#last part is inspired by me being cold almost the entire ride | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

palioom · 1 year ago

Text

a bond formed of love

summary: ecstatic about finally being married to the love of your life, Oberyn Martell, dread consumes you at the thought of consummating your marriage. will the horrible tales of first nights told to you become reality? or will they turn out to be elaborate lies?

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 11.1k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but many, many nicknames); fluff & smut; first times; wedding night; oral (m & f receiving); unprotected p in v; multiple orgasms; body worship; oberyn being the most devoted husband ever

author's notes: this one goes out to @aurasjournal who not only inspired a huge part of this but also kept pushing me to make this as long as it is. thank you so much <3

part of "the viper and the sun"

• masterlist •

Happiness. It was all that she could feel, consuming her entirely, filling every last inch of her. Almost euphoric in nature, laughing and smiling as she moved beside him - her love, her husband.

Husband.

The sole reason why she was so happy today, unable to tear her eyes away from him, no one around her mattering in this moment. Looking even more handsome than usual, as if that was even a possibility, his dark eyes crinkling at the corner when he laughed.

Oberyn Martell, her husband.

Finally she could call him that. The love of her life had finally become her husband, making her the happiest woman, the happiest wife, in the world.

Not that she hadn’t been happy before, back when he was simply courting her, when he had asked her to marry him. She had always been happy with him at her side - he made her laugh, he entertained her, he took her out for rides into the most beautiful corners around Sunspear.

Down to the shores, into the deserts.

But she had longed to be his by title, to wear a ring which showed she was his and he was hers.

All hers.

Just dancing with him here, moving with one another, as if they were connected somehow. As if the Gods had bound a string around them so long ago, pulling it tighter and tighter as they moved towards each other on the wide floor, empty save for them. Tighter still, until they met, his hands finding her hips with a laugh, her hands resting on his broad chest, on the beautiful robe he wore for the occasion, a pale yellow, adorned with golden suns and many intricate details stitched with golden thread.

Their lips found another, pulling them even closer together, the string so tight around them that it expelled the air from her lungs, breathless from kissing and laughing and dancing all day.

The exhaustion creeped in slowly but surely, replacing the rushed emotions of excitement and euphoria she had been feeling.

“We should retire soon, my sweet dove.” Oberyn said when he parted from her lips, wishing he could just keep kissing her as they spun around. Eyes bright, sparkling with something she had seen often before but could not always place.

Mischief, perhaps. Desire.

“I wish to be with you, alone.”

She understood what he meant, a sudden nervosity replacing some of the happiness inside of her, albeit not all of it. Nothing could take this wonderful feeling from her, slowing down in their movements, slowly circling one another.

But she did feel nervous, and had felt so for a long time.

Because just as excited as she was about finally being alone with him, to be as close to him as was humanly possible, she was just as tense about it.

She knew about his past, about how often and liberally he had taken partners. The Dornish way, all while she had waited for her future husband, had waited even when she had fallen for Oberyn. When she knew she would never love anyone else but him.

Knowing deep down in her heart and deeper still, that this wasn’t just love but that he was the partner promised to her by the Gods.

Oberyn noticed the sudden change in her, saw the emotions on her face, one hand raising to cup her cheek. She could feel the cold of the ring on his thumb as it brushed over her cheekbone. His gaze intense but gentle, their movements coming to a halt.

“What has befallen you, my dove?” He asked, feeling the need to implore what seemed to cloud her mind, unable to stand the thought of her feeling bad on their wedding day. They had both waited far too long for this. “What bothers my beautiful wife?”

His wife.

Warmth spread through her at the words, smiling up at him and shaking her head. She did not want him to worry about her.

“I am just getting tired, my love.” She replied, voice as quiet as his. “Tired but thrilled. Let us go, I wish to have you to myself.”

Leaving the festivities was more difficult than she had imagined, nervousness still sitting deep inside of her as they made their rounds, saying their goodbyes to everyone who had come. Squeezing his warm hand tightly as they went, now walking along the corridors to their new chambers.

Their shared chambers.

It only filled her chest with more tension, knowing these chambers would be where she was to reside with him for the rest of their lives.

What an odd thought, to leave her childhood rooms behind to find her life with Oberyn.

They did not speak as they walked, his touch doing all the talking through squeezing her hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. His head turned to look at her with a smile so soft and loving that she could cry from joy, reciprocating it as they walked.

His smile always managed to ease her nerves, and she wished he could smile at her forever somehow. To capture it in a way that she could carry it with her, able to look at it when she was in a foul mood.

Perhaps she could ask the woman who had done their wedding portrait today if she could paint them again, and make a small copy of him for her to carry inside a locket of some sort.

So she could open it and look at his beautiful smile at all times.

She was so in thought, she didn’t notice that they had reached the huge double door, opening them while still holding her hand tightly in his, only reluctantly letting go of it once the doors had closed behind them.

Oberyn watched her take in the large room, their room.

The big, four poster bed draped in the finest dark red and orange silks and linens, curtains hanging off of it which would shroud them in a sense of privacy.

The doors leading to a spacious balcony, letting them look out into the sky from their bed. The cushions and chairs in one corner by the bookshelves and strewn throughout the room which was lit with various candles, a vanity at the other side, near the door that led to their private bath.

Walls decorated with tapestry and rugs. It all felt intimate and warm and welcoming.

She would be happy to live here with him.

“I hope everything is to your liking, my love.” Oberyn said behind her, making her jump a little as she hadn’t heard him walking up to her. Silent like a viper. “I am sure you will give it your touch in due time.”

Her eyes found the telescope standing by the door to the balcony, the books in the shelves including thick volumes about topics she loved.

All attentively picked by him.

The sweetest gift, his love apparent just by how he had asked the room to be decorated.

His fingers touched her waist when she nodded, her view suddenly blocked by his wide chest as he came to stand in front of her.

“I love it, Oberyn.” She said with a smile. Voice small, so unlike herself.

He smiled back, the gentlest, most loving smile, his hands wandering up her side, slowly and carefully, as if she could break if he was just any faster in his movements. Seeing her slight tremble, hearing it in her voice as she spoke, suddenly so quiet.

She wasn’t quiet and timid usually, not afraid to give him a piece of her mind, so this worried him, cupping her cheek with one hand, her nervous eyes finding his.

His eyes became questioning in turn, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone.

“What is ailing you, my dove?” Oberyn asked, so gently that it made her heart burst, making her feel bad suddenly. “Tell me, my sweet.”

The sigh that left her was heavy, loaded with a burden which hurt him to hear. She didn’t deserve to be burdened, no matter what it was, and he did not wish to see her upset, see her nervous and quiet.

Deserving to be carefree and loud and happy. With him to carry her burdens for her.

“I- I am scared, my Viper.” She admitted, her hands coming to rest on his chest, her gaze casting down as she couldn’t bear looking at him, afraid of what emotion his face would display. “You know I have never… I am simply nervous.”

A compassionate smile curved his lips upward, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling back.

The hand on her cheek came up to the crown in her hair, carefully untangling it before he placed it on a table next to them. It shimmered in the lights of the candles, the gold and the jewels embedded in it, all for her.

“You do not have to be scared, my sweet dove.” He said, his knuckles running over her cheek. Still gentle and careful, his new wife being the most precious thing in his life at this moment, besides the daughters he already had. “I will show you nothing but tenderness, there will not be anything done that you do not explicitly wish to happen.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried to slow her heart, thrumming away in her chest. A tempest of emotions settled within her.

How had she gotten so lucky with him?

“I know, Oberyn. I know, but-” She took a deep breath, trembling. “I am still so scared. I have been told it hurts, it is uncomfortable and… I apologize, my love.”

His brows furrowed, two of his fingers moving under her chin, tilting it upwards. Making her look at him, he saw the fear etched into her features, his heart breaking at the sight.

No one had prepared her properly. She had been told nightmares and nothing more than that. It hurt him, seeing the love of his life so scared. Scared of him, of what he could do to her.

Things which were supposed to be joyous only but had been tainted and marred by the tales told to her.

“There is a possibility of it hurting, my dove. That is, if we rush things.” He said, his voice quiet, soothing. Like a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her safe. “Yet, I do not wish to rush things. We do not have to consummate our marriage tonight, not in the traditional sense.”

Now her brows furrowed in confusion, her fingers running over the embroidery of his robe, feeling the golden thread. She wasn’t sure if his words unnerved her more or soothed her.

What other way was there? He was to take her, to validate their marriage.

Just like everyone had told her a husband would on their first night together.

“What other way? Won’t our marriage be invalid if we do not-” She paused, swallowing hard as tears welled up in her eyes. The pressure of it, their marriage and being good for him, when he has had many partners before, it was terrifying. “If you do not take me?”

He smiled, loving and encouraging as always when he looked at her. Melting under her gaze, her tears tearing at him and his heart.

It was a special sort of pain, to see one's wife with tears in her eyes. A pain unlike any physical one he had ever endured.

“There are many ways to pleasure, and I will not take you if you are scared. This is as much about you as it is about me, my love.” Oberyn said, bowing his head to kiss away the few tears which were rolling down her cheeks, the saltiness of them a displeasure for him tonight. “I will wait until you are ready, and if it takes all eternity to do so.”

She took another shuddering breath. How was he so calm about this? Talking about waiting until all eternity while the guilt of being too scared to give herself to him weighed heavily on her.

Not even his lips on her wet cheeks could help soothe her in this moment.

“But, Oberyn- Isn’t it your right? Isn’t it a husband’s right?” She asked, her voice thick with tears. “To take his new wife, to consummate their marriage, willing or not?”

The smile faded from his face, his expression turning stern suddenly. Only terrifying her more, thinking she had misstepped, had angered him somehow.

She had never wanted to anger the Viper.

“My dove.” He spoke, his voice firm but not cruel, conveying an importance to what he was saying. “Fuck whatever you assume to be my right. I did not marry you to fuck you, my sweet dove. I married you because I love you and my only command as your husband is to banish these thoughts of old customs from your mind.”

Raising his brow, he looked at her, so scared and small in front of him, her bottom lip quivering.

“I am not a brute. If you are too scared tonight, then I will not force you. Nor any night hereafter.”

Her hand reached out to touch his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard against her palm. So handsome, so sweet. Such a stark contrast to his reputation in the Seven Kingdoms, the Red Viper. Cruel, cunning.

“But- My Viper-”

Oberyn shushed her, gentle and quiet but not lacking in firmness.

“No, my dove.” His lips found her forehead again, hoping to convey his love and his understanding through the caress of his lips. Soft and tender. “If you allow me to, I wish to show you something different. To ease you into pleasure, to ease you into me.”

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip again, feeling his calming presence soothe her nerves. As he always did, so expertly taking away her worries as if they were nothing.

“What do you wish to show me?” Her voice was as quiet as his, still shaking as she spoke.

Oberyn smiled against her skin, finding the faintest sliver of amusement in her innocence. What a wonderful thing she was, his wife. So willing and devoted and in love with him, but entirely unknowing.

Any man of less honour than him would have taken advantage of her sweetness.

But not him.

His hand went from her chin to her waist, pulling her just a little bit closer to him while his lips stayed connected to her forehead.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded, the reaction so fast as if it was innate, like there was no doubt about her answer. And she did, she trusted him with everything.

“With my life, Oberyn.”

His lips curved upward against her skin, his fingers curling into her side.

What a lucky man he was, to have married a woman like her.

“Sit down on the bed for me, please.” He said, feeling her hesitation at his gentle words.

Taking a moment to steel herself, she took another deep breath before walking away from him, just a little unsure in her footing.

Still, she made it over, sitting down on the edge of the huge bed just like he requested, the silks smooth under her hands. She watched how he followed her, slow, deliberate steps, feeling a tenseness in her abdomen at the sight of him. His gorgeous smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle, coming to stop right in front of her.

Instinctively she reached for his hand, just lightly holding onto it, needing reassurance, encouragement. The motion only made him smile more, squeezing her fingers as he slowly kneeled down in front of her.

He couldn’t hold back the chuckle which left him when he looked at her surprised face, shaking her head.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t-” She stammered out, confused by his actions. What husband kneeled before his wife? On their wedding night no less. “Shouldn’t I be the one-”

Oberyn slowly shook his head, raising her hand to his lips, giving each knuckle a kiss, dark eyes fixed only on her. His unoccupied hand touched her clothed thigh, making her jump just a little, her eyes never leaving his.

Like they were bound to him in some way.

“If I wish to kneel before my wife to show my devotion to her, then I shall do so.” He said, his voice calming her nerves, just like his lips did, turning her hand in his, kissing the tip of each finger. Each kiss lingering, an extension of his love for her.

Moving to her palm, eyes staying fixed on hers as his lips pressed against it, his beard tickling her.

She enjoyed it, watching in awe how attentive he was, feeling warm at his touch.

Then, he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own and she could feel the desire sleeping within him, holding back for her sake. She allowed herself to close her eyes and simply feel him, aware of his hand on her clothed thigh, the other intertwining their fingers, an anchor for her.

Carefully his lips wandered away from her mouth, kissing the corner of it, then peppering her jaw with fleeting touches, finally reaching her neck.

The gasp that tumbled from the depths of her chest as he made contact with the sensitive flesh excited him, the sound something he wished to preserve forever.

“Oberyn.” She whimpered, shifting in her place when his tongue darted out to taste her, breathing in the scent of oranges which always lingered with her.

A smile graced his lips, enjoying that she was easing into his ministrations, perhaps even enjoying herself as he caressed her skin.

“Do I have permission to undress you?” Oberyn asked after several more moments, pulling back to look at her face, finding it flushed and her eyes still closed.

The nervousness which had faded a little under his touch came back suddenly, turning her stomach into knots.

Undress her.

Seeing her naked, completely exposed. When he had been with so many others before her, would he even like what he saw?

She wasn’t self-conscious by any means, but in comparison to his life before her, she could not help but think about the possibilities. Being inexperienced in pleasure already weighed heavily on her shoulders, she didn’t wish to disappoint him in just about everything tonight.

He could see the emotions cross her face, her eyes spoke of all the uncertainty and fear that whirled inside of her at this moment when she opened them.

And it broke his heart.

His beautiful, stunning wife, chained up by the expectations which had been placed upon her shoulders by everyone but him.

There was nothing he expected from her, already knowing she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid his dark eyes upon, the most kind and loving wife. All he would ask of her was to stay loyal to him and to love him like he loved her, with all her heart and mind and soul. Like they were bound by fate.

Bound by an invisible string which had led them to one another.

She softly squeezed his hand, taking a deep breath before nodding. Forcing the smallest smile onto her lips, small compared to the one he gifted her in return.

The hand on her thigh moved up to her shoulder, brushing back the hair which had fallen over it, then letting his fingertips wander over the material of her gown. Soft silks, embroidered and beaded with hundreds of thousands of small stones.

Making her shimmer in the candlelight, like a million stars were strewn across her body.

Never losing her eyes when he brushed one strap off of her shoulder, watching for a reaction that she didn’t want this. There was no joy in this if she wasn’t willing.

He let it glide down her arm, not yet exposing her breasts to him, simply letting the swell of one appear in the periphery of his view. Soft skin, the whisper of a sigh leaving her when he leaned forward to kiss her exposed collarbone, to press his nose against the dip above it.

Still holding onto her hand, her fingers nervously flexing against his own as he moved on to the other side, slower this time.

The beat of her heart was visible, shaking the pretty material over where it sat, hoping he would be able to make it beat as wildly for another reason soon.

And as he carefully slid the material off her other shoulder too, she took a shuddering breath looking up at the ceiling. The cool air meeting her heated flesh, nipples perked.

Oberyn repeated his earlier motion, kissing the other side but this time moving down to press his lips against the valley in between her breasts. A low hum vibrated in her chest and he could feel the noise, kissing her again and again.

“You are so beautiful, my dove.” He said, looking up at her but seeing her gaze turned away. Unable to tell if it were simply her nerves or shame. “May I touch you?”

Silence befell them for a moment as she tried to calm herself. His words were encouraging, her heart soaring and the gentleness with which he treated her made her want to cry.

She could feel his lips on her still, like she had been branded by him, hot and searing. A good feeling, a welcome one.

Longing for his touch but still too afraid to speak, her skin yearning for his lips, for his fingers. Yearning for every inch of him, still wondering just what exactly he had in mind for tonight.

“Yes.” She breathed out, shaky and barely audible even in the dead silence.

Then his hands were on her, softly cupping her breasts, feeling the velvety skin of them. Admiring them, his thumbs brushing over the peaks, making her moan quietly. She tilted her head down, taking in the way he looked at her.

With a desire she had never seen in anyone before, mesmerized and needing, but not making her feel like an object for his desires.

He made her feel like art. Like a beautiful painting.

A slight pressure built in her abdomen as his thumbs rubbed over her nipples again and again, an unfamiliar feeling she blamed on his touch. It was pleasant, watching in awe as he bowed his head to take one stiff peak into his mouth. Hot and wet on her skin, her free hand twisting into his hair, a shaky gasp leaving her.

“Oh, Oberyn.” She moaned, concentrating on his tongue repeating the motion of his thumb, a deep groan of his vibrating against her. “It feels good, fantastic. You feel fantastic.”

He looked up at her, not stopping his ministrations but a twinkle appeared in his dark eyes. She rubbed her thighs together, a motion which didn’t go unnoticed by Oberyn, finally releasing her breast with a soft pop. Surging upwards to capture her lips in another kiss, fiery this time but reigning himself in as he felt himself move too fast.

“You’re feeling it, are you not?” He asked, parting from her and staring deep into her eyes. “Pleasure, my dove?”

“I’m not sure, Oberyn.” She replied, his kiss having left her a little breathless, her head reeling. “There is a pressure…”

A soft chuckle fell from his lips, a smile stretching his mustache wide over his lips, revealing his teeth.

“Right here?” He touched her abdomen, right where the feeling appeared and she nodded. No one had ever thought to teach her a damn thing about herself. “Yes, my dove. Pleasure. Do I have permission to undress you further? I wish to give you more of this feeling.”

Her nod was eager this time, easing into his touch. It filled him with joy, pressing another kiss to her lips which made her giggle.

Oh, how he loved that sound.

“Lay down for me, my sweet.”

She did, their hands finally letting go of each other as she laid back, immediately finding his lips to be back on her sternum, kissing a path further down between her breasts, onto her stomach. Revealing more of her skin as he went.

Peeling the garment off of her like he would with a fruit, revealing the sweet flesh, tasting it, feeling it beneath his fingers.

Feeling her shaky breaths as he lingered over her stomach, her muscles twitching under the caress of his lips.

He lifted her hips, pulling the dress down the rest of the way, letting it fall to the floor. Exposing her entirely to him, his lips pressing against that spot on her lower belly where she felt the pressure building.

Her heart beat in her throat, fighting the urge to cover herself with her hands, knowing he would just move them away. His own hands smoothed along her naked thighs, watching her face as she looked at the ceiling, lips slightly parted.

“You were made in the Gods’ image, my love.” He whispered, letting his lips trail back up her body, feeling himself become drunk on her body, on her beauty. To think she had feared this, feared showing herself to him when she truly was the most beautiful being he had ever laid his eyes on. “No beauty compares to that of yours.”

She smiled, a sound the cross of a sob and a huff tumbling over her lips, overwhelmed by his love for her. Melting into his lips as they found hers yet again, like he couldn’t get enough of her, of the taste of wine and fruit on her tongue.

Suddenly she thought about him, still fully dressed. Shouldn’t she make him feel as good as this, too? Cover his body in kisses, worship him like he worshipped her?

She was curious to see him, wondered if he bore scars. How big they were, how deep. She wanted to see him, longed for it.

Her hands wandered to the hem of his robe, attempting to undress him but he stopped her. Gently taking her wrists in his large hands, he moved them away, shaking his head.

“My Viper-” She began in an attempt to explain before he shushed her again.

“Tonight is about you, my Princess.” Oberyn said, kissing the corner of her mouth. A small whimper escaped her, her lips chasing after his when he moved back again. “You and your pleasure only. I told you, I can wait until all eternity.”

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, hoping to get her to understand just through his eyes that his words weren’t empty promises. As he breathed with her, one calming breath after the next, he hoped she understood that he would wait a lifetime and beyond for her to be fully ready. Her pleasure alone would be enough to sustain him until the sun had shared its last rays with the world, until the world grew cold and dark.

“I wish to touch more of you, my love.” Oberyn whispered into the silence, his hands moving to her hips. “Will you allow me to?”

She nodded, more firm than at the beginning, feeling a throbbing between her thighs, an unfamiliar wetness.

“Yes, my Viper.” A whisper just as quiet as his, her eyes full of desire, even if he could still see remnants of fear in them.

Oberyn brushed the bridge of his nose along hers, an intimate gesture which made her heart burst with love and joy. Hands coming up to cup his cheeks just for a moment before he slipped away again, down her body.

Calloused hands rested on her knees, his eyes on her face as she sat up slightly, leaning onto her elbows to watch him. She bit her bottom lip, his hands slowly opening her legs, gentle and sweet in his movements.

He kissed the inside of one knee when she was fully spread for him, once again resisting the urge to close them. His beard scratched along the sensitive skin, moving to the other knee as well.

It felt good, the way he kissed her skin, the way his beard felt on the sensitive flesh. How his hands smoothed over her thighs as he inched higher, lifting his head again.

One of his hands moved upwards, ghosting over her mound and feeling the coarse curls covering it, feeling the shiver that went up her spine at the featherlight touch. He watched as he gently spread her lips apart for him, glistening from the wetness that had gathered.

His thumb just hovered over her clit, like he was unsure. All while she watched, holding her breath in anticipation of where he would touch her next, each touch better than the last.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” Oberyn asked, eyes moving back up to hers. Knowing fully well that she would answer with a No. She was too responsive to his ministrations to have done so before. “Right here?”

His thumb pressed down, featherlight, like a ghost, drawing a choked gasp from her, her hips involuntarily rolling in response.

It was as if lightning had shot through her, setting her nerves ablaze at his touch. Her skin hot, she felt like she was burning up from the inside, the pressure in her abdomen only becoming worse.

“N-No.” She breathed out. Already longing for more of his touch. Needing more of that buzzing feeling it provided, pulsing faintly where his thumb rested.

His thumb swiped lower, gathering a little more wetness before ghosting over that little peak of nerves again. Carefully, trying not to overwhelm her with these new emotions, coaxing a low moan from her lungs.

It might just become his favourite sound, a sweet symphony sung only for him in this shared intimacy. Sweeter than the choirs which had sung at their marriage celebration which just now seemed so long ago already. Sweeter than the birds, than the bustle of the markets, than the rolling of the sea.

He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, kissing the inside of it as he lazily rubbed his thumb over her, watching her reactions. Her eyes were dark with nothing but lust and curiosity, only fixed on his moving digit. She tried to hold back more sounds, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her heart still thrumming against it for reasons he liked now.

No longer out of fear but out of desire.

“How does it feel, my dove?” Oberyn whispered against her skin, pressing more wet kisses against it, the hand holding her leg caressing it while his thumb moved away from her clit. Instead, it traced her outer lips, which still made her hips jerk and roll but provided a more subdued sensation. “Tell me all, I wish to know what it feels like for you.”

Her eyes snapped up to his when his thumb moved away, a whiny noise of protest leaving her.

Desperation on her face.

“It feels good, Oberyn.” She whispered, the leg over his broad shoulder trying to coax him to continue. “You feel marvellous. My blood has been replaced by molten metal, I can feel it burning and throbbing.”

Oberyn smirked, lightly nipping at her skin. “Your cunt?”

Watching her discomfort at the word, he chuckled but saw her nod still.

The urge to taste her overcame him abruptly, the urge which had been his plan when she told him she was too scared to have him tonight. Knowing he could show her the heights of pleasure on the tip of his tongue, ease her into it entirely.

“My love, you said you would trust me with your life, did you not?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked onto hers. She nodded again, whispering a shaky Yes. “Please, lay back and close your eyes, I wish to surprise you.”

Her brows knitted together, having half a mind to do as he asked and not beg for more of his touch. Laying back down and closing her eyes, anticipation frightening her but trusting him in whatever he had planned.

It took a moment, a moment in which she heard him shift around, his tunic rustling, feeling him move.

And then, she felt it. Warm and wet against her, his beard scratching against her most intimate parts, her legs threatening to close at the foreign sensation but his broad hands keeping them open.

“Fu- Oh Gods, Oberyn!” She cried out, his tongue circling around her clit again and again, wet, slurping noises accompanying his motions. One of her hands threaded into his hair for purchase, not daring to open her eyes and look at him.

He hummed against her, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, eyes trained on her parted lips, face twisted in lust.

“Say it.” He commanded, finding it amusing that she did not fully give into her desires in favour of appearing proper. What was there to be proper about when he had his face buried inside her sopping cunt? “Say it, my dove.”

Her back arched, feeling him suck at the bundle of nerves which made her cry out once more.

“Fuck!” She moaned, liking how the word rolled off her tongue. “Oberyn, fuck! Oh, Gods.”

A smile crept over his lips, doubling down on his efforts, feeling her fingers tighten in his dark locks. Focusing entirely on her clit, eating her like a man starved all while he looked out for her body’s response.

She could feel something inside of her, the pressure mounting more and more as her whines and moans turned higher in pitch, his tongue driving her closer to something. And he could feel it, holding down her hips in order to lap at her, the obscene sounds in stark contrast to the gentleness with which he pressed against her.

Opening her eyes, she looked at him, the sight making her cunt clench. His head between her thighs, with a stare of lust and determination, his eyes dark and piercing.

It was a beautiful image.

Maybe she should have this painted instead.

“Let go, my dove.” He whispered, his voice slightly muffled by her, feeling himself hard against his breeches but biting back his own desires for her. Just this was better than the Seven Heavens, he was sure of it. Nothing would be sweeter than this, to bring her to the brink of pleasure and push her over for the very first time. “Let it take you, let it wash over you and just allow yourself to feel me.”

She did. Her body tensing up and expelling all air from her lungs, the cries of his name broken on her tongue as she tried to make sense of the intense feeling surging through her. The pressure releasing, her legs snapped shut around his head again but this time he did not stop her.

Oberyn wanted to see the full extent of her ecstasy, remember every sound, every little movement of her muscles beneath her skin as she shook.

Needed to memorize her expression as he brought her to completion.

He saw the tears in her eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of him, of the rush inside of her.

She felt dizzy as it faded, as he slowed down his movements until he had fully helped her through it all, pressing gentle, wet kisses against her mound and lower belly, feeling how her deep breaths let it rise and fall.

“More, please, more.” She whispered into the silence after a few moments. Quiet and breathless, his ears perking up at the sound.

Intoxicated by the way his mouth had worked her to completion, by how good it had felt. There was an understanding in her now, for why he had sought out pleasure for all these years before they had found one another.

She never wanted this to end, craving more of him, more of their unity.

“Ah, my wife is a greedy one, I see.” Oberyn chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I will give you more, my love. My wife shall have everything, I shall give you all you want for - gowns, jewellery, pleasure. I shall spoil you rotten.”

“You already do.” She moaned, his mouth back on her, hissing at the slight sting she felt. “Fuck, you do, Oberyn. You do!”

This time, his tongue wandered lower, and she threw her head back into the sheets at the feeling of his talented tongue licking around her pulsing, aching hole before he pushed inside. His nose bumped against her clit, the wet, vulgar sounds becoming louder.

Lapping at her like a thirsty man would drink from an oasis in the desert. Like she was the life to sustain him, to keep him breathing.

He groaned against her in an unabashed fashion, letting his pleasure from this be known, mingling into the perfect symphony with her cries.

That sweet pleasure coursed through her, letting tears well up in her eyes as she tried to breathe, trying to form words in between her incoherent sounds.

Delirious and intoxicated.

“Oberyn, please! I’m-” She couldn’t finish her sentence, ecstasy stealing her breath away as he expertly pushed her over again, her hands pushing and pulling at his hair. Too much, too much and yet it was just right, riding wave after wave that crashed into her, washed over her.

Her hips bucked up against him, chasing his mouth as he pulled back, giving her some reprieve, hungrily kissing along her inner thigh with a groan.

“I knew you would enjoy this, my love.” He growled, nipping at her skin with his teeth and making her squeak. There was nothing more he wanted than to be buried inside of her right now, he couldn’t deny that. But he wouldn’t, instead planning to wear her out so thoroughly with his mouth that all of her worries would simply ease away. “My sweet, wonderful wife.”

So he kissed up her thigh to her knee, letting his lips wander over every inch of her, then venturing further over her calf.

“I do, my Viper. I do.” She whispered, each kiss sending a jolt through her. Until now she couldn’t have fathomed anything to be so intense and all consuming as this. To make her feel like she was on a cloud, drifting away while her new husband worshipped her.

“I am not through with you yet. You will feel the heights of pleasure tonight, I have promised you as such.”

And before long, his mouth found her core again, coaxing another orgasm from her, her voice turning hoarse as she whispered his name over and over like he was one of the Gods.

Maybe he was.

With the way he moved about her body, his hands wandering and feeling while his tongue worked her up to another peak and another.

Holding true on his promises and leaving her spent when he finally decided that she had experienced enough bliss. The candles around them long burned down, shrouding them in darkness, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

Oberyn left her boneless on the bed, eyes closed and breathing hard, she drifted in and out of the comforts of sleep, faintly feeling his strong hands manoeuvre her under the covers.

“Oberyn…” She mumbled, hearing him shush her like he had done so often this night. The bed dipped beside her, his heavy form laying next to her body, pulling her close.

Still feeling like she was floating, embraced by his warmth, the happiness from earlier this night returning. His lips pressed against hers, so tender and gentle as if he hadn’t just taken her apart with only his tongue.

“Sleep, my dove. My sweet, wonderful and kind wife.” He whispered, kissing her forehead as she slowly drifted into slumber. Gratefulness and love sat deep inside her chest as she did. “There will be much more to discover. So much more.”

She woke before the sun had risen, her body aching in the most delicious ways as she moved. Oberyn’s arms still embraced her, turning around in his grasp to look at his peaceful form.

Her husband.

It still felt like a dream, too good to be true. Even though his strong arms around her body and his handsome face right in front of her reminded her that it was in fact real. She could still feel his hands on her body, etched into her skin like a mark. A mark she would be happy to wear until all eternity.

Her gentle fingers found the bridge of his nose, brushing over it, taking in his features. Thinking about the sight of him between her thighs, worshipping her.

How he had lapped at her, like a thirsty, starving man who had found his paradise between her legs, finally finding it after a seemingly endless journey. Drinking from her to sustain himself, taking as much as he was giving, making said paradise blossom.

She felt warm at the thought, her fingers wandering over his tanned cheek. Never had she seen him like this and she found it strange to see him without his smirk when in her presence. Always smiling, making her laugh.

Breathing in and out at a steady pace. This would be the face which would greet her until all eternity, she realized. The arms which would hold her every night, his warm, firm body pressed against hers, still clothed unlike hers. A welcome image, making her smile wider as she brushed some hair from his forehead.

“My Viper.” She whispered, leaning forward to kiss him, first on the tip of his nose, then his lips. Soft beneath hers, his beard tickling her skin.

Desire awoke in her again at the touch, the vivid feelings from last night at the forefront of her mind. His arms wrapped around her tighter, startling her as he tiredly kissed her back, awoken by her featherlight touch.

Caressing her, chuckling quietly when she drew back. His dark eyes were so beautiful, piercing even when laced with sleep. The most beautiful eyes she had ever seen, full of love and admiration for her.

“My dove, my sweet wife.” He sighed, one of his hands smoothing over her bare hip, moving to her bottom.

Squeezing it gently and making her gasp.

Fanning the flames within her, humming deeply at his ministrations. She thought about his mouth, how he had used it on her, wondering if she could do the same for him.

She wanted to, a strange eagerness to pleasure him overtaking her, her hand wandering to the opening in his robe, feeling his warm, bare chest beneath.

The thought of consummating their marriage seemed more acceptable at this moment, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to fully give into the idea just yet.

Oberyn saw the look in her eyes, recognizing it in an instant. How often he had seen this exact gaze in others, how often had it preceded the most wonderful sensations. Yet here, with her, it made him proud, made him more hungry than it ever had made him before.

Despite that, concern mixed into his excitement. She had been so scared last night, inexperienced and her head filled with terrible tales. The emotion in her eyes seemed real, but he couldn’t help but be worried.

“I wish to give back to you, Oberyn.” She whispered, her hand wandering lower, resting on his covered belly. The tips of their noses were touching, eyes locked onto another. “You made me feel the most incredible sensations, and I wish to pleasure you. Let me use my mouth like you used yours.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words, surprised by her sudden boldness. He had always known that her soul simply needed a gentle nudge to bloom and come alive. That the fierceness he saw in her every day extended into far more facettes of her being.

It was as if a new spirit had taken over her, leaving her more confident.

“Please, Oberyn. I wish to give to you what you gave to me.” She whispered intently when he hesitated, still scared of the actual act itself, but more than willing to reciprocate his love and devotion the way he had shown it to her.

“My dove, this is about you, not me.” He whispered back, cupping her cheek in his large palm. Rough and calloused from years of training, years of fighting. “I cannot allow this in any good faith.”

“Please.”

The way she looked at him, so eager and determined. How could he say no? She wanted this, even if he wanted these glorious morning hours to be devoted to her only. Devoted to the beginning of their life together, the sun only starting to show the top of its face in the far distance of the horizon.

“Promise me that this wish is not borne out of any obligation you feel towards me.” Oberyn said, needing to rule out that the loving, kind spirit of her being drove her actions instead of her own desire. “This is borne from you, your own heart.”

She nodded, whispering a small Yes back in answer to his question.

He sighed, kissing her forehead with an affirmative hum. Feeling the excitement grow within him, his cock twitching at the thought of her mouth.

What a wonderful wife he had.

But as he watched her naked body emerge from beneath the covers, his brows furrowed, seeing her move to the side of the bed, attempting to slide off of it.

Oberyn grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks and she looked up at him, confused. Looking so beautiful, with the sun slowly painting the skies behind her a beautiful purple, driving away the darkness. Her hair tousled, shallow lines on her face from sleep.

“What are you doing, my dove?” He asked, sitting up.

Her brows knit together in confusion, mirroring his gaze.

“Getting on my knees, just like you did, Oberyn.” She answered, genuine about her intentions. Watching him shake his head, pulling her towards him.

“No.” He replied, looking at her intently. “I won’t allow you to. My wife will not kneel before me.”

“But, Oberyn-” Her attempt to argue was squashed by the look he gave her.

“I am to worship you, kneel before you on the floor to show you my devotion, to show you pleasure.” Oberyn said, looking at her kneeling on the bed in front of him. She seemed more demure again suddenly, more timid. But the lust still blazed in her eyes. “Far too many wives expect it to be their place, on the floor in front of their husbands. Not you. You will not kneel on the floor today, my dove.”

Her heart warmed at his words, smiling and leaning forward to kiss him, her hands wandering to the thin robe he still wore. His words touched her, so thoughtful of meanings she hadn’t even thought about yet.

She wanted to kneel before him, just as he had done the night before, but she cared deeply for his words.

Slowly she opened his robe as she kissed him, letting her hands wander over his toned chest, down to the soft swell of his stomach. Touching and exploring like he had, her lips mirroring the paths he had painted onto her not too long ago, kissing down his jaw, to that point which had felt so good on her, below his ear.

Revelling in the way his breath hitched when she ventured down further, kissing every inch of him.

In the way his hands threaded into her hair, moving it out of her gorgeous face to watch her.

“You are a fast learner, my dove.” He chuckled and she felt the vibrations ripple through him. A smile broke on her face, feeling encouraged by him, by the way he touched her, the way he loved her.

“I am, am I not?” She giggled, sitting back up when she had reached his navel, the patch of dark hair which travelled into his breeches. Sitting back on her legs, she admired him for a moment, his tan skin glowing in the faintest orange from the rising sun, his beautiful body on display for her, almost as naked as she was.

Littered with scars like she had thought him to be, both small and large in size, some deep and some shallow. Faint and bold, her finger tracing along some of them.

Looking like one of the Gods. Made in their image.

“You look beautiful, Oberyn.” She whispered, her hands wandering to the strings on his breeches, needing to see what lay beneath them. The outline of him was prominent, leaving little to the imagination. “May I?”

He smiled, leaning forward to gently capture her lips with his own. One of his hands smoothed up her arm, feeling her nerves well up again. Attempting to calm her.

“Of course, my dove.”

She smiled, rubbing the bridge of her nose along his just as he had done, her shaky fingers untying the string. Peeling back the dark fabric, she couldn’t hold back the gasp that left her lungs at the sight of him, springing free.

She had been right to be scared, to be nervous and while she felt a strange desire at the sight of his cock, angry and leaking, she couldn’t help but feel nervous all over again.

Oberyn just watched, slowly leaning back once more, her fingers trailing through the dark, coarse hair at the base. Just letting her explore on her own, hissing softly when she touched him, featherlight as if she was unsure.

Soft like velvet, throbbing and bouncing. The dark tip glistened with something.

She ran her finger over the prominent vein at the underside, then drew back, deciding to take his trousers off entirely first. Needing him fully exposed like she was, she tugged them down his legs, revealing his toned thighs and calves, hardened from years of training.

Like the Gods.

Wrapping her hand around him, she looked up to his face, seeing the intense gaze of his as he watched her fingers before his dark eyes met her own. Upon seeing the uncertainty in her, Oberyn gave her an encouraging smile, her touch setting him on fire unlike anyone had ever done before.

“You’re doing well, love. Keep going.” He said, his heart fluttering at her smile, his legs opening a bit wider. “Just move your hand, if you wish.”

She nodded, doing as he said. Leaning down to take him in her mouth, she was stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

“You best lay down on your belly for that.” He suggested, his voice growing thinner. This woman would rob him of his last sanity and he hadn’t even felt her properly just yet. “It will be easier on your body and I will be able to see your face, my love.”

“Oh.” She replied, the simple sound making him chuckle. Shifting into position between his opened legs, feeling awkward as she did. He beckoned her closer, helping her so her arms were positioned over his hips, her elbows resting on the sheets.

So close to him, her hot breath fanning over his sensitive skin. The hunger clear in her eyes as his cock was right in front of her, still gripped by nervousness.

Ducking her head, she pressed small kisses against his belly, then over his hip bones. Peering up at him through her lashes only to find him fixated on her, his hand coming up to gather her hair in a loose grip, just to get it out of the way. Watching how she teased him, his aching cock brushing along her cheek, trying to tame his hips which were squirming in anticipation.

Excruciatingly slow she moved back a little, lifting her head and taking him into one hand again. Oberyn’s breathing became heavier, seeing her lips descend and press against the head of his cock, like she was kissing it. Her tongue darted out, licking over the slit and grimacing a little at the taste of the pre-cum.

He couldn’t help the chuckle, warm and without malice, making her smile and giggle in return.

“Salty.” She remarked curiously, then resumed kissing him. Over and over, pressing her soft lips against the head, trailing them down the length of it. Just following what she thought was right, peering up at him now and then as if to ask for encouragement.

She moved so deliberately and gently that it looked like she was worshipping him. Worshipping his aching cock while laying in between his legs. Making his blood boil hotter than the sun, mesmerized by the sight of her.

“What a sight you are, my sweet dove.” He breathed out, fingers running along her scalp as she moved back up to the head. “My sweet wife. You are doing so well, simply keep kissing it.”

She felt warmth spread through her at the praise, the pressure in her abdomen returning.

But this was about him.

“Does it feel good?” She whispered in between kisses, letting her tongue dart out again, giving the sensitive tip the tiniest lick.

“Divine.” He moaned, the sight of her too much. She looked beautiful, her contours slowly being bathed in orange hues as the sun rose higher. “You may take it into your wonderful mouth, my dove. If you wish.”

She nodded, doing as he said, opening her mouth just a little to take in the head, already feeling heavy on her tongue. Did she just move her tongue now as he had done with her?

Or should she take more of him?

She decided on moving her tongue, licking at the head and experimentally sucking on it like he had on her clit, the deep groan that left him making her feel proud. Proud to be able to give back what he had shown her last night.

“By the old Gods and the new, nothing will feel more divine than this, my dove.” Oberyn moaned, his fingers twitching in her hair, clearly trying to hold back. Unwilling to scare her away, just letting her explore as she saw fit. “You feel wonderful, so wonderful. My cock on your tongue, what a sight.”

She took more of him, gently bobbing her head, knowing she was doing right when he kept making those wonderful sounds above her. Groaning and moaning with every movement, ecstasy overtaking his body.

Her own, private melody, her own song.

She wanted to hear more of it, becoming more eager, more assured with her movements, lifting her head to kiss it again, her hand spreading the saliva over what she couldn’t fit into her mouth, stroking him. Liking what she was doing, the heavy feeling of when he was in her mouth, her desire growing by the second but wanting to see what pleasure looked like for him. What his face would look like when he reached the heights that she had at the mercy of his mouth.

And as she continued, alternating between kissing him and bobbing her head on him, she didn’t feel scared or nervous anymore. She wanted him, needed him. Needed to know what his cock would feel like inside of her.

Needed to be one with him, beyond what they were doing right now. She was growing impatient, feeling so safe and so loved in his presence, here between his legs, that she did not want to wait much longer.

“My viper, I want you.” She breathed out when she lifted her head, her hand stilling for a moment. Pupils blown wide, a nearly ravenous expression on her face. “Please, Oberyn, my love.”

It took a moment for him to realize what she meant, finding it difficult to form a coherent thought with how close he was to his own peak, lost in the feeling of her lips around him.

“Are you sure, my sweet?” He asked, cupping her cheeks with both hands as she rose onto her hands and knees, her face close to his. “Do not feel pressured on my behalf-”

Slotting her lips against his, she cut him off, kissing him with such vigour he knew she was firm in her words. She moaned when he kissed her back, his hands on her body as he rose, moving her to lay down onto the silk bedding, never leaving her lips, staying connected to her.

Moving to her neck again as she laid below him, kissing and sucking at that sensitive spot below her ear.

“Oberyn, please.” She moaned, eyes half-lidded, squirming beneath his broad body. Hair splayed out like a halo around her head, tinged in orange sunlight. “Do not tease me, please.”

As he hovered above her, he took a moment to take her in. All of her, all his but not owned by him. Still as free as a bird for he would never cage her, make her submit, but this sight of her only for him to enjoy. The curves of her body, the way she breathed heavily, squirmed in anticipation and desperation.

All his. His wife.

Still unbelieving that this was reality, settling himself between her spread thighs. He was able to see her heart beat against her ribcage once more, just as he had wished to see it, pumping hard because of lust and not of anxiety.

His cock rested against her thigh, heavy and leaking and aching for her, aching to fully become one with her.

“Tell me you want this, my sweet.” He breathed, positioning himself so the head of him pushed against her aching hole. Ready to have him, inviting him in. “Tell me, my love. You want this, you want to become mine in body and heart and soul the way I want to become yours.”

She cupped his cheeks, eyes only on his as she nodded. Her heart swelling with every word that tumbled from his lips in the dawn, his handsome features lined by orange hues.

“Yes, Oberyn. I want this.” Her answer was a whisper but it did not lack in fervour. Smiling up at him, tears in her eyes, knowing what she was doing was right and that she was happy for this to be her life, with him by her side. “I wish to be yours, in body and heart and soul, connected to you until all eternity, until our hair turns grey and our bodies wither with the run of time.”

It was as if they held their very own, private wedding ceremony. Just the two of them to witness their words, to witness their love and passion and pleasure.

“Until all that remains of us are two stars in the night sky, our names a whispered memory.” He said, kissing her, his hips slowly pressing forward.

It took her by surprise, her gasp swallowed by his mouth as he carefully pushed inside of her, a groan rumbling in his chest.

A feeling like no other, feeling full as he stilled inside of her, his forehead resting against hers and breathing hard. The smallest laughter shared between them before their lips met again and again, his hands wandering all over her body, grabbing and pulling at every inch.

He could remain here forever, buried inside her, their lips meeting in a fiery passion, fuelled by their love for one another, the desire to feel, to be one.

Her embrace warm and welcoming, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. She wished she could crawl inside of his skin, mentally cursing herself for having been so scared of this.

Mentally cursing everyone who had told her tales of pain and misery, of simply enduring the first night and every night thereafter. Not one had mentioned the intense love and desire, the feeling of needing another human more than she needed water to drink or air to breathe.

The feeling of completion, like she had found a piece of herself in him which made her feel whole.

No. Like an addition to herself, an extension.

“Please.” She mumbled against his lips, her hands roaming over his back, feeling the muscles dance beneath his skin. “Oberyn.”

He understood, kissing her cheek when he moved his hips, pulling out of her almost entirely before sinking back in, and the sweet moan that left her was music to his ears.

Sweeter than any of the sounds he had pulled from her before, breathy and high-pitched.

Looking magnificent in her ecstasy.

“My sweet dove.” He groaned, setting a slow rhythm, trying to hold himself back. Her mouth and hands had brought him close before and her sweet cunt made him feel dizzy, too close to the edge for his own liking. He needed to savour this, drag this out, for her and for himself. Wishing to remember this forever. “Tell me what you are feeling, tell me all.”

A sloppy kiss met the corner of his mouth, trailing to his jaw.

“Complete, full and complete and ecstatic.” She moaned against his skin, her nails digging into his back. Driving in and out of her repeatedly, brushing against spots inside of her that made her feel lightheaded, her toes curling. “I never want this to end.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“This is what the Seven Heavens must feel like.” Oberyn groaned, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, overwhelmed by her. Her tightness, her embrace, her warmth. “Here, buried in your sweet cunt lies paradise, just for us.”

Nodding, her lips found his again, so close once again.

Tears running down her temples, settling in her hair. Feeling nothing but him, the world ceasing to exist while entangled with him, becoming drunk off the pleasure.

Her peak reached her so suddenly, she couldn’t do much more than whimper against his mouth, her arms pulling him into her. Breathless, her body set ablaze.

The feelings so much more intense than before, feeling him shudder and then still against her through the haze in her mind. Their lips never stopping, her name tumbling from his and right into her mouth, as if he was praying to the Gods above.

Basking in the afterglow, he kissed her cheeks, her temples wet with tears, shushing her gently as she cried. Tears of joy, of happiness unlike no other.

He could not imagine himself with anyone else, everyone that had come before her paling in contrast.

The sun warmed their skin, the sky a bright orange, fading into pinks and purples at the very edges. Dipping everything it touched into its mesmerizing hues.

“I love you, Oberyn.” She whispered, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear. Stroking his cheek, tears still in her eyes, barely open from exhaustion, from bliss. “My sweet Viper, my husband.”

Oberyn smiled, slowly pulling out of her, already missing her warmth and tightness. He rolled them over to the side, carefully guiding her spent body. Admiring the beauty of her in the rays of the sun, casting beautiful shadows across her face, making her look like a fabled creature.

Glowing like the sun itself.

His Sun.

“And I love you, my Sun.” He whispered back, brushing some hair from her forehead. Seeing her brows knit together at the new name. “My wonderful wife.”

“My Sun?” She echoed his words, finding a warmth and safety in the name.

“You are my Sun, my sweet. The centre of my being, my warmth and my light.” He said, smiling gently, cupping her cheek. “Us Dornish worship our sun. She gives us food, she gives us life. A new day in her safety and guidance. She is sacred to us, without her, there would only be darkness and coldness.”

Her heart soared at his words, a sob leaving her, overwhelmed by his gentleness and his affection.

“You are my Sun now. Without you, my life would be dark.” He continued, brushing away her tears, filled with nothing but unbridled love for her in this moment. “And I am your Moon. Shining brightly only in your light, in your presence. Cold without your warmth, without your bright smile.”

She couldn’t find words to match his, everything she thought of seeming inconsequential.

But he was not done. His heart so full for her, as she laid in the light of the rising sun, embracing each other's spent bodies.

“Before you, my life was nothing but the chase for pleasure, to forget what I have lost.” Tears welling up in his eyes as well, a sight she had never seen before, raising a hand to wipe them away as they fell. Knowing somehow he was talking about Elia. “But now, with you by my side, there is no more need for such chases. All the pleasure of the world lies within you. In the warm heart beneath your ribs, your gentle kiss and sweet embrace. In this sweet cunt between your legs.”

She giggled between her sobs. Of course he couldn’t just not mention it.

But she felt sadness, her heart breaking at the thought of his dead sister. Of this sweet, loving man drowned in darkness and sorrow, trying to find something to take away the pain her death had caused.

He hadn’t talked of her much just yet, the memory too painful.

Hoping that he would now, after he had found a light to guide him out of the darkness.

“I wish to show you the world, to experience all the world has to offer us with you by my side. To give you all the children you wish for, tiny viperlings in the image of us.” More words which brought forth more tears. Ever the poet, ever spilling his aching heart. “All that will heal my broken heart. Healing it further as you have already begun to heal it, my Sun, unbeknownst to you. Every moment spent with my daughters, treating them like your own, giving them your love, all of that put another broken piece back into place.”

“Oh, Oberyn. My Viper, my Moon.” She whispered, wiping away more tears as her own continued to spill. Leaning up to kiss them from his cheeks, brushing her nose against his. “I do not have the words to explain what I feel for you. They feel inadequate to everything you have just said.”

Oberyn chuckled, moving to kiss her lips, those sweet, soft lips.

“There is no need, my Sun. Your touch and your smile are enough to let me know just what you’re thinking, what you are feeling. Let me worship you as you ought to be worshipped in this moment.”

Pressing their foreheads together as they lay in the glowing sun, tangled limbs and tangled souls warmed by it.

Just breathing, just feeling.

Connected in their very beings, basking in each other’s presence.

The love they felt was enough to sustain them for a hundred lifetimes.

The Viper and his Sun.

In a bond formed of love.

#oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell smut #game of thrones #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fic #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing #tvats

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hansensgirl · 4 years ago

Text

i’m in the water.

summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.

warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.5k

pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.

a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!

From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.

So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.

Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.

“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?

“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.

A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.

“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.

“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.

“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.

He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.

You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.

“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.

“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.

You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.

“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.

“Я могу составить ей хорошую ко��панию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.

He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.

He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.

Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.

But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.

The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.

Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.

“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.

“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.

“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.

Bring the Soldat.

He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.

“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.

“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.

They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.

Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.

“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.

You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.

You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.

No, no, no, no, no. Not now.

He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.

“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.

You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.

Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.

And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.

Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.

“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.

“Прощай, кролик.”

You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.

You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.

Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.

You’re free to go, Soldat.

His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.

The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.

“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.

“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.

“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.

You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.

Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.

You miss those times.

You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.

He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.

You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.

The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.

“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.

His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.

“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.

One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.

Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.

He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.

“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.

Your heart quite literally breaks in two.

“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.

It makes you want to cry even harder.

Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.

Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.

The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.

Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.

The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.

“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.

“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.

“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.

The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.

Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.

But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.

You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.

Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.

Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.

His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.

You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.

His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.

He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.

“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.

You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.

“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.

You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.

“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.

But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.

“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.

He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.

Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.

“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.

Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.

You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.

You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.

You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.

If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.

The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.

You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.

You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.

His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.

He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.

“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.

The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.

The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.

Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.

Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.

“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.

“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.

“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.

Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.

You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.

“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.

Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.

You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.

“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.

Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.

Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.

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shingia · 4 years ago

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hopefullyy this inspires u to write,,, can i request hc's of the boys getting jealous seeing their s/o work well with another person on a team/club? like good chemistry with a dance partner for example! (u can choose who u write but can it include iwa!!) <33

✗ HQ BOYS GETTING JEALOUS SEEING YOU WORK WELL WITH ANOTHER PERSON ✗

a/n : kdjfkdjdkdj i love this request omg ty ! i did half hc/half scenarios bc i thought the request fitted this format <3

-> iwaizumi, osamu, kuroo, suna, tsukishima

-> warnings : kuroo’s a bit suggestive (tbh i don’t know about the rest. it’s just... kinda hot? (tsukki’s only fluff tho<3))

-> reblogs are >>>>

— IWAIZUMI

• iwa’s jealousy was practically non existent until he actually saw you interact with your partner

• don’t get me wrong, he absolutely loves your smile - but he especially loves to be the one who caused it

• he tends to get physically very protective of you, so expect his arm to stay wrapped around your shoulders most of the time. because to him it’s the easiest way to show the world (but especially your partner) that you’re his

• he also not-so-subtly offers you to wear his clothes on days when you have practice. and he secretly hopes that someone will ask you who they belong to...

« it’s cold outside. you should wear this ». iwa’s low and unannounced voice makes you turn around in surprise. leaned against the bathroom’s doorframe, he’s holding your favorite jacket in his hand - the one with his name written on the back, and you suspect that this might not be a coincidence... with a chuckle, you agree to put it on, noticing the proud spark in his eyes. « you know, i’m pretty sure everyone already knows i’m dating you » you tease him with a wink, all while also admiring the way his name takes up the whole width of your back. « oh yeah ? » he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans forward to rest his hands on the sink behind you. trapped between his outstretched arms, you watch his smirk grow just a little bit bigger as he lets out, very quietly, « well this is just a reminder... it better be the last ». his green eyes locked with yours could almost make you forget about his arm snaking around your waist at a painfully slow pace. almost.

— OSAMU

• look, he’s very happy for you. no doubt about it. but he’s so used to see people fawn over his brother that he can’t help but get a little protective from time to time

• since gifts are his #1 love language, he might buy you a workout-friendly piece of jewelry that you can wear during your practice

• he also insists on dropping you off and picking you up as often as his busy schedule allows it. especially since he learned that your partner was willing to give you a ride home...

• it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, obviously. he just doesn’t trust them yet

• and that’s why his kisses - and pda in general - are a bit more « intense » than usual

leg bouncing up and down, osamu is (very) anxiously for your conversation with your teammate to end. because after watching the entirety of your practice, he needs a little reminder that you two also have incredible chemistry together... a better one, even. so as soon as he sees you wave your teammate goodbye, he stands up straight, arms open just wide enough to welcome you against his chest. but instead of the chaste kiss you expected to get, you’re actually greeted by his left hand grabbing your sides while his right meets your lower back. disconcerted, you don’t even have time to say a word that his mouth crashes onto yours so eagerly that you have to lean back a few inches. « wh-what was that for ? » you pant as soon as his warm lips have left yours. « nothing. i love ya, that’s all » he smiles innocently, glad that you didn’t notice the cocky look he just gave your teammate who witnessed everything from afar... exactly as planned.

— KUROO

• passive agressive™️

• he would insist on properly meeting your partner but oh god they better brace themselves,,,

• because kuroo’s the kind of boyfriend that will shake their hand hard enough to make them yelp, all while having an angelic smile plastered on his face

• oh and you can forget being called by your name : he’s going to demonstrate the entire variety of nicknames he has for you. he might even come up with new ones just because he’s feeling « inspired »

• every single thing he says to your partner has to be a reminder that you two are dating. like « oh yeah they told me about this yesterday.. during our date ». just to make sure that there’s no misunderstanding.

« well... speak of the devil », kuroo hears you chuckle, your voice almost drowned out by his heavy breathing. he’s obviously planing on apologizing for being late... but not now. there’s something he wants to do first. still very aware of your partner’s presence right in front of you, he decides to securely yet eagerly wrap his arms around your waist before spinning you around proudly. « so... you guys were talking about me ? » he asks, glad to know that he’s the reason behind your giggles. « we were, actually » you answer a bit more seriously as he finally puts you down, still keeping both his hands on your waist. « well, i am your boyfriend after all... » he starts, interrupting himself to place a loud peck on your jawline. the only thing you can think is about is how awful this situation must be for your partner... kuroo, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered at all, as shown by the way one of his hands discreetly makes its way under the fabric of your t-shirt to rest directly on your skin. « hands off, kuroo » you order him with a slap on the back of his hand. an offended gasp leaves his lips, yet he complies reluctantly, thinking that your partner probably already knows everything that needs to be known about him.

— SUNA

• he doesn’t really mind it... as long as you’re willing to cuddle once you get back from practice. if you’re not, then he’s gonna start to worry

• because cuddling is probably his favorite ‘boyfriend privilege’ and he doesn’t want it to be taken away from him

• his schedule is pretty tight so he might not be able to attend any of your practices, but he asks you to record it as much as you possibly can so that he can watch the videos with you afterwards

• and seeing how smoothly you and your partner move together definitely doesn’t help with his worrying

it’s been thirty minutes now, and suna’s still not done watching the videos you took today. he loves to share these moments with you, snuggled up against each other the bed ; but most importantly, he has someone to keep his eye on... « babe- are you 100% sure that this was part of the choreography? » he suddenly speaks up, his eyes leaving the screen for the first time. you quirk a curious eyebrow, more surprised by his unusually suspicious tone rather than by the question itself. « oh, the hand on my waist ? yes, rin. it was ». at your words, his lips press into a thin line, he’s obviously far from being convinced. but you know your boyfriend well and you’re quick to reassure him : « you know, his hand might have been on my waist but you’re the one laying in my bed right now ». the frown on his face disappears almost immediately - much faster than you would’ve thought, replaced by a much more confident expression as his hands start to gently stroke your sides up and down. « mmh, i guess you’re right.... i mean, at the end of the day, only i get to have ‘all of this’ for myself » he smirks, playfully eyeing you up and down until he can’t resist the temptation of your slightly parted lips anymore.

— TSUKISHIMA

• tsukki’s not jealous, he’s just... well.. cautious. or at least that’s what he tells you

• but, deep down, he knows that simple cautiousness wouldn’t make spend his days and nights stressing about this new partner of yours...

• so, after a few weeks, his impassible facade starts to crumble a little bit. nothing too extreme, but just enough to let your partner know that you’re taken.

• and he knows he doesn’t need to do much : one of his signature scornful looks is more than enough. especially when he’s staring at your partner dead in the eyes while you’re greeting him with a hug and a kiss after your practice

« tsukishima kei, i’m waiting for an explanation ». with a sigh, your boyfriend drops his book on the table, turning his chair around to face you. « i don’t have one, i already told you. you told me to introduce myself, and i did. end of story ». you both know that tsukki did not just ‘introduce himself’ like any other human being would have done. and that’s precisely what you’re trying to make him admit - because your partner looked genuinely scared during practice today. « wha- no, i didn’t look down on him. it’s not my fault he’s so short... » he mumbles under his breath, trying his best to avoid any eye contact with you. but you know that only a slight tilt of his chin upwards is enough to make his eyes lock with yours - and that this is enough to have him admit anything. « you’re jealous, kei. and it’s painfully obvious by the way... » you smirk - but this smirk disappears in a split second as he slowly gets up from his chair, towering over you like he usually does. « ok, maybe i am. but i just wanted to make sure that he knew his place. and especially mine » he finally admits, his lips spreading in a scornful smirk that would be terrifying if his eyes weren’t filled with the infinite tenderness he has always felt for you.

✔️taglist : @toworuu @catwithangerissues @miyumiya @livy384 @k0u-minamo2 @fullsundear @hsjvwq @mochi-marie @hiraeth-z @velvetvirgos @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner @47meow @japanesevenom @geektastic84 @noir-blanches-blog @idontlikeyourjob @seiri-ami @atiny-grl-with-luv @admiringlove @nachotrash @kellesvt @aintyourholy @Moonlaeli @catchmewiddershins @duhsies @devilgirlcrybabiey @crystal-lilac

#i only have 2 requests left besties :o #so uh- ask away ig <3 #(reading the rules before would be : 😻😻 ngl)#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #miya osamu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #suna rintarou x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff

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eponymous-rose · 4 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E131 (March 30, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Liam O’Brien and Sam Riegel!

Brian points out that a lot of Caleb’s greatest fears have come to pass. Liam: “It’s funny, because he’d kind of believed for a while that those things weren’t going to happen. After a while, he got complacent.” He notes that it was extra wild because everything with Trent popped up again in the midst of that complacency. And how did it feel to be defiant toward Trent? “I think Trent successfully made Caleb question if Caleb really was in control“ at the dinner party. “I feel like anything that I do is part of his plans for me, or is that just gaslighting? I’m legitimately scared of that dude.” Sam: “Of Matt?” Liam: “Sure.” He highlights the disconnect between knowing that the M9 is mechanically powerful and could possibly defeat Trent in a dice-and-stats battle, versus fearing him in a story sense and being convinced he can do almost anything.

Sam, on Luc’s death: “That was brutal, man. Matt Mercer is a-- he hates children! Clearly. He actively sought to kill a child in the campaign in as brutal a way as possible. He hates children and wants them dead. Canon. No, but to RP, that was horrible.” He highlights that so much of Veth’s arc has been about trying to get back to her family. “We had to choose something and we thought we were making the right choice. It was all Veth’s fault, and it was pretty rotten. My heart was beating pretty fast, and I certainly didn’t want to have my son die live on the stream. I don’t know what Veth would have done. That’s the end, that’s over. It’s almost worse than when your own character would die. This is something that would also kill Veth.” After the episode was over: “just shaken. I also didn’t know what to do next! That felt like a turning-point moment for my character, weirdly so close to what we assume to be the end arc of this campaign. I texted Matt later that night and was like, that’s it, Veth’s out, I’m tapping out.”

There’s an interlude in which Sam discovers a new dream to record an episode of this show from his Peloton. Dani informs him that she will not be inviting him back.

On Astrid, Liam: “I literally don’t know what she’s doing. I know that she’s dangerous, she always was ambitious, and there’s not been a moment where Caleb let his guard down with her. He’s not trying to reestablish what they had. He cares for the both of them, for Astrid and Eodwulf. He thinks about it a lot, still. He can’t tell how much she buys into everything that she experienced and is now living as a full-grown adult. He suspects that she’s bought in and is not going to change things, because she believes in the system, as much as he’d like to peel her away. He does believe that they want what’s best for the Empire, and stopping whatever wants to come vomiting out of a hole in the frozen north is good for everyone. And they’re powerful. They’re not trustworthy, obviously. But there’s enough at stake to make it worth it. He could imagine a situation where they fight each other to the death.” He was convinced Astrid was going to stop them when they left the tower and was really shocked when she held back. Sam: “Not me! I’ve trusted Astrid since day one. She’s the greatest! I sent a letter to her, she’s very nice, I think you guys would be a nice couple. I believe every word she says.”

On having to decide on Veth deciding to go off and save the world after Luc’s death. “Like I said, I was ready to be done. And then I decided somewhere in there that that’s not very D&D. So I thought I’d leave it up to somebody else, so I asked Caduceus to decide for me, essentially. She knows she’s putting her other family in danger if she doesn’t go. It’s an impossible choice, you know?” Liam: “I love watching you grapple with it, because you’re a lovely father and love your kids.”

On the Sanatorium, Sam: “That was brutal, man. Matt lulls you into a sense of complacency. We’d forgotten that Caleb was a stone-cold killer! It had been a while since he went on a murder spree. Still got it!” Liam: “I never meant for this character to be perfect sunshine.” Brian: “You don’t say.” Liam: “He’s very not-perfect, and I think in his brain, he was going in with the impression that they needed to get in and get out as soon as possible. The place is crawling with people with magic ability, and I didn’t have faith that we wouldn’t be sussed out or something wasn’t going to blow an illusion.” Everything was about getting out of there as fast as possible.

Did the conversation with Yeza help with Veth’s decision? “First of all, every conversation with Yeza is a beautiful one. Every time she talks to Yeza, it makes her feel good. In some ways, she’s gotten to the point now where she knows Yeza’s going to be supportive, she knows he’s going to allow her to do what she wants, but maybe that’s too much. Maybe she needs to not listen to him, basically, and be like, no, you need to be selfish now, dude, you need to say ‘come home, I’m sick of you leaving’. At a certain point, being supportive can turn into being enabling.”

Cosplay of the Week: Jester in the snow! (liljerbear47, photography by kairiceleste on Instagram)

On Trent’s motivations for chasing Caleb: “I really don’t know. The simplest explanation is to just hammer down the nail that’s sticking up. It has crossed his mind that all high-level wizards are in danger of their own ambition and egos, so it’s occurred to him that Trent might have the same kind of ideas that Halas had in the past, and maybe Caleb was always meant to be another body to jump into. Maybe in some sick, disgusting, twisted way, he wants him to be his successor. I am thinking of the next campaign, without getting too deep in, trying to do something that is much more ride-along. Caleb is very, very specific, and I thought long and hard about all the different pieces on the chessboard for him. For campaign three, I’m looking forward to seeing what happens.”

Dani: “Do I need to be keeping lore on your fucking ads?”

On the cursed dagger: “It was a tricky one, because in campaign one, one of the characters was under the influence of a cursed weapon, but it interacted with him and he knew what it was and what it did. And it affected his gameplay as a character. For me, Veth didn’t know what it was, ever. I as a player knew what it was doing, but Veth didn’t know at all. So it was kind of like my dirty, dark secret for many months. I knew this thing was coming perilously close to killing me, but my character didn’t know enough to bring it up to her friends. Nobody ever asked! So I was like, well, I guess this thing’s just going to kill me one day, and it’s kind of going to be a surprise.” Liam: “Sam, you love danger and self-destruction so much, you might as well be Mollymauk.”

On the fight in Yasha’s sequence, Sam: “You gotta put a character in your storm giant creature. It was so fun! It was so great of Matt to involve us in this encounter. It would’ve been fun just to watch, because Matt would have made it amazing and Ashley was sweating bullets, which is always fun to watch.” Sam notes he felt guilty, but Liam was going for the kill. Liam: “Matt’s gotta be careful about giving me that kind of story beat. I do not fucking care, I just fucking flip, I’m like, well, I’m going to destroy you, and I have no qualms about it. It’s too much fun!”

The Beau/Yasha tower date was in part inspired by not being able to give gifts as easily this last year. “This thing that we do together is a gift, but I love finding these moments, like the book for Jester and the tower for Yasha and for Beau. I really just wanted to give both of them a little magic for a night. I wanted them to leave this-- we’re trying to be as entertaining as possible, but shit is having an effect on all of us too, and I wanted them to have an escape, a great place to escape to.”

Fan Art of the Week: an amazing group shot, plus Marion, Yeza, and Luc! (vocaz on Twitter)

On choosing Essek over Trent, Liam: “It would have been so interesting and awful and great! Essek and Astrid and Eodwulf are everything that Bren used to be attracted to that are terrible for him. Essek, hopefully he can with time find a way out of the hole that he dug himself into, but it was only two months ago where he was found out and his ambitions came crashing down around him. Long-term, I have high hopes for him, but I think it’s going to be hard.” In contrast, Astrid and Eodwulf are still “deep in the shit. It would have been really hard to navigate, but fun to play at the table. We made the right choice with what we went with. Essek’s just getting started, and Caleb doesn’t trust him entirely, because he was burned so hard not too long ago. He’s still more trustworthy than the other three. So it’s the better choice. While Caleb has all these ties on the other side, they’re really fucking dangerous. So if you have to choose, you choose Essek. But fuck that die.” Sam: “Veth, much like Sam Riegel, makes instant decisions about whether to trust someone or not and sticks to it forever. Astrid, 100% trust. Eodwulf, 100% distrust. Essek, completely distrust. I still don’t think he’s a good guy. Ikithon? Trust. 100%. Because you know where he’s coming forward, you know what he wants. I still want him dead, but I trust him.”

On Veth’s post-adventuring plans: “Veth is probably still too in it right now to think about what comes next. I, Sam Riegel, have a good idea of what I want Veth to do post-campaign.” Brian: “Maybe you shouldn’t tell us. Save it for the show!” Sam: “All she knows is she can’t do this anymore. It’s very unhealthy to be battle-wounded every other day. It’s fun for a while, but college has to end at some point, and she’s gotta go home.”

On Frumpkin changing appearance and returning to the Feywild: “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but the way it feels now for Caleb is that he feels too enmeshed in everything that has happened, and too much good has happened, and too much needs to happened, that that really narcissistic, selfish goal has the risk of harming everything else, which is more important. And that’s how he looks at it now. So he’s gearing towards letting everything from the beginning of the campaign, and where he started, go, and trying to figure out what use he’s going to be now and what he’s going to do if they’re not all dead. If Matt throws that shit down, I don’t know what I will do, I think about it a lot. But turning Frumpkin white and saying you’re free either way is him preparing to let go of everything he’s been holding on to for a really long time. He’s addicted to that idea that he can fix himself, and we’ll see if that hard choice gets presented, what he might do. But where he stands now, he doesn’t think that’s going to be reality, and he sees a way that he can be of use that he never really anticipated before, so he’s slowly shifting gears towards living with the pain he was trying to remove.”

On the last request scene and confidence heading into Aeor, Sam: “I feel like that’s a good request. I think all of us realized that if we die, that probably bodes badly for the world. I feel like all of us are at a point now as characters and as friends, that the first order of business would be to take care of everybody else’s shit, although we probably have different ideas of how to do that.” Liam: “I want the Empire to be healed, Caleb has all these memories of his parents and what they wanted for the world, and he wants that too. It’s clearly not in place now, the system needs to be broken and replaced. That could be a part of Caleb’s sunset. I don’t want Caleb to die, so maybe he can work on that after. As everything starts to shake out and we start heading towards our destiny, Caleb’s just free-floating. He’s not even going after the same thing he started for. So he’s looking at Veth’s family, and Luc specifically, and seeing that’s me, that’s a little boy in the Empire.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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writer-panda · 4 years ago

Text

Ruin and Rebirth - Chapter 1

Ruin and Rebirth

Chapter 2

Inspired by @jumpingjoy82 on Tumblr. Thank you for the amazing prologue.

I don’t own the characters, only the plot. Miraculous and Justice League belong to their respective creators

--------

"It's okay Marinette. Everything is going to be fine. You’re too young to understand, but it was for the greater good."

To young.

TO YOUNG!

It was all the Justice League's fault. If they kept their incompetent asses out of Paris, none of this would have happened.

Apparently, they just spontaneously decided to go through the Watchtower’s recycling bin, and what they found astonished them. Years upon years worth of pleas for help from Paris.

They decide to finally investigate, and it just so happens that it was during an Akuma Attack, and they threw everything the Parisian heroes were telling them out of the window, wanting to do things their own way.

Superman was one of the ones there.

And they learned just how far the Miracle Cure could go.

He decided to use his super strength and threw a car at the akumatized victim, who moved out of the way at the last minute, so the car sailed right through the Tom & Sabine Bakery, promptly, catching on fire, giving no time for the people inside to get out. No one got out alive.

Ladybug froze for a moment, before fighting with more determination than before, knowing that the Miracle Cure would bring them back.

She was wrong, which brings us back to this point.

"I don't give a damn about you so-called 'greater good' and now you’re telling me, that I'm too young to understand, but am I too young to experience it? Too young to actually see everything and everyone I love torn from me because of these heroes?! Why the hell are they here now? Where were they when this first started? What changed? And now, because of them, my entire family is dead!"

After that everything was hazy, but she knew, she hated superheroes.

They never knew when to stop, and just like Chat Noir, they expected to be praised for whatever happens, no matter if there were casualties or not.

The world would be better off without them.

----------------

The sun has long since set over Paris. The fires were still burning in some parts of town. For the first time since Ladybug first appeared, the citizens of Paris felt true fear. It was ironic. They didn’t fear the akuma. They feared the heroes that came to their rescue. For the first time in four years, the casualties were piling up. And the akuma was responsible for none.

True, many of them initially asked for it. With each fight, Ladybug and Chat Noir were taking longer. It’s been obvious for some time that they were slowly being worn out. Some media started to criticize the duo, question their skills, age, their right to act in Paris. They weren’t part of the UN Justice League Charter. Their only real authority came from the trust of the citizens themselves. And that trust was lost. The civilian pleas to the Justice League increased in number and frequency. Under public pressure, the mayor had no choice but to issue an official plea for help.

But then, then… the heroes came.

In retrospection, almost everyone would agree that it was a mistake. Justice League was not used to fighting magical threats. They weren’t practiced in dealing with possessed villains. They didn’t understand. And they treated Ladybug and Chat Noir worse than sidekicks.

That flying chicken even dared to wrap Chat Noir in a metal bar so he wouldn’t get in the way.

Ladybug… tried her best. She allowed herself to trust the new heroes. She stopped saving every civilian from the rubble. She focused on the akuma. If heroes didn’t bother with the lives, it must’ve meant they trusted her cure, right?

WRONG

They were like a tank, riding through the city with a singular goal in mind.

It didn’t help that they deemed the akuma a “world-level threat”. Yeah, right. Stormy Weather was powerful, but the damage could’ve been repaired.

Or so she thought.

The volcanos, the tsunami, the tornadoes, the earthquakes? Those were fixed. The rubble caused by them was put back in place and those who suffered under them were better than new.

But not the damage caused by the heroes.

Not the bakery.

There was no magic in what happened. There was nothing to reverse. Those were human actions. For the first time perhaps, the people could see how much of the damage caused by the fight was the fault of heroes. How many deaths they caused. That is if they admitted, before themselves at least, that it was their fault.

And yet, the so-called ‘heroes’ dared to lecture her about responsibility. About the sacrifice of few for the lives of many. About the innocence of young.

She ran away. She managed to dodge them and vanish. Meld with the crowd when there were no cameras in sight and she was sure they couldn’t track her.

Now, Ladybug stood alone on the top of the Eiffel tower, with her yo-yo communicator in her hand. She sent the message fifteen minutes ago. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but at this point, she no longer cared. There was nothing more for her.

“He thought this was a trap.” A voice spoke from behind her. Ladybug twisted immediately, taking a guarded stance. She was still avoiding the Justice League after all. Before her stood… someone. She suspected it was an Akuma. The woman had pale skin and wore a black dress, black gloves, and a black veil over her face.

“It isn’t. I’m alone. The city suffered enough as it is today. I suffered enough.” Ladybug’s voice cracked slightly.

“I see…” The akuma pursed her lips. For a moment, a purple butterfly appeared over her face before the woman nodded. “Fine. Give me your miraculous and I will take you to him.”

“That isn’t going to work and you know it. You would just leave me stuck here. I’m willing to offer a token of goodwill though.” With that, Ladybug pulled a necklace and dangled it before the akuma.

“Is that…?”

“The miraculous of the fox? Yes. No tricks. I want to negotiate. In-person.” She made sure to emphasize the last part.

The outline of the butterfly appeared in front of the Akuma’s face for a moment before she silently nodded. “I can lead you to him, but not before you reveal your face.”

“Fine.” Ladybug didn’t hesitate. She was past that point long ago. There was no hesitation, no doubt… no regret. Not for her actions anyway. No more.

In the flash of light, instead of Ladybug, Marinette stood before the akuma.

“You’re…” the woman’s voice was stuck in her throat.

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Tikki, floating nearby gasped in fear. The Kwami didn’t get a chance to explain before Marinette resumed her transformation.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

The two leaped from the tower and started to zoom over the city. At first, they remained silent. Neither wanted to speak. It was tense anyway. It was, of course, Marinette who broke the silence first.

“Your… your look. Have you lost someone today?”

The woman didn’t answer immediately. She appeared to be mulling over the question at first. Or wondering if she should answer.

“A… colleague; coworker. He was… a friend of mine you could say. We’ve been working side-by-side for at least a decade.”

“I see…” Marinette pursed her lips into a thin line. “I’m sorry.” She spoke up after a moment. “I imagine you blame me now?”

“No.” The akuma snapped. “You’re just a child. I put the blame where it belongs. With heroes. And with people who chose to invite them.”

“Not hawkmoth?” Escaped ladybug’s mouth before she realized it.

“He… he never wanted this either. He isn’t a villain you believe him to be.” The akuma hesitated for a moment, but Marinette could sense it was her own opinion. She filed it in her brain under interesting.

-----------

When they arrived at Agreste manor, Marinette was surprised.

When they entered the study, she was baffled.

When they went down the secret elevator, she was angry.

When she stood before Hawkmoth, she was furious. And it wasn’t because he was her mortal enemy.

“So that’s why you neglect your only son?!” She screamed at him as soon as he turned to see her. His mouth moved, probably to give some excuse. “I don’t care if you want to rule the world or be a god or whatever. No matter what little sick excuse your brain found to justify your actions. You are not allowed to just ignore Adrien like that! He needs a father. He is a teenager and he needs you!”

“Madmoiselle Dupain-Cheng.” His voice was cold, but in a different way than she ever heard Gabriel Agreste or Hawkmoth speak.

“Gabriel Agreste. And I assume you akumatized your Assistant, Nathalie?” She pointed to the woman next to her.

“Astute observation, Ladybug. You risked a lot coming here to speak with me. I could take your miraculous now, or any other time. You gave me your most precious protection: your secret identity. So… what was that important?”

“I want to know. What is so important to you that you’re willing to go any length to get it?”

“That’s it?” Hawkmoth raised an eyebrow. “That’s all? You’re ready to risk everything over that little piece of knowledge?”

“Yes.” Once more, there was no hesitation. There was no doubt. Her heart had no place for doubts anymore. Her heart was still stuck under three levels worth of rubble.

“And what, pray tell, would you do if I told you?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“That depends.” She could see he was now intrigued, so she started to explain. “On whether I like the goal or not. And on whether you understand fully the implications. If you pass, you will get my miraculous and I will deliver you Chat Noir’s miraculous too. If you fail, you still get my miraculous. But you will never get the ring. I made sure that if something happens tonight, he will retire. He will leave Paris and toss the ring into the ocean in a concrete box. You would be left to torture the city all you wish until the League found you, but the ring’s power would forever remain out of your reach. You would be left with nothing but a criminal record. And your son would sooner than later be left without both parents. Of course, you could abandon your crusade, but then I would’ve won. I’m not a naive girl without a plan. Not anymore.” She spat the last part angrily, but her gaze was not focused on Hawkmoth, but far in the distance.

“I… see. Clever. You’re right. This will probably end tonight.” He looked her over top to bottom. It was the first time he stood so close face to face with Ladybug. His nemesis.

Gabriel wasn’t sure if he was impressed with her, or infuriated. Scratch that, he was sure he was both. She outsmarted him. She was willing to make an ultimate sacrifice for the sake of ending the fight. In that very moment, in her determined expression, he saw a reflection of another headstrong woman he knew. It was as if Emilie’s spirit stood before him.

“So? How will it be?” she asked impatiently.

“Follow me.” He simply motioned for her and started walking.

Soon, the group entered a large chamber, lit by several lights. In the center of a platform in the far end stood a glass coffin. Even from the distance, Marinette easily saw there was a woman inside. She was quick to pass Hawkmoth and get there, even as he was trying to grab her.

When the akuma and Gabriel arrived, they watched as Marinette was carefully pacing around the coffin and muttering under her breath.

“She overused the damaged miraculous.” It wasn’t a question, but Hawkmoth answered anyway.

“Yes. Only the wish can bring her back.”

“You’re one of the biggest idiots in this whole city!” The girl screamed. “She is not dead, you moron. There are literally five different ways listed in the book which, may I remind you, you possess!” She continued to yell at him. “Hell! You could akumatize someone and give him healing power. You know… use the butterfly miraculous like it was meant to be used!” She scolded. “But nooo! You’ve got to be an idiot and immediately go for the most dangerous, imprecise, reckless, chaotic, risky solution there was! I’m sure she would’ve been ashamed.”

Gabriel was at a loss for words. Was it really that easy? It couldn’t have been. He checked several times. He would’ve known. The akuma left Nathalie, who collapsed onto the ground. Some tear stains were now visible on her face. “I… I was just… I did what she told me. Only the wish can bring back the dead.” He stammered.

“She. Is. Not. Dead.” Marinette made sure to punctuate each word. “She is in a coma. She is alive you moron. Tikki! Spots off!” The flash of light signaled the end of her transformation. “Be silent, little one.” She said in a caring voice. She couldn’t bring herself to take her anger on Kwami, but she couldn’t doubt now. “Akumatize me. Give me the power to heal her.”

The corruption left the akuma that was floating in the air, only for Hawkmoth to get his hands around the white butterfly and pour a new dose of power into it. It flew the short distance between them and sunk into Marinette’s purse. She smirked as the corrupted energy passed through her, turning her into an akuma. That is until she could see how she looked.

“I’m not sure how you can call yourself a designer and yet dress me in this!” she complained. Her skin was now deep red, the color of blood, and her clothes turned into a white nurse uniform. Still, she walked to the coffin and easily opened the top. From her purse (now medic’s bag) she pulled a needle and injected the content into Emilie.

When the beautiful woman started to move, letting out an exhausted groan, Marinette sighed in relief.

“Wha… what’s going on… the last thing I… Gabriel!” She bolted upright and immediately moaned in pain. Her hand instinctively flew to her back. “Gabriel Agreste! Did you keep me in this coffin for a whole week!?” She yelled at her husband. “And who’re those two?” She pointed at Marinette, who was smiling next to her, and Nathalie, still exhausted on the floor. “You were supposed to only reveal this to Adrien if anything happened to me. There was no talk about your assistant and… um, who’re you?” The woman turned to the akuma, who sighed and tore a strap of her bag. The butterfly left the item and Marinette reverted back to her normal form.

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m… was… used to be Ladybug.”

“But you’re just a kid. And why was Ladybug active… Gabriel!” She roared and her husband took a step back.

Marinette was… surprised. She didn’t expect Emilie to be like that. From what Adrien told her, she was supposed to be the kindest, nicest person in the world. Then again, he might’ve been looking at it through tinted glasses.

“Yup.” The bluenette couldn’t stop herself from commenting. “He decided that the best way to wake you up was to get the miraculi of Ladybug and Black Cat.”

“You nincompoop. That plan was only for when I was dead.” She glared heatedly at her husband and Marinette couldn’t help but be a bit smug. “And you couldn’t get the items from a kid? How many other heroes are there?”

“Only Chat Noir. He’s my age. And I sometimes call in some help from others.” Marinette supplied quickly. She was having entirely too much fun from watching Emilie tear Hawkmoth a new one.

“Two kids! You couldn’t defeat two kids! I leave for just one second and you start getting your rear kicked by kids!”

“He also neglected Adrien for the last two years.” Marinette decided to have as much fun as she could while it lasted.

“Gabriel Agreste. You’re officially grounded until I sort this mess. Now take your secretary and leave. I will sort the mess with you later,” she ordered. Her husband could only nod and leave as quickly as possible.

Marinette was now holding her sides laughing. ”That was amazing. Merci Madame Agreste. I didn’t think I would get to laugh tonight… But this was too good.”

“Oh sunshine, don’t worry. I will get him in line for you. Whoever decided to let kids fight for them was clearly sick or senile.”

“Master Fu was… he made some mistakes. I… maybe if I wasn’t so young…”

“It’s not your fault. Whatever you blame yourself for. You shouldn’t have been responsible for Paris. Or whatever else my husband did. I think some time on the couch will do him great.” The woman got up and walked over to pull Marinette into a hug. She then led the girl back to the (now half-open) coffin and seated them both on the edge. “Why don’t you tell me what ails you? I’m sure I can help.”

For a moment, Marinette looked the woman in the eyes. Then, she started talking. She told her everything.

About a class full of idiots who believed every lie and actively fought against her.

About Lila, who manipulated everyone and did everything to turn her life into a personal version of hell.

About the teachers, who preferred to let her be walked on then do their jobs.

About her partner, the dorky cat who couldn’t take life seriously and at times was immature. She came to like his antics, but he infuriated her as much as he kept her sane.

About the so-called heroes, who came into the city and ruined her life.

About the destroyed bakery. The four bodies inside.

“It was her birthday. Today my nonna had her sixtieth birthday. We were celebrating when the Akuma happened. Except the Justice League came. Funny thing. The cure can return anyone killed by magic. It can’t return those killed by aliens tossing cars around.”

“Do you have any other family?” Emilie asked, worried about the girl. She walked through so much pain in her short life.

“My uncle… but he lives in Shanghai now. Papa was the only child and Maman moved here from Asia… I’m not sure what will happen next.” The girl revealed.

“Next? Next, you will come live with us. No strings attached. I have no need for your earrings or other miraculous and I can keep my husband in check. I owe you that much.”

“I… you don’t owe me anything, Madame.” The girl quickly protested. “You’re not responsible for what happened. I don’t blame your family. Those were the American heroes who killed my parents. They were the ones that destroyed half the city. They are the ones to blame,” Marinette informed the woman in a solemn tone.

“And that’s why I want you to stay with me. With us. I can protect you. Teach you. You can have your vengeance on those who wronged you. I can make you a queen. They will regret the day they wronged you.”

“I… I accept.” Marinette bowed her head.

#miraculous #maribat #justice league #dc #dcu #dc comics #ladybug #evil!Emilie Agreste #hawkmoth #bamf marinette

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angryschnauzer · 3 years ago

Text

Once Bitten

Summary: Whilst vacationing on a Colorado Ranch to try and overcome your writers block, you find yourself being drawn to the cowboys that staff the ranch rather than getting any actual work done. After a small accident in the truck you find yourself a lot closer to one cowboy in particular, who has a secret you are about to discover.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3204

Tags: Chris Evans (Actor) & Reader, Chris Evans (Actor)/You, AU Vampire Chris NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, neck biting, Vampires, Oral Sex, Cum Play

Notes: This is a rewrite of a old Hiddleston fic, but i felt it fit with Chris too. The original was written 5+ years ago so may not be my finest work.

I do not operate a tag list or masterlist. All my previous stories can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites, to get an alert whenever i post a new story, follow that blog and put it onto notifications. You can also find all my work on AO3.

You bounced in the seat of the truck as it made its way along the dirt track back to the lodge, a cloud of dust spewing from beneath the wheels. Clinging to the steering wheel, your knuckles white, you wished you’d taken the bigger, newer truck, the one with power steering. And a heater. And Seatbelts. But no, you had taken the smaller older one instead as it was easier to park.

Your cousin’s Colorado ranch had always been a refuge for you, so when you were suffering from writers block you’d asked if you could rent their lodge for a few weeks, hoping the quiet solitude of the Colorado landscape would inspire you. Little did you know that the only things around that would inspire, would be tumbleweeds and cowboys. And as a crime writer being inspired by watching lithe and toned men riding horses all day was not helping, in fact you were soon to end up in the romance isle of the bookstores, especially watching their taught and muscled thighs as they clung to the horses, sweat dripping down their bodies, hats tipped to the low autumn sunsets;

“HOLY CRAP!”

You were suddenly drawn out of your daydream as the one and only bend in the track had snuck up on you as you, slamming on the brakes but it was too late, the tyres skid on the loose earth, and you ploughed into the ditch, coming to an abrupt stop, albeit at a 45º angle.

Coughing as the cloud of dust settled, you groaned as a pain shot through your head, pulling yourself up to the driver’s seat you glanced into the rear-view mirror. A slight cut on your forehead, you touched it lightly and winced, there was going to be one hell of a lump there in the morning. Testing your limbs and you were relieved that they all worked fine.

“Darlin’, y’alright?”

The sudden voice at the side of the truck startled you, making you squeal and let go of the steering wheel, causing you slide over the bench seat to the far side of the truck. It was Chris; one of the ranch hands, in fact the one in particular you’d been trying to keep out of your mind.

“Miss?” He enquired

Snapping out of your trance you finally squeaked out an answer;

“Chris, thank you...yes I’m fine.”

“Here, lemme’ give ya’ hand.” he said, wrenching the door open and reaching into the truck as you extended your hand, and he was pulling you out of the truck and onto the side of the road. You swayed slightly, a sudden rush of blood to your head.

He steadied you, watching you sway slightly before you settled;

“You’re bleeding...” he said, his nostrils slightly flaring, those intense eyes staring at the wound on your head.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a plaid handkerchief, gently pressing it to your head wound. His tongue lightly reached out and touched his top lip with concentration as you felt his light touch, his fingers cold against your heated skin.

“Do you need a ride Miss?”

Hell yes you thought, but you realised the ride that you had in mind was probably not what he meant.

“That would be very kind of you, thank you” you replied as you managed to pull your mind from the gutter you said with a smile, hoping you weren’t stumbling on your words too much.

“Great!” He said with a smile that sent shivers down your spine; “I’ll just untie Vincent...”

“Vincent?”

“My horse.”

You paled a little. In the weeks you’d spent on the farm you’d so far managed to avoid actually riding a horse, they didn’t like you, you didn’t like them, even after a lot of trying on your part with you offering them carrots and sugar cubes over the fences, trying to stroke their noses and generally be nice to them, you’d been nibbled, snorted at, and most of the time they just ran off leaving you coughing and spluttering from the dust they stirred up.

You watched as Chris strode over to the fence where he’d tied Vincent and busied himself unhooking the reins, turning to you as if presenting his steed to you. Reluctantly you walked over, not entirely sure how to even get onto this damned beast.

“Just put your foot into the stirrup and pull yourself up.” He said as he held the animal still.

Right. Well. Ok. You might as well try, knowing you were more than likely going to make an utter fool of yourself. Foot into stirrup and gripping onto the saddle, you heaved yourself up. Imagine a toddler trying to climb over a beach ball but getting stuck halfway; butt in the air, you’d neglected to swing your free leg over the horses back and as you now tried to lift your knee the horse to start shifting. This wasn’t going well, and you were just thankful that Chris couldn’t see your face that had no doubt turned a rather comical look of indignant frustration on it right then.

“Here let me help.” As he rested his hand on your free leg “Lift your knee and part your legs, you need to swing it over to get into the riding position.”

Well duh, your mind was now not on the kind of riding you were currently attempting, but as you felt Chris’s strong hand lift your knee over the saddle you were suddenly upright and sat on the horse. You wobbled a little where your feet had fallen out of the stirrups, but your mind was soon elsewhere as Chris lifted himself skilfully onto the saddle behind you, settling in, his crotch pressing against your butt.

You chanted a little mantra in your mind to keep your thoughts of arousal at bay as he arranged the reins and you set off, the weight of his body pressing you forward in the saddle, pressing your crotch against the little uppy-holdy-thingy at the front of the saddle that you presumed was a form of a handle for when only one person was using the saddle.

Soon you were on your way, Chris clicking his tongue and the horse slowly turned towards the ranch. The gentle rock and sway of the horse as it plodded its way along the track soon had you a little worked up, not to mention the hardness you were starting to feel press into the back of your jeans. In an attempt to distract yourself you started chattering away, attempting to make small talk whilst trying to disguise the fact you were a little breathless from the gentle pressure that was tormenting you, turning you on. You were thankful for the darkness that was descending around you as you were sure when you did get off this damned animal the front of your jeans would be soaked through. Chris was more of a listener than a talker, very few words of his being part of your conversation, yet as you felt his breath on your neck, your voice faltered and you spent the rest of the journey in silence, until your cabin appeared over the hill, the last rays of the sunset making the windows seem ablaze.

As you rode past the windows, you saw your reflection in them, you riding the horse. You. On a horse. Just you. Wait, what? Before your mind could process the sight Chris pulled on the reins and Vincent came to a halt at the bottom of the porch steps, letting out a little snort as it did so;

“Let me get off first then I’ll give you a hand down.”

Chris skilfully hopped off the horse, making it seem so graceful. Now it was your turn; swinging your far leg over the saddle you got halfway there but your foot got caught in something. Giving it a little shake it caused your body to overbalance, and you watched almost in slow motion as you practically oozed off the horse into an upside down heap, your foot still caught, your shoulders on the ground and your foot suspended above you.

You heard Chris suppress a snigger; “Not a natural rider are ya’?” as he reached over and unhooked whatever had caught your foot, causing you to fall to the ground with a grunt. He quickly hooked the reins over the porch and extended a hand to you, pulling you to your feet. You swayed a little, falling against his chest. Oh the scent – spice and musk – you could have buried your face into that plaid shirt and just inhaled, but perhaps not, perhaps that’d be just slightly inappropriate, you reasoned with yourself.

Pulling yourself right again you were still slightly unsteady on your feet, you felt Chris’s arm around your hip as he helped you up the porch steps and reached for the door, pushing the pair of you inside. You turned to thank him but he was suddenly upon you, his long arms around yours, pinning them to your sides, there was a sharpness to his movements as he spun you around so your back was against his chest. He tilted your head to one side and you realised it was not passion that was driving him. You felt his lips on your neck then the sharpness of teeth. Very sharp teeth. You screamed as you felt them pierce your skin, struggling in his arms as you felt a burning on your neck, the teeth sinking deeper. You could hear the suckling noises as he drank from you, his lips firmly against your neck, his tongue massaging the spot below where his teeth had breached your skin. You started to slump in his arms, realisation that you’d fallen into the arms of a monster. But as your body relaxed, you started to feel the desire within you build again. The feel of his lips and tongue on your neck was now dulling the pain his teeth had caused. You relaxed in his arms and found your feet, pressing back against his chest, not realising your desire until you groaned as his lips moved against your neck.

You reached back, your arms grasping onto the sides of his jeans, pulling him against you. You could feel that he was hard, and very big from the feel of it. His grip around your torso loosened, and one hand moved up to where your shirt was buttoned, ripping down in one swift motion, buttons springing apart as they flew off. His hand splayed over the soft flesh of your stomach, running up to your bra, and slipping inside to grasp on your breasts. Never releasing his lips hold on your neck, but you could no longer feel his teeth within you, only the soft suckling of his tongue.

He released his grip on you but rather than running you simply span around in his arms and pulled him down so his lips met yours. You could taste a metallic tang on his lips and tongue and realised it was your blood. Rather than disgusting you it turned you on even more.

You ran your hands to his chest, fumbling with the buttons as you rid him of his shirt, running your hands over the soft jersey of his tee before pulling that up so you could touch his toned chest, down his stomach to where a small trail of hair led to further delights below.

Never breaking contact with his lips you blindly worked on his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and working your hand inside, feeling his hard dick loose within the denim. Not releasing him your other hand lowered his fly, allowing you further access and his firm hardness heavy in your hand.

Breaking away from the kiss you grinned up at him, his gaze boring deep into you, a slight look of shock on his face.

“You’re not running. Ya’ not scared?”

You didn’t answer, instead you started to drop to your knees, keeping hold of his dick as you ran your other hand down his thigh, your fingers softly running over the firm muscles, gently tickling the hairs that covered his skin. On your knees you looked up at him, licking your lips before pressing them forwards and placing a gentle kiss on the tip. Running your tongue over the slit, tasting the salty liquid that had pooled there.

Never breaking eye contact you opened your mouth and took his hard shaft between your lips. You slid your tongue along the seam underneath, bobbing your head slowly up and down. As you watched Chris’s face you could see his fangs descending again, his eyes becoming hooded until his head tipped back. Taking him deeper you felt his tip against the back of your throat, inciting a groan from above you.

Pulling back off you lightly grazed your teeth against his dick, catching around the head and gently over the crown. Well, if he was going to violate you with his teeth it’s the least you could do as payback. However he seemed to enjoy it, as his hands flew to your head and you heard him mutter;

“Oh god Darlin’, do that again.”

Happy to oblige you repeated your actions, running your teeth over him, lightly all the time and then down his length, taking him deep again. On the third pass you heard a hiss escape from his lips; “Enough”, before he roughly pulled you to your feet, and crushing you against his chest for a rough kiss.

He toed off his boots and stepped out of his fallen jeans, walking you backwards over to the couch, spinning you around so the front of your thighs were against the upholstery. Bringing his hands up to your breasts, he grasped the front of your bra, tearing it in two, before roughly pawing at them, your nipples rubbing against his calloused palms.

You felt his lips against your ear; “You’re hot for me... so desperate and eager. I like it.”

His hands lowered to your jeans, releasing your fly and pushing the material away, before rubbing his hand between your thighs, feeling how wet your panties were, pushing at your folds through the cotton, as he rutted into the crease of your butt; “So wet for me... does fear turn you on?”

“I’m not afraid.”

He chuckled into your ear; “You should be...”

He ripped the material in two, letting the remains of your panties fall to the floor before pushing you over the arm of the couch, leaving you prone and your thighs wide.

Steadying yourself on the cushions you glanced over your shoulder, admiring Chris’s near naked body, his dick in his hand as he came up behind you. He paused for a moment as he pulled his crumpled tee over his head before steadying himself with a hand on your rump and you felt his tip against your swollen pussy. As he slowly ran the tip up and down your folds, soaking it with your juices, you moaned, wriggling your hips, needing to be filled.

“Getting desperate for me?” Chris said with a heavy voice

“Just fuck me, now!” you practically screamed at him.

“Your wish is my command.” and before you could brace yourself he’d pressed into you, sinking deep on the first thrust. He seemed to go on forever, inch after inch slid into you, only for it all to be suddenly withdrawn and thrust back in one making you squeal;

“Yes! Oh God!”

“You couldn’t get farther from God if you tried.” and with that he set off at a punishing pace, fucking you hard, bent over and prone to him, his big hands gripping tightly – painfully – onto your hips as he used your body.

You’d never been fucked so hard or so well, you were writhing on the sofa in ecstasy, the man, no; the monster behind you never relenting on his actions on your body, making your juices flow down your thighs, his large hands spreading your legs wider so that his thick girth could gain further entry. You felt one of his hands flutter over your rump.

The suddenness of his palm making contact with your behind made you squeal, your breath catching in your throat as you anticipated another, not to be disappointed when his palm made contact with your other buttock moments later.

Something you hadn’t liked to admit to any of your ex’s is that done right you were quite happy with a bit of spanking, but those that had attempted it had always done it half-heartedly.

“Oh fuck, Chris... please... don’t stop.”

Never letting up on his pace of fucking your pussy he started to spank you in time to his thrusts, and as you felt your orgasm building, you gripped tightly onto the cushions of the couch;

“Yes yes yes yes yes, more, harder!” All spluttering from your mouth, begging and pleading, getting closer and closer, until your body succumbed to the pleasure, gripping onto him as you rode out your orgasm, writhing beneath his touch, rocking your body, the waves of ecstasy flowing over you as it overwhelmed your mind.

Chris smoothed his palms over your reddened cheeks before going back to gripping your thighs, his thrusts getting harder and faster as he now drove into your pleasure soaked body.

Suddenly he pulled out and grasped your shoulder, pulling you round and down to your knees. As he towered over you, his voice low and deep;

“Open your mouth” you did as he asked, on your knees in front of him, he furiously stroked his dick, you reached for your tits and played with them;

“Such a good girl” he praised as his body went rigid and he started to cum, watching as ropes of it sprayed over your face and chest, dripping down between your tits. One last spurt, and he brought his dick up to your lips where you gently took him in, tasting your combined pleasure on it, gently giving it a single suck before releasing him.

He staggered back and found the breakfast bar, resting against a barstool. Both of you out of breath, a hungry silence hung in the air, only broken by the sounds of your breathing as you still gasped for air.

You were the first to break the silence; “How come I didn’t need to invite you in?”

“It’s not your home. I can come and go as a please as long as it’s not the persons main residence.” Chris replied.

“You’re really a vampire?”

“Do you need more proof?”

“Are you going to turn into a bat or something?”

He sighed; “Why would I want to turn myself into a bat?” a small smirk appeared on his lips;

“Anyway I suggest you get up off your knees Darlin’, I’m not done with you for the night yet”. He said with a very dirty grin now spreading over his face.

No longer afraid you got to your feet;

“I’ll be ready for you in the shower”

You made your way to the bathroom, looking over your shoulder as you swayed your hips;

“You coming?”

“Yup, and so will you be Darlin’”

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x you #vampire!Chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

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Forever Just Isn’t Enough - George Weasley

Title: Forever Just Isn’t Enough Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!! Fingering, female receiving oral, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cockwarming, feeling full kink ?? again idk if that’s a real thing but oh well Extra Warnings: major character death!! Minor character death. Slightly alcoholism, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief and dealing with grief, one comment that could allude to suicide, mentions of death and infant loss, mentions of blood and blood loss. Mentions of injuries. Mentions of childbirth. Summary: just when things seem like they can finally fall into place, everything nearly falls apart. Will George and Y/N really get their forever? Or will their dreams crumble around them? A/N: summary is shit but here it is! Here is its, the mammoth that is good girl part 3!! This fic has been nearly a month in the making and it is officially the longest thing I’ve ever written!! It’s 23k words so buckle up! This really is the final part, and I have definitely become attached to this universe. Everything in italics is flashbacks!! I would like to give a huge thanks to @pineapplesandpinas who left a reply on one of my posts that actually inspired this fic! I’d also like to give a huge thanks to the person who gave me some editing help and is coincidentally the person who requested this in the first place, I hope you like it!! As always feedback is welcome! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27 @allforthexgame @pigwidgexn @hufflrpuffforfred @wand3ringr0s3 @whiz-bangs78 @gcdric @starlightweasley @vogueweasley @theweasleysredhair @dracoswhore007 @lexymoniqu @amourtentiaa @mischiefisbeingmanaged Read Part 1 here, Read Part 2 here

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Y/N’s chest heaves with deep breathes as she runs down a corridor, watching walls crumble as they get hit with stray curses. She used to be able to walk through Hogwarts with her eyes closed and know exactly where she was in any given moment. But now her heart hammers in her chest as she stands at the junction of two different hallways, unsure of where they’ll lead her. Y/N can hear footsteps barreling towards her, and in a moment of panic she heads to the left, gripping her wand tightly in her hand.

Her legs carry her as fast as they can down the hallway as she silently prays to find someone she knows. By the time she clambered into the room of requirement from the passageway that starts at the Hogs Head Inn preparations for the impending battle were already in full swing and the Order was spread out around the entire castle. Y/N had caught a flash of red hair as she helped Cho Chang cast a protection spell, but by the time she turned her head it was already gone. Death Eaters reached the castle nearly 30 minutes ago, and Y/N has been on her own the entire time, casting curses and spells at them as she searched for Ginny or Hermione. For George. She’s already seen a few bodies lying still on the floor, and her heart is in her stomach with the thought that George could be one of them. Laying lifeless in some hallway all by himself.

Y/N starts to slow down as a wall approaches and she can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. A dead end. The footsteps behind her persist, and she has no choice but to stop as she reaches the end of the hallway, turning around to face her fate. She raises her wand as she looks at the person coming up towards her, but it falters slightly as a familiar face stops just a few feet away. “Adrian?”

Adrian grins as he takes a few steps closer to Y/N, but it’s not the same fond smile he’d shared with her many times. It’s wicked, evil almost and Y/N tries to swallow the lump that’s suddenly formed in her throat as memories of the last time she’d seen Adrian come swirling to the forefront of her mind.

Y/N turns around when she feels a tap on her shoulder, a wide smile on her face. Seven years of hard work has all lead to this: graduation day. She feels absolutely euphoric, and when she turns around and spots Adrian she pulls him into a hug – too excited to second guess herself. It’s the first time they’ve hugged in nearly half a year and while it feels familiar, it’s mostly awkward.

After the conversation Y/N and George had on the train ride back to school from winter break Y/N really made a conscious effort to start a new life with George. The way they had been operating as a couple was only leading them towards disaster, and they were both willing to do anything to avoid that possibility.

The main change they made together was to spend more time together as a couple that didn’t involve getting rid of their clothes. Instead of sitting with each other’s friends during meals all the time, they decided to sit on their own a few times a week so they would get a chance to just talk to each other and reconnect after a crazy day. Y/N started to spend the night over in George’s dorm with him, and while they did have sex most of the time, they took the time to just lay there and hold each other too. While Y/N was busy doing her homework in the library George would just sit there with her, sometimes working on stuff for the joke shop, but sometimes just sitting there and watching her work.

But by far the biggest change was one that rested in Y/N’s hands alone, she needed to set new boundaries with Adrian. Her friends had become her security blanket over the years, their friendship began on that first train ride to Hogwarts, when they were all nervous and scared. She relied on them heavily to be her emotional support, and when George came into her life Y/N made no efforts to change any of that. Y/N had thought George could just slip into their friend group as if he had always been there, but it quickly became clear that wasn’t the case.

Her relationship with Adrian was definitely the biggest point of contention in her and George’s relationship, and was thus the one thing that really changed. It was common for her and Adrian to be physically affectionate towards each other. An arm around the shoulders, a tight hug after a long day, even the occasional hand holding. Y/N hadn’t realized how that might hurt George, and so she put a stop to it immediately. On the occasions where she did sit with her friends at meals she stuck by Daphne’s side, instead of falling into her usual seat next to Adrian. She stopped wearing his Quidditch jumpers to their matches and she made sure to quiet his flirtatious comments, reminding him that she has a boyfriend now, and comments like that make her and George uncomfortable.

So now being close with Adrian feels too close, and while he tries to linger in her grasp Y/N pulls away with a tight grin. “I can’t believe it, we’re finally done!”

“This is the last chance we have, Y/N,” Adrian starts, placing his hands on her hips. Before Y/N can shake off his grasp Adrian lurches forward and presses their lips together.

Y/N moves her face away and tries to push Adrian off of her. “Adrian, stop. I’m with George, you know that.”

“But you could be with me. You should be with me,” Adrian tells her, tightening his grip on her hips. “That’s how it was supposed to be, Y/N. Marcus and Daphne would get married, we would get married. Our kids would grow up together, we’d stand on the same platform we met on holding hands as we send our kids off to school. I love you. And you were supposed to love me too.”

Before Y/N has a chance to respond, a familiar hand is grabbing Adrian’s shoulder and pulling him away from Y/N. George stands in between them, and while Y/N can’t see George’s face, she can tell from the way his back muscles are tensed that he’s pissed.

“What the hell are you doing, Pucey?” George spits. “Y/N doesn’t feel that way about you. She never has and she never will. If this wasn’t supposed to be a special day for her I’d knock your fucking lights out like I’ve wanted to since November. So, get the fuck out of here before I make you get the fuck out of here.”

Y/N wraps her arms around George’s neck as he turns around, watching Adrian stalk off over his shoulder.

“Long time no see, Y/N,” he taunts, keeping his wand pointed at her.

Y/N tightens her grip on her wand, keeping it at his chest. Their friendship may have ended in disaster, but she hopes that the years of memories they had before that keep him from doing anything. Adrian may not be the person she thought he was, but Y/N doesn’t want to hurt him. “How’ve you been?” she asks, trying to keep her voice even.

Adrian scoffs. “Don’t act like you care about me now, Y/N. You had your chance to be with me. And you gave it up, for what? True Love?” his voice is mocking, condescending and it makes Y/N’s stomach turn. “But where’s Weasley now? When you need him most?” Adrian’s eyes fall from Y/N’s face to her neck and she lets out a gasp as he places his wand on her chest and lifts up the end of her necklace with it. The tip of his wand is now directly in front of her neck, and a cold sweat runs down her back. “Still wearing this cheap necklace, I see. If you were mine you’ d be dripping with diamonds and pearls. You’d want for nothing.”

“All I want is George,” Y/N answers firmly. Y/N hasn’t taken the necklace George gave her for their first Christmas together off since the day he put it on her neck. It’s like a promise ring, it’s George’s promise of forever, and in these times she’s needed it now more than ever. “So, go head and kill me, or Crucio me, or do whatever you want. But I’m gonna die thinking about George, I’m going to die loving George. And I hope that knowledge drives you crazy for the rest of your life.” Y/N closes her eyes as Adrian’s mouth opens, getting ready to cast her own curse. But before either of them can say anything a familiar voice is casting a curse of their own.

“Stupefy!” George shouts, his wand aimed directly at Adrian’s back.

Y/N’s eyes pop back open as Adrian’s body slumps to the ground, and there George is, standing just a few feet away, his stance firm and his wand raised high. Tears start to spill down her cheeks as she steps over Adrian’s unconscious body before Y/N is running at full speed towards her boyfriend and jumping into his open arms. “Oh my god Georgie,” she sobs, pressing her face into his neck.

“Hi teacup,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. He can hear her laugh at the nickname, and George presses a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “I’ve been looking all over for you, darling. I’ve been losing my fucking mind.”

Y/N pulls away from George’s neck so she can kiss him desperately. It’s been far too long since she last saw him, and Y/N can’t help but think about the last time George held her like this.

“Y/N! Grab my hand!” George shouts, reaching out to her.

Y/N shouts a curse at a snatcher as she runs towards George, gripping onto his hand tightly with her own. She shuts her eyes tight as George pulls her into his chest, and it feels like all the air is being sucked from her lungs as George disapperates them to safety.

“Fucking hell,” Y/N groans as she lands on her back in the middle of a field, George landing right on top of her. George’s fingers dig into her sides and Y/N laughs as she pushes at his shoulders. “Get off of me you oaf I’m suffocating!”

They both giggle as George rolls off of Y/N, settling on his back next to her. “Are you okay, teacup?”

Y/N takes a few deep breaths, trying to find the answer to George’s question. Official Order business put them in the middle of some forest on the outskirts of Essex, and just before they were leaving they ran into a band of snatchers. They ran and fought them for nearly 20 minutes before George had managed to take them to wherever they are now.

“I’m okay,” Y/N answers honestly a few minutes later. She turns onto her side so she can look down at George. “Are you doing okay? Where are we?”

“Aunt Muriel’s house is about 100 yards north of us, we used to play Quidditch out here when we’d visit her as kids. It’s the only place I could think of that would be safe and secluded.” George reaches up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. “I’m doing okay. Better now that I’m here with you.”

Y/N smiles at George sadly and leans down to kiss him softly. After the ministry fell Y/N left her training program at St. Mungo’s to work for the Order full time, and she was placed in a safe house up in Wales. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes has been closed for weeks, and Fred and George have turned it into Potterwatch Headquarters. It’s now early November, and Y/N hasn’t seen George since the beginning of August at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“I wish I could come home,” she says quietly, running her fingers through George’s hair. He hasn’t been home for Molly to cut it and it’s starting to get long again. “It’s so lonely up in Wales without you. Feels like I can’t get a proper nights sleep without you in bed next to me.”

George grabs Y/N’s chin and pulls her down into a searing kiss. “Our bed is cold without you, teacup. Your pillow doesn’t even smell like you anymore.” He reaches up then and untucks her necklace from the collar of her shirt. “Still wearing this old thing?” he teases, toying with the charms. “I should get you something new, flashier. Even with Diagon Alley closed we’ve been doing some mail order business. And I’ve got all that savings. Could get you something nice.”

Y/N scoffs and slaps George on the chest playfully. “I love my necklace, Georgie. You act like you still don’t wear that stupid teapot pin every day,” she teases. “Teapots are kinda our thing and I love that. Besides you should spend your savings on something important. Like a new broom or something.”

“Or an engagement ring, or a wedding, or a house,” George muses with a grin. “I’m gonna end up spending it on you either way, Y/N. You take your pick.”

“Stop, don’t say that,” Y/N responds, her cheeks flushing pink.

George pulls Y/N onto his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I promised you forever, didn’t I, Y/N? Once this war is over I’m going to put the fattest diamond money can buy on your ring finger and officially make you mine forever. Got it?”

“It doesn’t have to be the fattest diamond, just something simple and classy,” Y/N mumbles, pressing her face into George’s chest. She can feel his laughter rumble in his chest, and she smiles against his shirt. “I wish we could just lay here forever.”

“Me too,” George responds quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you. So much that it hurts sometimes. You know that, right?”

Y/N looks up at George, a look of concern on her features. “Of course, George. I love you too.”

“I just,” George pauses to clear his throat, needing to choke back the rush of emotion he’s suddenly feeling. “I need you to know, how much you mean to me. In case, in case this is the last time you ever see me. This war, everything is so uncertain. I could die, I just-,” George’s words cut off as he suddenly sobs, and hot tears start to roll down his cheeks.

“Georgie,” Y/N coos, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. She rolls off of him then onto her back, pulling George so he’s half laying on top of her with his head resting on her chest. She starts to run a hand through his hair, while the other rubs his back soothingly. “You can’t think about stuff like that, okay? I know things are scary out there but we gotta stay focused on the positive. That fat diamond and the big wedding and the house. The dog, the chickens, the babies. How am I gonna get my six little ginger babies if you die? Hm?”

“Six?” George asks with a sniffle. “I thought we agreed on four.”

“Yeah well I’ve had a lot of time to think while I’ve been on my own and I changed my mind,” Y/N chuckles. “Either way you have to stay alive in order to give me all that. So promise me George, that you’ll stay alive. That you’ll fight hard, for me. For you. For our ginger babies.”

George picks his head up and pulls Y/N’s face down to his, kissing her slowly and with so much love it makes his head dizzy. “I promise. Forever.”

That moment was already six months ago, but to Y/N it’s felt like a lifetime, so she hugs him a bit tighter, trying to convey six months’ worth of feelings and sentiments into one embrace. Time is not on their side, and while Y/N would happily stand here in George’s embrace for the next few weeks, if they both plan on staying alive they can’t linger too long.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Y/N asks, pulling away slightly so she can properly look at George. There’s dust and debris all over his face, she doesn’t see any blood, and as her hands roam around his torso and arms she can’t feel any bandages and he doesn’t wince at all.

George chuckles and cups Y/N’s face in one of his hands. “I’m absolutely fine, teacup. Not a scratch, I promise. Can’t give you those six ginger babies like I promised if I’m hurt, can I?”

“It’s seven now,” Y/N mumbles, pressing her face into his chest. “And I want a sheep too.”

“And a sheep? That’s it, that’s where I draw the line,” George teases, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What about you? Are you okay, Y/N? I thought Adrian. I thought Adrian was gonna kill you.”

Y/N shudders at the thought of what might have happened and looks up at George. There’s so much that’s happened since they last spoke, so much she needs to tell him. But now is certainly not the time or place for it. Once they get through this night they’ll have the rest of their lives to be together, heal together. “I’m doing alright. Better now that I’ve seen you. Have you seen anyone else?”

George shakes his head. “Fred and I got separated a bit ago, I saw him with Percy not too long ago, just before I found you. Ginny was on bridge duty with Neville and Seamus so who knows where she ended up. Dad and Mum were in the Great Hall when I left them, and I haven’t seen Ron, Hermione or Harry since the preparations began. But honestly I haven’t been paying attention too much. I’ve been trying to find you, teacup. I was worried when you didn’t show up in the room of requirement.”

“I was on duty, with Tonks. By the time we got the memo and got over here stuff was already going on, people were running around and making preparations and stuff. I tried to find you, but Cho needed my help. I’ve been running around this damn castle trying to find you,” Y/N explains.

Just then a wall somewhere near them collapses, and George covers Y/N’s head with his body. George kisses Y/N again as the dust around them settles, needing to feel close to her for another moment. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a brief kiss to her lips between each set of words. His eye catches the shine of her necklace and George reaches up, feeling the charms between his fingertips. “Just a little bit longer until we can have our forever, yeah?”

“As long as you don’t die on me,” Y/N tries to tease, digging her fingers into George’s shoulders. The fear bubbling in her stomach creeps into her voice, and she rubs her thumb over the teapot pin stuck to the lapel of George’s jacket, needing to ground herself with something familiar. “You can’t die on me, George.” Y/N can feel tears running down her cheeks, but she doesn’t move to wipe them away, not wanting to let go of George, even for a second. “I can’t live without you.”

“You’re my everything,” George murmurs, cupping Y/N’s cheek so he can brush away some of her tears with his thumb. “And you’re never getting rid of me. Got that?”

Y/N nods and leans up on her tiptoes to press one last kiss to George’s mouth. “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Y/N runs as fast as her legs will carry her back to the Great Hall. It’s been hours since she saw George and her hands haven’t stopped shaking since Voldemort started to speak to them, urging them to stop fighting and collect their dead. George could be one of those dead and even though Y/N’s eyes are blurry from the tears she’s shedding, she doesn’t stop to wipe them away. She feels like she can’t breathe, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s running. Y/N knows she won’t be able to properly breathe until she sees George again, so she just keeps moving.

Her legs are on fire when she reaches the Great Hall and as she pushes the heavy wooden door open her legs finally come to a screeching halt. There are makeshift gurneys all over the floor, some covered, some not. But Y/N is sure the one thing they have in common is the fact that there’s a dead body laying on top of it. She tries not to let herself linger on their faces too long, just trying to spot a shock of red hair.

That’s when she sees it. The Weasley family is at the other end of the Great Hall, standing around one of the gurneys. Y/N can see Bill and Fleur clutching each other, and everyone has tears in their eyes. She can’t see who’s laying on the ground, but as she lets her eyes pass over everyone a gut-wrenching sob leaves her throat as one thing becomes clear. It’s one of the twins. Whichever one is still alive has their back towards her with their head bowed, so she has no idea who it is.

Y/N’s knees quiver as she forces herself to walk over there, bile rising up her throat. He had promised. George had promised her forever. Had promised her that he’d stay alive. Had promised to spend the rest of his life loving her. They had planned out their entire life, and now that may be all gone.

“George. George, please,” Y/N chokes out as she approaches, her legs feeling like jelly. Whoever it is finally turns around, and Y/N takes her first full deep breath in what feels like forever.

“Teacup,” George cries as Y/N launches herself onto him, his arms wrapping around her waist to hold her close. He presses his face into her neck and just sobs, his shoulders shaking from the force of his tears.

Y/N starts to shush George and rub his back, trying desperately to soothe him. It has always been Fred and George. The only person she ever had to share George with was Fred and she never minded a bit. Fred and George were the most dynamic duo the Wizarding World has ever seen, destined to live out the rest of their days making the world laugh and causing chaos wherever they go. But now it’ll be just George, and Y/N has no idea how to make that okay.

Fred and Y/N certainly had their issues. Years of hating someone will do that to you, and when she and George started dating it became a silent agreement between them to be civil. But now, looking at Fred’s pale face over George’s shoulder, Y/N can feel her momentary relief rush out of her body, and overwhelming sadness takes its place as fresh hot tears start to roll down her cheeks.

Her and Fred had just barely started to come together when the war started, and now they’ll never have that chance again.

“He’s fine you know,” Fred comments as he comes to stand next to Y/N. “You’re looking at him as if he’s going to fall apart into a million tiny pieces with a hard gust of wind.”

Y/N chuckles, and finally looks away from George so she can look up at Fred. Bill and Fleur’s wedding is in full swing, and while Y/N knows this is supposed to be a time to celebrate, a rare moment of sunshine in the darkness of the Wizarding World, panic settled deep in her stomach the moment she stumbled into the Burrow with Ron and saw George lying on the couch, bleeding out of his head and it hasn’t left since. Had the curse been aimed half a centimeter to the left they’d be at a funeral right now, not a wedding. Molly had managed to heal George up fine, and he’s been his usual jovial self over the few days it’s been since his injury, but Y/N can’t help but still worry.

“It makes me feel better,” Y/N admits honestly, letting her eyes find George again. “I’m afraid that if I look away for too long he’ll just disappear. That all my fears will be confirmed and there will forever be a George sized hole in my heart and my life.” Y/N swallows thickly, trying to push away the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. “He could have died, and I truly wouldn’t know what to do with myself if that happened.”

“I thought he was dead,” Fred says after a few moments of silence, surprising Y/N. “When Dad and I got back he asked where George was, and no one said anything. Remus, Harry, they all just looked at us. I figured he was dead. That’s why they wouldn’t tell us. There was so much blood when we got in there, I actually thought he was dead. And then he moved, and it felt like I could breathe again.”

Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches George fiddle with the gauze wrapped around his head. She wants to just go over there and slap his hands away and remind him he has to keep it clean if he wants it to heal, a conversation she already had to have with him this morning after she found him sipping coffee in the kitchen with his toothbrush sticking out of the side of his head.

“It’s my fault. I wasn’t even supposed to go. But Tonks is pregnant, and she shouldn’t be putting her life on the line like that. Not even for blimin’ Harry Potter. George tried to convince me not to go. Said he’d worry about me too much if I was out there.” Y/N shrugs, taking a long sip of champagne. “Maybe if I had stayed here like I was supposed to he would have been able to dodge the curse, or he’d have been focused enough to send Snape out of the sky before he even got a chance to hurt George.”

Fred nudges Y/N with his elbow so she’ll look up at him. “You like, really love him, don’t you?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Really? It took George almost dying for you to realize that? Figured your first clue would have been all the times you heard us having sex. Or maybe the fact that I’ve been living with you guys for over a year now.”

“Okay, no need to be nasty,” Fred huffs. “Obviously I know you guys are in love with each other or whatever. But you’re like really in it, yeah? For the long haul. Thought maybe you guys shouting about how you’re going to be together forever was just some weird sex thing.”

“I mean it is a weird sex thing,” Y/N tells him, laughing as he grimaces. “But it’s more than that too obviously. There’s no person on this planet I’d rather be with than George. Or who I love more than George. He’s my everything, Fred. I’m not going to hurt him, I promise.”

“Better not,” Fred mumbles with a scoff. “I’ll curse you into next week if you do, bloody girl or not.”

Y/N can hear the smile in Fred’s voice, but before she gets a chance to respond George is heading over towards them, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Look at this, my brother and my girlfriend getting along, how cute,” he teases, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. She reaches up to fix his bandage where it slipped, and her gentle touch makes his knees feel weak. “Just in time too. Be a bit awkward for Fred to be my best man if you two hate each other still.”

“Who said I’d want to be your best man anyway, git?” Fred jokes. “All this wedding crap is for the birds.”

George rolls his eyes fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. “Fine, I’ll just ask Ron or Harry or Lee. Maybe even Charlie. You’re not the only man for the job, Freddie.”

“But I’m the best man for it,” Fred responds, causing both Y/N and George to groan at his lame joke. “Try and replace me as your best man again and you’ll never hear the end of my cheesy jokes, moron.”

“No need to be feisty, I was just playing. Of course, you’re the only man for the job.”

Now Fred will never get to be the best man at their wedding. Or be there when their children are born. Or have children of his own. Just like how Y/N and George planned out their lives, he and Fred had done the same. Buying houses next to each other so they never had to travel far to see the other. They both wanted to have a boy first, close in age, so they each had someone to hand the joke shop down to. But in the blink of an eye all of that has changed, and Y/N doesn’t know if George will ever be the same again.

“You’re okay, George. It’s all gonna be okay,” Y/N coos, just wanting to calm him down. She presses a few kisses to the side of his face slowly, just letting him know that she’s there. Her arms wind around his neck as George’s grip tightens on her waist and she just hugs him tightly.

Y/N hears someone sob behind her, and she releases George so he can pull Ron into a bone crushing hug. She pulls Ginny into a hug next, letting the younger girl rest her head on her shoulder. Y/N isn’t officially a Weasley, not by any means, but this family has shown her nothing but love and welcomed her with open arms and she wants to do everything she can to help them through this. She and Hermione lock eyes, and Y/N can tell by the way the other girl is hovering on the edge of the circle with her hand on Ron’s shoulder she feels the same way.

Harry is hovering just behind Hermione, but instead of coming closer like Y/N expects he turns on his heel and heads out of the Great Hall. Y/N knows that can only mean one thing. This battle is far from over, and she hugs Ginny just a little tighter, hoping it gives them both the strength to keep fighting.

The sun is already high in the sky when everyone makes it back to The Burrow. They’re living in a new world, a world that will never be plagued by Voldemort’s darkness, but it seems darkness of other kinds has already started to take its place. 50 people lost their lives that night alone, not to mention the countless others who’ve been lost along the way. Death has touched many families in the Wizarding World, and everyone can feel its burden as they collapse into chairs at the kitchen table.

Molly starts worrying about food and making everyone tea, while George shuffles up the stairs without bothering to say anything. They all had lingered in the Great Hall for as long as they could, not wanting to leave Fred’s body there alone. It wasn’t until people from St. Mungo’s showed up to take away the dead that Molly and Arthur suggested they all head home, and Bill and Charlie had to practically drag George away from Fred. He barely even looked at anyone as they started to apperate home, and when Y/N tried to grab his hand he shoved her off.

Y/N tried not to take it personally, obviously George is going through the hardest moment of his life, but she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Her and George are supposed to be there for each other through everything, and it makes her chest ache that in the time where he needs people the most he’s pushing her away.

“He’ll come around,” Charlie whispers, nudging Y/N’s knee with his. She finally looks away from the staircase, trying to return his warm smile. “Fred and,” he starts, pausing to clear his throat. “George is tough, probably the toughest guy I know, and I’ve seen some things in Romania. He just needs a bit of time.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” Y/N takes a sip of her tea, just needing something to distract herself. It’s still fairly hot and the liquid burns the roof of her mouth, but the uncomfortable feeling of her singed tongue is a welcome distraction from the pain in her chest, and Y/N takes another sip.

“Y/N dear, why don’t you go ahead and owl your parents? I’m sure they’re waiting to hear from you,” Molly suggests, before turning back to whatever she has cooking on the stove.

Y/N rests her mug back on the table and plays with the sleeves of her jumper, trying to fight the tears that threaten to spill over her cheeks. “They’re um. They died actually. About three months ago now I think.” The kitchen goes still, and Y/N drops her gaze to the table as everyone turns to look at her. “They wouldn’t let me move them to a safe house, they kept going on about how they weren’t afraid of Voldemort, that they weren’t going to let him force them out of their house. But when death eaters come knocking you either join or die, so.”

Her parents may have refused to be moved to a safe house, but they allowed Y/N to set up an undetectable communication system, so they could at least keep in touch. When her parents went more than eight hours without responding to her last message Y/N started to freak out, and she convinced Remus to go with her to check on them. They were sitting on the couch as if they had simply fallen asleep together, but Y/N could tell something much sinister had happened. She managed to find their house elf Marjorie hiding in the garden shed, and she told Y/N everything that had happened. How people in masks had shown up and when her parents refused to leave with them jets of green light came from their wands. Y/N ended up being called away on a mission, and her parents were buried in the small cemetery at the end of their road, with no one in attendance but the grave digger.

Y/N can feel arms wrap around her, and she presses her face into Ginny’s neck finally letting herself cry. There wasn’t proper time for her to mourn her parents, not in the middle of the war, and as Ginny squeezes her tight Y/N finally lets the emotions that have been building inside of her for the past three months spill out. “They were my only family. And now they’re just gone and I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Ginny coos quietly, rubbing her back. “We’re your family too.”

George barely gets out of bed for days. The only times he moves are to shuffle to the loo or when Y/N or Molly is forcing him to drink water or eat something. His eyes are blank, lifeless and Y/N hasn’t heard him speak since the battle. He doesn’t even make sounds when he cries anymore, the tears just run down his face as he takes shaky breaths.

And as much as it pains Y/N to see George like this, pains them all to see him like this they just let him be. Of course, they all feel Fred’s death. But no one, not even Y/N can fathom what Fred’s death feels like to George. So they let him lay in Fred’s old bed, stopping in to check on him periodically throughout the day and talk to him even though he never talks back. And every night before she crawls into George’s old bed Y/N is sure to kiss George on the top of his head and whisper how much she loves him before going to sleep alone.

The first day they actually force him out of bed is the day of Fred’s funeral. Bill and Charlie pick him up under the armpits and deposit him in the bathroom where Y/N is waiting, situating him in the empty tub. Y/N gives them both an appreciative smile before they leave, and as soon as the door is shut tight behind them she turns to George.

“Gotta get you undressed, okay bub?” she asks softly, kneeling down next to the tub. George keeps his eyes facing forward but gives a little nod, and Y/N takes it as her cue to get him undressed. Once she’s gotten rid of his clothes Y/N lets the tub start to fill up with water, and she runs her hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp as they wait for it to finish.

Y/N washes George quickly, just talking to him about whatever things come to mind. At one-point George reaches up and cups her cheek and Y/N can’t help but lean into his touch. It’s the first contact he’s initiated since they left Hogwarts, and it makes butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Once George is clean Y/N drains the tub and uses a spell to dry George off before pulling a fresh pair of boxers up his legs. “Your suits in your room. Do you want me to get Bill and Charlie or will you be okay going on your own with me?”

All George does is make a noise in the back of his throat, but he starts to stand up then, so Y/N lets him move, following behind him back into his and Fred’s old room. Molly is standing in the hallway, and she and Y/N share a hopeful look before they disappear into the room. This is the most life George has had in him since Fred’s death, and Y/N hopes this means they’re on the road to recovery.

“I got you a new suit,” Y/N tells him as he takes a seat on his bed and she heads over to the wardrobe to grab it from where it’s hanging. Her and Molly had gone to the flat above Wheezes the day before to grab some things for the both of them, but the main thing they needed was something for George to wear. The only formal clothes he has at the Burrow are the dress robes he wore to the Yule Ball, so they needed to get him something.

But as they examined George’s closet they mostly found t-shirts and sweaters, nothing proper for him to wear at a funeral. Turns out the only suits George owns are the few he rotates between for work, and when Molly had reached in to grab one Y/N put her hand out to stop her. Because all of those suits have a matching one hanging in Fred’s closet across the hall. And even though George isn’t ready to jump back into work Y/N knows that he will be, someday. And she doesn’t want any one of these suits to be tainted with the memories of Fred’s funeral. Not when they already hold so many happy memories. Memories of the first day the store was open, of all their late nights brainstorming new products or dealing with paperwork. Y/N had seen George at his happiest while wearing those suits, had watched him and Fred share mischievous smiles as their dreams became a reality. Someday George will step into one of those suits again, and Y/N doesn’t want the first thing he thinks about to be Fred’s funeral.

She gets George dressed quickly, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead once it’s done. “I love you, George. And I know you love me too, even if you can’t say it right now, okay? I’m here for you always. No matter what.” Y/N goes over to the desk in the corner and grabs the teapot pin she bought for George all those years ago. It feels thin and flimsy in her hand, and she almost feels silly as she pins it to his jacket. Like she’s still that eager teenager, shopping in London with her Mum for the perfect gift to give the boy of her dreams that she loves with her whole heart. But it’s their promise of forever, and Y/N thinks George needs that now more than ever.

Fred’s funeral is packed, which is a surprise to no one. Fred was magnetic and left an impression on everyone he ever came in contact with. Y/N stays by George’s side, greeting everyone that comes to talk with them. Most of their classmates show up and Y/N even recognizes a few regulars from the joke shop. Even Professor Slughorn shows up, despite the fact that he never taught Fred, and Y/N is pretty sure she catches McGonagall wiping away a few tears out of the corner of her eye.

Andromeda comes through with baby Teddy in her arms, and even George cracks the faintest of smiles when the sparse hair on his head turns bright orange. The only time Y/N leaves George’s side is when Lee shows up and she goes to stand with Ginny and Harry who are comforting a teary-eyed Oliver Wood so that the two friends can have a moment alone. George doesn’t say anything, but when Lee goes to sit down George has tears running down his cheeks and Y/N goes back to his side so she can wipe them away.

Ginny ends up being the one to give the Eulogy. Both Bill and Charlie had tried, but every time they sat down to write something they just couldn’t get the words out. Percy had declined his dad’s offer, still too unsure of his place in the family and still too busy blaming himself to feel comfortable enough to talk about how much Fred meant to him. George had been the obvious choice, but he can’t even talk about the weather, and no one wanted to pressure him into doing something he wasn’t ready for. Ron had actually managed to write out a beautiful tribute with the help of Hermione, but two words in he got so emotional he started hyperventilating.

So, it fell onto Ginny’s shoulders to be the one to give the tribute to Fred. Y/N watches Ginny’s knees shake as she stands in front of her brother’s casket, her eyes never once straying to the cards in her hands. Her voice is clear and strong as she tells the story about the first prank she’d ever helped Fred and George pull off, but the tears streaming down her face glisten in the sunlight. Both Fred and George always held a soft spot for their younger sister, so as she stands up there and talks about how much she loved Fred it only seems right that Ginny be the one to say the final goodbye to him.

As Fred’s casket lowers into the ground everyone stands up, holding their wands high as they cast a bright white light into the sky. Y/N slips her hand into George’s, giving his fingers a tight squeeze as they give their final tribute to Fred. Ron waves his wand so a few whizbangs he and Harry had set up can go off. They had found them in Fred and George’s room so of course as they erupt into the sky the colors burst into a few different explicit words.

Everyone, even George, manages to laugh and it feels like the perfect way to send off Fred, the guy who dedicated his life to making people laugh and who died with his final smile still etched on his face.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer?” Molly asks, placing her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “It’s not a bother at all having you two here. It’s nice, to have the house a bit full again.”

Y/N nods, sparing a glance over her shoulder at George. He’s sitting on the arm of the sofa, listening to Ron chatter on about who knows what. It’s nearly June now, and while things with George have been progressing slowly, Y/N is optimistic that they’ll only get better as time goes on. He gets out of bed for short stretches of time now, and when you talk with him he actually seems like he’s listening. He’s said a few quiet things to both Molly and Y/N, but when the whole family is around he tends to just sit there and let everyone else do the talking for him.

Things have started to get back to somewhat normal for everyone, and Y/N decided it was time for her and George to do the same. Bill and Fleur are back at shell cottage, working hard to get Gringotts back in working order, and Charlie finally went back to Romania last week. Arthur and Percy will be back at the ministry next week, and even Harry and Ron will be joining them for their Auror training.

George isn’t ready to reopen the shop yet, but Y/N figures just being back in the flat will help him continue to heal. “I think some normalcy will help George. Get him in a routine, back to living his everyday life. We’ll be back plenty, but I think it’s time we go home.”

“My boy is in good hands with you, Y/N, that’s for sure.” Molly leans in and presses a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “And you’ll owl? If anything happens?”

“Of course, Molly.” Y/N gives Molly a final smile before turning back to look at George. “You ready to go home, love?”

George nods and doesn’t say anything, but the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. He takes the hand that Y/N offers him, holding it loosely in his own. He still isn’t as physically affectionate as before, but Y/N is sure that with time everything will go back to how it was before.

“Are you going to get out of bed today?” Y/N asks, unable to stop the annoyance that creeps into her tone.

It’s nearly October now, and things with George have only seemed to stay the same, if not worse. Some days he gets out of bed and hangs out on the couch, flipping through muggle tv stations for hours on end, holding small conversations with Y/N when he feels up to it. Other days he lays in bed all day, or sometimes for days, his lips shut tight and him barely eating. Firewhiskey seems to be the main component of his diet and Y/N has no idea how he keeps getting more of it after she pours it down the drain, since he never leaves the house.

Everyone has been coddling George, and while Y/N can’t even imagine the pain George has been going through, she’s nearly reached the end of her rope. She’s brought in several different Wizard therapists to try and get George to open up, but each one just ended up leaving the flat after a frustrated hour of George not saying anything. She just wants to figure out some way to help him, and he’s been completely unresponsive in the whole thing.

“Maybe,” George mumbles, rolling onto his other side.

Y/N can hear the unmistakable sound of a Firewhiskey bottle opening and she flips the light on as she enters their room, heading over to George. “Where the hell do you keep getting this crap? Give me the bottle, George.”

George makes eye contact with Y/N as he takes a swig from the bottle, draining quite a bit of the amber liquid. It’s the only thing that has managed to make him feel something in the months since Fred’s death and he doesn’t care how much it bothers Y/N. “Last I checked you weren’t the boss of me,” George responds flatly before taking another drink.

The rude attitude is something new too. Along with his lack of physical affection, some days when George finds the energy to talk his tone is always crass. He’s never said anything horribly mean, but the way he says things never fails to cut Y/N deeply.

“I’m just trying to help you, George,” Y/N reminds him, softening her tone.

George scoffs and tosses the now empty bottle onto the floor. “Well no one asked you to.”

“Because that’s what you do when you love someone, George. You’re there for them no matter what.” Y/N waits for George to say something, and when he doesn’t she lets out a soft sigh. “I’m worried about you, Georgie. You barely get out of bed anymore, you’re not eating. I can’t even imagine the pain you’ve gone through these months. But it’s been nearly six months, love. And Fred wouldn’t want-.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about him like you knew him. You and Fred had one civil conversation over a year ago. You have no idea what Fred wanted,” George says harshly, cutting Y/N off.

Y/N can feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she takes a deep breath to try and calm down. She knows this isn’t George talking, it’s the alcohol and the grief, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I get your upset George, I lost people I cared about too. But I don’t get all this anger. Why are you so mad at me? Is it something I said? Something I did? Just talk to me George, please.”

“You want me to talk? Fine, I’ll talk.” George sits up and crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes narrow as he looks at Y/N. “It’s all your fault, he’s dead because of you. I should have been with Fred. I could have cast a protective spell or pulled him out of the way. And he’d still be here. But I wasn’t with him. You know why? I was faffing about the castle looking for you, saving you. When I should have been with Fred.”

Y/N can feel hot tears running down her cheeks, and her fingers shake as she reaches up to wipe them away. “What are you saying, George? That you regret trying to find me? That you regret saving me? That you would go back and let Adrian kill me so you could save Fred?” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat. “You wish it had been me who died, don’t you?”

George doesn’t say anything, but it’s answer enough for Y/N. “Fuck you, George. I’ve spent the past five months of my life giving you my everything. Trying to help you, trying to make you feel better. And you’ve been what? Laying there wishing it had been me instead of Fred?” Y/N can feel her heart shattering as George just continues to look at her, the same cold expression on his face as before. “Well I’m done. With helping you, with coddling you. With everything.”

She can feel the necklace George gave her pressing against her skin, and while it’s normally a comforting feeling, now it feels as if it’s burning her skin and she reaches up, tearing it from around her throat. It’s the first time she’s taken it off since George gave it to her and as she looks at it in her hand Y/N wants to put it right back on. But instead she throws it at George. It lands on his legs, and they both just stare at it for a moment.

“Take your promise of forever and shove it up your ass, George. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, more than I’ve ever loved myself. But clearly you don’t feel the same way and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life pretending that it doesn’t kill me inside that you don’t love me the same way I love you.”

Without another word Y/N storms out of their bedroom and out of the flat, unsure of where she’s going to go next.

“You look dreadful,” Percy says honestly when George opens the door. His eyes are red with dark circles underneath, his hair is a mess and the pajamas he’s wearing are wrinkled and creased from him tossing and turning in his sleep.

Y/N had sent an owl to the Burrow after she ended things with George, and Percy had been the one to volunteer to visit George to try and talk to him. He gave him a few days to think about things before deciding to come and see him after work one day. The war took enough from George, and Percy couldn’t sit back and let George destroy one of the last good things in his life.

“What do you want?” George asks flatly, shuffling over towards the couch. He’s felt sick to his stomach since the moment Y/N walked away from him. He was angry and kind of drunk and sad when they fought, and George hadn’t meant a word of what he said to her. But he needed a way to get her to leave. Because George doesn’t know when he’ll ever feel normal again, when he’ll be able to love her properly again, and watching her throw her life away to help him fight a losing battle was getting to be too much.

It started two weeks ago, on one of his good days. He woke up in the morning feeling like himself, feeling like he did before the battle of Hogwarts. George had finally had a dream, not a nightmare or darkness in his eyelids while he slept. It was an actual dream, and when he opened his eyes in the morning the images of him running around a backyard with a redheaded toddler on his shoulders were still fresh in his mind.

And when he made it out into the kitchen where Y/N was making breakfast, she looked gorgeous and the smile on her face when George greeted her was bright enough to light up the world. He finally felt like things were going to be okay. He didn’t feel haunted by the closed bedroom door down the hall. George felt like he was ready, ready to get his shit back together and give Y/N everything he’d ever promised her.

But then he found it in the trash. A letter from the head Healer at St. Mungo’s. She was inviting Y/N to come back into the Healer program, to finish the training she started before the war. All she had to do was send a letter back confirming her reenrollment. But judging by the fact that she hadn’t mentioned anything, and the letter was in the trash, George figured Y/N wasn’t going to reenroll. It killed him that she was giving up on her dream to stay there with him--he was having a good day, but George knew that tomorrow, he could wake up and be right back to struggling to get out of bed. Y/N wanted to be a healer long before George occupied any of her thoughts, and he couldn’t let her throw that away.

So that day, he decided it was best if he let her go. Y/N had given up a lot for George already. His insecurities back at Hogwarts led her away from her best friends, his grief stopped her from dealing with the loss of people she cared about, and now, his inability to get his shit together was going to stop her from fulfilling her dream--the dream that made George start to fall in love with her in the first place. He couldn’t let her give up more of her life than she already had.

When Y/N tried to talk to him that day, he let whatever vile words he could think of spill out of his mouth. Seeing her so hurt, so broken, crushed whatever part of his soul was left, and he couldn’t let her keep living that way. But seeing her tear that necklace off broke something inside of George. He finally felt something other than numbness, and it was complete and utter pain. It felt like his heart was torn from his chest when Y/N slammed the door behind her, and even though George knew not being with him is what’s best for Y/N, his heart still beats for her and he’s sure it always will.

Percy sighs and follows George over to the couch. “What’s going on with you, George? You’re not acting like yourself.”

“I wonder why,” George responds, watching Percy sink into one of their armchairs. It’s weird, seeing him here. Percy barely wanted to enter Fred and George’s bedroom when they lived at home together, so he knows something must really be bothering him if he decided to come to the flat to see George.

“This isn’t about Fred,” Percy starts, holding up his hand to keep George from responding. “I’m not saying that you’re not still upset about him or that your grief isn’t valid. I’m talking about Y/N. She owled Mum about what you said. And while I imagine you’re still very hurt, we all are, I know you would never say anything like that to her. I’m not going to pretend that I know what your relationship with her was like, but I know you, George. And I saw the way she took care of you after what happened. So I know there’s no way you could have meant those things you said to her.”

“I’m not good enough for her anymore,” George says suddenly after a few minutes of silence. “I’m broken, damaged goods. And Y/N deserves the world. She was wasting her life sitting here and taking care of me. I couldn’t let her do that anymore.”

“George you’re not broken, or damaged. You’re healing, there’s a difference. And keeping all of this in is certainly not helping.” Percy sits back and just watches George for a moment. “We talked, down in the kitchen that first night after the battle, Y/N and I. I couldn’t sleep and she came down for some water. We were talking, and I asked her what changed, how she went from hating your guts to looking at you like you’re the only person in the world. Do you wanna know what she said to me?”

When George just shrugs Percy leans forward so he can look at George better. “She told me about the night in detention. About how you guys had an actual conversation for once. And that you made her feel like someone was actually listening to her. That you validated her dreams and made her feel like they were attainable. Y/N said that she told you stuff she never even told her closest friends, because just being around you made her feel safe, like she could be vulnerable around you.”

George thinks about that first night in detention often. After that night, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. He even remembers having a dream about how nice her hair smelled, and how good it would have felt to run his fingers through it. He thinks about that night in the broom closet too, hiding from McGonagall; he’d wanted to kiss her so badly, being so close to her made his knees shaky and his chest tight. George had planned on kissing Y/N that night when he dropped her off at the Slytherin common room, until Umbridge had run into them. When they finally had their first kiss a few nights later in that secret passageway, George knew that from that moment on, he couldn’t live without Y/N.

“Why are you telling me this? It doesn’t matter now.”

Percy sighs. “I’m telling you this because you need to know that it’s okay to be vulnerable with Y/N. Keeping all of this in is only hurting the both of you, George. She very clearly loves you, and I know you must love her too if you’re willing to be miserable for the rest of your life to make her happy. But you can both be happy, George. Happy together. You just need to, and pardon my language, take your head out of your ass.”

George chuckles at that. “Wow, Perc, you must be serious, I’ve never heard you say anything so lewd.”

“Yeah well I slacked on my big brother duties for a few years, I figured it’s time to make up for it.” Percy pauses, pursing his lips. “Y/N’s staying at her parent’s house, getting it all cleaned out. Think about what you’re gonna say and then go over and apologize to her. You deserve to be happy, George. Fred would want you to be happy.”

It takes a few days and a visit from his Mum to get his haircut, but George gets his shit together so he can go and talk to Y/N. He spent quite a long time trying to figure out what to say to her, and while it’s not exactly perfect it’s what George feels and that’s what matters to him. Because there’s no doubt in his mind that Y/N is the only person he wants to be with for the rest of his life, and he shouldn’t let his inability to express his thoughts get in the way of that. They’ve already been down that road together before, and George vowed to spend forever with Y/N and he still plans on making good on those promises.

He pushes the front door right open, letting the noise of Y/N muttering to herself as she shuffles things around lead him to where she is. He finds Y/N digging through the drawers of the dresser in her childhood bedroom. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt that George thinks used to be in his closet and her hair is tied up on her head. George can feel his legs shaking as he leans up against the doorway, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Hey, teacup.”

Y/N jumps at the sound of George’s voice and she spins to face the door, her hand clutching her chest. “For Merlin’s sake, George. You scared the shit out of me.” She can feel her heart racing in her chest, and it’s not from the fright George just gave her. He looks good, like his normal self and it feels like she’s seeing him for the first time. Molly has definitely cut his hair recently, and even though he’s still in comfy clothes the Gryffindor t-shirt and sweatpants he’s wearing are uncreased and look like they’ve been washed recently.

“Sorry, love, thought you heard me when I came in.” George bites his lip, fiddling with his thumbs. “You doing okay?”

Y/N shrugs, looking down at the floor. George is the last person she expected to show up here, and she’s not sure how she feels about it. He’s been on her mind since the moment she walked out the door of their flat last week, and the last words he spoke to her have been running on a constant loop in the back of her mind. She’s still so angry and hurt over what he said, but Y/N would be lying if she said every cell in her body isn’t screaming at her to just go up and hug him.

“I’ve been doing better, than before,” George continues when she doesn’t say anything. “Percy came to talk to me a few days ago, made me realize what an ass I was. Though I must say he was much nicer than Ginny was when she did the same thing a few years ago.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, and his stomach flips when Y/N looks back up at him with a small smile. “I owe you probably the biggest apology I’ll ever give in my entire life and I’d love to give it to you if you’d let me.”

It reminds Y/N of that day on the train when their only problems were jealousy and what house table they should eat dinner at. Y/N instinctively reaches up to grab the charms of her necklace, her hand faltering when all she meets is the cloth of her shirt. It’s something she’s done several times in the days it’s been since she ripped the piece of jewelry off, usually when she was missing George and wanted to feel like a piece of him was still nearby.

“I guess that’s something I could do,” she says quietly, going to take a seat on the edge of her bed. She pats the spot next to her, encouraging George to come sit. His hands are shaking as he comes and sits down, and it takes all of Y/N’s restraint to not reach out and grab one of them.

“I lied to you. I don’t blame you, for what happened to Fred. And I don’t regret anything I did that night. If it had been you who died instead of Fred I don’t think I would have been able to carry on with my life. Because Y/N you are quite literally the only reason why I wake up every morning, you’re the reason why I have the energy to get out of bed somedays, and the reason why I feel okay when I don’t. Falling in love with you, being with you has been the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

George reaches up to wipe away a few of the tears Y/N has started to shed, his fingers trembling as they softly press against her cheek. “And even though I haven’t been the best person to be around lately, you’ve been by my side through everything. You’ve been so patient and understanding, way more than I deserve. You put your life on hold to help me, and I’ve been rejecting all of your efforts. I don’t know how to do all of this. How to grieve and handle my emotions. Talk about my emotions. And instead of just trying I’ve been keeping them all in, letting them settle in me and get worse. I haven’t felt like myself in months, haven’t allowed myself to. And yet every day you were there, with a smile and a reassuring touch, telling me how much you love me. I started to feel guilty, so overwhelmingly so it felt like my chest was going to cave in. Because there you were, putting your life on hold, giving up your dream to try and help me and I couldn’t even manage to tell you how much I love and appreciate you.”

Y/N reaches up and wipes away a few of George’s tears this time, letting her fingers gently caress his cheek. “George I didn’t mind, doing all of that for you. That’s what you do when you love someone. You make sacrifices, change your plans. I would give up everything to be there for you.”

“That’s why I said all of those things to you, Y/N. Pushed you away, forced you to leave. Because I don’t want you to give up everything to be with me.” George cups Y/N’s cheek gently so he can look her in the eyes. “You deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted in life, and you deserve to have a partner that can be there for you. That can support you fully in everything you do. And I didn’t think I could be that person for you.”

“Didn’t think you could be? Or don’t think you could be?” Y/N asks through her sniffles.

“Didn’t,” George confirms, his voice serious. “Because living without you, even for a few moments was the most intense pain I have ever felt. And even though I don’t know when I’ll feel completely back to normal there are a few things I do know. I know that I love you. And I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know I want to support you and be there for you in everything you do. And I know that I want to try and be better for you. And for me. Most importantly I know that I want you, forever. I want all those things I promised you, the stupid diamond and the wedding and the seven ginger babies. I know that I actually want to live my life, not just watch it pass me by. And the only person I want to do that with is you.”

George pauses to dig around in the pocket of his sweatpants, and a moment later he pulls out Y/N’s necklace. Except this time along with the teapot and G charm, there’s a simple diamond ring hanging from the chain. “So I am so, so sorry for treating you the way I have, the way I did. And teacup, if you’ll let me, I promise to cherish you and support you and love you forever.”

It’s not the way Y/N ever imagined this moment would take place, but as she surges forward to kiss George properly for the first time in months, it feels absolutely perfect. She knows that they have a long road of healing and mending ahead and that their lives will probably never be the way they imagined them. But none of that matters. All Y/N needs and has ever needed is George. “Of course, George. There is no one else I want to spend forever with.”

George lets Y/N pull him into another kiss as he fumbles with the necklace, trying to get the ring off so he can slip it onto her finger. She starts to kiss down his neck, and George lets out a soft moan as he finally gets the ring in his hand. “Hang on teacup, wait a minute.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Y/N mumbles as she pulls away, her cheeks flushed pink. “It’s fine if you’re not ready to we can wait for as long as you want I just figured that-.”

George cuts her off with a laugh. “Oh no that’s not what I meant, Y/N. I am more than ready to be with you like that again. I just wanna put your ring and your necklace on first.”

“Oh right I kinda forgot about that,” Y/N says with a giggle, holding her left hand out for George. Between the war and George’s grief they haven’t been intimate in well over a year now, and Y/N’s fingers stopped being sufficient long ago so in her haste to get George into bed she completely forgot about the ring.

“You can’t not have your ring on the first time we do it as an engaged couple,” George teases as he slides the ring down her finger. The diamond glistens in the sunlight streaming in through the window and to George it looks as if the ring was made to be on Y/N’s finger.

Y/N examines the ring up close for the first time as she turns around so George can clasp her necklace back around her neck. It’s simple, but gorgeous and everything she’s ever wanted in an engagement ring. George finally gets the clasp of the necklace closed and Y/N shivers as the cool metal settles against her skin. A moment later George’s warm mouth is pressing kisses into her skin and she lets out a quiet noise.

“I missed you so much,” George murmurs as he turns Y/N back around, kissing her softly. He starts to slowly lay her back against the pillows as their mouths move together, crawling on top of her. “You did such a good job taking care of me, teacup. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

George helps Y/N out of her top before he starts to slowly kiss down her neck, his hands slowly rubbing up and down her sides. It’s been far too long since he showed Y/N just how much he loves and appreciates her, and he plans on making up for it now. He moves his lips down her chest, taking one of her nipples between his lips. The tip of his tongue flicks at the sensitive bud for a moment before he sucks on it gently.

“Oh, George,” Y/N moans, tangling one of her hands in his hair. She tugs on it lightly as her hips move off of the bed to grind up against George’s. She can already feel her arousal pooling in her panties and she’s ready for more.

“God you are gorgeous,” George murmurs before capturing Y/N’s other nipple in his mouth and giving it the same treatment as the other. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles into her skin as he starts to kiss down her stomach. “You are perfect in every way, Y/N.”

“I love you,” Y/N tells George quietly as he gets rid of her bottoms, lifting her hips up to help him. She shivers as she rests back against the bed, completely bare for him. His gentle touch on her knees makes goosebumps rise on her skin, and she lets out a whine as he spreads her legs open.

“I love you too, teacup. So much. More than anything in the world.” George starts to kiss Y/N’s inner thigh, leading a trail up to her dripping cunt. He pauses to suck a mark onto the inner most part of her thigh, just a few centimeters away from where she needs him most. George brings two fingers to her cunt, spreading her wetness around as he rubs through her folds.

Y/N’s hips grind down against George’s gentle touch, and she tugs on George’s hair when he chuckles. “Please, George. I need you.”

George slips two fingers into Y/N’s cunt as his lips attach to her clit, moaning against her when walls clench around his digits. He sucks on her clit gently, slowly moving his fingers in her, curling them with every push back into her entrance.

“Oh yes, Georgie, fuck. Feels so good,” Y/N groans, her hips starting to grind down against George’s face and hands. She spreads her legs even wider, whining when the fingers of George’s free hand dig into her thigh.

“Such a good girl for me, teacup,” he praises, pressing a wet kiss to her clit. He starts to move his fingers faster, scissoring his fingers to help stretch her and get her ready for his cock. “Making such pretty noises for me, just like you always do.”

Y/N lets out a low moan as George reattaches his mouth to her clit, bringing her free hand up to pinch at her nipples. She can already feel the familiar heat of an orgasm building in her stomach, and her toes curl as George’s tongue starts to trace patterns over her clit. “Love being your good girl, George. Always wanna be your good girl.”

George hums as he sucks Y/N’s clit harder, fucking his fingers back into her cunt harder. Her walls are clenching and twitching around him, and George has to grind his hips against the bed to get some relief on his aching cock.

“So close George, fuck,” Y/N moans, her toes curling as George’s fingers brush her g-spot once again. She can feel shocks of pleasure radiating through her cunt as her orgasm approaches, and she starts to move her hips sloppily, chasing her climax. “Can I cum? Please Georgie, wanna cum. Wanna be a good girl,” she babbles, tugging on George’s hair.

George takes his mouth away from her cunt and starts to rub harsh circles on Y/N’s clit. “Go on, darling. Want you to be a good girl and cum for me.”

With a few more pumps of George’s fingers Y/N is cumming, her thighs trembling as pleasure washes over her in waves. She can see stars behind her eyes, and she doesn’t even realize that she’s moaning loudly until George is kissing her and the room gets infinitely quieter.

George rubs Y/N’s hips soothingly as she comes down from her high, his lips gently pressing to her neck in a series of slow kisses. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you sound when you’re moaning like that for me?” he asks, pulling away so he can look into Y/N’s eyes.

“I could wager a guess,” Y/N responds playfully, pulling George down into a kiss. She slowly starts to sit up as George deepens their kiss, letting out a moan against his mouth. Y/N trails one of her hands down George’s chest to his crotch, palming his erection through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Is this another present in your pants for me?” she teases, nipping at George’s lips.

“Why am I marrying you again?” George teases as he pulls away so he can take his t-shirt off. He gets off the bed then and starts to get rid of his bottoms, pulling them down slowly to tease Y/N.

“Georgie,” Y/N whines at his teasing, jutting her lower lip out into a pout. She gets up onto her knees and wraps one of her hands around the back of George’s neck as the other reaches down to wrap around his cock. Y/N pulls George down into a hot kiss as she starts to stroke him, her thumb swirling around the tip to collect the precum dribbling out, helping her hand to glide easier.

George kicks his bottoms off as Y/N strokes him, moaning into her mouth. “Godric I missed this. Missed you, teacup. I can’t believe I get to have you for the rest of my life.” He crawls back onto the bed as he kisses Y/N again, sitting down with his back against the headboard. His hands settle on Y/N’s hips and he pulls her so that she’s straddling his waist. “You gonna show me how much you missed me too?”

Y/N reaches behind her to grip George’s cock and she lets out a whine as she teases her slit with the tip. She lets George pull her into another kiss as she starts to slowly sink down, but it falls apart as her hips move and her mouth drops open to let out a few pants. “So fucking full,” she groans as their thighs meet, her hips rocking slightly now that George is fully inside of her.

“Fuck your cunt is tight,” George moans, digging his fingers into Y/N’s hips. Her walls are pulsating around him and he can’t help but jut his hips upwards. Being buried inside of Y/N feels like pure ecstasy to George, and it takes all of his restraint not to just flip them over so he can fuck into her hard. “How do I feel, teacup? You like the way my cock fills you up?”

“George,” Y/N moans as she starts to rock in his lap, moving her hips in tight circles as she grinds down into him. She can feel George deep inside of her, and the way his cock brushes her g-spot with every moment causes pleasure to radiate through her core. “Feels good, so good. Missed being,” Y/N pauses to moan as George starts to help guide the movements of her hips. “Missed being full.”

George presses his face into the crook of Y/N’s neck, letting out grunts against her skin as she starts to rock against him quicker. He starts to move his own hips up into her and her walls clamp around him even tighter. “You’re incredible,” he pants, pressing a kiss to her neck. George pulls away so he can look at Y/N leaning in to kiss her briefly. “Feel so fucking good, teacup. Riding me so well, Y/N. Being such a good girl for me.”

Y/N tips her head back and moans as she starts to move faster, desperately trying to cum again. Her clit is grinding against George with every movement and the way he’s stretching her out has gone straight to her head, and Y/N’s mind is clouded with pleasure. Maybe it’s because they haven’t been intimate like this in so long or because they’re engaged now but Y/N feels complete with George inside of her and she never wants it to end as she grinds down against him harder.

“Please George, please,” she begs breathily, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

“What do you want teacup?” George asks as he stats to thrust his hips up harder. Her walls twitch with every movement and he can already feel himself getting close to his release. “Whatever you want it’s yours.”

Y/N tilts her head forward so she can rest their foreheads together. She looks into George’s eyes and a shiver runs down her spine at how dark they are. “Just want you, Georgie. Please.”

George kisses Y/N desperately as he flips them over, pressing Y/N down into the mattress as he starts to slam his hips into her hard. “You’ve got me,” George promises as he brings one of his hands down to her core, starting to rub harsh circles on her clit. He braces himself on a hand above her shoulder and presses their foreheads together again so he can look into her eyes. “Forever, Y/N. I mean it this time. Forever.”

“Oh fuck, George,” Y/N moans as she cums, her legs winding around George’s hips to keep him in place, fucking her deep. Electric shocks of pleasure radiate through her body and her chest starts to heave with deep breaths as the pleasure washes over her.

Y/N’s walls tightening and pulsating around him pushes George over the edge, and he cums too, a cry of her name leaving his lips. He kisses her messily as his cock twitches inside of her, his hips slowly rolling to help them both of them through the tail ends of their orgasms.

“No,” Y/N whines when George moves to pull out, her legs tightening around his waist. “Not yet, George. Wanna be full with you for a bit longer.”

George chuckles and presses a kiss to Y/N’s sweaty forehead, carefully turning them on their sides so they can lay somewhat comfortably, his cock still buried deep inside of her. “Of course, teacup. Anything for you.”

“Forever, yeah?” she murmurs, clenching her walls around George.

He reaches a hand between them and presses the charms of Y/N’s necklace into her skin. “Forever.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, did you know that Mrs. Weasley?” George asks with a dopey grin as he twirls Y/N around in a circle.

They decided to keep their wedding small. Partially to distract from the fact that Y/N really has no friends or family to invite. But mostly because they don’t need all the theatrics. It’s the middle of June, and the backyard of the Burrow is draped in twinkling lights, making the warm air seem as if it’s glowing as everyone talks or eats or dances. George had suggested they get married as quick as humanly possible. He even tried to convince Y/N that they should just get a marriage license from the ministry and get married right in Shacklebolt’s office before they even had the chance to tell anyone they were engaged.

But Y/N insisted that they have some sort of ceremony with their family. June seemed like the perfect opportunity, since both Ginny and Hermione would be done with school and Fleur would have already given birth to the first Weasley grandchild. Y/N also thought it would give George some more time to deal with his grief.

After he proposed George really did start doing better. He started getting out of bed every day and taking proper care of himself. Y/N encouraged him to reconnect with his family and friends, and they even started leaving the flat together at least once a week. George started seeing a wizard therapist, and as he learned how to identify and deal with his emotions, Y/N watched the light slowly come back to his eyes. By Christmas he was back to joking around again, and he even charmed some mistletoe so that the people who met underneath it wouldn’t be able to move unless they kissed.

In the new year Y/N reenrolled in her Healer training program, and while being by himself again gave George a bit of anxiety, he packed a lunch for her and sent her off with a kiss on the cheek and a smile. And it worked out in the end, because George found himself so stir crazy without Y/N around that he managed to go back down in the joke shop. Y/N ended up finding him sitting in the office when she got home, some of Fred’s old notes clutched in his hand while he cried. She was worried that he would start to move backwards, but when George noticed her presence he opened up to her about how he was feeling instead of pushing her away. He managed to make the trek back down into the shop every day after that and now Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes will be back open for business on July first.

“You’re only saying that because it’s our wedding day, Georgie,” Y/N teases, titling her chin up so he’ll kiss her. George presses their lips together briefly and Y/N rests her head on his shoulder, watching Arthur twirl Molly around on the other side of the dancefloor.

George presses a kiss to the top of Y/N’s forehead before resting his cheek there. “You think that’ll be us in thirty years? Dancing like fools at our kids wedding?”

“I hope so. I reckon we’ll be those proper embarrassing parents, like the kinds who’s kids hate going out with them in public,” Y/N muses with a laugh.

“You mean like your parents?” George asks softly, pulling Y/N into his chest tighter. “Your cheeks were so red the first time I met them I thought you were gonna turn into a tomato.”

Y/N turns her face into George’s chest to hide the pink flush of her cheeks as the memory of George meeting her parents for the first time comes flooding back to the forefront of her mind.

“Not another one Mum, please,” Y/N begs before picking up a pillow off of the sofa and shoving her face into it to hide her embarrassment. All her mother does is grin as she comes back into the living room with another album full of pictures from Y/N’s childhood.

It’s easter break for Y/N, and it’s only been a few weeks since George and Fred had their grand exit from Hogwarts. While George has been busy getting ready for the joke shop’s grand opening, he agreed to come to dinner at Y/N’s house so he could finally meet her parents. He was a little nervous leading up to it, unsure of how Y/N’s parents would take to the fact that their daughter is dating a poor blood traitor who’s a recent school dropout, but the second he walked through the door all his worries washed away.

Y/N’s family manor is large, but yet somehow still feels like home. It’s bright and warm and feels lived in. Y/N’s mother had hugged him tightly as soon as he stepped through the door, and her dad playfully fell to his knees to bow down to George, making a joke about how gracious he was that someone fell in love with his smart ass daughter so he wouldn’t have to deal with her for the rest of his life. Y/N was standing just behind him looking as if she wanted the world to just open up and swallow her whole, but George found it hilarious and gave her dad a curtsey in response, telling him that her smart mouth would greatly reduce the dowry he’d be willing to pay.

Even Marjorie their house elf had teased Y/N a bit as she brought them all drinks in the parlor. She said something about how the photo Y/N keeps of George under her pillow certainly did not do him justice as he’s much more handsome in person and Y/N’s cheeks went so red it was as if she had spent hours outside in the cold. They had only been sitting down for a few minutes when the first photo album came out, and now George is about to start flicking through the fifth.

George laughs as he takes the book from Y/N’s Mum, trading her for the one he just finished flipping through. “Oh, come on, love. It’s only fair. Ginny tells you embarrassing stories about me all the time.”

“Yeah, pumpkin. It could be worse, I could have Marjorie go dig the old Muggle video player out and we could pop some of the home movies into it,” her Dad teases.

Y/N groans at that and she puts the pillow down so she can glare at her father. “Fine, fine, the photos can stay.” She leans her head against George’s shoulder as he starts to flip through the book, and she just barely sees her Mum bring the camera out from behind her back before she’s taking a picture. “Mum! We talked about this, you promised no photos!”

“Oh, come on, one photo never hurt anybody. You’ll be thankful I took this photo someday when you’re old and fondly reminiscing about your youth to your grandkids,” Y/N’s mother says, putting the camera down. “And it’ll be a nice visual aid when I tell the story about how embarrassed we made you tonight at your wedding.”

“Can we not with the wedding talk? George and I are barely eighteen.” Y/N hides her face in George’s neck, her cheeks heating up even further when George chuckles and turns his head so he can kiss her on the temple. Both of her parents let out an aw, and she picks up the nearest pillow to throw at them.

George laughs as Y/N faceplants onto her bed later that night. They’ve just finished dinner with her parents, and Y/N snuck them upstairs when her Mum went to go find another old photo album. “You regretting asking me to come to dinner?” he asks, sitting down next to Y/N.

She turns her head so she can glare at George, but it quickly turns soft when he starts to rub her lower back. “They promised me they’d be on their best behavior. Clearly they lied.”

“It’s cute, that they embarrass you or whatever. Clearly they love you a lot,” George responds softly, giving her a reassuring smile. “How much of our wedding do you think your Mum has planned?” he teases with a chuckle.

“Don’t joke about that, George. Knowing her the answer is probably the whole thing,” Y/N answers with a giggle. She rolls over onto her back so she can look up at George, letting one of her hands reach up to run through his hair. “I hope they didn’t scare you away with all of their baby photos.”

“Darling if Daphne Greengrass’ iciest glare doesn’t scare me a few photos of you with some missing teeth is nothing,” George reassures her. “Your Mum even had me mark some of my favorites for her to include in the wedding slideshow when you went to the loo.”

Y/N groans and places one of her pillows over her face, before deciding to hit George with it when he laughs at her pain.

“They were quite embarrassing. Though I wish we could have seen the slide show my Mum was gonna make. Bet your Mum would have added a fair few photos of you to the mix,” Y/N points out, grinning up at George.

George leans down and presses a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “And half of them would have been of Fred I reckon, we were even harder to tell apart when we were babies.” He lets out a quiet sigh and kisses Y/N’s forehead again. “I wish he was here.”

“I know, Georgie.” Y/N squeezes George tighter for a moment, letting her eyes wander around the backyard. Ginny has a very excited Teddy Lupin on her shoulders, with both Harry and Andromeda laughing as the toddler’s face and hair changes into something new every few seconds. Bill and Fleur are in the corner trying to coax a restless Victorie to sleep and Charlie and Lee are taking shots together at one end of the bar. Percy is standing at the other end of it with Ron and Hermione, telling them a story about his new girlfriend, Audrey. “Percy did a pretty good job though, as best man. Don’t you think?”

Turns out the hardest decision in wedding planning was figuring out who the best man would be. Ginny was the natural choice for maid of honor, but it took George weeks to pick out his best man. Both Ron and Harry volunteered themselves for the role, and spent more time arguing with each other over why George should pick them rather than trying to convince George why they were the best choice. Charlie actually took himself out of the running, since he’d been Bill’s best man and didn’t want to take the opportunity away from another brother. And Lee was pretty chill about the whole thing, he was perfectly happy just to be the one in charge of the DJing.

Percy had been shocked when George asked him. Despite the fact that Percy had really tried to step back into the family after the war everyone could tell he still felt awkward. He was always the first to head home after family dinners, and the one who opted to sit on the single armchair rather than pile up with the others on one of the couches. At Christmas after he opened his Weasley sweater he excused himself to the bathroom, and they all pretended not to notice the red rims of his eyes when he came back. He always waited for someone to address him before he spoke, as if he thought no one cared about what he had to say. Most notably he always braced himself when someone brought up Fred, as if he was waiting for someone to shout at him for failing to save his brother.

But George had reassured him endlessly that he was the only person he wanted to stand up there with him while he promised Y/N forever. For one because Percy had been there for George during a time when he needed him most, and he gave George the push he needed to make things right with Y/N. George also ended up admitting later that him choosing Percy to be his best man would have annoyed Fred endlessly, and it made him feel like he was pulling one final prank on his brother.

George hums as he nods, letting go of Y/N briefly so he can twirl her around, before bringing her back against his chest. “Who knew he could be so funny? I’m pretty sure Ron nearly threw up from how hard he was laughing. It’s nice to see him be comfortable around everyone again. Feels like it did before, you know. That’s what I wanted, when I chose him. For him to feel like family again.”

“That’s actually really sweet of you, George. I’m sure Percy appreciates it,” Y/N murmurs, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Well it was either let him be the best man or name one of our kids after him, and I’m not sure I like the ring of Percy ll,” George says with a laugh.

Y/N rolls her eyes at that. “I’m revoking your naming privileges, George. You’re not allowed to name any of our eight ginger babies.”

“Eight? I thought we agreed on seven?” George asks with a soft chuckle.

“Well I decided I want eight. And a few hours ago, you stood up in front of our friends and family and promised to spend the rest of forever making me happy so it’s too late to take it all back,” Y/N states matter of factly, sticking her tongue out at George.

George shakes his head fondly and leans down to kiss Y/N slowly. “Fine, fine. Eight it is. Though we better start thinking about moving out of the flat then. Because if my height is anything to go by we’re gonna have some big babies, and I reckon we can only fit two or three of ‘em above Wheezes. And with the way you look tonight there’s no way there won’t be at least one more Weasley grandchild on the way when I’m done ravishing you.”

“How long do we have to wait?” George asks with a groan, flopping down onto the mattress.

“Three minutes. Same as when I told you before,” Y/N responds with an eye roll, throwing the empty pregnancy test box at George.

Despite George’s comments on their wedding night, it took them several months to even talk about getting pregnant. Once the joke shop reopened business was as good as ever. Even now eight months after reopening the store is still so busy that George has to sometimes eat his lunch while working the till or filling out paperwork. And once Y/N completed her Healer training she got stuck working the graveyard shift, so often the only time she and George saw each other was when one of them was coming home from work as the other was on their way to work.

Thankfully after a few months of hazing Y/N was switched to a much more reasonable shift, and she was back to spending most of her nights at home with George. It was then that they started discussing the next steps of their future, and both of them were set in the fact that they wanted to have a baby sooner rather than later. But they both decided to wait just a bit longer, until they had bought a house. Because even though they both love the flat above the joke shop, it’s just not big enough for a growing family.

Fred’s room hasn’t been touched since the Battle of Hogwarts. Y/N knows George has gone in there a few times, on the days when he misses his brother the most. But nothing has been moved or tidied up. There’re still shoes, and clothes and random papers all strewn about that George just hasn’t had the heart to get rid of. Y/N figures it helps George feel like Fred is still close by, so she doesn’t push him to clear it out. Except their bedroom in the flat was too small to have all the stuff needed for a baby, so they decided that a house would come before their family.

But as it turns out, there’s a possibility they’re happening at the same time. It took them a few months to find the right house, and with Y/N’s inheritance from her parents they were able to buy a nice piece of land out in the country with a beautiful house with enough room for the large family they both want. There’s a great little pond and a tire swing, and enough room for a Quidditch pitch too.

And Y/N had figured her missed period was due to the stress of the move. But a few days ago, she woke up from a dream covered in a cold sweat that made her start to think otherwise. Fred was there. He was in the field behind her and George’s new house running around in the warm summer sunshine, chasing after a little boy. And when the little boy finally turned to look at her, Y/N felt like she couldn’t breathe. His hair was the same color as her own, but his face was all George. The same deep brown eyes, the same light freckles dotted on the same pale skin. It was uncanny really, and when the boy finally noticed her he called her Mum and started running towards her. Just before Y/N could wrap her arms around him she woke up, her heart pounding and the image of the little boy still fresh in her mind. She decided then it was time to take a test.

“What a great way to spend the first night in our new house eh?” George asks with a nervous laugh, patting the spot on the mattress next to him.

“Certainly not the way I imagined us breaking in the new house,” Y/N responds with a laugh as she settles down on the mattress with him, the pregnancy test clutched in her hand. They barely have any furniture set up and their mattress is laying on the ground and yet they may need to start planning for a nursery.

George takes the pregnancy test from Y/N’s hand and puts it face down on the bed before he takes her face in his hands and kisses her softly. “I love you, teacup. And whether this test is positive or not I can’t wait to start our family.”

“I love you too, Georgie.” Y/N lets her eyes flutter shut as George presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, unable to stop herself from thinking about the time she and George first talked about having children.

“You still awake down there, teacup?” George whispers into the still air. He didn’t want to say anything and after falling asleep next to Y/N for the past year he’s gotten pretty good at telling if she’s asleep by the pace of her breathing. But the bandage wrapped around his right ear is making it hard to hear, and he needs to know if Y/N is still awake or not.

Y/N’s head pops up immediately and she looks over at George. “What’s wrong? Does your head hurt? It is bleeding?”

George chuckles and shakes his head, shutting his eyes when the room starts to spin. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just an idiot, give me a minute.” Once George can no longer feel his heartbeat in his temples he opens his eyes and gives Y/N a reassuring smile. “Will you stop fussing? Mum’s done enough of that for you tonight.”

“I can’t help it, George. I thought you were gonna die.” Y/N’s voice cracks as the final word of her sentence falls from her lips, and she can feel the tears welling in her eyes.

The Battle of the seven Harrys had been a shitshow from the moment they left the ground. Y/N was riding a Thestral with Ron, and from the second they took off Death Eaters were everywhere. Luckily Ron is pretty talented with his defensive spell casting, and all Y/N really had to focus on was flying them back to the Burrow safely. Which was good, because the fight she’d gotten into with George earlier in the evening was still weighing heavily on her mind.

She wasn’t even supposed to be there. The original plan had been that Y/N would stay behind at The Burrow with Ginny and Molly, that way if anyone came back injured she’d be there to help assist Molly with any healing. But then Tonks announced that she’s pregnant and Y/N made Mad Eye Moody change the plan so Y/N could take her place during the actual mission. Which George was not happy about and they left the Burrow for Privet Drive still fuming from their fight.

“Teacup,” George coos, reaching out to stroke Y/N’s cheek. “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?” he teases, trying to get her to crack a smile. “Snivellous has wanted to take me out for years I reckon, it was only a matter of time before he tried.”

Y/N turns her head so she can kiss George’s palm lightly. “That’s not funny, George. You really could have died.”

“And you could have as well, Y/N,” George reminds her.

“Better me than Tonks,” Y/N mumbles, looking down at the floor.

“Don’t say that,” George responds firmly, gripping Y/N’s chin so he can make her look at him. There are tears spilling down her cheek, and George lets go of her chin so he can wipe them away with his thumb. Even in the dim light of the living room Y/N looks breathtakingly beautiful, and just the thought of living without her makes his stomach lurch. “Tonks is a big girl and would have been just fine going on the mission.”

“What if it was me? Hm?” Y/N asks, looking at George expectantly. “What if I was the pregnant one about to go on a mission that could kill me? Kill our unborn child? Wouldn’t you want someone to take my place?”

“Of course, I would, Y/N,” George chokes out around the few tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s not really sure when they started pouring out, but he imagines it was when Y/N mentioned their unborn child and death in the same breath. “But this is different.”

Y/N shakes her head. “How? How is Tonks being pregnant any different?”

“Because Tonks isn’t the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, Y/N. She’s not the person who I want to carry my children or raise my children with. It’s you.” George reaches down and grabs the charms of the necklace he gave Y/N, rubbing them between his thumb and his pointer finger. “When I gave you this necklace and promised you forever I meant it, teacup. I wanna marry you and have babies with you. And I can’t do that with you if you’re dead, can I?”

“You really think about all that stuff?” Y/N asks through her sniffles, her tone full of a mixture of surprise and disbelief. While she knows that her and George were both on the same page about starting a life together someday, she had no idea he was thinking that seriously about it. They’re just barely nineteen, and Y/N figured marriage and babies were far away in their future, so far away that they would never even cross George’s mind.

George motions for Y/N to come up and lay on the couch with him. “I’m not going to break. Get up here. I wanna hold you, teacup.” Once Y/N is settled on his chest, her head on his shoulder and their legs intertwined he continues. “Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about all that stuff. Like how we’re gonna get married someday. And live on a load of land somewhere. With some chickens and a dog. And a few ginger babies of course, can’t forget about them.”

Just George talking about them having children spikes Y/N’s heart rate, and she has to take a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down. “How many ginger babies are we gonna have?”

“Hm, I reckon maybe two or three? A boy first, and then a girl. And then I think another girl would be nice,” George explains, starting to slowly rub Y/N’s back. “Why, teacup? How many do you want?”

“At least four,” Y/N says seriously, tilting her head so she can look at George. “Two of each. Maybe even a set of twins. A mini Fred and George perhaps.”

George chuckles and leans down to kiss Y/N softly. “Really? You sure you could handle another set of me and Fred? We gave you quite a bit of hell back in our school days if you remember correctly.”

“Yeah and look at where we are now. Laying on a couch together talking about all the babies we’re gonna have,” Y/N points out with a chuckle. “Besides can you imagine McGonagall’s face when two mini versions of you show up at Hogwarts one day? Bet she’d quit on the spot.”

“Oh come on, good old Minnie loved us. And let’s not forget you caused a bit of trouble as well, Y/N. Just the thought of planting a garden still gives me nightmares after you dropped that load of Dragon Dung fertilizer on Fred and I,” George reminds her with a laugh.

“And you made my hair turn yellow for weeks! And made my tongue nearly explode,” Y/N counters. “You want me to list more? Because I can list more.”

“No it’s okay, I get the point.” George just sits there quietly for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Y/N’s weight on top of him. “Just promise me you’ll be careful out there, yeah? Can’t have our four ginger babies without you, Y/N.”

Y/N pulls George’s mouth down to hers again for a few moments. “You too, George. You’re kind of the whole ginger in the situation, so you’re pretty essential in the mix.”

“I promise,” George mumbles, pressing one more kiss to Y/N’s mouth.

“You think it’s been three minutes yet?” George whispers, bringing Y/N’s mind back to the present.

“Probably,” she responds, looking up at George. Y/N reaches up and touches his cheek softly. “You wanna do the honors?”

George reaches his hand out and grabs the pregnancy test, keeping it flipped upside down. “How about we look together?” When Y/N nods George brings the test in between them and he uses his free hand to grab one of hers. “On the count of three, yeah? One, two three.”

As soon as the last number leaves George’s mouth he flips the test over to look at the results. There’s two dark pink lines staring back at them, and her and George look back up at each other.

“What did the two lines mean again?” Y/N asks.

George frowns. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

They both start to throw their blankets and pillows away, trying to find where the box landed after Y/N threw it at George a few minutes ago. “Why didn’t you just buy the one with the words? You had to get the one you need a diagram to figure out.”

“I was overwhelmed, okay? I’ve never been in a muggle pharmacy before and there was like 25 different tests and I couldn’t tell the difference between them all and I just grabbed one at random,” George huffs. He feels his fingers skim over the cardboard box and his eyes light up as he grabs it. “Aha! Here it is!” George skims his eyes over the directions on the back a few times to make sure he fully understands them. “Two lines means pregnant.”

They both let out a small gasp as their eyes drop back down to the test still clutched in Y/N’s hand. The two lines look even more defined now that they know what it means, and when they make eye contact again there are tears pooling in both of their eyes.

“We’re pregnant?” Y/N asks breathily.

“Well I don’t know how pregnant I am. But you’re definitely pregnant,” George teases with a grin.

Y/N rolls her eyes and shoves George’s shoulder before she grabs it and pulls him into a kiss. “Can’t believe I’m having a baby with an idiot like you,” she mumbles between kisses.

“And I can’t believe I’m having a baby with a meanie like you,” George responds playfully, placing his hand on Y/N’s stomach. He spreads his fingers and presses down lightly, as if there’s something there for him to feel already. “I love you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against Y/N’s.

“You talking to me or the baby?” she asks quietly, placing her hand on top of George’s.

“Both.”

Fred Weasley ll comes into the world amidst a flurry of chaos, and it only feels right considering who his namesake is.

The day started out like any other. With her maternity leave in full effect, Y/N decided to head to the joke shop with George. While she can’t do much of anything besides sit behind the till and ring customers out, it made her feel good to be helpful rather than just sitting around the house twiddling her thumbs waiting for George to get home. And she knew George liked the fact that he could keep an eye on her throughout the day.

The pain started not too long after opening. At first she just passed it off as normal pregnancy pains, because she was nearly full term and she couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t have a dull ache radiating through some part of her body. But by midafternoon the pain was radiating through her back and down into her pelvis and not even sitting down eased it. She tried to hide it from George, not wanting him to go into full panic mode during the workday. But then he noticed her wincing as she sat back down after lunch and George started keeping an annoyingly close eye on her.

And then her water broke. George was cleaning up around the checkout counter and some dust that had been kicked up irritated Y/N’s nose and she couldn’t help but sneeze hard. When the liquid first started to leak out she was mortified, figuring she’d just pissed herself. But then she stood up and a large flush of liquid came out along with the largest pain she’d ever felt in her lower half. Y/N and George had just stared at each other for a moment, before realization hit them both. Clearly this baby was coming and coming soon.

George had one of the shop employees send an owl to his Mum while he helped Y/N up the stairs, wanting to Floo them over to St. Mungo’s as quickly as possible. Every few steps they’d had to stop so Y/N could breathe through a contraction, and by the time they reached the fireplace in their old flat George was surprised the baby hadn’t slipped out yet. Except when he reaches into the bowl on the mantle to grab some Floo Powder his fingers didn’t find anything.

They’d had to shuffle their way through Diagon Alley to use the public Floo at the Leaky Cauldron, and by the time they reached St. Mungo’s Y/N was already on the verge of giving birth and both she and George were soaked to the bone from the torrential downpour the sky unleashed halfway through their journey.

Baby Fred was born as thunder started to rumble, and he let out his first cry just as a flash of lightening came crashing down. Y/N is sure both she and George were crying harder than the rain that was going on outside. Fred’s eyes were already open when the Healer placed him on Y/N’s chest, and he was blinking up at her with wide brown eyes. He was already the spitting image of his Father, but the tufts of hair coming out of his head more resembled the color of Y/N’s hair. And while Y/N has never been particularly confident in the magic of Divination, she felt deep in her chest that he was the little boy she’d seen in her dream.

“What’s on your mind, Dad?” Y/N asks George quietly with a grin. It’s well past midnight, and little baby Fred is sleeping soundly against Y/N’s chest. George has been sitting in the chair next to Y/N’s hospital bed for the past hour watching their son’s chest rise up and down slowly, a look of concentration on his face.

“You sure it’s okay we named him after Fred?” George asks, looking up at Y/N. “We could have named him after your Dad. I didn’t even think about that. I should have thought about that.”

Y/N chuckles and pats the edge of her bed carefully, inviting George to come and sit with her. “Can I tell you about a dream I had? I think it might make you feel better.”

“Was it a sexy dream?” George asks with a raise of his eyebrows as he comes and sits down with Y/N. He rests one of his hands on Fred’s back, lightly stroking it with his thumb.

“No, it was not a sexy dream you oaf,” Y/N responds with an eye roll. “It was a couple nights before we moved, before I knew I was pregnant. It was summertime, and I was out in the backyard at the house. And Fred was there. He was chasing this little boy around in that field, the one we turned into the Quidditch pitch. And the little boy, he had my color hair but his face, his face was all you George. And then he called me Mum, and ran towards me, but I woke up before he got to me.”

George just sits there for a moment, letting Y/N’s words sink in. He suddenly feels overcome with emotion as he thinks about what she said, and he has to wipe away a few of the tears that escape his eyes. “That’s funny you say that, because I had a similar dream to that the night we found out you were pregnant.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows as she looks at George. “Really? What happened?”

“I was back at the Burrow. It was empty, quiet. But I could hear a creaking noise. And I followed it all the way up the stairs, to Fred and I’s old room. It looked the same, except there was a rocking chair in the corner. And Fred was sitting in it, and he was rocking back and forth, holding a baby. We made eye contact, but he didn’t say anything. He just gave me a little wink and then I woke up.”

“I don’t know a lot about divination or dream analysis. I don’t really know if I believe in any of it either. But I have a feeling we had those dreams for a reason,” Y/N explains, reaching up to cup one of George’s cheeks. “Like that was Fred, I dunno. Hand picking his name sake or something. Someone just as mischievous as him. A little pay back for Percy being your best man, perhaps?”

George laughs quietly and reaches a hand up to grab Y/N’s intertwining their fingers and giving them a soft squeeze. “You know what, teacup. I think you’re right. I have a feeling we’re in for a wild ride. And I can’t wait.”

And what a wild ride it is.

By the time George and Y/N are celebrating their 10-year wedding anniversary their house is steadily filling up with kids and with all the trouble they get into it’s a good thing George pushed Y/N to fulfill her dreams of being a Healer. It seems every day at least one of their kids is getting injured in some way: a scraped knee, a bump on the head, a bit of smoke inhalation from a whizbang George let Fred set off inside of the house. With how wild and unpredictable their kids are every day is an adventure, even the most mundane family days always seem to end up with something unexpected getting thrown into the mix.

“Mum! Mum! Can you open this for me? Please?” Fred asks excitedly, holding a candy bar up to Y/N’s face.

She eyes him wearily, taking it from him slowly. “Did your Dad say you could have this?”

Fred grins up at Y/N, and he looks so much like his Dad that it melts her heart. “Well he didn’t say no.” When Y/N narrows her eyes at him he lets out a giggle. “He was in the middle of filling something out and he told me to ask you.”

It’s a Saturday, so the whole family is at the joke shop together. Once Fred was born George hated having to leave him and Y/N at home when he went into the shop, so she started tagging along with the baby. It was a nice way for them to spend time together as a family, and when Y/N went back to work and the weekend became their only full family days it seemed natural for her and Fred to tag along with George to work. Now several years and a few more kids later, it’s still Y/N’s favorite family tradition.

“And so, you decided to ask me if you could have the candy bar, by asking me to open it?” Y/N asks with a laugh.

“Well if you said yes to opening it, that kinda already answers the whole, can I have it question,” Fred reasons.

Y/N rolls her eyes fondly and tears open the candy bar. “Nine years old and you’re already trying to out smart me. I’m so proud of you.” She leans down to press a kiss to his messy hair before handing him the sweet. “Share that with your sister, yeah? It’s 10 am I don’t need you on a full sugar rush already.”

“Thanks Mum!”

Fred runs off just as George comes up and he watches his son disappear with a fond shake of his head. “Oh to be young and have energy,” he muses with a grin, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“Please, you still have plenty of energy left. Or have you forgotten how we got into this mess?” Y/N asks with a grin, pointing down at her bump. In just a few short weeks their family will be growing by two more, and Y/N is already exhausted just thinking about having to run after five kids.

“Oh trust me, I definitely remember how I got us into that mess,” George responds cheekily, leaning down to kiss Y/N sweetly. Luckily the store has been pretty slow so far, and they can spend the next few moments moving their lips together softly, just enjoying being in each other’s presence.

“Ew, gross,” Freya giggles, standing up on her tiptoes so she can peer at her parents over the checkout counter.

Y/N pulls away from George’s mouth with a sigh, turning her head to look at their youngest. All that’s visible over the counter is her wide eyes and the mess of fiery red curls on the top of her head. “Can we help you with something, nugget?”

Freya’s head disappears then and a few seconds later she reappears next to George’s leg, raising her arms up and bouncing on her toes. “Up please!”

“Ah, the Queen has made her demands!” George announces playfully. He gives Y/N a wink before letting her go, and he leans down to grab Freya, placing her on his shoulders. “Is this high enough for you, my Queen?” he asks, tickling her sides lightly.

“Daddy!” Freya squeals between her giggles, trying to get away from George’s attack. “No more, no more!”

George chuckles and gives her one more tickle. “Alright, alright, no more tickles.” The bell above the door jingles then and George leans down to give Y/N one final kiss. “Duty calls. I love you, teacup.”

“Love you too, Georgie.” Y/N reaches up and tugs on one of Freya’s curls. Despite the fact that she’s only three and has quite a bit of hair they’ve yet to cut any of it, and Y/N watches the long curl bounce back into place when she lets it go. “See you in a bit, nugget.”

Freya gives a little salute as George starts to head towards the customer before tangling her hands in his hair and pulling on them as if she were pulling on reins. “Horsey, horsey!”

George actually starts to move as if he were galloping, and Y/N shakes her head fondly as their daughter starts to laugh.

The store starts to pick up then, and for a few hours it seems like there’s a never-ending stream of people filtering through the door. Every once in a while Y/N gets a glimpse of George over the crowds of people, since Freya is still happily sitting on his shoulders, and every now and again Y/N watches the crowd part as Fred or Roxanne run through it.

They’ve just opened back up after shutting down for lunch, and Y/N has her back to the shop as she sorts through some of the mail. She turns around at the sound of someone clearing their throat and her heart drops into her stomach.

“Daphne. Hi,” she greets quietly, stepping back up to the counter.

It’s been over a decade since she last saw her old best friend, but the memory of their last conversation comes flooding back to her as if it took place yesterday.

“I can’t believe you’re moving in with George Weasley,” Daphne muses with a grin as she watches Y/N pack a few things away.

It’s been just over a month since they graduated from Hogwarts, and with her Healer training starting soon, Y/N decided to take George up on his offer to move into the flat above the joke shop with him and Fred. Now that they’re both transitioning into adulthood, their free time to spend together is sparse, and even though taking this next step is scary Y/N can’t wait to be officially living with George.

“I know, right? This time last year all I could think about was getting revenge on him and Fred for turning my hair yellow. And now all I can think about is the fact that I get to wake up next to him every morning,” Y/N admits with a soft blush.

“Just George and his little teacup,” Daphne teases, laughing wildly when Y/N throws a pillow at her.

Ginny had once jokingly suggested Y/N get a teacup pin after she noticed the teapot pin Y/N bought for George, since they’re always together and Y/N is so much smaller than George. After that day George’s new nickname for Y/N became teacup. And while she pretends that it annoys her, deep down she actually really loves it.

“You’re one to talk, Daph. It’s only what? A month until the wedding?” Y/N points out with a laugh. The smile on Daphne’s face falters and Y/N gives her a look. “What’s up? You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

Daphne shakes her head as she sits up, giving Y/N a look. “No, of course not. I like to give Marcus a lot of shit pretty much all the time, but I really do love him. There’s just something I wanna talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Y/N asks quietly, sitting down across from her. There are very few things Daphne gets flustered over, and with the look she has on her face Y/N can tell she’s about to say something serious.

“You um. You can’t come. To the wedding,” Daphne stutters out, casting her gaze downwards. “Adrian said he’s not coming if you do and he’s Marcus’ best friend and I just want our wedding to be perfect and I know he’ll be upset if Adrian doesn’t come.”

Y/N can feel tears start to form in the corners of her eyes and she quickly tries to blink them away. “What? Daphne we’ve been best friends since we were eleven. You’re not going to be upset that I’m not there?”

“No of course I am! Y/N you know you’re like a sister to me. But Marcus is going to be my husband and it’s my job to do everything in my power to make him happy,” Daphne responds, reaching out to grab Y/N’s hand.

But Y/N pulls away and stands up. “Daph, it’s your wedding day too. You should have a say in who gets to be there.” Y/N pauses and just looks at Daphne, thinking about all the things they’ve been through together over the past seven years. “You’re really going to choose Adrian over me?”

“You chose George over us,” Daphne reminds her, finally making eye contact with Y/N again.

“That was different Daphne and you know that. I put space between me and Adrian because he was breaking the boundaries of our friendship and it was making George uncomfortable. And it was clearly the right decision since he kissed me and tried to get me to leave George at graduation.” Y/N sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “George didn’t force me to do anything, Marcus is clearly forcing you to do this.”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Marcus isn’t forcing me to do anything, I’m just doing my duty as his future wife.”

“That’s a bunch of crap and you know it. If Marcus really loved you he wouldn’t let some stupid drama from school get in the way of you being just as happy as he is,” Y/N responds firmly.

Daphne stands up then, her expression angry. “Don’t act so high and mighty, Y/N. Just because you have ambitions outside of being someone’s wife or a mother doesn’t mean you’re any better than I am.”

“Well at least when I get married I’ll be an equal in the relationship, rather than my husband’s little pet for him to boss around,” Y/N spits.

“You know what? Fuck you. You’re not welcome at my wedding. Or in my life in general.” Daphne grabs her bag and starts to storm out of Y/N’s bedroom.

“Who said I wanted to be in your life anyway?” Y/N shouts at Daphne’s back, listening to the sound of the front door slamming shut echo through the house.

“Oh. Um, hi, Y/N. I didn’t know that you worked here,” Daphne responds awkwardly, placing the few things in her arms down on the counter.

“Oh, I don’t work here, not really. I just come in on Saturdays, with the kids. It’s a good way for us to spend time together as a family.” Y/N starts to key the products into the register, not really sure what to say. The air between her and Daphne is awkward, and Y/N can see Marcus fidgeting a few feet behind Daphne, looking at some things on a shelf with a little boy. “These for your son?”

Daphne spares a glance over her shoulder at her son and Marcus, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “No, they’re for Adrian’s son. It’s his birthday today, we’re having dinner with them tonight. Although MJ does love his fair share of Weasley products.” She pauses, letting her eyes flick down to Y/N’s bump for a moment. “Is that your first?”

“Four and five actually,” Y/N responds with a laugh. She gestures to where George is standing talking with one of the employees, Freya back on his shoulders. “That’s number three over there, Freya and funnily enough she also happens to be three. And over there,” Y/N pauses gesturing to the pygmy puff cage where a little girl with curly hair the same color as Y/N’s is happily petting a little black puff. “is Roxanne, number two. She just turned six and has spent the past few weeks trying to convince us to let her take home another pygmy puff.”

Y/N scans the store for a moment, trying to find Fred. When her eyes finally land on him he has his knees hooked around a rung of the ladder George uses to reach products on the upper shelves, and he’s hanging upside down with a toothy grin. “Fred Weasley ll you get off that ladder right now! You’ve already cracked your skull open once this year and I am not cleaning up anymore of your blood.” Fred laughs wildly as he climbs down, and Y/N shakes her head as she looks back to Daphne.

“That’ll be Fred, our oldest. He’s only a few years off from Hogwarts, and is it bad if I say I’m looking forward to it just a little bit?” Y/N asks with a small laugh.

Daphne laughs as well, grabbing her wallet to pay for their stuff. “Oh trust me, I’m right there with you. I don’t know how you do it, we’ve just got MJ and I feel like I can barely keep up with him. I’m looking forward to the peace and quiet when he’s off at school.”

“George is a great help, I don’t think I could do it without him. He loves being a Dad, and he’s pretty good at it too.” Y/N hands Daphne her bag and gives her a final smile. “Thanks for coming by. It was nice to see you.”

Roxanne comes up just as Daphne and Marcus leave the store with their son and pulls up a chair so she can climb up onto the counter, being careful not to let the black pygmy puff on her head fall off. “Who was that, Mummy?”

“Just a girl I was friends with, back when I was at Hogwarts,” Y/N responds sadly, tucking a stray curl behind Roxanne’s ear.

“Oh. You’re not friends anymore?” Roxanne asks with a frown.

Y/N shakes her head and leans forward to press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “No, not anymore. But that’s okay. We used to have loads and loads of fun together, and now I get to have loads and loads of fun with you and your siblings and your Dad.”

“I can’t wait to make tons of friends when I’m at Hogwarts. It’s so not fair that Freddie gets to go sooner than me.” Roxanne pauses, giving Y/N a cheeky grin. “Do you think if I snuck on the train they’d just let me stay?”

“Hmm, I don’t know love. Why don’t you give it a try when it’s time for Freddie to go?”

Roxanne giggles as Y/N presses a kiss to her forehead and she gives her mother an excited look when she pulls away. “Oh trust me, I’m planning on it.”

“You think she’s going to try and sneak onto the train?” George asks, leaning over to whisper in Y/N’s ear.

They’re heading towards the entrance to Platform 9 and ¾’s to send Fred off on his very first train ride to Hogwarts. Despite the fact that it’s been over two years since Roxanne first divulged her plan to sneak to Hogwarts with her older brother, she still hasn’t forgotten about it, and she had reminded Y/N and George of her plan last night when they tucked her into bed.

“I dunno, but I don’t think it would be a bad thing to keep an extra close eye on her,” Y/N responds with a chuckle. Roxanne and Freya are walking out in front of everyone, holding hands and twirling each other around. Their curls flounce as they move, and as if she can tell they’re talking about her, Roxanne looks back at her parents and gives them a wink.

Fred is in the middle, pushing his cart along all by himself. He insisted that he could handle it on his own, since he’s going to be off at Hogwarts, and even though Y/N can tell he’s struggling a bit the grin on his face keeps her from intervening. Not that she or George would be much help. Archer and Leo, their twins, are two now, and George has one attached to each leg, giggling wildly as he walks and Y/N has a baby wrap tied around her torso, with their three-month-old daughter Scarlet laying in it fast asleep.

When they reach the wall between platforms nine and ten, Roxanne and Freya pause, looking back at their parents.

“Can we go?” Roxanne asks hopefully, mischief in her eyes.

George laughs and shakes his head. “Let your Mum and Freddie go first, yeah? You two can go through with me after.”

Roxanne pouts but steps aside, nonetheless, pulling Freya to her side as Y/N comes to stand next to Fred. She puts one of her hands on his shoulder, and the other on the handle of the cart. “Ready?” she asks, looking at her son.

“More than ready,” Fred responds with a laugh.

They push through the barrier together, and the platform looks just the same as Y/N remembers. It’s bustling with people as per usual and as George and the girls join them they navigate through the crowd to try and find a spot to say goodbye.

Once Fred’s things are loaded onto the train, Freya and Roxanne are the first to hug him goodbye, but they’re both too entranced by the Platform and the train to really care that they won’t see him for the next few months. Archer and Leo are too busy chasing each other around the small area to care, but Fred grabs them both and presses a kiss to their heads before letting them toddle off after each other again.

George pulls him into a hug first, and his hands shake as a few tears slip down his cheeks. “Love you so much, bud. You’re gonna have so much fun, I promise. Your Mum tried to take it out, but I slipped that box of Wheeze products into your trunk this morning. Just send an owl when you’re getting low and I’ll send more.” He pulls away so he can look at Fred, and the bright look in his eyes reminds him so much of him and Fred when they were that age he has to take a moment to calm himself down. “I’m handing the prank torch down to you, and I know it’ll be in good hands.”

By the time Y/N is pulling Fred into a hug there are tears fully falling down her cheeks and they fall into his hair when she brings him in as close as she can. “Don’t get into too much trouble, yeah? But have fun and learn a lot, that’s kinda the whole point.” She pulls away to press a lingering kiss to his forehead and runs her hand through his wild hair. “And don’t be too hard on the Slytherins, yeah? Your future wife might just be one of them.”

“Ew,” Fred responds, scrunching up his nose.

Y/N laughs and presses one more kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Fred. Write loads, yeah?”

“All the time,” Fred promises. He reaches into the wrap to give his littlest sister a kiss on the head before he steps back to look at both of his parents. “Bye, love you guys.”

“Hang on, one more thing.” Fred pauses and looks up at George, watching as he takes the teapot pin off of the lapel of his jacket. “A piece of me and mum for you to have with you, yeah?”

It’s the first time Y/N has seen George without it and the tears streaming down her face fall harder as he pins it to their son’s sweater. Almost subconsciously she reaches up to grab at the charms of her necklace, letting their familiar texture soothe her as she watches Fred climb up onto the train.

Forever seemed like a long time when Y/N and George first promised it to each other on that journey back to Hogwarts all those years ago. But now, watching that same train carry their first born away as their other kids laugh and play around them it just doesn’t seem like enough.

#George weasley #George Weasley smut #george weasley imagine #gw #golden

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amberlynnmurdock · 3 years ago

Text

Library Series (Pt. 16)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Chapter Summary: Finally, Thanksgiving is here.

A/N: WOW GUYS. It's been QUITE the journey since I've last updated this fanfic. I hope you all are staying safe and healthy in this madness. I've been so busy, I'm sorry it's been a while. Now that I've graduated college, I'll have plenty more time for writing and finishing this series (though there's a long way to the finish line). I still have so many hopes for this story, I can't wait to see it unfold. If you've been here from the start, THANK YOU. If you are just discovering this story, WELCOME!!! I hope you enjoy this fluffy chapter. But get ready... it's going to be a wild ride from here on out. :)P.S. Thank you for all the feedback! I recently kept getting emails about people leaving kudos and comments (more than usual) and I took it as a sign to sit my ass down and write this long awaited chapter. You guys inspired me, and I'm going to keep it up for you.

AO3 LINK

New Jersey was a place Matt hadn’t spent much time in, so he couldn’t form a picture in his mind of what it would be like. He was born and raised in New York; the city was exciting enough. His dad had taken Matt to the Jersey Shore beach a few times, before the accident. All Matt can recall are shelly sands and ice cold water.

With his heightened senses now, Matt almost shivers at the thought of the shore. But thank God you didn’t live near the beach. In fact, quite the opposite, Matt could tell.

The first sound he heard was the crunch of a leaf under his shoes. Matt could vaguely hear you tip the taxi driver and wish him a happy holiday. For once, his focus was on the new territory that was the country side of New Jersey. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he’s pleasantly surprised at the quietness of the town you lived in.

A cold breeze passes and Matt shivers. It’s the only thing he can hear. No distant yelling like New York City has, no cars honking or subway doors opening. All he could hear was the wind, the slick pavement of the road as the taxi drove off, and the sound of your sweet voice pulling him from his thoughts.

“Ready?” You ask. Your voice is optimistic, but cautious. This isn’t just new territory for Matthew–it’s new territory for yourself, too. You can’t remember the last time you brought a boy home to meet your parents.

“Lead the way, miss,” Matt replies playfully, sticking his elbow out for you to hold. You take it graciously and lead him down a cobblestone path.

Matt can smell buttered rolls and red wine. His mouth waters at the scent, but he quickly gains composure as you open your front door.

“Mom, Dad, I’m here with Matt!” You shout stepping in. Matt tries to hide his blush–of course, you’ve told them about him already.

“Welcome home, sweetie,” your dad comes walking down the hall that leads from the kitchen to the living room. He gives you a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. Matt stands patiently with his hands around his cane.

“This is Matthew,” you introduce Matt to your father. Matt holds out his hand and smiles.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir. You can call me Matt,” he says.

“We’re happy to have you join us, Matt. Usually it’s just the three of us. It’s nice to set a fourth dinner plate. We’ve heard a lot about you, so hopefully you live up to the standards we have in mind. My daughter speaks very highly of you,” your dad jokes. You glare at your father.

“Dad,” you say sheepishly. Matt smiles. He’s pleased you’ve talked about him, and he thinks your bashfulness is adorable. The overwhelming urge to pull you in for a kiss washes over Matt, but like your dad said, he’s got to be on his best behavior.

Matt laughs, “the pressure is on.”

In the kitchen, your mom is prepping the turkey. She pops up from behind the kitchen island and smiles as you and Matt walk in.

“Matt, it is so nice to meet you!” Your mom was notorious for jumping right into it, no matter the situation. She walks around the kitchen island to shake Matt’s hand. “It’s such a pleasure to have you join us.”

“Thank you for having me,” Matt says. Matt was so used to being surrounded by Foggy’s entire family on holidays, he wasn’t even phased with how outgoing your mom was. He likes your parents. It’s nice to have a small gathering. Hopefully there will be more, Matt thinks. And hopefully, it will bring you two even closer.

Matt doesn’t want to get ahead of himself.

Dinner was delicious, and conversation was fun, full and flowing. Matt never took so much time talking with Foggy’s family members because there were so many of them, but he liked the intimacy he shared with you and your family. It’s been a long time since he’s connected with someone other than Father Lantom.

Your mom gets up to clean the dishes and Matt offers to help.

“Matt, you don’t have to, really,” you say defensively and reach for his hand, feeling bad for some reason. Matt was the guest, he shouldn’t have to clean. Plus, and a part of you felt guilty for thinking this, but he was blind and… you just felt bad.

“I want to,” Matt simply says. He can hear the guilt in your voice, and the sound of your beating heart is loud in his ears. He appreciates your concern, but he doesn’t need it.

It’s just one of those things.

“Okay,” you reply, slowly letting his hand slip from your grasp.

While Matt helps your mom clean the dishes, you clear the table with your dad. Your dad tugs on your arm and leans in closely to tell you, “I really like him. Invite him for Christmas, too.”

“I want to take it easy, dad. But I’m glad you like him, too. I think mom approves as well,” you whisper back as you look over to see your mom laugh at something Matt said. The scene warms your heart.

After cleaning was done, your parents surprised you that they’d be going downtown tonight. You had an inkling that they were being nice and giving you alone time with Matt, since they’ve never went out after dinner on Thanksgiving before.

“So you’re going to what?” You ask as you and Matt follow them to the front door.

“Just the pub downtown, they’re opening only for the night so the neighbors invited us out as a town Thanksgiving celebration. You guys will be okay here? You can show Matt where he can stay,” Your mom explained as she and your dad put their coats on.

“Oh okay, well, have fun! Be safe. We’ll probably be asleep by the time you get back,” you say, starting to feel nervous that you and Matt would be together in your house alone. The thought was exciting at the same time.

When the door shut, the air in the room changed between you and Matt. It’s like you’ve been waiting all day, all weekend to be alone together, finally. You stand facing the door for a moment before you look at Matt.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be staying,” you say softly to Matt. He has a ghost of a smile on his lips and nods his head. He follows you upstairs with his bags.

You lead him to the guest room which is directly across from your room. You switch the light on and grab Matt’s bags, setting them down on the mattress. It’s a dimly lit room. The bed is a queen size with cotton sheets and a quilt.

“It’s cozy in here,” Matt says, smelling an unlit vanilla candle on the dresser. It reminds him of you. He can only imagine what your room looks like.

“It is. You know, we don’t have to say goodnight just yet. Let’s hang out in my room for a bit,” you say as innocently as possible. Matt nods his head.

“I’d love that,” he says in a soft voice.

The walk to your room felt like miles. The growing anticipation was too much to bear. Your heart was pounding. You had been with Matt alone so many times before but this time was different.

You’re taking him to your room, the room you grew up in and the room that has changed from time to time as you got older. It felt like you were entering a new phase with him and the thought was intimidating because you couldn’t exactly get a read on how he was feeling about all this.

Your room looked exactly like how you left it months ago before the start of the fall semester. Your bed was made and everything was put away–your records, clothes, books. You felt Matt behind you and turned to face him.

He immediately meets you with a kiss. He pulls you in around your waist and lets his cane drop to the floor, like he was dropping the facade he had around your parents. You could tell he was waiting all night to give you a long kiss like that. Suddenly, you thought you had an idea of how Matt felt about all this.

You pull back from his soft lips and smile, “thank you for coming tonight.”

“Thank you for having me,” Matt says in a deep voice, “I’m sorry. I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.”

“You could have; my parents are cool like that,” you say with a smile.

“Not with the way I wanted to kiss you,” Matt quips.

“Oh,” is all you say with a smile. He was really sweeping you off your feet right now. And that’s exactly what he did.

Laughing, Matt gently places you on your bed and joins right next to you. You look at him and smile.

“You’re really making yourself at home, huh,” you joke with him.

“It’s easy with you, my dear,” Matt replies.

“I really hope you had a good time at dinner,” you say.

“I did,” Matt answers honestly. “I really like your family.” You notice he still has his red tinted glasses on. Without asking, you take them off. He doesn’t object.

He turns to look at you, his gaze falling shortly below your chin. For a moment, he takes in his surroundings. Across from your bed is your dresser and on top of that, a lavender scented candle that’s unlit. He can tell you have a lot of books from the smell of the pages.

Branches of a tree rub against the windows from the wind. Being this close to you is even more intoxicating than the red wine you both shared at dinner. Matt could get lost in your senses but being in your room with you on top of that is downright exhilarating.

It’s nice to be alone, with you, Matt thinks. Away from school, away from New York City, away from all the problems it comes with–he thinks being away with you is something he’d like to do more often. It’s safe being away. It’s easy to be with you, being away.

Laying down on your bed, in your room, with you was just the escape Matt needed from what felt like the weight of the world he’s been carrying lately. He wishes the weekend could turn into a week, a month, a year, forever.

For now, he’ll be grateful he gets to spend even a second in your presence.

“I’m sorry I got defensive before,” you say, the thought and scene still bothering you.

“It’s okay,” Matt replies. There’s honestly nothing you could do to make Matt upset, “I know I’m blind, but I’m still capable of doing things normally. People tend to forget. They wonder how I get to class, how I know which dorm is mine, how I–“

“–simply live life,” you finish his sentence.

“Exactly,” Matt sighs.

“Well, I didn’t want to be like one of those people,” you tell him, turning to face him on your side. “I know what you’re capable of.”

You have no idea. Matt felt bad that he was partially lying about the blind thing. Of course, he’s actually blind, but there's much more to what he’s actually capable of doing. He pushes the thought aside. He doesn’t want to be a mystery to you.

“You? Like other people?” Matt scoffs, “You are nothing like anyone I’ve ever met, sweetheart.”

You smile, swooning at him. “Happy thanksgiving,” you say.

“Happy thanksgiving,” Matt replies. He leans in to kiss you on your forehead. “I’m grateful to have met you, ___.”

You kiss his lips and rest your head on his shoulder. You thought tonight would be full of chatter, but instead, you relish in each other’s company in silence.

That night, Matt doesn’t bother to move to the guest room. You close your door and join Matt in your bed for a restful sleep together. You fit snug against his strong and warm body. He wraps his fingers around yours and whispers something in your ear, but you've already fallen into a deep sleep before you could hear what he had to say.

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ikeromantic · 3 years ago

Text

Adrift

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - this scene occurs after the romantic epilogue. (HC post-epilogue fun). Approx. 1300 words.

Thanks to @yukina-otome for inspiring part of this scene with her adorable story Tricking a Kitsune

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Old Friends, New Adventures

The still void stretched out for what felt like an eternity. Yet, when it ended, Mitsuhide was fairly sure it had only lasted a few breaths at most. The gloom around him coalesced into a night sky - similar, and yet strange. The stars looked washed out and distant, and the night itself felt too bright.

There was a fire burning across a path of black stone. It was shaped like a double-arch, yellow as gold, and under it a cherry-red. It didn’t flicker or dance like a flame, but held steady against the night.

His little mouse stood beside him, her mouth open. “Oh,” she said. “Oh no.”

Miyake started to laugh. He bent double, short of breath and gasping, but unable to stop his laughter.

Sasuke was wiping his glasses dry. He slid them onto his face and looked around. “I am afraid there was a slight miscalculation on my part.” He looked to the three of them and bowed low. “You have my apologies.”

“What do you mean, Sasuke? How did we - how did this happen?” The chatelaine sounded more exhausted than angry, though there was heat to her words.

The ninja’s expression didn’t change but his tone was remorseful. “I have been working on a way to trigger the wormholes. To allow passage at will, if we want it. I planned to bring . . . “ He took a breath. “We can talk about what I planned later. Right now, I just need you to know this was not the intended effect.”

Mitsuhide took a breath. “I assume this is your hometown?”

Sasuke nodded. “Our home time, anyway. We are quite a long distance away from my flat. And yours?” He glanced at the chatelaine.

“Yes, if it is still mine.”

Miyake finally got control of his hysterical laughter and straightened. He raised a trembling hand and pointed it toward the black-rock path. Two bright pinpoints of light were moving toward them. “What is that?”

“A car. Those are like very fast carts. It is traveling on a modern highway - a road. And beside it is a western fast food shop.” Sasuke gave the warlord and his vassal a firm look. “Stay off the road, and don’t speak to anyone just yet. Let the chatelaine and I do the talking if anyone asks you questions.”

Mitsuhide nodded. The words and what he was seeing were incomprehensible. He was confused and tired. This night, he wasn't ready to put forward the effort to understand life 500 years after his own death.

And he needed to understand the how and why of this place before he could do anything. Mitsuhide knew he was seeing only a small fraction of this world, and already he felt almost overwhelmed. Focus, he told himself. He needed to get back to Azuchi, and anxiety would not help him to that goal.

Miyake waited for his lord’s reaction and then followed suit. “You’ll be our guide then. Now, care to tell me where in the hells this is and how we got here?”

“First, tell me when we will be able to return. This is not a good time to be away,” Mitsuhide interrupted.

Sasuke sighed. “I . . . I’m not sure. I’d like to say with a slight adjustment to the variables we could return at the flip of a switch. But I believe the wormhole’s location and frequency are impacted by a wider variety of potential vectors than initially accounted for.”

“What he means is, he needs time to work on the math before he can try to get us back,” the chatelaine added when she saw the look on Mitsuhide’s face. “In the meantime, we need to get someplace safe to dry off, change clothes, and rest.”

“And get some food,” Miyake grumbled.

The ninja nodded. “Wait here.”

Mitsuhide watched as Sasuke carefully crossed the black-rock road and went into the brick building behind the strangely arched flames. It was a lantern, he thought, a smokeless lantern.

It took several minutes for the ninja to return. During this time, the kitsune warlord took stock of this place. He wanted to see the world that created his little one. The peace and wealth that could build a woman of such ideals and kindness.

This was not how he’d imagined coming to this place though. Here, in a clearing near a . . . highway . . . with Miyake in tow. Leaving chaos behind him.

In the distance, he could see the glow of many fires. And above him, he spotted a falling star. Only it wasn’t falling. It was moving fast through the night sky, blinking red and white.

The chatelaine spotted the object of his attention. “That’s an airplane. It has lights on it when it is landing or taking off.”

Mitsuhide nodded as if he understood, though most of what she said sounded like nonsense.

Miyake’s eyebrows rose. “An air . . . plane?”

“Right. It’s a flying, uhm, like a boat? They put people and cargo on it, and take them all over the world.”

“Could we take it home?” Miyake watched the lights progress across the sky.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t travel through time.”

“Too bad,” Miyake sighed.

Sasuke finally returned and guided them across the road. He stopped near the giant fiery arches. “If anyone asks, you are cosplayers. We are here waiting for our ride. Please say nothing about the wormhole or - or where we came from. The results would not be advantageous.”

Mitsuhide smiled. As if he needed to be told that the truth was not always the best response. “What is coz. . . cozplay?” The word felt strange in his mouth as if it didn’t belong there.

“Ah, roleplayers who dress up and pretend to be things or people they are not.” The ninja shrugged. “A bit like a theater troupe.”

“Not again,” Miyake sighed, earning a reproving look from Mitsuhide.

The four of them trudged through double doors. Perfect, flaw free glass. Mitsuhide did not react, but he was surprised. What kind of place had so much perfect, clear glass that they used it for doorways? He might have asked, but the interior assaulted his senses, distracting him from any question.

The inside was lit as brightly as noon, and smelled of grease and salt. People in strange matching clothes stood behind a long, tile table on one side. The other held tables and chairs, smooth and shining - not wood or stone, but something else entirely. It was to these that the ninja led them and told them to sit.

The few people inside were staring at the group uncomfortably.

“Cosplay,” Miyake said to them, waving. It was like a magic word, causing a sudden and complete lack of interest.

The chatelaine laughed nervously. “I didn’t think about how different we’d look here.”

Mitsuhide laid his palm on her lower back, rubbing gently in small, calming circles. “It’s alright, little one. We are cosplaying. We should stand out.”

She smiled up at him. “Right. Yes.”

Sasuke came back to the table with four cups filled with a dark liquid and a tray of some hot, chopped . . . something. It was not recognizable.

Miyake eyed it suspiciously. “Is this food?”

“Furaidopoteto and kōkusu. I’m lovin’ it,” Sasuke replied with a grin.

The chatelaine reached for a cup and took a long drink from it. “Oh! It’s so sweet! I don’t remember it being so sweet!”

Mitsuhide picked one up. The inside bubbled, almost like it was boiling, but it was cold. It tickled his nose when he smelled it. He took a tentative sip. The bubbles in it popped and foamed on his tongue in a wash of sweetness that was beyond even fresh honey.

He swallowed, coughing, and wiped at his lips.

The chatelaine giggled at the expression he wore.

“Why does it bubble?” Mitsuhide peered into the cup, curious.

“It’s carbonation. It has gas in it that makes the water bubble for awhile.” She smiled. “Did you like it?”

“It is . . . interesting.”

Miyake picked up one of the furaidopoteto and popped it into his mouth without hesitation. “‘S like ship rations. Salty. Crunchy.” He swallowed. “Pretty good.”

They polished off the food and most of the drinks by the time their ‘ride’ arrived. It was a sleek metal and glass cart. Ship. Box with wheels. Mitsuhide didn’t have anything to compare it to. He felt a sense of being adrift and estranged. It was only his little one’s hand in his that kept him focused.

These things were familiar to her and she trusted them. And he trusted her. Even when the ‘car’ sped up so fast that the night around them blurred into an unrecognizable smear of countryside, light, and the strange night sky.

Next: Fake It Til You Make It

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen sasuke #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

Hard and Mellow – Hoseok

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 1.7k

Genre: smut, established relationship

Rating: 18+

Hello everyone! Stopping by to deliver this quick drabble. It’s been a while since I wrote something because sudden inspiration struck me, so I thought I could follow the mood and this came out.

I’m thanking the best beta reader of this whole galaxy (that I will never thank enough), @joheunsaram. Becoming friends has never been as easy as it is with you. Lob U. I also want to thank a very specific Silent Princess. This is all for you, baby. You’re more extraordinary than words will ever say. You’ve been through so much and I’m so proud of you. I hope this will give you a good time, and someplace you can go back to when you want to escape from the real world. I’d be honoured to call you friend. I’ll wait for you in my next life 💜💐

Do NOT open the “read more” if the following topics trigger you: Sir!Hoseok, Sub!reader, multiple orgasms, vibrator, masturbation and oral sex (female receiving), face fucking and hair pulling (male receiving), squirting, cumplay and cream pies, general messiness, cum eating, heavy breast play (slapping, gripping, squeezing, nipple pinching and tugging), exhibitionism, impregnation/breeding kink, heavy dirty talking, biting, mentions of impact play (spanking and whipping with belt), bruising, mention of blacking out.

Here is my complete masterlist!

Enjoy 💜✨

“Tell me how it feels.”

You simply arched your back and stared deep into his eyes.

“Tell me,” he repeated, curling his fingers and moving the vibrator closer to your clitoris.

“Too good.”

“Too good what?” He teased you.

“Too good, Sir.”

You were barely coherent at this point.

Five orgasms were taking their toll on you. More than that, you had also squirted with the previous two, your body and mind growing increasingly vulnerable.

The fact that he was so clearly going for the sixth, and that he could keep going after that — you knew he could and would — made you grip his hair and shove his face against your crotch.

“So naughty,” he growled with a deep laugh before getting the toy inside you, switching the vibration pattern to a pulsating one that always made you wild for him, his tongue titillating your most sensitive spot with hard, quick flicks.

You tugged at his hair naturally, planting your heels on the mattress before your hips shot up; his hands came to your breasts, gripping them hard before his fingers delivered a sharp, burning slap to your left mound.

He sucked your clit harder, his fingers pinching your nipples while the feeling of the vibrations inside you became way too much for you actually survive his assault.

“Sir, please, stop.”

He hummed and kept going, the growl so deep in his throat that it felt almost minacious.

“Oh, please. No, no, I can’t— Sir!” You screamed, letting sobs fall from your lips just as tears began rolling down the sides of your face.

With a grin in his mouth he kept going, overstimulating you until he felt your release wet his neck and chest.

Nothing pleased him more than feeling you gush for him, over and over.

You could barely believe that the same man who was obsessed with cleanliness and spotless rooms was the same one making you drench the sheets at least once a week — usually with a timing perfectly calculated with the changing of the sheets.

And there was such a deep, bone-melting pleasure in showering while barely alive and falling asleep in his arms with your body brainless, soft and clean against the fresh crisp sheets.

But tonight you were far from that.

You were far from being done.

At least, he was.

He watched your body grow entirely limp underneath him, your eyes closed, your legs shaking as they tried to close, only to surrender to his unfaltering will.

He was hungry.

He was desperate.

He was all things he’d never dared be with anyone else.

He wanted things he never thought he could have.

But now there was you, and even though he was afraid he would lose you to someone who could be reliable in ways he couldn’t, he was ready to tie you down to him in any way he could.

He felt stupid. He felt dumb and reckless and absolutely insane.

He abandoned the slightly sour and salty taste of your cunt, not before lapping at the creamy wetness coating your folds, making them part with a squelching, sticky sound.

He took the vibrator out of you and slipped it into his mouth, eating and licking and sucking at all the sweet release he’d coaxed out of you before letting it rest on the sheets — they were messed up already anyway.

He silently grabbed your ankles and dragged you all the way to the edge of the bed, your body still too tired for you to actively notice anything but the friction of the cotton burning against the bruising skin of your ass and the back of your thighs.

You barely remembered if it had been his hand or the belt — it was a remote memory. Maybe two or three hours ago.

Too much had happened to your body for you to hold on to such fickle facts.

“On your knees. Now.” His order was stark and cold, getting a piercing, squeaking whimper out of you, your legs dangling from the bed before he settled behind you, his thin and strong arms shaping you into the position he required you to be.

You were now sitting close to the edge of the bed, your legs bent underneath you as you finally found enough strength to cooperate.

With your back to his front, straddling him, you felt his throbbing cock against your core, lifting your hips just enough for him to place his tip against your entrance and slide inside once you gave in to the firm, hot fullness of him.

“Yes, my love. Ride it,” his voice came from over your shoulder, one hand coming down to your clit, already looking for one more orgasm, his other palm cupping your heavy breast, bouncing with the needy rise and fall of your hips and with your heavy breathing. Your nipples felt too delicate, too sensitive.

You cried out loudly and shamelessly once he pinched one, tugging at it before rolling it between his thumb and forefinger in a poor attempt at soothing your skin.

His breath was too cold against your sweaty skin.

He managed to bite your shoulder, sucking briefly at the curve of your neck before you felt his rough voice.

“I wish I could fuck you like this on a stage. Show everyone how good I am to you.” He slapped your breast once more before he started meeting your thrusts. “Show them how I make you cum. How I make you squirt all over me.” He bit and growled as he felt you get tighter. “I’m gonna show all of them how my sweet, delicate strawberry turns into the loveliest cumslut for this cock.”

You shook your head and cried out, imagining a thick crowd in front of you, watching in silence, waiting for your orgasm like football supporters wait for a goal, ready to cheer.

“My sweet strawberry. Bet no one can get you half as dirty…” He chuckled. “Such a cute little fuckdoll. Aren’t you hungry for my cum? Don’t you wanna be filled up?”

You sobbed and nodded.

“Say it with your words, Giggles.”

“Sir, please,” you managed to squeal before both his hands grabbed your breasts.

“Please what?”

“I want your cum. I need your cum. I’m empty and cold without it.”

He felt pleasure grow almost too much, ready to overthrow him.

“That’s right. You’re only mine to fill up.” He tortured your nipples some more. “Aren’t you eager to be bred, like an expensive fine pet?”

“Please, gimme babies. I’m your pet. I’m only yours to be filled up, please Sir.” You felt more tears roll down your cheeks.

“That’s right. But this won’t work.” He murmured, helping you on all fours before grabbing your arms and pinning them behind your back, making your whole torso collapse onto the bed, your face meeting the spot where his cock was laying earlier as he ate you out. You could tell by the heavy scent of his sex.

“This is the right position for you to get all those babies. They’re gonna stay deep inside. Like this.” He said, driving his cock all the way inside you, humming at the increased depth and tightness.

“It would be so fun to let everyone see how we make babies, don’t you think? Almost a shame we didn’t film this.”

His giggles were evil and taunting, “I’m gonna cum. Would you like to, Giggles?”

You nodded and immediately felt his hand between your legs, touching you with expertise.

“You’ll get so round and soft. It’ll be so lovely.” Hoseok was reaching the very edge. “Everyone will know you’re getting fucked to be bred.” He bent down, closing his eyes and breathing deeper to control himself. “Being too horny when you’re ovulating, walking around the house in nothing but an oversized shirt.” He slapped your ass once, twice, three times, trying to last at least one more minute. “You’re really begging me to put a baby inside you.”

“Please, it’s all I want, please, Hoseok!”

“Such a good girl. You earned my cum so well, my sweet berry,” he managed to coo before he gave irregular, violent strokes.

“Oh, please!”

He lost himself once you squeezed him as tight as you could, forcing him to spill all his cum inside you, the hot spurts shooting against your oversensitive inner walls while his mouth opened wide, letting a few seconds go by before he actually managed to make a sound.

He rammed inside you with animalistic force, fucking his cum deeper inside you, letting your tight cunt milk him until his balls didn’t feel heavy and uncomfortable anymore.

His sweaty forehead hit your nape, but you barely registered that. Pleasure crested and your body became numb to everything, finally giving in to exhaustion as your vision blacked out.

You didn’t know how long it had been when you managed to come back to reality; Hoseok was quiet behind you, your bodies now resting on your sides.

“Giggles,” he called gently.

You hummed and nodded.

“Are you doing okay, honey?” His voice was raw and concerned.

“I’m okay. Tired.”

He kissed your shoulder, where he could spot a bite mark darkening. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head. On a second thought, you changed your mind. “Stay inside,” you whispered.

He did as you told him.

“I really want kids, Hobi.” Your voice was shaking and fatigued after all the heavy breathing and crying and screaming.

“We’ll have as many as you want,” he replied, drawing a line of kisses. “Whenever we’re ready.”

You nodded and scooted further back into him.

“You’ll be so beautiful, with a big round belly, glowing in happiness.” His hands caressed your body reverently. “You’ll be so sweet, breastfeeding our child on a rocking chair. And you’ll be the best at lullabies. Your voice is so nice and soothing,” he was getting emotional. “You’ll make the prettiest, gentlest of babies.”

You caught his hands in yours. “And you’ll spoil them rotten.”

“How can I say no to a mini-you?” He took in your scent, the smell of him and you and sex so deeply interwoven with every fibre of your being. “I hope they look like you.”

You tried to cuddle him as you heard him sniffle. “You’ll be the best dad in the universe.”

He gave a small laugh. “For now I’ll focus on the idea of getting all them babies inside you.”

You chuckled and wiggled your hips against him, squeezing around his half soft cock. “I second that.”

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok drabble #houseofddaeng #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtansorciere #thebtswritersclub #hoseok x giggles

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

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Hangang River Bride (OT7 x Reader) 🐾☁️💜🔞 Chapter 2: Dog Teeth

🍁Pairing: OT7 x Hybrid!Reader

🍁Genre: hybrid AU!, mild angst, fluff, romance, smut

🍁Warnings: fluff!!, clingy Jimin 🥺, playfighting, cursing, minor injury (Little fox burns her hand), protective Jungkook!, a lot of cuddling, suggestive themes, kissing, heavy making out, alpha!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, knotting, threesome, two to be exact, or is it more like a six-some I dont know okay, big dick! Gang Koo & Tae but wbk, Sweet aftercare, naked cuddling, biting, marking, can someone get me a guy like Namjoon pls, pack dynamics, Yoongis tongue technology, so much soft love gestures like nuzzling and Eskimo kissing and pls don’t touch me this was a wild ride okay-

🍁Summary: after slowly settling down, little Fox slowly gets used to living with the bunch. It’s safe to say that she’s never experienced so much happiness in one place; and sometimes that can get quite overwhelming. And also, she's far from done with experiencing new things; there's so much more for her to explore. Good thing she had more than enough help to teach her the proper way of living- and loving.

Chapter 1 (summary of past events) || Chapter 2: Dog Teeth || ???

Again, major warning for mobile users: The wordcount on this one is a bit over 7.3K words.

It had been a while since you officially moved in with them.

Slowly but surely, you got more and more comfortable with the different personalities of everyone around you, at first a bit overwhelmed with all of the energy and sometimes chaos- after all, all you had known was order and discipline. Yet it felt like this was an actual family, a pack of some sorts; it made you feel safe and warm. Every time everyone was home, it was like everything was complete as well.

Even Namjoon and Seokjin, who you'd admitted to being quite wary off since they were human, had somehow managed to win your little heart along the way.

But what exactly were you all?

You sometimes caught Jimin stealing a kiss or two from Yoongi, who'd never been shy about it at all, yet he also never truly admitted to anything romantic going on between them. Asking any of your owners was useless as well, since Seokjin had just laughed his signature squeaky laugh at you when you'd asked. He'd simply pat your head, telling you to find that out yourself- and you were frustrated ever since. You couldn't just go out and ask them all if there was some sort of relationship going on, that would be way too intruding! After all, you were still the last one to join the dynamic, the lowest in rank if you will. Your entire nature didn't allow you to simply outright ask for what the hierarchy was; it was normal for foxes to find out themselves by simply observing.

Yet that was the issue.

Jungkook was clearly an alpha male, yet he never showed true intentions of actually dominating anyone in a sense of taking leadership. Sure, he was very much dominant in getting what he wanted, yet he never truly used that to his own advantage- for example, he always made sure Jimin got his food first, which, for a very short period of time, made you believe that maybe he was the top dog. Yet then you saw how Yoongi always changed the entire dynamic of everyone's behavior as soon as he'd step inside the room- making you wonder if he was the highest. But that all changed yet again when Seokjin playfully lectured him one time for cutting him off mid sentence. Both humans may stayed oblivious, but you could see his ears tilt back a bit in shame.

So what was true now?

It all didn't make sense at all. How were you supposed to find out your place if you didn't even know what everyone else's was? It confused you to no ends, leading to the situation you were in now; frustrated and sulky inside your room, covered under soft blankets as if to shield you away from the group until you'd finally figured it out. A knock pulled you out of your thoughts, as you could hear a voice soon after.

"Y/n? I called for dinner but- what are you doing?" Seokjin asked with a slight chuckle, sitting down next to the lump of fabric he suspected you under. His hand lifted a part of the blanket a bit, revealing one of your ears and your face to him. "Why are you hiding sweetheart?" He asked gently, scratching behind your ear as he began to look a bit worried.

"I can't figure it out." You huffed, sitting up and looking at the broad shouldered man with a desperate look in your eyes. "You said I should but I can't- none of it makes sense!" You whined, making him smile and deflate a bit as he finally noticed what the issue was. He sighed.

"What did I tell you the first day you were here?" He gently asked, running his fingers over the velvety smooth fur on your ears, chuckling as they snapped back and forth from the tickling feeling.

"You said you're all equal.." You answered, yet it didn't truly satisfy you at all. There were five hybrids in one household, six now with you counted in, there had to be some sort of balance. "But how.. Jungkookie is an alpha but he never eats first.. Jiminie is too soft to be a top dog, and Yoongi always puts himself lower in rank when you're there.." You queried, genuinely feeling your head throb at that.

"Well, you answered your question though." He said, and you tilted your head to the side, not understanding his statement at all. "It all depends who is with who." He said, sitting down a bit more comfortably before patting his legs, inviting you to climb out of your makeshift den and to sit on his lap, which you happily did. "If I'm not there, but Namjoon is, Namjoon is in charge of everything. If he's not there either, Yoongi is. And if he's not there-" He said, smiling at you, "then Taehyung is." He said, and your eyes widened. Sweet and jumpy Taetae? Jin seemed to almost hear your thoughts as he grinned. "Taehyung had quite a problem with his dominance when he first got here. I know it doesn't seem like it, but he's quite demanding at times, forgetting that this household isn't solely his. He's a bit overprotective, you could say." He explained, making you nod your head. It did make sense why you never noticed him bei like that- after all, you hadn't left the house much, and if so, always with someone at your side, never alone. You basically knew no one apart from them. "Jungkookie is a special case you could say. He can dominate any situation at any time, but he chooses not to willingly." He clarified to your now absolutely interested gaze. "He doesn't want to mess with the dynamic too much, and keeps himself in check most of the time. That doesn't mean he won't get into fights with someone- he and Jimin fought a lot when Jungkook first got here. It was a mess, really." He remembered, making you furrow your brows a bit. But jimin was so sweet and soft? "Jiminie was used to being a bit.. pampered you could say. He was looking forward to finally not being the lowest one, so he tried to get Jungkook to fill that role. It didn't work, obviously." He stated, and you nodded. "You could say, Jimin is above you now, which is why he got so emotional when you left back then. He's not a dominant character, but he hates being reminded of that." You flopped against Seokjins chest, making him huff out a breath as he grinned. Your head turned towards the door as you noticed Namjoon. How long had he been standing there?

"Don't be too upset though." He simply said, walking closer until he sat down on the side of the bed, hand reassuringly running over your back, making you purr against Jin's chest. "Since you're a female, I highly doubt anyone will treat you as a true lowest. They all simply want to keep you safe, which by the way, isn't exclusive to them." He said, looking at Jin with fondness as he nodded. "Everyone wants that." He stated, and you attempted to say something, before you heard feet running over the floor, someone sprinting up the stairway as well.

"Hyung no, thats unfair!" Taehyung exclaimed with a loud whine, bursting into the room and jumping on top of the mattress, hugging you from the side and rubbing his nose against your neck in an attempt to scent you- even though that was really not necessary. Now that you knew about him more after what Jin had told you, you could actually see it more clearly. He was claiming you even though Seokjin and Namjoon were way too close to make it useful for him to do so, yet he did it anyways as if to prove a point. Namjoon gently tugged on his ear, a small reminder for the hybrid to tone it down and not get carried away with his antics.

"Hey, we're waiting downstairs to start eating while you guys have a comfy cuddling session?" Jimin exclaimed scandalized, making you laugh into the white shirt of Jin.

"What happened?" Hoseok asked frantically as he bursted into the kitchen after hearing you yelp. You instinctively hid your hand behind your back as he offered his own, waiting until your showed him your hand, fingers a bit red as you had accidentally touched a hot plate in the microwave. He cooed at you, leading you towards the sink where he gently let cold water run over them to soothe the pain a bit. "Better?" He asked, as you nodded, smiling at him again. "Good!" He exclaimed, leaning down to give you an eskimo kiss, making you giggle.

He loved these moments.

At first, you'd been a bit intimitated by his sheer endless energy, worse than Taehyung as he would at least calm down after a bit. Hoseok was always energized it seemed, randomly singing or underlining his actions with cute sound effects here and there. This was him, and you slowly learned to simply adore these things instead of questioning them; after all, you really loved him, and he'd been nothing but sweet to you. He was an absolute ray of sunshine.

It inspired you.

You learned from him to slowly come out of your shell, getting more bold and brave in your actions, even sometimes playfully fighting with Jimin over food- a fight he'd always let you win, even though he was higher in rank than you, and typically always ate first. It didn't matter however, as everyone adored you too much to deny you anything.

Hoseok loved holding you like this, simply having you close and breathing in your scent as he thought about absolutely nothing. He didn't need to, because as long as everyone was in one place, everyone was happy as well, and that instead made him happy. It was as if it was an energy exchange, as he always diffused situations and lightened the mood, his own batteries would charge the most effectively whenever everyone had fun.

This was how it was supposed to be.

"I'm gonna get you!" He exclaimed with a playful growl, before you sprinted away from him, knowing that you couldn't outrun him- but this wasn't a true chase, it was a playful game, something that you have had to learn. It was now a regular thing with everyone around the house; sometimes even Yoongi would join in, yet that was pretty rare. Taehyung and you however bantered quite a lot, usually ending up cuddled together after getting told to stop before you could break anything.

"Careful-!" Namjoon yelled, yet Seokjin simply put a reassuring hand on the shoulder of his husband, turning his attention back towards his cooking. "Those two.." He sighed, trying to not slice his fingers as he began to attempt to chop a carrot under Jins surveilance.

"They'll be fine. Y/N is way more confident these days, she'll tell him if things go too far." He said, and Namjoon nodded. He'd noticed that shift in your behavior as well, a special change which made him incredibly happy. It meant that you had truly accepted everyone and your own place, feeling comfortable enough to sometimes even challenge Jungkook- even though it was never truly meant seriously. He had been worried at first on what could happen if that ever was to occur, yet the wolf hybrid had surprised him entirely, by simply letting you jump on his back at random times, and even letting you win in tickle fights sometimes, even though he was clearly stronger than you were. He was so gentle with you that it made him feel absolutely comfortable leaving the house to his hybrids whenever he had to go to work and Jin couldn't stay home either.

"Gotcha!" Taehyung barked out, as he spotted you hiding behind the couch, playfully throwing himself over your form as he nipped at your neck.

What happened next however, caught him completely off guard.

He could suddenly feel your behind pressing upwards- straight into his pelvis, as your tail flopped to the side, front dipping low. You had seemingly misunderstood his actions entirely by the way you suddenly presented yourself- or it was simply out of instinct. After all, Taehyung was a domestic breed; he didn't understood nor felt his hybrid animal instincts as much as you or Jungkook did. However, with something as absolutely obvious as this gesture, even he felt himself pick up the pace of his breathing, skin suddenly feeling clammy. He'd never thought about you in this way- sure, you were absolutely pretty, but he'd been so concerned over your past that he'd never quite seen you as a potential partner.

"Yah, could you not do that in the living room you two?" Seokjin yelled, spotting the two of you. "Also stop dominating her Taehyung, you know this!" He said, getting closer to him. Yet he stopped in his tracks at what happened next.

Taehyung actually growled at him.

Namjoon, hearing the words, came into the living room soon after, instantly pulling Seokjin back by his shoulder as if to warn him. The way they could see Tae's eyes watch them warily, and the fact that he now held you firmly, canines holding your neck in a possessive way making your ears tilt back flat against your skull.

He'd fallen into a feral state.

The only reassuring thing was that you seemingly had no fear towards him, just pure submission, which did ensure your safety in this very high-risk situation you had found yourself in. Taehyung was way taller and stronger than you, so you fighting against his hold could end with injury- even if Tae was a sweet young man. In this state of mind he wasn't to be messed with, even if he was only a domestic breed. Yoongi came inside the living room after hearing the commotion, eyes widening at the scene. He immediately turned around, Pushing Jungkook inside the nearest room- which was the guest bathroom in that case, before the wolf could react any further.

This was bad.

Seokjin however, held nothing back, shaking his husbands hand off as he went closer to the two of you, not backing away or getting intimitated in any way, not even as Taehyungs growls got louder, Namjoon getting more and more nervous. Jin however, held his ground, grabbing the younger hybrid by the hood of his shirt as he pulled him off of you, pulling him to the ground. It may seemed awful what he was doing, as he held him down to the ground by his neck, yet this was necessary to make him snap out of it. Your eyes widened at the dog hybrid down on the ground with the elder holding him firmly by his neck, knee positioned on his back to keep him where he was. You jumped up, running upstairs as you shut your door, burying yourself under your blankets. This was your fault.

And you felt horrible.

"Taehyung, do you know why I did that?" Seokjin asked gently as he ran his hand through the hybrids hair, now sprawled over the elders lap on the couch. Namjoon had opened windows to get rid of the stuffy air, while Yoongi talked to Jungkook, calming him down and reassuring him that nothing had happened, and no one was hurt. As a predator he was way more sensitive to shifts in a situation like that, so it took a while, but he eventually became calm. Taehyung was back as well, now a bit teary eyed as he held onto a pillow, his very sudden adventure into a feral state leaving him vulnerable. It was normal, Namjoon said. He would get over it in an hour or two, as soon as his pheromones were back to normal again.

"I know- I know and I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to I-" He stammered, holding onto the pillow even tighter as he remembered what had happened. "I don't even know why I-" He said, and Namjoon squatted down in front of the couch, scratching the boys ears as Jungkook emerged from the bathroom, a bit on edge yet visibly calm enough to walk into the room and not bite the head off his elder packmate.

"Well I know." He simply said, sitting down a bit further away, back against the cold glass door that led to the front porch. "She was presenting, it was normal that you did what you did." He explained, and Yoongi nodded as well as he stood near the sofa, watching Taehyung.

The cat hybrid sighed. "I don't mean to you know, sound like a pervert or anything, but it's bound to happen at some point." He said, explaining further as Seokjin and Namjoon looked at him questioningly. "She's a female, she's submissive, and due to her species she compliments both canine and feline hybrids." He clarified, Namjoon nodding. "It doesn't matter if we all take surpressants or not; as long as she doesn't undergo some procedure to prevent her from being able to get pregnant, we're all walking on eggshells." He stated, making Namjoon furrow his brows.

"But that doesn't make sense." He disagreed. "She's a completely different species. There is no way for her to get pregnant in the first place." He argued, making Jungkook nod this time as he chimed in.

"Thats true." He said, before looking at Tae. "But that doesn't mean she won't smell ready." He clarified, and Seokjin became more serious, making Taehyung sit up now. "So, to make it clearer; just because we can't knock her up, doesn't mean we won't try." He said, making Yoongi snort a bit at the way he phrased his sentence. That diffused the situation a bit, making everyone less tense.

"I'm gonna go to Y/N now.. I-" He said, slowly getting up. "I need to apologize. She's probably feeling super bad right now." He said, and Namjoon nodded, against the very concerned face of seokjin. The elder however didn't say anything, trusting his partner that he knew what he was doing. He had more knowledge after all.

"So what does that mean?" Jin asked, now a bit torn. Could this mean they had to give you up?

Namjoon sat down now. "It means we'll have to see. If she doesn't want to be intimate with anyone, we'll ask her about a procedure to be done. If she doesn't want that either, we'll simply have to adjust. We can't simply give her away anymore, with how much she's bonded already." He said, and Jungkook nodded.

"There's another issue though." Yoongi grumbled, as he sat down next to Jungkook. "You can't just try and fool me by saying you aren't attracted to her in a romantic sense. Lets face it;" He offered, letting his head rest against the cool glass behind him. "We're all whipped for her."

Everyone was silent for a moment, before Namjoon sighed. "We can't force her to love any of us. After all it took us all enough time to settle down our feelings with each other as we were, and that never involved intimacy apart from Yoongi and Jimin, and me and Seokjin." He said, and everyone agreed.

This was a mess.

"Y/N?" Taehyung timidly asked, knocking at your door softly when he couldn't spot you. He saw some movement underneath the amount of blankets piled up on your bed, making him sigh. He went closer, sitting down as he let his chin rest on the mattress, hand reaching out. "I'm sorry for what happened, I didn't.. I don't know why I did that." He mumbled, and suddenly a small hand emerged out from the blankets, searching a bit on the surface before finally finding his, holding it. He smiled gently, unfolding some blankets to finally meet your eyes; thankfully not scared, but hesitant nonetheless.

"I don't know why I did that either, I.." You mumbled, now sitting up and playing with his hand. "And you got in trouble because of me." You apologized, gaze falling downwards in shame. "m' sorry.." You said, as he shook his head, climbing onto the bed to sit, his hand running over your head a few times.

"No, it's alright, we were both kinda out of it." He said, and you looked towards Jungkook and Yoongi entering the room, body suddenly curling up and trying to appear smaller as they came closer.

"It's alright sweetheart, no need to back down." Yoongi said, walking closer and sitting down next to tae, leaving Jungkook to simply pick you up and settling you onto his lap, tail softly swaying from side to side in fondness at your body being so close to him. "But I think its best to talk about it." The eldest in the room said, looking at you. He felt a weird sense of comfort seeing you in Jungkooks arms, as if you were right where you were supposed to be. He shouldn't quite feel that way, considering his actual romantic interest in you, yet it somehow didn't feel wrong- there was no envy whatsoever.

"Do you like us?" Jungkook questioned, voice rumbling in his chest against your back, making you shudder a bit. The question was absolutely out of the blue and so unexpected that you had to collect your thoughts a bit before answering with a yes. Of course you did, after all, they were your family- you trusted them with your life with both eyes closed. Taehyung however shook his head, as Jungkook asked again, this time, a little differently. "No, not like that. Do you like us, as in, love?" He asked, and again, you nodded.

Yoongi sighed from his spot, crossing his arms with a flick of his ear, showing his irritation. "Jungkook is being shy again." He said, making the wolf look at him with an absolute scandalized expression you couldn't see, but it did make Tae laugh, so it must've been hilarious to see. "Let's phrase it like that." He said, crawling a bit closer to you as you swallowed. Yoongi had always had this charm to him- his feline eyes had always made you feel weak. "If, let's say, Taehyung would kiss you-" He asked, making yours and said dog hybrids eyes widen. "What would you do? Or better- what would you feel?" He asked, making your skin suddenly feel all tingly.

Those were thoughts solely kept to yourself. You surely had wondered what it would be like to feel them in a more romantic sense of skinship, of course, but you respected the boundaries too much as to ever let it go from a simple daydream to more. And now Yoongi sat in front of you, all serious, and asked you.. this? What in the hell were you supposed to answer? "I'd.. I- don't know.." You said, and Yoongi hummed, sensing your nervousness.

"Then what if we tried it?" He said, making you almost stop breathing. "Not him, but let's say, me." He offered, making Taehyungs ear fall a bit, yet he understood why he was changing the person of interest now. Even though he was calm again, there was still a high risk that he could fall back again, and with Jungkook in the room, that could end horrible. "Only a peck, alright?" He asked, and you nodded- maybe a bit too enthusiastically, as Jungkook chuckled behind you, and the cat hybrid in front of you smirked.

It all went so fast.

His lips were suddenly on yours, molding perfectly in your opinion, before pulling away, giving you no time to really think about it. It was short, way too short, yet it only ignited something inside you you'd held captive for so long. You whined, ears flattening against your head as your head chased after him, making Jungkook hold his hand against your chest, holding you back. "No, I said just a peck, not more." Yoongi said, making you pout in defeat. "So?" He asked, and you scoffed.

"I wanna go again." You argued. "That was too short, I wanna go again-" You said, before Taehyung placed a kiss just barely on the corner of your lips, making you squeak. "Nooo, Tae that's not fair, now I-" You whined, before Jungkooks hand found its way underneath your chin, making you tilt your head and body a bit to allow his lips to fall against yours as well, just for a short moment, before pulling away. You growled, and it made everyone coo- since it sounded nothing but cute to them, considering you didn't mean it seriously whatsoever. "How can I concentrate now?!" You complaint, as Yoongi pulled your attention towards him again.

"So, you want to kiss all of us now?" He asked, and you nodded, before turning red, and trying to undo that statement. "No darling, you don't get to take that back. We don't mind that, it actually makes us really happy." He said, genuinely smiling at you as you could spot his sharp canines, gummy smile now blinding you. He rarely ever smiled this widely. Taehyung chimed in, now excited as ever as his tail thumped on the mattress beneath him in a fast pace.

"What about Jiminie? Or Hobi?? Or Namjoon and Jin?" He asked, and you shrunk down in Jungkooks lap with a red face, simply nodding as Taehyung smiled brightly at Jungkook, who chuckled. "Hyung, hyung, she loves us!" He exclaimed as if Yoongi hadn't heard nor seen any of it, his tail going a mile a minute as Yoongi laughed, shoving the hyperactive hybrid off of him with a grin.

"Who loves who?" Jimins voice asked from the doorway, making Taehyung jump up and cling onto the cat hybrid, grinning at Hoseok and their two owners behind him with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Y/N loves us all!"

Things continued actually quite normally, apart from the fact that everyone- including the two humans- got way more touchy than they used to be. Kisses were shared, some more in secret while others were placed with purpose, showing open affection and or to tease you. You didn't mind at all- it made you feel special, and loved.

Sometimes however, kisses would turn warmer than usual, more needing, and leaving doors to uncharted territory opened for you. It wasn't like you were a virgin by any means- yet you never truly tied sex to romance at all. For you, those things were two entirely different things, one of them making you feel good, and the other simply necessary act to try and produce offspring. So you were a bit surprised when Taehyungs kisses got a bit more demanding, his hands wandering underneath your soft cotton sweater, roaming over the skin underneath. Why was he being so.. delicate? If he wanted to take you, why be so unsure with it? "Hm, I love you.." He hummed in between kisses, making you smile a bit. He chuckled before slightly lifting the piece of clothing, as if asking for permission. You seemed confused. "Do you.. not want me to.?" He silently asked, making your eyes widen a bit.

"Why do you ask?" You wondered, making him detach himself a bit from you, eyes now a bit glazed as if hurt. You were confused.

"I do but-" He said, voice a bit strained as he realized what your confusion could be a sign for. "Sweetheart I don't want to do it just because I want to. I want you to want me too." He said, and you still tilted your head, unsure what he meant. You couldn't give him any pups whatsoever, so why would it be something you would want as well? "Have you ever, you know.. made love before?" He asked, now confused as well.

"Made..love? Wait, is that what you guys call sex?" You bluntly said, and Jungkook stopped in his tracks as he walked past your room, now peaking inside, curious what you were talking about. "Hello Kookie!" You waved, happy smile on your face as Taehyung couldn't tear his eyes away from you, deep in thought.

"Hello love." The wolf greeted, walking closer and patting your head, tapping Taehyungs back a bit. "You okay?" He asked the older one, who suddenly looked at Jungkook with eyes holding somewhat of a helpless glint in them. "What're you guys up to?" He asked, trying not to get too concerned for now.

"Taehyung asked me if I ever made love, but I don't know.. how do you make that?" You asked Jungkook, who's eyes only softened at that, understanding more deeply than the dog hybrid did. He came from a place similar to you, still sure he'd seen you before in the halls back then. He knew what female hybrids were typically used for, yet until now he'd hoped you were one of the few who'd escaped before it could happen. But if you were that clueless, then he was wrong- meaning that you had already been 'taught' what intimacy was.

It had been confusing for Jungkook as well at first, when he'd noticed Yoongi and Jimin emerging out of their room one day, way more clingier towards the other than usual. It didn't make sense why two male hybrids would ever want to be together in that sense, considering there was no actual use of it. There was absolutely no way that offspring would occur, so what was the point? He'd had a long talk with everyone back then, as they explained to him that no, sex didn't need a purpose other than showing another one that you deeply cared for them. It was not just a way to reproduce, but to also feel close to someone else in the most pleasurable and intimate of ways, and Jungkook had to really get used to that concept for a while, before eventually finding the sense of logic behind it.

It seemed the same with you.

"Look, little fox.." He hummed, sitting down close to you as he combed through your hair with his fingers. "I know what they probably taught you about all this. Please forget everything about that, okay?" He said, and you looked at him confused. "Your purpose is more than just getting bred, alright? You're more than your body, and you're more than just a pet." He stated, making your eyes glaze over the same way as Taehyungs had done.

Said dog hybrid nodded, before hugging you close, licking over your ear as if to console you as he noticed your scent shift. "H-how do you.. make love then?" You asked timidly, now curious but also too hesitant to take any initiative. You felt so open and exposed, you felt as if the only way to mend you back together was with the gentle touch of those two lovers of yours, who had such a delicate way of touching you. "Can you.. show me?" You asked, and Taehyung wanted to disagree, telling you that you should wait until you're ready, but Jungkook simply nodded.

This was difficult, because you would never know when you'd be ready. Right now you were vulnerable and at the same time sensitive to everything around you, making it the perfect moment to exchange any bad memory you had with this kind of stuff with new, loving and warm ones made out of affection and love, not out of pure reason. "What do I have to do?" You asked, ears now alert, ready to follow whatever they'd tell you. But Tae simply shook his head, nose nuzzling the crook of your neck where your scent was strongest.

"Nothing at all sweetheart. We'll take care of you." He mused, as Jungkook gently pulled your sweater over your head, exposing your skin and underwear to both of them, making him lick his lips. He should be angry at the large hands of Taehyung which wandered over your skin, mapping out your body to for his mind as if to imprint it for himself so he could forever feel you whenever needed, yet Jungkook simply watched in absolute endearment as the size difference of the hybrid and you got more prominent, your tail now swaying from side to side, ears moving frantically as you sighed, experiencing new feelings. He should be concerned with the open door, but they were all well aware of each other's antics, so there was no need to keep anything a secret. "Hm, is that good?" The deep voice of the dog hybrid whispered almost, as you nodded your head, own hands now reaching for Jungkook who'd simply watched until now. You turned on Taehyungs lap to face the wolf, as the alpha leaned forwards, kissing you with a newly ignited fewer, tongue immediately exploring your mouth as you mewled, moving on Taehyungs lap as he kissed along your spine, unhooking your bra for you before he tapped your arms, making you slip out of the straps holding the underwear safe on your shoulders.

As it was dropped carelessly onto the ground, Taehyungs hands instantly moved to fondle your breasts, sighing in content at the soft feeling of them, making you squirm a bit on his lap, putting pressure on his already rapidly hardening length. Jungkooks hands turned their attention towards your shorts, pulling on them a bit more impatiently as Taehyung had done with your clothing, making you wriggle out of them, your underwear alike, making both of your lovers sigh at the view of glistening slick already dampening the fabric.

You tried to turn around, getting ready to present as Jungkook held you in place firmly, making you slip lower with an oof as your head landed in Taehyungs lap, who smiled above you. Jungkook immediately changed his position, face immediately dipping lower, as his tongue licked from your entrance up to where your center began, growling possessively at the taste and scent of it. "You're so precious, sweetheart." He hummed against you as he continued his motions, making you close your eyes at the foreign feeling of pleasure. You held onto Taehyungs arm as his other made sure to give your chest enough attention, eyes full of adornment as he watched you cling onto him in pure bliss, hips moving in a rhythm only you seemed to feel. You began to huff suddenly, getting more sensitive as Jungkook stopped, moving to get rid of his clothing as well, nodding towards his friend to do the same, as they began to both shed until they were bare, Taehyung now taking charge as he crawled over you, Jungkook taking your hands as you reached for the dog hybrids length, ready to please him. "No, this is about you." He gently said, making Tae nod as he held himself in his palm, running his head over your slick entrance before entering you, making you take in a sharp breath, before your eyes glazed over. "Are you okay?" the wolf asked a bit concerned at your reaction, making the dog hybrid stop for a moment.

Were you okay? You were more than that, you were overwhelmed with the feelings that shot through you. You felt so loved, so comforted, so complete that it made your eyes water, making you cry in happiness as you sniffled, nodding your head to console both of them. "I'm just.." You began, voice a bit croaky. "I feel so happy." You said, making both of them coo at you, as the dark haired hybrid wiped away your tears, kissing your forehead, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose as Taehyung began to move, slowly, without any goal in mind. "Tae-" You chanted, making him chuckle as you whined at the teasing tone of if, as he licked at your neck, mouthing at the sensitive spot there, while your hands kept seeking contact with Jungkook, who's heart swelled at the gesture. "Hng.." You hummed, as Taehyung slipped out of you, palming himself towards his release, before switching spots with Jungkook, who was quick to fill you again, his pace much more aggressive, yet not less filled with love. "Want-" You began, getting interrupted by your own moan as Taehyung ran his hands over your shoulders, giving you a silent reminder that he was still there, as he nipped at your ear playfully. "Want you knot-" You whined out, and Jungkook growled along with Tae at the pleading tone of your voice.

"You want my knot little fox?" Jungkook queried, a hint of teasing color to his tone as you nodded, back arching so enticingly as you came closer to your own release. "Hm, you sure you can take it sweetheart?" He asked, picking up his pace as he felt his end approach. "Want me to fill you up? Hm?" He asked, and again, you nodded, craving him, slowly understanding what he'd meant with feeling close. You felt so safe, so protected, so utterly loved and adored that you could've sworn you were able to fly, able to grow wings and reach for the heavens without any boundaries. He grunted out a curse as he dipped down, biting the unoccupied side of your neck hard, yet not hard enough to truly hurt you long-term. His hips stuttered as he felt himself swell up, making you mewl out as you felt him inside you, locking himself safe as his warm cum spurted out, filling you up with its warmth. Taehyungs hand reached between your bodies as he noticed your frustration but tries to keep quiet over the fact that you were so close- yet unable to come. You violently breathed out as his fingers reached your pearl, using your slick to run over it a few times, making you finally tumble over the edge, your walls clenching as Jungkook breathed deeply, the feeling making him a bit oversensitive as he let you both fall to the side, careful to keep you close as to not hurt you with himself still locked inside you. Taehyung laid down close to your back, making it possible for you to rest against his chest comfortably without fearing to tug on Jungkooks knot.

The simple feeling of skin against skin, the way both of them groomed you with outmost care, and how they both had you in their middle, shielded from the world, made you purr out in happiness, breathing in your now mixed scents.

It smelled like home.

"Seems like you guys had fun." Yoongi grumbled from his spot leaned on the doorframe as Jungkook still held you, and Taehyung continued to sleep as he buried his head into your neck. "You good there, little fox?" He asked amused, as he saw your head emerge from between both males, happiness clear on your cheeks as they were still a bit red, your hair a bit unruled. He smiled at you, before Jimin stepped inside.

"I want to cuddle as well.." He carefully asked, unsure if both would really want him close. Taehyung giggled and patted the bed behind him, as Jimin jumped in, making you all giggle as the carefree situation shifted when Jungkook sighed, his knot having gone down enough to finally have him slip out of you, his cum seeping out, still warm from how you safely kept it inside. Yoongis pupils contracted, sharply locking his gaze on the scene as he felt the need to claim you as well grow inside of him. He stepped forwards, kneeling down as he pulled on your legs, making your body slide towards him as his hand ran over the mess you unintentionally made, before placing his tongue onto your bundle of nerves, tasting not only you but also his two packmates on you, making him smile. You squirmed a bit at the feeling, entirely different from Jungkook or Taehyung, as Yoongis tongue was naturally a bit rougher due to his feline nature.

He hummed, a bit teasingly still. "Hm, Tae and Kookie been eating good as well, it seems?" He wondered, as you slowly grew red around your cheeks. "How about I'll show you how to really enjoy a meal, yeah?" He stated, and you simply whined as he dove back in again, this time a bit more demanding, a bit more dominant as he held your legs open for him, Jimin now crawling over, watching the ordeal with his own eyes darkly on your pleasure- drowned face. Taehyung moved to the side a bit as he made space for the feline hybrid to take his place next to you, watching Yoongi eat you out like a starved man, exactly knowing how to push your buttons by instinct. Jimin turned your back towards him, pulling you close towards his chest as he laid on his side, having already gotten rid of his clothes simply because the majority of you didn't wear any as well, and he craved a more intimate skinship with you either way. He was a clingy lover, always trying to keep the people dear to him close, needing physical touch as a form of confirmation that he was loved. It was logical, in a sense; as a male calico cat he was said to be weird and unnatural as they rarely ever occured in cat hybrids. He was everything but that, but it had taken a bit to boost his confidence to a more normal level.

"Hyung's really good, isn't he?" He whispered into your ear, voice lower than you'd ever heard it being, making you arch into his body as he carefully led his length towards your entrance, slipping in with ease as Yoongi momentarily stopped, watching as the younger one filled you up so perfectly, making him palm himself in his sweatpants, painfully hard at this point. "What do you think, little fox.." Jimin wondered as he spotted the older one on the ground. "Think you can help Yoongi?" You nodded, already reaching out to him as Jungkook moved tiredly to the side, Yoongi sitting on his knees close to you, your hand already finding his cock, soft hands moving with gentle motions, inexperienced yet oh so pleasurable, simply because it was you. He felt his precum smear over your hand as you looked at him with such warm eyes, full of bliss and happiness, as he grunted, leaning down to kiss you hungrily, making your movements falter a bit before you resumed, now a bit more confident as he sighed into the kiss, breathing a bit heavier as he struggled to shed his pants and underwear, finally joining the rest in ridding himself of his clothes, room way too stuffy and hot anyways to keep them on. Jungkook and Taehyung simply watched from the sides, enjoying the show as Yoongi spilled into your hands, catching his breath for a moment until Jimin bit into your neck, teeth a bit sharper than Jungkooks and therefore leaving more distinctive marks as he stalled, cum spurting inside you as you came as well, with yoongi rapidly rubbing over your lower lips, making you yell out silently, reaching for yoongis hand to push him away in oversensitivity as Jimin pulled himself out of you, cum slowly dripping down.

"What a mess.." Yoongi mused, moving to stand up, yet Jungkook suddenly held him from behind, cuddling up to the older one as he made him lay down with you, everyone suddenly needing to be close again.

"Just sleep, hyung. We can clean up later." He grumbled into the older ones neck, grooming him respectfully as Jimin still held you close, Taehyung behind him as well.

"Hyung." Namjoon hushed, catching the older one's attention as he pointed inside Taehyungs and Jungkooks shared room. "I think the issue solved itself." He whispered, making Seokjin smile.

Yes, maybe it really did solve itself.

446 notes · View notes

blackvelvetwriteson · 4 years ago

Text

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓

( ~ Kakashi Hatake x Gender Neutral Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Smut and Fluffy Fluff!

FANDOM: Naruto: Shippuden

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There’s smut towards the end! (Thigh riding and overstim, etc.) Nothing too hardcore, but it’s worth noting.

SUMMARY: I really hope this is sort of what you were leaning towards! I haven’t watched Naruto in years so I had to refresh my memory a little and do HELLA research, but I hope I didn’t disappoint! This is Kakashi with a bratty reader! There’ll be a small oneshot (probably posted later today) to follow this because music inspired me lmao.

WORD COUNT: This is just a headcanon/imagine so N/A REQUESTED BY: @impromptuxprompts

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

We all know that Kakashi is a pretty stoic man, right?

Like literally NOTHING pisses this man off.

Or like.. At least until he gets you, Reader-Chan.

But here’s the thing, you decide to try and make him break at least a little bit.

Despite what people may think, he’s generally pretty vanilla.

He also has really bad nightmares; being too hardcore could send him into a bad state.

But not everything needs to be rough all the time. You like how cuddly he is.

But he’s ONLY cuddly towards you. And when you both are alone.

He’s DEFINITELY the type to always try and teach you something.

Like, “Kashi! I’m gonna put my hand on the stove!”

And you’d think he’d be like, “No… You shouldn’t do that.” Right?

Wrong.

He just shoots you THE most unimpressed look, crosses his arms, and leans against the wall and nods his head a little like.

“…. Hm… Go ahead.”

You just STARE like homeboy you’re REALLY gonna just let me… Put my hand on the stove like that?

And then he’d watch you wimp out and whine and he’d reward you with a forehead kiss.

You get happy for a second, but goddamn what is this man thinking about? Like you can NEVER tell with him.

But you can’t get mad at him; he knows ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about romance.

This dude REALLY tried to call you “his favorite kunai” before he settled on Blossom. And you had to tell him why you being “his favorite kunai” was an issue because he honestly thought he’d gotten the hang of it.

He’s watching TV and you’re reading a book and decide to dress in one of his sweaters with nothing on underneath.

I mean NOTHING. Like, no underwear, no shirt- nothing.

And I mean the only reaction you get out of him is a small “Hm…” And his eyes widen a little and that seems like that’s all it is.

As you’re pouting, you don’t notice his eyes slowly raking over your body, he just doesn’t blush or anything because this man could keep a poker face if someone had a gun to his head.

And you just stomp your foot a little like. “Am I not beautiful enough for you or something?”

This time you get a bit of a reaction but he just blows his hair out of in front of his eye.

You both have a set of rules that you follow, and in exchange, he lets you eat sweets before dinner and before bed, and he also has to keep his mask off the entire time he’s at home.

“What do you mean? You’re just fine,” he says in that soft, cold tone of his. His eyes linger a little on the hoodie misforming your body.

He loves it actually. He loves how all of the little folds hug you and he knows it smells like him.

He also knows that it’s your comfort blanket of sorts, so of course he knows that something’s wrong with you.

“Come here, Blossoml,” he says softly and he pats his lap.

“No.”

He looks a bit taken back.

Surprised? No. Disappointed? Absolutely.

He notices that you don’t have the little bear he gave you with him and he raises an eyebrow.

“Where’s your toy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

He just sighs quietly and you smirk thinking that you won.

“I’m guessing you don’t want any sweets after dinner tonight then?”

“Mm-mm. Nope.”

You a whole damn lie. And he knows it.

He tries to go through and think about why you’re acting like such a brat today and he remembers that you get like this when you guys haven’t had sex in awhile.

It’s been almost a month.

He does this thing where he tries to deprive himself of things that makes him feel good or makes him happy, but he does it in such a way that you don’t ever recognize it.

“Why should I get to live free and feel good and be happy and my comrades can’t even feel anymore?” That’s what he always said to try and make an excuse for it.

He’s WAY more laid back now than he was years ago though, but he still has some of his same habits.

But it’s too late. You’ve already pushed the brat act and noticed he’s slightly started to get agitated.

He sat back and leaned forward, his elbows rested on his knees, his eyebrows furrowed just a little, his lips just a little pursed.

You were standing right in front of him and you shifted uncomfortably under his intense blanketed gaze.

“K-Kashi-“

“I’m going to ask you one last time, Blossom. Where’s. Your toy?”

“U-Uhm…”

He knows how difficult you are when you get like this, so instead of counting down from 10 or some shit, he spells out his name, and with each letter, his gaze gets more intense.

“K….A….K…..A…..S……”

You start to whine and his eyebrows only furrow more and he stands up, your resolve now nonexistent. “H….”

“I-It’s under the bed and I can’t reach it! I’m sorry!”

He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “What’s gotten into you today, Blossom?

“NOTHING!”

“Inside voices.”

He taps the side of his head and you nod. That was the signal for him sort of telling you to tone it down a little and you abide to avoid aggravating him.

He walks into the room and kneels down, gently collecting the bear from under the bed.

You thank him and hug him as you chitter quietly and he still has no idea what to do with his hands so he just pats your head.

“If you wanted me to grab your bear for you then why didn’t you just ask?”

You pout and bury your head in his chest. He never really understood the point of people being a great but with YOU he seemed to tolerate WAY more than he would with anybody else.

“I-I… I d-don’t know,” you say quietly.

He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning back, his eyes guiding you to one of his thighs.

“This is what you wanted right? Sincerest apologies for not being able to give more… But this is all I can offer at the moment,” he speaks quietly as you walk closer.

He gently takes you by the waist and positions his legs right in between yours, slowly lowering you how he knows you like it.

Before you move- or before he lets you move- you just stop as you notice his eyes locked on yours.

He gently takes your chin in his hand and makes you look at him.

“The next time you need something, just ask. Why do you insist on being a brat?”

You whine more but immediately shut up when you see his sleepy expression.

“B-Being a brat is the only way to get your attention on me! I don’t like it when you’re sad! I want you to be… MINE. Not your mind’s…”

He allows you to fully sit on his thigh, slowly guiding your hips to ride it as he spoke to you.

“Blossom… No. You’re all mine, for sure, you’re just not observant.”

You open your mouth to protest but he puts one of his soft fingers into your mouth so you can’t and you just suck on it contently while listening to him talk to you.

“I notice when and why you act like a brat. Hm? I know that you want this,” he gestures to you. “And so much more. However, I need you to recognize that I’m not like… Most men out here… I’m not normal… I’m so sorry if I seem so distant, truly. I’m *not,* I promise. I just… Don’t equate sex with attention… And I don’t really have a drive for it, yknow? Like…. Just… I don’t know what it is… But I know for sure that it’s not on you.”

You liked it when you both had your heart to hearts. Especially like this.

He wasn’t an especially hard Dom, he always found out what it was you wanted, questioned you on why you thought you deserved what you were claiming you did and made sure you’d been taking care of yourself before he gave it to you. He didn’t like being too rough so he made sure that every action he made was soft and gentle.

You didn’t like gentle all the time, so you’d let him know and then guide him into what you were craving in the moment.

When he choked you for the first time, he was a bit scared but he was also confused. — “U-Uh… People like this s-sort of thing…? Why?”

He also gives REALLY great spankings, but he’s also confused as to why people like being hit too. (Aren’t we all.)

You listen to him and realize that the two of you have had this talk before. You don’t like that he felt forced to tell you this again especially when you knew that it made him uncomfortable.

“Blossom… I’ll do my best for you, okay? I’ll be normal and just like everyone else… At least in terms of expressing my feelings to you… But for now, work the brat out of your system by riding on my thigh.”

You did as instructed, sucking hard on his fingers, your eyes glazed over as you rest your hand on his chest for support as he started to slowly bob his leg for you.

He was okay with one of many things, however, and that was praising you. He always took the chance to praise you, especially whenever you did well, but he took extra care when you were in your moods.

He also knew you liked it when he moaned or when he made noise for you so that you knew you were doing good, so he did just that too.

Whenever you rode his thigh, he always took special care of you, holding your waist and guiding your sex into the hardest part of his thigh.

Bonus points if you’re wearing his shirt, or anything of his really.

He always likes to graze his nails over your skin too because of the goosebumps it gives you.

He watches you make a mess of his thigh, feeling your legs tremble around his and this gives him a smile. It’s VERY subtle, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

“That’s right Blossom, just keep grinding into me just like that… You’re being so good for me baby, don’t stop until you’re satisfied,” is what he often reminds when you’re close.

Occasionally when your leg brushes past or presses into his bulge, he returns the favor and he grinds against your leg subtly, but it’s still there.

And the best part?

He always lets those moans and whimpers out in your ear for you to soak up.

He doesn’t like it when you call him daddy; he just doesn’t. However, he does allow you to call him “Mister” or “Sir” to make up for it.

By this point you’re about ready to cum right there and you know, he’s never held you back from an orgasm, so this should be easy, right?

Wrong…. Kinda.

He tells you to slow down and you just stare up at him in disbelief.

Tf did he mean “sLoW dOwN”

So you whine a little, but then he slaps your ass and you’re just like :O

And a VERY fleeting smirk shows up on his face.

You abide and he pulls your hips down against his lap harder and then you jolt and dig your nails into his chest.

“W-What a-are you doing S-Sir?”

He pushes his fingers deeper in your mouth to shut you up and while you’re riding his thigh, his hips are grinding into your leg and he brings you closer.

Of course, as if he hadn’t already, he broke your very fragile bratty demeanor and he knew he did too.

He nibbled at your ear while all of his sweet little groans flooded into your ear.

He also hiked his leg up hard and that caused to to bite down on his fingers a little as you arched your back.

He lets out a hollow laugh in your ear because he knows that you’re holding back an orgasm.

“Didn’t I tell you to go until you were satisfied? So why are you holding back?” His eyebrows furrow a little and you try not to cum but that doesn’t really last long.

He starts to nibble on your neck with a soft growl and he forces your hips faster against his leg, but you know you’re in trouble now because he starts to spell his name after every single nibble.

“You have until I finish spelling my name,” he said quietly in your ear as if you both were in public.

“H…. A…. T…”

You’re trying again to hold on, and his fingers latch on to your tongue a little not making any of this easier.

Naturally, you start to drool; so you’re a mess on his lap trying to keep from bursting over his leg right then and there. I mean come on, he just started spelling.

“A…K…E… K…A…K…”

You can’t really hold on anymore and he smirks, pleased with himself as you tremble on his thigh, your nails digging into his skin, your toes curling as you try to push yourself onto his thigh more but also try to pull away because you’re so overtimed you could barely take it.

“A.. S…” He laughed quietly as his nips became a little harder, your orgasm only intensifying.

“H… I…” He mumbled quietly as he finished spelling his name into you.

You didn’t know what kind of hold he had on you but you loved it, and you were such a mess on his lap, trembling with labored breathing, you try to stay upright but find it hard to as you’re about to pass out.

“Have you finally got that brat out of your system or should I…” He jolted his leg up into your sex and you whimper loudly looking like you’re about to cry, your eyes widening a little.

“N-No sir! No more! I-I c-can’t take anymore,” you murmur out quietly. “P-Please let’s just cuddle…. I w-want you w-with me,” you whimper. It was apparent to him that you were slipping into subspace and he knew just how to take care of you.

“Don’t worry, you’ve been a good baby for me,” he said softly, gently kissing the side of your head as he picked you up.

He allowed you to lean into him before he laid you on the bed. You were still extremely sensitive and trembling, letting go of him as you let the bed hug you instead.

You knew what time it was so you didn’t complain when he left.

He came back a moments later with a few things; a bag of chocolates he reserved for this occasion, a few candles with a lighter, his cologne, and your favorite lotion.

He lights the candles first and then he places them around the room. The sweet warm scents now filling the area around your room.

He then walks over to you on the bed and he slides into the bed, turning on the TV to some cartoons, warming up a dollop of lotion in his hands.

“Is this what you want to watch, Blossom?”

You, of course, nod sleepily and whine quietly as you feel the warm lotion over your body, his slender hands gently kneading into your back. It felt so good that you couldn’t help but to let out soft mewls and moans trying to press closer to him.

He smiled and moved you onto your stomach so that you were facing the tv and he moved to straddle your lower back as he gently massaged the warm lotion into your back causing you to whimper and whine softly, your body still sensitive from your orgasm.

“Am I going too rough?” He asks in that sweet almost melancholy voice of his that you loved. It somehow always managed to lull you into subspace.

You only respond with small grunts and mumbles.

He took a break to open up a couple of the small chocolates and he gently pushed one into your mouth with a soft kiss against your ear as he left the other in a sort of pile right next to you so you could help yourself.

You couldn’t help but to whimper quietly and you nibble at your little bear’s ear as you watch your cartoons, sucking on the chocolate as he went back to massaging your skin with the warm relaxing lotion.

He also loved to worship your body, especially since you tell him that you don’t know if you mean anything to him.

He works the lotion into your whole body; your back, your sides, your arms and hands.

He lotions up your hands by keeping his hips pressed into yours from behind while his hands gently caress yours. He loves playing with the muscles and bones in your hands, primarily your knuckles.

When he was finished with the rest of your body, leaving your neck left treated too with soft kisses as well, he repositioned so that he could cuddle with you from behind.

He ALWAYS cuddled you until you were asleep so he could clean himself up and go make dinner for whenever you chose to wake up, the brat ALWAYS worked out of your system after he was done with you.

“What do you say, Blossom,” he always chided in that sweet almost monotonous voice of his with his soft closed eye smile.

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll be good from now on.”

#requested #naruto shippuden #Kakashi hatake #kakashi sensei #kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake lemon #naruto shippuden x reader #kakashi headcanons #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n

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des8pudels8kern · 4 years ago

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Geralt doesn’t manage to shake the bardling for weeks after their run-in with Filavandrel. A beating and the ugly truth about the stories humans tell each other to feel good about themselves barely seem to have scratched the surface of his romantic notion that Geralt is a misunderstood hero rather than a mercenary who specializes in killing monsters. Still, after almost two months of roughing it in the woods he declares that his songs will do Geralt no good if there is no audience to perform them for, and turns right, towards inns with soft beds and pubs with plenty of cheap ale and audiences too drunk to be disconcerting, while Geralt turns left, towards more of the ever-same shit.

He doesn’t expect to see him again.

“Geralt!” The call rings out across the street as Geralt steps out of the alderman’s office, and for a moment he cannot place it, not the voice nor the face of the caller. Then the man stops waving and moves to cross the street, and now Geralt sees the lute on his back. The bard from last year.

“I was making my way along the trade route South when I heard that the people here had sent for a witcher for their little basilisk problem, and thought to myself I should come and see if the witcher in question isn’t my friend, the White Wolf. And here you are! What a happy coincidence!”

The bard beams at Geralt. He tries to go in for a hug but changes his mind at the last minute, apparently not entirely void of self-preservation instincts.

Geralt grunts at the happy coincidence and regrets that he wasted time earlier washing off the worst of the blood in the river, otherwise he’d have been gone by now.

The bard stays at his side “collecting inspiration” until the siren call of some musical competition lures him away.

“Geralt!” It’s early summer, Geralt has lost his armor to a centipede’s acid, and he’s in town for the fair, hoping one of the trade stalls will offer suitable replacement when Jaskier pops up at his side.

“I knew I recognizes that silver hair! You look… like you need a bath, actually. Do you have a room yet? Well, with the fair in town you are probably too late now. Come, you can share with me. It’s time I get back and pick up my lute for my turn on stage anyway, and with your glower clearing the way we’ll be so much faster than I’d be on my own.”

They leave town together three days later.

“Ah, Geralt!” He’s just finished his third contract of the year when he returns from collecting his money to find Jaskier stood next to Roach’s stall.

”I’ve just left Haage, where I wintered at the court of the lovely Lady Lenor, tragically widowed and much appreciative of my company and talents, and was hoping I’d run into you if I went East.” Jaskier skips up to him and starts plucking sticks and scales out of his hair. “Didn’t we part around here somewhere last year?”

They travel together all through summer and into fall. Geralt leaves him in Ard Carraigh and heads North long after the first frost.

“Ger—ah, apologies. Wrong witcher. I didn’t miss Geralt, did I?”

Eskel blinks at the strange man before him, then shakes his head.

He’s never heard of someone requesting the services of a specific witcher. Then again, Geralt has that song about him going around; maybe it really did help his reputation. Either way, they are still on the main road from Kaer Morhen they all follow down before their Paths diverge for the year, and he left before Geralt.

“My gratitude, sir witcher,” the man chirps. He ducks back into the tavern, and when he comes back out, he carries a lute slung over his shoulder.

Huh.

The bard waves at him as he trots past, and Eskel, dumbfounded, waves back.

“Geralt!” Jaskier plops himself down on the bench beside him, close enough that their arms brush, and heaves a deep breath. “There you are. I was beginning to worry I’d gone the wrong way.”

He’s in one of the tiny settlements just barely out of the foothills of the Blue Mountains, getting Roach’s horseshoes seen to, and there is absolutely nothing there that would explain Jaskier being anywhere nearby. Jaskier’s inexplicable ability to have their paths cross year after year notwithstanding, the closest town that could have sustained the bard through winter is weeks away, and spring has broken so recently that Geralt himself only left Kaer Morhen days ago.

Jaskier pulls out two slightly pruney pears, and Geralt, who has only had dried fruit the entire winter, shrugs and accepts his company together with the pear.

“Geralt!” Jaskier sits on a rock at the entrance of the three houses that make up the very first village Geralt passes through, coming from Kaer Morhen. His lute lies in his lap, fingers moving over ths strings, his legs swing back and forth, and he seems not the least bit surprised to see him.

Lambert, riding at his side, throws Geralt a quizzical look.

“Did you leave your bard here all winter,” he whispers under his breath, too low for Jaskier to hear.

“The closest I ever left him was Ard Carraigh. He just kept showing up closer and closer each year,” he hisses back.

Lambert frowns. “He probably just asks around which direction we come from every year.”

Jaskier slips off his rock and stretches his back. “Shall we go, then?”

“Geralt!” They look up and stare as Eskel leads Jaskier into the hall.

“Horrid weather outside.” His face is red with cold and there is snow melting on his coat. The same snow that closed the pass weeks ago.

“I heard him knocking at the gate when I came back from the stables. Couldn’t just leave him outside, could I,” Eskel says with a helpless shrug.

With a tired sigh Jaskier drops down onto the bench next to Geralt. He wordlessly passes over his bowl of stew into Jaskier’s reaching hands.

Lambert hasn’t yet learned to be quite so resigned to his fate.

“You took the path up the mountain?”

Jaskier hums around his spoon.

“Is there more than one path up the mountain, Vesemir?”

“No, just the one.” The old witcher stares at Jaskier the way he would at a creature that fits not a single one of the entries in his bestiary.

“The one we used to send young witchers on, as a final test of their training?”

“Yes. That one.”

“Sorry, is there any more of that stew?”

Geralt grunts in affirmation and refills his bowl for him with a smug grin around the table.

That’s what they get for years of mocking Geralt that, surely, Jaskier couldn’t be that weird; Geralt probably just didn’t understand how humans worked.

----------

Day 11 of my 500 words challenge, 1163 words. Ah, I am so productive!

#the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskier #well depending on your shipper goggles i guess #500 words challenge #not!fic

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jetaime-jespere · 4 years ago

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Inopportune

An early Sunday morning conversation with @sweetsecretskeptinside about what could have happened pre and post Milwaukee inspired this little thing. It was meant to be a lot shorter, but you all know brevity isn’t my strength. This is rated M for smut!

As they say, timing is everything.

When Aaron slams the front door shut, he knows his marriage is over. Maybe not officially, but it’s the beginning of the very end.

He purposefully ignored Haley’s final ultimatum, once again choosing this job over his family. And it’s not even the hurt on her face that lingers in his mind as he throws his bag into the front seat, but the fact that he didn’t even hesitate to make the choice he did. The disintegration of their marriage has built over time, an almost natural erosion of the intimacy they’d shared in the early days. What used to be Haley’s proud acknowledgement of the challenges of his job has turned into shades of resentment. It’s a constant ebb and flow of disappointment and hurt, coupled with the challenge of being rendered a single parent not in name, but in practice. Not to mention, the cold slap in the face of her all but confirmed infidelity. That had been the final straw. The worst part is, it isn’t his marriage that he grieves anymore. Grief is reserved for his son, the one whose life will soon change drastically when the inevitable happens and the papers are signed.

Aaron can pinpoint exactly when things finally spiraled past his control, much to his chagrin. The arrival of a certain dark haired agent less than a year ago, with a box in her hands and a smile on her face. They’d met before, in another lifetime, when she was barely an adult, privileged and proud, while he struggled to be one at all, barely making ends meet but worlds happier than he is now. The turning of the tables nearly makes his head spin.

And even though Aaron knows better, he’s driving to Emily’s apartment with his foot on the gas just a little heavier than usual. It’s technically against protocol to get her address from her personnel file, but he doesn’t have to, because what he’d never tell anyone is that he’s taken her home once before. Once, early on, when she needed a ride thanks to a flat tire. Twice, if he counts the time he drove them all home from the bar after New Orleans a few months ago. He’d purposefully saved her for last, and she’d fallen asleep in the front seat after dropping a very tipsy Penelope off. Emily had blushed with embarrassment when he woke her up, her eyes glassy and ringed with exhaustion, insisting that no, she hadn’t fallen asleep, and of course not, when he suggested walking her up to her door. I can walk by myself, she’d said, stumbling on her own two feet towards her building.

There’s another secret he’d never tell a soul. He kissed her once. To be fair, she kissed him back. It had been a mistake, they’re both abundantly aware of that. But San Francisco had been hell, particularly for her - arson is never easy - and he had a front row seat to her more human side that had stayed so carefully hidden since she’d joined the team.

Aaron offered her a drink in his office upon their return, against his better judgement, when he found her in the doorway with her reports in her hands. He doesn’t tell her they’re a few days late. He’ll cut her some slack on this one. She quickly refused the drink, a nervous shake of her head, muttering something about getting home as she passed over the paperwork. “Have a good night, Sir.” The discomfort in her voice is evident, still unsure of how to read him.

“You did well in San Francisco.” It might be one of the first times he’s complimented her work, at least privately. “This wasn’t an easy case, you know.” His voice echoes through his empty office, and he can’t help but wonder how many more of these lonely nights he’ll have, just himself and a wayward custodian for company.

“None of them are,” Emily says somewhat dismissively with a wave of her hand and a nervous laugh. “But thank you.” She looks tired and drained. “I … appreciate that.”

“I was wrong, you know.” It’s about time he told her the truth. She’s more than proved herself at this point. “You are an asset to this team, Emily. Please know that.”

To his surprise, she doesn’t even crack a grin, just stares at him in surprise, waiting for him to say something else.

“And I’m sorry for not acknowledging that until now.”

She nods slowly, her eyes narrowing just enough to tell him she still doesn’t fully trust him. He can’t explain why it bothers him, or the fact he’ll think about it for hours afterward.

“I’ll walk you out.” He doesn’t have to walk her out at all, they both know this, but he does, just a few inches too close to her than he should. It’s the subtle attraction to her he feels that possesses him to do it, and before he can stop himself, right before she steps into the elevator, he wraps a hand around the back of her head and kisses her, quick and chaste, on the lips.

What he didn’t expect was for Emily to reciprocate, a hand slipping around the nape of his neck. Her lips collided against his, deepening the kiss for a moment that felt frozen in time, yet all too brief. And before he can think it through, she’s pulling away, her eyes on the ground as the elevator doors open, then close, with a metronomic chime.

He stares at the closed doors for a full five minutes after she’s gone.

...

They both knew it could never happen again, and it wasn’t spoken of after that. Sometimes, Aaron has to remind himself that it actually did happen, and the fact that he even thinks of it often is another issue entirely.

And all of that aside, Emily Prentiss had surprised him. He’d all but fought against her appointment to the BAU and reluctantly agreed to give her the chance she deserved, and certainly didn’t make it easy for her in the early days and weeks. It’s a twist of irony that Haley was the one who suggested he give her a chance, for the stress of being down an agent had already taken its toll on the team but mostly him. And now, he can’t imagine the BAU without her.

Aaron knew Strauss would have it in for their team after Atlanta, Manhattan, and most recently, Flagstaff. Mistakes had been made, that he wouldn’t deny. But what he didn’t see coming was that Strauss would have gone after Emily, too. Foreign Service Exam my ass, he’d thought when she came to him with the news. He swallows angrily, yet feels an undeniable surge of pride, for she’d beat Erin at her own game by resigning. Another surprise, Aaron thinks as he makes the final turn onto her street. What he’s about to do is a gamble at best and downright stupid at worst, but it doesn’t stop him from taking the five hundred steps through her building, up the stairs, until he’s standing outside her door, his knuckles tapping against the smooth metal.

Emily clearly wasn’t expecting to see him standing there. The shock on her face is evident when she opens the door, her displeasure of him being there, in her home, even more so.

“Can I come in?”

Emily says nothing but lets him through, eyeing him warily as she closes the door behind him. It’s the first time they’ve ever been alone together, besides the kiss he’s spent months trying to forget. He wonders if she remembers it too. The silence is deafening as he takes a quick look around her apartment. The view of the Capitol is impressive, he notes with interest, before turning back to face her.

“The team needs us. They’re working a case in Milwaukee.” Best to keep it simple, he thinks. The fewer questions she asks, the better. “Gideon hasn’t shown up, and don’t tell me you quit or I put in for a transfer.”

“You put in for a transfer?” She asks with disbelief, still tense.

“They’re both still hung up in the system, so technically we’re both in dereliction of duty by not being there.” He keeps his tone even, reminds himself to keep his eyes on hers instead of letting them trail over her body.

“I’m sorry,” she says pointedly. “I can’t go.”

As he expected. “Right. Sorry I barged in.”

“Wait.” Her voice pierces the air, questioning his ulterior motives. “Can I ask - why are you really here?”

There’s the long answer and the short; he knows she’ll soon figure out both, and for a moment, grapples with his words. “I think Strauss came to you and asked for dirt on me.”

Emily stiffens, her teeth biting into her lip as her foot taps against the floor nervously at the accuracy of his statement. There it is, he thinks. He guessed correctly.

“Why would she do that?”

Aaron patiently explains his theory - the culmination of the drama with Gideon and Reid, Strauss’s desire for top leadership at the bureau, and her face twists into a frown when he reaches the final blow. “I think she put you on our team, and expected something in return.

Her reticence tells him everything he needs to know. “And to your credit, you quit. Rather than whisper in her ear.”

“I told you, I hate politics,” she shoots back, her tone full of contempt.

Aaron remembers that conversation well. It was months ago, back when he was all but annoyed by her presence, unable to admit her talent at profiling and maybe that she did belong on their team, as she insisted from day one. He’d been more than dismissive of her, and yet she’d proved herself time and time again. He’d messed up, and now it’s come to a head.

“Come to Milwaukee,” he presses her, his eyes never leaving hers. The way she bites her lip tells him she’s at least considering his request. Her head tips to the side, revealing her neck, and he swallows because his throat suddenly goes dry. “I’ll make you a deal. If your bag isn’t here, packed, I won’t bug you anymore. If it is, I want you on that plane with me. One more case.”

“I already turned in my badge and gun.” She tries to push him off but he sees right through her, unwilling to leave without her.

“That’s just hardware.”

Emily eyes him suspiciously, knowing he’s won, and she silently curses him in her mind because her bag is indeed packed, on the floor in her bedroom just a few feet away. But then something else catches her eye - something she can’t miss.

“Where’s your wedding ring, Aaron?” She asks coolly, taking full notice of his bare left hand.

The use of his first name could be considered insubordination. But, technically, she doesn’t work for him anymore, having given her resignation to Strauss, and the first thing that comes to mind is how much he likes the sound of his name rolling off her lips.

Not the time, he tells himself.

“Is that why you’re taking on this case?” Emily isn’t stupid - she’s seen the signs that things at home weren’t exactly great for him. His distraction around the team, the indifference when a well-intended question about Haley or Jack was all but brushed over. It’s been like that for weeks, and she’s too astute to not have noticed.

“My marriage is over,” he confirms, the confession ringing in the air.

Emily’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open ever so slightly, at a loss for words. She says nothing, just stares at him for a few long moments, blinking in disbelief.

“It’s been over for a long time,” he adds. “But today … I left. There’s a lot to figure out but it’s done. It’s been done.”

“And you came here?” The expression on her face is one he can’t identify but isn’t sure he wants to. There’s anger and confusion, but also intrigue, as if she learned a secret she shouldn’t ever know in the first place. “Why?”

“You belong in Milwaukee. We both do.” Maybe so, but that’s not the only reason he came here today, despite what he tells himself. He knows it, and so does she.

Emily looks indignant. “But that isn't the only reason.” She’s challenging him, calling him out on what he’s denied since that night in her office, maybe even before that. “Don’t lie to me.”

“What are you talking about?” Aaron swallows nervously, doing his damn best to hide the fact that all he wants to do is exactly what he shouldn’t.

She steps towards him defiantly, deliberately invading his personal space. “I think you know.” There are a million reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s inevitable.

He takes a step closer, the distance between them all but closed, drawing a ragged breath that matches hers. When their lips meet for the second time he knows there’s no chance of him being able to stop things, and what comes next happens before either of them have a chance to think better of it. Aaron’s hands slide into her hair as he kisses her, pulling gently to expose her neck, and he gives her a moment to breathe as he sucks a bruise right beneath her jaw. Emily’s hands push at his shoulders, an attempt to rid him of his suit jacket, and it falls to the ground in a heap at their feet. But the sudden absence of the confines of the material gives him the leverage he needs to wrap her in his arms, and he does, anchoring her against his chest as he takes her mouth again with his own. It’s dizzying, the scent of her intoxicating as he kisses her, his tongue pushing past her lips, delving into her mouth.

Except Emily isn’t passive in her response to him, her teeth clashing against his as he explores her mouth with his own. She digs her fingers into his arms, bites at his bottom lip, sweeps her tongue across his teeth, then shifts to press her mouth to his neck as his hands drift down to the hem of her blouse. Aaron pulls away, running his thumb over her lips, cupping her chin in one hand as he looks her over.

He wants to tell her she’s beautiful but he can’t form the right words, just holds her chin in one hand, pushing her hair from her face as he slips a knee between her legs, applying pressure that causes her eyes to roll back just enough that he keeps it there. The moan that escapes and the buckle of her knees are the impetus he needs to lift her up onto the counter, a pile of mail and loose papers falling to the floor along the way.

Aaron gets his hands to the openings of her blouse, pulling too hard as the fabric tears open, falling around her shoulders. It reveals a practical beige lace bra, something he’s almost surprised to see - he had her pegged as someone who only wore red. But he deftly unhooks the back clasp, letting it fall from her shoulders, and her skin flushes scarlet as she’s bared to him. As he already anticipated, she’s as beautiful, if not more so, than he imagined. He’s done that a few times over the last few months. He palms her ribs with gentle hands, much more gentle than his mouth had been just moments before, fingers dipping between the delicate bones and over soft skin. Emily mewls in his ear, her head tipped to the side as he explores her. His fingers smooth over her breasts, paying equal attention to each as he starts to kiss her again, then bends to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. Her hands grip the sides of his head, holding him in place as his teeth scrape and his tongue soothes, a rhythmic pattern of pressure that starts to blur her vision. Aaron’s hands span across the width of her back, his fingers stroking the delicate curve of her spine as Emily arches into his mouth, pressing herself against him.

“Aaron,” she moans, her heart fluttering against his chin, and it sounds like she’s forgotten to breathe this whole time. And when he fully stands, taking her face in his hands again, his eyes darken with lust as he kisses her, lush and full, one more time.

“Back,” he says, pushing her flat until she’s laying on the counter, hair spilling over the edge, her legs hooked over his arms. She perches on her elbows, watching him intensely with hooded eyes as he unbuttons her jeans with a deliberate slowness. His hands are steady as he drags them down over her hips and past her knees. The muscles in her stomach flutter as Aaron repositions her legs on his shoulders, carefully spreading her open to him. Emily’s back arches up even though he hasn’t even touched her as he presses kisses to the insides of her knees.

“Aaron,” she pleads again, needier this time, her eyes dark and her legs trembling on his shoulders, and when he finally touches his tongue to her clit, she doesn’t even try to muffle the sound that comes from the very back of her throat. He does it again and her hips fly up, her fingers sliding through his dark hair, then gripping his head in place. “Fuck,” Emily chokes when his tongue pushes inside of her this time, her hand dragging down her face as he continues to stroke her with his tongue languidly until her moans become constant, a beg for more. Not that she had any doubt, but he’s somehow better at this than she ever imagined.

“You should see yourself like this,” Aaron says darkly, his lips on her knee as he gives her a moment to breathe, still spread out on her counter. “You are beautiful,” he tells her and he means it, pushing her leg higher as his head ducks back between her legs, this time he sucks her clit between his lips and pushes two fingers inside of her, curling up to press against the spot his tongue had found just moments before. Emily comes almost instantly and loudly, nearly sliding right off the counter as she writhes beneath him. Aaron pulls her up to his chest, wrapping an arm around her back as she shudders against him, her skin glazed over with sweat. Emily kisses him, her hands scraping down his back as she tastes herself on his tongue, smiling into his mouth as he groans. Her arms wind around his neck, his fingers dip in the curve of her spine, a soothing comedown coupled with his voice in her ear.

Aaron is still almost fully dressed, and Emily wastes no time with the buttons of his dress shirt, almost forceful in her attempts to divest him of his clothes. “Careful,” he breathes, his hands closing around her wrists. “I only have one shirt.” He helps her get it off the rest of the way, followed by his pants and belt, and he hisses when her hand wraps around the length of him. Her own eyes widen ever so slightly, and the kiss that he presses to her forehead is reassuring as he surveys her kitchen and living room. He doesn’t want to fuck her on a counter, at least not now. “Not here,” he decides, and with more finesse than he anticipated, carefully gets her legs around his waist and lifts her up. “Bedroom?”

A jerk of her head in the general direction guides him to her room, and with her body wrapped around his, he carries her there, carefully depositing her onto her bed before he settles over her.

“Yes?” Aaron rasps, his forehead pressed against hers as her chest rises and falls in a series of breathy pants, her fingers smoothing over his cheek. Emily nods, giving him the permission he asks for, her legs closing around his hips as hovers above, lining himself up against her. The initial press of him inside, coupled with how sensitive she already is, emits a slight whimper from Emily, her eyes fluttering as she adjusts to the stretch of her body around his. It’s a few moments of complete stillness, careful kisses and gentle touches, his body spread over hers. It takes most of his effort to remain still, giving her those few moments.

“God,” Emily breathes a few long seconds later, when he’s fully seated, her eyes locked on his. At her insistence he moves, a series of tentative thrusts that only leave her needing more, her legs tightening around his back to keep him as close as possible. He begins to thrust faster, every drive of his hips pushing her higher and him too.

“You feel amazing, Emily,” he encourages as her hips meet his thrusts, a rhythm that comes almost easily to them both. “So fucking good.” His movements become erratic as he nears the end, but he’s determined for her to go first. “Come for me,” he murmurs into her ear, lifting her legs over his shoulders in one smooth motion. The change of angle nearly sucks the air right out of her lungs. “Come on,” he coaxes one more time with a firm push of his hips. “One more time.”

Emily gasps then curses faintly when she finally clenches around him, Aaron sealing his mouth over hers to stifle the scream that would most definitely be heard by anyone in the apartment next to hers. The sensation of her fluttering around him, moaning his name, her nails scraping down his back are enough for him to follow suit, and he kisses her once more before tipping over the edge too, spilling into her with a groan.

Aaron buries his face in her chest, Emily’s hands hold his head in place, for another few peaceful moments, ones that will soon vanish.

…

When it’s over, Aaron can’t help but feel inordinately guilty. He isn’t exactly sure why, but the voice in the back of his mind tells him he fucked this up, royally. Not because of what might wait for him beyond the confines of her apartment, but because now she’s a part of the mess he’s in, whether she likes it or not. Just add it to the list.

This shouldn’t have happened, he thinks as they search through the pile of clothes on the floor - some his, some hers - and it’s an awkward, side-stepping dance around one another, the first of many.

“You ruined my shirt, you know.” Emily holds up the torn halves of her red blouse, covering herself with her other free hand. Her skin is still flushed, her hair askew, and he wants to tell her she has other things to worry about right now than a torn shirt. Like the rapidly forming bruise on her neck, thanks to his teeth, or the scrapes that undoubtedly mar the smooth skin of her back, because he’d gone a little too far. It’ll be hard to explain that bruise (and any others that might appear) once they get to Milwaukee.

“You mean to tell me you don’t have another one?” Aaron quips, busying himself with fixing his suit jacket, fastening his belt, taking note of his own appearance in the mirror. There’s a small bite mark on his neck that’s easily hidden by his collar, and a few on his shoulders. She’d given as good as she got, clearly.

Yet no one will suspect a thing. As it should be.

Emily scoffs, rolling her eyes as she disappears into her room, grumbling about it being an expensive shirt, but he barely hears her. Instead, the events of the last half hour replay on loop in his mind, one he won’t forget for quite some time. The tension between them hangs in the air even after the bathroom door closes, the sound of the shower permeating his thoughts.

This all just got a hell of a lot more complicated, and it’s just the beginning.

“Don’t we have a plane to catch?” Emily impatiently taps her foot against the floor a half an hour later, dressed in different clothes - a pink shirt and a different pair of jeans. The marks on her neck are covered, he notices. Somehow he still manages to stare at her, despite his best intentions not to. “Or are you just going to sit there thinking about how you just fucked me for the next thirty minutes?”

By the time Aaron has processed what she just said, she’s already halfway out the door of her apartment, and all he can do is follow her to the car.

…

As he expected, Milwaukee is a mess. Strauss’s presence doesn’t make anything easier, and he certainly wasn’t expecting Emily to take matters into her own hands and almost get herself killed at the hands of Joe Smith. But it’s what happens, and less than twenty-four hours after showing up in her apartment, he watches from a safe distance as a paramedic cleans and dresses the wound on her forehead.

“How’s your head?”

“I’ll live,” Emily says with a wince. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s lying right through her teeth, because she’s clearly in pain, not that she’d ever admit it. “But is it weird I’m glad to be back?”

“I’ll make sure it stays official.” It’s all he can say with the rest of the team hovering close by. He makes a mental note to order her to get medical clearance before she returns to the field as he moves closer to Strauss. She’s clearly ready with a few choice words of her own, having watched them all like hawks as Joe Smith was led away in handcuffs, his son in the back of a police car. There isn’t much to convince themselves this was a win. It’s anything but that - women murdered, a child’s life forever changed. Not at all a win. In fact, it feels like a loss.

As if today couldn’t get any more complicated.

…

Aaron drives her back to her apartment, because once they get back to Quantico, Emily realizes she has no other way of getting home. She’s taking out her phone to call a cab when he’s at her side, a gentle hand pressed to the small of her back with an offer to drive.

It makes her flinch and yet she’s too tired to turn him down; the thought of riding in the backseat of a bumpy cab down 95 makes her stomach churn. So she agrees reluctantly, and sits as far away from him as she can in the passenger seat of his sedan. And history repeats itself once again when she firmly refuses his offer to help her get settled.

Not a chance, she thinks, her mind flashing back to the events of the day before. She’s smart enough to know it’s only a matter of time before it happens again.

...

Emily showers and changes into sweatpants, being careful to avoid irritating the wound on her forehead. It still hurts; she knows it will for a few days, and that doesn’t begin to cover the headache that throbs through her temples. Only when she’s taking another dose of Advil does she hear the knock at the door.

A glance through the peephole makes her blood pressure rise. “What are you doing here?” She sighs tiredly. “You came all the way back to check on me? I told you, I’m fine. I have a headache. I will live.”

“I never left.” Aaron says honestly and simply, shifting from foot to foot outside her door. He feels exposed, scrutinized under her gaze.

“You’ve seriously been waiting outside my door all this time? You don’t think that’s a little … invasive?” She sounds annoyed and rightfully so. He has no right to be there in the first place. Just because they fucked once and kissed twice doesn’t give him those privileges.

His jaw flexes, a hand runs through his hair. “I sat in the car for a little while.” Admitting it sounds a lot worse than he anticipated. In fact, she looks downright annoyed at his revelation. “Can I come in? Please?”

And for the second time she relents with a heavy sigh, letting him past. “Fine. What the hell is going on?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He stands a little closer than he did before, reaching out with an unsteady hand to touch the gauze pad on her forehead. “I was worried … I am worried.”

“I’ve had concussions before,” she tells him curtly. “This is no different.”

“Then you should know you shouldn’t be alone.”

Emily laughs bitterly, now fully aware of his intentions. “And you think you’re going to stay here? Keep me company?” She waits, her hands on her hips with a shake of her head. “Or are you here because you can’t go back home?”

Aaron opens his mouth to speak, attempting to smooth things over because clearly something has changed since Milwaukee, but she cuts him off again.

“No. I can’t do this. I’m not your rebound until you figure things out.” Her eyes flash with anger, maybe even a touch of regret, which only makes him feel worse about it all. Maybe it should never have happened in the first place.

“There’s nothing to figure out,” he attempts weakly. “That’s not what I -”

“You need to figure things out with your wife, Aaron. What happened between us was a mistake. One we’re equally responsible for. But it cannot happen again.” She folds her arms over her chest, already going for the door to throw him out.

“Emily - “

“Go home, Hotch. I’ll see you tomorrow.” While she wears a brave face, there’s no hiding the disappointment in her eyes, the subtle hurt she undoubtedly feels at knowing all of this was never supposed to happen. Only then does it come to him that maybe, just maybe, she wanted it just as much as he did, and knows it can never be. “And don’t worry. The secret is safe with me.”

He’s about to object - to tell her what he should have already said - when the door slams in his face.

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x prentiss #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #they're not hopelessly in love here #but it's smutty-ish #season 3 #because you know something happened before milwaukee #mile high club or this #criminal minds fanfiction

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sazc94 · 3 years ago

Text

Speak Now

Hello, I am back, with an unofficial entry into the lovely @msmarvelwrites 2k Challenge. This is heavily inspired by her challenge but, but I am also aware I am clogging up her mentions ;)

Speak now Pairs:

Steve x Reader, with brief mentions of Bucky x Reader and Historical Wanda x Reader cause its Pride Month :)

Words, around 6k.

Themes, suggestions of smut so 18+, lots of swearing, angst and heartbreak and some fluff.

Baby, I didn't say my vows So glad you were around When they said speak now

You looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. Today was the day you had been dreading for the last 8 months. Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter’s Wedding. Ignoring the pit in your stomach you smoothed your lilac chiffon dress down once more, before checking your make-up and French-braid updo one last time. You felt sick oh how could he be marrying her? Had you two genuinely meant that little to each other meaning it was that easy for him to marry her?

You felt the tears threatening to spring from your eyes and pinched your nose. The limo was almost here, and you didn’t have enough time to re-do your make up if you started crying now. Plus, you knew deep down if you started crying, you’d never make it to the wedding. As one of Steve's closest friends you knew you had to suck it up and be there at his big day.

Originally, he had tried to convince you to take up Sharon’s half-assed offer to be in her bridal party. You would much rather stick needles in your eyes. So, you apologised to Steve and Sharon (not that she cared or even listened) advising how you didn’t have the time free to commit to such a big thing. Steve had originally been upset looking crestfallen, his baby blue eyes pleading with you. You gave him a small smile before assuring him you would still be there for the wedding.

“Don’t worry about it Steve. I’ll be there on the big day. Would never dream of missing it, especially the opportunity to see Sam and Bucky in suits” you said ruefully. Steve didn’t skip over the fact you had called him Steve. You had always called him Stevie. Well. Up until he had announced his engagement to Sharon.

“Hey Dollface”, Bucky said kissing you on the cheek before opening the door to the car. “Hey Buck, Hey Sam, you two look delicious,” you said shooting them a playful wink. Sam mumbled a small thanks avoiding eye contact with you. Bucky however, took this an opportunity to move closer to you. His hand resting on your thigh. The four of you had been friends since college. That’s why you were riding in the limo with them to the church earlier than most.

The four of you had formed a strong friendship back then. Along with Wanda and Pietro Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff. Bucky and Steve had been childhood friends and you had met Sam at Freshman orientation where he had almost knocked you unconscious during his haste to catch a football.

You and Bucky had a complex history. He had liked you from the moment he had met you, however, you weren’t interested in him. To be fair, you hadn’t been romantically interested in any of the boys, instead, your interest had been caught by one of the red-haired females you were sharing off-campus accommodation with. It didn’t stop Bucky from trying to get you into his bed all through your freshman year though. He had eventually given up in the summer and had never brought it up again after realising his best pal Steve had a thing for you too.

“So, what do you say Y/N, after the wedding, you come back to my hotel and let me make you feel real fucking good again, just like I did all those months back”, Bucky whispered. His hot breath tickling your neck. You instantly felt yourself flush at the memory. Straightening up you removed Bucky’s hand. “Come on James, I told you. It was a one-time thing, never gonna happen again. The only hotel room I will be ending up in is mine”, you said. Determination filling your features.

From across the limo Sam snickered whilst Bucky sulked. “Sure Y/N we all know who’s hotel room you’re gonna end up in and it isn’t anyone in this limo’s” Sam smirked. You instantly felt yourself heat up with embarrassment at Sam’s call out. He was right though. Anytime things got rough for either of you, you and your college girlfriend Wanda always found a way into each other’s beds. You picked at bottom of your knee-length dress before sighing. “Actually, I’m fairly certain she and Vision are in a good place at the moment, and she is bringing him as her date. You examined your fresh manicure avoiding their eye’s.

After a quiet 15-minute ride the three of you arrived at the church. Bucky had been whispering sweet nothings in your ear the entire ride. Sam had ignored you up until you had gotten out the limo. Grabbing you by the elbow he pulled you to one side telling Bucky to go on in.

“Y’know Y/N I always thought it would be you up there with him today,” Sam said sympathy filling his eyes. “I know this day is hard for you. So just know after the wedding if you want to get out of here, I have your back and will cover for you”, Sam continued. His brown eyes boring into you. You felt that familiar lump form in your throat and instead of addressing it you threw your arms around Sam and buried your face in his chest.

“Thank you” you mumbled. You and Sam were great friends, but Sam very rarely showed you physical affection. However, at that moment he knew that the hug was grounding you, so he rested his chin on the top of your head squeezing you tight. Running his hands up and down your back in a reassuring measure.

You stayed like that for about 2 minutes, a few loose tears escaping, that was when you heard Steve and Bucky’s laughter coming down the hallway towards the churches front garden, where you were stood in an embrace with Sam. You stiffened before withdrawing from Sam’s embrace. You shot him a small sad smile, before shaking your head and running off before Steve had a chance to talk to you.

You knew he would tell you how much it meant to him that you were there. How he was so happy that despite all your history, how you had once again shown up for him. You just couldn’t face him. You had gone out of your way to avoid being alone with him for the past eight months. “Hey, Where’s Y/N rushing off too”? You heard Steve ask as you rushed off the nearby meadow.

Bucky and Sam were obviously a part of Steve's wedding party. Because of this, they were needed at the small church where the wedding was taking place an hour before guests were due to arrive. Steve had insisted on you riding to the church with Sam and Steve in the limo he was paying for. He refused to hear of you spending money on a cab to attend the big day. Especially not when there was plenty of room and you were on the way to the church. Eventually, you had agreed after Steve had worn you down. The goofy grin he had given you had simultaneously made your heart do a somersault and rip further in half.

It was warm summers day in Massachusetts and the little church really was the perfect venue. Well to you, and it definitely was for Steve but you knew that social standing meant more to Sharon, she had wanted the big fancy private venue which seated 500 plus guests in NYC as opposed to the quaint little church with a max capacity of 50.

The long grass tickled your ankles as you entered the meadow, your eyes were instantly drawn to the big oak tree with a rickety wooden swing hanging down. You had at least 40 minutes before you would need to head in. The wedding was in an hour, but you weren’t looking forward to the awkward encounter with Wanda that was waiting for you. The sun was beginning to blaze, and it was even midday. Deciding you had enough time; you undid your strappy beige sandals and ran towards the swing.

You sat on the rough wood, slightly warm from the heatwave MA was experiencing, the rope had frayed and aged but you didn’t care, the sun was fighting its way through the canopy of thick green leaves. You let out a deep breath before kicking your feet along the dried dirt. You leant your head back and closed your eyes, shutting the world out deciding to live in these tranquil moments.

Flashbacks.

You and Steve had been dancing around the sexual tension between the pair of you for the last 3 years. Neither one of you ever daring to make a move. Mostly because you and Wanda were either constantly fighting or fucking. Sometimes both. Okay, mostly doing both. Steve wasn’t much better, every few months he had a new girlfriend and then there were countless one night stands in between. However, it was your final year of college you and Wanda had decided to call it quits for a good 5 months ago.

You hadn’t planned on getting this drunk, originally Sam and Nat were coming over to your apartment for some drinks to check out your new place. But then Sam had asked to bring this girl he was dating Jane, and Steve had heard from Nat about the get-together, pleading with you the be included.

So that was how you had ended up drunk as a skunk belting out cheesy pop hits on your old PlayStation sing star. Natasha had left long ago, claiming she had a paper to write, Sam and Jane were snuggled closely on the small sofa.

“Come on Y/N sing You’re the one I want with me,” Steve said trying to pull you up from the floor. You whined and wriggled your wrist free-falling back on the cold laminate floor. The sudden movement made Steve lose balance as his feet had been on your toes.

“Stevie, now look what you did” you giggled as the blond hottie fell on the floor opposite you. “This never would have happened if you’d just agreed to sing with me Puppy” Steve replied pouting. Puppy. He called you that claiming you had the biggest puppy dog eyes and energy of a 6-month Puppy all the time.

“I told you, I don’t sing duets anymore jerkwad,” you said shuffling away from the blonde. Steve decided that he didn’t like this much and pouted. You let out a small involuntary giggle. This only seemed to upset Steve more, deepening his pout and raising his eyebrows, he let out an exasperated sigh.

The mixture of Steve’s adorable pout, the tension between you and the alcohol was too much and with that, you broke out into a fit of giggles rolling about on the floor. Your T-shirt etched up as you moved to try to quieten your giggles, showing flashes of your skin to Steve. Your giggles were intoxicating, mixed with the wafts of your favourite body spray, the way you screwed your eyes up when you laughed, and with the way your shirt was etching higher and higher, Something in Steve snapped.

In one swift movement he caught your wrists as you rolled over so you were on your back, pinning them above your head with one hand, his other holding your left leg in a bent position, Steve was on top of you using your leg to prop himself up so he wasn’t crushing you. Your eyes caught Steve’s baby blue eyes. You swallowed, unable to break the eye contact with Steve.

“Stevie”, you whispered uncertainly. With that, the daze Steve was in broke and he crushed his lips to yours. He tasted like beer mixed with the fruity makeshift cocktails you’d made when the beer ran out, his lips were slightly chapped.

His kiss started of hungry and frantic, you returned the kiss, drinking in all the sensations. The pressure on your wrists loosening as the kiss melted into a softer, gentler, more loving kiss. After a few moments, the kiss stopped and Steve drew back, You didn’t move, just as stunned as him.

You could see the blush slowly creeping over Steve's face, so you leant in, closing the small distance as Steve's face still awkwardly hovered inches above yours.

“I think we should kick Sam and Jane out” you whispered shooting him a sly smirk. Steve's blush deepened. He nodded his head and slowly drew back. Once standing he offered his hand to yours to help you up.

After Sam and Jane left you and Steve spent the entire night fucking each other senseless. It was the start of your 4-year relationship. You and Steve were practically inseparable for the rest of your time at college. You already were before that night, but after the kiss and the events that followed you two became insatiable for one another.

You were so caught up in your flashback that you didn’t hear Bucky calling your name. “Earth to Y/N,” he said waving his hand frantically in front of your face. You were so taken by surprise you couldn’t help but let out a small shriek, to which both you and Bucky burst out laughing. “Jesus H Christ, Bucky! You almost gave me a heart attack”. You said shooting him a toothy grin.

“Sorry Y/N, Steve sent me out here to look for you, he just missed you earlier, said he wants to speak to you and get a photo of the four of us,” Bucky said. You felt your heart squeeze, you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t talk to him before the ceremony, you just didn’t trust yourself. You didn’t realise it but you had started crying. Bucky caught it before you did. Pulling you up from the swing he enveloped you into a huge hug.

“Hey, hey, it's okay. Bucky’s got you. Don’t worry I’ll make up some lame excuse about you fixing your hair or makeup or something, don’t worry doll. Sam and I are gonna get you through this day and once the weddings done, we are going to get super drunk. It may be an open bar, but Sharon’s Daddy is paying for it”, Bucky said rubbing soothing circles on your back. Unable to speak or else the damn would completely burst you simply just nodded into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky stayed hugging you for about 5 minutes before heading back off into the church, you both knew that if Bucky stayed around too much longer, Sam or more likely, Steve would come looking for you both. As you watched Bucky jog off your phone buzzed.

Hey Babe, can’t wait to see you. Visions looking forward to it too, according to his sat Nav we should be arriving in 10 minutes. See you soon! Xx P.S I hope you’re wearing something sexy for me 😉– Wanda x

Of course it was Wanda, she didn’t need to sign of her text with her name. You still had each other’s telephone numbers. You dropped yourself onto the floor, not caring about the dried dirt around the tree. You knew this was going to mark your dress but with Wanda acting up now, you were well past the point of giving a flying fuck.

You leant your head back on the tree before uttering out a string of expletives. Attending your ex-boyfriend’s wedding was hard enough without your college girlfriend attending too. Wanda was happy (mostly) with Henry aka Vision (god what a pompous nickname). However, that never seemed to stop Wanda and you falling back into each other’s beds. Or Her sending texts like this whenever a group of you got together.

Flashback

“Steve, look at me, please. Say something. This isn’t something I’m choosing to do lightly”, you pleaded for Steve to look at you. Your Grandma in England was sick, she had been given a year, two max to live. Your mum hadn’t been around much for you growing up and your Grandma had practically raised you with her Son (your dad), you had chosen to go back to England to be closer to her during her final year.

“Stevie, please baby. This has nothing to do with you, or me, or us. It’s just the woman practically raised me and I want to be there for her. It will be a year, two max. You can always come visit, I’ll be over to visit, We can make this work. Just please say you want it to work”, you were practically begging by this point. Tears were falling down your cheeks and the man who held your heart in his hands and had the power to stop all the pain stood there at the opposite end of your shared apartment. With his back to you.

“What do you want me to say Y/N?!” Steve's voice came out in an accusing whisper. He still made no motions to turn to face you. “Of course you should be there for her during her final moments. But a year, maybe two? We have a life here, an apartment. I have friends here, Sharon, Sam, Bucky, and Thor. Hell, Nick even said I might even be up for a promotion in a month or two.”

You didn’t miss the fact that Sharon who had been eyeing up Steve since joining Fury’s Law firm 8 months ago was suddenly included in that list of friends. Steve was oblivious. But he wasn’t that oblivious. He knew mentioning her would hurt you. And he was right it did.

“You know what Stevie, I get that. That’s why I’m not asking you to come with me for the whole time, I’m just asking you to come over for two weeks whilst I get settled and then to do the long-distance thing for a while. But if your Friends and possible promotion are that important to you, Then forget it”. You grabbed your phone, the overnight bag you had packed and stormed out of the apartment.

You waited in the rain for 15 minutes, wishing for Steve to chase after you. He never did. So, you called Wanda and asked if she would mind lending you her sofa for the night. You had booked two tickets for a 6 am flight, believing that your precious Stevie would of course come with you to visit your family during this difficult time.

Spoiler alert, Steve didn’t show at the airport the next morning, he also spent the next 3 days avoiding your calls.

Eventually, Steve did apologise. But by then the cracks had formed and the damage had been done, after 5 months you called it quits. 4 Months Later Steve was dating Sharon Carter. You arranged with Wanda and Sam to mail back your key and have your belongings collected. Sam had offered to store them at his apartment in his spare room.

Your phone buzzing beside you pulled you from your flashback. “Natasha! No, I am here, I’ll meet you out the front of the church in a few moments.” You said before hanging up the phone. Showtime folks.

You stood, steadying yourself against the big oak tree before slipping your sandals back on one by one. You checked your reflection using the screen of your phone. Dusted the back of your dress down and plastered that well-known smile on your face before heading back over to the church.

As you approached you spotted the two familiar redheads, Natasha’s a deep red which blazed in the sun, whilst Wanda’s was a lighter shade which almost reflected the sun off of it. Also amongst the group of familiar faces were Pietro and Carol from college. Thor one of Steve's colleagues you liked him, his brother Loki who looked like he was about to melt in the sun, and of course the elusive but well renowned Nick Fury.

These weren’t the only familiar faces in the crowd. Sharon was one of the top socialites off New York, Reed Richards and his Wife Susan were in attendance, their two children were also here, Valeria and Franklin you had heard they were part of the wedding party.

Bucky and Sam appeared at the group shortly before you did, allowing you to slip in beside Nat and Thor. On the opposite side of the small circle like shape Wanda stood hanging off her partner Vision’s arms. She of course spotted you right away and broke through the group squealing your name with excitement.

“Y/N Baby, how are you? You look gorgeous in that dress if I may say so myself!” Wanda said pulling you into a hug and then kissing you on the corner of your mouth. Her lips the brushed against yours ever so slightly before she bounded back over to Vision.

Vision hadn’t missed her antics, but he like you had an unspoken agreement that when Wanda was in one of her giddy moods to just roll with it. He brought two fingers up to his head and half saluted/waved in acknowledgement of your presence. You smiled at him back. He was a good guy; it just didn’t help having their relationship shoved down your throat by Wanda every time you two spoke.

After a few minutes of catching up and posing for group shots with Sam and Bucky, everyone made their way inside. Sam and Bucky both shot you a reassuring smile before they headed of the end of the aisle.

“So Babe. Tell me what’s new? Any more saucy rendezvous with Bucky Barnes” Natasha asked as you all sat down on the pews. Somehow your plan to end up in the middle of the small pew did not work and you found yourself on the end of the pew closest to aisle. Oh well at least you were sat next to Natasha who in turn was sat next to Thor and then Nick. Wanda was sat on Separate pew behind you and was the opposite end of her pew. (one less ex to stress about)

“Nat” you hissed. “I told you, that was a one-time thing. Not even Sam knows. So, keep your mouth shut!”, you said rolling your eyes. Natasha was never one to take orders kindly, so she shifted around in her seat to talk to Thor and Nick.

Flashback:

“Sharon and I are engaged” Steve announced to the small group of you who had gathered at Bucky’s apartment. He made this announcement whilst avoiding eye contact with you (because of course he would). Nat and Sam jumped up to congratulate Steve. Bucky sat down next you with a cheerful grin. You felt your heart break, but you would be damned if golden boy wonder got to see that.

“Exciting news, aint it doll, you gonna be my date? I look mighty fine in a suit if you ask me” Bucky drawled. You looked up his ocean blue eyes and how they shined with such affection for you. You smiled at him before grabbing his beer and taking a long gulp. “Certainly is. Oh I don’t know Buck, I might ask Wanda or even Nat to be my date.” You replied shooting him a wink.

Bucky rolled his eyes, this was all part of the course with the pair of you two, he would flirt, you would joke back but never really return the favour.

After the five of you had all settled back down and congratulations had been shared, you checked your phone, half an hour had passed. Sufficient enough time to leave without making it look like you were leaving because of Steve’s announcement. Which of course you were. You grabbed your jacket from the back of your seat. Said your goodbyes to Bucky and Sam. Kissing them both on the cheek, Natasha had excused herself to make a call, so you would text her your apologies for missing her when you got home.

“Congratulations again Steve, I’m happy for you.” You said forcing yourself to sound sincere. The fact you had called him Steve and not Stevie hadn’t been missed by the three gentlemen at the table. Sam and Bucky shifted uncomfortably whilst Steve forced a small smile onto his lips.

You’d only been back in NYC for 3 months, so you were renting Sam’s spare room. You knew he wouldn’t be home for ages yet. No doubt he would stop of at Leila Taylor’s hotel room for the night as she was in town. So, when you heard a knock on the apartment’s front door 2 hours after leaving Bucky’s you were confused. None the less you opened the door. You expected it to be anyone but Steve.

“Steve!?” You tugged your robe around your body tighter. “What’s wrong? Is Sam okay?” You asked opening up the door inviting him in.

Steve shifted, his muscular frame feeling too big for your apartment. Avoiding your eyes he walked into the kitchen he helped himself to a beer he knew you and Sam stocked in the fridge. Steve was here often, especially for a regular Monday night boys night, recently you had been avoiding being in the apartment on a Monday night. Steve let out an exacerbated sigh and pushed one if his hands through his mess of blonde locks. Suddenly the tension between you cracked and Steve's usual happy demeanour clouded over.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Y/N?” Steve asked pointedly. “You’ve practically avoided me since you got back, I know you try and stay out late on Mondays, so you don’t have to face me. I tell you I’m getting married and you practically bolt out the door?!” his tone accusing.

“You left Y/N. You made the decision to go to England. You walked out the door that night” he said. The anger in his eyes and voice made you feel small. Steve had never been like this with you, never in all your years of friendship.

“You couldn’t even pretend to be happy for me Y/N?” Steve asked looking around utterly broken and wrecked. Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet yours. You stood there, tears in your eyes, arms wrapped around your body tight, you were trying to disappear. Where did Steve get off? Yes, you had left, but for Christ’s sake, Steve had practically pushed you out the door.

You felt all your resolve crack away. Fuck this he didn’t get to stand there and make you feel like the bad person. So, without a word. You walked over to Steven Grant Rogers and slapped him. Steve stood there shocked. You felt shame, anger, embarrassment, and most of all hurt, and with that your heart broke completely in half and you ran into your room sobbing.

Steve realised he had fucked up and ran after you, but you were too quick and shut the door on him locking him out. Steve sat outside your door pleading for you to let him apologise. You couldn’t hear him though, the sound of your blood pulsing in your ears and your heartbroken sobs drowning him out. Eventually you must have fallen asleep because when you woke up it was 2am and you were still in your clothes.

The next morning Sam had informed you that when he had returned Steve had been sat outside your bedroom door. He didn’t ask any questions but told you that Steve had asked if you would meet him at the Starbucks down the road for breakfast at 10. He also silently handed you a note.

You had met Steve that morning and accepted his apology, but your friendship would never be the same. Probably not helped by the fact that the night after Steve had announced his engagement, you went back round to Bucky’s with the intention of letting him fuck your brains out

Anticipation was building and you saw Sharon’s snotty family dressed in pastel, her mum made a mad rush along the side of the church pews, trying desperately not to get caught. It looked like one of the bridesmaids had left the bouquet behind. You couldn’t help but smirk. Certain that Sharon would be yelling at said bridesmaid somewhere in a back room. Such a shame how things always happen to the nicest of people you thought.

Natasha had stopped giving you the cold shoulder now and just as you and Thor were winding her up about her latest conquest the organ started playing. A hushed silence fell over the church, and everyone stood. The organ switched to the bridal march, all though to you it sounded like a death march.

Whilst everyone watched Sharon float down the aisle like the pageant queen she truly was. You let your gaze wander over to Steve. God he looked handsome in his tux. The black fabric stretched taught around his muscular frame. His usually deshelled blonde hair slicked back just slightly. You also let your gaze wander over to Bucky and Sam.

You couldn’t help but feel a stab of pride with the way they stood there in their sharp suits. Standing up straight and tall. Bucky’s usually loose long brown hair tied up into a neat man-bun. Sam’s presence could be felt from where you were sat a few pews from the back of the church. He always did know how to command a room. Just as you felt a small smile tug on your lips you flickered your gaze back to Steve. His eyes caught yours and your smile fell, and you felt that familiar ache in your chest once again.

The wedding started and everyone sat down, you fixed your gaze onto Bucky and Sam, not daring to let yourself look at Steve and his blushing bride. Everyone cooed about how beautiful she looked, and how handsome Steve was. Sharon’s family wiped away tears, you had blocked out the majority of what was being said focusing on the click of the cameras from the wedding photographers.

Then began the part you were really dreading. The Vow’s. Steve and Sharon exchanged vow’s nothing personal about them at all just the standard, I Steve rogers blah blah. You couldn’t help but feel your heart tighten a little when he slipped the ring on Sharon’s finger. The next few moments became a bit of a blur. Natasha had her hand on your leg in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

However, it seemed to spur you on for when the Priest spoke the words: “Speak now, or forever hold your peace” you stood up with shaky hands. Everyone’s eyes turned to you. Oh fuck what were you doing?! You were about to feign a medical emergency when you caught Sam and Bucky smirking out of the corner your eye. Their nods so slight that you almost missed them.

You didn’t need to look at the faces around you to know most of them were horrified, you were certain a few of your friends were putting it on for show, revelling in the drama. However as your eyes caught Steve’s, a look of hope flickered across them.

“Don’t marry her Stevie”, you said your voice barley a whisper. You had never been one for being the centre of attention in big crowds. You could feel yourself getting flustered. “What, the fuck, did she say?” Sharon screeched. Steve didn’t seem to be listening though and his baby blue eyes never left yours.

Taking a deep breath you continued “Don’t marry her. I know this is selfish, but she doesn’t love you, not the way I do” You stepped out into the aisle. No matter the outcome of this sudden outburst you were going to want to make a quick exit. “Fuck Steve, outside of your status, I bet she doesn’t know the first thing about you deep down, not really, not like I do” “You love summer, but not because of your birthday being in July. No, you love how everyone seems to always be happier in the sun. You prefer Winter over spring or fall because you love the way the nights draw in making you feel cosey as you curl up with a book. You’d also never admit it, but you’d take a bullet for Both Sam and Bucky, if it meant they got the chance to be happy. And lastly, you love the smell of sunscreen over anything else, because it reminds you of simpler times at the beach with Bucky when you were both younger” you were rambling now, and you struggled to stop.

Everything stood still, Bucky and Sam were now grinning like idiots. Steve stood at the end of the aisle mouth agape and Sharon was just in full on meltdown mode. Sensing that you may have just made the biggest mistake of your entire life, you went to leave. Something stopped you, the urge to address Sharon.

“He gets stressed every year around the anniversary of when Bucky went missing for 4 days on a hike up a mountain.” You said spinning around to face her.

“He still blames himself even though he was found thanks to Steve. He shuts down, but if you wrap him in a blanket and play old movie’s he’ll start to open back up” the tears in your eyes were falling faster than you could dry them. You were so busy staring at her you didn’t see Steve stalk up the aisle towards you.

“One last” you turned to face Steve again, however you were cut of by the feeling of his warm lips crashing on to yours. His hands cupped your face. “Shut up Y/N” he said pulling away. He grabbed your wrist and took of rushing back up the aisle towards the exit dragging you behind him.

The church erupted into chaos as Sharon screamed for Steve to come back. Many talked about the disrespect and tutted. Bucky and Sam whooped and cheered; a few people clapped in that slow confused sort of way. It was all a blur as Steve moved quicker than he ever had in his entire life. You were still in a daze. You couldn’t quite believe you had interrupted a wedding.

Steve moved off to the side of the church his grip on your wrist tightening as he fumbled in his pocket, it was like he was looking for car keys. Suddenly he remembered where he was. What he was wearing and that he was in a tux and did not in-fact have keys on him. However, the limo he had paid for to bring you and Sam and Bucky to the wedding could be seen just down the lane from the church.

Steve turned to look at you, before shooting you a wink and he took of running, you nearly stumbled over your feet trying to keep up. The driver seemed a bit a taken a back as Steve opened the door and pulled you in behind him. You still couldn’t hear anything as your heart was beating out your chest so loud you were surprised Steve couldn’t hear it.

Steve rambled of an address to the driver of the limo, assuring him that he would still get paid for the unplanned journey. The limo set off and Steve settled into the seats pulling towards him so that you had no choice but to straddle him. Finally, your heart beat slowed enough for you to process everything, and with that you started crying again.

He was yours again, after all this time, after all the heartbreak and angst he had chosen you. You didn’t believe it, which is why you were crying, certain this was a daydream, and you would once again snap out of it and find yourself back in the church.

Steve pressed his head towards yours, pecking gentle kisses on your nose, cheeks, and forehead, as if he seemed to understand what you were thinking. He opened his mouth.

“Baby, I didn't say my vows, So glad you were around, When they said speak now”

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