder where your robe has slipped down. You hear the words he whispers into your skin like a litany… 

I missed you. I missed you. I missed you…Meleth nîn…

My love.

You pull back to look at him. He’s removed his armour and bathed, his wavy hair still damp and mussed.

“I missed you too,” you say, taking his hand in your own. “Which tent is yours?”

***

As soon as the flaps close on Elrond’s private tent, you come together as though magnetised. The kisses are hotter than the flames of the campfires. They burn deliciously, branding your skin so that they feel permanent. Like invisible tattoos. 

You fall together onto the low bed and you release a giggle when you find yourself straddling Elrond, but then you stop when you see the way he’s looking at you. Has he always looked at you this way, you wonder. It’s everything you've ever wanted, but what of him? He’s always been so sweet and polite.

And alone.

Has he wanted you all this time, like you’ve wanted him?

“Tell me what you want,” you say, breathless and willing. “I’ll give you anything.”

Elrond’s eyes glitter as he slowly tugs on the tie holding your robe closed.  The fabric pools around your waist and you feel your skin warm at the exposure. At the vulnerability of being like this in front of him.

“I want you just like this,” he says. Tilting his hips so that you feel him beneath you, hard and wanting. 

“I want us to join and then never be parted–” the words become caught in a net of emotion and he looks away.

Tears begin to well as you bring your hand to Elrond’s cheek in a caress. You do not speak again, but an understanding passes between you as you give the revered soldier everything he wants.

You like this.

[cozage]

CONGRATS ON 2K!!!!

For the request idk what I want really but I don't wanna miss out 😭

But as a dedicated Luffy simp could I get some sort of soft smut? It's fine if not but I saw your post saying something about wanting to do more of those <3

A/N: I had a very similar request for Sanji so were just going to do the monster trio for this one 🙂

Characters: reader x Luffy, Sanji, Zoro Cw: NSFW Minors pls skedaddle, orgasms, the usual sex stuff I don't think they’re too freaky Total word count: 900

Unspoken Words Finally Said

Luffy

You and Luffy had been friends from the moment you met him. At first, you thought there might be something more between the two of you. 

But he was your captain. And Luffy was…Luffy. He was just overly friendly with everyone. 

The celebration from Dressrosa had everyone in good spirits, and the alcohol had Luffy a little more clingy than usual. But you found yourself leaning into his touch. 

And when it was just the two of you still awake, you found yourself leaning into his lips. 

It was a shocking revelation for both of you, and you found yourself smiling in relief when he pushed his lips back against you. 

“My room,” he mumbled into your mouth. He wrapped his arms around you and picked you up, carrying you across the deck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

And he had no idea how long you had waited for this, either. Every stolen glance, every little smile, every brushing touch; it hadn’t been your imagination. 

He proved his love and devotion the only way he knew how: through his actions. The way his hands gently caressed your body, how eager he was to finally be inside you. 

He moaned out your praises, how good you felt, how pretty your moans were, and he did not give you a moment's rest until he collapsed next to you on the bed, both of you well spent. 

And as you curled into him and fell asleep, you couldn’t help but be thankful for every moment that finally led you to this. 

Sanji

Sanji was a flirt. His sweet comments and adoration weren’t exclusive to you. You knew that. 

You were a flirt too. Your spunky attitude wasn’t something that only the cook got the pleasure in being a part of. He knew that. 

And yet, the two of you went around and around, working hard to catch the other off guard and get one another flustered. 

The first time you had shot back with a flirtatious remark, Sanji had almost died. But he had built up a sort of tolerance to your comments and soft touches, until one night the two of you jokingly offered up a friendly game of strip poker. 

And now here he was, balls deep inside of you as tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. He felt so good inside of you, his long, slender cock hitting all of the right places. 

“Sanji,” you whimpered. “I’m going to-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, a wave of ecstasy washing over you and causing you to moan out in pure pleasure. You could feel yourself clenching around Sanji, so tight that he couldn’t even continue pumping himself inside of you. 

“Marry me,” Sanji babbled. “Oh god, marry me right now.”

His hips jutted, a final push to get himself as far inside you as he could manage, and you could see his eyes roll back in his head as he was brought to the feeling of pure pleasure. 

Now that you had him, you never wanted to let him go. 

Zoro

You hadn’t meant to end up in Zoro’s room. Or in his bed. And you certainly hadn’t meant to end up face down, moaning into his pillow as he slammed himself inside of you. 

“Zoro-” your moans were cut off as his hand pushed your head back into the pillow, trying to get the arc of your back just right as he slammed his cock inside of you. 

“Shhh,” he hissed. “Someone is going to hear you.”

But his speed and vigor picked up, and you smiled to yourself knowing that he liked the idea of getting caught. He always liked to live on the edge. 

After both of you finished, Zoro collapsed on top of you, trapping you underneath him. You managed to turn over so you wouldn’t suffocate into the pillow, but Zoro laid firmly on top of you, his head resting on your chest. Soft snores told you that you wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Spending the night here wouldn’t be so bad, even if it might lead to questions later from the crew. You ran your fingers through his mossy green hair and slowly drifted off to sleep. 

You and Zoro had been friends ever since you joined the crew. He was comfortable in his sexuality, and so were you, which led to a lot of fun conversations. But you had never expected this impromptu one-night stand to happen with him. It had all just been casual conversation…even if you had been a little curious. 

In the morning, you carefully tried to get out of bed without waking him, but you failed miserably. He stirred the moment you moved and raised his head, groggily looking around. And then he froze when he realized you were underneath him. 

“So that really happened last night, huh?” He gave a little smirk. “I thought it was a dream.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Do you dream about me, mosshead?”

He usually hated it when you called him by Sanji’s nickname, but today he only hummed in delight. “Maybe sometimes. The real thing was way better than any dream, though.”

[gayandfairycore]

The prince, the magician and the physician

Summary when the witchfinder accuses you of having magic you must convince Arthur that your feelings for the boy have never been disingenuous. And Merlin must race against the clock to save you but can you be saved? Can your relationship with Arthur? Can love truly conquer Arthur’s prejudice?

Italics mean flashbacks

Word count: about 8k

Warning: torture, mention of execution, feeling betrayed, readers anxious, reader accepts death, canon divergence (but same overarching plot), Arthur may be a bit ooc sorry!

A/n: who’s back with the bbc Merlin fics? Me!!!!!!! Two fics in *almost* the same month-WHO is she? But seriously I’ve been writing more and I’m so glad I have I really enjoy writing these fics for you guys and to everyone who has supported me thank you so much!! We hit 900 followers a few weeks ago and it was such a milestone thank you all for enjoying my fics enough to follow!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The witch finders arrival had you and Merlin in shambles he had already been pointing fingers and he had been in Camelot for nearly a day and already had been accusing people of having magic.

What was worse, he had witnesses. Three girls from the lower town who had been seeing traces of magic a man coughing up a frog from his throat, to a goblin dancing in the flames of a dying fire. To faces of the drowned in the well. with every confession you sent an angry glare to Merlin beside you, since he was the reason this witch finder had been called in the first place.

Fear bubbled in your throat when the witchfinder said he already had suspects. and who the witchfinder had accused happened to be yourself, Merlin, and the lady morgana.

It was day three when he found “proof” you were a witch. (Of course you were but the proof was bogus. It wasn’t yours.)

It wasn’t Merlin’s either, it was an amulet poorly hidden in a pot. Neither yourself nor Merlin were skilled with charming jewellery, and you couldnt wear bracelets whilst being the court physicians apprentice, besides when would you even have the time to charm jewellery? Between saving Arthur, being gauis’s apprentice, and watching over Merlin you never had a second to breathe.

But despite having never seen the amulet in your life you knew the witchfinder would see no sense. Men like that never would, and what was worse the witchfinder happened to be an old friend of gauis, with a reputation based on brutality and hatred. He despised magic with a passion if he suspected you, you were already as good as dead.

But you couldn’t let Merlin die by the hands of the witchfinder, Merlin had far too much life ahead of him.

He had to protect Arthur. He had to unite Albion. he had to live long enough to see Arthur’s rule And believe me There was nothing you wanted more than to see Arthur unite Albion and bring magic to the land But you weren’t the one destined to unite Albion, you were however destined to protect those you loved and some part of you was okay with dying for the cause of keeping your family safe.

and if you were asked if you regretted taking the fall for Merlin or gauis, of course you’d say no. He was your best friend and gauis was like a grandfather to you. You’d let them sentence you to death a thousand times over if it meant Merlin was safe. If gauis was safe.

“Search through that cupboard and under the bed!” The witch finders commanding voice called out to the guards as they tore apart gauis’s chambers you were aware by now that the moment he walked in he’d already deemed you guilty.

By the way His eyes narrowed like a predator to prey, the atmosphere was tense like he’d been preparing to go for the kill for awhile now. and disgust permeated from his figure in waves this man watched you like you were the dirt on his shoe, some small disgusting insect that deserved to die if he even thought you had magic.

Sharing a nervous glance at gauis your hands wringing nervously in your lap as you watched these knights destroy your home your gaze asked gauis the same question he’d been dreading, where was Merlin’s spell book?

If you were going to go down for magic paraphernalia you fully thought it would be because of Merlin’s spell book not some poorly disguised amulet that wasn’t yours in the first place.

Leon had been the one to find the amulet a haunted look in his eyes you could tell Leon did not want to do this, but honour bounded the knights more than kinship. More than years spent with each other from childhood sparring, to treating his wounds when Leon grew from a bashful baby faced boy into a lean young man practicing to become a knight.

He was honour bound to tell this monster what he found And you’d hate to see Leon burned beside you under the guise of solidarity. It was better for one to burn than two.

“An. enchanted. amulet.” The witchfinder spoke slowly as he inspected the Jewlery, every word sealing your fate “whose is this? Perhaps the boy Merlin Or the girls? Or even yours, old friend.” The witch finder sneered pointing his finger in your face as he circled gauis and yourself like you were prey

Your horror filled eyes flickered to gauis and you watched as his mouth opened and his eyes flashed with familiar selflessness it was clear, what the old man was going to do, he loved his little family as much as you did and you’d hate to see the old man take the blame for you or Merlin again.

living with gauis has already been enough of a burden you couldn’t let him die for something he had no part in (not that you did either but you were nothing if not loyal.) your heart constricted in your chest, your stomach dropping

One of you would surely be executed for this but you would not let it be Merlin, or gauis. It would be you before it ever was them.

Taking a shaky breath you stepped forward your hand out to block gauis front from stopping you “it’s mine.”

And the beat of your heart deafened you the room went deadly silent guards hands went to their swords ready for anything, in the corner of your eye gauis’s face went ghostly pale filled with horror as he watched his youngest apprentice, the girl he practically raised as if his own stare down this false god with cold eyes the sent fear shooting through gauis, you were capable you like Merlin had the ability to destroy your enemies without lifting a finger but gauis knew you better than for you to defend yourself. But you would be brave braver than anyone else.

You steeled yourself infront of the witchfinder your eyes narrowed dangerously. You did not take kindly to those attempting to ruin your family.

“Guards.” With one word the witch finder sealed your fate, looking to gauis behind you, your eyes only let your guard slip for a moment and the old man saw the burning fear that filled your gaze. As Leon’s hands restrained you with hesitation.

“you can’t!” Gauis called pointedly to the witchfinder “it’s not hers! she doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Gauis pleaded desperately after you seething from where he stood, he would not watch another child die.

you felt your heart break for the man who was like your father. “Leon, please.” You pleaded to Leon to release your hands for just a moment and the man you’ve known since childhood released his grip for only a second it was enough for you to break his hold and sprint to take gauis in a hug

Crashing into his arms you closed your eyes blinking away tears And you muttered the one phrase that could save you, that could reverse this fatal mistake, the one thing that stopped the panic in gauis for only a moment “It’s not mine.”

Before Leon’s hands had pulled you from gauis’s comforting arms, your tearful eyes met gauis and you expected to be met with fear but a newfound determination in gauis’s face calmed you, hope filled your heart Merlin would find a way to save you he always did.

Leon bent your hands behind your back and lead you down the halls of the castle

The witchfinder leading you through the halls, your Druid communication had been the most useful in situations like this, situations where Merlin was nowhere to be found

“Merlin, if you can hear this please find a way to get me out of this. The witchfinder has accused us of using magic be careful. Help me Merlin, Please find Arthur.” You didn’t get a response despite the fact You had never begged and you never had sounded quite as hopeless as you did then, even when you were behind enemy lines, in enemy dungeons it was different.

They weren’t your friends, weren’t your family sentencing you to die this was.

As you were dragged through the halls Camelot knights walked all around you, their billowing red capes with the golden dragon crest that once brought you so much comfort now brought only dread, the burning memory being wrapped up in Arthur’s cape on a hunting trip once dearly reminisced now just felt cruel.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The braying of horses and the taps of hooves on the ground as you, the knights, Arthur and Merlin set off on a hunt you found it silly to be hunting for game for fun but you couldn’t refuse the invite considering you were arthurs personal physician recommended by gauis (and Merlin babysitter) and atleast you were with your closest friends who are the loyalist of loyal.

As opposed to being stuck in gauis’s chambers mulling over books like you do almost daily you’d take any possible time with Arthur especially away from prying eyes.

The sun was starting to go down and you were too far away from Camelot to head home so Arthur called it and you’d be camping in the woods tonight, you didn’t mind. It was nice to camp under the stars with your friends away from all the expectations, The watchful eyes. Camelot was home but it was growing increasingly more dangerous.

Here, in the forest with Arthur and Merlin and the knights you were more than just a physician you were equal. You were more then just lower class, you were free and here under the constant cover of trees and the darkening blanket of the setting sun you could be more than some backup physician, you were just y/n. And Prince Arthur was just Arthur.

And if you could have just cupped this moment in your hands and held it tightly to your chest you would have.

Camped by a large oak tree in Arthur’s arms his red cape with the golden pendragon sigil covered your body from the elements keeping you safe and warm and in the light of the fire there was no fear, no worry about expectations. Or watching eyes all that mattered was being truly yourself with the man you love in his arms unashamed.

When sleep finally stole you away from Arthur Merlin couldn’t stop the question that was brewing for months “do you love her?” The young man asked scouring the ground with a stick his arms rested on his knees as he watched the couple together Merlin knew this would turn out badly his best friend, a physician with no title dating the crowned prince of Camelot? A recipe for disaster

He knew what his destiny foretold, he knew the perils and he knew that your role in destiny would surely not let this freedom, this unabashed love stay happy. There could be no room for happiness when you had magic.

“Of course I love her.” The prince found himself telling Merlin hesitation in his voice fear rolling from him in waves, by now it was the late hours of the night, the knights and yourself long since asleep and Merlin and Arthur the only ones still awake

“You know your father would never approve?” Merlin spoke assured that if uther found out you’d most likely be executed

“I know that Merlin, but one day it will be different my father will have no say and I will be king when I am king I want her- to be my queen.” Arthur’s fingers run through your hair softly a promise Arthur swore to himself he would keep his arms wrapping tightly around your waist the soft sound of your breathing calming Arthur’s pounding heart he knew this was reckless and senseless but this was love. And love has no logic.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Now a bitter taste of betrayal sat heavily on your shoulders as you were flanked by those you call friends as they lead you to your death you couldn’t blame them it’s not their fault they have to follow uther but it leaves a horrible taste in your mouth

How things had changed.

It was sad to feel Leon’s grip firm but not brutish still trying not to hurt you as if he wasn’t leading you to what would be your death. You were aware from the moment Arthur managed to steal your heart you’d end up on the gallows or burnt at the stake or you’d face death in battle intentionally scheduled by uther. He hated anyone who was not of noble blood for Arthur.

And No good ever came from destiny, and if it was your destiny to die in place of your loved ones you’d die a valiant death. But it didn’t stop the shake in your hands.

You could mask your fear you would not give the witchfinder what he wants. He would not break you.

But leon could feel the shake in your hand and feel the erratic beat of your heart from the pulse point on your wrist and he wanted nothing more than to damn the consequences and save you but he couldn’t. you could only rely on Merlin to prove the witchfinder a fraud and you to be innocent you could only pray for Arthur’s forgiveness. After your innocence is proven.

But the horrible feeling of dread that was building in your stomach as they were leading you into the dungeons a cell- no doubt already made up- And down every step you felt like throwing up when you finally made it to the bottom of the stair case the scent of wet earth and straw filled your nose the bricks that lined the dungeon and its torches that burned steadily along the side of the stairs made you feel ill.

The witch finder swung open the first vacant cell and Leon was forced to keep you there walking you the the center of the room, the suns rays that slipped through the cracks of the small window warmed your face but it didn’t comfort you, soon the sun would be your clock, your tally mark for your final night alive if Merlin failed.

Leon’s hands left yours and still the ache in your shoulders stayed “I’m sorry” he spoke lowly in your ear before he stepped away you turned to finally face your friend

“Leon, let Arthur know I’m sorry” You called to the man who grew up beside you who had been growing up pledging to die for Camelot even if that meant dying young he never expected the young girl with so much light in her eyes, and gentleness that always managed to calm her patients, he never thought she’d be the one on deaths door before him.

Before the man could reply the witch finger slammed the cell door shut and sneered through the bars “not to worry he’ll find out soon enough.”

Your heart constricted in your chest as you watched them all walk away the iron in the Camelot dungeons nullifying your powers and your connection with Merlin you couldn’t hear his reply to your plea you were well and truly alone you could of course break out from the cells the iron didn’t make you powerless only dulling your connection with the earth, the place your power comes from. But you couldn’t put your friends at risk.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was hours later when guards came to haul you away to your sentencing, heavy iron handcuffs clicked into place over your hands large chains weighing you down & tight enough to make the skin on your wrists rub painfully.

As Guards lead you through the castle to the throne room, there you stood at the large mahogany double doors two guards on either side as they flung the doors open all your friends and family, all your previous patients were standing there watching as the witchfinder lead you in as the number one suspect, the guilty witch. two guards gripped your arms and threw you to the ground in front of the king, a man who you’ve spent countless hours mending, and stitching up alongside gauis.

Your hands shook as your knees took the brunt of the force, your chains rattling from where you were you couldn’t see Merlin, or gauis. But You could feel Merlin’s energy over the crowd

“I’m going to get you out of this y/n, I swear.” Merlin promises to you through your Druid telepathy and you bit back the tears as You scowled at the sight of the ground. you couldn’t bare look up at the sight of morgana in front of you, of Arthur infront of you fear that you’ll see nothing but disgust, embarrassment and regret on his face.

“Here is the first witch I’ve uncovered in my short time here in Camelot. The court physicians apprentice. The princes! Physician!” Every word the witch finder spoke booms over the crowd as he exclaims to the counsel shock no doubt painted their faces you’ve treated every single person in this room and you’ve used magic on quite a few to save them. Why was that a bad thing? If you have the power to save someone was that not the right thing to do? Magic is not bad but people are.

“WHO can imagine what she could have used on the prince unsupervised! What magic she could have used and at what cost to the prince!” By the gasps of those standing around the room the witchfinders words seemed to make them angry, seemed to make the king angry he loved Arthur in his own way so for the witchfinder to use Arthur to sentence you, god. You were surely going to die.

“No.” Arthur’s words were quiet this was the first time he had said anything “y/n a witch? I mean come on we’d know! She’s lived in Camelot since she was five. And she wouldn’t harm a fly!” Arthur called like it was laughable resting his hand on his hip like it was obvious but by the look in his eye the look of realisation but you couldn’t find disgust you didn’t have time to search for it.

But It made you turn your gaze to the floor Arthur knows. he knows. you have magic. You’ve healed him countless times. no stab wound, or arrow wound could be healed as quickly as his has or all the time he’s been injured in battle only moments before, before the searing pain has been replaced with a dull ache. Or the times as a child where any scrape or scuffed knee had been eased by a soft kiss over the wound. The look of betrayal passing over his face when you gained the courage to finally look at him made you shrink into yourself

“That’s exactly what someone under her spell would say. I fear, uther that the prince is too close to her to see clearly.” The witchfinder spoke with a voice like acid and you couldn’t stand making yourself small if he was going to do you for magic you would not be ashamed. You would not hide from his gaze.

Your chained hands pushed you from your slumped position on the ground your hair messily falling over your face you stood on shaky legs looking at the people in the throne room, all your friends watching you with pity filled faces you couldn’t stand it.

It made you feel sick, especially the fearful teary eyed look from morgana like she was seeing her future you hated this.

Uthers response felt like it took years, “y/n l/n I sentence you to death.” The room fell eerily silent before a scream filled your head, it was Merlin you whirled around to spot him in the crowd tears in his eyes and anger flashing across his face you wouldn’t be surprised if the next attempt on uthers life would be from Merlin.

“No! Father you can’t. What evidence do you have?!” Arthur pleaded with his father quietly by his throne anger glaring in arthurs eyes pointed not at you, it gave you hope that he didn’t hate you enough to want you dead.

“My word is final.” The king sneered and your hope filled heart broke. Swallowing hard your eyes searched for Merlin the fear in your eyes hit him hard as he watched

you be carted out of the court room your eyes locking with Merlin’s anger and tears filled his eyes before your eyes swept to Arthur’s & the sheen of betrayal sat heavy in his eyes and before you could stop yourself you called out for him one last time. As the guards dragged you to the doors.

“Arthur!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The cells in camelots dungeons were always your most hated place to be from the horrid stench to the chill that cooled your bones to the straw that littered the floor In wet mangled clumps. To the extent it weakened your connection to your magic. Your magic was your strength the very essence of you to have it be weakened by the iron felt wrong.

The dungeons were perhaps the scariest place in Camelot there you’d sit, forced to rot as they’re building a funeral pyre for you and your execution is due in a day.

But you’d been there for now two days, and Day by day you were becoming more and more sure that this was the one situation Merlin could not save you from.

by the betrayed look on Arthur’s face when you were lead through the large doors infront of the entire court for your sentencing and the cold look in uthers eyes you were a dead woman walking.

And maybe you deserved it by the look on Arthur’s face as the pieces fell into place and he realised all the times his wounds eased that were not with the help of adrenaline, but magic. it made you wonder did he believe you had enchanted him? Bewitched him to love you? It pained you greatly to even think that Arthur may be in his chambers rethinking every kiss you’ve shared with one another. Would your love ever truly be enough for him to forgive you for magic? Of course he didn’t like magic that was to be expected but he liked you. At least you thought he liked you…

And He liked Merlin, he’d shown countless times indifference to magic, magic that had saved his life countless times, and still the look of betrayal in his eyes made you wonder Were all your secret picnics and stolen kisses in corridors just something to occupy him?

Were you nothing more than Arthur’s dirty little secret, a silly little romance that would have only ended in tragedy?

was it all for nothing?

Were you nothing to him?

No you were not nothing. You were everything you were his in private. the only place he didn’t have to perform. He didn’t have to agree with his father’s actions he could just be Arthur pendragon not the prince.

besides It’s better to have loved Arthur and to die for it than to have never had him at all. You may never be his queen but you were for a fleeting moment, for a fleeting moment you were his and he was yours.

And now you would burn because you loved your family too much to watch them die, you half wondered as you sat in that cell if uther knew.

If he had known you and Arthur were courting in secret and if he called the witchfinder to get rid of more than one the little scandal waiting to happen and you wouldn’t put it past uther to condemn you to death so long as Arthur is still under his control.

The longer you sat in your cell the more you stewed, a slue of emotions crashing over you, from sadness to anger, to acceptance.

You would accept the fate of burning for your loved ones but you would not accept the fate of losing Arthur. Not like this.

You would not be separated by death, if Arthur didn’t want you after knowing the truth you would live with it, but you would not live with not knowing.

Your love for the boy had been too strong you were going to marry Arthur in the future, it wasn’t to far away having a family with the prince, having a life.

That could have been your future. If you were not awaiting execution.

You sat there in drenching sadness that crashed like waves, what was worse was the sound of key’s jiggling. Did you misjudge the days? Was this going to be the end? already?

“You and me are going to have a little talk.” The witch finder sneered unlocking your cell and looking down at you with hatred still you didn’t gaze in his eyes. You watched the floor with intensity as he hauled you off to a different cell leading you through the halls past the staircase you caught sight of a shaky morgana your eyes found hers and suddenly you felt a lot more scared than before.

In the cell there was a chair and a table and a small cart of various medical and surgical weapons ‘oh shit’ your mind screamed as the witch finder forced you to the chair “So we can do this two ways. It’s up to you confess why you’re in Camelot and who else has magic. and maybe I’ll let you live. Don’t tell me and I’ll find out myself.” The cruelty in his tone made you rear back subconsciously eyes narrowing at the witchfinders gaze

“Then” you sighed shakily looking at him through your lashes coldly“you’re going to have to find out yourself.” You summoned every inch of anger and willed it in your tone. Trying to be brave despite the frantic beats of your heart.

But It was hours spent in that damp Camelot cell hidden from the other prisoners clamped to a chair and the witch finder inches from your face and array of striking weapons on a small cart made your breathing hitch.

But you’ve had worse, you’ve had to fight wilderin in hengists kingdom for sport. Both yourself and Gwen had been kidnapped under the guise of being morgana and her physician and so yourself and Gwen were forced to masquerade as morgana and yourself and you were stuck in different cells both damp and smelling of blood and wet earth.

And then there was Lancelot who happened to be hengists champion, and a champion who only days later you’d be thrown into the pit with a wilderin with no weapons with a tied up Gwen and Lancelot. Both yourself and Lancelot had stayed behind to give Gwen time to escape and ultimately were the first to be thrown in the cage again you didn’t mind as long as Gwen escaped you’d be fine.

But Truth be told the odds were very against you, but magic was always going to save you, but using it would doom you especially in front of everyone in hengists court. With the use of magic and a bloodied broken bone from the wilderins last meal made for a convenient way to murder the beast. Until another one came and Merlin and Arthur had saved you just in time From its hideous rat jaws the huge bleeding scar of its teeth in your arm made you detest the stench of blood and earth.

That was probably the worst experience of your life until now. And the scar from the wilderins teeth was still healing but the physical scars meant nothing the torture of being in a cell that smells the same as this dungeon was the worst that and the feeling of knowing your life is going to end were probably the most humbling experiences.

But, the only saving grace was that night in camp where Arthur had taken it upon himself to patch up your wilderin wound (poorly might you add as a physician it was odd to let the only man with very little experience patching someone up, patch you up.)

But you let him anyway and Arthur’s hands held your arm with feather light touches the needle threaded through your flesh with clumsy fingers the stiching off centre and rough around the edges but it was Arthur’s way of telling you he cared, the silk thread slid easily through your flesh but it pained you every stitch Arthur was no physician but he was trying.

“I’m glad you’re okay. And Gwen told me when they questioned you about any secrets of Camelot you never cracked.”

“never Camelot is my home.” You smiled at the prince but your attempt at reassurance failed miserably and he ducked his head

“I wish you, cracked. Then they wouldn’t have given you that.” Arthur pointed to the growing black eye rapidly swelling over your left eye a bruise you got for refusing to rat out any information on when guards were on duty, the way to the Camelot armory or anything you overheard as a physician from any loose lipped clients.

“I am not weak Arthur. I can deal with a black eye and brutish men. I’ve been sparring with you and the knights for years” Your eyes pointed angrily at the boy crossing your arms over your chest despite the half finished stitching feeling the half sewn wound twist painful as you did so but you hid the pain to appear strong something you’ve done since you were young

“I never said that! But you- you aren’t weak. I can’t stand seeing you in pain.” Arthur’s blue eyes bore into yours with such an intensity his eyes flashing from your lips to your eyes his hand cupping your jaw as he pressed his lips softly against yours shock prevented you from kissing back as the blonde went to pull away you chased his lips kissing him back with feverish passion.

“I love you Arthur.” You rested your head against his the exhaustion of the day catching up to you he didn’t say it back but you didn’t care he just had to know.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The memory of Arthur made you feel loved it kept you strong, hit after hit, once against your ribs twice against your face, four times against your legs and once more against your face with enough force to split your lip licking the blood that dripped from your lip your bruised body heaved in pain and still you never cracked.

“Come on miss l/n, just tell me two little names and all this can stop”

“You’re deluded.” You sneered before spitting a wad of blood into the witchfinders face smiling gleefully when your blood tinged spit stained his face but the glee was short lived when the man had sent a quick hit to your chest stealing the air from your lungs.

Before he grabbed a tool with a screw and roughly pulled your thumb into it “you will tell me miss y/n what your intentions are with the prince and with Camelot or I will force it out of you.”

The witchfinder shredded his coat as he leaned over you tightening the screw into your thumb the pressure of the screw against your finger had you squirming in your seat as he tightened the contraption more and more

“All you need to do is confess your accomplices. And this will stop.” His voice echoed the room but the feeling of a sharp screw drilling into your finger tighter and tighter puncturing the nail and skin the pain otherworldly and unbearable you tried to hold your scream back but when the man still did not relent and instead tightened the thumb screw you let out your blood curdling scream.

“WHO! Are! Your! Accomplices!” His voice yelled now as he tightened more and more gut wrenching screams ripped from your throat you would let yourself scream, let yourself cry but you would not tell him a thing.

The crushing feeling of your thumb bones breaking made your heart beat incredibly fast your other ironed hand gripped the table with force your nails digging into the wood

He still tightened the screw and by the loud haunting screams that ripped from you and the smile on the witchfinders face he enjoyed your pain you couldn’t help the salty tears and horrible screams the pain unbearable and overcoming your sense but still your mouth locked on any information like a vault.

“Come on!” His voice boomed as his hands squeezed your bicep his eyes crazed as he watched you

“Fuck you!” You screamed eyes red with tears and fighting the approaching darkness in the corner of your vision

“Aredian, sir. The king has called a meeting and requires your presence.” The servant at the cell door had spoken quietly to the witchfinder nervous in his presence

The witchfinder sighed straightening his posture rolled his eyes and moved close to your ear “no matter, miss l/n. The lady morgana, and Merlin will burn with you soon”

Your heart dropped and you struggled against the restraints the excruciating pain from your finger and the rest of your beaten body the pain in your ribs alluded you to the potential broken bones it caused your panicked shouts to echoed through the dungeon and the witchfinders laugh filled the room

“No! Aredian stop.” You cried to his retreating figure “I’ll confess to the use of sorcery if. And only if, you spare Merlin and morgana.” Your eyes close in defeat

“Good choice, miss y/n. take her to her cell.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

And there you were again cut off from anyone and anything unsure if Merlin would be able to prove you innocent, or if he’d burn with you, or if Arthur still even cared the woman he was courting was about to be executed and had just withstood torture. Hengist was bad but he never had broken your bones or tortured you only tried to feed you to wilderin.

The pain in your thumb had dulled but the bleeding hole had still gushed the measly bandage that consider of your dress did barely anything to stop the bleeding and the iron cells mixed with the torture made your magic virtually ineffective making you unable to fully heal your wounds only dulling the pain of your thumb.

your time was running out and you were truly alone in the cells your connection to Merlin via your druid telepathy was proving useless he wouldn’t respond you couldn’t warn him of the witch finder and by the shine of the moon in your cell you only had hours left.

There is already a funeral pyre with your name on it in the court yard. You couldn’t help the tears that slipped down your cheeks you didn’t want to die not like this and a prison break wasn’t even on your mind they’d just kill Merlin and gaius in your absence there was no way out. and the crushing guilt of something you cannot change began to pound against your skull. Were you born wrong?

Was it wrong to have this magic? This power that has saved those you’ve loved for years why was it seen as inherently evil? Why were you seen as inherently evil? All you wanted was your friends to be safe.

And between the pain that debilitated you from the physical blows to the broken bones in your thumb and the emotional pain of Arthur most likely hating you made you want to just give up.

You pulled your knees to your chest as you cried the stupid scent of blood, earth, and straw polluted your nose. And you found yourself thinking about how lucky Gwen had been to have Lancelot visit her cell in hengists kingdom determined to break her and by extension yourself out.

You had Merlin in your court but you still wished you had someone to hold your hand through the vent even if it was the last thing you’d ever do you didn’t want to die alone.

“Y/n” you heard whispered from the doors of your cell “Arthur?” You called confusion lacing your voice as your red rimmed eyes met Arthur’s and you couldn’t help but run to the cell door resting your head on the bars sobbing in relief at the sight of him the pain from your body put on the back burner for a moment.

“What happened?” Guilt filled Arthur’s heart at the sight of you, your eye healing from your previous beating and now the sight of your bloodied broken thumb and bruised body Arthur saw red.

He felt betrayed at the revelation of your magic of course but he understood why you had kept it a secret and if Arthur had been paying more attention he would have seen it plain as day when you were kids.

Your magic was obvious since childhood Arthur was too blind to see it.

“I know” was all he said eyes stoney and voice unwavering “I know you have magic the witch finder is right.”

Any hope that bubbles in your chest died with his words “Arthur I- i can explain” You tried shaking your head lacing your uninjured hand in his through the cell pleased when he didn’t pull away

“Shhh Merlin told me everything, everything you’ve ever done to save me. Save everyone. I understand why you did what you did.” Arthur spoke lowly his eyes staring into yours trying to convey his apology

“Merlin has come up with a plan to save you, he’s doing it right now but I couldn’t go another day without telling you I’m sorry you had to keep this a secret. I can’t stay for long but- but y/n I love you.” Arthur spoke with all the love he could muster placing a chaste kiss on your lips through the cell

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I was afraid of my father I am supposed to be king one day to marry someone of noble blood, but I don’t want that. I want you.” Arthur’s voice is quiet as he confesses he wants to spend the rest of your lives together

“I want nothing more.” You felt like crying he still wanted you, magic and all.

“Arthur, I was so scared.” You felt so exhausted from the torture to the ticking clock you couldn’t help but cry

“Shh” Arthur’s fingers ghosted over the skin of your cheeks wiping your tears. “We will prove your innocence, I’ll keep your secret. I promise you.”

Arthur placed a kiss on your lips once more pressing a necklace with his ring into your hand before promising Merlin has everything under control.

With your heart a bit lighter you finally sat down on the hard cell bed clutching Arthur’s ring in your hand you let sleep overtake your body trusting that Merlin will save you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When the bright light of the sun shines through your cell window today is the day you are supposed to die, and part of your questioned if you dreamt Arthur’s presence to save your sanity but by the slight pressure of his ring on a chain in your hand reassured your beating heart.

You were not dreaming, Arthur loves you and Merlin just spent last night trying to save you but there’s still a ticking time bomb of the noon execution and by the switch shift of the guards it was almost 12

Time was ticking and still there was no sign of Merlin you felt sick like your heart was going to fall out of your stomach

You prayed to whatever god or deity was out there that you would not burn today but by the size of the growing crowd outside the cell window your prayers would go unanswered there was nothing you could do but just sit there in anxiety

The rattling of keys and heavy sound of chainmail made you accept the fact that Merlin would be too late to save you and Arthur would watch you burn

When the knight reached your cell his keys turned the lock and he walked towards you slowly your eyes met the floor the pain in your thumb still debilitating but you held Arthur’s ring in your hands tightly if you were to burn your burn knowing you were loved.

To your surprise when the knight takes you by the wrist silver key in hand as he unlocks your handcuffs

Confusion takes over your face as you watch the knight with intensity “what?” You can’t help but ask rubbing your now freed wrist nervous when he takes your injured hand but this knight grips your hand with gentleness that’s beyond you

“You’re free to go miss” the knight smiles he looked to be a newer knight of Camelot one you didn’t grow up with but he is kind

“Thank you” you nod to the knight as you stumble from your cell gauis is standing at the end of the hallway white as a ghost but pleased to see you freed from your cell

“Y/n!” Gauis smiles opening his arms and you can’t help but fall into them holding onto gauis tightly your sobs wet his shirt shoulder

“Gauis how did you do it? How did you prove me to be innocent?” You cry your hands shaking and body weak from days spent eating little food and dealing with aredians torture.

“It was all Merlin and Arthur.” The old man smiles his arms supporting you as you walk up the stairs from the dungeons to your chambers

“Tell me everything.”you smile at the old man walking side by side down the corridor gauis’s laugh fills the empty hallway

“Not here, let’s get your wounds treated.” His eyes glance at the bruises littering your body, and the bloodied thumb

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You had never been so happy to see your chambers in your life, the comforting smell of herbs and bread the familiar scent of old books and the sound of your boots against the stone floor sounded like music to your ears

There’s no scent of wet earth, or blood aside from the metallic smell emanating from your finger you could almost forget the pain of the cells now that you’re back.

But there’s still very obviously signs of damage done by the witch finders raid broken pots, damaged shelves potions and poisons leaving residue on the floor

But still it is your home. gauis filled a pitcher of water and fills a cup for you and once the water passes your lips you come to realise just how parched you were gulping down glass after glass

gauis busied himself with fixing his work station pulling ointment after ointment and an array of bandages from his kit.

“Sit please” gauis pointed to the table and you sat yourself on the wooden bench gauis had begun to take your makeshift bandage from your wound the gaping hole in your thumb and the blood that spurted from your wound made gauis’s breathing hitch

As he gentle distributed ointment over the wound to fight off growing infections and bandaging up the wound with a fresh bandage Merlin would work on reconstructing your thumb when he gets back

Gauis had felt over your ribs and when he had found another break Merlin would be healing that too for now gauis would sit beside you on the dining room table fresh food would be laid out gauis knew what it was like in the Camelot dungeons and the lack of food

So he didn’t comment on how much you ate when approaching footsteps made your heart beat faster and your eyes flicker to gauis his hand rested on top of yours to reassure you, gauis and Merlin would always reassure you you were safe here you weren’t trapped in the cells of your own home.

When Merlin’s figure found himself in the doorway you could see the relief on his face that you were okay aside from the bruises and bandaged thumb you were alive.

“Oh y/n” Merlin’s soft voice cried and before you knew it you were pushing up off of the table and running into Merlin’s arms

“Hi Merlin” you held him tightly you owed Merlin your life and so being in his hold meant being safe, he would never hurt you.

“God I’m so glad you’re back” his hold tightened and he could feel your magic strong and your connection to eachother he wasn’t cut off from you anymore

“I’m so sorry it took me so long.” Merlin’s guilt ate him alive as he pulled away the black eye and split lip made him see red if he didn’t already kill aredian by accident he would have and he would have made him go through what you did.

Merlin’s eyes flashed yellow and the unbearable ache in your thumb and pulsing pain all over ebbed into nothingness.

You could feel your bones reassembling in your thumb and your broken rib fuse back together the pain and bruises once a bright purple colour would dissipate into a light blue and then would turn into the colour of your skin again.

“Thank you, Merlin.” You squeezed his hand tightly he nodded his head and held you tightly in his arms

Before a smile broke out on his face “do you want to hear how I proved aredian to be a fraud?” Merlin helped you sit beside him and poured another glass of water for you

“Of course!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After Merlin had recounted the entire night from convincing Arthur of everything, that despite your magic you loved him with no enchantment and even if you had enchanted him Merlin asked Arthur point blank if what he told him that day you were cuddled in Arthur’s arms if it was still true, if he still loved you.

Arthur told Merlin he would always love you but he couldn’t trust you now with magic Merlin felt like slapping the prince.

How could you trust Arthur? He’s the prince of Camelot. A kingdom that tried to burn a woman at the stake the first day he arrived and you had grown up here watching that and still you treated its citizens and royalty with no malice?

Merlin understood why you couldn’t trust Arthur he can’t. Not because Arthur was a bad friend but he’s the prince.

No one can help how they are born, but you can put yourself in their shoes and Merlin spent hours convincing Arthur and then more hours enchanting aredian.

From the tincture of belladonna, to the bracelet, to even the frog from aredians throat! Merlin would not fail.

You loved Merlin a lot no one would go as far as he did to save you and you only knew him for a year and a half.

When three knocks sounded on the door Merlin had tried to hide his smile as gauis opened the door to Arthur, in a white shirt freshly showered hair and a Bouquet of wildflowers you felt your heart melt at his kindness

His blue eyes were filled with worry and fear his gaze flicking to gauis and Merlin before he lowered his voice “how are you?”

“Much better now I’m out of that god forsaken cell.” You felt your throat close up at the mention of the cell you spent so long in

Arthur felt guilty about his actions about not saving you or stopping his father. He tried but he could have tried harder

You could see Arthur was drowning in his guilt placing your hand on his shoulder you lead him past gauis and Merlin to your room and sat on your small bed

“You tried your hardest Arthur, it’s not your fault I was thrown in the dungeons.”

“I should have stopped them y/n. I should have broken you out I should have done anything!” Arthur blinked through tears

His hand holding yours in your lap, “Arthur I love you with my whole heart I do not blame you, so please do not blame yourself.”

“I love you and I promise I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you.” Arthur confessed his eyes full of sincere love

You couldn’t help yourself but to kiss him your lips meshing against one another’s felt like home, it felt like love and warmth and like an apology all in one.

It wasn’t until your lungs burnt for air did you pull back. “I should go I don’t want anyone to become suspicious, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Arthur asked tentatively a part of him afraid of rejection.

“Of course” you placed another kiss on his lip before pulling open your chamber door to reveal Merlin and gauis on the other side ears pressed against the wood looking guilty.

“Merlin…gauis what do you think you’re doing?” You chastise at the pair you expected this of Merlin but of gauis? That was surprising

“Gauis i expected better of you” Arthur laughed from where he stood wrapping an arm around your shoulder

[starrgazed22]

LET THE GAME RUN OUR DESTINY

Jim Halpert x fem!reader Word count: 900 words Warnings: Nothing, just fluff, I guess. Summary: You decide to play this game you bought, The Sims 2, to cure your boredom in the office.

Another boring day at Dunder Mifflin’s, but not really.

The camera zooms in on your computer monitor from a distance, revealing you’re playing The Sims 2. You hear a door thud, Michael coming out of the office, and you quickly hide The Sims with your mail.

──────

(your interview with the camera crew)

“Jim helped me install this game I bought yesterday, called The Sims. It’s so addicting.” Cut. “No, just random characters, that I chose at the start of the game,” you clear your throat. “No one specific.”

──────

(Jim's separate interview with the crew)

“Yeah, I helped her install it, but if she gets into trouble because of it,” he throws his hand into the air, “I have nothing to do with it.”

──────

The cameraman pans over to your face, catching you being extremely focused on the game.

Time today goes really slowly, but the game is saving it. Not for Jim though. Jim is so bored, he hasn’t talked to you the whole afternoon because of the game. The game literally sucked you in. He decides to walk over to see what you’re playing. You quickly hide it, acting like nothing just happened. Jim raises his eyebrows.

“What? Nothing,” you try to play it cool.

“Come on, let me see! I am curious what it looks like.” He tries.

You blush a little, pretending you’re going through your mail. “No.”

He looks at you hurt. “Alright then, I’ll go back to boring myself, also known as, doing work.” He playfully grunts.

You chuckle at his joke, minimizing the mail window to play the game again.

After some time, the lunch break comes. You decide not to worry about the game being opened, because no one will go around your desk anyway.

Jim, still on a call with a client, signals you to go ahead, and you walk to the break room first. Jim finishes the call, hanging up the phone. He wants to throw away his Jell-O cup, still from the morning. He goes to the nearest trash can, which is next to your desk. He throws it away, suddenly amazed by something on your desk. He leans to get a closer look at your screen. He smiles to himself.

“She did us in that game. Me and her.” He smiles downwards. “Oh, she said those are random characters?” He chuckles. “What a coincidence.” He stretches all the a’s in the last sentence.

Jim finally comes into the break room, sitting down at the table.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey, Jim.” You smile at him as you slurp in your noodles.

“So, how are we doing?” He asks casually.

You respond, not getting the secret message behind it. “I’m doing pretty good, did all the calls Michael told me to do.”

“No...” He chuckles. “I meant, how are we doing?” He asks, pointing his head back to the main room.

You look at him, genuinely confused. Suddenly you realize it. You put your head into your palm, covering your eyes in embarrassment.

Jim chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s okay, really,” he reassures you, sensing your embarrassment. “It’s funny. By the way, thanks for making me look like Prince Charming.”

You peek through your fingers, a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have spent a little too much time on your character,” you admit.

Jim grins, taking a bite of his sandwich. He leans back in the chair, the chair making a small squeak. “Alright, so, what’s our story in The Sims? Are we a family? Colleagues? Maybe lovers?” A small smirk plays on his lips.

You feel your cheeks heating up again. “Well, I didn’t get too far with the storyline yet, but we’re housemates. We live together.”

“Oh, really?” Jim raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “Housemates, huh?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “It just seemed easier than having to switch between two houses all the time, you know. Plus it saves money.”

“Yeah, right,” Jim says with a big amused smile on his lips. He leans forward, his eyes locking with yours.

You stare at him, heart pounding. “What?”

Jim shrugs, still smiling. “What if we let that game decide what we do in real life.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

He chuckles softly. “Whatever happens in the game we have to do. Up for the challenge?”

You feel a smile spreading across your face. “Alright, then.”

Jim’s grin widens. “Great.” He stands up, finishing his sandwich. “Shall the computer decide our destiny.”

You shake your head with a smile, feeling a rush of excitement as you watch Jim leave the room.

You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee before heading back to your desk. You walk up to your desk, stopping in disbelief. You see the screen, the characters stopped in time while they’re kissing. You look over at Jim, who is trying to hold in his laugh, avoiding eye contact. You deduce he did that. But you still feel a bit of blush run over your cheeks.

“Very funny, Jim.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile.

“What! You agreed to let it run our destiny.” He shrugs his shoulders at you.

You resume the gameplay, seeing what the characters will do next.

“Wow, they’re heading to bed now,” you announce with sarcastically no emotion.

He bursts out laughing, trying to keep quiet.

Such a dork.