#in honor of the finale today that i have not watched yet

[dexiente]

charlies of the world i am sorry

[annwrites]

⸻ sons & daughters. part five.

· pairing: cregan stark x velaryonprincess!reader · type: part of a series · summary: your heart is broken multiple times in one day & just when you feel at the end of your rope—unable to take anymore—your heart is mended by another's loving, steady hands. · word count: 7,815

When you wake the next morning, it is with a sense of belonging. For the first time in all your life.

A contended smile spreads across your lips as you snuggle further into your furs.

Furs which still smell of him.

Last night, you had begun to drift off in Cregan’s arms, your body feeling light and warm, so he had picked you up and carried you over to your bed, so you might rest.

He’d bent down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then brushing one over your lips, and as soon as he made to step away, you’d reached out for him, grabbing his fingertips, and asked him to stay.

He’d not refused. Instead, he had laid down next to you, wrapping you in his arms once more as the two of you continued to share soft kisses and gentle touches before you closed yours eyes for the night.

After breaking your fast, even if you had felt too excited to eat, Alia helps you dress. Afterward, you hug her with joy, to which she is quite taken aback, but she only laughs and tells you that you are welcome and she then leaves you.

You begin to open the door to your room, wishing desperately to seek Cregan out, just to be near him. Wherever he goes today—whatever he does—you only want to be beside him during.

And that is when you hear the news.

Your door is open no more than a crack—barely, at that—and you watch in silence at two older men go walking by.

“Yes, Lord Stark is most certainly considering a betrothal to the Lady Blackwood. It would do well to have such an arrangement in the possible wars to come. Their forces joined with ours would add volume to our ranks.”

The second man hums. “He has ruminated on the offer for some time. I believe it bodes well, however, that he has not rejected it outright. He is, instead, as always, acting with caution and measured thought. The loss of the Lady Arra was keenly felt by all, but it is time.”

You softly shut your door, pressing your forehead to it as your stomach twists so painfully it makes you wince—your bowels turning to water.

You’d trusted him. How…how could you have done such a thing?

Why did you not listen to Jace instead? He's a young man himself, and thus knows their ways of thinking.

Lord Stark had played you quite well, like that of a game of Cyvasse.

He’d slowly drawn you in by bestowing you with his attentions—pretending that he cared—and then had given you small touches and suggestive comments to preen your interest, showering you with gifts and compliments, until your head was spinning and you couldn’t think straight. Or, until all you could think of was love.

You had been raised in King's Landing of all places. What, then? Had you truly—in a matter of only a handful of days—forgotten how to read someone when they are lying to you?

And he had spoken of honor.

Mayhaps he has it, but not when it comes to you.

No. Never you.

And you'd let him into your bed. Nothing had happened—not yet—but now… Now you understood why he had asked for ‘more time’. More time to wrap you round his finger until he was able to finally claim what he desired from you, only to then marry another.

No one will ever want you for love.

You should’ve never started believing otherwise. Not for a day, or a moment.

Coming here had been a great mistake. You regret ever having met him now.

Tears sting your eyes and bile rises in your throat as you think of last night. You, seated in his lap as you allowed his hands to wander.

Whore.

That is what you are.

First, you had permitted Aemond to touch you in such ways—had let him to whisper and insinuate vile things toward you—and just allowed it—because you had actually enjoyed it.

You are not a princess who possesses self-respect. You are instead… You are your mother’s daughter. A mother who has now bedded how many men? You have her disposition.

Don’t you?

Harlot.

You squeeze your eyes shut, struggling to breathe. The room is too cramped. Too crowded. You feel like you are suffocating.

You wrench your door open, needing to be outside. You’ll go to the Godswood. You want to be alone. You begin to mentally pray that he stays away from you.

You need think on how best to word to Jace that you wish to go home now. You won’t tell him anything about Lord Stark because, no matter what has transpired between the two of you, you all need the northern army.

You will tell him that you are not faring well in this northern weather. That you have changed your mind. Going to the Wall would be—at least for you—ill-advised. A foolish thing to consider in the first place, as it is not a place for women. You will thus not intrude.

You nearly slip going down the stairs which lead into the Great Hall, but catch yourself, choking back a sob, your heart having jumped into your throat.

You walk briskly toward the doors which lead outside, and then with bleary eyes, step out. You lower your head, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Alone.

You want to be left alone.

You wrap your arms round yourself, having forgotten your cloak.

You do not want the one he purchased for you now, knowing it is a lie. Same as the items he’d procured for you yesterday.

You will leave them behind when you go. You want nothing more from him.

It is just as you are about to pass the stables that you hear a young man calling for you. “Princess Y/N!”

You quickly wipe hot tears from your cheeks before turning back to him, refusing to meet his eyes.

“A raven came for you,” he states, holding a scroll toward you.

You gingerly take it from him with a slight nod. “Thank you.”

When Cregan emerges into the yard, a broad smile crosses his lips just at the mere sight of you.

Gods, how good it had felt to have you in his arms the night last.

You, curled into his side, tucked close with furs all around you as you dreamt—one of your soft, dainty hands resting over his heart, which now belongs wholly to you.

He had laid there for awhile—a long while (So long, in fact, that he had nearly fallen asleep beside of you, but refused to, even if he'd desperately wished for as much. He would not risk a servant, or even your brother—his new close friend—finding him with you in such a state, ruining your reputation; it means far too much to him. You do.)—imagining each night for the rest of his days being that way.

To have you lain bare beside him as he runs his rough hands along your soft body, telling you how beautiful and dear you are to him—that he will spend the rest of his days caring for and protecting you—he can imagine no finer fate.

The Gods blessed him by sending you to him.

You are meant to be together as one.

Now and always.

He had worried for so long after Arra passed that his grief would never cease, until it eventually turned to numbness. But when he set eyes upon you that first day as you looked around you in wonder at his home, his body awakened once more. After that, he could do naught else but think of you.

The morning he sparred with Jace, his irritation had partially been due to finding out you mayhaps loved another, yes, but also due to his advisors. If he heard the name 'Black Aly' one more time, he'd been sure he would fly into a black rage.

And he nearly had.

He didn't wish for her. He wished for genteelness. And there you were before him at last.

Cregan only manages not even a handful of steps in your direction before he stops, his brows furrowing as he watches your disposition suddenly change.

You stare down at a piece of parchment within your hands, looking at it in disbelief—near-agony—before turning your face upward, staring into the sky as if you're looking for...explanation. For something.

He needs to know what has happened.

And then you nod softly, looking forward again, a final look of resignation crossing your features as you quickly wipe tears angrily from your cheeks, a scowl settling onto your lips as you head toward the training yard.

Jace's smile quickly fades as he sees you heading toward him looking...not yourself. Pale, angry, utterly upset.

"Sister, what is—"

You hold out the missive toward him and he takes it with furrowed brows, waiting for you to say something—anything—but you instead remain silent, staring at him, waiting for him to read.

And so he does, his expression morphing into incredulity and then horrification. He begins to shake his head rapidly, his eyes meeting your own once again.

"This—this cannot be."

"It is."

"You cannot mean to—"

"I do."

He steps closer to you. "Dalton Greyjoy is a mad-man—a bloodthirsty beast. He already has over two score wives!"

You snatch the piece of parchment from him, quickly rolling it up and clutching it in a tight grip. "And now he will have yet one more."

You clench your jaw before continuing. "He has promised to make me his rock wife—his one true bride."

"They—they call him the Red Kraken, do you not know why?!"

"Because he is a fierce warrior of the Iron Islands. We will need men like him in the wars to come."

"You are better than this," he tries to insist.

And it is then that you snap. "This is what I am!" You shout, shaking the correspondence held tightly within your fist.

You force yourself to quiet, now that curious eyes are looking your way.

"He has a fleet of ships and fearless reavers. They will do us well against the Greens."

"We have a fleet through Lord Corlys," he snaps back.

"And now we shall have a larger one. As of this moment, I consider myself Lord Greyjoy's betrothed. He desires a princess, so a princess he shall have."

He shakes his head, grabbing your arm, desperate to talk you out of this.

You are not thinking clearly.

"You will be miserable there. You...you will waste away at Pyke as—as lonely and—"

You take a step back, yanking your arm from his grip. "As you said, he has a great many wives. Plenty to share in my misery. We shall do so together."

"What of Cregan? I had thought that the two of you...that something more was developing."

Your eyes turn hard, hateful. "We have nothing. He is our ally. That is all. I cannot wait for a proposal that will never come. I have one here and now, and I must take it before another claims him as their Lord Husband instead."

He scoffs, shocked at your flippant attitude toward a man he had been sure he had seen you only a day past looking at with love.

"I need you to promise me that come first light tomorrow you will return me to Dragonstone to inform mother that I have accepted and must be delivered at once to Pyke."

Tears sting his eyes. His sister. His twin. He...he can't just let you do this.

"Sister, please—"

"Promise me, Jace, or I will make arrangements myself."

There is a terse silence, and then he nods in surrender.

You turn to walk away then, unable to discuss it any further.

It is done.

"I had merely hoped for better prospects for you," he calls softly from behind you.

You stand with your back to him for just a moment as you quickly reply. "Better isn't coming, Jace. War is. And we must all play our part."

You continue on, mumbling, with a sneer, "Including me."

Cregan stumbles back at your words, hiding himself in the armory, eavesdropping through a window as you renounce yourself—your future—to one where you will be tore to a thousand pieces until not a single whole one remains.

All in the name of what? Your family winning a sea-faring battle or two?

You had said the two of you had nothing. Why...why would you think such a thing? Mayhaps because he had asked for time, and in this moment, you filled with doubt toward him.

No one will ever want me for love.

He has now made you think of him as just one more man who sees you as only what you are, instead of who. All the touches and suggestive looks...

Oh Gods, what has he fucking done?

He's about to lose you.

The future which he had envisioned, between waking fantasies and sleeping dreams now rests upon a precipice. One you are about to step over the edge of, never to return to him.

The thought of you there in one of those towering castles over the sea, staring out the window, empty and hopeless and heartbroken with not a single soul to save you from not just him, but yourself—a nightmarish fate—he can't bear the thought.

He clutches his chest, coughing, his heart squeezing painfully. An all-too familiar feeling he'd thought he'd long moved past some time after Arra's passing, but it returns to him now at the thought of you walking away from him. From the North.

It's your home now. It's meant to be. You are supposed to remain here where you most belong. The Gods themselves had ordained it.

He looks down to the scroll protruding from his pocket, meant to be flown to your mother to ask her for your hand, and he knows: his time to do things right by you has already run out in an instant.

There will be no asking her now, but instead you.

Your wishes are all that matter in this moment.

He has to save you. He...he has to keep you where you are loved and wanted and safe.

He steps out, heading back inside, knowing what he must now do.

Once you have returned to your chambers, you lock the door and step swiftly over to your wardrobe, ripping gowns from the hangers—you hear one tear, but care not—and begin stuffing them into the bag you had brought with you.

You angrily wipe gathering tears from your bleary eyes as you grab your shoes from beneath your bed and pack them away as well.

And then you spot it. The cloak he had gifted you.

You swipe it from the back of the settee and make to throw it into the fire, but pause, your fist hovering just before the flames, the black material softly swaying.

You then cry out in frustration and toss it into a corner.

No one will ever want you for love.

You throw your bag so hard against a chair that it scoots a few inches across the floor.

You then bury your face in the mattress and scream, clutching the sheets, the furs, losing yourself.

You gasp for air, hand settling over your abdomen as you try to calm it, fearing you may be sick.

No one will ever want you for love.

You tear at the back of your gown, you rip the sleeves off, as well as the neckline and it finally pools at your feet. You crawl into bed then and cry yourself back to sleep.

No one will ever marry you for love.

Your brows furrow.

You...you're not meant to be here. You don't want to be. Why have you returned to the Red Keep?

You step closer to a window. Snow...in the south and during the summer. Something isn't right.

Mama.

You turn down one hall and then another, until you finally reach your royal apartments.

When you step inside, she's there, but so is Daemon, the two of them twined around one another, their grasping hands dripping with blood.

"M-Mama?"

Her expression is that of indifference when she looks upon you.

Daemon smirks as he glances across the room. "You may call me father now instead."

You follow his line-of-sight and gasp, stumbling backwards, knocking something over.

A charred body lies half-inside the room's hearth, and not but a few feet from it, a golden cloak with a pile of ashes atop it.

Laenor. Harwin.

No.

No.

Not them.

Please not them.

You begin to wildly shake your head as you turn, yanking against the door's handle and when you emerge back into the hall, it has changed.

You're...you're in Winterfell, aren't you?

Dark wooden walls, braziers flickering softly, the howl of a wolf in the distant night.

"Cregan," you whisper to yourself.

He will help you.

You begin racing down the halls, heart beating wildly, unable to get that horrid sight out of your head.

And then you come to his door and you know you are safe.

You knock softly, and you hear feet padding toward you.

It opens.

"What is she doing here?" You hear a woman call from behind him as he stares down at you in irritation.

"I don't want you here," he says through clenched teeth.

You whimper in fear, tears stinging your eyes. "But—"

A lithe young woman comes around the side of him, raven-black curls falling over her shoulders, her form completely naked.

She glances to you with disinterest and then to Cregan. "Come back to bed. Forget about her."

He smiles, cupping her cheek, and nodding as he slams the door in your face.

You choke back a terrified sob, having no idea where else to now go.

No one wants you.

No one.

No one will ever want you for love.

You need to steal a horse and ride south.

To King's Landing.

Aemond.

Aemond wants you.

You will go to him. He loves you. Doesn't he?

Then perhaps we steal away in the dark of night, married in secret by a septon, you hear whispered in your ear from an indeterminable location.

Let us finally be free of our gilded cages, beloved niece. Together, he continues; you feeling familiar hands then holding you safely.

Yes.

Free.

You will be. Together. Just like he said.

"Sister, you must wake."

You go to swat Jace's hand away from your shoulder. "Leave me be, Jace. I wish to rest."

You shove your face into the pillow, exhausted.

"Lord Cregan has summoned us both to his solar."

"Whatever it is does not require me, I'm sure. Please, Jace, just go."

He sighs. "He has demanded us both be present. He says it's of utmost importance and cannot wait."

Your eyes slowly open, your stomach beginning to twist again. You don't want to see or be near him. Do not wish to so much as hear his voice.

The morrow cannot come soon enough.

You sit up, feeling dizzy. "Has word come from home? Has something happened?"

He shrugs. "He wouldn't say. It is why you must come at once."

You finally stand, grabbing the cloak which you rode in with and turn to him, not even bothering with shoes or proper clothing.

Jace thinks to tell you to put on a suitable dress, but when he looks into your eyes and see they are naught but void, he holds his tongue.

He wraps his arm round your shoulders as he leads you out and into the hall, and toward the awaiting Lord Cregan.

When the two of you enter the private meeting room, you merely stare at the floor as you take a seat beside Jace.

Cregan notes with dejection how you refuse to so much as look at him. How you look unkempt—your hair in tangles, only a thin cloak covering your frame, your complexion wan, and eyes puffy and red from crying.

Oh, his sweet girl.

But your pain will soon be soothed and all will be right once more.

You stare numbly out the open window to the right, drowning out whatever Lord Stark and Jace discuss. You do not much care. About anything.

Not anymore.

The full moon emerges from behind clouds, the evening sky gradually growing dark as night begins to fall.

Looking at the moon does not bring them back to you now. Nothing will.

They're gone.

Dead.

And then you wonder if Aemond can see it, too. If he is looking at it thinking of you as well. Would it be night in King's Landing? You doubt it, but when it is, perhaps he will share the sight with you.

The last time you saw him was the last, wasn't it? There would be no returning.

You hope he lets go of you and does not waste his days awaiting a girl who is now lost to him.

A tear slips down your cheek and your chin wobbles, your heart cleaving in two.

Jace is fortunate to have Baela, and Luke Rhaena. At least they will all have fondness in their marriages, if nothing else. What will you have, you wonder? A man who comes to you in the dark of night stinking of death and slick with blood as he claims what will then rightfully belong to him, even if you do not wish it.

What you want doesn't matter.

Mayhaps it never did.

A pawn to be moved about the board. That is all you are.

Mayhaps...you are not really here.

Another tear slips free and you sniffle.

Jace finally turns to you with an elated look upon his face. "What say you, then, sister?"

You slowly turn your head to look at him, your expression blank.

You blink once before standing, both men doing so as well.

You hold your cloak tightly around your trembling form. "Please, forgive me, Lord Stark, Jace. I do not feel well and wish to retire to my chambers to rest. I have a long journey tomorrow and will need it."

You go to step away, Cregan's heart beginning to break, but Jace grabs your arm. "Did you not hear what Lord Stark said?" He asks, his tone panicked.

You slip your arm from his grip. "Whatever is the matter, Jace, I am confident you and Lord Stark will resolve it together. My presence here is unnecessary."

You walk toward the door, your heart in your throat. You need to get out, need to get away from him.

No one will ever want you for love.

"Sister!" Jace calls.

"Princess. Y/N!" Cregan says, coming closer toward you.

Your twin spins you round to him, your back now pressed to the door.

You can't breathe. You just want them to let you go. You can't be here.

"Please, Jace, let me go!" You shout through blinding tears.

"Just—Y/N, listen—" he starts, but you step to the side.

"I don't feel well, please!" You choke out through violent sobs.

Gods, what is happening to you?

Finally, Cregan has had enough and lightly pushes Jace aside as he takes your face between his hands, even as you shove against his chest.

The feel of him...you do not want it. Why is he doing this?

"I have asked your brother for your hand in marriage."

You blink up at him, hiccuping, a long pause of silence.

"W-what?"

He brushes hot tears from your soft cheeks, his heart breaking at the sight of you being this distant to him.

"I would take you for my Lady Wife. Tonight."

"Why?" You ask with furrowed brows, mind spinning.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Because of your beauty, your grace, and your genteelness. Your strength and resolve to do what needs be done in the name of your family, even to your own detriment. You are loyal. And you love whom you love fiercely."

He runs his knuckles gently along your cheek. "I will admit that since the passing of my late Lady Wife that I have received a considerable amount of offers of marriage. None have yet tempted me. Until I set eyes upon you. I was captivated body and soul. The thought of relinquishing you to another who would not appreciate you..."

He shakes his head. "Who would not protect nor value you? Would not treat you as tenderly as I might? It grieves me to consider such a thing."

He takes a step closer. "So, let us prevent it: our mutual agony of losing what can so easily be ours. Agree. Take my hand. And remain in the North where you belong. By my side, where you belong. You said once that the North felt like home to you. Princess—Y/N—you feel like home to me. So do not take yourself from me in the name of a fleet of ships or a small army. I beg of you."

He leans down, kissing you, caring not for what Jace may think. "I will give you the might of the North—and you, the title of Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North. I can think of no one more deserving."

You stare up at him, in disbelief, sure you are imagining this. Not hearing him correctly.

You break then, sobbing, unable to catch your breath as you drown in a sea of tears.

Cregan merely pulls you into his chest, his large hand cradling the back of your head as his other arm wraps round you to keep you close.

You don't see, but he gives Jace a silent look, asking him to leave the two of you alone for a moment.

He replies with a solemn nod, silently slipping out of the room.

Cregan presses his lips to the top of your head, your body continuing to quiver in fear.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "For allowing you to feel for even a moment that I do not love you."

You cling to him, your cries eventually quieting as a feeling of weariness instead overtakes you.

“What about Lady Blackwood?” You ask quietly.

He pulls back, continuing to hold you to him, cupping your cheek once more.

His brows furrow. “Where did you hear that name?”

“I…this morn, when I was about to leave my room I heard men in the halls. Passing by. They spoke of a betrothal to her. Rather, that you were seriously considering one…”

He understands then. You’d thought he’d been playing you like a wolf with its prey all this time, while another waited for him to take the hand of.

Gods, his poor, sweet girl.

Your eyes fill with tears again.

He tenderly tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “For some time now my advisors have tried to encourage a union between us—between me and any highborn lady, in truth—so I might produce further heirs. I waited, however. I had married once for love and…”

He sighs. “If I had to marry again out of duty, I would have. But then you came to me, and the moment I set eyes upon you, something within me shifted. It was as if I had become alive once more. The thought of losing that feeling again—losing you?”

He presses an achingly soft kiss to your lips. “It would drive me to the brink of madness.”

He lowers himself to one knee then, holding your hand. “Y/N, I beg of you, in the name of the Gods—Old and New—be my bride this night. Be my wife. My Lady. Be…mine. Let me care for and love and cherish you for the rest of my days. Rather, our days. Do not take yourself from me only to hand yourself over to a monster. I’ll do anything just to make you say yes. So, please—”

“Yes.”

He stops, relief filling his very soul. “You will?”

You nod gently. “Yes.”

He stands on two feet again, pulling you back to his chest.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

You nod, your eyes fluttering closed, tears slipping down your cheeks as your heart finally calms.

“I don’t have a wedding gown,” you say quietly.

He nods. “I have something that may suit you. If it does not, wear whatever you wish. All that matters to me is that we become one this night.”

He wraps his cloak around you which hangs from his shoulders, for warmth, you enveloped in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You then stand on tiptoes, reaching for him and he leans down to meet your lips.

“And I you,” you reply, tears shimmering in your eyes.

Jace had been waiting outside as you and Cregan spoke and had been beyond pleased when your betrothed informed him of the good news—that you were to be wed this very night, because you had graciously accepted his proposal.

He could’ve nearly cried from the relief of it all.

His good friend settled—he could tell the young lord was desolate; raising his son all alone with no one of his own to love—and his sister, his twin, to be married to a strong and warm and honorable man.

He could not have imagined a better match.

He is only beyond grateful that a far worse one will now never come about.

So, Cregan had asked your brother to deliver you back to your chambers while he procured for you a gown.

And when he delivered it unto you, it took your breath away.

“It was my mother’s,” he’d stated, settling it into your arms.

Your eyes met his then, filling yet again with tears. “It’s beautiful.”

He had ran his fingers gently along your cheek. “She would have adored you just as I do. I think she would be…quite proud for you to be wearing her dress.”

You’d looked behind you, to your room, then back to him. “I truly hope it will fit.”

He'd nodded. “If it doesn’t, it is still yours to keep.”

Your smile had wobbled as you swallowed thickly. “Thank you.”

As Alia readied you for the ceremony, Cregan readied his household. He had promised you that tonight, things would be quiet and intimate. No grand gathering. That, if you wished for one, it would come later.

This evening was about the two of you and no one else.

You had told him vowing to be bound together for life was more than enough for you. Festivities were not necessary.  

The dress is a bit snug, but fits well enough, and it is beautiful. Lace trim, soft gossamer and silk, a long, flowing skirt, with a bodice in the shape of a heart, and the sleeves shimmer against firelight.

You’re grateful to Cregan for allowing you to not only wear, but have this dress. You suppose, in a way, it makes you feel closer to her: his mother. She must have been a lovely woman to raise such a man.

Your hair is long and flowing, with a crown of small white roses adorning your brow, pearls scattered throughout your curls. And you wear the necklace he gifted you of a small silver snowflake.

The final touch is a soft brown fur wrap—made of rabbit—which Alia lays over your shoulders before nodding her head. “I think that should do it, Princess. You look perfect.”

You take her hands in yours. “Y/N, please. This…this is going to be my home now. I would like…I’d very much like for us to be friends. Would you?”

She nods, smiling. “I would.”

Jace’s breath is taken away by your beauty. How you look every inch a northerner. How quickly you were able to transform into one… He wonders, now, if this place has not been awaiting your arrival all this time. Or, you it.

He offers you his arm. “Shall we?”

You take it, nodding. “Don’t let me fall.”

He presses a kiss to your hair, careful not to mess so much as a strand. “Never.”

“Father, Mother, Maiden, Smith, Warrior, Crone, Stranger. I am his, and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

The Septon speaks, finalizing the ceremony. “Let all bear witness to the union of Lord Cregan of House Stark, and Princess Y/N of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon, being now bound together as one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be they who should seek to tear them asunder.”

A solitary tear slips down your cheek, and over your lips, which mingles between yours and Cregan’s as he takes your face between his hands, and kisses you long and deep. And passionately.

All cheer and laugh and smile, including Jace and Alia—your brother standing as Cregan’s best man, and Alia as your maid-of-honor.

And you know then, it was always meant to be him.

From the beginning, the Godswood in the Red Keep had been the place you went to for refuge and peace. Northern tales had always been your favorite as a child. And snowfall was something you’d desired to one day see—feel upon your skin—for as long as you could recall.

Even just a few days past, Cregan had wrapped you in his cloak before this very same tree. The Gods had known, even if the two of you hadn’t.

They always had.

Dinner is celebratory, but not exactly a grand affair. There is music and drink and hearty foods to be had, while a fire roars in the great hearth.

As the servants had been given short notice, in place of a cake, biscuits with jam and honey are served, which you and your new Lord Husband serve to one another, kissing each other’s face’s clean with many laughs and smiles.

A few journey into Winter Town to visit late-open shops and return with small wedding gifts: fine materials for you and colorful threads, books, and collections of decorative candles. You take all graciously and with a great many thanks, promising they will all be put to use. You even place a few of the candles atop the hearth’s mantle, their wicks flickering as people dance and converse.

For Cregan, he is gifted a couple small ornate daggers, and a pelt, along with a new whetstone. His insistence that he wants for nothing is ignored.

Once things begin to wind down, he turns to you, his hand sliding along your back, to then grip your hip and pull you close as he whispers into your ear “it is time for us to retire, my love”.

You merely lick your lips and nod.

You’ve never been in Cregan’s chambers before tonight. You suppose now they are also yours.

Your chambers.

And the first thing you notice is just how very organized he is. Unusual for a man, you deem. Unless, of course, that is in thanks to the servants having readied the room while the two of you were celebrating.

The door stands behind you and to your right is a large desk, with stacks of parchment, a collection of quills and an inkpot that you’re sure must be the size of your palm.

To the left is a row of hooks mounted to the stone wall, which holds cloaks and furs.

The mantle above the hearth has a long row of well-loved books placed atop it, with worn metal bookends in the shape of howling direwolves.

The same as your room, there is a large settee before the hearth, with brown and dark blue blankets lain across the back.

To the right of it, in the corner, is a wardrobe.

The opposite wall has a set of double-doors, the top portion of which are stained-glass windows that are the sigil of his house, painted in white and black and light blue, small, sheer curtains hanging over them. Beside those doors, a small square table for eating, with stuffed chairs on either side.

And finally, there is a large, four-post bed, turned down, with plenty of blankets and pillows and yes, more furs. On either side are wooden end-tables, and at the foot of the bed, a chest with cushions atop it.

You step over to the hearth and look at the large sword which is mounted on brass hooks atop it.

“Ice,” Cregan states, coming to stand behind you. “The ancestral sword of our house.”

Our house. It warms you to hear him say it.

You lean back against him, smiling softly as his arms wrap around you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this…content before,” you remark.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, before gently turning you around in his arms to face him.

He removes the flower crown from your brow, tossing it back onto the settee—perhaps you will press it into a book tomorrow for safe-keeping—before brushing a kiss over your lips. “I’ve not for a very long time now.”

He cups the back of your head, bringing his lips down to your own, his mouth moving slowly against yours, tongue tasting you as his fingers move to the back of your dress, unlacing it.

He kisses down your cheek and your jaw, coming back up to your ear. “Let us bind ourselves as one in this final way, my love.”

A pulse forms between your legs and you nod, your eyes fluttering closed as you push his cloak from his shoulders and it falls to the floor with a soft thud.

He brings his lips back to your own as he tugs your gown down, down, down, until it, too, has pooled at your feet.

You pull away for only a moment, gently folding it before placing it delicately upon the lounge.

He slips his fingers beneath the straps of your shift, and he grips either side in his hands and pulls it down your body.

He dips his head, kissing the tops of each of your breasts and your fingers tangle in his hair, a sigh escaping your lips.

His hands then slide lower, slipping your smallclothes from your waist, and once you have toed off your shoes, all that is left are your thigh-high stockings.

You reach down, gripping the tops of them, until you feel his finger under your chin.

“Leave them.”

With that, he cradles your body in his arms, carrying you over to the bed and he lies you back on fresh sheets as he stands at the foot of it.

You feel as if every nerve ending is exposed as you lie back on your forearms, your legs spread as you watch him undress himself.

He removes his jerkin, then reaches behind him, gripping his shirt back and tugging it over his head, his eyes returning to yours, watching how you lick your lips as he begins to unlace his breeches.

He had, admittedly, once wondered what the hair covering that most delicate part of you would be like in color. He is pleased to find it matches perfectly that which is atop your head.

He toes off his boots, then shoves down his trousers, along with his socks, leaving himself naked before you.

Your eyes widen as he takes his long, thick member in-hand and begins to stroke it.

Your eyes flit back to his, heat pooling between your thighs. Gods, you want him to touch you again.

Yours. All yours.

He takes a step forward, his thighs hitting the edge of the bed. “I don’t want for you to be afraid. I promise you that I’ll be as gentle as I can be.”

You shake your head.

“I’m not,” you reply breathlessly.

He nods, then climbs atop you, pressing his lips to yours and kisses you so achingly slow, removing his hand from himself and instead trailing it down your sensitive skin, your body jerking at the touch, a sigh escaping your lips as he moves to your neck, his fingers coming to explore your hot, wet core.

You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck, the ends of his hair tickling your breasts as he moves his mouth lower, taking a peaked nipple inside of it, rolling it gently between his teeth.

Your back arches, his other hand slipping beneath it, holding you closely as his dextrous fingers spread your labia, gently massaging.

Your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh, Gods,” you whisper.

You’ve touched yourself before. Many a time. But for another to do it—for him? You fear you may be reluctant to ever leave this bed—at the very least this room—after tonight.

He presses a hot, wet kiss between your breasts, then your stomach, his hands gripping your hips before he playfully peppers kisses on your cheeks and chin and nose, earning him a bubbly giggle from your lips.

He is glad to hear it. He doesn’t want you tensed up and anxious this night. He wants you to enjoy yourself. To experience just how pleasurable and intimate lovemaking can be.

His eyes gaze into your own, warm and full of love. “Are you ready, my darling?”

You nod, lifting your hips to meet his. “Yes.”

He presses his lips to yours, begins to rub the tip of himself against your dripping entrance—pleased to find you so ready for him—and he eases inside, breaking through your maidenhead.

You gasp against his lips, tears stinging your eyes.

He presses his forehead to your own. “Breathe, my love. Lift your hips for me again, darling.”

You do, and he sinks deeper, the pain quickly turning into something wholly different as he fills you.

“Gods,” he whispers in your ear as you clench around him for the first time.

He moves one hand into your curls, the other sliding down your thigh, lifting your leg onto his back as he begins to rock his hips against yours, a low moan emitting from the back of his throat at the feel of you.

You coat the length of him, the sound of your arousal meeting his ears as he eases out and then back in so, so slowly.

You lie your head back against the mountain of pillows behind you, soft furs lie beneath your sensitive, naked skin, the fire warming every inch of you.

You feel…somehow euphoric. The two of you joined together as one—literally—causes a small sob to escape your lips.

His head jerks up and he stares down at your tear-streaked cheeks. “Are you in pain? Should I stop—”

You shake your head vigorously. “I’m happy.”

He smiles before pressing his lips back to your own, easing back inside of you.

He then begins to lean up, gripping your waist and settling you into his lap, your bodies chest-to-chest as his hands tug against your hips, encouraging you to find your own pace.

You begin to undulate beneath his instructive hands, your body quivering as his callused palms rub against your back. He lies his head against your breasts and you run your fingers through the tangled strands of his hair, pressing soft kisses to the top of his head.

“I love you,” you whisper, your heart filled to the brim.

His lips come to hover over your own. “And I you.”

“I regret making arrangements for us three to travel to the Wall tomorrow with our retinue,” Cregan states, his fingertips ghosting across the soft skin of your back.

You lift your head, removing your hand from his chest and instead cupping his cheek.

He continues as he turns more toward you. “For I do not wish to allow you out of this bed for at least a sennight.”

He presses yet another kiss to your already swollen lips with a cheeky grin.

You smile, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs where he has already spilled his seed thrice—once with your legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounded away relentlessly inside of you. That position… You’d been able to form naught more than garbled words and cries of pleasure during.

“Nor do I.”

You slide a leg between both of his. “Mayhaps we could reschedule our visit?”

“Wish that we could, but I already sent a raven, which may have already reached them. At the very least, will be shortly.”

He cups your cheek. “You should know that is why I wished to wait to propose to you. This morn, I had intended to send a request to your mother for your hand. And then I heard that you…intended to take another to husband. I merely wished to do things the right way. Not just because it is—right—but because I know how much your family means to you.”

You flush. “About that…”

He leans over you with furrowed brows, and you cup his cheek with a nervous smile. “I hope you do not find it presumptuous, but just before Jace and I took to flight atop Vermax, my mother told me that…due to your young age, and knowing that you are a widower…”

Your eyes flit from his chest, then back to his own. “She told me if love were to grow—if you asked for my hand and I felt it right; I desired it, then I was to give you both our blessing. So you already had it.”

His lip twitches. “All that upset due to naught more than misunderstandings on both sides.”

He takes your hand in his, brushing a kiss over your fingers. “I will forever regret that for even a moment you doubted the love which I now hold for you.”

You shake your head, curling your fingers against his stubbled cheek. “When did you know?”

“When I saw you with Rickon. That morn, I had gone to the Godswood to pray, asking for the Gods to give me a sign—any—if it was meant to be. For I wished for you—to have you. To claim you as mine own. Desperately. The conversation we had in Winter Town made me doubtful, if for a moment. It is…why I changed tactics,” he states with a raised brow.

“I wanted you assured that I was a man who chased after that which he desires most—that I do not relent easily—and that was you. But it was also a matter of whether you wished to be chased. Seeing you with my son, I knew that was at an end, and commitment was to be what remained. That we belonged together. As one.”

He presses a kiss to your warm forehead. “And when I heard you telling Jace…heard you ready to resign yourself to such a horrifying future, I knew the time I thought I had, had then run out.”

He brushes his lips over yours. “It shattered my heart to see you so…heartbroken tonight. You could not even stand my touch. To think I nearly lost you—”

You crush your lips to his. “I am yours.”

You climb into his lap, straddling him, easing him back inside of you.

He grips your hips firmly. “You are mine.”

[novaursa]

The Cold Embrace (2/2)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: As time passes, snow begins to melt.

- Paring: velayrion!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: @missisjoker So, here is the second and last part straight from the oven that was being baked all night. I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you guys like this conclusion of this two part story.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 8 000+

- Previous part: 1/2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess @jellybeanstacey0519 @strengthandstay @anne-mary-1d @lovelyteenagebeard

The crisp chill of autumn clung to the air, painting the landscape of Winterfell in muted shades of orange and gold. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, and the days had grown shorter, yet despite the changing season, little had thawed between you and Cregan Stark. The cold inside the walls of Winterfell seemed to mirror the tension that still lingered between the two of you, each day marked by stilted conversations and, more often than not, sharp exchanges.

Today was no different.

"You speak of duty as if it’s something noble," you spat, your voice tight as you stood across from Cregan in the courtyard, your cloak billowing in the wind. "But this—this life you’ve trapped me in—it’s a cage. You call it honor, but what is honorable about ripping me away from my family?"

Cregan, his expression as hard as the stone walls surrounding you, stood tall, arms crossed over his chest. The northern winds blew through the yard, stirring his dark hair as he met your gaze with his own unflinching one. "A cage? Is that what you see this as? I have given you more freedom than many would expect from a lord. You come and go as you please, and I have not demanded anything of you that you have not been ready to give."

"You think freedom means letting me roam these cold, barren lands?" you shot back, your voice rising. "I am a dragon, Cregan, not some northern wolf content with howling at the moon. I am bound to the skies, to fire and wind, and every moment I am here, I wither. You cannot understand that."

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with frustration. "I have done everything to make this a home for you," he said, his tone dangerously low. "But it’s clear that nothing will ever satisfy you. You’re too busy yearning for something you’ve lost to see what is right in front of you."

You scoffed, turning away from him, your steps hurried as you walked toward the godswood, needing space, needing air. "There is nothing here for me but snow and silence," you muttered, though you knew he heard you.

Cregan watched you go, his heart heavy as the weight of your words settled in. He stood there for a long moment, the wind tugging at his cloak, his expression unreadable. Inside, however, there was a storm brewing—a storm of disappointment, frustration, and something else, something deeper that he had been trying to deny for months.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he turned and made his way back into the keep, his mind racing with thoughts he could no longer ignore.

In the warmth of the solar, the fire crackled in the hearth, its light casting flickering shadows across the room. Grand Maester Kennet sat across from Cregan, his wise old eyes studying the lord with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"You’ve been quieter than usual, my lord," Kennet said, folding his hands in his lap. "Something weighs heavily on you."

Cregan leaned back in his chair, staring into the flames. He had kept his feelings bottled up for so long, unwilling to admit to anyone, let alone himself, how much this situation had affected him. But now, with the distance between him and you growing each day, the burden felt too great to carry alone.

"She doesn’t want to be here," Cregan said quietly, his voice rough with an emotion he rarely let show. "No matter what I do, no matter how much I try to make this place a home for her, she only sees Winterfell as a prison. She longs for Dragonstone. For her family."

Kennet nodded thoughtfully, his expression sympathetic. "It is not uncommon for one to yearn for the place of their birth, especially when it’s been taken from them. The Princess... she is like her mother, strong-willed and fierce. The North is a different world for someone raised among dragons and fire."

Cregan exhaled slowly, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed a hand over his face. "I know that. I’ve known it since the day she arrived. But... there’s more. It’s not just that she can’t find a place here." He paused, his voice dropping, as if the words themselves were difficult to admit. "I care for her, Kennet. More than I thought I ever would. When Jacaerys first came to me, he spoke of her with such passion and admiration. He told me stories of her strength, her spirit, how she was a woman who could stand beside any man, even one like me. And I believed him. I admired her before I even met her."

The Maester listened in silence, his brow furrowed in thought as Cregan continued.

"And when she arrived," Cregan went on, his gaze distant, "I saw it. Everything Jacaerys said was true. She’s fierce, and proud, and... gods, she’s beautiful in her own way. But she looks at me like I’m the reason for all her misery, like I’ve taken something from her that she can never get back. She’ll never see me as anything but the man who keeps her from the life she wants."

Kennet sighed softly, shaking his head. "Love is a complicated thing, my lord. You cannot force it, nor can you expect it to bloom in a place of resentment. The Princess... she is grieving the life she left behind. She may yet come to see what you offer, but it will take time."

Cregan’s eyes flickered with doubt as he looked at the older man. "Time may be something we don’t have. The war brews in the South, and her family is at the heart of it. She feels trapped here while her brothers and mother fight for the throne. I’ve heard her speak of it—how the North is no place for dragons, how she feels as though she’s losing herself in the cold."

The Maester tilted his head, considering Cregan’s words carefully. "It is true that the North is no easy place for a soul like hers. But perhaps... perhaps if you can show her that she can still be who she is, even here, she might come to find her place."

Cregan stood from his seat, pacing the room, the weight of his frustration palpable. "How can I show her that when she refuses to let me in? Every time we speak, it turns into an argument. She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t want to be here, and she certainly doesn’t want to be with me."

Kennet rose slowly, his hands resting on the table as he regarded Cregan with a calm, steady gaze. "Then you must be patient, my lord. If you truly care for the Princess, you will have to endure her fire, much like one endures the harshest winters. But winters pass, and even in the North, the snow melts. Perhaps in time, her heart will soften."

Cregan sighed deeply, staring into the fire once more. He wished it were as simple as waiting for the snow to melt, but as the days passed, he feared the rift between him and you was growing too wide to ever close.

He wanted you to see him, truly see him, not as the man who kept you here but as someone who could stand beside you, strong enough to weather the storm of your spirit. But until then, all he could do was wait.

And hope.

The halls of Winterfell buzzed with an unusual energy, a hive of activity that Cregan hadn’t expected so soon after the summer's end. The brisk wind of autumn howled through the open courtyards, and yet the chill in the air was not the only sign that winter was approaching. Men and women rushed through the keep, arms filled with supplies, voices rising in quick, urgent conversation.

Cregan furrowed his brow as he observed the flurry of work. His bannermen and servants seemed to be following orders, yet none had come directly from him. His curiosity piqued, he caught sight of one of his men, Ser Roland, directing a group of stable hands with a sense of urgency. Cregan made his way over, his long strides carrying him across the courtyard.

"Ser Roland," he called out, his deep voice cutting through the noise. "What’s all this about? I don’t recall ordering preparations for winter just yet."

Ser Roland turned quickly, bowing his head in respect before answering. "Lord Stark, it’s not your orders we’re following. The Princess has taken it upon herself to make sure Winterfell is ready for the long winter ahead. She’s been directing the stores, making changes to the rations, and ensuring that all livestock are accounted for."

Cregan’s brow lifted in surprise. "The Princess? I wasn’t aware she had taken an interest in such matters."

Ser Roland nodded, his expression a mixture of admiration and confusion. "Aye, my lord. She’s had us reorganize the grain stores and instructed that additional salt be used to preserve meats in case the winter lasts longer than expected. She also had some of the women gather herbs and berries for medicinal stocks—said it’s something her mother did on Dragonstone. Even ordered new tunnels to be dug beneath the walls, should the snow block access to certain parts of the keep. It’s... impressive."

Cregan was silent for a moment, taken aback by the level of thought and strategy that had gone into the preparations. The Princess, who had made it clear she despised this place, was ensuring it would withstand winter’s cruelty. And yet, she hadn’t spoken a word of it to him. His initial surprise gave way to a grudging respect.

"And where is she now?" Cregan asked, his tone more curious than demanding.

Roland hesitated before answering. "The Princess took to the skies a short while ago, my lord. She went flying on Silverwing."

"Flying," Cregan repeated, his brow furrowing. It wasn’t unusual for you to seek solace in the skies, but the flicker of worry began to creep in. "And who accompanied her?"

Roland shifted, his expression turning sheepish. "Your son, my lord. Young Rickon went with her."

Cregan stiffened, his heart quickening at the thought of Rickon riding atop Silverwing. His instinct was to feel alarmed—to think of all the things that could go wrong with a boy so young riding a dragon, even one as gentle as Silverwing. For a moment, the image of his son, small and fragile, atop such a powerful beast made him want to storm out and demand answers.

But then he stopped himself. Rickon was not some fragile boy. He was his son, a Stark, raised to face the wild north and the dangers that came with it. And more than that, Silverwing was under your command, a dragon bound to your will. His mind raced with the desire to scold you for being reckless, but something held him back. Rickon had begged for a chance to fly, ever since he had seen the dragons for the first time.

"Thank you, Roland," Cregan said curtly, turning away from the bustling activity of the courtyard and heading toward the godswood where he knew you often landed with Silverwing.

The cold air bit at Cregan's face as he walked through the open fields behind Winterfell. The godswood stood tall and silent in the distance, but it was the open expanse of land beyond it that caught his attention. There, just returning from the skies, was Silverwing. Her massive form settled gracefully on the ground, her wings folding in with practiced ease as you and Rickon dismounted.

He could see Rickon from afar, his small figure bounding toward the keep, his face lit up with sheer joy. As Cregan approached, he heard his son before he saw him up close.

"Father!" Rickon shouted, running full speed toward Cregan, his excitement bubbling over. "I flew, Father! I flew on Silverwing! She let me ride with her, and we soared above the trees! You should’ve seen it!"

The boy’s face was flushed with exhilaration, his cheeks red from the cold wind, and his eyes sparkled with uncontainable glee. He practically bounced in front of Cregan, his enthusiasm infectious.

Cregan knelt down, placing a hand on Rickon’s shoulder. "Did you now?" he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "And you weren’t afraid?"

Rickon shook his head vigorously. "No! The Princess told me not to worry. She said Silverwing wouldn’t let anything happen to me." His voice dropped to a near-whisper, eyes wide with awe. "And she didn’t. I felt like I was part of the sky. Can I go again, Father? Please?"

Cregan looked down at his son, his heart swelling with pride at the boy’s bravery. The initial urge to reprimand you, to accuse you of putting his son at risk, faded as he saw the pure joy on Rickon’s face. How could he take that away from him?

He stood up, his eyes drifting toward you. You were brushing snow from your cloak, your gaze turned elsewhere, as if trying to pretend you hadn’t noticed him approaching. But you had noticed. You always did.

For a moment, Cregan was silent, the tension between the two of you palpable. He could have said something. Could have warned you against taking such risks with his son. But instead, he let out a quiet sigh, looking back down at Rickon.

"You can go again," he said softly, ruffling the boy’s hair. "But only when the Princess says it's safe."

Rickon beamed and immediately ran off toward the keep, his excitement carrying him as fast as his legs could take him. Cregan watched him go, then turned his gaze back to you. You still hadn’t spoken, but your eyes met his, guarded as always.

"I should scold you," he said, his tone measured. "You had no right to take Rickon flying without asking me first."

You straightened, your chin lifting slightly. "He wanted to go. And Silverwing wouldn’t have harmed him."

Cregan nodded, but his expression remained serious. "I know. But he’s still my son. And as much as he may adore dragons, I need to know he’s safe."

The tension hung between you for a moment longer, but Cregan couldn’t help the way his heart softened slightly. Despite everything—despite the constant bickering, the distance between you—he could see that while you might not want this marriage, you cared for Rickon. The way you had taken him flying, giving him the one thing that had brought him so much joy, didn’t go unnoticed.

"Perhaps," Cregan added quietly, his tone softer now, "you don’t want me. But you will be a good mother to Rickon. I can see that."

For a moment, you didn’t respond, your expression unreadable. Then you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "I’ll keep him safe," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan watched you for a long moment before turning and heading back toward Winterfell. The coldness between you two remained, but now there was a small crack in the icy wall that had stood between you since the moment you arrived.

The cold air was sharper here, beyond the walls of Winterfell, biting deep into Cregan��s skin as he led his men through the thick snow-covered wilderness. The northern winds howled, carrying with them the scent of pine and frost, mingled with something far more sinister—the smell of smoke from a Wildling camp. They had been tracking the Wildlings for days now, ever since word came that a raiding party had crossed the Wall, attacking isolated settlements and stealing what little food and supplies they could find before winter’s full grip took hold.

Cregan’s blood thrummed with the familiar tension that came before battle. His breath formed clouds in the cold air, his grip firm on the hilt of his sword as he and his men closed in. They could see the crude campfires in the distance, flickering like beacons in the darkening forest.

"Stay low," Cregan whispered to his men, his voice barely audible above the wind. The Stark bannermen, seasoned and loyal, followed his command without hesitation. They fanned out in a loose line, their cloaks blending into the snowy landscape.

The Wildlings had set up in a small clearing, their crude weapons and fur-lined tents marking them as a desperate group. There were perhaps a dozen of them—armed with spears, axes, and the occasional rusty sword—but they were not to be underestimated. Wildlings were fierce, survivalists hardened by the lands beyond the Wall. This fight would be bloody.

Cregan motioned to his men, and in unison, they surged forward, the snow muffling their approach until they were nearly upon the camp.

The first clash came fast and violent.

Cregan’s sword met the steel of a Wildling’s axe, the sharp clang of metal ringing out into the frigid night. The raiders shouted in surprise, their camp erupting into chaos as the Stark men descended upon them. The Wildlings fought back viciously, their crude weapons swinging wildly, aiming for any vulnerable flesh they could find.

Cregan swung his blade with precision, cleaving through a Wildling’s chest, blood spraying across the snow like ink on parchment. He turned just in time to parry another blow, gritting his teeth as the impact jarred his arm. Around him, the sounds of battle raged—shouts, screams, the wet thud of bodies falling into the snow.

But then, something sharp and hot bit into his side.

Cregan gasped, stumbling back as a Wildling spear pierced his flesh just below his ribs. The pain was immediate and blinding, spreading like fire through his body. His grip faltered on his sword for a moment, but he didn’t let go. With a roar, he swung his blade in a brutal arc, slicing through the man who had struck him. The Wildling crumpled to the ground, but Cregan was already weakening, his vision blurring at the edges.

The fight continued around him, his men cutting down the remaining Wildlings, but every movement Cregan made sent waves of pain crashing through him. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright, even as the blood began to seep through his furs, staining the snow beneath his feet a dark crimson.

At last, the battle was over. The Wildlings lay dead, their bodies scattered across the snow like broken dolls. Cregan’s men stood victorious, though bruised and bloodied themselves.

One of his men, Ser Vayon, rushed over to him, his face pale with worry as he saw the blood. "My lord! You’re wounded."

Cregan waved him off, trying to mask the severity of his injury. "I’ll live," he growled, though his voice was weaker than he intended. "But I can’t make it back as fast as the rest of you. Take the others and ride ahead. Get help."

Ser Vayon hesitated, his eyes darting between Cregan and the rest of the men. "We can carry you—"

"No," Cregan interrupted, his tone firm despite the pain. "I’ll slow you down. If you ride ahead, you’ll reach Winterfell faster. I’ll follow behind." His vision blurred for a moment, and he had to steady himself against a nearby tree. "Go. That’s an order."

Reluctantly, Ser Vayon nodded, glancing back at the other men. "As you command, my lord."

With that, they mounted their horses, casting one last worried glance at him before spurring their mounts and riding off through the snow. Cregan watched them go, the sound of hooves fading into the distance, leaving him alone in the quiet, snow-covered forest.

He took a few shaky steps, but each movement sent a fresh wave of agony through his body. His hand clutched his side where the blood still flowed, staining the white snow beneath his boots. The world around him tilted, and he fell to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He tried to rise, but his strength was failing, his body too weak to carry him any further.

Just as his vision began to swim, he heard a sound—a distant, high-pitched screech that cut through the silence like a knife.

Cregan blinked, his vision blurring as something massive appeared in the sky above him. He squinted through the haze of pain, trying to focus, and then he saw it—Silverwing, her silver-scaled body descending from the clouds like a gleaming specter. The dragon landed with a soft thud, her wings folding as she approached him, her eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Cregan cursed under his breath, trying to wave her off with a weak motion of his hand. "Go on, beast," he muttered, his voice slurred with exhaustion. "I’m not your rider."

But Silverwing ignored him, her massive head lowering as she nudged him gently with her nose. The touch was surprisingly gentle for such a fearsome creature, as if the dragon knew he was on the brink of collapse. She nudged him again, more insistently this time, her warm breath washing over him as if urging him to stand.

Cregan tried to push her away, but his strength was gone. "Damn dragon," he rasped, his body trembling from blood loss. "Leave me."

Silverwing let out a low rumble, her large eyes narrowing as if in disapproval. She nudged him one last time, and when he still didn’t move, she took matters into her own talons. With surprising care, Silverwing wrapped her claws around his body, lifting him effortlessly from the snow.

Cregan groaned, the world spinning around him as Silverwing took flight, the sensation of being carried through the sky both terrifying and surreal. His body was limp in her talons, the wind whipping through his hair as they soared above the treetops, Winterfell a distant shadow on the horizon.

His eyelids grew heavy, the pain in his side fading as numbness took over. The world below him grew smaller, the sky a dark blur above.

As Silverwing’s wings beat rhythmically, the wind howling in his ears, Cregan's consciousness began to slip away, the edges of his vision turning black.

The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was Winterfell’s walls in the distance, growing closer with every beat of Silverwing’s wings. Then, nothing.

Cregan Stark knew no more.

The courtyard of Winterfell was a storm of chaos as you pushed through the throngs of servants and guards, your heart racing, breath short. The cold northern wind stung your face, but you barely felt it. All you could focus on was the sight ahead—Silverwing, her massive silver form crouched low on the snow, her head lowered protectively over a motionless figure sprawled at her feet. You shoved past a startled servant, your voice rising above the din of panic.

"Move aside!" you barked, pushing through the crowd until you finally reached the clearing where Cregan lay, blood staining the snow beneath him, his face pale and ashen.

Silverwing rumbled softly as you approached, her enormous eyes watching you, but she made no move to stop you. Her wings shifted, creating a barrier between the man she had carried home and the gathering onlookers.

Your heart leapt into your throat. The sight of Cregan—your husband, though it had never felt real until this moment—bleeding and unconscious before his own keep sent a surge of fear through you that you hadn’t expected.

"Where is Rickon?" you demanded, whirling around to one of the women standing near the edge of the scene. Rickon’s nanny stepped forward, worry etched on her face.

"He was playing with the other children when we heard the commotion," she said nervously, glancing toward Silverwing. "Should I—?"

"Find him," you interrupted quickly, your voice firmer than it had been in weeks. "Keep him away from here. I don’t want him seeing his father like this."

The woman nodded, clearly relieved to have something to do, and hurried off into the crowd. You turned back toward Cregan just as Maester Kennet knelt beside him, his hands moving with the steady calm of a man who had seen too many battle injuries in his lifetime. His fingers probed at the wound beneath Cregan’s furs, his face grim.

"Will he live?" you asked, unable to keep the edge of desperation from creeping into your voice.

Kennet didn’t look up, his attention still fixed on the blood-soaked gash. "The wound is deep, but he’s strong. If we can stop the bleeding and keep the fever from setting in, he has a chance. But we need to get him inside—now."

Already, several of Cregan’s men were lifting him carefully onto a makeshift stretcher, their faces pale with worry. You followed as they carried him toward the castle, your feet moving without thought. The icy wind cut through your cloak, but you ignored it. The only thing you could focus on was the sight of Cregan’s lifeless form being carried through the halls of Winterfell, his breathing shallow and labored.

As they reached his chambers, the men gently placed him on the large bed, stepping back to allow Maester Kennet to work. You hovered just beyond the bedside, your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides, helplessness gnawing at you. Despite everything—despite the constant arguments, the coldness between you—you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him like this. The stark realization struck you hard, knocking the wind from your lungs.

You didn’t want him to die.

For what felt like hours, Kennet worked over Cregan’s body, stitching the wound with deft hands and applying herbs to stave off infection. You stood nearby, your eyes never leaving Cregan’s pale face. He was so still, too still. The sight of him like this made the cold inside Winterfell seem even more unbearable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kennet finished his work. The room was filled with the scent of medicinal salves and the sharp tang of blood. The old Maester wiped his hands on a cloth and turned to you, exhaustion etched in every line of his face.

"I’ve done all I can for now," he said quietly. "He will need time to heal, but whether he wakes or not depends on his own strength."

You nodded mutely, your throat tight with unspoken fear. "Thank you, Maester," you managed to whisper. Kennet gave a small nod, then gathered his supplies and left the room, leaving you alone with Cregan.

For a long time, you stood there, staring at the man who had become your husband, the man you had fought with, resented, and yet now feared to lose. His breathing was shallow, but steady, the rise and fall of his chest a small reassurance in the overwhelming uncertainty that hung over the room.

Without thinking, you moved closer to the bed, sinking into the chair beside him. Your hand reached out almost instinctively, and before you could stop yourself, your fingers closed around his. His hand was rough and calloused, larger than yours, but in this moment, it felt fragile.

"You stubborn, foolish man," you whispered, your voice breaking as you held onto him. "You always have to be the hero, don’t you?"

Tears stung your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to give in to the fear gnawing at your insides. Instead, you lowered your head, closing your eyes as you prayed softly in Valyrian, the words flowing from your lips in a desperate plea to the gods of your ancestors.

"Grant him strength," you whispered, tightening your grip on his hand. "Give him the will to fight, to wake up."

The room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the warmth of the flames doing little to thaw the cold dread that had settled in your chest. You stayed by his bedside, refusing to leave, your heart pounding with every passing second.

Despite everything, you weren’t ready to let him go. Not yet.

And so, you stayed, waiting, praying, and hoping that Cregan Stark—your husband—would find his way back to you.

Cregan awoke slowly, his mind swimming through the thick fog of pain and disorientation. The world around him was hazy, the room spinning as he tried to make sense of where he was. His body felt heavy, weighed down by a deep, aching fatigue that seemed to seep into his very bones. He blinked, his vision clearing little by little, and as the soft flicker of firelight came into focus, he realized he was back in his chambers, the familiar scent of burning wood and herbs filling the air.

It was then that he noticed her.

You sat beside his bed, your arms crossed, your expression a mixture of concern and irritation. The furrow in your brow deepened as you noticed him stirring, your lips pressed into a thin line that barely masked the relief you must have felt. Despite the heaviness in his limbs and the sharp pain that shot through his side with every breath, Cregan couldn’t help but find it almost... amusing. There you were, the Dragon Princess, always so fierce and untamable, looking as though you were about to scold him, even now.

"You're awake," you said sharply, though there was a tremor of emotion beneath your voice that gave you away.

Cregan tried to sit up, wincing as the pain lanced through his side, but before he could make much progress, you were leaning forward, pushing him back down with a firm hand on his chest.

"Don’t even think about it," you warned, your tone brooking no argument. "Maester Kennet said you shouldn’t move. Not unless you want to tear your stitches and end up back in this bed for even longer."

He lay back with a grunt, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the discomfort. "Well, I wouldn’t want to upset the Maester," he muttered, his voice gravelly from disuse.

You gave him a look that would have wilted lesser men. "You almost died out there, Cregan."

The smirk faded from his face as he looked at you more closely. There was something in your eyes—something raw and unguarded. The irritation, the frustration—it was all there, but beneath it, there was a depth of feeling that surprised him. You were angry, yes, but not just at him. You were angry because you had been scared. Scared of losing him.

The realization hit him like a punch to the chest, and for the first time in years, he felt something stir inside him. It was warmth, not from the fire in the hearth, but from the way you were looking at him—fierce and tender all at once. It had been a long time since anyone had cared for him in that way, and now, seeing it in you—the woman who had resisted him, who had fought him every step of the way—brought a strange sense of peace to his heart.

"You care," he said softly, more to himself than to you.

You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter as you sat back in the chair. "Of course I care. You’re my husband, for better or worse." Your tone was sharp, but the emotion in your eyes betrayed you.

Cregan couldn’t help but chuckle, even though it sent a sharp pain through his side. "I didn’t think you’d admit that so easily."

You glared at him, though the fire in your eyes wasn’t the same angry blaze he was used to. It was different now—softer, though no less fierce. "Don’t flatter yourself," you shot back. "I’m only here because Rickon can’t see you like this. He’d worry too much."

Cregan’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "So, you’re saying you’re here for Rickon, not for me?"

You opened your mouth to retort, but then you stopped, your eyes flicking away for a brief moment before returning to his. "I’m here for both of you," you admitted quietly, your voice losing some of its edge. "You were reckless, Cregan. Going after those Wildlings in your condition was foolish. What were you thinking?"

He sighed, his hand moving slightly to rest against his bandaged side. "I was thinking I needed to protect the North. To protect my people."

"At the cost of your life?" you shot back, incredulous. "Your people need you alive, not bleeding out in the snow."

There was a pause, and then Cregan gave a small nod, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that surprised you. "You’re right," he said, his voice low and steady. "I was reckless. But it’s what I’ve always done. I’ve always put others first. The North, Winterfell, my family... I didn’t think anyone would care if something happened to me."

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken things. You stared at him for a long moment, your expression softening, and for the first time, Cregan saw something shift in you. The walls you had built between you—the ice that had kept you at a distance—continues to crack, again a little more than before.

"I would care," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I may not have wanted this marriage, but I don’t want you dead."

The warmth in his chest grew, spreading through him like a fire kindling to life after a long, cold winter. He had known you were strong, had admired your spirit from the moment Jacaerys spoke of you. But now, seeing you like this—caring, vulnerable in your own way—it was more than he could have ever expected.

"I never thought you’d stay by my side like this," he said, his voice soft, his dark eyes searching your face. "But you did."

You looked away for a moment, your fingers tightening in your lap. "I stayed because I couldn’t leave you like that. No one deserves to be alone when they’re hurt, not even you."

He chuckled softly, wincing at the pain it caused. "You have a strange way of showing concern, Princess."

Your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though it was laced with exasperation. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

"I’ve been told," he muttered, still smiling despite himself.

The tension between you seemed to ease then, the space between you no longer as cold and vast as it once had been. Cregan felt it—the change, subtle but undeniable. And though he knew things wouldn’t be easy, though you would likely bicker again and clash as fiercely as you had before, there was something different now.

For the first time in a long while, Cregan Stark felt something stir inside him—a warmth, a sense of hope. He didn’t know what the future would bring, but for now, he was content with the knowledge that you were here, by his side, and that perhaps, just perhaps, you cared for him more than either of you had realized.

And that was enough.

The godswood was bathed in the soft light of the late afternoon sun, the ancient red leaves of the weirwood tree rustling in the cool breeze. Cregan walked beside you, his stride steady now, fully recovered from his near-fatal wounds. It had been months since that day when Silverwing had saved him from death's grip, and in that time, the distance between you and Cregan had shifted. You still bickered, your sharp words clashing like swords, but there was something different now. Beneath the teasing, the arguments, there was a warmth that neither of you could deny.

"I still think you're insufferably stubborn," you muttered, your arms crossed as you walked along the path beside him. "Charging into battle like a fool—next time, I won’t be sitting by your bedside."

Cregan chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your irritation flare even hotter. "Ah, but you did sit by my bedside," he said, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. "And I seem to recall you staying there for quite some time. Worrying about me, even."

You shot him a sharp glare, though it lacked the real venom it once held. "You should be thanking the gods you survived, not teasing me for caring whether you lived or died."

"I do thank the gods," he replied, his voice quieter now, more serious. "But I also thank you. You stayed with me, Y/N. I haven’t forgotten that."

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you felt the familiar defenses you had built around yourself begin to crumble. You glanced away, your gaze falling on the gnarled roots of the weirwood tree, trying to ignore the way his words made your heart flutter.

"You’re still a fool," you mumbled, though the edge had left your voice.

Cregan stopped walking, and you felt him gently take your hand, pulling you to a halt. You turned to face him, and in the quiet of the godswood, with only the wind rustling through the leaves, you found yourself caught in his gaze—those deep, grey eyes filled with something you hadn’t allowed yourself to see before. There was no frustration, no anger—only warmth, only want.

"And you’re still the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met," he said softly, stepping closer. His hand reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine despite the cold air. "But I wouldn’t want you any other way."

You opened your mouth to retort, to say something biting, but the words never came. Instead, you found yourself closing the distance between you, your breath catching as his hand cupped the side of your face. His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, and the last remnants of the ice between you began to melt.

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, your lips met his.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though both of you were testing the waters. But the moment your mouths touched, the fire that had been simmering beneath your bickering flared to life. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Neither of you spoke; there were no more words left to be said. The cold air around you seemed to disappear, muted by the heat that surged between you. His lips were warm and insistent, his body pressed against yours with a need you hadn’t known you could feel.

Without breaking the kiss, Cregan’s hands moved to the ties of your cloak, loosening them with deft fingers. You tugged at his own furs, pushing them from his shoulders, and soon the cold was biting at your exposed skin, but you didn’t care. And neither did he. The warmth of your body, of your fire, was all that mattered to him now.

Your cloak fell to the ground, forgotten among the roots of the weirwood, and Cregan’s hands were on you, pulling at the fastenings of your gown. You gasped as the cold air hit your bare skin, but his hands were there to chase it away, his touch rough and gentle all at once. You tugged at his tunic, eager to feel his skin beneath your hands, and when he pulled it over his head, you marveled at the strength of him, the way his muscles rippled beneath the scars and callouses of a warrior.

Before long, the two of you were bare to the elements, the cold air forgotten as he lowered you gently to the ground. The soft moss beneath you was cool, but the fire in your veins made it bearable. Cregan’s body hovered over yours, his eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice husky with desire, but still full of the respect that had always been there beneath your bickering. "I won’t force this, Y/N."

You stared up at him, your heart racing, and for the first time, you felt no resistance. No walls, no barriers. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "I’m sure."

With that, he kissed you again, slow and deep, as his body pressed gently against yours. His hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, trailing down your thighs, sending sparks of heat through your entire being. When he finally entered you, it was with a slow, deliberate tenderness, his eyes never leaving yours.

The brief flash of pain as he broke your maidenhead made you wince, but he was there, soothing it with soft kisses, his hand tangled in your hair. And then, as the discomfort began to fade, the pleasure took its place, warm and insistent.

You moved against him, your body finding a rhythm as you urged him on with the softest of moans, your hands gripping his shoulders, your legs wrapping around him. His breath came in ragged gasps, his control slipping as he gave in to the fire between you, the primal, unspoken connection that had been building for months.

The cold wind whispered through the trees, but it could not reach you. The warmth of your bodies, entwined beneath the ancient weirwood, was enough to drive it away. Cregan’s movements grew more intense, his lips never straying far from yours, his hands gripping you as though he feared you might vanish.

Your moans mixed with his groans, the air between you thick with the sounds of your love-making, the passion that had been hidden behind walls of ice and words for so long. Every touch, every thrust, brought you closer to a place neither of you had been before, and when the moment came—when your bodies finally reached the peak—you clung to him, your breath ragged, your body trembling with the force of it.

He followed you over the edge moments later, his own release marked by a soft growl that sent shivers down your spine. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the wind quieting, the godswood holding its breath as the two of you lay entwined, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

Cregan didn’t move, didn’t pull away. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered your name. You closed your eyes, letting the weight of the moment settle over you, your heart still racing from the intensity of it all.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt truly warm.

The day was crisp and clear, the sky a bright blue canvas that stretched out endlessly above Winterfell. Silverwing, her silver scales shimmering in the afternoon sun, stood in the godswood, shifting her weight restlessly, her wings fluttering with barely-contained excitement. You stood beside her, hands on your hips, grinning as you watched Cregan approach, his expression a mix of wariness and resignation.

"You look like you're marching to your execution," you teased, unable to hide the amusement in your voice. Silverwing gave a low, eager rumble, her eyes fixed on Cregan as though she sensed his hesitation and found it endlessly amusing.

Cregan, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share Silverwing’s enthusiasm—or yours, for that matter. He slowed his approach, eyes narrowing at the massive dragon before him. "I thought I was done with near-death experiences for a while," he muttered, giving you a sideways glance. "But here I am, about to climb on the back of something that could roast me alive."

You chuckled, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his chest. "Oh, don’t be such a Stark about it. Silverwing wouldn’t dream of harming you—not as long as I’m here." You flashed him a grin, though you could tell from the way his jaw tightened that he wasn’t quite convinced.

"I suppose that’s supposed to reassure me?" he asked, glancing up at Silverwing’s massive head as she tilted it curiously toward him.

"Well, it should," you said, rolling your eyes playfully. "Besides, she likes you. Remember how she likes to nudge you? If a dragon doesn’t like you, trust me, you’ll know."

Cregan swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back to Silverwing’s gleaming teeth. "Comforting."

You laughed, grabbing his hand and tugging him closer to Silverwing, whose tail flicked impatiently behind her. "Come on, brave Lord of Winterfell. It’s not every day you get to ride a dragon. You might even enjoy it."

"I highly doubt that," Cregan grumbled, though he allowed you to lead him closer.

When you reached Silverwing’s side, you placed a hand on her flank, feeling the familiar warmth of her scales beneath your palm. The dragon lowered herself slightly, making it easier for you to mount. You turned to Cregan, your smile widening at the sight of him standing there, arms crossed, clearly trying to mask his discomfort.

"Up you go," you said brightly, giving him a playful shove toward Silverwing’s side. "Ladies first."

He shot you a look that could have frozen the Wall, but with a resigned sigh, he began to clamber up the dragon’s side, his movements careful and deliberate. You followed him, slipping easily into the saddle behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist to keep both of you secure.

"You’re going to want to hold on tight," you whispered into his ear, your voice laced with mischief. "Silverwing can be...enthusiastic."

"Great," Cregan muttered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the saddle. "Just what I needed to hear."

Silverwing, sensing the shift in your posture, gave an eager roar, her wings unfurling in preparation for takeoff. The wind stirred around you, and you felt Cregan tense beneath your arms, his muscles coiled with nervous energy.

"Here we go!" you called out, laughing as Silverwing leaped into the sky with a powerful beat of her wings.

The ground fell away beneath you in an instant, the cold wind rushing past as Silverwing soared higher and higher. Cregan let out a startled curse, gripping the saddle with both hands as if his life depended on it, while you laughed, the exhilaration of flight filling you with a wild sense of freedom.

"Relax, Cregan!" you shouted over the wind, leaning into him. "You’re not going to fall!"

"I’d rather not test that theory!" he shot back, his voice strained as Silverwing dipped suddenly, her wings cutting through the air with effortless grace.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, leaning your chin on his shoulder as the dragon steadied herself, gliding smoothly over the landscape. "See? It’s not so bad, is it?"

Cregan didn’t respond immediately, though you could feel the tension in his body slowly start to ease as the flight became less of a frantic rush and more of a smooth ride. The wind was cold but invigorating, and beneath you, Silverwing hummed contentedly, clearly enjoying the chance to stretch her wings with both of you on her back.

"Alright," Cregan finally admitted, his voice quieter now, though still laced with reluctance. "Maybe it’s not as terrifying as I thought."

You grinned, tightening your arms around him as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. "See? I told you. You’re a natural dragonrider."

"Let’s not go that far," he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a smile.

For a while, you soared together in silence, the vast expanse of the North stretching out beneath you—white fields, dark forests, and the distant peaks of mountains all bathed in the pale winter light. Cregan relaxed more with each passing moment, his breath steadying, though he still gripped the saddle firmly. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your touch, but it wasn’t the frantic rhythm of fear anymore. It was something else—something closer to excitement.

After a while, you guided Silverwing back toward Winterfell, and as the dragon swooped low over the godswood once more, you couldn’t help but tease him again. "I think you might have even enjoyed that a little."

Cregan shook his head, though there was a faint laugh in his voice. "Enjoyed? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Princess. I’m still deciding if I’ll ever do this again."

You smirked as Silverwing touched down with a graceful thud, her wings folding as she lowered herself to the ground. You dismounted easily, then turned to help Cregan down, though he shot you a look as if to say he didn’t need the help.

"I’ll give you credit for bravery," you said, watching as he finally stood on solid ground again. "You didn’t scream once."

"That’s because I was too busy clinging for dear life," Cregan muttered, though his lips quirked in a smile. "But I’m alive, aren’t I? That’s something."

You laughed, stepping closer and placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "You did well. Maybe you’re more suited for the sky than you thought."

He looked down at you, his expression softening as he rested his hand over yours. "Maybe. But for now, I think I’ll leave the flying to you."

You grinned, leaning up to kiss him softly. "Suit yourself. But you’re always welcome to join me."

Cregan chuckled, pulling you closer. "We’ll see about that. But if Silverwing’s happy, I suppose I’ll consider it."

Silverwing let out a soft, approving rumble behind you, and you couldn’t help but smile. "I think she likes having you around."

"Gods help me," Cregan muttered, though there was warmth in his eyes that told you he didn’t really mind.

And as the two of you stood there, with Silverwing watching over you, the cold air seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of your shared laughter and the fire you had ignited between you.

[noyzinerd]

Sterek Rival Lawyers AU

It's A (Court) Date

Imagine, high-class, Ivy League, hot-shot, attorney Derek comes back from New York to the family firm to take over as partners with his sister after his parents decide to step down. He may not be on the level of his mother yet, but he's cut his teeth against Wall Street wolves and ruthless white-collar sharks. Derek's more than proved himself, so he just can't fathom these small criminal court cases his family is making him take "before he's truly ready" to be a part of the family business.

Enter in his first case. Right out the gate, the state assigned defense is, not only late to court, but also arrives in a flurry of limbs and papers, tripping all over himself, and profusely apologizing to the room as a whole. "Sorry! Sorry! Car trouble!"

The guy is out of breath, tie crooked and hair a mess. It makes Derek wrinkle his nose at the unprofessionalism and the blatant disrespect to everyone's valuable time.

The presiding judge, the Honorable Ms. Lydia Martin, only sighs a heavy sigh, as if this sight is nothing new, and says "Mr. Stilinski, I suggest you don't let it happen again."

Derek is honestly getting annoyed by how easy this is going to be. He could've been doing literally anything else right about now rather than being here going against a common rent-a-lawyer with some Podunk community-college degree. The opening statement for the defense is laughably inept. Full of nervous stuttering, backtracking, running tangents, and babbling. He's still apologizing, trying to assure the jury that he's just having an off-day today.

It's embarrassing to watch.

Nonetheless, Derek goes through the motions, practiced and poised. Examines all the evidence, presenting times and dates, prior arrest records, the works.

During this time, Mr. Stilinski is frantically (and VERY LOUDLY) flitting through a cartoonishly large stack of papers and whispering to his client. Derek has to fight to grit his teeth through his presentation.

Finally, it's time for Mr. Stilinski to cross-examine Derek's client and, unbeknownst to him, the beginning of Derek's long, long spiral of madness for the rest of his career.

"Judge Martin, I would like to move to have this case thrown out."

"Oh?" asks Judge Martin. For some reason, there's an amused smirk, almost fond, tugging at her lips "On what grounds?"

A giddy, almost manic, grin takes over the defense attorney's face just then. "On the grounds that the prosecution's client is full of bullshit."

The judge rolls her eyes and an exasperated "Stiles," slips from her lips, seemingly against her will. (Derek's not really surprised by the familiarity between the two of them. With how often state-assigned lawyers are called to the courtroom on small cases, it wouldn't be too big of a leap to suggest they might be chummy.)

"Respectfully, of course." Mr. Stilinski--er Stiles?--winks back at her.

"Objection. Your honor, this is ridiculous."

"Overruled. Make your point, Stilinski."

"Mr. Davis says he saw my client at 12:30 P.M., on August 4th, attempting to take his back-right hubcap outside his apartment. Mr. Davis' apartment complex at that time, on that particular day, would have cast a huge shadow over the back lot as evidenced by the gaudy sundial-art-installation outside the courthouse. Meanwhile, my client's picture, when taken in for questioning, has a sunburn on the entire right side of his face. This would corroborate Mr. Lyle's story of walking home alone, down the upper, unshaded side of Elmore Street, during one of the hottest days of the year, for an hour straight. Also, the fact that Mr. Davis has no realistic idea how long it would actually take a person to steal a hubcap should be evidence enough."

"Uh-huh. And this wouldn't happen to be something you've ever had any expertise in, would it, counsel?"

"I plead the 5th."

And just like that, Derek's case is thrown out so quick, he's still reeling about it all the way home.

For the next two years, this becomes Derek's life. This man, this Stiles Stilinski, keeps showing up like a whirlwind and absolutely puts him in his paces.

Stiles, as he insists Derek call him, is a powerhouse. Relentless and unstoppable. That mouth can filibuster for literal hours (which, for those unfamiliar, is when someone legally cannot be forced to give up their time on the floor as long as they can keep talking), that brain quick as a whip, with a hunger for research, a mastery of the English language svelte enough to trip up even the most well-rehearsed lie, and an attention to detail like nothing Derek has ever witnessed before. It's like he knows every law inside and out. Lives it. Breathes it. It's like he had been raised on the law his whole life. Not only that, it's like Stiles enjoys it. Every case is a new game to get excited about.

All of it makes Derek's blood boil.

However, it's not always about losing to Stiles all the time, because, honestly, that might be less humiliating.

In truth, when faced against Stiles, Derek's bound to win about 60% of the time. Out of that 60%, only 5% of those wins actually feel earned. As for the other 55%?

He knows Stiles is letting him win.

Derek can't prove it, but he knows the asshole is holding back on purpose nearly half the time. Knowing that Stiles could have beaten him if he wanted to, but didn't, is somehow more frustrating than just losing.

He hates Stiles.

He hates that the guy is so chipper and playful all the damn time. He hates that Stiles could probably work at any firm he wanted, could make enough money to get a decent car that doesn't shit out all the time, could buy a proper-fitting suit, but instead CHOOSES to stay here "watching out for the little guy", as he so put it.

He hates that facing Stiles in court is the most challenged, the most motivated he's ever felt in his entire life. He hates that Stiles brings out in him the spark of passion and drive Derek had long thought had died. He hates that Stiles always tries to banter with him during recess or whenever they have to exchange evidence.

He hates finding out that Stiles only loses cases on purpose when his endless amounts of research points to the defendant actually being guilty of horrendous crimes, because Stiles is a good fucking person.

He hates Stiles' constant teasing and he hates that Stiles is somehow able to bring Derek down to his childish level to tease back. He hates how much he looks forward to court-dates with Stiles now. He hates being invited out by Stiles over and over to grab a bite together after a long day, as if Stiles hasn't been wiping the floor with him on this case for the last month. He hates it even more that he always accepts and that now they have their own designated booth at the diner across the street. Derek's so unbelievably frustrated, it makes him want to bite Stiles at the neck just to hear that smartass mouth squeal.

"Hey, I ever tell you I was thinking of quitting before you arrived?" Stiles asks one night as they're walking to their cars.

Derek's head immediately snaps to him at that. "What?"

Stiles smiles distantly at the thought. "Oh, yeah. Things had started feeling like being trapped in a cubicle, y'know? There wasn't any challenge in it anymore."

"What made you stay?"

"Well...you did. You were the first, serious competition I'd faced in a while. It wasn't a matter of winning just to win, anymore. Going against you always reminded me of the reason why it was important for me to win. It gave me stakes, because now there was an actual chance I could lose and an innocent person could go to jail. You, I don't know, kinda reignited my passion for fighting the good fight, I guess."

Derek can feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. He wants to say 'You did the same for me!' He wants to tell Stiles that he didn't think his life could ever be this fun or happy or messy or chaotic or exhilarating or challenging or fulfilling before coming to Beacon Hills.

But just as Derek goes to open his mouth to sing Stiles' praises, he instead finds himself roughly shoving him up against the Camaro and biting hungrily at that mouth and tongue that's been the bane of his existence. There's a surprised little squeak that Derek quickly swallows up, but it isn't long before they're both tearing at each others' clothes and fucking each other dirty in the backseat of Derek's car.

What's crazy is, after they get together, nothing in their careers really changes. The only difference is now they get to fuck each others' brains out after an intense battle in court (and the sound Stiles makes when Derek bites him is exactly what he always imagined it would sound like). They still face against each other on opposite sides in court. They still give it everything they got, no conceding even if they are dating now. Not to mention, Derek wouldn't dream of tempting Stiles over to his firm. Not when he knows Stiles is at his best staying where he's at.

The day Derek's family finally decides it's time for him to take over the firm with Laura is the best day of his and Stiles' lives.

Not only does Derek tell them he's declining, he hires Stiles as his attorney to negotiate terms against his entire family of well-seasoned lawyers.

The entire month-long negotiation results in Derek, not saying a single word, but absolutely beaming as he watches his boyfriend run circles around his mother, his father, his uncle, and both of his sisters on contracts. It's so unbelievably hot, they're banging on whatever flat surface they can get their hands on every time they leave the boardroom. There's even one very memorable blowjob in the empty hall outside the boardroom when Stiles somehow manages to get Peter to agree to a (most likely illegal) clause dictating the firm will pay Stiles a finder's fee for any pro-bono case Stiles takes on outside of Beacon Hills that strikes his fancy.

And, no one says it, but they all know Derek definitely, 100%, dragged his own firm through this negotiation just to show off how incredible Stiles is to his family and preen about it.

--

Fast-forward, Derek is going to be in the audience for the first time for one of Stiles' cases.

While waiting in the hall, Derek sees a familiar face from his New York days. The prosecution has hired the eighth best lawyer money can get, Jackson Whittemore. He's sporting a Rolex, sunglasses indoors, and the face of someone who thinks he's above literally every other person in town.

Well, at least until he sees Derek.

For some reason, Jackson seems to think Derek is all the way out in the middle of nowhere to 'watch a master at work' (which...well...is technically true...).

As Derek goes to sit in the audience, Jackson tells him in passing, "This'll be over so fast, probably won't even get a chance to learn the other guy's name."

Derek chuckles and says back, "Ooh, buddy, you have no idea."

Before Jackson can think more on that, a whirlwind of limbs and papers suddenly hurls through the doors.

Derek sits back, gets comfy, and waits eagerly for the show to begin.

My first moodboard. Hope you enjoy. AU based on a discussion with @casually-eat-my-soul (I suggest checking out their version). This was kind of like a divergence from that (the brain juices just started flowing).

[deathbxnny]

Genshin men meeting you, their idol, for the first time. | Lyney, Kinich, Childe x Gn!Reader

The idea came to me randomly, so enjoy! (I've been freed from my writers block wooo-)

Content: Reader is a famous person, Childe going a little feral, vague mentions of flirting, Ajaw being Ajaw, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》LYNEY

You were a famous magician who did shows all over Teyvat. Everyone knew of you and your incredible talent, making you an international star to all. No matter where you went, diehard fans would always come to see your breathtaking magic tricks with wide, sparkling eyes. You were able to bewitch the crowd with the most simplest moves, a graceful smile always on your beautiful face as you did so.

And when you finally came around to hold a show in the grand theaters of Fountaine, Lyney had the chance to meet you backstage in between your sets. Despite the fact that he should have seen you as competition considering his own passion in the profession, he couldn't help but watch you with that same awe-struck expression. It was a privilege to meet you, one he wouldn't pass up for anything.

His heart was beating against his chest wildly, yet he still pushed through with the greeting he had gone over and over again in his mind. He wanted to impress you after all. Taking your hand in his, he kissed the back of it, a sly and playful glint in his eyes. "It is an honor to meet you." He hums before pulling a rainbow rose from behind your ear skillfully and holding it out to you, secretly relishing in the giggle you gave him. Ignoring his sibling's deadpan from behind him, he held out his arm to you. "May I show you around? This is your first time in Fountaine... and I can assure you that I'm the best guide you'll find. Consider it a favor amongst like-minded magicians such as ourselves!"

His nervousness never shows, and his smile never falters. This was perhaps the best show he had to put on in his life... but when you gratefully accepted his invitation, he felt his worries melt away, glad he didn't come off as a desperate fan.

》KINICH

He tried to stay indifferent when he was suddenly standing in front of one of the most legendary warriors Natlan had ever seen, which just happened to be you. He felt his hands become clamy, arms tightly crossed across his chest, whilst he watched you speak with Mualani about the latest news regarding their annual tournament. Attempting to simply stay out of your line of sight in fear of embarrassing himself, he leaned against the wall hidden in the shadows, content with being in your close proximity... until Ajaw caught onto what he was attempting to do.

"Ohoho... are you trying to crawl into a hole and disappear like the little worm you are?" He giggled evilly, floating around the deadpanning man, who was trying to ignore him like always. But Ajaw wasn't having it. If there was something he lived for, then it was the suffering of his dearest companion. "You know... I think you should go talk to them! Actually, let me help you out since I'm feeling oh-so nice today!" Kinich's eyes widened slightly, his lips parting to hiss out a warning, but the creature was too quick to stop, filled with determination to cause chaos.

Following after him with quick steps, Kinich was quick to banish him before he could reach you. This meant, however, that he was now standing in front of you and Mualani. Heat crawled up his neck and cheeks, as his friend happily introduced him to you, seemingly not having noticed the doom that had nearly hit you earlier. But his slightly panicked mind stilled when he saw you give him a kind smile. "Ah, I think I know you... or well, I've heard of you, at least." You said, and he felt himself take a shaky breath in relief and wonder.

Perhaps Ajaw had actually done something nice for once... which would definitely enrage him once he was released from his imprisonment.

》CHILDE

Oh boy... you knew him way before you met him, that's for sure. Mainly because he was hellbent on fighting you at least once. He didn't care if he lost or won either. It was all the same to him, as long as you were the one to press the blade of your sword against his neck. And that alone made you often just outright avoid him, whenever you were in the motherland for business. You were a well-known assasin and agent for the first Harbinger, serving directly under him, which, of course, brought you great strength that Childe wanted to experience desperately. He needed to know if the rumors about your skills were true or not.

And unfortunately for you, he finally was able to get his deepest wish fulfilled when you accidentally dared to linger around the courtyard for way longer than you should have. "Please... fight me in a duel at least once!" He called out, knowing he has you cornered now. Despite him idolizing you greatly, you could tell his cocky pride and ego made him think he was an equal to you. Or perhaps that was just how things appeared to be. He was an unreadable force of energy that admittedly had caught your interest a while ago.

"Will you finally leave me be, if I do?" You asked after a moment of pondering silence, and the man just gave you a smirk, his dead eyes burning with determination you had never seen before. "Let's let our blades decide that." Chuckling at his response, you unsheathed your sword and faced him with a sigh.

This is not how people usually approach their idols... but you supposed that nothing was normal in the place you called home.

[bookwormjust]

First Meeting as High Lady of Autumn (established relationship Eris)

The grand meeting hall is aglow with the golden hues of autumn, the soft amber light of the chandeliers casting warm shadows across the marble floor. You walk beside Eris, your mate and the High Lord of the Autumn Court, your arm lightly hooked through his as you both make your way toward the grand chamber where the other High Lords and Ladies are already gathered.

As the High Lady of Autumn, this is your first time attending one of the High Lord meetings since your mating bond became public, and it’s a historic moment—for you, for your court, and for your role at Eris’s side. You’ve chosen to wear a gown in the deep, fiery reds and golds of autumn, matching the regal flame of Eris’s hair, your crown delicately resting upon your head, its design echoing the intricate leaves and vines of your court’s forests.

Eris, as ever, is the picture of confidence and power, his amber eyes sharp and calculating, yet softening every time they glance in your direction. The hounds have been left to guard the estate, but you feel their absence like a quiet hum at your back, knowing they are always watching.

The doors open to reveal the other High Lords and Ladies seated at a large round table. You spot familiar faces instantly: Rhysand and Feyre of the Night Court, their beauty and grace undeniable, their powerful bond clear in the way they exchange glances. To the side, there’s Cassian and Azriel, flanking Rhys like shadow and flame. You’ve heard much about them, warriors as fierce as they are loyal.

To the right, you see Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court, his golden skin and brilliant smile making him stand out even in such a powerful gathering. Beside him, Thesan of the Dawn Court, his expression serene, a quiet strength emanating from him.

Tarquin of the Summer Court nods in greeting, his calm, ocean-blue eyes studying you with curiosity. Beron, the former High Lord of Autumn, would have once looked upon him with disdain. But here, now, with Eris at your side, the dynamics are changing.

And then there’s Tamlin, the High Lord of the Spring Court, his green eyes clouded with something unreadable as he watches you and Eris approach. You can feel the tension in the air between him and the others, but you hold your head high, unwilling to be affected by whatever history lingers between these courts.

Rhysand is the first to rise, offering a nod of respect toward both you and Eris. "Eris," he says, his voice smooth as silk, "and the High Lady of Autumn. It’s an honor to finally meet you in person." His violet eyes flicker to you, an almost imperceptible smile curling his lips as Feyre rises beside him, extending her hand toward you in greeting.

“Welcome,” Feyre says, her voice warm and genuine. “It’s rare for us to meet a new High Lady. Autumn Court is fortunate to have you.”

You take her hand, smiling back, feeling the weight of your title sink in. "Thank you, High Lady. It’s an honor to stand here with all of you."

Eris stands close beside you, his hand resting lightly on your back, a show of support and affection that doesn’t go unnoticed by the others. He’s always been possessive of you, fiercely protective, but today he radiates pride—pride in his court, in you.

As the others rise in acknowledgment, you feel their gazes appraising you. Helion, ever the flirt, gives you a charming smile, his gaze lingering on you in admiration. "High Lady of Autumn," he muses, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. "I do love the warmth of Autumn. Perhaps we can exchange court visits sometime soon."

Eris stiffens beside you, but you flash Helion a polite smile, unbothered. "Perhaps," you reply diplomatically, feeling Eris’s hand tighten protectively around you.

Thesan greets you with quiet respect, his demeanor gentle but dignified. "It is good to see Autumn Court thriving under your leadership," he says, his words carrying a weight of meaning as he acknowledges both you and Eris.

Tarquin offers a small, genuine smile, his voice as calm as the sea. "We look forward to working with you. Autumn and Summer have not always seen eye to eye, but I hope we can change that."

You nod, appreciating the sincerity in his words. "That is my hope as well, High Lord."

Tamlin remains seated, his eyes flicking between you and Eris. There's a tension there, a heaviness in the way he regards Eris, but he says nothing, only offering you a curt nod. You sense the unease radiating from him but choose to ignore it. Today isn’t about old grudges or tensions; it’s about forging new alliances.

The room feels electric with power as the meeting begins, but through it all, you feel Eris’s unwavering presence beside you, his pride in you as his equal, his partner, his mate. You know there will be challenges ahead—leading a court, especially one as complex as Autumn, is no easy task. But with Eris by your side, his hounds guarding your path, and the strength of the bond you share, you feel ready.

The meeting begins, but you catch Feyre’s eye across the table, and she offers you a subtle, understanding smile—one High Lady to another. In that moment, you realize you’re not alone. You’re part of something bigger now, part of this ancient, powerful world of courts and alliances, and though the road may be long and filled with obstacles, you’re more than ready to face it.

You are the High Lady of Autumn, and the fire of your court burns brighter than ever.

[raguiras]

What's this?! Spade of Storms is canon in the game now?! /j

Finally finished this Spade of Storms WIP from early June 😅 Click for better quality!

Reblogs are very appreciated ~

「 Bonus versions & ship ramble below the cut! 」

♤ More Deuce x Allen: ♤

SHIP INTRO: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4

OTHER ART: 1

Ship blog: @spade-of-storms

♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤

♤ Ship ramble ♤

There are many reasons why Allen and Deuce are perfect for each other (list), but a fair share of said reasons are rooted in or can be traced back to one massive, highly important core point: these two have extremely similar experiences in a reversed order.

Said experiences shaped their personalities, goals, insecurities and "masks" — all of which are highly important factors for Deuce and Allen's relationship development.

So today, I'll be talking about how their backstories influence Allen and Deuce's relationship.

Something I noticed is that if Spade of Storms weren't dating, they'd pretty much end up experiencing at least parts of each other's backstory... and end up in a super miserable state.

Allen is a former honor student who overworked himself to the point of burning out, all because he was a people pleaser and his stellar grades still weren't enough for his teachers who expected nothing but the absolute best from him. Additionally, he had to suppress his true self and interests because he was expected to be a model student in every single way, and anger was something only "bad" kids felt.

Sounds familiar? Deuce is unknowingly on the path to end up in the same situation, except in his case, the fact that he can't seem to achieve better grades no matter what causes him even more distress. If he actually ended up becoming a honor student, Deuce would experience a ton of additional pressure, not to mention that he's already struggling to hide the delinquent tendencies that are a fundamental part of his true personality... Sure, "honor student" sounds like a nice and admirable title to have — but the reality behind it is cruel, and Deuce isn't aware of that yet.

Which is why I gave him Allen.

A large part of Allen's trauma is rooted in his past as a honor student and the crushing expectations people (including himself) threw at him, and he desperately wants Deuce to watch out for himself and approach his goal of becoming a honor student carefully and logically rather than bite off more than he can chew and end up drowning in even more pressure, self-suppression and insecurities. Allen doesn't want Deuce to experience all the negative sides of being a honor student and instead supports the Heartslabyul student's goals by working towards them with a pace appropriate for Deuce, helping him study through actually unique methods specifically tailored for Deuce, and — most importantly — giving Deuce a safe and healthy environment where he can be his 100% authentic self and learn how to properly get his impulsiveness under control at the same time.

And the other way around? How does Deuce's past help Allen?

Deuce quit being a delinquent because it not only disappointed his mom, but also caused him a lot of trouble and massively stained his reputation. While Allen can handle his own delinquent tendencies just fine on the outside, his anger is actually much worse than Deuce's, not to mention that he has incredibly violent fantasies about the people he can't stand...

So far, Allen hasn't done anything bad. But Deuce, despite being a delinquent at heart himself, is able to calmly remind Allen to not do anything he might end up regretting or that might stain his reputation, especially since this is a major fear of Allen's. Deuce's worries and loving way manage to keep Allen in check, no matter how strong the Ramshackle student's hatred for society grows.

♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎

Now, HOW exactly are they able to help each other grow? WHY did they form intimate levels of trust to begin with? And especially, why can Allen actually efficiently help Deuce in the first place when nobody else can?

All will be revealed in the next issue Spade of Storms explanation post >:)

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace Thank you for your beautiful comments! And for the ones that gave me ideas, trust me, I'm taking them into account ;)

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 (You're here) , PART 9

A little more of "The Dragon's Call"

Arthur: (at the feast waiting anxiously because Merlin is supposed to save him from "Lady Helen" to become his servant today and he isn't there yet)

Uther: Are you alright, Arthur?

Arthur: (too quickly) Yeah, right, excelent, never better.

Uther: You've been acting strange lately.

Arthur: (thinking) Well it's not easy to act normal around your dead father and your dead sister who wanted you dead. (says) I just haven't been sleeping well. I had... nightmares. Very long nightmares.

Uther: I see... (Thinking) I hope Morgana's condition isn't contagious.

Merlin: (Finally arrives with Gaius at the feast)

Arthur: (turns and his eyes find Merlin's almost immediately)

Merlin: (Thinking, while he looks at Arthur in the distance) Why is he looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?

Arthur: (Noticing Merlin is without his neckerchief, and he is so young and so beautiful, and he doesn't have his neckerchief on!) Gods have mercy!

Morgana: (enters in her breathtaking dress)

Merlin: (stares at her, but with a mix of longing and guilt)

Gwen: She looks great, doesn't she?

Merlin: (smiling sadly) Yeah...

Gwen: Some people are just born to be queen.

Merlin: (almost shouting) NO!

Gwen: There's no need to sound so disturbed.

Merlin: (composing himself) I'm sorry just... I think she could do better than Arthur that's all. (Thinking) And with someone that is not her brother.

Gwen: He's not so bad.

Merlin: (confused cause Gwen was supposed to agree with him) What do you mean? He was bullying a servant only a few days ago!

Gwen: I remmember. You confronted him about it.

Merlin: See? A total prat.

Gwen: And he also recognised his mistake and apologised. And he didn't arrest you for insulting him in front of his knights though that's technically treason.

Merlin: Okay, maybe not a total prat, but still a prat. (Thinking, worried) He was too nice indeed. Perhaps I was too harsh on him this time?

Morgana: (seeing Arthur is watching in Merlin and Gwen's direction) Have your eye on someone?

Arthur: (Cold) No.

Morgana: (playfully) Is it Gwen? or perhaps-

Arthur: Let's sit. Lady Helen will arrive at any moment (goes to his sit)

Morgana: ... Sure (thinking, while she goes to her sit) What's wrong with him?

Uther: (making an announcement) We have enjoyed 20 years of piece and prosperity....

Arthur: (thinking, resentfully) 20 years of genocide and lies.

Uther: ...It has brought to the kingdom and myself many pleasures but few can compare to the honor of introducing Lady Helen of Mora.

Lady Helen: (enters while people clap)

Arthur: (looks at Merlin in the distance)

Merlin: (very concentrated with his eyes on the chandelier, waiting for lady Helen to stand under it)

Arthur: (smiling to himself, thinking) So that's how you did it.

Everyone falls asleep, except for Arthur who does feel sleepy but is still slightly awake for some reason, so he gets to witness when all the room is filled with spiderwebs and Merlin uses his magic to make the chandelier fall over Helen, who is soon reveal to be Mary Collins.

Arthur: (confused) What... (thinking) Why didn't I fall completely asleep?

Merlin: (whose magic hasn't been able to freeze time since he traveled back in time, but he doesn't know why) Come on, come on! (Tries again to stop time but doesn't work) Damn it! (Shouts and runs to Arthur) ARTHUR!

Mary Collins: (throws the knife at Arthur)

Merlin: (covers Arthur with his body on time and the knife stabs his back)

Arthur: (horrified) NO! (Holding Merlin as they fall to the floor) No, no, no, no! You idiot, what were you thinking?!

Gaius: (running to Merlin) Merlin!

Uther: Who is this?

Gaius: My ward. (checks Merlin) We need to move him to my tower as carefully and quickly as possible. I can't pull the knife out here, he'll bleed to death.

Merlin: (smiling weakely at Arthur) I did it. (Tears of happiness) I did... (Starts closing his eyes).

Arthur: (panic mode) No! don't you dare die on me! (carries him as Gaius instructed) You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay. Stay with me (thinking) Please, don't leave me again. I just got you back. I can't lose you again.

Time skip. Merlin wakes up in Gaius's tower and with his wound bandaged. The knife didn't puncture anything important, but apparently the blade was poisoned. Fortunately, it was a pretty common one and Gaius took care of it rather quickly. Gaius scolds him for scaring him as expected but then hugs him gently and tells him he must not do any effort for at least 2 weeks and rest. Just as Gaius leaves for some herbs, Arthur enters to check on him.

Arthur: Better do as he says. I can't have my personal manservant injuring himself.

Merlin: Personal manservant?

Arthur: My father, the king, decided to reward you for saving my life by granting you a place at the royal household.

Merlin: (happy inside, but pretending to be annoyed) As your personal manservant? Couldn't he just give me gold or something?

Arthur: (playing along) Most would consider it a great honor.

Merlin: Well, I'm not like most people.

Arthur: (laughs a little) You certainly aren't. (Gets close and checks him out little, cause he's never seen Merlin without a shirt before and damn it! is hard not to stare, but as soon as his eyes land on the bandage, he turns serious) What you did was very brave... and stupid. You shouldn't have done that.

Merlin: (still mocking) If that's your way to say "Thank you for saving my life", well, yeah, I'm starting to regret saving your royal ass.

Arthur: I'm serious. Now you're my manservant, therefore my responsability and my concern. You're not allowed to put yourself in harms way, ever, not even for me. (Thinking) specially for me.

Merlin: (bewildered at the sudden concern) Is that a rule?

Arthur: It is now. Do I make myself clear?

Merlin: (touched, he smiles) Yes, my lord. (Thinking) I would die for you a hundred times over.

Arthur: (Thinking, a wave of nostalgia invading him) "My lord"... how much I missed that. (says) Good. Now get some rest (starts leaving, but stops and turns) And Merlin.

Merlin: Yes?

Arthur: Thank you for saving my life. (Makes a small bow, smiles and leaves)

Merlin: ...

Merlin: Did he just bow to me?!! 😨

...

Some explanation: Arthur is now, not immune, but a little more resistant to some mind spells since his mind is from the future and has already passed for all those spells before. Merlin's magic is kind of weak, because the ritual Arthur did used the magic from the tree, therefore Merlin's magic to do the time travel thing, so lets say his magic is a little exhausted and needs recovering, but it just last a few days.

[iliketangerines]

Hey!! I would like to request a fic about Liu Kang (film 2021) with a fem reader who is very shy and every time he tries to talk to her, the girl runs away with her face all flushed and our boy Liu Kang doesn't understand why until Cole gives a hint of what's going on...

cold as stone

a/n: sorry guys, i've got absorbed into reading the scum-villain's self-saving system

pairing: liu kang x gn!reader

warnings: not proofread

you confused Liu Kang to no extent, brash and bold and brave, a possessor of excellent fighting skills, a charm that rivals Johnny Cage, a laugh that would make the wind jealous

but only if you were not around him

Kung Lao had brought you to the mountains months ago when he had found you engaged in an illegal brawing ring, not the most glorious of backstories

but that didn’t matter, you proved yourself of honorable character and of somewhat high morals

the two of you butt heads every so often over a few values, but he understood where you came from, the desperation of survival against hunger and thirst and cold

around him, you were solid and cold as a rock, unmoving in face or limb, words icier than the weapons of Bi Han, sharper than the crack of Lord Raiden’s lightning

and yet, around Kung Lao, you were kind as a lullaby, warmer than a cup of steaming tea, soft as a dream in the sky

he thought perhaps you didn’t like him because of the differing values, but that made no sense either as Kung Lao held the same values as Liu Kang

it made no sense, especially when the other day he had brought back the other champions, Cole Young, Kano, Jackson Briggs, and Sonya Blade 

you acted so warmly and kind towards them, so talkative even with Kano, and Liu Kang doesn’t understand why you refuse to talk or even smile at him

he wanted to know, why you disliked him so much, and he was determined to find out, especially considering the fact that out of all of them, the two of you were most similar

today, you watch from the sidelines, cheering on Cole Young as he faces off against Kung Lao, even when you know that the fighter stood no chance against the monk

Liu Kang watches from by the pillars, not quite being noticed by you yet as you watch and wince at how easily Kung Lao takes down Cole

a gasp escapes your mouth when you see Kung Lao slice at Cole with his bladed hat and throw him across the sandy fighting ring

you rush over into the pit, helping Cole Young up, and then you turn and notice Liu Kang, your lips wiring shut and face turning away from him as you drag the fighter up

brushing past him, you hurry out of the training ring with the fighter, hands gripping on so tightly to the fighter’s forearms, that Cole lets out a small pained ‘ow’ that you ignore

Liu Kang feels dumbfounded, how quickly you had rushed out of there when you noticed him, does your hatred for him know no bounds?

Kung Lao walks up next to him and sighs, resting his elbow on Liu Kang’s shoulder as a prop to help stand up, and he laughs a little, as if knowing of something that Liu Kang did not

the fire-wielder sighs, distracted enough that he didn’t even mind Kung Lao using him as a elbow rest, and the hat-wielder only hums, a playful smile on his face

Liu Kang frowns at Kung Lao and finally shrugs off Kung Lao’s elbow, asking why he looked so smug for beating a boxer that would have no chance again the Chosen One

Kung Lao shakes his head, saying that he was not smiling about that, that the easiness of how Cole Young was defeated was actually quite concerning

no, he was smiling at something else and then sealed his lips, that familiar cocky grin on the monk’s face

for someone who was supposed to be humble, the prized disciple of the monks, he sure seemed the opposite of all their teachings

Liu Kang turns his head away and steps forward, he should go and help Cole Young and you with the injury, he was the most familiar with the medicine room after all

the hat-wielder stays behind, saying that he would be training the other fighters in the meantime, and he looks to Kano, half-asleep on the steps and throws his hat at the space in between his spread legs, only a centimeter away from his prized jewels

the fire monk pays no mind to the ensuing yelling and cursing from the Australian mercenary and  heads down the hallway, thumbing the beads in his hands

your voice dances through the mostly silent hallways, and Liu Kang huffs at your laughter, so casual and easy with everyone but him

it irritated him, as if rubbing the invisible fur on his back the wrong way, he wanted you to laugh with him, to smile at him, to say such sweet words to him

however, you were only ever silent around him, rushed in your footwork to get away that it was noisy and clumsy and so uncharacteristic of how you fought in the training pits

yours and Cole’s voice becomes clearer as he nears the entrance of the med room, and he readies to enter when he hears his name fall from Cole’s lips and your squeak of surprise

you whine out Cole’s name, telling him to stop teasing you, and Cole squawks angrily and tells you to be more gentle with the wound

Liu Kang hears your hiss of anger and you telling him to not be so careless about his teasing about you and Liu Kang, he knows that you like him, and it was embarrassing

the fire monk thinks his knees go weak when he hears your indirect confession, you liking him? liking? not hate? the turn of events somehow managed to spin his head so fast that Liu Kang thought he was in heaven for a moment

Cole grumbles, telling you to not make it so obvious then, your glances at the fire monk, the complete change in your behavior around the monk, anyone could guess it if they watched you and Liu in a room

clearly not, because Liu Kang presses his back against the hallway, trying to get his bearings, his heart beating against his chest, legs feeling more like soft bread and ready to collapse underneath his weight

a heat rises up to his cheeks, and he purses his lips together at the thought of you liking him, were you really that obvious?

Liu Kang had thought himself as an observant person, but he was blind to something that everyone had apparently known

suddenly, Kung Lao’s cocky grin from earlier made much more sense, his best friend, his shixiong, his sworn brother, the one in which they both knew each other’s most embarrassing and deepest secrets had kept this information away from Liu Kang

even when that damn hat-wielder knew how much Liu Kang fretted over you not liking him when he liked you back so much

Liu Kang would not treat Kung Lao’s wounds so easily next time

he hears your gasp, telling Cole to be more quiet, what if one of the monks heard and told Liu Kang, and Cole snorts, saying that they were silent

you make a ‘tch’ sound at the fighter, saying that the monks had different ways of communicating in their silence

Cole sighs and grumbles, the sound of the cot squeaking as he readjusts himself, and you grumble that the wound would heal in two weeks time, just to not pick at the bandages

the sound of yours and Cole’s footsteps grow closer to the door, and Liu Kang finally snaps back into reality, floating somewhere in between the heavens

he has no time to react, only managing to push himself off the wall when you and Cole exit the medical room, and your sentence immediately cuts off as you stare at the monk

Liu Kang thumbs at the beads in his hands and says in as even as a voice that he can muster that he must speak to you urgently

your face is so soaked in sweat that Liu Kang thinks that he might just bring you back into the medical room, but with a not so subtle push from Cole Young, you step towards the fire monk

he walks away from Cole, and you follow behind him, feet scraping against the stone and breath barely audible

inwardly, Liu Kang thinks he’s going to set his whole body on fire, mind still trying to organize and clear his thoughts at the realization that you liked him too

the walk doesn’t last longer than a minute as he brings you into the empty kitchens, a private place to talk without bringing you directly to his bedroom

he turns around, hoping that the grip on the beads isn’t so obvious, and you look like you’re about to be sick, sweat soaking your forehead and your skin an unnatural color

Liu Kang clears his throat and says that you’re not in any trouble, that he had overheard your conversation with Cole Young and didn’t want to make a scene in front of the fighter

you nod, stiff as a door that hasn’t had its hinges oiled, and your hands are clasped tightly behind you, no doubt nervously clutching each other

he purses his lips, gathering as much courage in his chest as he could when he says that he overheard that you liked him and that was why you acted so strange in front of him

it almost looks like you’re frozen, like a criminal that had been caught with his hand inside the jewelry box, and your lip trembles as your eyes drift downward to the floor, almost like you were ashamed of yourself

Liu Kang feels frozen himself as he stares at you, frightened about confessing his feelings toward you even if he knew that you liked him back

still, the longer the silence pervades the two of you, the more nervous you get, eyes shifting back and forth, your body leaning towards the door, wanting to escape

he can’t lose this chance to talk to you again, or else he may never even see a glance of you again

clutching onto his prayer beads, Liu Kang takes in a sharp breath and says that he thought you had hated him because you had treated him so differently

your eyes dart to his face, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise, and Liu Kang says that he wanted to know why so badly, because he found you enrapturing

when he could he hear you talk, could watch you fight, could see you smile and laugh, it had burned a fire brighter than anything that he could conjure

he liked you too and hadn’t understood why you avoided him so greatly, had tried to get closer to you and failed, only to find that you liked him back

Liu Kang looks back at you, finding that a bit of the color in your face had returned and that the cold sweat from your forehead had disappeared

clearing his throat, he suddenly found himself stuck, unsure of what to say next, and he simply thumbed the prayer beads in his hand, willing for a thought to come to his head

you speak first, mumbling so quietly that he almost misses it from thinking too hard about what he wanted to say to you next

you ask if he’s being truthful, and Liu Kang nods that he is, and you let out a breath, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar as you stare at him

Liu Kang stumbles backwards as you launch yourself at him, arms around his neck and face buried into the crook of it

he can feel the heat burning off your cheeks, and you tell him to not look at you, that you might actually explode if you do

bringing his arms around you as well, he lets you hug him, hoping that you can’t feel how rapid his heart beats in his chest

in the corner of his eye, he spots a small shadow and the two peeking faces of Cole and Kung Lao by the doorway

they hurry away when Liu Kang lifts a finger and sends a small dart of fire towards them

[chukys-mouthguard]

nights like this

3.3k words

featuring: auston matthews x female reader

genre: fluff, suggested smut

summary: Auston has just been named the newest captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, and while you worry about pulling off a surprise dinner, Auston has his own surprise in store for you

Watching from the front row with Auston’s family, you tried your best to not get emotional. Partially because of not wanting to ruin your makeup, but the other half of you knowing Auston would surely laugh at you for it.

Auston had just been named the newest captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, which was such an amazing accomplishment for him still so young in his career. John Tavares shook his hand as he presented Auston with the jersey, the two of them posing together before Auston did a few solo shots.

You smiled at him as you clapped along with the crowd, his eyes finding yours as he shot you a wink. His smile was bright as he held the jersey proudly. The news was not something he’d necessarily expected, but he was so honored to accept.

He’d come home from meetings earlier in the week, to which you assumed were standard team business. But as he greeted you in the kitchen asking to sit you down, you had grown nervous that he was delivering some bad news.

-

“Hey baby, smells good.”

Auston kissed your lips as you were preparing lunch. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder. Watching your hands as they were busy chopping up some veggies for the dish you were making.

“Is it too much to ask you to pause for a quick second? I’ve gotta talk to you.”

You’d dropped the knife almost immediately, his tone of voice catching you off guard as you grew nervous fast. Turning in the grip of his arms to face him you wiped your hands with a towel.

“Is everything okay?”

He softly smiled as he took your hand, leading you to the couch as he sat you down before taking a seat on the coffee table in front of you. His hands held tight to yours as he looked at the floor.

“Auston, baby, hurry up I’m freaking out inside! And lunch is gonna burn!”

He chuckled as he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them both before he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“So, as you know I had several meetings recently with the team, and it’s nothing bad. It’s actually pretty amazing, honestly. And today, they let me know that they are looking to take the organization in a new direction this season. That new direction is gonna start with me.”

Despite him telling you this was good news, it hadn’t yet sounded like anything good. It started to sound like somehow Auston was being traded with the way he chose to phrase this.

“You’re looking at the newest captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

Your jaw fell to the floor as you stared at him, his smile grew from ear to ear as he watched your reaction. The tears subconsciously welled in your eyes as you were overcome with emotion, wanting to scream and run around the house. But also just wanting to hug him tight and never let him go.

“Auston, stop. You’re serious?”

He nodded his head laughing at your disbelief, “yes, hand to god baby.”

“Babe! I’m so proud of you!”

Jumping up from the couch you wrapped your arms around him as he stood up, lifting you off your feet as he hugged you. Your legs wrapping around his waist as you peppered his face with kisses. Auston just laughed at your reaction, carrying you back towards the kitchen as he saw a pot of water boiling on the stove.

“Auston this is amazing! Oh my gosh, we have to celebrate!”

He set you down as he tended to the boiling pot, stirring the water that was tasked with cooking some rice before he turned down the flame.

“Well, not yet. It hasn’t been announced yet. So we have to wait until next week to do any celebrating after the official reveal and announcement by the Leafs.”

You playfully groaned with a roll of your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight as you were so in awe of him.

“Fine, I guess I’ll wait a week to let everyone know how amazing you are and how proud I am of you. I love you baby, and I’m seriously so fucking proud of you!”

-

Now the day was finally here to celebrate.

As Auston came down from the stage, the press conference now over, he stopped to hug each of his friends and family in the front row. Leaving you for last as he walked up with the biggest smile on his face.

“I told you no crying allowed today, you’re such a softie baby.”

He wrapped his arms around you as he chuckled, his teasing just making you smile as you couldn’t help your emotions. He kissed your lips before taking your hand in his as he continued through the room to greet and thank other familiar faces for coming.

Auston had kept you by his side for the remainder of the post-press conference festivities, his arm wrapped around your waist as his thumb traced circles over the fabric of your dress. You found it hard not to be in awe of him. To know all of these people were there to support him, to support this new chapter of the organization that was starting with him. To know they believed in a future with him as captain, it made you so proud to call him your boyfriend and get to the by his side throughout this new journey.

“You look stunning tonight baby.”

Auston pulled you in for a kiss as the two of you waited for the elevator, the press conference finally coming to an end after much media attention and thank you’s were expressed to the guests.

“And you look so handsome, Mr. Captain.”

You jokingly teased the nickname, still feeling like it wasn’t real as Auston simply rolled his eyes with a smile. Knowing that were surely going to enjoy that nickname a little too much, but he’d get over it.

The two of you took the elevator down to the parking garage, climbing into Auston’s car as he quickly replied to a couple texts before starting it up.

“Where to for dinner babe?”

You hadn’t told Auston but you planned a surprise celebratory dinner at one of his favorite restaurants for his family and closest friends. The secret was not an easy one to keep as he could usually sniff out a surprise from a mile away, and you were worried he had possibly found out from a teammate to ruin it.

“I actually arranged dinner for us tonight, as a little surprise for you.”

Auston looked at you with a smirk before backing out of his parking spot, it wasn’t that he didn’t like you making plans, he just loved being the one to spoil and take care of you so it never ceased to shock him when you did the same for him.

“Really? You arranged dinner? That’s a nice surprise, where to?”

You’d plugged the directions into his GPS for the restaurant, growing nervous that maybe he’d found out from someone about the surprise. Trying not to give Auston any sign that you were nervous as you sat in the passenger seat as his hand rested on your thigh, the only thing keeping you calm.

“Wow, I forgot how beautiful this place is. We haven’t been here in awhile, I’m excited.”

He leaned over giving you a kiss before you exited the vehicle for valet, Auston taking your hand in his as he led you up the small set of stairs to the restaurant. The hostess greeted you as you gave her the name of your reservation, soon following behind as she led you to the private back room.

You could feel your hand beginning to sweat in Auston’s grip, knowing that it wasn’t the end of the world if the surprise flopped, but you wanted to do this special for him.

Pulling him close to you as you approached the doors to the secluded dining room, you took a deep breath, anticipation slowly building to see his reaction to the room of people.

“Here you two are, right in here!”

The hostess beamed with a smile as you two turned the corner, the small group of friends and family instantly cheering as you came into their view. Auston immediately rolling his eyes with a smile, completely caught off guard by the surprise as he looked at you laughing.

“You did this? Baby, you’re amazing. Oh my gosh.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around you to be sure and let you feel how appreciative he was for the surprise. His hands cupping your face as he kissed you once more.

“Thank you baby, this is so special. I love you.”

“I love you too, Aus.”

Auston moved to mingle with the group which included his family, a handful of his teammates that were at his press conference, and a few close friends both from the league and from back home.

You took a seat next to Auston’s mom as you finally felt you could relax, a glass of wine immediately in hand as she offered you cheers in congratulations.

“You did it! Now you can relax and enjoy the night.”

A sigh leaving your lips as you nodded in agreement. So thankful that you’d managed to pull off the surprise, despite it being something small and intimate. You watched as Auston greeted his friends that flew into town, a big smile on his face as they all congratulated him on his captaincy. The only word to describe how you felt in the moment was proud, and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world than by his side.

“Everyone, if I could just take a second of your time before we wrap up the night.”

Auston stood at the front of the room as he gathered the attention of the group, smiling as some of his teammates were chanting for him to make a speech. To which he just playfully shook his head.

“I just wanted to thank each and every one of you for coming tonight, this means so much to me and it was such a pleasant surprise. I’m really excited for this new journey, and honored to be given this opportunity to be captain and I hope I can make the city proud, the fans proud, but also each of you proud so thank you. Lastly, y/n.”

Auston wasn’t an emotional person, but as he looked at you, you swore you saw him getting choked up or teary eyed.

“I don’t know how you pulled this off, mostly because I’m the biggest snoop and always ruin surprises. But this is incredible, and it means so much to me. You have been my rock for so many years, and to know I get to have you by my side as I navigate this new journey, I know that no matter what happens, I’ll be great as long as I’ve got you. So thank you babe, I love you.”

Auston raised a glass to you and the room as everyone reciprocated, all talking a drink together before a final cheer of the room erupted and everyone gathered their things to head out.

You and Auston had stayed to see all of the guests out before leaving, making sure to thank everyone individually once again. Finally heading home after what felt like the longest day, but one you would never forget.

You’d been quiet on the drive, Auston knowing it was a mixture of wine drunk and being tired, so he didn’t bother you much. His hand resting on your thigh as his thumb traced circles over the fabric, a smile on his face as you eventually laced your fingers with this.

“I’m so proud of you baby.”

He chuckled at your somewhat slowed speech from the wine, pulling your hand to his lips as he kissed the back of it. Before resting it on his thigh for the remainder of the drive.

“Thank you, for that, and for tonight. It was amazing, you’re amazing. Tonight was definitely nothing short of amazing.”

The fingernails of your free hand traced up and down his forearm as he pulled into the driveway of your shared home. Parking the car in the driveway before heading over to your door to help you out, but he’d soon realize the wine had certainly kicked your ass tonight.

“Aus, I cannot get out of this car. My heels won’t let me.”

He shook his head as he reached for your hands, helping you out of the car with a chuckle, the reaching back in to grab your bag that was sitting on the floor.

“Seems like someone calmed their nerves with a little red wine tonight huh?”

Pouting your face at him playfully you let out a sigh, doing your best to get yourself into the house on your own as a protest to his joking. Though only making it two steps before stumbling and needing Auston to steady you.

“Gosh baby, falling for me all over again?”

He playfully winked as he helped you regain your composure, laughing as you rolled your eyes at his awful joke.

“Auston Taylour Matthews I swear to-Ah!”

Without warning he scooped you off your feet, earning a slightly shocked yelp from you. A chuckle of embarrassment followed as he carried you inside, taking you into the kitchen where he set you onto the island as he began to work at figuring out the straps on your heels.

“Aus you’re never gonna get them off, just let me.”

“Hush, if I can figure out a bra strap one handed I can get a strap off on a heel.”

You rolled your eyes laughing at his choice of words, watching as he miraculously got the heels off in record time. Tossing them to the side, then resting his hands on either side of your hips as he smiled down at you.

“You were saying?”

He playfully pecked your lips as your fingers played with the chains that were peeking out from under his dress shirt.

“To be honest, you don’t always figure out the bra straps, you’ve definitely just ripped a few bras off of me from time to time.”

Auston rolled his eyes as he discarded his suit jacket, tossing it into the back of the couch before rejoining you in the kitchen.

“Semantics!”

His fingers played with the fabric of your dress at your hips as he placed kisses along your exposed collar bone. His demeanor becomes a bit more timid before you as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

Your hands now resting at the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair as you both just sat in this moment, enjoying the first real opportunity to just be with one another after such a long day.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

As you hummed your response, Auston pulled himself from you as he let out a sigh. The look on his face makes you nervous despite your wine buzz that has overtaken you. His expression was one you couldn’t exactly read as he took your hands in his, the anticipation causing your heart to race.

“Aus, what is it? You’re making me nervous!”

You giggled to hopefully calm his nerves, to which he apologized, not trying to scare you. With another sigh, he took your hands in his as he smiled at you.

“I’m just so incredibly thankful for you. For this night, and every night I get with you. Today was such a long day, of course exciting, but also tiring. And to be able to come home and spend moments like this with you, it’s the best thing in the world.”

You wanted to blame the wine for the tears you felt forming, but knew that would be a lie, your emotions always so easy to elicit when it came to Auston.

“Auston, thank you baby. That means so much to me, I’m so thankful to get to do this with you and be by your side.”

He nodded at you as his own tears were now in his eyes, catching you off guard as he was rarely one to cry. Your hands immediately went to his face to wipe his tears, making him laugh as he could barely get any words out.

“I’m okay, I just. I’ve realized over these last few weeks, that you truly are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You are by my side through the best times, but more importantly the worst times and the toughest times. And in this new chapter, being captain, I have no idea what that will bring for me. But I know that I can’t do any of it without you by my side.”

You were hanging on every last word as he spoke, trying not to ugly cry at the kitchen island as you knew he’d surely poke fun at you for it, but the moment was certainly getting the best of you.

As Auston paused, he opened up the drawer at the counter behind him, taking a deep breath before he turned back to face you. Your eyes immediately searched for what he’d pulled from the drawer.

“Y/n, baby, I know now that you’re my person. I’ve known from the day I met you that you were it for me. You have made me a better man, and I want to continue to be that man for you now and forever. I’m ready to start a new journey with you, to make a promise to love and cherish you forever, to start a family and grow old with you. So, y/n—“

Auston’s arm moved from behind his back to reveal a small black box, with the most amazing ring you’d ever seen. A gasp leaving your lips as you were now certainly ugly crying, but you didn’t care. The emotions overtaking you as you were too stunned to speak.

“Will you marry me?”

Without any hesitation you nodded your head, nervous that if you went to speak you’d say the wrong thing or no words would come out. Auston jokingly confirming with you that you did in fact want to say yes, you simply couldn’t form the words.

He slid the ring on your finger as you could barely hold still, shaking at the sight of the symbol that represented everything he’d just spoken but also so much more.

You immediately pulled him in for a kiss, never wanting to let him go. To stay in this exact moment forever and ever, feeling so in love and on top of the world.

“Oh my god, Auston I can’t believe this!”

You shrieked as you threw your arms around his neck, Auston picking you from the counter as he spun you around. Peopering your face with kisses as he carried you down the hall and towards the staircase to head upstairs.

As he laid you down in bed, you couldn’t stop staring at the ring, earning a sarcastic groan from him as he began to discard his dress shirt. Soon climbing into bed as he hovered over you, peppering your face with kisses before moving down to your neck. His eyes looking up to see you still stealing glances at the ring while you tried to enjoy the moment with Auston.

“Babe, if you can’t stop starting I’m gonna take it away.”

You quickly averted your gaze from your hand, pulling his face up to yours in a kiss that was at first soft and apologetic but soon turned deep and passionate as Auston’s hands snaked up your dress and explored each and every one of your curves. A hand stopping to cup your cheek as he took control of the kiss, his tongue fighting yours for dominance to which you obliged. Smirking against his lips as he slowly pulled away, but not without a playful nibble at your bottom lip.

“I love you Auston Matthews.”

“And I love you, Mrs. Auston Matthews.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 20 pt. 1- I Do

Summary: It's finally here, the day you've been waiting for since the day Javi came into your life and changed it for the better- It's your wedding day, and things couldn't be more perfect. Except for the fact that you and Javi can barley contain your excitement as you wait to see each other.

Word Count: 11.4K (If this wasn't 2 parts, this would be 30k long and wouldn't be finished until May)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink (?), kind of semi-public sex (they're gettin' busy in the bathroom), Kind of getting caught (Steve needs to mind his own business), wedding things!!, family dynamics, mentions of death/grief, lots of emotions, Javi being an anxious, blubbering, hot mess, Javi being so in love and is so excited to spend the rest of his life with you that it physically hurts me (this chapter is lots of fluff and feelings and not as much smut, sorry!! Don't worry, there's PLENTY more to come next chapter 🤪)

A/N: Hi friends!!! Well, she's finally here, the moment we've all been waiting for- our two favorite idiots are finally getting married 😭💕 While I would have loved to make this one chapter, it literally would have been SO long, and Lord knows when I actually would have finished with it. So this chapter is the morning leading up to the ceremony, and part 2 will be the ceremony and reception!! I'm not even gonna lie, I bawled several times writing this chapter. These two mean so much to me, and I'm so honored that you care enough about them to be invested in my silly little story, too 🥺 HAPPY WEDDING DAY!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

For the better part of his life, Javier Peña was convinced there was nothing more soul-crushingly painful and miserable than a wedding. On a day that was supposed to be filled with happiness and joy, Javi had spent more years than he’d like to admit doing anything to avoid the occasion all together. Because for him, weddings had meant none of those things. Weddings had only served as yet another reminder of the failure he had chalked himself up to be. 

Leaving Lorraine at the altar and running away to Colombia. 

Watching the successes of everyone else’s blissful domestic lives play out in front of him, while he’d never felt so alone. 

Convincing himself that he would never be worthy of love because of the terrible person that he’d become. 

Weddings had been something that Javier Peña hated more than most things in life. 

But that was until he met you. 

Because today, on the morning of his own wedding, Javi was quite literally bursting at the seams with excitement, goofy grin stretched from ear to ear knowing that in a few short hours, he got to marry the most amazing, beautiful, perfect woman he had ever met. And even though the reality had set in that today was finally the day the two of you started your forever together, he was positive that he’d never get over the reality that you would always be his. 

As he pulled his truck up the driveway to your new home where he should have been sleeping for the better half of last night, there was a part of him that couldn’t have been more thankful he had been able to sneak in just a few more hours with you before sunrise, knowing the anxious anticipation of waiting to see you all day, let alone see you in your wedding dress at the other end of the aisle, was enough to already have his heart beating a million miles a minute at the ripe hours of the morning. 

While he should have known better his Dad would already be well awake by the time he snuck back home, Chucho’s welcoming grin from the front porch was already laced with enough forgiveness for Javi to hope he’d be spared at least some shit from his father. 

“”Morning, mijo.” Chucho chuckled, watching Javi’s sheepish stride up the driveway towards the house, slowly sipping on his cup of coffee with a boyish grin on his face, knowing damn well where his son had been without having to say a word. 

“I already know what you’re gonna say, Pops.” Javi sighed, shaking his head in embarrassment as he approached his dad, letting out a soft grunt as he took a seat next to his father on the top step of the front porch. 

“I haven’t said anything, Javier. Do you have something you want to say?” Chucho couldn’t help but snicker, raising his eyebrows at his son, as he watched his cheeks turn a petrified pink. 

“Nope, I am- oh, fuck me- nope I am, uh, all good.” Javi stammered, burying his hands in his face before running them through the sleepy curls of his hair and over the nape of his neck, his eyes still peeled to the ground, avoiding Chucho’s smug grin. 

“Then all I have to say is,” Cucho paused, taking another swig of coffee, “I hope you never stop loving her the way that you do now.” Javi looked up at his dad in confusion, wondering how his sneaking out wasn’t shaping up to be some sort of teenage scolding from his father. “I already know that you know you are a very, very lucky man Javier, but I also hope that you know you are going to make a wonderful husband. Eres un buen hombre. Estoy muy feliz por ti, mijo. Tu madre también lo estaría. Muy feliz.” (You are a good man. I am so happy for you, son. Your mom would be, too. So happy.) 

Letting his eyes shift off his feet where they had been stuck, Javi looked back up at his father, tears welling in his eyes at Chucho’s reassuring smile, reaching out to wrap his arm around his son, pulling him close enough to let Javi’s head fall on his shoulder, the two sitting for a quiet moment in silence. 

Javi couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his heart, thinking about the fact his mom wouldn’t be with him for the biggest day of his life. His mother had left this world when Javi was at his lowest- alone and halfway across the globe, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in. It had always haunted him that his mom had died worried that her son had become a broken man, and would never be proud of the person he’d turned out to be. When he returned home, he felt even worse thinking that his one living parent probably felt that way, too. 

But what brought him solace in a time that he needed it most, was you. You had given him a reason to make his parents proud, to make himself proud. While his mom would never be able to tell him the words he so desperately longed to hear, he knew in his heart that the life he’d built because of you was all the comfort he needed to prove to himself Lucia was smiling down on him when he needed it most. And as he looked up at the sky, the pink and orange rays of the beautiful sunrise beginning to spill over the horizon, he had never been more sure that even though his mom couldn’t physically be by his side, that Lucia Peña would still be with him every step of the way.  

“Fuck, I miss her, Pops. I wish she was here.” 

“She is, Javier. She always will be.” 

After soaking in a few more quiet moments together staring out into the shimmering sunrise, Chucho let out a content sigh, giving Javi a gentle pat on the back and rustling the dark curls of his son’s thick hair. 

“But, if there is one thing I know about your Mother, it’s that  I can practically hear her screeching at us wasting our time being sad about her on the happiest day of your life. Chucho, por qué piedres el tiempo estar triste? Basta de quejarte! Nuestro hijo se está casando, pendejo!” (Why are you wasting your time being sad! Stop moping! Our son is getting married, stupid.) Chucho mocked, shaking his head at the sky at the scolding he knew he’d be getting from his wife, making him and Javi burst into laughter. “And, if there’s another thing I know about your mother,” Chucho paused again, letting out a loud grunt as he pushed himself up to stand, resting his arm on Javi’s shoulder, “it’s that her and I would both agree there better be a nieto (grandchild) in our lives 9 months from now. Dios mío (oh my God), Javier, even on the night before your wedding you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves! I am truly surprised I don’t have 14 grandchildren already.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pops….” Javi whispered to himself over his dad’s schoolgirl snickers, watching his son’s face fall flush once again, standing up to follow behind his dad back inside as Chuhco began to waddle his way across the porch. 

Although Javi could have tried to plead his case to his dad to prove his innocence, truth be told, today, he really didn’t care. Today, the only thing he cared about was that in just a few short hours, he got to meet you, his wife, at the end of the aisle and spend his forever with the woman he loved more than life itself. For the first time in his life, Javier Peña couldn’t have been more excited for a wedding. 

You weren’t sure how many more times you had read the scratchy print scribbled across the bright yellow post-it Javi had left behind on his pillow before he had snuck out for the morning, but you did know that your heart beat faster and faster in anxious anticipation with every glance over his words, counting down the second until you got to see him again. 

You had kept yourself in your room, convinced that your excited impatience would have you awake well before everyone else still sleeping at the ranch, but as you heard clanging and bickering starting to echo from the kitchen, you should have known better that your mom and Connie would be up to something to kick start your wedding day. 

With a yawn and stretch of your arms above your head, you flopped yourself out of bed, exchanging Javi’s worn t-shirt and sleep shorts for the white pajama set your mom had insisted she buy for you to get ready in as a compromise for your adamant despise at the white silky robe that had “bride” stitched across it in big pink letters that she had begged to buy you. 

Shuffling down the hallway, the commotion in the kitchen only became increasingly louder, now realizing almost everyone must be awake for whatever antics were taking place for the early hours of the morning. As you turned the corner, you were greeted by an adorable “Happy Wedding Day!” banner that had been made by the girls hanging on the wall, decorated with adorable crayon drawings of flowers, you and Javi, and all of the horses of the Peña ranch dressed in wedding apparel. As your eyes scanned across the rest of the room, the kitchen table was already full of breakfast, balloons dangled from the ceiling, and your mom and Connie were actively working on filling up what was most likely one too many glasses of mimosas.  

“Happy wedding day, Auntie Bear!” A little voice cooed behind you, looking down to see a still very sleepy Olivia, hair still crazed and bed ridden as she wrapped herself around your hip, squeezing you in a tight hug. 

“Ahhhhh, there’s the bride!!” Your mom shrieked, her pitch enough to make everyone in the room wince as she barreled towards you, joining Olivia to engulf you in her grasp. After everyone had recovered from your mom’s shrill greeting, everyone else had soon joined in on squeezing you in a giant group hug, the gesture in itself making you smile, but the physical restraint in the middle of a human sandwich being a little too much for you this early in the morning. 

“Thanks guys. I uh, I would like to make it out alive for my wedding so maybe if we don’t squish me to death, that would be great.” You grunted, trying to wriggle out of the arms squishing your body, hoping that someone would get the hint. 

“Alright, I think she’s probably had enough.” Connie laughed, finally noticing the look on your face, prompting everyone to give you at least a little breathing room. 

“I’m just so excited for you! I can’t believe you’re getting married, sweetie!” Your mom, clearly not picking up on the hint, was now back to squeezing you in a bear hug again tight enough to make your eyes pop out of your head. “Okay, sorry, sorry, I’m done now, just had to get one last one out of my system… for now. Here, have a seat, honey,” Your mom gestured towards the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit in, “we have about an hour before we have to start doing hair and makeup but we have plenty of breakfast for you to choose from before we get the day started. How’d you sleep?” 

“Oh, um- fine, I um, I slept fine.” You lied, now sheepishly staring down at the overflowing plate of breakfast food your mom had set in front of you, taking a hefty bite of pancake before looking back up, your eyes meeting Connie’s, a suspicious smirk gleaming on her face as she stared at you, crossing your arms over your chest as you swallowed your food with a more audible than intended gulp. 

“Oh good!” Your mom replied, obvious to yours and Connie’s silent interaction as she meandered around the kitchen. “Well, eat up, I’m off to go check on some things outside, but by the time I get back in here, that plate better be cleared! Girls, come help Grandma, let your Aunt finish her breakfast!” 

“Okay!” Your nieces giggled, following behind your mom into the backyard, leaving you and Connie alone in the kitchen, hearing her silently laugh to herself as she sat down next to you at the table. 

“Good sleep, huh? Good sleep that definitely had nothing to do with Javi’s truck that left here at 6:00 AM this morning?” Connie snickered, giving you a little wink as your cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, letting out a defeated sigh. 

“I promise it’s not what you think. I actually couldn’t sleep and I called Javi and he ended up coming over so I wouldn’t be up the whole night. I told him he didn’t have to, but I was up and stressed and having him here was the only thing that was going to help. It was just sleep, I promise.” 

“It’s okay, I believe you. I couldn’t sleep the night before my wedding either. I’m pretty sure if I did what you had done, Steve would have slept right through the phone call, or still would have been too drunk to drive over.” The two of you quietly giggled to yourselves as Connie reached out for your hand, holding it in hers, “I hope you know that he loves you so much. It always broke my heart to see Javi go through what he did, and how hard on himself he was because of it. You really are the best thing that could have ever happened to him. I’m so happy for the two of you, I couldn’t be more excited for today, honey.” 

Reaching across the table, Connie wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you in another hug, trying to hold back your sniffles as you felt happy tears beginning to well in your eyes. 

“Thank you, Connie.” 

“Of course. Now, you better pick what you want from that breakfast and throw away the rest before your mom gets back, I don’t think either one of us wants to be responsible for telling her that her food wasn’t sufficient enough for you.” 

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of the dismay your mom would be in thinking that you didn’t get enough to eat before your big day as you put a reasonable amount of breakfast on a new plate to eat, discarding the other heaping pile that your mom had left you. 

“You are a smart woman, Connie Murphy.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

The rest of the morning seemed to move by at an exponential pace- At the Pena ranch, hair and makeup was well underway for everyone, and running on time with incredible efficiency from the detailed schedule that your mom and Connie had put together. Even though your body was riddled with endless amounts of anxious anticipation and excitement as the clock ticked closer and closer to when Javi and the rest of the boys would finally get here, you were pleasantly surprised at how fun the morning had ended up being with all the girls, especially since your nieces and the Murphy girls had insisted on putting on a hilarious sing along spectacular for the majority of the time for entertainment while you got ready. 

Over at your new house, however, with the only getting ready that Javi needed to do being taking a shower and putting on his suit, the boys were convinced that he was going to put a hole in the floor from his anxious pacing as he counted down the minutes to leave. 

“Jav, have a beer, man, you just put this floor in, I think your wife’s gonna be pissed when she finds out she has to replace it before y’all even move in because you can’t sit still.” Steve chuckled, taking a sip out of his can before nudging your brothers sitting next to him on the couch as they watched their friend and future brother in law tread back and forth across the living room for what felt like the 117th time since they’d sat down. 

“I think I have to agree with Steve on this one, Javier, you are making me anxious and I’m not even the one getting married.” Chucho chimed in from the armchair seated next to the couch. 

“I’ll second what Steve said, man. Have a beer, Javi. You haven’t shut up all day about how fuckin’ excited you are, so what’s got you so worked up? You’ve seen her in a dress before dude, this one’s just white.” Your brother David snorted, his joke now soliciting some eye rolls from the rest of the boys, considering David was about single as they came, and was the only one of the group who wasn’t even remotely close to being married. 

“It’s a fucking wedding dress, you dingus, there’s obviously a difference.” Your dad groaned, walking up to your brother to give him a prompt smack in the back of the head, making your other brother Charlie snicker to himself, until he also decided to greet him with an equally harsh slap for good measure. 

“What the fuck was that for? I didn’t say anything!” Charlie winced, holding his hands up in defense. 

“Tell your brother to stop being an ass! She’s your sister too, for Christ’s Sake, you’re not gonna stand up for her either?! Jesus you two are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met. Even Patrick would have had enough common sense to keep that one in his head. Well, maybe not, but that’s besides the point.” That one at least cracked a little smile from your brothers, wishing that Patrick would have been here to see their sister’s big day, and to distribute the slapping pain more equally between the pair. 

“I just… Fuck, I just wanna see her. I can’t wait to see her. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my whole life. The suspense is fucking killing me.” Javi signed, resting one hand on his hip before running his hand through his hair, anxiously drumming his fingers on his side, foot tapping on the well worn path he had been treading on the hardwood floor of the living room. 

Chucho chuckled, resting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up to stand with a low grunt, making his way over to his son, resting his hand on his shoulder as he looked up at him. “Eres como tu madre.. Impaciente. (You are just like your mother… Impatient). Mijo, I remember when I married your mother, she was so excited that she actually asked if we could start the wedding an hour early, just so we could see each other sooner. I can almost hear her laughing at the fact that her son is no better than her. How I wish she were here to see this. Soon, Javier. I promise.” 

“Do you think she’s gonna like the gift? You made sure she has it for today, right? And everything from her brothers too?” Javi asked, nervously biting at the tip of his thumb as he glanced down at his father before looking over at David and Charlie sitting on the couch, smiling back at him. 

“Yes, Javier. I triple checked last night. I’m sure that she will love it. I know she will love it. All of it. Now, why don’t you go put on your suit and we can leave a little ahead of schedule, I will just make sure to drive extra slow. Even slower than normal. I think if we wait any longer you may actually combust.” He teased, pulling Javi into a tight hug before releasing him, giving him a gentle pat on the back. 

“Alright boys, you heard the man, get your sorry asses moving and let’s get these monkey suits on, it’s time to get this boy married!” David cheered, holding up his beer to toast Javi before promptly chugging the rest of it down his throat and slamming it down on the table, soliciting another round of eye rolls and muffled laughter from the crowd. 

Silently nodding and smiling to himself, letting out one last reassuring breath before looking at the boys standing in front of him. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna get married.” 

Back at the ranch, the last of getting ready was beginning to wrap up, all the girls' hair and makeup finally finished, and the youngest of the crew giddily dancing in their flower girl dresses, twirling and swirling in excitement at their pristine outfits as they gathered around you, patiently awaiting for you to get into your own wedding dress.  

For as long as you’d wanted to get married, you’d always known that you wanted your wedding dress to be simple- No excessive frills, poof, glitter, or anything that made you feel like you were playing dress up for the world’s goofiest fashion show, simply because it was your wedding, and your dress needed to reflect the extravagance of the event. Your style choice came as a surprise to no one, given the fact you had practically lived in your brother’s hand-me-down’s until the 8th grade, and even when your mom had flown down a few months ago to go dress shopping with you and Connie, she had even laid down the hammer with one of the wedding dress consultants that you wouldn’t even step anywhere near a dress that was an ounce too over the top. 

That’s why you were absolutely shocked that despite your firm parameters around what you wanted to wear for your big day, that you fell in love with the very first dress you tried on, and never looked back. 

It was everything you wanted and never you needed in a dress- a simple a-line skirt with thin straps that ran across your shoulders and scooped down your back, along with a delicate, lacy floral pattern stitched across your top that flowed down the wispy length of your gown. There were few times that you had ever admitted it to yourself, but you had truly never felt more beautiful than when you were wearing that dress, and when you had tried it on for the first time, only to turn around to see the tears welling in your mom and Connie’s eyes as you revealed it to them, it was every confirmation that you needed that this dress was made for you. 

And while you had been counting down the days in excitement, waiting to put your dress on for your big day, Javi had been counting down along with you, to the point where Connie had made the executive decision to keep the dress at her house to prevent any preemptive peeking, considering that Javi had spent every day since you had bought your dress telling you how he couldn’t wait to see how beautiful you were going to look in it, without even knowing a single clue about what you had boughten, besides your lovingly sarcastic and vague “It’s a dress, and it’s white, Jav.” 

But after all the time you had spent imagining what it would be like to finally put your dress on for your actual wedding day, you almost couldn’t believe that you were finally here, carefully taking the straps off the hanger where it had been resting, holding the beautiful, white fabric out in front of you with a goofy grin spread across your face, eyeing down the outfit that meant you got to spend forever with your best friend. 

“You ready to put it on?” Connie asked softly, her hand resting on your shoulder as she stepped behind you, excitedly gazing at your dress right alongside you. 

“Yeah.” You smiled, gently nodding your head as you looked back at Connie, taking one last deep breath before passing off the dress to her before shimmying out of your clothes, letting them fall to a pile on the floor before turning to Connie, stepping into the opening of the dress and carefully pulling each strap over your shoulders while she pulled the zipper along your back, letting out a little sigh of relief as it clasped at the top. With one more long inhale, you slowly turned around to face everyone, eagerly awaiting your reveal, picking up your gown with a little floof as it gently draped around you, meeting the tears and smiles painted across everyone’s faces while they gazed at you. 

“Auntie Bear, you look like a princess! Uncle Javi is gonna think that you look like the most beautifulest person he’s ever seen.” Olivia squealed, jumping up and down in excitement before running over to you, wrapping her little arms around your waist in a tight hug. 

“Oh sweetheart…. You look absolutely stunning.” Your mom sniffled through her tears, holding her hands crossed over her chest, soaking in your full wedding ensemble. 

“You look gorgeous. Like, seriously. I hope you know that Javi’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you in this.” Connie giggled, giving you a wink and a playful nudge, looking you up and down in astonishment. 

Stepping over to see yourself in the mirror, your heart skipped a beat to see yourself, your stomach churning with anxious, excited butterflies knowing that you were only getting closer and closer to finally seeing Javi and his reaction, trying your best to not your smirk grow too wide between your warm cheeks, thinking about his reaction. 

“You really think he’s gonna like it?” You asked, your eyes still fixed at your reflection in the mirror, gently swaying your lacy, floral skirt back and forth, running your hand against the delicate fabric. 

“Honey, I’ve watched that man ogle over you in a hockey jersey. I told the boys they’re in charge of making sure he doesn’t faint when you walk down the aisle.” Your mom teased, Connie nodding her head in agreement. 

“I’m gonna second your mom on this one, girl. Steve has a running bet with the guys on how long it takes Javi to cry after he sees you. I think the over/under is 2 seconds, but after seeing you right now, I’m convinced he’s all waterworks from the moment he lays eyes on you.” 

Connie’s comment made you laugh to yourself, shaking your head at the idea of Javi instantly bursting into tears from just the sight of you, but when you thought about seeing Javi in his tux (that you had already seen before, multiple times) and what a mess you were going to be, maybe the boy’s betting line didn’t seem so unfair after all. 

“Speaking of tears…” Connie smirked at your mom, nodding at her to signify some little secret they seemed to be in on, “There’s one last thing you need to see before… Well, we’ll let you open it up and find out.” 

With that, your mom reached over to one of the tables where a white box with a neatly wrapped bow had been hidden, your mom passing it to Connie before then passing it over to you, making you tilt your head in confusion as you took the box in your hands, looking back and forth between your mom, Connie and the box waiting for some sort of explanation. 

“What is this?” you questioned, still puzzled as you noticed the gift tag hidden under the bow, gently peeling it open, their suspicious smirks beginning to spread as you read the all too familiar scratchy handwriting inside. 

To: Osita

Love: Javi

Now even more confused, you carefully began unwrapping the bow from around the packaging, letting the ribbon fall to the floor, followed by the lid of the box, revealing another longer note from Javi, resting on top of a bed of neatly folded tissue paper. You sat down in one of the chairs close by, letting the box rest on your lap as you held the note in your hands, already beginning to tremble as you felt the tears start to well in your eyes as you began to read. 

Osita, 

I knew from the moment I met you, that I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t believe that day is finally here. I hope that this day is everything that you could ever dream it to be. 

I hope you know that if I could I would give you everything. The moon, the sun, the stars- if you wanted it, I would give it to you. 

But I know that no matter how hard I try, there is one thing I know can’t give to you, and that’s the presence of the people who aren’t with us anymore. 

And while I can’t bring back your brother or my mom to be here today, I hope that what’s in this box will remind you that they’ll always be here for you, no matter what. 

I know my mom would have wanted you to have this. There’s not a day that goes by that I wish she could have met you. She would have loved you so much. I hope she knows that you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to me. 

Your family was able to find something of your brother’s for you to have on here too- I wish I could have met him. I hope he knows how much I love you, and the beautiful and resilient woman you’ve become. I hope he knows how proud I am of you. 

I can’t wait to see you, amor. I can’t even imagine how beautiful you look right now. I’m the luckiest man in the world. 

I love you more than words, and I promise I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making sure you know it. 

Happy Wedding Day, Osita. Soy tuyo para siempre (I’m yours forever). 

-J 

You could feel your heart practically exploding after reading what Javi had wrote for you, wiping away the wetness from your cheeks, you took a deep breath as you carefully set down his note next to you before ever so slowly peeling back the layers of tissue paper folded on top of one another, hiding the gift hidden beneath them. As the last layer of the delicate paper was shed, you let out a gasp, you hand covering your mouth in shock as you put together the pieces of Javi’s note and the present now sitting in your lap, looking up at everyone else in the room, nodding back at you with sympathetic smiles and tears in their eyes at your realization. 

Not only had Javi had given you his mother’s wedding veil to wear, but stitched in the bottom corner was a patch of Patrick’s old hockey jerseys, a small number 2 from his arm sleeve, the number he had worn for every jersey he had ever played in. 

“Oh my… Oh my god? I can’t, I- how did you- oh my god.” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling in disbelief, tears now streaming down your face as you held the veil in your hands, your thumb gently tracing over the worn patch of Patrick’s jersey, truly too stunned to speak at what Javi had done for you, to make sure a piece of two people who were no longer with you could still be a part of the biggest day of your life.

“Can I put it on?” Your mom asked, smiling at you with tears in her eyes, walking towards you as you nodded, handing her over the veil as she gently nestled it into your hair, straightening it out behind you, even more tears streaming down her face while she watched your reaction in the mirror. 

Not only was Lucia’s veil absolutely beautiful, if you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought Javi had asked someone to see what your dress looked like to pick out a veil that matched it perfectly. Like it truly was meant to be.

Still too shocked to form any sort of coherent thought, you stared at yourself in the mirror, silently smiling and crying at your reflection until a soft knock came from outside the bedroom door, making everyone in the room whip their heads around to see all of the boys who had just arrived peeking through the door frame, waiting in anticipation. 

“Can we come in? We’re dyin’ to see you, Cubby. Well, the one who’s dyin to see you the most we banished to the outside so he wasn’t even tempted to come in, but the rest of us fools still wanna see you too.” Your dad’s voice chuckled from behind the door, making you break from your crying just enough to let a soft laugh escape from your chest, nodding your head as you turned around to greet the gang gathered at the door. 

Growing up the youngest of 3 brothers, sentimental wasn’t a term thrown around in your household very often. Of course you loved your family, and they loved you, but you and your brothers had often joked that it’d probably be easier to projectile vomit than to actually say the words “I love you” eachother. So that’s why when your dad and brothers walked through the door with awestruck looks on their faces, you couldn’t help but start crying even more. 

Well, until they actually got a chance to speak. 

“Don’t cry you dingus, you’re gonna mess up all your makeup. And god knows how long it took to try and make you look like you didn’t just crawl out of a garbage can.” David quietly snickered, pulling you in for a much gentler than usual headlock before wrapping his arms around you for a legitimate hug. 

“Fuck off, David. How many people had to help you put that suit on, huh? You use every last brain cell trying to do up those buttons?” You teased back, trying to wipe the tears that had been rolling down your cheeks before giving him a loving slap to the stomach, making the two of you laugh even more. 

“You know his dumbass needed all the help he could get.” Charlie joked, pulling you in for another hug before stepping back to look you up and down, “Not too shabby. You clean up good, Cubby.” 

“Thanks Charlie.” 

The last one to step towards you was your dad, who you could tell was trying with everything in him not to absolutely burst into tears, putting one hand on your shoulder as he smiled at you. “I’ll say it once and I won’t say it again because you know as well as I do I’m not good with the sappy shit. You look beautiful, Cubby. I’m so proud of you. I know Patrick would have been too. Although that motherfucker is probably pissed at us that we cut the number off of his favorite jersey, but I think he’ll forgive us.” Wrapping you in a tight squeeze, your dad engulfed you in a bear hug, quickly followed by your brothers and your mom, trapping you in the center of their bodies, knowing you all were wishing there was one more person there in your group to fill in your hug. 

“I love you guys. Thank you.” You whispered, just loud enough to make sure they could hear, but quiet enough that even though your brothers had heard it, just this once, they wouldn’t give you shit for it. And just this once, everyone seemed to silently agree that they really, truly, did love you too. 

After a few more seconds of your group hug, there was another soft knock on the door, followed by another familiar voice, Chucho and Steve now peeking through the doorway to say hello. 

“Is it okay if we come in, Mija?” Chuco asked, already halfway through the door in excitement. 

“Yes, of course.” You sniffed, breaking free from the middle of your group hug to greet Chucho, less than shocked that his hug was almost tighter than the 4 other members of your family combined. 

“Mija… Mija, you look so beautiful. Oh, goodness. I had always saved this veil one day, just in case. And even though it sat in the attic for years, I pulled it out the week that Javier first met you. I don’t think that there was ever a doubt in anyone’s mind that you weren’t the one for him. My sweet Lucia would have been so happy to know that you have given Javier everything he never thought that he deserved. Oh, how I wish with everything she could have been here today to see how happy you make him. But I hope that you know, she would have been so excited that you get to be a part of our family.” He grinned through his tears, stepping back to look at you with a soft smile on his face, gently reaching up to wipe away the wetness on your cheek before pulling you back in for another hug. “I hope you know that Javier is going to be a wreck when he sees you. Poor boy has been in shambles all day waiting to see you.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man this anxious. And that’s sayin’ somethin’.” Steve chimed in, laughing to himself. “You look great, sweetheart. Chucho’s right, Javi’s ‘bout to be a goddamn mess.” 

As if your heart couldn’t feel any fuller from all of the love and warmth overflowing into the room, you had almost forgotten about the one person that had brought you all together in the first place- Javi. 

You could feel the pace of your heart begin to race, your stomach swirling in anticipation as the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in. 

Your future husband was here, and there was nothing more in the world that you wanted than to see him. Not soon, not at the end of the aisle, not waiting for you at the altar, right this very second. 

“He’s here, right? Javi?” You asked, biting down on your lip to contain the stupid grin growing between your cheeks, swaying back and forth on your heels in childlike impatience. Before you could barely ask your question, all eyes in the room were on your, giving you a collective look that seemed to scream “Seriously? You can’t wait either?” without having to say a word. 

As you could hear the beginning rumblings of protest, David stepped in as the most unexpected voice of reason, holding his hands up to the crowd in your defense, trying to silence everyone’s potential disagreement for what you were about to suggest. 

“Listen… Y’all know as well as I do that we could hold back these two with iron restraints, and they’d still probably find a way to see each other before the ceremony. And to be quite honest, I am pretty convinced if we don’t let them, one of them is gonna fucking combust, and I am not willing to be held personally responsible for any damages done before you two idiots can even get married.” 

Giving you a silent nod of approval, David stepped back to pat your back with the loving force that only a brother could, as everyone else in the room seemed to very quickly agree with his sentiment, joining with head bobs of quiet agreement. 

“I’ll go let the big man know you’re comin’. Gotta find some way to redeem myself before I bust his balls in my speech later.” Steve snickered, giving you a quick wink before quickly disappearing out the door to find the man behind it, waiting half as patiently as you. 

To say that Javi was disappointed when the boys booted him to the outdoors while everyone else got to go in and see you was the understatement of the year. Even though he couldn’t have been sitting on the front porch of his childhood home for more than 10 minutes, it felt like he had been waiting for hours, counting down each second until the moment he finally got to lay his eyes on you. After about 2 minutes of sitting in his dad’s rocking chair, nervously swaying as his hands shifted between his fingers drumming on his legs and balling up in anxious fists, he pushed himself up to stand, walking off the steps of the porch to pace in the front yard under the warmth of the late June sun. 

He had been so preoccupied as he meandered the front of the home, picturing just how breathtaking you would look as you walked down the aisle to greet him- how gorgeous you would be in your dress, your hair, your stunning smile, everything about you that made him look at you and know that he was the luckiest man in the world. That you were his. That you were everything that made him feel like home. It wasn’t until after a few careless steps too far around the corner of the house, that Javi was catching himself from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over a larger than suspected rock underneath him, quietly cursing under his breath while he tried to steady himself, peering down at the ground to see what had almost caused his fall. And when he finally read the words etched into the round stone beneath him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact the thing resting below him was none other than the heading that read “Lucia’s Garden”. 

“Jesus Christ, Ma, you’re not even here and you’re gonna take me out before the wedding even happens.” Javi chuckled to himself, gently tapping his foot against the rock, staring at the worn and weathered letters of her name. “You know, the very first time Pops met her, he let her work on the garden. I couldn’t believe it, because he barely lets me within 10 feet of here without worrying I’m gonna ruin something. But uh, I think that he knew. I think before he even met her, he already knew that she was the one.” 

Letting out a soft sigh, Javi crouched down, squatting next to the stone, gently brushing his thumb across the grittiness, carefully tracing each letter back and forth, praying with every ounce of him that one way or another, she could hear what he had to say. 

“I really wish you could be here, Mom. I really miss you. I really wish she could have gotten to meet you. I know that you’d love her.” Javi paused, his eyes beginning to well with tears, letting out a long, shaky exhale to try and compose himself. “She’s so good to me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve her. She’s made me a better man. A man that I’m proud of. A man I hope you’d be proud of, too.” He paused again, pinching the bridge of his nose before wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “I know that uh- I know before, um you were gone, that you really worried about me. I know you’d never say it, but um, I could tell. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom.” His voice was now barely above a whisper, years of guilt and anger bubbling in his chest for the person he’d been, the life his mother had lived to see him play out while halfway across the world, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in anymore. 

“But, I um- I just- fuck, I just want you to know that I’m okay. I’m more than okay, now. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, all because of her. We’re gonna build a house, we’re gonna have kids, we’re gonna be so happy, Mom. So fucking happy. Te amo mucho, Mama. Siempre lo hare (I love you so much, Mama. I always will).” 

So focused on the quiet conversation with the simple stone sitting beneath him, Javi hadn’t even heard Steve’s hurried footsteps creeping up behind him, making Javi practically jump out of his skin as Steve’s hand met his shoulder. 

“Hey, buddy. You ready to-” 

“Jesus, fuck Murph. You scared the fucking shit out of me.” Javi gasped, thoroughly startled as he shot to his feet, quickly trying to wipe the tears from his face as he faced his friend. 

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to, promise!” Steve laughed, holding his hands up in defense before letting his expression shift to concern at Javi’s face. “Hey, you okay, Jav?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m- No, I’m good, sorry. Just um- Just wish my mom could have been here for this, ya know? She would have really fucking loved her.” 

“Hey, it’s okay, man. My dad was gone before my wedding, too. Fuckin’ sucks.” Steve smiled sympathetically, “Truth be told Jav, that girl you’re gonna marry, I think it’s hard for anyone not to love her. Your mom would be really happy for ya.” 

“Thanks, Murph.” Javi huffed, a small smile spreading across his face at Steve’s genuine sympathy, a trait he didn’t see very often. 

“C’mere, buddy.” Without giving him a choice, Steve wrapped his arms around Javi, pulling him in for a hug with a few stiff pats on the back before pulling away with a nod, hands on his hips as he stared down his friend with a shit eating grin, knowing the news he was about to tell Javi would instantly turn his mood around. “Speakin’ of your future wife… You wanna see her?” 

“Wait, like, now? Like, actually?” Javi’s mood instantly shifted, his entire body lighting up at the prospect, looking at Steve with relief glistening in his dark brown eyes. 

“Yeah, actually. Thank God your wife is just as obsessed with you as you are with her. Jesus Christ, I think the both of ya would have fuckin’ exploded if we made you wait ‘till the ceremony.” Steve chuckled, grabbing Javi’s shoulder and giving it a playful shake. “Alright, you turn around so it’s a surprise when she gets out here, lemme go get her. And Jav?” Steve asked, turning his head back over his shoulder to look at his friend as he began to walk away back towards the house. 

“Yeah, Murph?” 

“You’re losin’ that bet. No way in fuckin’ hell you ain’t sobbin’ like a baby the second you lay eyes on her.” 

As Steve disappeared back into the house, Javi couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, because as much as he wanted to dish shit back to Steve, he knew his friend was right- He was about to be a fucking mess. 

“So? Are we good? Does he wanna see me?” You asked, anxiously waiting at the door, feet tapping on the floor hidden underneath your dress as you waited for Steve’s return. 

“No offense, Sweetheart, but that's just about the dumbest question I've ever heard. What do you think? Of course the bastard wants to see you. I’m just gonna warn ya though, that man is a hot mess, and I really think ya just may kill him the second he sees you.” The two of you laughed to yourselves, feeling your heart beat faster and faster in your chest with every passing second, using all of your self restraint to keep from bolting out the door past Steve to see Javi. “Alright, I won’t keep ya any longer, go get ‘em, killer.” 

Before you could get yourself out the door, you embraced Steve in a hug, catching him off guard for a moment before he hugged you back, smiles spread across both your faces. 

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t got nothin’ to thank me for. If anything, hell, I should be thankin’ you. You two lovebirds are a match made in fuckin’ heaven. I was real worried about that old bastard for a long time. Glad to know I don’t have to worry about him anymore. Well, at least too much more. Now, enough about my sorry ass, go see your husband.” 

With a silent nod, you gave Steve one more quick hug before you were turning the knob to the front door, quietly stepping out to the front porch to see Javi’s back to you at the bottom of the stairs, already trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes without even seeing his face. As you closed the door behind you, Javi instantly perked up, turning his head back over his shoulder just enough to speak, but not enough to see that it was you who was walking to greet him. 

“She good to come out, Murph? I’m fucking dying out here.” Javi laughed, making you giggle at the fact that he had no idea it was you who was standing behind him. 

“Hate to break it to you, but unfortunately, I am not Steve. So sorry.” You snickered, practically feeling Javi’s eyes roll at your sarcastic comment, even though the both of you were thankful for a little humor to break the anxious anticipation that had been festering in your stomachs since this morning. 

“God, you’re such a dork.” He laughed, his back still turned to you as you took your final steps down the stairs with your dress in hand, trying to fluff it back out as you settled yourself behind him. 

“Hey, you’ve got me for the rest of your life, babe. Lucky you. I’m not gonna lie, don’t think I cleaned up half bad, ya know, if you wanna see.” You teased, giving Javi a playful poke on the back as you bit down on your bottom lip, so excited to see Javi’s reaction you truly thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest. 

“Baby, you have no fucking idea. C-can I, can I see you?” Javi stammered, his voice already beginning to tremble. 

“Well, I think I’m gonna implode if you don’t, so yeah.” You took one last long inhale in, holding your breath as Javi slowly began to turn to face you, feeling like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion when Javi’s eyes finally locked with yours. 

Javi couldn’t even get a word out before his hands were covering his mouth, his jaw dropping open in absolute awe to see you standing behind him. The tears he swore to himself he’d try to fight back were already streaming down his face, his eyes looking you up and down over and over again, trying to soak in every ounce of you, only crying harder as he noticed each and every new detail of you standing before him. 

“Osita… Oh my god. Oh my god.” Javi’s hand stayed glued over his mouth to try and keep his jaw from dropping any further than it already was, absolutely mesmerized by your beauty, barely able to get out any sort of coherent thought out of his brain. “Baby, you, oh my god, you look so beautiful. You look so fucking beautiful.”  

While you figured that Javi would cry and be excited to see you, nothing could have prepared you for the reaction that you were witnessing in real time, watching your future husband become a complete, blubbering mess at the sight of you, making it damn near impossible for you to hold it together yourself, considering the fact that you were also busy trying to take in the ridiculously handsome sight of Javi in his tuxedo- his broad body filling out every inch of the black fabric perfectly, hair and mustache impeccably groomed, and sweet, teary brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight, making you melt, tears rolling down your face as your heart bursted at the seams over and over again, wondering how in the world this wasn’t all some sort of a perfect dream. 

“You like it?” You managed to choke out through your happy sobs, your cheeks straining from the stupid grin that had spread across your face, the both of you radiating in the blissful glow of your excitement. 

“Like it? Osita, are you fucking kidding me? Do I like it? Holy shit, baby, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You look... Osita, you look incredible.” Javi laughed through his tears, taking another step back to grab your hand, looking you up and down again before holding your arms up to twirl you in a circle, your dress flowing around you, making you giggle as you finally finished rotating to lock eyes with Javi again. “Hermosa, I knew you were gonna look amazing, but I- I never, I never could have imagined that you were gonna look like this.” 

“Coming from you? Jesus, Jav, I’m convinced you’re trying to kill me in that tux before we can even get married. You look so good. Javi?” You paused, grabbing his other hand so your fingers were intertwined, his thumb automatically tracing soft circles on your skin. 

“Yeah, baby?” Javi replied, biting down on his bottom lip as he gulped, trying to hold back the lump resting in his throat from his happy tears as he stared down at you. 

“Javi… We’re getting married. We’re getting fucking married.” 

“Fuck. We’re getting married. Holy shit.” As if the smile on Javi’s face couldn’t get any wider, his boyish grin gleamed between his cheeks, wrapping his arms around you to engulf you in a tight hug against his chest, the two of you laughing to yourself in disbelief that you had finally made it here- that only a few short moments, the two of you got to begin the rest of your forevers together. “Can I- Can I kiss you?” He asked in a soft whisper, pulling back to tilt his head towards yours, sliding one of his hands up to gently cup your cheek, shifting your gaze up towards him. 

“What kind of question is that, you dork?” You teased, bringing your mouth close enough to his to let your lips barely ghost over one anothers, butterflies swarming in a sea of excitement. 

“Because I’m afraid if I start kissing you, I’m not gonna be able to stop.” 

“Do your worst, Peña.” 

As if time began to move in slow motion, your mouths met with an electric and tender intensity, slowly becoming a mix of tangled tongues and teeth, your hand sneaking under the opening of Javi’s suit jacket to wrap around his waist as the grip around your face began to tighten, your bodies melting together as one in a nearly magical moment- Well, as magical as it could get before being interrupted by all your friends and family that had gathered on the front porch to share in the moment with you. 

“Hey! Lovebirds! Jesus Christ, save it for the ceremony!” Steve shouted, a chorus of laughter erupting behind him, startling you and Javi. 

“Good Lord, Steve, give it a rest. They missed each other!” Connie sighed, shaking her head at her husband’s loud interruption. 

“Yeah, that’s our sister, you pervert!” David chimed in, the familiarity of his taunting voice making you roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips as you stared back at the crowd. 

“Will you can it, you dingus? It’s their wedding day for Christ’s sake!” Your dad groaned, slapping David in the back of the head. 

“Daddy, what’s a pervert?” Olivia asked, looking over at Charlie as Chucho held her against his hip, grimacing as he tried not to laugh at the exchange. 

“Seriously David, really? Grow up! They’re so adorable, let your sister have this.” Your mom scolded, promptly giving him another whack to the stomach, you and Javi now laughing to each other at the scene that was unfolding in front of you on the porch. 

“Well,” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge, “It seems like everyone else has been able to solve the ‘you not being able to stop kissing me’ problem.” 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi sighed to himself, running his hand over his face as he stared back into the crowd watching you and him, “Can we get a few more minutes to ourselves before the ceremony? Please? I haven’t seen her all day.” 

“C’mon, let’s give the two some privacy. Lindas (cuties), why don’t we go look to make sure all the flowers are ready. Maybe we can practice walking down the aisle again?” Cucho smiled at the two of you, giving Javi a subtle wink as the girls began to giggle with delight, racing off to the backyard in a fit of squeals of excitement. 

“We’ll do another check of everything, too, I wanna make sure everything’s in place before the ceremony. Do you mind helping, Connie? Boys, will you go check to make sure all the food and drinks are ready for cocktail hour” Your mom asked, picking up on Chucho’s hint to give the two of you some space, now trying to rope your dad, brothers and Steve into that equation as well. 

“Can I have a beer if I help?” 

“Jesus Christ, David.” 

Everyone's conversations began to trail as they headed their separate ways, leaving you and Javi standing in the front yard alone, once again,  looking at each other with mischievous grins- Yours from knowing damn well that Javi had something up his sleeve, and Javi’s from the something stored up there. 

“What’s that look for, Jav?” You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Javi as you waited for him to let you in on whatever plan he had brewing in his brain. 

“I think… I think that I really have to go to the bathroom.” Javi replied, boyish grin glowing between his cheeks as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. 

“And you’re really making it seem like going to the bathroom is a two person job.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Baby, the ceremony is gonna start in an hour, everyone’s here and I don’t think there’s gonna be enough-” 

Before you could finish your thought, Javi was swallowing the rest of your sentence in a long, deep kiss, only pulling away to quietly rasp in your ear. 

“Is that a challenge, Osita? I promise I’ll be fast, baby, you just look so fucking beautiful, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it if I can’t have my wife all to myself, even if it’s just for a few minutes. ” 

“God, you’re such a drama queen.” You sighed with a snicker, heat creeping in your core knowing that you had just as little self control as Javi did, peeking your head to make sure that everyone had dispersed before they watched you and Javi sneak inside together. “We have to be quick, okay? I just don’t want-AH! Javi!” You squealed as Javi was scooping you off your feet mid sentence, very fittingly carrying you bridal style across the front yard and up the steps of the porch, nudging the door open with his hip, the two of you all giggles and smiles as he whisked you through the house, stopping at his childhood bedroom, promptly setting you on the ground to shut the door behind him. 

With a click of the lock and a rattle of the door handle to make sure they were safe from intruders, Javi’s hands were all over you in an instant, his mouth crashing into yours as he walked you back towards the ensuite attached to his bedroom, hoisting you up onto the kitchen sink as he shut the bathroom door behind him for an extra layer of protection. 

You could tell how hard Javi was trying to keep himself in check, considering the amount of time and effort that had gone into your hair and makeup, and the delicacy of your dress, but it was taking every ounce of self control he had to not rip it right off you. Softly letting his kisses trail down your body, Javi began to sink to his knees, smirking up at you with his awestruck gaze as he carefully began to lift up the layers of your dress, running his hands up and down your bare thighs. 

“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are, Osita? Fuck, I can’t believe you’re gonna be my wife. My beautiful, amazing, perfect wife.” The hot breath of his words danced against your skin as Javi peppered soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, his head almost disappearing underneath your dress as he creeped closer and closer to your core, already soaked with your arousal waiting for Javi’s touch. “You’re mine forever, Hermosa. Fuck, I’m so lucky. I love you so much.” 

“I-I love you too, Javi.” You whined, your breath already shaky as Javi’s fingers hooked around the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your legs and letting them drop to the floor below you before letting his fingers glide through your folds, already glistening with your arousal. 

“Fuck, you’re already so wet, baby. Can’t believe this perfect pussy is all mine forever too. God, you’re so fucking perfect. Everything about you. Mmmm, I know we don’t have a lot of time, but I have to taste you, Hermosa. Can I, baby?” Javi mewled, making you gasp as he gently slid two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down. 

“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, Fu-ahhhhh.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked a long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine. 

While Javi would have loved to take every second of his sweet time to savor in watching you fall apart on his tongue, he knew just as well as you that he was working on a limited schedule, and wanted, no, needed to make sure he could get you off at least once before his luck ran out. 

Javi began to work his tongue against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your heat, his free hand hooking around your thigh and draping it over his shoulder, digging his fingertips into the meat of your flesh, like he was trying to ground himself more than you. 

You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as, his lips now latching around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around Javi’s fingers with every movement of his mouth against you. 

“That’s it, mi amor.” Javi cooed, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Forever. I’ve always got you. Promento (I promise).” 

Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen 

“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so cl-ooohhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips. 

Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder, shuttering at the loss of Javi’s fingers inside you. He carefully pulled them out, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face. 

“Tastes so fucking sweet. My wife tastes so fucking sweet. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” Javi chuckled with a boyish grin, gently cupping his hand under your chin as the other wrapped around your waist. 

“Get over what? Calling me your wife or eating me out?” You giggled, still trying to catch your breath as you came down from your high, biting down on your lip as your arms draped over Javi’s shoulders, your fingers tracing soft circles at the nape of his neck. 

“Both. Fuck, I love you so much.” 

“I love you so much too, you menace.” You smiled, tilting your head back to kiss Javi again, so blissfully lost in the moment, that the two of you both about jumped out of your skin when you heard a loud knock coming from the bedroom door. 

“Jav? You in here, buddy?” 

“Goddamnit, Murph…” 

The familiar twang of Steve’s voice made you freeze in fear, Javi quickly helping you down off the counter as he cursed to himself before the two of you were trying your best to fix yourselves up in the mirror to try and hide any signs of the horny whirlwind that had blown through the bathroom. 

“Javi?” Steve called out again, continuing to knock on the door. 

“Yeah, I’m here, just uh- Just give me a second, Murph.” Javi sighed, the two of you trying to keep from laughing at your current predicament, wondering how the hell Javi was going to talk you both out of this one. 

“What’s the plan, Peña?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge as he carefully turned the knob to the bathroom door. 

“To tell Murph to fuck off if he tries to give me shit.” The two of you quietly snorted, feeling a little less guilty than you would have if it wasn’t your wedding day. “You stay here, okay? I’ll take care of him.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as he opened the door. 

“God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Osita.” 

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Javi took a few deep breaths as he ran his hands through his hair, turning the knob to open up his bedroom door to be greeted by an unamused Steve leaning in the door frame. 

“What’s up, Murph? We were just, uh-” Javi asked, trying his best to stay casual. 

“I fuckin’ knew it. Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, you horny bastard.” Steve groaned, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Y’all haven’t even made it to the ceremony yet! Jesus Fuckin’ Christ. Everyone’s been lookin’ for y’all. I had a fuckin’ feeling this is what you two were up two, and as your Best Man, I’ll cover for your ass now, but I sure as shit ain’t doin’ this all night for you two rabbits. Now c’mon, Casanova, go get your wife from in there and come outside. Remember that thing y’all gotta do where you actually go get married?” Steve teased, slapping Javi in the chest before shaking his head at his friend, his cheeks pink in embarrassment as his eyes darted to the floor. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be out in a second.” Javi grumbled sheepishly, quietly accepting defeat. 

“An actual second, ya hear? Not a horny Javier Peña second, or I swear to God.” Steve groaned, raising an eyebrow at Javi. 

“Promise.” 

“Alright then. Chop, chop, Mr. Peña. Let’s go get your ass married.” Steve laughed, grabbing Javi by the shoulder before giving him a little shake and disappearing back down the hallway. 

Hearing Steve’s voice and footsteps fade, you slowly peeked your head out of the bathroom door to see Javi standing by himself, head buried in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning back to see your face, equally embarrassed as his. 

“... He knew, didn’t he?” You grimaced, now fully opening the door and walking through to meet Javi on the other side. 

“Yup.” Javi sighed, adding an extra emphasis to the “p” with a pop. 

“Well… Either Steve has the world’s most unlucky timing, or he just needs to do a better job of minding his business.” The two of you snickered, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared up at Javi. “Or maybe someone needs to stop being such a bad influence.” You teased, poking Javi in the chest. 

“Me? I’m the bad influence? Okay.” Javi chuckled, teasing you right back. “Sorry I’m getting married to the hottest woman alive and I can’t help myself. My gorgeous wife is one not making it any easier on me.” 

“Still not technically your wife yet, you dork.” 

“Close enough.” 

Grabbing you by your waist, Javi pulled you flush against chest, tilting his head in for a long, tender kiss- the kind that made heat creep through your cheeks and butterflies churn in your stomach, the kind that made your heart beat a million miles a minute, the kind that seemed to make everything else in the world stand still, even if just for a moment. The kind of kiss that made you know without a single doubt that you had never been more in love than you were at this very moment. 

“I love you, Javi.” 

“I love you too, Osita.” 

“You wanna go get married?” 

“Mrs. Peña,” Javi grinned, grabbing your hand to interlock it with his, “There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more in my fucking life.”

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3 @chaotic-iguana

[baelabong]

ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴍᴀɴ (ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴇʏᴇ)

ɪᴅᴏʟ!ꜱᴏᴘʜɪᴀ x ɪᴅᴏʟ!ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Plot: you and sophia are the guests for the running man episode, just xute interactions tbh, no warnings

Pairing: Sophia la forteza x Fem! Idol! Reader

Rq: yessir

Bong’s note: mannn i need someone to rizz me up like how sophia casuallg asked y/n out (acting as if my partner doesnt spoil me)

“Welcome back to another episode of Running Man!!!”, the cast members shout together

“Today, we have two special guests. One is a rookie, the other has been in the industry for a while so I guess that makes her a grandma”, Jihyo joked

“Heyyyyyy”, a voice can be heard off camera.

The camera pans to the left revealing y/n in water activities attire, ready for todays games.

The small girl runs towards Jihyo, tackling her into a hug before introducing herself saying “hello everyone! It’s y/n from Blackpink!! I promise i’m not old”,making everybody laugh.

“And the other guest is ….. Sophia from the newest global group Katseye!”, Jongkook yelled out in excitement making Jihyo sideeye him

The camera quickly shifts to reveal Sophia, standing just a few feet away, dressed in a matching water activities outfit. Her expression is a mix of excitement and a hint of shyness as she waves to the cast and crew. The soft-spoken idol gives a small bow, her cheeks tinted with a light blush as she greets everyone.

"Hello! I’m Sophia from Katseye. It’s an honor to be here!" she says, her voice clear yet sweet, earning a chorus of welcoming cheers from the cast.

As Sophia straightens up, her eyes meet Y/N’s for the first time. There’s a brief moment where everything seems to pause, the rest of the world fading away as the two idols take each other in. Y/N’s face lights up with recognition, her smile widening in delight.

"Sophia!" Y/N exclaims, practically bouncing on her feet as she closes the gap between them. She reaches out, pulling Sophia into an enthusiastic hug. "I can’t believe we’re finally meeting in person!"

Sophia’s initial surprise quickly melts into a soft giggle as she returns the hug, her arms wrapping around Y/N gently. "I’ve been looking forward to this too, unnie. I’ve watched so many of your performances… it’s like meeting a real-life superhero!"

Y/N pulls back slightly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Superhero? Now you’re just trying to flatter me," she teases, playfully nudging Sophia’s shoulder.

"No, I mean it!" Sophia insists, her expression sincere. "You’ve been a huge inspiration to me. Getting to work with you today is a dream come true."

Touched by Sophia’s words, Y/N gives her a warm smile, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. "Well, I’m excited to team up with you too. Let’s show everyone what we’ve got!"

—————-

Sophia crouched low, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of movement. Her heart pounded in her chest as she crept along the edge of the wall, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The sound of her own breathing was loud in her ears, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand: tearing off the name tags of the opposing team.

She rounded a corner and froze. Just a few feet away, Y/N was peeking out from behind a pillar, her eyes wide with fear as she caught sight of Sophia.

"Sophia, don't do this!" Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and playfulness. "We're supposed to be friends!"

Sophia’s lips curled into a mischievous smile as she took a step closer, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s. "I won’t hurt you, unnie," she promised, her voice soft but teasing. "Just stand still, okay?"

Y/N’s eyes widened even more, and she bit her lip, trying to figure out a way to escape. But as she took a step back, her foot slipped, and she stumbled forward, landing right in Sophia’s arms.

Sophia caught her easily, her arms wrapping around Y/N’s waist to steady her. The two girls stared at each other for a moment, the tension between them palpable.

"I guess I’m out of luck, huh?" Y/N said softly, looking up at Sophia with a pout that made her heart skip a beat.

Sophia smirked, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of Y/N’s face. "Maybe… but I can’t let you off that easily. How about we make a deal? I’ll tear off your name tag, but I’ll protect you for the rest of the game."

Y/N’s pout turned into a small smile, and she nodded. "You’ll be my bodyguard? Sounds like a good deal."

Sophia chuckled and held out her hand, and Y/N hesitated for only a moment before raising her arms in surrender, letting Sophia gently pull off her name tag. Sophia pocketed the tag, her fingers lingering on Y/N’s for just a second longer than necessary.

"Deal," Sophia said, her voice softening. "Stick with me, unnie. I’ll make sure no one else gets to you."

Y/N’s smile widened, and she nodded, falling into step beside Sophia as they continued through the game, side by side.

——————

The sound of rushing water filled the air as the Running Man members gathered around the edge of the pool, eyeing the narrow, wobbly bridge that stretched across it. Sophia glanced at Y/N, who was standing next to her, her hands gripping the straps of her safety harness tightly.

Sophia smiled, trying to reassure her. "Don’t worry, unnie. You’ve got this."

Y/N looked at her with wide eyes, her voice shaking slightly as she replied, "Sophia, don’t shoot me!"

Sophia couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable plea, lowering the water gun she was holding. "I won’t, I promise. But you have to focus, okay? Just look at me."

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath before stepping onto the bridge. She kept her eyes on Sophia, her expression one of pure concentration as she carefully placed one foot in front of the other.

But the bridge swayed beneath her, and Y/N’s balance faltered. She let out a small yelp, her arms flailing as she tried to steady herself. The heavy item she was carrying slipped from her grasp, splashing into the water below.

"Sophia! Help!" Y/N cried, her voice tinged with panic as she felt herself tipping dangerously to the side.

Without hesitation, Sophia dropped her water gun and rushed to the edge of the platform. "Don’t worry, I’m here!" she called out, reaching out her hand.

Y/N grabbed onto Sophia’s hand, her grip tight and desperate. With a gentle but firm pull, Sophia helped Y/N regain her balance, guiding her to the end of the bridge where she collapsed onto the platform, breathing heavily.

"You really saved me there, Sophia," Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude as she looked up at her.

Sophia grinned, helping her to her feet. "I told you I’ve got you, unnie."

Y/N smiled, a soft blush coloring her cheeks as she squeezed Sophia’s hand in silent thanks.

—————

The game of hide-and-seek was well underway, and the tension in the room was high as the Running Man members darted from one hiding spot to another. Sophia was on a mission to find a hidden item, but she knew she had to be careful not to get caught by the opposing team.

She was searching through a pile of props when she heard a familiar voice from across the room. "Oh, hey, have you seen Sophia? I think she’s looking for something."

Sophia’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized Y/N’s voice. She glanced up, just in time to see Y/N casually leading the other team members in the opposite direction. Sophia quickly ducked behind a large cardboard cutout, holding her breath as the other team members walked right past her.

Once the coast was clear, Y/N circled back, her eyes scanning the room until she spotted Sophia’s hiding spot. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she crouched down next to Sophia.

"Did I do good, Sophia?" Y/N whispered, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Sophia couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to pat Y/N’s head gently. "You were perfect, unnie. You’re a natural at this."

Y/N beamed with pride, her grin widening. "Just so you know, I’m rooting for you. So let’s win this together, okay?"

Sophia felt a warm rush of affection for the older girl, nodding in agreement. "Deal. But if we win, I’m buying you dinner."

Y/N’s cheeks flushed a light pink, and she playfully nudged Sophia. "You’re on!"

[novaursa]

Hi, can I request a rhaenicent x reader (male or female, your choice) . Reader is a Targaryen and a renowned fighter of the seven kingdoms. They win a joust and crown both Rhaenyra and Alicent as their Queens of love and beauty. Thanks !

A Crown to Share

- Summary: Your father sneaks you into the tourney. You win and name Rhaenyra and Alicent as Queens of Love and Beauty.

- Paring: Alicent Hightower/female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: The reader is Daemon's daughter.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The tourney grounds of King’s Landing are alive with energy. Banners flutter in the crisp morning air, the vibrant colors of houses across the realm proudly displayed. Lords and ladies fill the stands, their anticipation palpable as they murmur about the events to come. It’s an impressive gathering, with knights in resplendent armor lining up, each determined to win glory and honor.

In the center of the commotion, unnoticed, stands a lone figure clad in polished steel. Beneath the ornate breastplate and mail, your heart races. The helm hides your face, and the crest upon your shield and surcoat are unmarked, giving no indication of your true identity. Daemon had made certain that no one would suspect a thing. You are just another knight among many, your true nature concealed.

“You’re certain about this?” he had asked that morning, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and amusement. He had always encouraged your fiery spirit, your desire to fight, to be seen as more than a princess. But even he knew the risk you were taking today.

“More than anything,” you had replied, determination hardening your voice.

And now, standing here, you feel the weight of those words. The clamor of the crowd fades as you focus on the task ahead, your grip tightening around the lance in your hand. The lists are set, the first match called. Knights clash, wood splinters, and steeds rear, the cheers and groans of the crowd rising with each decisive blow. You watch, feeling your pulse quicken, every victory feeding the fire within you.

When your turn comes, you spur your mount forward. The world narrows to the length of the tilt, your opponent a looming shadow ahead. With a shout, you charge, your lance leveled, heart steady. The impact is shattering. Your opponent is thrown back, the crowd roaring as he falls, unhorsed and sprawled in the dust.

From his seat high above, Daemon watches, a smirk curling his lips. His eyes never leave you, and you feel his gaze, feel the silent encouragement in it. He knows you are capable; he has trained you himself, after all.

Round after round, you fight with the skill and ferocity Daemon instilled in you. Each victory feels like a triumph, but your true goal is yet to come. As the final match is called, the stands hold their breath. You face the last challenger, a knight famed for his prowess. The clash is brutal, each blow ringing like thunder in your ears. But you are relentless, pushing him back until, with a final, powerful strike, you send him crashing to the ground.

The crowd erupts. You dismount, every step measured, your breath heavy inside your helm. The herald’s voice booms, announcing the victor. And then, in one smooth motion, you remove your helmet.

Gasps ripple through the stands. Shock spreads like wildfire as your hair spills free, your face revealed to all. Whispers of disbelief, of awe, rise as those who know you recognize the daughter of Daemon Targaryen, the cousin of Rhaenyra.

Daemon’s smirk widens, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He leans back in his seat, watching the chaos you’ve unleashed with a mixture of pride and amusement. You’ve done what no one would have expected, proven yourself in the eyes of the realm.

With steady hands, you take the crown of winter roses from the squire beside you, its delicate petals a stark contrast to the hardened steel of your armor. The crowd watches, silent now, as you cross the field to the royal box where Rhaenyra and Alicent sit.

Rhaenyra’s eyes are wide, her lips parted in surprise. Alicent’s gaze flickers between you and Rhaenyra, a flush rising in her cheeks. You meet Rhaenyra’s gaze, your heart pounding in a rhythm that has nothing to do with the battle just fought.

“Father,” you had asked your father the night before, voice soft, hesitant. “Do you think they’ll understand?”

Daemon had laughed, his hand resting on your shoulder. “If they don’t, my daughter, they will have to learn.”

Now, standing before them, you kneel, offering the crown to Rhaenyra first. “Princess,” you say, your voice carrying over the hushed crowd, “I name you Queen of Love and Beauty.” The roses gleam as she takes the crown, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she places it upon her head.

You turn to Alicent then, your heart a fierce, steady beat. “And you, Lady Alicent,” you continue, your eyes meeting hers, “I name you Queen of Love and Beauty as well.”

There is a moment of stunned silence, then the crowd erupts once more, a roar of approval and shock. You smile, something wry and secretive, feeling the weight of their gazes.

“You’ll have to share the crown,” you say softly, just for them, and something in Rhaenyra’s eyes lights up, a spark of warmth that matches the one in Alicent’s. The tension between them is visible, an unspoken bond that you’ve only ever seen glimpses of.

“Bold as your father,” Rhaenyra murmurs, her voice carrying a note of admiration.

“Bolder, perhaps,” Alicent adds, and you catch the way their hands brush as they each hold a side of the crown, their smiles hidden but present.

As you rise, the cheers of the crowd washing over you, you feel something settle in your chest. You’ve done more than win a tourney today. You’ve made a statement, to the realm, to your family, and, most importantly, to yourself. Daemon’s laughter, rich and proud, echoes across the field, and you know he, too, understands the significance of what you’ve done.

The day may be ending, but this victory, and what it represents, will linger long after the sun sets over King’s Landing.

[sxxythingz]

Something different

Neteyam Sully (21) x Ometikaya fem! Reader (21)

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), handjob, squirting, cursing, p n v, aged up characters, cream pie

🛑MDNI🛑

Summary: You and Neteyam had been dating for a while, you always were really fluff, never anything further than a kiss. One day, you decide to take it a step further.

WC: 2.6K

You’re sitting in your hut sharpening your knife when you hear the leaves around your hut ruffling, signaling that someone is coming, making you turn your head towards the entrance to see who is coming. Neteyam pushes the sheet covering your door open, showing himself as he smiles wide with one hand behind his back as he fully enters your hut, making you quickly stand up as you place your hands on your hip, giving him a bright smile.

“Nete. What are you doing here? I thought that you were off with your family today.” You step closer to him attempting to get a glance at what he’s hiding behind him before he backs away from you to prevent you from seeing it. “Aht. No peeking, yawne. I have been with my family all day, but Tuk was teaching me how to make jewelry, so I made something for you. I hope that you like it.” He plants a kiss on your forehead before bringing his hands in front of him, revealing what he was hiding.

“Oh Nete. It’s beautiful.. What is it?” You take the jewelry in your own hands, fiddling with the vibrant beads and shells that go all around the round band. “It is called waist beads. I thought that it would look good on you and I couldn’t help but make it for you. Try it on to see if it fits you perfectly.” You stare into his eyes, bringing the waist beads over your head and down your body until it reaches the middle of your toned stomach, fitting your waist just right.

“How do you like it?” You ask him as you slowly do a 360 turn around for him to see the waist beads in all of their entirety. While your back is turned to him, you feel his hands reach for your waist as he pulls you towards him, your back touching his chest while your breath birches in your throat. “They’re perfect in your body just as I knew that they would be. The colors fit your skin perfectly, my love.” He leans into your ear, slowly whispering each word before giving your ear a small kiss, then flipping you around to face him. Your eyes slowly blink at him as he brings his face to yours, warming your lips with his instantly.

Your hands reach up to grab his face, pulling him closer into you as you deepen the kiss. You and Neteyam have been together for a few months, you spend almost every day together, you even go to all of his training sessions just to watch him. It’s like a friendship, but so much deeper for the both of you. Although your relationship seems to have everything, it is missing one thing. Sex.

Neteyam was a virgin when you met him, he had never done anything with anyone, not even a kiss. You had the honors of being his first kiss, but you guys haven’t made it past kissing just yet, considering that every time you tried, he would instantly back away and today was no different for him, but you had other ideas.

You deepen the kiss, making him open his mouth as you gain his easy access to slide your soft tongue into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck as he firmly grips your waist. You moan as his grip gets harder with each second passing, wanting more than anything to jump on him and have him fully claim you as his, marking you with his scent and telling everyone to back off without saying a single word.

“Wait.. stop.” Neteyam pulls back from you like he normally does, panting hard as he tries to calm himself down. “W-We should probably stop right here, yawne.” He hesitantly pants out, looking away from you to avoid direct eye contact. You step up to him, your hand gently caressing his chest while you stare at his stunning facial features that take your breath away for every second that you look.

“No. I want to do something different today.” He finally makes eye contact with you, taken back by your words, his eyebrow immediately cocked up. “ I-I don’t unders-" "Sit ma Teyam.” You demand as you slightly push him back, guiding him towards the woven chair that you made to go into your hut for anyone who visits to sit in. He plops down in the seat, eyes bearing into yours curiously as you bring your face close to his for another peck on the lips before you spread his legs, slowly sinking your body down in between them on your knees as you run your soft hands up and down his strong thighs causing shivers to run down his spine as he inhaled deeply.

“Do you trust me, my love?” You bat your eyes at him as he grips the sides of the chair, trying his hardest to contain himself and his inner thoughts. “I-I trust you, yawne.” His voice weakened at the sight of you on your knees in front of him. “Do you love me?” You ask another question as your hands creep further up his thighs, slowly reaching the prominent bulge poking out from his loincloth. “I love you more than anything.” His simple words make your heart flutter as you leave kisses along his thighs, bringing groans out of his throat that he was trying so hard to contain.

“Let me take care of you, ma Teyam. Please.” You mutter out, in more of a begging tone as your hand reaches over to the string of his loincloth, softly pulling at it while his eyes flicker to your hand to watch it. His words stuck in his throat as he swallows hard, tilting his hip over to the side to allow you full access to the string of his loincloth. You pull the string, completely loosening his loincloth and pulling it from him before dropping it to the ground, leaving him exposed to you.

You smirk at the sight of precum dripping from the head of his dick, this is the first time you’ve ever seen it and you can honestly say he was way bigger than you could’ve imagined. You slowly bring your finger up to the tip, collecting some of the precum on it as he hisses, bucking his hips and throwing his head back at the motion. He looks back at you as he watches you bring the digit back up to your lips, slipping it in your mouth and you close your eyes and moan softly.

“Mmm… You taste just like an exotic fruit, my love. So sweet.” Your words alone make his dick flinch as his ears spring up and eyes widen. You bring your hand back to him, wrapping your long fingers around him and moving your hand up and down slowly as he breathes out. “Fuck…” He moans out as you go back to kissing his thighs and tightening your grasp ever so gently. You move your hand back up to the tip of his dick, rubbing your thumb over it to collect more precum and using it to lubricate your hand a little more.

“Shit, Y/n…” He groans under his breath as his ears fall to his skull, making you smile as you watch him weaken under your touch. You speed up the pace of your movement, twisting your wrist as he looks into your eyes, his seeming to have turned a dark green color that you’ve never seen. Most of the time, his eyes are filled with love, but this time is different. This time they’re filled with… lust. And you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t enjoying every minute of this.

“Does that feel good baby?” You innocently ask him as you watch him helplessly pant, his knuckles turning white from gripping the chair so tightly. “Y- Fuck! Yes, it feels fucking amazing!” He growls out as he bucks his hips into your hand. “I feel like I-I’m going to cum.” He breathes out as he thrusts into your hand harder. “Go ahead baby. Cum for me.” His hips come to a halt as his legs begin to shake, his nose scrunching up while he curses under his breath. You watch as hotspurs of his cum shoot out of his dick, landing all over his stomach as he heavily pants and breathes out.

You let go of him as you stare at his toned stomach, eyeing the cum with a smirk painted on your lips as his head falls back, trying his hardest to catch his breath. You lean up further, licking his stomach cleaned as he looks back down at you, taken back by your sudden movement. “It tastes so good… I need more.” Before he can say anything, you grip onto his dick once again making him gasp. “Wait! I-I can’t-“ “You can baby. One more for me. I want to feel you inside of my mouth. Just one more and I’ll stop.” You cut him off as you begin to move your hand up and down his hard dick once again.

You lean up, palming him one more time before you slide him into your mouth, his hand flying to the back of your head as he firmly grasps your hair. “Shit!” He growls out as you bob your head up and down, already feeling the tip twitch in your mouth. Your eyes intensely stare into his as you slowly blink, swirling your tongue around the tip. You close your eyes, pushing the rest of him in your mouth as he touches the back of your throat, making you gag.

He accidentally thrusts his hips up even more, pushing him even further into your throat as you quickly come up for a breath before coughing. “Shit! I’m so sorry, yawne. I didn’t mean to do that.” Guilt covers his face as tears welled up in your eyes as you wipe them away and back away from him to give him room to stand up from the chair.

“Don’t apologize baby. Stand.” He tilts his head in confusion, but quickly follows your directions and stands up straight in front of you as you continue to bow to him on your knees. You massage his muscular legs as he moans softly. “Y/n. What are you-“ He starts to ask you a question, but you quickly interrupt him with words that he never thought he would hear from you.

“I want you to fuck my face.”

His eyes widen at your words as his ears perk all the way up. “You-You want me to..” He stands taken back by your question before you pull him all the way to you by the back of his legs. “Show me how good I really make you feel.” You say before you open your mouth, him immediately guiding himself back into your mouth. He slowly thrusts himself into your mouth, reaching behind you to pull your hair into a ponytail, his hand as your band to keep your hair in one place. “F-Fuck… this feels so good.” His thrusts slowly pick up as he watches himself slide in and out of your mouth.

“You look so fucking pretty taking my dick in your mouth baby.” The words soaking your loincloth as you reach down, sliding it to the side to rub your pussy to the sound of his moans and groans. He thrusts harder into your throat, tears beginning to fall down your face as you moan on his dick, making his body jolt. “Shit! I’m about to cum again. I’m gonna cum down that pretty little throat of yours, is that what you want, hm?” He thrusts harder as you try your best to breathe through your nose until you feel him stop all of his movement once again. You feel him cum in your mouth as he holds your head in one place, making sure that you get every single drop and you swallow it all.

He pulls out of your mouth, allowing you to inhale sharply as a line of spit falls from your lip as you both catch your breath. You look up at Neteyam as he smiles, automatically igniting a smile from you as well. He helps you up, grabbing you by your face to bring you in for a sloppy kiss, his tongue automatically sliding into your mouth as you moan. You feel his hand reach over to the string off your loincloth as he unties it and lets it fall to the ground.

He picks you up by the back of your thighs, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks to your cot and laying you down flat before he lays on top of you, breaking the kiss. “I need to be inside of you right now.” He commands as he places his legs around his waist again, rubbing his tip up and down your soaking slit, making your back arch off of your cot.

“I thought you said you couldn’t go again.” You smirk at him before pecking his lips again. You feel him push himself into you as you moan loudly, sinking your nails into his back. “I can go one more time to feel this pussy.” He growls in your ear as he starts to thrusts deeply inside of you. “Fuck Neteyam!” He kisses your ear, leading down to your neck before he bites at your sensitive skin, sure to leave marks for other people to see later.

You feel yourself clench around him, making him groan before he gets up to watch him pound in and out of you at a fast pace. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles around it as you try to close your legs from the overstimulation. “No baby. Open your legs, don’t close up on me. Open your pretty legs.” He forces your legs back open, making you let out a moan as your hand reaches to his other one for him to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“N-Neteyam… I’m about to cum.” You stutter out as he quickly pastes in and out of you, his thumb matching the rhythm of his thrusts on your clit. “Oh my-“ You feel your pussy getting wetter than usual as your stomach fills with warmth as your back arches off of the cot once again. “Shit..” You hear Neteyam whisper as his thrusts become sloppier, you hear sloshing sounds as you feel your legs getting wetter but not even bothering to look down as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Neteyam firmly grips your waist, roughly thrusting into you a few more times before he approaches his third orgasm of the day, his eyes rolling just like yours as he stutters inaudible words out, his entire body shaking as well as yours. Your hips glued to each others as you both pant, your stomach quickly rising and falling with your eyes closed as you level your breathing.

Neteyam pulls out of you, falling beside you as he lets out one more sigh, you looking over to notice his eyes slowly opening and closing. You turn over on your side and lay your head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat as you smile.

“Sooo…” You look up at him as he wraps his arm around your body, rubbing your back slowly. “How was your first time?” You giggle as he fingers reach the side of your stomach, tickling it gently. “It was fucking amazing, my love. I don’t know why I was so nervous about it, but I do know one thing.” You hum in response to him as he looks over to you, your eyes moving down to his dick as it begins to harden once again and you gulp.

“I want more.”

A/N: Ok so I’ve been working on this one for a few days because I wanted to make sure that this one came out great and I love itttt!! So I hope you guys love it as well! Enjoy 💕

[vettelsvee]

THIS IS ALL MY FAULT | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

sebastian vettel x platonic!photographer!reader

based on this request: Okay! So after watching the run Sebastian organized at Imola, I has the idea of reader being someone that works for him (not sure what for though) maybe getting really sick for running in the rain that day, which ends up with Sebastian feeling guilty over it. It’s a silly idea, really, but I think it has a lot of potential to vibes similar to what Sebastian seems to have with the drivers, kind of playing dad to the grid 🥺.

summary: you work as a photographer during the forever senna tribute seb prepared, but you end up being sick

word count: 1618

warnings: none of them really! seb feeling guilty because he thinks reader got sick because of him.

a/n: I'm finally back! sorry for not posting at all during all this past month, university has had me really stressed but I'm finally free from it until september! idk if this is actually something well written because i haven't written anything for a month! also, hope you anon like this even it's definitely crap 😭

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The rain kept falling on the circuit, but that wasn't such an excuse for Sebastian and his team to cancel what they had been working on for months.

The run that the retired driver had decided to organize on Thursday not only with Formula 1 drivers, but also with those from Formula 2 and 3, and even other members of the sport, in honor of Ayrton Senna and Roland Ratzenberger, was more than perfect. It was an absolute success. And Sunday, when Vettel would drive the car that once belonged to the Brazilian pilot who died 30 years ago on that same circuit, hadn't even arrived yet.

You had been busy taking photos of everything, as you were Sebastian's official photographer. Now, you were gathering all the equipment you had used because the cold you were enduring was barely bearable. You had been out in the rain all day, following Seb wherever he went, which had made you feel increasingly worse. Now, your hands couldn't stop shaking, and you felt like you were about to faint at any moment.

"Y/N, are you okay?" one of the team members asked.

"Yes, of course," you replied with a weak smile. "I'm just a bit cold. I'll be back to be the same me as soon as we get back to the hotel."

The man nodded, not wanting to press you further despite not being very convinced by your words after seeing your completely pale face.

You decided to continue with your work, ignoring anyone who approached you to exchange even the slightest word. You tried to ignore the growing headache, the fatigue, and the tightness in your chest, which seemed to be worsening. Although the rain had stopped and you were in one of the garages, the sky remained dark.

You were surprised to see Sebastian, still wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, just a few meters away from you. You shook your head, trying not to pay attention, and certainly not to worry. He was just your "boss," so to speak, and he was old enough to know what he needed to do to avoid getting sick. Well, he also had Britta, who was like a second mother to him.

A sharp pain pierced your temples. You staggered slightly, and if it hadn't been for your momentum making you lean your back against the wall behind you, you would have fallen to the ground.

"For God's sake, Y/N, you look terrible," he said as calmly as he could, though you could sense his nerves in his tone of voice. "You should go and have a rest. Like… now."

"Seb, we still have a lot to do. It's not just packing up the equipment, but also transferring the photos to the computer, editing them, then preparing the posts for you Instagram account..."

"Y/N, I love your work, but you've done more than enough for today," he interrupted, putting a hand on your shoulder, running his fingers carefully over it. "Now, I'll talk to Britta and we'll assign it to someone who knows what they're doing, okay?"

For a moment, you considered protesting, reproaching him that this was your job, and that's why he wanted you on his team since shortly before leaving Aston Martin, but the way he looked at you made you stop. He seemed worried, very worried. That's why you ended up not only reluctantly accepting but also letting him guide you to a nearby chair.

"Stay here. I'll bring you something warm."

As you watched Seb walk away, you sighed, managing to relax somehow. You saw him enter the Red Bull hospitality, and you assumed it was where he felt most comfortable. A few minutes later, you saw the blonde with two small steaming cardboard cups. As he reached your height, he offered you one of them.

"Thank you," you murmured, wrapping your hands around the cup and taking a sip. Chocolate, something you loved, and Seb knew it perfectly.

"Do you promise you'll go back to the hotel as soon as you finish your hot chocolate?"

"I promise," you assured him. "But I can't promise that..."

"Y/N, just no work for today," he cut in, seeing that you weren't going to fulfill what you had promised. "I want you to spend today and tomorrow resting. Sunday will be a tough day for us. You can do it, at least for me, or am I wrong?"

You nodded your head as if you were seven years old again. You knew you were going to rest as much as you could in your hotel room, but that didn't mean you weren't going to do anything. As you had already planned, you were obviously going to continue with your work. You couldn't disappoint Sebastian, not on such an important weekend like this.

[...]

Sebastian accompanied you to the door of your room, and despite having exchanged a couple of messages with you on Friday, having let you rest all afternoon and part of Saturday morning, and having agreed that you would come to a meeting room in the hotel at 12pm on Saturday to finalize the details of tomorrow's tribute, he didn't see you there.

"Have you seen Y/N?" he asked Britta directly, a little distressed. "She told me she would come with no doubt."

"And she did come," the ex-pilot's PR commented, "but I sent her back to her room as soon as I saw her shivering. Her forehead was burning, and she said she had a slight fever. It wasn’t just a slight fever, Seb," Britta assured him.

The man nodded but became even more worried. Quickly bidding farewell to Roeske, he headed towards your room. He saw the door slightly ajar, possibly your mistake. He knocked softly before entering, and the sight that greeted his eyes made him feel bad instantly.

You were curled up in bed, trembling uncontrollably. You had a small towel on your forehead with cold water to see if you could control your body temperature since you couldn't take your medicine again until the corresponding hours had passed, which was already the next day.

Your face was completely flushed, and your breathing was labored.

As soon as you realized Seb's presence, your eyes welled up with tears. You tried to force a smile, but all that came out were tears from how bad you felt not only for Seb to see you like this but also for ruining something so important.

"Seb... You didn't have to come," you stammered, your voice barely audible.

"Of course, I did! Don't be ridiculous!" he responded quickly, sitting beside you. He placed a hand on your forehead and realized Britta was right. "My God, Y/N, you're burning up. Why didn't you tell me you were feeling so bad?"

"I... didn't want to worry you," you admitted between tears of frustration and exhaustion. "Tomorrow is an important day. You need to be resting to give your best tomorrow. There are people who have come just for you, Seb, you can't let them down."

You noticed him tense a bit at the mention. His lips curved, and his jaw tightened. He took a deep breath and took your hand almost without thinking.

"This is my fault..." he whispered softly. He seemed overwhelmed with guilt, and much of it. You cursed yourself for making him think that when it was all really your fault. "Nothing is more important than your health, Y/N. I'm so sorry, really..."

"Seb, it's okay, really. These things happen; it's completely normal. There's probably someone else like me..."

His silence was the response you partly expected, but it didn't hurt until you saw him shake his head.

"I just wanted to give my best so that the photos would turn out perfect and you would have content worthy of all the work you've put into this..." was all you could say.

"You're already the best, Y/N," he said softly, tucking a strand of hair away from your face. "In fact, you're so perfect that you should stop being so perfect to start worrying more about yourself. And since you don't worry about yourself... let me do it for you, okay?"

Although you didn't agree with him and didn't believe you deserved his praise, you were too weak to argue.

Sebastian stayed with you all day, including the night. He made sure you were as comfortable as possible, brought you water, and soaked the cold cloth in water to lower your fever as soon as possible, miraculously something that worked. He didn't leave your side, not even when you had a coughing fit or sneezed without covering your mouth.

Your fever began to lower in the late hours of that day. Your breath calmed down, and the color seemed to return to your cheeks. Seb sighed with relief, quickly hugging you while continuously placing small kisses on your face and playing with your hair, making you laugh incessantly.

After ordering room service for dinner, since your appetite seemed to have returned, you fell asleep, at least apparently. To avoid disturbing you, Seb went from lying down next to you to reclining on a sofa next to the bed. His eyes were heavy with tiredness, but that didn't stop him from staying alert in case you needed his help.

"Rest, Y/N," he whispered, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead before caressing it. "I guess I'll have to take you out to dinner for the damages I caused."

You smiled at the last thing Seb had said, grateful that every time you got sick, you didn't fall into a deep sleep, and wishing that what Seb had said was true.

[edgeray]

BENEATH THE MASK

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Have this Father's Day special oneshot.  enemies to lovers villain arlecchino x hero reader, aka, is it gay to sleep in the same bed as your enemy? Your hero name is Rover, because heheh wuwa reference.  Might make a part 2 if someone wants it.  Content warnings / info - arlecchino is mean and threatens you, arlecchino's pov, gn! reader, 2.2k words

A knock sounds on the front door, making Arlecchino pause in the midst of her meal. A visitor? Certainly, there’s no one she was expecting today, especially at–Arlecchino glances at the clock– 9:18PM. Anyone who she would allow to visit her would text or call beforehand. Should she just pretend that she's not there? Frowning, she sets down the fork on the table. Damn it, she really should install cameras already but she always pushes it back. 

Cautiously peering through the eye hole, her breath hitches and her eyes widen. If she had a heart, it would have sunk into her stomach. Her hands fly to the door handle, unlocking it and flinging it open. 

At her doorstep, you stand there, blood staining your torn and ripped suit as you clutch your arm. There's a knife lodged in your shoulder, and she could see your face– scratched up and bruised. Your pupils are foggy and your expression seems far away, hardly able to direct your attention onto her. Upon seeing her, an abnormal smile finds your face, then, your knees buckle and you tumble into her arms. She catches you effortlessly, slotting her arms behind your back and tugging you into her chest. You go boneless in her grasp.

“What the hell happened to you, Rover?” She demands through gritted teeth while she glances down at you. She carries you into her house, closing the door with a swift kick, doing her best to haul you into her living room and setting you down to lay on her couch. Your blood seeps into the furniture. You wince at the new movement, sharply inhaling.

“Got… into f-fight. With some, some new guy. Real asshole he was. Fucked… fucked him up pretty good,” you force out in between your labored breathing, before you cough out more blood. Your eyes flit over her form.

“Heh… nice sleepwear,” you remark with a trembling, cunning smile. “Who would have known… the notorious Knave sleeps in Hello Kitty pants… you're a lot less scary now… you know? Nice place as well…” 

Arlecchino proceeds to ignore your comment. “How did you find me? Why did you come here? Do you have a fucking death wish, Rover?” She presses on, her hardened features showing no hint of empathy or concern. 

“I'm… smarter than you think. And… I came because… hell, if I know.” You wetly cough. “Didn't have… anywhere else.” 

The two of you know that she won't kill you, at least not now. For as often you found one another on opposite sides, the two of you have come to understand each other. 

Arlecchino breathes in deeply through her nose, processing her enemy's word. Rover has always been a major hindrance in her plans– a constant rose thorn in her side for years, but she always appreciates your grit and strength. You've battled her tens of times, and each fight she can't deny the exhilaration she feels. She's yet to beat you and the vice versa is the same. A frequent dance between players of different sides, somehow the two of you always found the other in each other's paths. It would be romantic if it wasn't outright irritating.  

Only you could truly challenge you and for that it's why the pitiful state you're in disturbs her to no end. You can't die, not here, not now, not when it's not by her hands. She will pry your last breath with her own hands, she will not allow anyone else to have that honor. She wants to see what kind of expression you'd make when she snuffs out your final bit of life. It would be so easy to end you here. To wrap her claws around your pretty neck, watch your pathetic attempts of struggle, savor the despair in your eyes, oh how easy it would be. 

But if there was anything the Knave was, it was not a freeloader. She will not take other people's efforts and use them to further her own goals, which she will strive for by herself alone. If she killed you here, her own dignity would be singed. 

There will come a day when the Rover is brought down, and the perpetrator will be clear: her. Until then, your survival is of the utmost importance, and next? To pay this scum a lesson of who can touch her angel and it is certainly not him. 

“Who is this new villain that's sprung up?”  She questions as she walks to the bathroom, grabbing her first aid kit, cotton balls, and some alcohol. 

“Get this. The Doctor…” The hero then chuckles weakly. “Massive dick.” 

“I see…” the Knave mutters as she approaches you. “Why did you come to me instead of the hospital?” 

“Closer… easier to hide…”

“He was actively hunting you?” 

“His ‘segments’ are still out there… no doubt wanting to finish the job…”

“Segments?”

“His clones.” 

“Why you?” 

“Jealous… of my good looks, maybe…?” 

Arlecchino frowns. So you don't know why. She sits down in between your legs, leaning over you as she observes you, examining any wounds she can see. A couple of cuts on your sleeves and face, a deeper laceration over your sternum, and the knife wound. At least he gave her a little keepsake, though it is just like any cheap, small knife. If he has multiple ‘segments,’ then supplying them with proper weapons would be costly… 

“Can you remove your costume?” Her finger trails over your ribs making you hiss out in agony. 

You shake your hand. “C-can't… can barely lift my arms.” 

The Knave sighs, letting her claws extend out. “I'm going to have to cut it off you.” 

 “Go ahead.”

Deliberately and precisely, she uses one claw to slice open your costume, exposing your chest to her. You flush and squirm slightly before she places the same clawed hand over your stomach, talons pricking your skin. Her fingertips feel impossibly hot, just like her blood flame abilities. Your abdomen muscles flex just from the contact and she can feel it when her frown twitches. 

“Stay still,” she gruffs, piercing red-crossed eyes bores into yours. 

“At least…take me out… to dinner first, Knave,” you snicker. 

“You're insufferable.” 

As she patches you up and tends to the various bruises and cuts you have, a silence forms between the two of you. She notices that throughout the entire interaction, you're peering at her, but not at her hands–her face. 

“Lift your hips. I need to bandage your abdomen.” 

You try to comply, but find yourself barely able to lift it past a little up. You grunt in agony, and then give her puppy eyes. The Knave is a villain. She's able to destroy the city center with the snap of her fingers, has brought down buildings with no effort, and has cremated numerous people. She is either feared by the mass or revered by scums. She would never be defeated by something as commiserable as your pleading expression.

“Do I have to do everything for you? I wonder how I've yet beat you when you're this incompetent injured,” Arlecchino huffs. Her hands grasp your hip, raising your hips until she slides your bottom over her lap, your bent knees on either side of her. The sight resembles something terribly intimate to Arlecchino, and from your flustered appearance, it seems that way to you too.

“Didn't think I would… have the Knave in between… my legs so soon,” you smirk cunningly, wiggling your hips as best as you can to further enunciate your archon-awful humor. One hand of hers finds your thigh before she grips it, claws digging through your costume and nicking into your skin. It's shallow enough to act as a warning but deep enough for you to feel it, a gesture to show that she doesn't appreciate your mouth. 

“Did you forget? We are enemies. Just because I choose not to harm you now does that mean it would be wise to provoke me.”

“Not currently.” 

That much is true. Silence fills between the two of you again. 

“You know… you would be a lot easier to look at without your mask,” you whisper. Arlecchino looks up at you, her stone cold expression betrayed by her eyes, focused intently on you. How you had the audacity to trifle with her, she's uncertain. Perhaps it's just a distraction tactic you’ve turned into a habit, though she's unaware of whether or not you use this with other villains. 

“Are you suggesting I'm rather hard to look at when I do?” She inquires.

“Quite the opposite. You would look even better, though.”

“The reason I wear a mask is the same reason you do.” Though, you don't need to wear yours right now. She already knows where you reside, and your true name. 

“We don't have to wear masks when it's just us, Arlecchino.” The villain shivers at hearing her name come from your lips; it sounds immorally ethereal, wicked to associate something so vile with something as seraphic as your voice. And that voice that's slipped past her rational, calculating thoughts whispers that she'd like to hear you say her name again. It's just as electrifying as when you bellow her villain name in fury. 

She swears that the dead heart inside her chest beats for a moment. 

She comments nothing. She doesn’t enjoy the dalliance your words seem to imply, doesn't like how the air between you becomes thick with something that inspires hunger. She physically turns away from you. 

“I've finished patching you up. Rest is the only thing you can do now. With your regeneration, you should be back to normal conditions.” 

She packs up the various medical items, slotting the items into their respective containers. She's about to get up and put them away when your hand catches her wrist, a frail grip that she can effortlessly wrench herself out. She doesn't however. 

“Do you have… anywhere else for me to rest?”

“I've tended to your wounds and you ask for more? How selfish can you be, Rover?” She frowns. 

“The blood makes it feel… sticky.” 

“You need to wash off the blood.” 

“Well… considering I can't move my arms or legs…”

You're going to make her burst a blood vessel. 

“Know that your death will be excruciating,” she sighs, and you give her a cheeky grin that she wants nothing more than to rip off your face.  

She scoops you up into her strong arms, carrying you as firmly yet tenderly as possible in order to not aggravate your wounds. She takes you upstairs to a hallway, turning to the closest door. She seats you on the edge of the bathtub and turns on the faucet, letting the tub fill with hot water. She exits the room, presumably to grab some extra clothes and towels. She returns with exactly that, setting them down on the sinker counter. 

She picks you up again, seating herself first squarely in the tub before you're placed on her lap, your back towards her. 

“I'm going to have to remove your pants.” 

“Seems unfair if I'm the only one that's going to be naked.”

“Do not make me stain my walls with your blood tonight. I prefer not having to clean up the mess.” 

“You already have to clean up the living room, what's one more?” 

She shuts you up with a loud tearing noise as she slits down the seams until finally you're left exposed to her. You gasp, squeezing your thighs. Arlecchino takes note of this, a small smile disappearing on her lips the moment it appears. Once she peels the pant sleeves off of you, she tosses them carelessly onto the bathroom floor. She retracts her claws to rub off the dried blood on your back, a long exhale escaping her as she gapes wordlessly at all the scars and faded bruises that scatter your back. 

“No bath bomb?” You whine–yes, a full grown hero whining about a bath bomb–which quickly interrupts her stare.

“I'm not wasting one on you,” she says. 

Although Arlecchino can't see it, she knows that you pout.

Thankfully for the rest of the time she cleans the blood off, you hold back on any more suggestive quips. Arlecchino shuts off the faucet and dries you off without another word, dressing you in a satin robe. She turns, quickly removing her own wet clothes and donning proper dry ones. When she returns her gaze on you, you seem oddly flustered–ah, she forgot she had an audience. If you appreciated her bare self, you had said nothing about it.

She hoists you into her arms again, marching down to the room right next to, which is a bedroom, and you’re placed onto the soft bed. You waste no time indulging in the mattress before you stop. 

“Wait, isn't this your bed?” 

“Indeed,” she says nonchalantly after she shuts the lights, sliding under the covers beside you. 

“But, wait, you, don't you, don't you… have anywhere else?” 

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Well… it's just… you're not going to kill me when I'm asleep right?” You chuckle though the unease is evident in your words. Arlecchino grasps your chin, making you face her. Your face is only a hair's breadth away from hers and she feels your hot breath against her lips. 

“Do not mistake me. When I kill you, it'd be when you're awake and beaten by me alone,” she whispers huskily. She lets go of you, and turns to the side, her back facing you. 

She can feel your eyes burrow into her. She pays no mind.