#pendant lighting guide

[its-foyjul]

A Comprehensive Guide to Pendant Lights

Pendant lights are a versatile lighting solution that can be used in a variety of rooms and settings. They are typically hung from the ceiling and provide direct light to a specific area. Pendant lights can be used to create a focal point in a room or to provide task lighting for a specific area, such as a kitchen island or dining table.

Types of Pendant Lights

There are many different types of pendant lights available, so you can find one that is perfect for your style and needs. Some of the most popular types of pendant lights include:

Glass pendant lights: Glass pendant lights are a great way to add a touch of elegance to a room. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and they can be used to create a variety of different looks.

Metal pendant lights: Metal pendant lights are a more industrial-chic option. They are typically made from steel or aluminum, and they can be used to add a touch of edge to a room.

Drum pendant lights: Drum pendant lights are a versatile option that can be used in a variety of rooms. They are typically made from fabric or paper, and they come in a variety of shapes and sizes.

Pendant chandeliers: Pendant chandeliers are a great way to add a touch of glamour to a room. They are typically made from glass or metal, and they come in a variety of shapes and sizes.

How to Choose a Pendant Light?

When choosing a pendant light, there are a few things to consider:

The size of the room: The size of the pendant light should be proportional to the size of the room. A large pendant light in a small room will make the room feel crowded, while a small pendant light in a large room will look lost.

The style of the room: The pendant light should complement the style of the room. For example, a glass pendant light would be a good choice for a modern room, while a metal pendant light would be a good choice for an industrial-chic room.

The function of the light: If the pendant light is going to be used for task lighting, make sure that it is bright enough for the task. If the pendant light is going to be used for ambient lighting, make sure that it is not too bright.

Where to Hang a Pendant Light?

Pendant lights can be hung in a variety of places, including:

Over a kitchen island or dining table: Pendant lights can be used to create a focal point in a kitchen or dining room.

In a hallway: Pendant lights can be used to add light to a hallway or entryway.

In a bedroom: Pendant lights can be used to add a touch of elegance to a bedroom.

In a bathroom: Pendant lights can be used to add light to a bathroom vanity or sink.

Pendant Lighting Tips

Use a dimmer switch: A dimmer switch will allow you to control the amount of light that the pendant light emits.

Layer your lighting: Pendant lights can be used to layer lighting in a room. For example, you could use a pendant light for task lighting and a chandelier for ambient lighting.

Use pendant lights to create a focal point: Pendant lights can be used to create a focal point in a room. For example, you could hang a pendant light over a kitchen island or dining table.

[leafith]

For Sky Lore Fans - The Guide's Reunion's⁠

🍄‍🟫🔷🪻: heyyyy y'all uhm how are you??? :DD Someone, which is not me but is Leaf, wanted to introduce to you a thing that she created while writing her Sky: CotL Fanfiction, Fly Until You See The Light, and that has been going on for a while without you knowing. Soooo Leaf, here is your chance to speak.

🌿📜🫀: alright, thank you, colleague. First of all, I warn you, people. Since the beginning of my Sky story, you can see that it's an AU that tends to be the closest possible to the real game. Thought, it's still an AU, and many things that are NOT CANONIC and just theories exist in there.

Now, we can proceed.

Down here, you find a screenshot of the Chapter 13 of the Prophecy part of my story!

Some of you may wonder: what is a Guide's Reunion? How does it work? That's what I'm going to talk about!

A Guide's Reunion is nothing but a meeting where all the Seasonal Questgivers/Guides organize new Seasons, Events and more. So, I can also say that I've been Daydreaming about some scenarios, and my mind has brought me to the conclusion that the Guides are a full group of chaotic beings and good old friendships.

There is a difference between Seasons and Events, in the Reunions: the Seasons are a more delicate issue, so the Gods create them as ideas and tell the Guides to organize them (such as discovering more about Spirits and the Questgivers if they're already in their area, and more...). About the Events (such as Days of Nature, Days of Style...), which are easier to make and smaller, the Guides create them and organize them on their own.

The Reunions are every two/three weeks, but the time depends mostly on the needs and ideas of the members!

Now, about the Seasonal Questgivers/Guides, I'd like to add some more information.

Every Guide of every Season participates to the Reunions.

Despite this, there are some special cases... And these are the Little Prince Season, Shattering Season and AURORA Season.

These Seasons are not randomly chosen. They have something in common: none of them has got a Sky Person as Guide. The Little Prince has got the Rose, the Shattering has got the Shattered Diamond, AURORA has got an Aurora statue/sculpture (?). So, who participates at the Reunions for the original Guides?

The answers can be two, in these cases. AURORA and Little Prince can be represented by a Spirit of their Constellation. The Spirits of the two Constellations alternate among themselves to participate in the Reunions. But what about Shattering? They have no Spirits, they don't even have a Constellation, if I'm not wrong.

A Messenger of the Stars joins the Reunion for them, and they try to help the Guides.

✷ A Messenger of the Stars is a being that is very similar to Skykids. In fact, the Messengers are Skykids, but they are more related to the Gods and the Elders. They look like normal Children of the Light, but they are known for having the AURORA Blue Wings and/or the AURORA tiara. Their purposes are the following:

To organize expeditions (and participate in them) with magic functions that may be connected to the past, the present or the future of the Sky Kingdom;

To look after the Sky Creatures, if necessary, and to always protect them from the Hunters (just people who hunt the creatures);

To discover the meanings and the hidden stories behind the ancient murals in the Kingdom;

Adding a fact about them, they tend to be good musicians, healers, and they can be good teachers and warriors.

This is an example with an original Sky OC, Guwa. ✷

Now, let's go back to the Reunions topic.

When the Guides are at the Reunions, they can't stay at their area at the same time. So, they can choose between being temporarily replaced by a Spirit of their Constellation to help the Children to complete their Seasonal Quests, or to make the Quests be closed until they come back.

I've told you all a lot about the Present, but what about the Seasons in the past?

Some centuries after the Darkness, the Corruption and the King's fall, the Season were created by the Gods to keep the population united. Children of the Light were already starting their journeys at the age of thirteen, and the Seasons helped them to make new friends more easily.

Sadly, after some time, the Seasons were forgotten because nobody had written informations about them. The first Guides disappeared for choice of the Gods, and they've never returned.

Well, that was until a recent time (that we can also see as 2019, the beginning of the Seasons). The Darkness, angry and mad at Megabird, decided to make a joke on her and gave life to the Season of Gratitude. Megabird wasn't happy about it at first, but she then saw how powerful the Seasons have always been. So, she didn't stop the cycle anymore.

✷ This is also the reason some of my OCs don't have a star sign, which I've seen in the @theweeklylight 's most recent posts.

A star sign is like a zodiac sign, and you can find it in the blog I've tagged. ✷

Fun Fact before continuation

The "before Aviary" Guides usually make friendly jokes about the "after Aviary" Guides. Things like: "Back at my days, ...";

The cycle of the Pendants

The Pendants are the Seasonal necklaces that Skykids can unlock with the Pass during the Seasons.

In my AU, the Seasonal Spirits that have got a Seasonal Pendant are willing to be "secondary Guides", helpers that can participate at the Reunions. When all the Spirits of a Constellation have the Pendants, they all can participate.

The number of Spirits can change, of course. Here is some example:

Season of Remembrance -> Bereft Veteran and Wounded Warrior have the Pendants;

Season of Passage -> Melancholy Mope has the Pendant;

Season of Abyss -> Bumbling Boatswain has the Pendant;

Season of Flight -> Lively Navigator and Light Whisperer have the Pendants.

The Elders wanted to replace the old Guides with this cycle of the Pendants, but no Guide has ever let the group and nobody ever will.

✷ Oh, also, Passage Guide is very sensitive about one of his adopted Children being an helper ✷

So, I can finally say that I am finished with this topic :) I hope you all enjoyed this little essay (can we call it like that?), and I hope that this will be appreciated by the Lore Fans.

Bye bye, Sky People!

[confusedskykid]

If my sky kid were released upon the ancestors full force I think they’d be a public enemy and wildly known as

“DONT LET THAT ONE IN-“

Why?

Well where do I start—

[swarvey]

how they would propose | sdv bachelors x g/n!reader | part one

-> summary: in game, the farmer is always the one to present the mermaid's pendant to their lover — what if it was the other way around?

pt. 2

a/n: starting with half the boys, i'll be working on the rest of them + bachelorettes after ! i got a bit carried away with elliott's ... but can you blame me?

alex

carries the pendant around in his pocket for a week, hoping the right words will magically find him if he does

(they don't)

definitely the type to lock himself in the bathroom and stare at himself through the mirror while practicing what to say to you

decides to propose during a quiet walk in the evening so he has your full attention and all the time in the world to profess his love to you

alex swears his heart is about to fly out of his chest as the two of you walk hand in hand around pelican town, the sun long gone below the horizon. the street lamps guide the two of you, fireflies intermittently emitting gentle flashes of light.

he doesn't even realize you're expecting a response from him until you wave a hand in front of his face, moving in front of him so he's forced to look into your amused gaze.

"alex," you laugh, and his breath hitches, "are you listening? you look like you've been zoning out."

he musters an empty laugh back at you, internally panicking as he desperately tries to recall what you said. "what? me? no, i was just, uh . . ." think, alex, think! you can't mess up now! "i was thinking about gridball." he wants to smack himself.

"really?" you reply, raising your brows. "you're thinking about gridball, now? while i was talking to you about our anniversary coming up?"

shit.

his face pales, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the bridge near the museum. he groans, dropping your hand to run it through his hair — surely he can fix this, right?

"okay, cut the act," you say, worry beginning to show in your features. "is everything alright? what's bugging you?"

"nothing, really! it's just that, uh . . ." alex inhales a quick breath to prepare himself before grabbing both your hands in his. "you know i love you, right?"

"yes . . .," you trail off. you look at him with concerned eyes, beginning to look uneasy. "now i'm really worried—"

"no, no! just hear me out, alright?" you nod. "you know, before you moved here, my view on life was pretty boring," he admits. "all i really cared about was gridball and my grandparents. and dusty, of course, and i guess sam and haley, too—" he shakes his head, blush beginning to cover his cheeks. "whatever, you get what i'm trying to say, right?"

"i'm not entirely sure if i follow," you reply, smiling at how flustered he's gotten. "what are you getting at, alex?"

he sighs. "listen, you moving here was the best thing that ever happened to me. you've shown me there's tons more to life than whatever i was doing before, like giving random gifts to everyone in town just to make them happy, or being a badass and fighting off monsters!" you laugh, and he grins. "anyways, now that i've had a taste of what being with you is like, i don't think i'm willing to share."

your jaw drops as he reaches into his pocket and gets on one knee, opening his palm to reveal a mermaid's pendant.

"will you marry me, y/n? so i can spend the rest of my life learning more awesome stuff from you?"

he nearly collapses in relief when you nod, whooping in joy before engulfing you in a tight hug. after a few moments, he can't help but kiss you strongly, a hand cradling the back of your head with the other on the small of your back. you smile into the kiss, pulling away only to look into his teary, overjoyed eyes.

"aren't you forgetting something?" you tease, glancing down at the pendant that's still clutched in his hand.

"oh, right!" you bend your head forward as he places it around your neck, beaming at the sight.

you hold the jewel in your hand, adrenaline pumping through your blood. "looks like we'll have to plan a wedding," you say, happily pecking alex's cheek.

"yes, this is so great!" he exclaims as he jumps in excitement, unable to control himself. "alright, first, we gotta figure out where we're going to cater food from, but i know grams will want to bake our cake," he rambles, grabbing your hand as he practically starts to drag you home. "oooh, and we should totally ask sam and his band to play something for us! he knows all the songs we like, anyway. i think all the guys will help me get all dressed up, but i bet haley and the rest of the girls would go crazy over helping you pick out what to wear, they probably know better anyway—"

"alex," you interrupt, laughing at his antics, "relax. we'll figure all this out tomorrow. let's just go home." he nods.

"you're right, honey," he agrees, swinging your intertwined hands playfully. "i'm going to need all the rest i can get if i'm gonna spend all of tomorrow bragging about my engagement."

shane

leaves the pendant in his nightstand drawer and looks at it every night before he goes to sleep for nearly a month

he truly never thought he would get married — who would want to marry him, the town drunk?

regardless, the past year with you has proven otherwise, and he knows now there's no one else he wants by his side

he decides to do it quite impulsively one day, literally grabbing it from his drawer and walking to your farm

(marnie nearly faints in excitement when she sees him walk out with the mermaid's pendant in hand, while jas cheers him on)

shane starts to get nervous when he doesn't see you anywhere on the farm, making sure to double-check all the chicken coops and barns before heading toward your house. your pet runs up to him, sniffing the hand wrapped around the pendant curiously.

"got any advice?" he asks jokingly, though he doesn't receive an answer — just a tilted head and wide eyes. "guess this one's on me," he sighs, looking at the jewelry nervously.

"shane? is that you?"

shane nearly drops it as he quickly shoves his hands into his pockets, watching as you step out from your greenhouse. of course, he thinks, the one place i didn't check.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, smiling at his sudden appearance. you're wearing dirt-covered gloves and your hair is touseled and frizzy; shane thinks you're glowing. "dinner's not til later, isn't it? or else i'll need a little time to get ready."

"no, i thought i would stop by a little early," he says. "i had something i wanted to talk to you about, actually." you nod, taking off your gloves and putting them in your bag.

"of course, what's up?" you ask, looking at him with those damn eyes that he could never resist.

"we should get married," he states bluntly, excitement sending chills down his body.

he wants to kick himself as you stare at him, blinking twice before saying, "y-yeah, i guess we should."

he nods, swallowing. "it makes sense, y'know?" he reasons, suddenly avoiding your eyes. "we've been with each other for a while now, and things have been going pretty good." he pauses. "you've gotten me through a lot, you know that? i mean, before you got here, i didn't think anyone in this town gave a damn about me — but you obviously do, for whatever reason, so i'll spend the rest of my life trying my best to be the guy you see me as."

he takes the mermaid's pendant out from his pocket, sheepishly looking at you as he holds it. his eyes are watering with emotion, and by the looks of it, so are yours.

"so, what do you say, honey?" he asks softly. "will you marry me?"

"yes," you reply, smiling as he puts the necklace on you. he laughs in disbelief when he sees you wearing it, still in shock that this is his reality. you roll your eyes, pulling him in for a deep kiss. you cry out in surprise as he hugs you strongly and even lifts you off the ground slightly, his eyes brighter than you've ever seen them.

"i can hardly believe this is real," he sighs, pulling you into his side. "guess i did one thing right in my lifetime."

you slap his arm, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. "you definitely didn't plan this out, did you?"

"huh? what makes you think that?"

"you couldn't even wait until dinner to ask?" you joke. "i guess it wasn't really a question, either—" you laugh as he pokes your side to cut you off.

"don't forget, you're the one who said yes," he retorts, smiling nonetheless. "you're officially stuck with me."

elliott

oh, he's had the mermaid's pendant for months. pretty much since you two got together

he tried to keep it a secret, he really did, but by the time he actually decides to propose, the rest of the bachelors and bachelorettes know

still, he wants the proposal to be for you and you only, so he plans on asking you during an evening picnic dinner on the beach

that doesn't stop him from asking his friends for some help, though

"is this really necessary?" sebastian questions, placing a candle into the sand and creating a pathway to the picnic blanket near the water.

"i think it's romantic," leah sighs, handing him another candle from the box in her arms. "he's been planning and buying all this stuff for weeks now. plus, candlelight always makes things more magical."

"i'm sure the moon will be bright enough tonight to add some 'magic.'"

"the light itself is not our concern, my friend," elliott says, wrapping an arm around seb — who scowls at the contact, but decides to let him get away with it just this once — and waving his arm to show off their setup. "i need this beach to represent a scene of pure love and endearment tonight, for my beloved deserves no less than a proposal for the century!"

"right," seb monotones. "well, the candles are all set up, so i'm heading to the shade."

"you want the speakers over here, el?" sam calls out, holding up one of his wireless speakers at the entrance of the beach.

"i've got one over here, too!" abigail yells from behind the cabin.

"perfect!" elliott replies, grinning as the setting he's been picturing finally comes together. he waves goodbye as everyone begins to head home, turning to the only part of his plan left untouched — the picnic blanket. i suppose the rest is up to me.

-

"are you ready, my dear?"

"elliott, i've been ready for the past twenty minutes," you say, playfully smacking the hands covering your eyes. "can i look now?" he laughs before finally lowering his arms, watching lovingly as your eyes widen at the setting in front of you.

"shall we?" he asks, holding his arm out. you gladly hold on to him as the two of you make your way down the beach, in awe at the candles lighting your way.

"i must be dreaming," you say, shaking your head. "how did you—? wait, where's the music coming from?" you realize soft acoustic music is playing throughout the beach, feeling as if you're in a movie scene.

"ah, that? i asked sam and abigail if i could borrow their speakers," elliott explains proudly. "i also recruited leah and sebastian to help me create this enchanting path."

you laugh. "let me guess, you asked alex and haley to distract me and bring me to the library?" your jaw dropped. "no, and you asked maru and penny to get lunch with me? all so i wouldn't come to find you?"

"i had a feeling my darling would venture to my whereabouts, so i requested the help of our colleagues to keep you away. though i'm sure it was difficult for you, i wanted this to be a surprise," he admits, smiling at you. "do you . . . like it?" he asks quietly, a bit scared he had done too much.

"elliott, this is more than anything i could have asked for," you say, warmth coating your words. "what's the occasion?"

he sighs in relief before replying, "have i ever needed a measly excuse to spoil you, dear?"

"i suppose not," you agree amusedly, recalling all the times you've returned home to a bouquet sitting on your porch.

finally, the two of you reach the end of the path, sitting together on the blanket. a big basket covered with a cloth sits at the center of it, as well as two plates, utensils, and your favorite food.

you shake your head. "this is ridiculous," you state, looking at elliott with big eyes. "how long have you been planning this?"

he hums in thought as he plates your food, pushing it towards you. "that, my dear, is none of your concern," he says, "though, i will say it took quite a bit of strategy. and money," he jokingly adds.

after the two of you eat, elliott hands the basket over to you, trying his very best to contain himself.

"i thought it'd be fitting to get you some gifts," he states, as you begin to uncover its contents one by one.

inside, you find a framed version of your favorite photo with him, a hand-painted mug, a poem, and—

you gasp. "are those rubies?" you ask, a couple red stones glittering at the top of the basket. you pick them up, realizing they're matching keychains.

"courtesy of emily," elliott explains. he hesitates, breathing out lightly before continuing. "rubies signify love and passion, you know, as well as good luck and prosperity."

you laugh lightly, holding up the keychains to the moonlight to see them shine. "perfect, should work wonders for us and the farm—"

"they also symbolize weddings."

you blink, gently setting down the gems as you look at him. he holds out the mermaid's pendant he has been patiently keeping for you, eyes already shining with tears as you gasp.

"y/n, the time we have spent together has been by far the best of my entire life," he starts, "and when i look to the future, i'm afraid i cannot picture one without you walking by my side. you are, and always will be, the love of my life, my shining light, my fairy book tale. you, my love, are my happy ending.

"so, will you do me the honors and marry me?"

you jump into his arms as soon as he finishes speaking, both of you laughing as he happily holds you.

"yes, elliott, of course!" you exclaim. he grins as he holds your face in his hands, covering your face in kisses before finally landing on your lips. your hands run through his hair before you fall backward, elliott landing on top of you with his hand cradling your head. you peck his nose, and he laughs once more before helping you sit up.

"here, let us celebrate with some wine!" he decides, grabbing two bottles he had left in the corner. "shane and harvey said these were the best the winery had to offer."

"you really got the whole town in on this, huh?" you tease, barely containing yourself as he helps you put on the jewelry.

he rubs the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "well, it began with leah, and i thought it wouldn't hurt to tell harvey, but then of course i had to tell—" he stops himself. "secrecy has never been one of my strong suits, has it, love?"

you shake your head, leaning into his arm as you listen to the sound of the music mixing with the crashing of the waves.

"don't worry," you reassure, and he looks down at you with nothing but love in his gaze. "you have plenty of other traits to make up for it."

[buckets-and-trees]

Bird On A Wire

Characters/Pairings: Mafia!Bucky x Millennial Female!Reader x Mafia!Steve Word Count: 4.3k Summary: Caught by two dangerous men, you see the skies ahead for you as their little bird. Sequel to Little Lark.

Content/Warnings: dub-con, explicit smut, cockwarming, oral (male receiving), PIV sex, anal fingering (female receiving), use of pet name (little lark), dacryphilia, so much praise kink

Author Notes: Week eight of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - using the COCKWARMING and dialogue prompts (dialogue prompt bold/italicized) - and filling my May box for Build-a-Bucky Bingo with PRAISE KINK.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The next morning, you were on a flight to New York City. Private jet. In the clothes you’d worn yesterday, but they’d been laundered overnight. You’d slept naked in the bed of Barnes and Rogers - with what little sleep they allowed you to have.

You’d been allowed a few hours of sleep just before dawn and given a modicum of reprieve as the men woke for the day, ordered room service, and got to business. When your laundered clothes had been delivered, they’d plucked you out of bed, and told you to dress and be ready to leave within a few minutes.

You sat stiffly in the plush leather seat. As the jet soared over the clouds, you stared out the window, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The events of the past 24 hours felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from. Your body ached, a constant reminder of the previous night's activities. The sapphire pendant hung heavy around your neck, its weight a physical manifestation of your new reality.

Bucky and Steve sat across from you. You tried not to look at them, but your eyes kept darting over, drawn by some magnetic pull you couldn't explain.

Steve was typing away on a laptop while Bucky leafed through some papers, both of them seemingly unconcerned with your presence. You tried to steady your breathing, to appear calm, but your mind raced with questions and fears about what awaited you in New York.

You couldn't help but marvel at how normal they seemed in the light of day, dressed in crisp suits, sipping coffee. If you didn't know better, you'd think they were just successful businessmen.

"We'll be landing in about an hour," Steve informed you, breaking into your thoughts. "Once we're home, we'll get you settled in."

Home. The word felt foreign. You wondered what kind of life awaited you in New York.

"I… I don't have any of my things," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky looked up from his papers, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't worry, little lark. We'll take care of everything you need."

Steve nodded in agreement. "You'll want for nothing. Clothes, toiletries, anything you require - it's all been arranged." His eyes roamed over you appreciatively. "We take care of what's ours."

You shivered at his words, unsure if it was from fear or something else entirely. The way they looked at you made you feel both terrified and oddly… desired.

But the implication was clear: they had planned this, had known exactly how things would unfold. You swallowed hard, trying to process the level of control they already had over your life.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "And my family? You said... you said you knew about them."

"Safe and sound," Bucky assured you, his tone oddly gentle. "We've already arranged for their debts to be cleared and their protection to be... ongoing."

Steve's eyes narrowed slightly. "As far as they know, you've accepted a lucrative job offer in New York. They’ll believe you’re busy, and you will be.”

"What exactly am I supposed to do?" you asked, voicing another of the many questions swirling in your mind. "You said you don't need an assistant..."

Steve closed his laptop and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Your job, sweetheart, is to keep us happy.”

“In every way,” Bucky added.

You felt your face flush at their words, memories of the previous night flashing through your mind. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting in your lap.

"What does that mean exactly?"

Steve reached across and took your hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "It means you'll be by our side, day and night. At home, at social events, in business meetings. You'll learn to anticipate our needs, to be whatever we require in the moment."

Bucky's eyes glinted as he added, "And in private, you'll pleasure us. Satisfy our every desire."

Your breath caught in your throat. The reality of your situation was sinking in deeper with each passing moment.

"But I'm not... I don't have experience with..." you trailed off, embarrassed.

Steve's eyes darkened, a predatory glint appearing. "Oh, you can. And you will."

Bucky set aside his papers and leaned forward, mirroring Steve's posture. "We're not unreasonable men, little lark. Please us, and you'll find life can be very... pleasurable."

The implication in his tone made you shiver. You remembered all too well the sensations they had drawn from your body the night before, against your will and better judgment.

"But disappoint us," Steve continued, his voice low and dangerous, "and there will be consequences.”

You felt every muscle in your body tense.

Steve’s phone buzzed, and he stood abruptly, dropping your hand and walking away to take the call.

“We’ll start with something simple.” Bucky reached for your other hand and guided you to your feet. The jet's cabin suddenly felt smaller, more intimate. You could smell his cologne - a heady mix of sandalwood and something distinctly masculine.

"Let's see how well you can follow instructions," Bucky murmured, his voice low and husky. His steel-blue eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. "Take off your panties."

Your breath caught in your throat, heart pounding. You glanced nervously at Steve, still on his phone call at the other end of the cabin.

"Eyes on me, little lark," Bucky commanded softly, drawing your attention back. "Steve's busy. This is between you and me right now."

With trembling hands, you reached under your skirt. You hesitated for a moment before slowly sliding your panties down your legs, stepping out of them. Bucky's gaze never wavered, patient but unyielding. Bucky held out his hand and you placed the delicate fabric in his palm. He brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply before pocketing them with a smirk.

"Good girl," he praised. "Now, unzip my pants and take my cock out."

Your eyes widened, darting nervously to Steve again. He was still engrossed in his call, pacing at the far end of the cabin.

“Lark,” Bucky growled, and your eyes darted back to him, the warning clear. “I said eyes on me,” he reminded, bringing his hand to your cheek, and tracing along the edge of your jaw. You knew the tender gesture was a signal that he could grip your jaw and force you to do what he wanted.

You knelt before him, and with shaking hands, you reached for his belt buckle. The leather was soft and supple under your fingers as you worked it open. Bucky's breath hitched slightly as your knuckles brushed against his abdomen. You fumbled with the button of his trousers before managing to undo it, then slowly lowered the zipper.

Bucky's eyes never left your face, watching your every reaction. You could feel the heat radiating from Bucky's body, smell his intoxicating scent.

Your fingers trembled as you reached into Bucky's pants, feeling the heat of his skin. You carefully extracted his cock, already half-hard and impressive in size. The weight of it in your hand made your breath catch. You stroked him tentatively, marveling at the contrast of soft skin over rigid flesh.

Bucky's breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire. "That's it, little lark. Nice and slow," he murmured, voice husky.

You continued your ministrations, feeling him grow fully erect under your touch. Your cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. The cabin suddenly felt too warm, too small. Everything the night before had been the two of them working you while you took what they gave. It was different now with you being the one taking action.

"Enough," Bucky growled softly after a few moments. He grasped your wrist, stilling your movements. "Up in my lap."

Heart pounding, you obeyed as he tugged you up and guided you to straddle his waist. You tentatively braced your hands on his shoulders. He pushed your skirt up and out of the way, before guiding you onto his cock. “You’ll warm my cock the rest of the flight, maybe this’ll help you relax.”

Your trembled and gasped as he pulled your hips down. He found little resistance, as your traitorous body was already growing slick for him, but your cunt was sore from taking their enormous cocks the night before. Quiet tears slipped down your face, but you bit your lip, not wanting to make him unhappy.

He brushed one of your tears away with his thumb and smiled at you, half tender, half patronizing.

Your breath caught as you felt Bucky's cock stretching you, filling you completely. He held you still once you were fully seated, hand gripping your hip firmly.

"There's my good girl," he murmured, brushing his lips against your ear. Then he gently coaxed your head onto his shoulder. "Now, stay nice and still. Don't move unless I tell you to."

You nodded, trying to steady your breathing. The position was intimate, almost unbearably so. You could feel every twitch of Bucky's cock inside you, every slight shift of his body. Your thighs trembled with the effort of staying still.

Steve's voice drifted over from the other end of the cabin as he continued his phone call. The normalcy of his tone, discussing what sounded like business matters, was a stark contrast to your current situation. You felt exposed, vulnerable, even though you were still fully clothed. Your face burned with shame and arousal. You couldn't believe you were doing this, sitting in Bucky's lap with his cock inside you while Steve was just feet away.

When you heard Steve’s footsteps approaching a few minutes later, you tensed.

"Good girl," he praised, one hand moving to stroke your back soothingly. "You're doing so well."

“Isn’t she?” Bucky cooed.

And your body betrayed you again, clenching around Bucky's length over their praise.

Bucky chuckled darkly.

“She like that, Buck?”

"Mmm,” he hummed. “Our little lark is a slut for praise.”

Steve chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Is that so?" Steve crouched down beside Bucky’s seat. His hand came to rest on your thigh, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Look at me, sweetheart."

Hesitantly, you lifted your head from Bucky's shoulder and met Steve's intense gaze. His blue eyes were dark with desire, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Such a good girl," Steve murmured, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. "Taking Bucky's cock so well. I bet you're dripping wet, aren't you?"

You whimpered softly, unable to form words. Steve's fingers ghosted over your clit, making you jerk slightly in Bucky's lap. Bucky's grip on your hip tightened in warning.

"Answer him," Bucky’s town was low but sharp.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, I'm wet."

Steve's smirk widened. "Of course you are. Your body knows what it needs, even if your mind hasn't caught up yet." His fingers continued their teasing exploration, circling your clit with feather-light touches. "You're going to learn to crave this, sweetheart. To need us."

A soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your hips twitched involuntarily, seeking more friction. Bucky's grip tightened further, holding you still.

"Ah ah," he chided softly. "I said don't move unless I tell you to."

"S-sorry," you gasped, trying to regain control of your body.

Steve chuckled, his fingers never ceasing their torturous ministrations, tracing where you were stretched around Bucky's cock. The dual sensation of being filled by Bucky and teased by Steve was overwhelming. Your hips twitched involuntarily, seeking more friction.

Bucky gave a warning slap to your ass, and you hissed from the sting.

You froze, trying desperately to stay still despite the sensations overwhelming you. Tears pricked at your eyes from the effort and the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

"Shh, it's okay," Steve soothed, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. "We know it's hard for you. You're doing so well."

His praise sent another surge of arousal through you, making you clench around Bucky's cock. Bucky groaned softly, his fingers digging into your hips.

"Such a responsive little thing," he murmured, nuzzling against your neck. "We're going to have so much fun with you."

Steve's fingers continued their teasing, circling your clit with maddeningly light touches. Your thighs trembled with the effort of staying still, your breath coming in short gasps.

Steve's eyes glinted with amusement. "I think our girl needs a lesson in true self-control, Buck. What do you say?"

Bucky nodded, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "Couldn't agree more."

Your heart raced as you looked between them, uncertain of what they had in mind. Steve stood, towering over you, and began unbuckling his belt. The sound of leather sliding through fabric loops made you shiver.

"Open your mouth, little lark," Steve commanded, his voice low and husky.

You hesitated, glancing at Bucky, who gave you an encouraging nod. Slowly, you parted your lips, your breath coming in short, shallow pants.

Steve guided his cock to your mouth, rubbing the tip against your lips. "You're going to take me in your mouth while staying perfectly still on Bucky's cock.”

You trembled as Steve's thick length slid past your lips. The taste of him, musky and slightly salty, filled your senses. You struggled to relax your jaw, to accommodate his impressive size, fighting against how it ached from taking them both in your mouth in turns last night, too.

"That's it, sweetheart," Steve murmured, one hand tangling in your hair. "Nice and slow. Use your tongue."

You did as instructed, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock as he pushed deeper into your mouth. All the while, you fought to keep your hips still, Bucky's cock a constant, throbbing presence inside you.

Bucky's hands roamed your body, teasing and caressing, kneading the fleshy parts of you everywhere, as ravenous for your hips as your stomach, your chest, your ass, your thighs . He cupped your breasts through your blouse, thumbs brushing over your nipples. The dual sensations - Steve in your mouth, Bucky inside you and touching you - were overwhelming.

"Look at her, Buck," Steve's voice was thick with desire as he slowly thrust into your mouth. "Look at how well she's taking us both. Such a good little cockwarmer."

You whimpered around Steve's length, the praise sending another surge of arousal through you. Your body trembled with the effort of staying still, every muscle taut as you fought against the urge to move.

Bucky's hands continued their exploration, one sliding beneath your blouse to palm your breast directly. His thumb brushed over your nipple, making you gasp around Steve's cock.

"That's it," Steve encouraged, his grip in your hair tightening slightly. "Just relax and let us use you. This is what you're made for."

Tears pricked at your eyes, a mix of shame and arousal overwhelming you. You felt split open, exposed, caught between these two powerful men who seemed determined to consume and control you.

The plane suddenly hit a patch of turbulence, jostling everyone. You gasped and instinctively clenched around Bucky, causing him to groan. Steve's cock slipped from your mouth as you struggled to maintain your balance.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" you began, panic rising in your chest.

"Shh, it's alright," Steve soothed, his hand gentle at the back of your neck. "That wasn't your fault."

Bucky's hands steadied you on his lap. "Deep breaths, little lark. You're doing so well."

Their unexpected gentleness made your eyes sting with unshed tears. You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself.

"Now, where were we?" Steve mused, guiding his cock back to your lips. "Open up, sweetheart."

You parted your lips obediently and Steve pushed in again, but even deeper into your mouth, the head of his cock nudging the back of your throat. Your jaw ached, stretched wide around his girth. Bucky's hands continued to roam your body, teasing and tormenting, while his cock remained buried inside you. The dual sensations were overwhelming, pleasure and discomfort blurring together.

"Such a good girl," Steve murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Taking us both so well." You whimpered around his length, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Gorgeous,” he added, letting his other hand play through your tear tracks.

The praise sent another surge of arousal through you, your body betraying you once again as you clenched around Bucky's cock. Bucky chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can feel how wet you are, little lark. Your body knows what it needs, even if you’re reluctant to accept your new life. But you’re dripping for us, desperate.”

You felt your face burn with shame at Bucky's words, knowing they were true. Despite your fear and uncertainty, your body was responding eagerly to their touch, craving more. Steve continued to thrust slowly into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. You struggled to breathe through your nose, tears streaming down your face.

"Look at me," Steve commanded softly. You raised your eyes to meet his intense gaze. "That's it. I want to see those pretty eyes while I fuck your mouth."

A muffled whimper escaped you, the dual sensations of Steve's cock in your mouth and Bucky's inside you becoming consuming every fiber of your being, every ounce of your existence.

Steve's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more insistent. You struggled to keep up, your jaw aching as you tried to accommodate his impressive girth. His blue eyes, dark with desire, never left yours as he fucked your mouth with increasing fervor.

"That's it, little lark," he groaned, his voice low and gravelly. "Take it all."

You could feel him swelling, growing impossibly harder on your tongue. The taste of him intensified - salty, musky, undeniably male. Your senses were overwhelmed, filled with nothing but Steve and Bucky.

Steve's breathing grew ragged, his thrusts more erratic. "I'm close," he warned, his grip tightening in your hair. "You're going to swallow every drop, understand?"

You whimpered around his cock, tears streaming down your face.

Bucky's hands continued their torturous exploration of your body, one hand kneading your breast while the other slipped between your legs. His fingers found your clit, circling it with maddening lightness. You moaned around Steve's cock, your hips twitching involuntarily.

"Ah ah," Bucky chided, stilling his movements. You mewled in protest of losing his ministrations to your throbbing clit, but in the next instant, Steve’s hips jerked forward, and he groaned, burying his cock deep in your throat as he began to climax. The first pulse of his release hit the back of your throat, hot and thick. You struggled not to gag, tears streaming down your face as you fought to swallow around his length.

"That's it," Steve growled, his voice strained. "Take it all."

Wave after wave of his seed flooded your mouth, coating your tongue with its salty-sweet flavor. You swallowed frantically, trying to keep up with the copious amount. Some escaped the corners of your lips, trickling down your chin.

Steve's hand tightened at the nape of your neck, holding you in place as he continued to empty himself into your mouth. The taste, the scent, the feeling of being so thoroughly used - it all overwhelmed your senses.

As Steve's release finally subsided, he slowly withdrew from your mouth, a string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. You gasped for air, your jaw aching and your throat raw. Steve's thumb brushed over your swollen lips, smearing the mixture of his seed and your saliva.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice low and satisfied. "You took it all so well."

Bucky's fingers resumed their torture of your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You trembled in his lap, fighting against the urge to move, to seek more friction.

"I think our little lark deserves a reward, don't you, Steve?" Bucky's voice was husky in your ear.

Steve nodded, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "I couldn't agree more."

Before you could process what was happening, Bucky's hands gripped your hips, and he fucked up into you, violently, but you welcomed it with a debauched moan, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he drove into your aching, needy cunt.

Bucky's pace was relentless, his cock driving into you with bruising force. Your head fell back, a strangled cry escaping your lips as pleasure coursed through your body. The change from stillness to frenzied movement was jarring, overwhelming your senses.

Each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your head fell back, mouth open in a groan of ecstasy as he hit that perfect spot deep inside you. The cabin filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and your breathless moans.

"That's it, little lark," Bucky growled, his fingers digging into your hips. "Sing for us. Let us hear your pretty sounds."

Steve's hand came to rest on your throat, not squeezing, just a gentle pressure. A reminder of his presence, of his control. "You're ours now," he murmured, his voice low and intense. "Every sound, every reaction - it all belongs to us."

You whimpered, caught between shame and arousal. Your body responded eagerly to their touches, to their words, even as your mind reeled with the implications of your new reality.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Taking Bucky's cock so well. You were made for this, weren't you?"

You couldn't form words, could only whimper and nod as Bucky continued his merciless assault on your senses. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

"Tell us," Bucky demanded, his grip on your hips tightening. "Tell us how much you love it."

"I-I love it!” you cried.

Without warning, Steve plunged a finger into your ass, and the shock and overwhelming sensation sent you careening into a blinding orgasm. The clenching and convulsion of your cunt made Bucky jerk and then drill into you even faster, spilling his release in height of your climax.

You didn’t realize you were sobbing until Steve began soothing your back, petting up and down, cooing more soft praises as you struggled to stay coherent.

As the waves of your orgasm subsided, you collapsed against Bucky's chest, trembling and gasping for air. Your mind was a haze of pleasure and confusion, your body wrung out and oversensitive. Bucky's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he softened inside you.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You did so well."

Steve's hand continued its soothing motion along your back. "Beautiful," he added, his voice low and appreciative.

You felt tears pricking at your eyes again, overwhelmed by the intensity of what had just happened and the conflicting emotions swirling within you. Shame, arousal, fear, and a strange sense of... belonging? It was all too much.

"Shh, it's alright," Steve soothed, sensing your distress. "Let it out.”

After a few more minutes, once your breathing had finally returned to normal, you pushed back from Bucky’s chest, and made to move off his lap.

He tsked at you and frowned.

"Not yet, little lark," Bucky murmured, keeping you firmly seated on his lap. "I want you to feel me inside you a bit longer. Let it sink in who you belong to now."

You shivered at his words, acutely aware of his softening cock still nestled within you, still so big inside you. Your body felt boneless, wrung out from the intensity of your orgasm, and the sticky mix of your combined spend was weeping slightly around his cock, and you could feel it.

Steve's hand came to rest on the back of your neck, a gentle but possessive touch. "We're going to take such good care of you," he reminded, his voice low and soothing. "You'll want for nothing."

You nodded weakly, unable to form words. Your mind was still reeling, trying to process everything that had happened. You felt fresh tears welling up, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation and your own conflicted emotions. Part of you wanted to fight, to rebel against this new reality they were forcing upon you. But another part - a part that grew stronger with each passing moment - craved their touch, their approval.

"Look at me," Steve commanded softly, finally taking the seat again next to Bucky.

Hesitantly, you raised your eyes to meet his intense gaze. His blue eyes were dark with desire, but there was also a hint of something else - possessiveness, perhaps even tenderness.

"You're ours now," he said, his voice low and firm. "Everything about you belongs to us - your body, your pleasure, your pain. We'll push you to your limits and beyond, but we'll also take care of you in ways you've never imagined."

You shivered at his words, feeling a mix of fear and anticipation. Bucky's hands stroked soothingly along your sides, a stark contrast to the bruising grip he'd had on your hips moments ago.

"We know this is a lot to take in," Bucky murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "You'll learn to love it. To crave it."

As if to emphasize his point, he shifted slightly, and a soft moan left your lips.

Steve leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek. "Remember, little lark. Pleasure or pain - the choice is yours."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Bucky drew a finger over your sapphire pendant, and Steve kissed you, licking into your mouth to taste his tang on your tongue. He didn’t relent until you were gasping for air. Then Bucky kissed your cheek, and Steve pushed your head gently down onto Bucky’s shoulder once more.

And the two resumed their business and idle chatter, while you floated away, exhausted, and your body gave way to peace while you could claim it.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

NEXT PART: Bird Home in the Darkness

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[shaisuki]

cw: werewolf x nun, sacrilegious themes, religious themes, blasphemy, monster fucking, creampies.

werewolves are purged for they are sin and creatures of night that the devil created. taking in the human form and a beast in the night. they were considered to be monsters.

you serve as a nun in the church where they take the suspected individuals where they chain and lock until they transformed into those ugly beasts — the church say and being one of the church's nun you oversee the prayers for these abominations. hoping that a prayer can still salvage their souls over burning in the pits of hellfire and may the lord forgive them.

bright hues of red and orange danced around the room. the torches light guides you to our footing as you slowly descends in the stairs. your white tunic flowing with your every move. the dungeon's a cold and gloomy place with the stones damp and a few vines stretching in the stone marbled walls.

it's a full moon tonight and you will about to see if what the townspeople have captured is a real one. a werewolf. the transformation is finished. that's what you thought as you slowly moved. entering one of the rooms where the beast is chained. you can hear a growl and a snarl. the clattering of chains, trying to break free from its confines.

moonlight streams from the barred windows outside. showing the beast that terrorized the townspeople. confined in this dark, gloomy room without nothing. the chains full on clanging, echoing in the quietness of the night for this supposedly human who transforms into a devil's creation. these poor creatures. there's only one thing you can do for them and that is to pray. taking out your rosary beads and you began to pray.

“f-forgive me oh lord...... for i have — sinned” the words you chant came stumbling. the prayer that should salvage this damned creature isn't being directed to him but to you. the desire was too thick to be ignored like you were eve when she took a bite of the apple.

while preparing for the prayer that needs to be spoken for sincerity to be heard — your eyes went wide — stunned. it wasn't from the for this beast but what entailed between it's legs. it was his cock jutting proudly and you have never seen such huge one at that time. it was long and a girth to match. it may be the same size of your arm. the color of flesh with veins, colors of red and deep purple and a sprinkles of white surrounding like vines around it. a knot forming in the base and it's most prominent feature is the tip, like a mushroom and bulbous. a monstrous cock belonging to someone who's a monster.

the sight of it makes your mouth water. your panties drenched with your slick. it didn't even occur to you that lust is a sin and you have your vows of chastity but it soon flew out in the window along with your white tunic strewn in the floor and freeing the beast from it chains. the rosary beads scattered on the floor.

“— the sin of lust which i committed. the sin of flesh!” you continued the prayer while your hands are clasped together as you bounced on the creature's thick cock. stretching your pussy and filling you to the brim. it's bulbous tip nudging the entrance of your womb. the necklace with a crucifix for a pendant sways back and forth with your every moment as you plead for forgiveness.

the werewolf beneath you growled. holding your wide hips with his clawed hand. the fat spilling from his rough palms keeping you still before moving his hips upwards. fucking to your heat deeper. the sensation of your velvety walls make his tongue loll out from how good it was gripping his fat cock. your juices dripping down into his thick shaft while he continues to plunge into you. creating a squelching sound in the quiet of the room.

you continue to recite your prayer. seeking for forgiveness while you get defiled by this monstrous cock repeatedly bullying your insides. it didn't help that you were moaning in-between your prayers as you fall into a silent scream. the ribbing of his shaft massaging your velvety walls and that includes your soft spot that makes you cream around his girth.

he isn't going to last too. his knot are starting to swell. bulging as the his release gets closer and with a sharp thrust and pulling your fleshy hips meeting his own. his knot pushed inside you before buckets of his warm, white, thick load are filling up your awaiting womb eager for it's release.

“amen.” you weakly moaned out. grinding and pushing his knot deeper inside you. making sure you're completely filled out with his cum that you're starting to get addicted too.

he takes a lick to your round cheek. a somehow satisfied growl rumbling from his chest and with a wet pop. his cum trickling down your thighs. covering his bulbous tip and his shaft with your juices and his. the sight making you moan.

it wasn't the same after that, he fucked you into many positions. breeding you while he folded you into a mating press. you weren't a nun at the time. you were a slut. a wench for his aching fat cock. your fat pussy being repeatedly filled with his thick cum until it overflows. you were left satisfied after that. donning your white tunic and after you left. you let out a scream. awaking all the convent members and your fellow nuns and the priest came tumbling along with their torches.

they arrive at the dungeon and finds your shaking figure and pointing at the broken chains that are used to imprison the creature and only for them to find out it had escaped. they buy your reasons. pretending that you only went down here to pray for the beast before the townspeople execute it.

the full moon will end tonight along with the passionate throes you shared with that creature. you warmly smiled as you lay in your bed. his cum still inside you, sloshing and it made you giddy. you can't wait for the another beast they will imprison, you'll make sure you're getting your cunt stuffed again with its cum and having your hole stretched and your womb filled to the brim.

maybe, you'll go to the woods alone.

[oaksgrove]

Welcome Gift

Pairing: König x Reader

Synopsis: After moving to Austria to live with König, you find yourself overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of a new country. From navigating the bustling streets to adjusting to the rhythm of life in a different culture, your nerves are stretched thin. But König, ever thoughtful and patient, is determined to make you feel loved and at home in every way possible. 

Warnings: none?

word count: 985

Salzburg streets bustled with a quiet charm, the winter air crisp as you and König walked hand in hand. Snow dusted the cobblestones, and warm lights glowed from shop windows, painting the city in hues of gold and white. It was picturesque, but your nerves were a jumble. Moving to Austria to live with König had been a leap of faith, and while you loved him deeply, adjusting to life here was proving to be a challenge.

You found yourself clutching König’s hand a little tighter than usual as you walked. Everything felt so new—unfamiliar faces, different languages, even the way people carried themselves. There was a rhythm to the city, it wasn’t unfriendly, just one you hadn’t quite learned yet, and while it was beautiful, it also left you feeling adrift in an ocean of the unknown.

“You’re quiet,” König said softly, glancing down at you. His Austrian accent, once a novelty when you first met, had become a comforting melody in your life.

“Just… taking it all in,” you murmured, giving him a small smile.

König slowed to a stop, turning to face you fully. His height meant he had to dip his head to meet your gaze, and his piercing blue eyes held a wealth of affection. “If it’s too much, we can take it slow,” he said, his large hand brushing softly against yours. “You’ve already done so much by coming here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his warm smile and the steady reassurance in his gaze stopped you. He leaned down slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Let me spoil you today, ja?”

Before you could respond, König guided you toward a shop nestled between two taller buildings. Its display window glittered with jewelry—delicate chains, rings, and gemstones arranged with care. You blinked up at him, your brow furrowing.

“What are we doing here?”

“I told you,” he said, holding the door open for you. “A proper welcoming gift. Something beautiful to match you.”

You blinked, cheeks flushed at his words, your mouth opening and closing as you searched for a response. A welcoming gift? You’d thought the flowers he brought home every day were already more than enough, but König clearly had other ideas.

The interior of the shop was even more charming than the display outside—polished wood counters, velvet-lined cases, and a faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. A kindly older woman greeted König, her tone familiar and warm as she spoke in German. He responded easily, his voice dipping into the fluid rhythms of his native tongue.

You caught most of the exchange—your German was decent, though far from fluent—but nuances still slipped through your grasp. König noticed your tentative expression and gave you a soft smile. “This shop,” he explained, switching back to English, “is special. My mother, my sisters, even my grandmother—they’ve all come here over the years. It’s where my family buys things for… important moments.”

Your heart skipped at the significance of that statement. “König, that’s—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Now, let’s find something for you.”

He took his time examining the displays, occasionally asking the shopkeeper questions. Eventually, his gaze landed on a pair of earrings— a delicate silver design, teardrop-shaped with a subtle shimmer that wasn’t too flashy. Beside them was a matching necklace, simple yet elegant, with a single pendant that mirrored the earrings’ design. 

Turning to you, he gestured to them. “These. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing. “But König, I can’t—”

“You can,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you to have something from here. So that when you wear it, you’ll remember how much it means to me that you’re here.”

The sincerity in his words left you speechless, and before you knew it, you were leaving the shop with a small, carefully wrapped box in your hands, almost too much to bear. You turned to König, your voice tentative. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already have,” he said simply, taking your hand in his as he led you back into the bustling streets.

Later that day, the scent of fresh coffee and pastries filled the apartment as König emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate. On it was your favorite pastry, carefully chosen from a bakery he’d insisted on visiting earlier. He set it down in front of you along with a cup of coffee and a small stack of German vocabulary cards, each one handwritten with neat, blocky letters.

“I know your German is good,” he said, almost shyly, his towering form seeming a little smaller in the soft light of the kitchen. “But I thought these might help with the little things.”

You picked up one of the cards, your eyes skimming over his careful handwriting. “You made these?”

He nodded. “I want you to feel comfortable. To feel… like this is home.”

Your chest tightened at the depth of his thoughtfulness. “König,” you said softly, setting the card down to reach for his hand. “You’re spoiling me.”

He chuckled, crouching beside you so that you were eye level, his large hands cradling yours gently. “Maybe,” he admitted, his smile warm. “But I don’t mind. I want you to know how much you mean to me. You’ve made my life so much better just by being in it. Now that you’re here, I want to make sure you feel loved and safe every day.”

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, unable to find the words to express how much his actions meant to you. Instead, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was a quiet reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

König smiled against your lips, his hands tightening around yours. “Welcome home, meine Liebe,” he murmured.

[aureum-cordis]

Lost & Found

Parental!DogDay & Child!Reader

A/N: Hey there! First post, I know, but I couldn’t help but share this. A friend of mine encouraged me to, so I hope other people like it as well! This is only the first part and I have much more planned for this story, I hope you enjoy! I know this ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but that may or may not be intentional. Find Part 2 here!

Spoilers for Poppy Playtime Chapter 3: Deep Sleep!

Warnings: Mentions of character death, blood, gore, and the like. Child experimentation will also be mentioned. This story will contain references to the information in the game as well, if uncomfortable with any of those topics then please proceed with caution.

________________________________________________

DogDay and the others knew well that something was amiss in the building, several of the Smiling Critters had sought him out due to the fact that he was the leader. CatNap was the only one that had been distant for a long time now, becoming something that he couldn’t recognize.

And then it happened. The Hour of Joy. The metallic scent of blood was something he could never rid his nose of, his ears still rang from the sound of screaming from both children and adults. The Prototype had clearly been convincing the cat of the Smiling Critters, for nothing but praises fell out for the creature amongst that dreaded red gas that poured out of his perpetually gaping maw.

DogDay had been able to reach the others first, encouraging them to not stand idly by and follow something as monstrous as The Prototype and his newly fashioned pawn.

It ended poorly, their rebellion was met with nightmarish hallucinations and a set of claws that sliced their bodies to ribbons.

Even they were not impervious to the red gas that covered the ground like a dense fog, announcing CatNap’s presence before he could be seen. Few of them remained, far less than what once was. They rotated hideouts regularly, knowing well that they had to keep moving to avoid CatNap’s patrols.

Currently, the place they had sought refuge in was some long abandoned room of the orphanage. Those that remained were silent.

CraftyCorn was frantically drawing something on a dirtied sheet of paper, the colors bleeding against her hooves as she struggled to keep a steady grip.

Bobby BearHug was huddled in a corner, clutching a blanket that was shredded in places and nearly fell apart as she held it to her chest, her body shook from silent sobs or perhaps fear of what would come.

DogDay himself was solemn, resting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. They had just lost Hoppy days prior, or at least it had seemed like days. Any semblance of a concept of time was lost in this pit of despair, the inability to even catch a glimpse of light that wasn’t artificial was disheartening and disorienting. The others in the room were in no state to actively patrol, their minds in shambles and in various states of decay.

There was no optimism to be found, he knew that. Any attempt to even lighten the mood would be met with dismay and the kind of disgust that caused nausea to wash over oneself and clouded any other senses. They had lost far too many for any form of joy to be found.

CatNap may have been the one to end their lives, following the guiding hand of The Prototype, but their blood was also on his hands. Their screams kept him awake, the fear in their voices as they called out and weeped for help kept him going.

Slowly, he rose from his seated position to his feet, the sun pendant that hung from his zipper clinked against the metal with the motion and swung gently before resting against his chest. It was enough of a sound to draw the eyes of CraftyCorn, to which DogDay gave a dip of his head. “I’m sorry to startle you, that wasn’t my intention,” he started, voice rough and scratchy from disuse as he met the eyes of the other.

“I’ll take the first watch, be safe and try to get some rest, please.” The please sounded pathetic in his own ears, a sign that despite his attempts to remain strong for the other survivors, he was suffering from the grief and loss of their shared companions.

The idea of losing them too was something he refused to linger on, a small sliver of hope remained in his heart despite the horrors that threatened their very lives.

CraftyCorn didn’t seem to mind the interruption, even going as far as lowering her hooves as she looked over at him, the red crayon in her grasp rolled to the floor with a quiet thump. “Be careful, DogDay.” Her voice was soft, it was a comfort in this trying time. As gentle as the very petals of the flower she once smelled like, an extension of her kind yet hardy nature.

He wanted to reassure her, to give her some hope that he might return. But that wasn’t a guarantee, he knew that.

Regardless, he nodded before approaching the door, opening it slightly before listening carefully for any sounds. Relieved to have been met with relative silence, he crept through the door before shutting it behind him. Complete silence was impossible for him to achieve, given his size and the overall state of the orphanage itself.

His movements were slow and deliberate, each placement of his hand or foot was mindful of the debris that lined the halls. Shattered picture frames with glass littering the floor and various toys that had once belonged to the children here were a common item to stumble across. There had been moments when the odd toy activated or some rotting piece of wood snapped under the pressure of a bed that rested upon it, but it was silent other than that.

His ears were active in keeping note of his surroundings, as his nose focused on the horrible scent of lavender and the intensity of it. It stuck to every crack and crevice of this building, yet it was relatively faint at the given moment, a positive in an otherwise grim situation. His eyes swept every open door that he passed by, peering into the room for several moments before moving on. To say he was tense and alert was an understatement, every fiber of his being stood on edge as he patrolled the halls.

He froze in his tracks as a sound caught his attention, a sound that he hadn’t been expecting to come across. It had been a sob, a shuddering and weak sound that left from an open door in front of him. Had he not been focused as intently as he was, he could’ve missed it. DogDay stayed in that position as he listened further, making sure that he hadn’t been imagining such a sound. His doubts were shattered as he heard the sound repeat, the fear in the weeping was unmistakable.

The thought didn’t even cross his mind that it could potentially be a trap, that some sick monster would be willing to mimic such a heartbreaking sound.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

My precious Jewel ♧

Bale!Bruce Wayne x soon-to-be wife!reader

A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.

Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy

Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce

Word count: 3.6k

PART 2 ♡

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.

You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.

My beloved,

May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.

Love,

Bruce ♡

You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.

You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.

You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.

A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.

"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.

You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.

Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.

Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.

Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.

You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.

Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.

"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.

His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.

Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.

You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.

"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.

"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.

"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.

He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.

"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.

"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.

"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.

"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.

He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.

They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.

He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.

"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.

Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.

God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.

"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.

"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.

"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.

All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.

The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.

Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.

"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.

"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.

Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.

He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.

God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.

It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.

That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.

"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."

"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.

"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.

Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.

"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."

From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.

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[ultravi0lence14]

White Winter Hymnal

dean winchester x fairy!reader

1.5k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: a trip to a snowy cottage in vermont has dean finding what he truly yearns for.

the forest cottage you resided in glistened in the winter air. snow decorating your roof and brushing against the plants and flowers you had decorated the front steps with. it was december in vermont, and the snowy weather and cold chill sent most of your forest friends to different, more warm climates

you didn’t seem to mind though, having your multitude of indoor animals to keep you company. you didn’t interact with the townspeople, not seeing the need for you to have your animals to keep you company. yeah, you sounded like a freaky old cat lady but you really didn’t seem to mind.

it came as a shock when a light knock was heard on your front door one morning. you didn’t get a lot of visitors, and you noticed your pet dog winnie charging towards the entryway and started barking and growling by the window.

tentatively, you walked towards your front door and slowly peeked out of the peephole. standing on your porch were two men dressed in suits and really long coats. you didn’t know why they were here, for you’d never met them in your life and you couldn’t think of what they would want with you.

slowly opening the door, you peeked your head tentatively through the small crack of your opened door. there was a tall and a short one, both having looks on their faces like they knew something they shouldn’t.

the shorter of the two didn’t even great you, nor did he let you even speak before he was asking his questions very directly “you’re a fairy right?”

and that was what the looks on their faces were for.

your eyes widened slightly, ushering them in as you opened your door a little wider. “how do you know that?” you spoke as you closed the front door behind you, turning around to see the two men standing by your living room.

“we’re hunters, that's how.” the taller one spoke less bluntly than his companion, and he actually followed up with an introduction. “i’m sam winchester by the way, and this is my brother dean.”

you just nod, taking in the two as you guide them over to your couch. sitting down, the three of you just stare at each other awkwardly. you not knowing the reason they are here and both sam and dean not knowing how to go about what they need to say.

finally, after what felt like ages, sam cleared his throat and began explaining why he and his brother were at your door. apparently there was a witch in your town, and according to folklore fairies and witches were very well akin to each other.

they weren’t wrong. witches did use to reside in forest’s, leaving them to be around fairies more often than not. it wasn’t like some sort of sixth sense type of thing. it was more of a spidey sense in hindsight. when you came in contact with a witch, it was like you just knew. and that’s why sam and dean needed your help.

dean watched as you and sam conversed, not being able to take his eyes off of the way you looked when sam mentioned something you knew a lot about. he couldn’t help but marvel at your excitement, see how your face lit up. though, when he saw sam looking at him funny, he had to act cool and like he wasn’t just being a total creep.

“so basically we just need you to join us around town, see where this witch is.” dean’s words were more straight forward than sam’s, but you really didn’t see the harm in helping them. it was innocent help, and you’d be ridding the town of an evil witch apparently.

getting up from the couch, you just smiled at the two brothers. “okay, i’ll help. just let me get changed first.”

as you walked up your stairs, sam noticed that dean was watching you walk away. he was taking in your features, and sam realized how his brother had been doing this when you were talking to them. he’d stare intently at your face, the way you laughed and watching your hair move back and forth like a hypnotists pendant.

it was quite glaringly obvious what dean was doing, and sam couldn’t help but turn to his brother and give him his classic bitch face.

dean noticed it from the corner of his eye, and he turned to look at sam with a confused and exasperated look. “dude, what is it? why are you staring at me like that?”

“why are you staring at her like that?” sam fired back instantly, watching as dean’s face burned a slight pink colour. “i’ve seen how you’ve been looking at her this whole time. she’s agreed to help us, and i am not letting you bang and dump her. she seems nice, and it honestly would be good to have a fairy on our side.”

dean just looked at sam bewildered, an almost offended look on his face. “i have not been staring at her.” sam gave dean the look, and dean couldn’t help but scoff a little and shake his head. “okay, her hair is very shiny. and i like the little freckles on her cheeks. but that doesn’t mean i just want to use and discard her, i have class.”

“yeah, class cause you like her.” sam’s matter of fact voice had dean giving him the stink eye, and than smacking him in the arm when he tried to get in another jab. “dude shut up, she’s coming back.”

turning his head as you descended towards the living room, dean felt his breath slightly catch in his throat. you were in sheer white tights, a mini denim skirt and form fitting black cardigan with a plain jacket over top. your bootie covered feet shuffled across the floor as you beckoned the two brothers over to your front door, signalling you were ready to go.

dean felt like a middle schooler. he had literally just met you ten minutes ago, yet he couldn’t help but stare at your beauty. the light makeup you had put on brightened up your features, making you look even prettier than before. dean didn’t know if all fairies looked this gorgeous, but he didn’t care because you were in front of him and you were making him weak in the knees.

the rest of the day was pure amusement for sam. watching as his brother — the notorious womanizer — followed you around like a lost puppy. he was like a dog chasing his bone, and you were any the more oblivious to it.

you bent down to pet a friendly dog; dean’s face almost hurt from smiling at your cooing voice. you yapped on and on about fairy lore and your own fairy lineage; dean listened so intently sam had to pull him away from walking into a pole. the best part was when you were telling him and sam all about your forest friends, even the cute little dog and cat you have at home; and dean acted like they were the best creations in the world.

as the sun started to set, sam and dean walked you back to your cozy cabin. you had found the witch in a nearby herbs shop, and the winchester’s decided that hunting her after they drop you off would probably be the best idea; not like you were complaining.

sam had waited by the car, knowingly winking at dean as he walked you to your front door. you stopped before the your entry way, turning towards dean and looking at the complete dopey smile on his face.

that man was absolutely down bad, and it seemed everyone knew it but him.

a light smile dawned on your face, and you couldn’t hold in your gratitude anymore. “thank you for letting me help today. it’s nice to know that i’m out doing good and not staying holed up in my home.”

dean just smiled back at you, one of the most genuine and least cocky looks that sam had ever seen on him around a girl. with a shake of his head, dean nodded his head in thanks and looked back up at you. “well i think your home is lovely.”

he sounded so silly, and you couldn’t help but grab a pen and a piece of paper out of your purse and write your number down on it. “i just got this phone last week,” you started, watching as dean eyed you with curiosity. “but i’m getting the hang of it. so i better see your name on that strange caller id thingy.”

dean found himself genuinely laughing at your sad attempt of a joke, and he took your number with gracious hands. “i’ll put it to good use.” he joked back, watching as your smile brightened and your face practically beamed with excitement.

before you went into your house, you turned around and gave dean a quick peck on the cheek, not even registering his reaction before you were in your house and eagerly waving goodbye.

he was stunned. and as he walked back to the impala, he could see sam’s smug expression written all over his face.

“dude, you are so whipped.”

[wonyowonyo]

Whispers Through Time (P. Hanni X M! Reader)

Guess who's back, it's none other than your ghosting author wonyo! Firstly, I'd like to apologize for my very long absence as life have just been too much of a bitch for me to have the time write. I can't certainly promise to update more in the future as I only have a week break right now, which is why I was able to write a new fic. This one's about 9k words, my longest? yet, so as always I hope you all enjoy this one and I'll see yall when I see ya.

The day had started like any other. Hanni strolled through the historic district, earbuds in, a soft breeze carrying the scent of aged stone and street vendors' offerings. She wasn’t quite sure what drew her into the small, dusty museum on the corner. Something about the old sign, its letters faded with time, beckoned her inside.

As she wandered past glass cases filled with relics—muskets, uniforms, yellowed parchments—her eyes landed on an antique pendant, its silver surface engraved with intricate symbols. She leaned closer, feeling an inexplicable pull.

“That belonged to an unknown revolutionary,” said an elderly curator, appearing beside her. His voice was soft, almost reverent. “No one knows his name, but legend has it he wore this during the final days of the rebellion.”

Hanni reached out, almost without thinking. Her fingertips brushed the glass, and a sudden rush of energy surged through her. The room seemed to spin, the walls melting into a blur of light and shadow. She gasped, stumbling backward—

And then, everything went dark.

————————————————————

When Hanni’s eyes fluttered open, the air was thick with smoke. Shouts echoed around her, mingling with the sharp crack of musket fire. She coughed, struggling to her feet, her heart pounding.

She wasn’t in the museum anymore.

Cobblestone streets stretched before her, lined with ramshackle buildings. People in period clothing—mud-smeared skirts, patched waistcoats—ran past, their faces twisted in fear or fury.

“This can’t be real,” she whispered, but the acrid sting of gunpowder in her nostrils said otherwise.

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed her arm. She spun around to find a young man, his dark eyes fierce beneath a tricorn hat. “You there! What are you doing out in the open?” he hissed, pulling her into a shadowy alley.

“I—I don’t know,” Hanni stammered, heart racing. “Where am I?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not from around here, are you? This is no place for a lost soul.” His voice softened slightly, though the urgency remained. “Come. We need to get off the streets. The Redcoats are out in force.”

Hanni followed him deeper into the alley, her mind a whirlwind. The dim passage was narrow, the sounds of chaos fading as they moved.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced back, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can call me Y/n.”

————————————————————

Hanni followed Y/n through a maze of twisting alleys, her heart hammering in her chest. Every echo of musket fire or distant shout sent shivers down her spine. The air was thick with tension, the kind of fear and resolve that seemed to hang over the entire city.

Finally, Y/n stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door, its surface worn and weathered. He knocked three times in a specific rhythm. After a moment, the door creaked open, and a pair of wary eyes peered out.

"Another stray?" the man behind the door muttered, his voice gruff. He was older, with a scar running down one side of his face.

"She was wandering in the streets," Y/n replied, pushing the door open further. "We couldn't leave her out there."

The man sighed but stepped aside, letting them in. Hanni followed Y/n into the dimly lit room. It was small and crowded, with a handful of people huddled around a makeshift table, their faces lined with exhaustion. Maps and documents were spread out before them, illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle.

"Stay here," Y/n whispered, guiding her to a corner. "Don't draw attention to yourself."

Hanni nodded, sinking onto a tattered blanket. The reality of her situation was starting to sink in. This wasn't a dream. She had somehow been transported back in time, into the heart of a revolution. She watched as Y/n joined the others at the table, his expression serious as they spoke in hushed tones.

For a moment, she just observed him. There was a quiet intensity about him, a determination that seemed to burn beneath the surface. His clothes were worn, his face smudged with dirt, but his eyes—deep and fierce—were filled with a kind of resolve she'd never seen before.

————————————————————

After what felt like hours, Y/n returned to her corner, sinking down beside her. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but his eyes were sharp and watchful.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft but edged with tension.

Hanni nodded. "I... think so. I still don't understand how I got here."

Y/n studied her for a long moment, his gaze narrowing. "You keep saying that. What do you mean you don't know?" His tone was laced with suspicion now.

She hesitated. "It's... complicated. I come from a different time. A different world."

His eyes widened, and he leaned back slightly, as if she might be dangerous. "What are you talking about? Is this some kind of trick?" His voice rose slightly, drawing the attention of a few others in the room.

"No!" she whispered urgently, glancing around. "I know it sounds impossible, but it’s the truth. I was... in a museum, looking at an old artifact, and then... I woke up here."

Y/n's brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. "A museum? What kind of nonsense is that? You expect me to believe you came from... the future?"

Hanni swallowed hard. "Yes. I know how it sounds, but I swear, it’s true."

For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed bitterly. "People are risking their lives out there, and you think this is a game? Some story to entertain us?"

"It’s not a story!" Hanni insisted, her voice breaking. "I don’t know how or why, but I was pulled here. Into your time. I don’t belong here."

Y/n shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and anger. "I’ve seen men lose their minds in this war. Desperation makes people say all kinds of things. But this...?" He stood abruptly, pacing. "You expect me to believe you’re some kind of... time traveler?"

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I don’t know why I’m here, but... I think maybe it’s to help. To change something. Maybe even to help you."

He stopped, his gaze fixed on her. "Help me? How could you possibly help?" His voice was low, almost a whisper now, but the doubt was clear.

"Because I’ve seen how history unfolds," she said, her voice trembling. "I know what revolutions can become. What people like you can achieve."

For a moment, Y/n just stared at her, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft. "If you’re lying... it could cost lives."

"I’m not," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please. Just trust me."

The room was silent, the weight of her words hanging between them. Y/n's expression was still guarded, but there was something else now—a flicker of uncertainty, of hope.

"Then prove it," he said finally. "Show me something. Anything that could make me believe you."

Hanni’s heart raced. She had no idea how to prove what she was saying. But she knew one thing for certain: she had to make him believe.

————————————————————

Hanni’s mind raced, searching for something—anything—that would convince Y/n she was telling the truth. She opened her bag, still miraculously slung across her shoulder, and rifled through its contents. Amidst old receipts and a water bottle, she pulled out her smartphone.

Y/n's eyes narrowed. "What's that?" His voice was tight, wary.

"It’s… a device from my time," Hanni said, holding it out cautiously. She pressed the power button, but nothing happened—the battery had died. Her heart sank.

"It doesn’t even work," Y/n muttered, his voice dripping with skepticism. He turned away, his shoulders rigid with frustration. "You’re wasting our time."

"Wait!" Hanni pleaded. "Even if it doesn’t work now, it’s real. Look at it—it’s made of materials you don’t have here. It has no seams, no screws. I can’t explain everything, but… you have to believe me."

Y/n hesitated, reaching out to touch the device. His fingers traced the smooth glass screen, his brow furrowing. "It’s… unlike anything I’ve seen," he admitted, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity. "But that doesn’t mean you’re from another time."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. "What will it take, Y/n? I didn’t choose this. I’m scared, just like you."

The raw emotion in her voice seemed to reach him. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, the doubt wavered. "If what you say is true," he said slowly, "then why are you here? Why now?"

Hanni shook her head. "I don’t know. Maybe… maybe to help you. Maybe to change something."

Y/n’s eyes darkened. "Change what? We’re fighting a losing battle, Hanni. Every day, we lose more people. Hope is a dangerous thing here."

"But it’s all you have," she whispered, stepping closer. "You have to believe there’s a future worth fighting for."

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the tension between them shifted. The room seemed to shrink around them, the sounds of the rebellion fading into the background.

"You speak like someone who knows what we’re fighting for," Y/n said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you don't know our pain."

"I know courage," Hanni replied, her voice steady. "I see it in you. In all of you. And I know that what you’re doing matters."

Y/n’s expression softened, the walls he had built around himself beginning to crack. "You really believe that?"

"I do," she whispered.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Y/n nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. "I don’t know if I believe your story," he said finally, his voice low. "But I believe in you."

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them—a fragile connection forged in the chaos of war.

————————————————————

The days passed like they were suspended in time, quiet moments broken only by the distant sounds of musket fire or the hushed whispers of rebels making plans. Hanni found herself swept deeper into the daily life of the revolution, but it wasn’t just the work that kept her there. It was the people. The people, and him—Y/n.

At first, it was the small things. He would catch her eye across the room and offer a slight nod of acknowledgment. There were moments when he would pause, as if considering saying something, but would always retreat back into himself, slipping into the shadows like he had before.

But each time, Hanni noticed. And slowly, his distant manner softened, though she could never quite understand why.

Her days were spent helping wherever she could. She learned how to prepare simple meals with the limited supplies they had—using techniques she never thought she’d need to know. When rebels returned from the front lines, bloodied and tired, she assisted in patching wounds and soothing the pain as best as she could with the little medicine they had. The acts were small, but the trust the rebels placed in her gave her a sense of purpose she hadn't expected.

Y/n, too, would linger on the outskirts, watching her in quiet contemplation. He would never ask her to do anything, but there was a silent appreciation in the way he observed her, a sense of something building just beneath the surface. Sometimes, he would glance her way, his expression unreadable, as though he was trying to piece something together.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her, not just with his eyes but with something deeper, something more searching.

And yet, every time she saw him, Hanni was reminded of the truth she had buried deep in her mind. This wasn’t her world. These weren’t her people. And no matter how strong her connection with Y/n felt in the moment, it was all doomed to end the second she returned to her time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care for him—it was the opposite. The more she saw of him, the more she understood his burdens, the more she felt for him, the more she realized how dangerous it was to get involved with someone in this time. How could she love someone who would never truly know her, who would never understand the world she came from?

Y/n’s life was a war. His fight was for something that might never be realized, something that could be extinguished by the very forces he fought against. What could she give him, knowing she didn’t belong here, knowing that every action she took would only alter their fate?

Her thoughts were spiraling when she found herself once again standing alone by the window of the safe house, staring out into the dark, wondering about the future.

She wasn’t even sure if she could call it "home" anymore. The longer she stayed, the more she learned, and the more she felt like she was betraying the very people who had taken her in. And Y/n—Y/n made everything feel more complicated.

It wasn’t fair to him. She was a ghost in his world, and she couldn’t even promise him a future. She’d always known she’d have to leave—whether she figured out how to go home or simply faded out of their history entirely. But the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. It was only a matter of time.

Y/n found her there, his footsteps quiet on the stone floor. He said nothing at first, simply stood beside her, gazing out at the same starry sky that stretched endlessly above them.

Finally, it was Hanni who broke the silence. "You’re always so quiet," she said, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the question. "Don’t you ever get tired of keeping everything inside?"

Y/n’s eyes shifted to her, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he masked it with that same distant expression. He didn’t speak at first. Instead, he looked down at his hands, turning them over in his lap, as if weighing her words carefully.

"It’s easier that way," he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. "If you don’t say anything, they can’t use it against you. If you don’t let anyone in..." His words trailed off, and he fell into silence again.

Hanni wanted to say something, to offer some comfort, but she found herself too tangled in her own thoughts. There was something about him, something in his sadness that mirrored her own confusion. She wanted to understand him, to help him bear his burden, but the more she understood, the more complicated it became.

"Is it... that bad?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him. "The fighting, I mean. The way you’re always running, always looking over your shoulder?"

Y/n’s jaw clenched at her question, and for a moment, it seemed like he might shut down completely. But instead, he spoke again, though it was with a far-off look in his eyes—a look that seemed to carry years of loss, of moments he couldn’t forget.

"It’s not just the fighting," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet sorrow. "It’s the loss. It’s losing people, watching them fall one by one and knowing you couldn’t do enough. And it’s the guilt." His eyes met hers for the first time in what felt like forever, and there was a vulnerability there, raw and painful. "That’s what it is. The guilt. Because you can never do enough."

The weight of his words hit Hanni harder than she anticipated. She hadn’t been prepared for this side of him, the one he kept hidden beneath the steely resolve. There was so much pain, so much history she could never fully understand, no matter how hard she tried.

Her heart ached at the thought of the sacrifices he’d made, the endless battles he fought, and the people he had lost. But it wasn’t just sympathy she felt. It was a connection—a longing to help him, to take away some of that burden.

She stepped closer to him, her hand gently resting on his arm. "You don’t have to carry all of this alone," she murmured, her voice tender. "I’m here. I know it’s not much, but I’ll be here for you. If you need to talk, or just... have someone listen."

Y/n looked at her, his eyes softening for a brief moment. She could see the hesitation in him, as if he were unsure whether to accept her offer or push her away. But in the end, he didn’t pull back. He let her hand stay there.

Hanni didn’t know what else to say, so she simply stood there with him, offering him the silent support he didn’t know he needed. She wasn’t sure what would come next—whether he would open up or retreat even further into himself—but for now, she was content to simply be there, offering whatever comfort she could.

After a long pause, Y/n finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Hanni. I... I didn’t expect this. But it means more than I can say."

She gave him a small smile, her heart feeling lighter. "It’s nothing. You’ve been through so much, and I... I don’t know how to help, but I want to try."

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the quiet hum of the night around them. And in that silence, they shared something unspoken—a brief moment of understanding, of connection, where the world outside seemed to fade away.

Y/n stood up slowly, as if considering his next words carefully. He didn’t speak, but there was a softness in his gaze as he looked down at her. Without saying anything more, he reached out, giving her a gentle, reassuring touch on the shoulder before turning back toward the door.

"Rest," he said quietly. "We have a long road ahead."

As he left, Hanni lingered by the window, looking out at the stars, a quiet ache in her chest. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, for them, but in that moment, she knew one thing—she would stand by him, no matter what came next.

————————————————————

The safe house was quiet, save for the soft rustling of fabric as rebels settled in for the night. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, the warm glow offering a sense of fragile peace in a world that had long forgotten calm.

Hanni sat alone in the corner, her knees tucked up to her chest, gazing into the dying flames of the hearth. Thoughts swirled in her mind, all tangled up in the confusing mess of her emotions. The more time she spent with Y/n, the harder it became to ignore the deepening bond between them.

She couldn’t lie to herself. She cared for him—perhaps more than she was willing to admit. But that didn’t change the fact that she was from the future, a stranger in this time. How could she possibly belong here, in a world she didn’t understand, with someone who could never understand her?

And yet, in moments like these—when the world outside was chaos and the people around her were fighting for survival—Hanni found herself leaning into something she hadn’t expected: connection.

Y/n had become something more than just a revolutionary leader to her. He was a person—a person with fears and dreams, someone who wore his pain on his sleeve when no one was looking. There was so much she wanted to ask him, to know about his past, his life before the rebellion. But she also understood that there were things he could never say. Some scars went too deep to be shared so easily.

The sound of soft footsteps broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find Y/n standing in the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the darkness beyond.

"You’re still awake," he said, his voice low and steady, though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

Hanni nodded, offering him a small, uncertain smile. "Just thinking," she said quietly. "It’s hard to sleep sometimes, with everything that’s going on."

Y/n didn’t reply immediately, stepping further into the room and sitting across from her. His gaze was soft but intense, studying her as though trying to read the thoughts behind her guarded expression.

"You’re still thinking about everything, aren’t you?" His words weren’t accusatory. They were simply a statement of fact.

Hanni hesitated, then sighed, pulling her knees closer. "I don’t know how to stop. This place, this time... it feels like I’m caught between two worlds. One that I don’t belong to anymore, and one that I can’t quite seem to find my way into."

There was a long pause before Y/n spoke again, his voice quiet but warm, as if he understood the weight of her words in a way that no one else could. "I know how you feel. Being stuck between two places. Torn between your past and your future."

Hanni’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if he meant it in the way she thought, or if it was just a way to connect. Either way, it felt like an opening—an invitation to say more, to let him in.

"I didn’t think it would be like this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t think I’d get attached. To you, to all of this. But I have. I’ve seen how you lead, how you fight. How much you care. And I’ve started caring, too. But I can’t..." She faltered, shaking her head, as if the words weren’t enough to express the conflicting emotions inside of her. "I can’t be the person you need, not when I’m from a world you can never know."

Y/n’s expression shifted then, his gaze softening with understanding. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes not leaving hers. "I don’t need you to be anything but yourself," he said, his voice sincere, as if the weight of his words carried more than just a comforting gesture. "I’ve been through a lot, Hanni. And I know what it’s like to feel like you're an outsider. But here, with us... you’ve already become part of something bigger. Part of the fight. And no matter where you came from, that means something."

Hanni’s chest tightened at his words. The weight of them settled over her like a warm blanket, but it also felt heavy, because she knew that soon, she would have to leave. Her time here, however much it felt like home, was not real. It couldn’t be real. Not in the way she wanted it to be.

And yet, she couldn’t help but feel an undeniable pull toward him. Y/n had been her anchor in this strange world, offering her moments of comfort when all she could do was stand on the sidelines and watch as history unfolded around her.

"Thank you," Hanni said softly, her voice almost cracking. "For saying that. It means more than you know."

Y/n’s eyes met hers, and for the briefest of moments, the room seemed to fall away. There were no sounds of rebellion, no distant gunshots, no whispering fears about the future. There was only this—this quiet moment where they both understood what was unsaid.

Y/n’s hand reached out then, resting lightly on hers. It was a simple gesture, but to Hanni, it felt like an unspoken promise. She didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if she’d ever see him again once she left, but in that moment, with the quiet hum of the world around them, she allowed herself to be present. To be there for him. And to let him be there for her.

They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them slowly easing. As the night deepened, Y/n stood up and extended his hand toward her, a small, wry smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You’ve been working hard. You deserve a rest."

Hanni looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with unspoken words. But she nodded, accepting his gesture without hesitation. She didn’t need to say anything. They didn’t need words to understand each other right now.

Instead, they stepped outside into the cool night air, where the stars hung like tiny pinpricks of light in the vast expanse of the sky. The quiet of the world felt different here—softer, as if the very earth itself was holding its breath.

Y/n’s hand brushed against hers as they walked side by side, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They stopped for a moment, standing under the canopy of stars, each of them lost in their thoughts, but also somehow connected in that quiet solitude.

"This is freedom, isn’t it?" Hanni asked, her voice barely audible, but steady. "The kind you’re fighting for."

Y/n looked up at the stars for a long moment, his eyes reflecting the distant light. "Maybe," he murmured. "Freedom isn’t always about what’s out there—it’s about what we can hold onto, what we believe in, even when everything seems impossible."

Hanni nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest. It was something she had been struggling to understand for days, ever since she arrived. Freedom wasn’t just about returning to her time, to her world—it was about what she could give in the here and now, even if it meant staying with him, with them, for as long as she could.

Y/n turned to her then, his eyes softer than they had been before. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time since arriving in this strange, violent era, Hanni allowed herself to believe him. Not because she was sure of the outcome—but because, right then, in that moment, it felt true.

They stood there for a while longer, side by side, under the vast, starry sky. The night was still, but the air between them was charged—full of the unspoken things they both needed but hadn’t yet found the words to express.

For a moment, Hanni forgot the distance between their worlds. She only knew the quiet comfort of his presence, and the strange but undeniable peace of the moment they were sharing.

————————————————————

The days seemed to stretch into one another, a mix of quiet moments and heavy responsibilities. Time, it seemed, was a constant weight pressing down on Hanni. Each passing day brought them closer to an inevitable confrontation with the colonial authorities, and Y/n’s position within the movement was more precarious than ever.

Hanni had long known that Y/n was a target for the regime. His intellect, his strategies, his speeches—everything about him made him a threat. The more she became involved with the rebels, the more she realized just how dangerous it was for him. But she never anticipated how deeply his fate would intertwine with her own, nor how much she would come to care for him.

Still, she couldn’t allow herself to be consumed by these feelings—not when she was from the future. She had seen the records, she had lived with the knowledge of how it all played out. Y/n’s rebellion, the bloodshed, the eventual collapse—she had witnessed it from afar in her own time. She knew his future in a way that no one else could.

And the thing was, she wasn’t sure how much of it she could change.

It was late one evening, after a long day of tending to the wounded and helping prepare supplies for the next battle, that Y/n found her alone in the corner of the safe house. She had been trying to make sense of everything—the war, the lives at stake, and her own internal conflict.

He stood silently for a moment before speaking, his voice low but clear. "We’re running out of time, Hanni."

Her heart sank. She had known this conversation was coming. She had felt it in the air, in the way everyone seemed to move more urgently, more carefully, as if aware that danger was circling them.

"I know," she said, looking up at him. She forced a calmness into her voice, but inside, her heart was beating faster than ever. "What are you planning?"

Y/n sat down across from her, his expression hard, but with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "We can’t wait any longer. The authorities are closing in. The others are preparing to flee the city, but I can’t just leave the cause behind." His words were filled with resolve, but Hanni could hear the strain in his voice. He was worn down, his mind heavy with the weight of leadership and the knowledge that his own death was becoming inevitable.

Her throat tightened. She already knew what he was planning—he was going to make himself a target, sacrifice himself for the cause. He had been so sure of it, even before she’d come into his life, even before they’d shared the quiet moments they now had. He had already made peace with the idea of dying for freedom, for the revolution.

And that was the problem.

Hanni had spent days, weeks, torn between what she knew of the future and what she wanted to do to save him. She couldn’t let him die. She couldn’t. Not when she knew the kind of impact he would have, the hope he would inspire, the lives that could be changed if he just survived a little longer.

But changing history wasn’t as simple as saving one person. The future—her future—was fragile. She had seen what happened when people interfered with time. The consequences were often unpredictable, violent. What if changing Y/n’s fate meant altering everything she knew, everything that had shaped the future she came from?

She struggled to keep the doubt out of her voice. "You’re not making this decision alone, Y/n. If you leave now, if you go alone, you’re not just risking your life—you’re risking everything we’ve fought for."

"I know," he said quietly. "But I don’t have a choice anymore. If we keep waiting, they’ll find us. We’ll all be dead."

Hanni’s heart twisted. She wanted to say something, to convince him to reconsider, but she couldn’t find the words. She couldn’t even tell him the truth—she couldn’t tell him that she knew how it would end. How he would end.

She had known for a long time now, ever since she’d arrived in this time and begun piecing together the fragments of history, that Y/n was going to die in a few months. The specifics were unclear—there were no exact dates in the records—but there were enough details to know his fate was sealed. His death would be a turning point for the revolution, a martyrdom that would galvanize the people and push them toward victory. But for all her knowledge, for all her understanding of the future, it felt cruel to just stand by and let him die.

He looked at her then, his gaze steady, as if he could read her conflicted thoughts. "I know you’re struggling with this, Hanni," he said softly. "I know you want to change things. You’ve always had that look in your eyes, like you’re waiting for the right moment to fix it all."

Hanni felt her breath catch in her throat. It was true—she had never fully accepted her place in the timeline. She had always wondered if there was something she could do, some way she could alter the future to save the people she had come to care for. But this was different. Y/n was different.

"I can’t just let you die," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I know it’s supposed to happen—I know it’s part of the history, part of the plan—but I can’t stand by and watch it happen. I’ve seen what you’ll do for this cause, Y/n. I’ve seen how much you’ll give. But you can’t die. You can’t—"

"Hanni," Y/n cut her off gently, his hand reaching across the table to grasp hers. His touch was warm, grounding her. "You’ve seen the future. You know that nothing stays the same. But what I do—what we do—still matters. Whether I’m here or not, we have to keep fighting. I’ve made my peace with this. But you have to make your peace, too."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears, though she struggled to keep them back. She had never wanted to hurt him. She didn’t want to change everything. But how could she let him die, knowing there was still time to save him? Could she really live with that choice?

"I don’t want to lose you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I don’t know if I can change things. I don’t know if it’s right to change anything at all."

Y/n squeezed her hand, his gaze softening. "Hanni, no matter what happens, we’ve done something. We’ve given everything for this cause. The people will carry it forward. You’ve already changed the future in ways you don’t even realize. Just by being here, just by standing with us, you’ve already made a difference."

Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words. It wasn’t just about saving him, it was about the bigger picture—the revolution, the fight for freedom, the lives of countless others. But how could she stand by and let him die?

A painful silence stretched between them, heavy with the impossible decision she had to make. Would she try to change history? Could she? Or would she accept that some things were beyond her control, that sometimes the greatest acts of love were letting go?

She didn’t have an answer yet. Not right then.

But one thing was clear—she couldn’t keep running from the future forever.

————————————————————

The days that followed were tense, as the weight of Hanni's decision pressed heavily on her chest. Each conversation she had with Y/n seemed to deepen the growing conflict inside her. She wanted to believe in the cause, to stand by him, and yet, every time she looked into his eyes, the same thought haunted her: What if I could save him?

The safe house, once a refuge, had become a place of quiet desperation. The others were preparing to leave the city, to scatter and take their fight to the countryside, where they hoped to continue their struggle in the shadows. But Y/n refused to run—not when he was the beating heart of their movement, not when he had come so far.

Hanni spent her days helping with preparations, cooking, tending to the wounded, and even assisting with organizing supplies. But at night, when the others went to sleep, she would sit in the corner, staring at the wall, her mind racing. The future was so clear in her mind—his future—and yet she felt powerless to change it. Every instinct screamed at her to act, to save him. But the question still lingered: Should she?

It was late one evening when Y/n found her again, standing alone in the dim-lit courtyard of the safe house. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind a blanket of clouds. A cold breeze swept through the alley, making her shiver as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Y/n said, his voice low and careful, as if sensing the heavy burden she was carrying.

Hanni turned to face him, offering a weak smile. “I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been... thinking.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about what?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “About everything. About what comes next. About the choices I’ve made—and the ones I still have to make.”

The tension between them grew, thick and palpable. Y/n moved closer, his presence both comforting and overwhelming. His gaze softened as he spoke, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re not the only one carrying a heavy load, you know.”

Hanni looked up at him, her heart aching at the raw honesty in his voice. “I know. I’ve seen the way you’re torn, Y/n. I know you’ve accepted what’s coming, but... it’s hard for me to do the same.”

He took a step closer, now just inches away from her, his hand reaching out to rest gently on her arm. “I know you care about me, Hanni. And I care about you, too. But you can’t carry this burden alone.”

A flicker of warmth spread through her chest at his words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the heavy weight of the decision she still had to make. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. How could she explain everything to him without revealing the truth of where she came from? How could she admit that she knew his future, his sacrifice, and yet still felt torn between letting history unfold as it was meant to—or changing it?

Y/n seemed to sense her internal struggle. “I’ve made peace with it, Hanni. I’ve fought for this cause, and I will die for it if I must. But that doesn’t mean I want to leave this world without knowing that you understand... what this all means. What it means to truly fight for something.”

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream that she couldn’t let him die, that she couldn’t just stand by and watch it happen. But that would change everything—everything she had come to know. The future, the world she knew, depended on certain things remaining in place.

“I do understand,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But... I don’t want you to die.”

Y/n’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “I know you don’t. But sometimes, we don’t get to choose our fate. Sometimes, the fight for freedom demands sacrifices we’re not ready to make. And when it comes down to it, I can’t regret that choice.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his conviction. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the heat of his touch on her skin, grounding her in the present moment. His hand lingered there, warm and steady.

“I’m not asking you to accept it,” he continued. “I’m just asking you to be here. With me. Until the end.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she met his eyes, her own filled with unshed tears. She wanted to argue, to beg him to leave, to fight another day. But the reality was clear. He was already committed. The revolution needed him. And she couldn’t change his path, no matter how much she wanted to.

The moment hung between them, fragile and delicate. Then, as if to break the silence, Y/n spoke again. “I know you want to change things, Hanni. But some things are bigger than us. The revolution... it will live on, with or without me.”

Hanni felt a surge of emotion at his words. She wanted to deny them, to argue that there was still time, that she could still save him. But the truth was, she didn’t know how to change what was already set in motion.

They stood there for a long time, neither of them speaking, just existing in the silence, sharing the weight of the future between them. Eventually, Hanni spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“What if I can’t let you go?”

Y/n’s hand slid down to hers, and he squeezed it gently. “You don’t have to. Just promise me that you’ll remember what we’re fighting for, Hanni. Not just the cause, but the people—the ones who will carry this fight forward. They’ll need you. The world will need you.”

The finality in his voice made her heart ache. But she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I promise.”

Y/n gave her a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if he knew the weight of the promise she had just made. “Then, let’s make the most of the time we have left.”

With that, he pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly as if the moment could last forever. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, the steady beat of his heart that she had come to depend on. She didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, but for now, all that mattered was the present.

————————————————————

The night was quiet, but it carried an electric tension, like the calm before a storm. Hanni and Y/n spent the evening together, talking in the soft light of the safe house, sharing stories of their lives, of the world they came from. For a brief moment, the war seemed distant. For just a little while, they were not enemies, rebels, or future and past—they were simply two people, trying to hold on to something real.

Y/n took Hanni’s hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know that you’ve made a difference in my life. And in the lives of the others. You’ve given us hope."

Hanni’s eyes shimmered with emotion, but she nodded, unable to speak the words she wanted to. Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder, content in the moment. She wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but for tonight, she was with him—and that, for now, was enough.

————————————————————

The early morning light crept through the cracks in the safe house walls, casting long shadows across the floor. Hanni had hardly slept, her mind a tangled mess of regrets and what-ifs. She watched as the rebels moved quickly, preparing for their final stand. It was no surprise that the colonial forces were on their way—she had known it was coming, but knowing something in advance didn’t make it any easier.

Y/n moved among the rebels, his presence as steady and commanding as ever. He issued orders, encouraging those around him, all while maintaining a calm demeanor that belied the tension thick in the air. Hanni watched him closely from across the room. In his every movement, she saw the gravity of the choices they were all facing. And, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met.

A fleeting glance. But in it, Hanni saw everything that had brought them together, everything that would be lost, and everything she had yet to say. The things she should have said long before this moment.

Suddenly, the sound of distant explosions broke the morning silence, followed by a sharp, nerve-wracking crackle of gunfire. The colonial forces were moving in earlier than anticipated. Panic erupted in the safe house. The rebels scrambled, gathering their weapons and preparing to defend the position.

But Y/n was steady in the chaos. His voice was firm and unshaken as he directed everyone to their positions.

"Hanni," he called, motioning her over. His tone was different now, focused, but still carrying the same warmth that had drawn her to him since the beginning. When she approached him, he pressed something into her hand—a small, leather-bound journal, its edges worn from years of use.

"Keep this safe," he said, his voice low. "It contains everything—our plans, our hopes, our dreams for the future. Make sure it reaches the right people. They’ll need it when the time comes."

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat as she held the journal. It wasn’t just a record of their efforts; it was his legacy, a testament to everything he had fought for. Her fingers closed around it, but the weight of it felt like a burden, heavier than she ever imagined.

“Y/n,” she whispered, almost desperate. “Please, there has to be another way. This doesn’t have to happen.”

He met her gaze with an almost imperceptible smile, but it was tinged with sadness. The flicker of pain in his eyes only made her heart ache more.

"You know there isn't," he said softly, the finality in his voice cutting through her protests. "But you've given me something I never expected to find in all of this chaos. A reason to believe that the future will be better than the present."

The sounds of fighting grew closer, the outside world closing in on them. The air was thick with urgency.

"You need to go," Y/n said firmly, pushing her gently toward the back exit. “The others will make sure you get to safety.”

Hanni froze. Every part of her screamed to stay. To fight alongside him. To change the course of history. She had always thought she could do that, thought she could somehow fix it all. But now, in this moment, she knew the truth. This was how history had to unfold.

“I won’t forget,” she said, her voice trembling as tears filled her eyes. “I won’t let anyone forget what you fought for.”

Y/n stepped closer, pulling her into a tight embrace. His arms were warm, protective, but in that moment, it felt like he was offering her his last piece of peace. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

But then, almost instinctively, Hanni tilted her head upward, and Y/n's lips met hers in a kiss that was both gentle and desperate. It was a kiss filled with the weight of everything they had been through, everything they would never have, and everything they could never say aloud.

For that brief moment, the chaos of the world around them faded. The sound of explosions, the gunfire, the inevitable future—all of it disappeared as they held on to one another. The kiss was their way of defying fate, of letting the world know that, despite everything, they had each other for just a few seconds longer.

When they finally pulled apart, the sadness in their eyes spoke volumes. There were no words left between them. Just the quiet understanding that this was it.

“Live, Hanni,” Y/n whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “Live and make sure our fight wasn’t in vain.”

The door burst open then, rebels rushing in with news of the advancing enemy forces. Y/n’s expression hardened, and he turned to face his destiny, his posture resolute.

Hanni’s heart shattered as she was pulled away by another rebel, her eyes never leaving Y/n until the very last moment. She wanted to scream, to rush back to him, but she knew it was too late.

She fled through the dark alleys, clutching the journal to her chest, her mind a blur of grief and guilt. The sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, growing louder. She could already see the outcome, hear the cries of victory and defeat. She had read about this moment in history—she knew what would happen.

And, sure enough, it was only hours later that the news reached her. Y/n had made his last stand against the colonial authorities. He had fought with everything he had, holding the line long enough for others to escape. But he was gone now. A martyr. A hero. And yet, to Hanni, it felt like the world had just lost someone who still had so much more to give.

————————————————————

Hours passed. The safe house she had been led to was empty, save for a few other survivors. But Hanni couldn’t rest. Her fingers trembled as she opened Y/n’s journal, her heart racing as she began to read.

The pages were filled with his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams for the future. The pages chronicled not just the rebellion but the man he had been. He spoke of the reasons he fought—of his memories of his family, his longing for justice. He had written about her, too, about the unexpected presence she had brought into his life. Hanni’s heart stuttered as she read his words, feeling the weight of what he had shared with her.

“I never thought I would find someone like you in the midst of all this,” one line read. “But now, in these final moments, I know I’m not fighting just for the cause. I’m fighting for something more. For the people I care about. For the future we dream of.”

The realization hit Hanni with the force of a tidal wave. Despite everything, despite her best efforts, she had failed to save him. And yet—she was determined now. Y/n’s memory, his fight, would not be lost.

Hanni wiped her tears away and stood, holding the journal close. The mission wasn’t over. The cause wasn’t over. She would make sure of that.

————————————————————

Hanni’s resolve only grew stronger as she helped the remaining rebels organize. She used the knowledge from the future to guide them, helping them evade capture and stay one step ahead of the colonial forces. The sense of urgency never left her. Each day, the walls seemed to close in tighter. But the more she worked with the rebels, the more she saw the spark of something she hadn’t expected to find—hope. She saw the people who had once been fractured, now united, pushing forward toward freedom.

Despite the growing danger, Hanni remained close to Y/n’s former comrades, trying to ensure that his memory lived on in every small victory they achieved.

But eventually, it was clear that history would not be denied. Y/n’s death had set a course that Hanni couldn’t alter. No matter how many lives she saved, no matter how much she fought to change the outcome, there was no escaping the truth.

Y/n’s last stand had come. It had been brutal and tragic, but it had been the catalyst for the revolution to ignite across the country. Though Hanni’s heart shattered, she came to understand that some events, no matter how much we want to change them, were simply meant to unfold as they did. She had tried to rewrite history, but there were forces beyond her control—forces of sacrifice, of fate—that could not be avoided.

————————————————————

In the end, the country achieved its independence, though it came at an unimaginable cost. Hanni returned to her own time, forever altered by the journey she had taken. She had seen the complexities of history, felt the weight of decisions that shaped the future, and understood the sacrifices made by those who fought for freedom.

As she reflected on everything that had happened, Hanni realized that she had learned one of the most difficult lessons of all. The past, for all its tragedy, could never be fully rewritten. And yet, it had taught her something about the power of memory and legacy. Y/n’s fight had not been in vain. His ideals, his vision for a better world, would live on, even if he was gone.

The revolution had succeeded. And in the end, that was all he had ever wanted.

 The country, though scarred, had risen from the ashes of conflict to begin anew. It was a fragile peace, but a peace nonetheless. Hanni, now back in her own time, stood at the edge of a quiet city park, gazing at the horizon as the sun dipped below the skyline.

In her hands, she still held Y/n's journal, worn and weathered by the years, but treasured more than any other possession she had. The ink had faded in places, but the words—the hope, the passion, the love for a future he would never see—remained vibrant, echoing in her heart like the pulse of a song she couldn’t forget.

Her eyes wandered to a statue in the distance, a figure standing tall, gazing forward as if daring the world to challenge it. It was a monument dedicated to the revolutionary leader who had sparked a movement that changed everything. His name was etched into the base, and while she knew it was not her place to add her own, she thought of Y/n every time she passed it.

She remembered the kiss they had shared in those final moments, the quiet promise she made to him—to live, to fight for the future he had dreamed of. She hadn’t been able to change history, but she had witnessed the change he had ignited, and that, in its own way, had been enough.

As Hanni turned to leave, the faintest sound of a melody reached her ears. It was soft, carried by the breeze—an old song, one she had heard countless times in the rebellion’s safe houses. She smiled softly to herself, knowing the song was still alive, still being sung by those who had inherited the dream Y/n and so many others had fought for.

She walked towards the source of the music, finding a small group of people gathered near the park’s center. There, under the shade of an ancient oak tree, a young couple danced. Their movements were slow and tender, as if the world had slowed just for them. A feeling of nostalgia tugged at Hanni's heart.

One of the dancers caught her eye, and the smile that spread across his face brought a lump to her throat. He was holding a violin, playing the melody that had so often comforted them in their darkest days. And there, standing beside him, was a woman who resembled someone she had once known. The woman’s eyes, shining with tears and joy, were filled with the same hopeful spirit that had driven Y/n all those years ago.

The music swelled, and the couple danced with abandon, as if the past had finally given them room to breathe. Hanni closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sound of the violin and the warmth of the evening wrap around her like a blanket.

In that moment, everything felt right. Her journey had not been in vain. She had seen the ripples of history that were shaped by the sacrifices of those who had gone before. And while she could never undo the pain of Y/n’s loss, she knew that his fight had planted the seeds for something greater than himself.

The world had continued. His world had continued. And with that thought, Hanni finally felt a peace she hadn’t known she was capable of.

As the dance finished, the couple shared a soft, lingering kiss, and Hanni found herself smiling through her tears, knowing that Y/n’s legacy was alive in every new life, every small victory, and every dream that carried the flame of freedom forward.

She stood for a moment longer, watching the stars begin to twinkle overhead. She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t bring Y/n back. But in this moment, she was sure of one thing:

The fight he had started was far from over.

And it would live on, in every heart that remembered the cost of freedom.

[dyeher]

“We should get married.”

The sun is too hot. You’re too sweaty and dehydrated and horny and miserable to even entertain Mikey’s lackluster proposal. It’s not even a question. It’s a statement.

He looks serious too, and hot and sweaty and delicious. You want to lick the stray beads of sweat that have collected at the base of his throat.

But you can’t because it’d be unprofessional. So, you ignore him. Adjusting the lens on your camera to snap a few more pictures of him in the natural light.

There’s a giant hibiscus tucked behind his right ear and his head is tilted up to face the sky. He’s glowing. Between him and the orange hibiscus you’re not sure who the sun is loving more.

“Did you hear me?”

“Don’t move,” you instruct, ignoring him again. He’s turned to you for acknowledgment and the light catches in the strands of his hair. It frames him in a halo of light, and in this position the hibiscus pales in comparison to him. Him and his entirely too beautiful face. His upper body flexes lightly with the movement, exposing his tattoos for the camera and when he lifts a brow at you, your mouth goes dry.

“Don’t ignore me.”

“It’s too hot Mikey,” you complain. You’re still snapping away because Mikey is moving and every shift in the muscles of his arms as he turns toward you fully, the clenching of his abdominal muscles, you aim to capture them all.

“This was your idea,” he points out.

He’s right. It was your idea and you don’t regret it. Not when you get to see him like this (because there are very few people who can see him like this and you’re truly honored to be one of them).

He sits back, pressing his hands into the soft grass behind him and elongating his torso. His jacket falls open wider and more of the small tattoos scattered across his torso are revealed. You snap a few quick shots of him from the neck done.

“I know,” you smile as you sink onto the grass next to him to click through the last five pictures you’d snapped. They’re your favorite so far.

The first is a body shot that highlights the golden pendant that’s nestled in the hollow of his throat. There’s a small butterfly tattoo on his left collar bone and Roman numerals on his right. The tattoo above his Adam’s apple matches the wording in the pendant. ‘Monster’ printed in typewriter font.

The second is a torso shot. His skin is damp from a thin layer of sweat and the sun casts his normally pale skin in a golden glow. You’d managed to capture a bead of sweat as it trickled down between his abs.

The third makes you freeze.

“Delete that,” Mikey says from over your shoulder. The heat from his body seeps into your thin shirt as he plasters himself to your back.

He’s smiling in the picture. His head tilted downward as he looks at you through his lashes, a secretive smile playing on his lips. It’s breathtaking. You’d captured his entire top half. The flexing muscles in his arms, the bunching of the muscles in his shoulders.

“Nope!” you giggle, holding the camera out of his reach. Mikey glares playfully at you.

“The only way—” he lunges, eyes locked on your own, and snatches the camera from you, ignoring your indignant yelp“—you’re keeping this is if you say yes to marrying me.”

You squint, folding your arms in front of you. “You’re not serious.”

Mikey places the camera down carefully and turns his attention to you. “I am.”

He reaches for your hands and drags you into his lap, guiding them to his shoulders and settling his own on your waist. Your eyes narrow further as he pulls you closer to him. “I’m very serious.”

You’re a little taller than him like this and when he tilts his head up to look into your eyes the hibiscus falls free from behind his ear.

“I want to marry you,” he continues. “And then you can take as many pictures of me as you want.”

You swallow, your heart suddenly thundering as Mikey continues to stare at you. “As many pictures as I want? Do you promise?”

Mikey chuckles. “I promise.”

You eye him skeptically.

He presses a soft kiss to your chin. “I’ll even let you post some of them.”

Your eyes widen. “Really?!”

He presses a kiss lower to your throat, his hair tickling your chin as he nods.

“You’re not trying to trick me into saying yes right?”

Mikey lifts his head to level a blank look at you. “Would I need to trick you?”

“Fair point,” you acquiesce.

He leaves a kiss on your right cheek and then the corner of your mouth and when his tongue comes out to lick along the seam of your lips you sigh.

He takes advantage of that and kisses you deeply. When he pulls away you blink dazedly at him.

“Ask me to marry you again after I’ve had a shower,” you blurt.

Mikey’s brows furrow. “What?”

“I’m too sticky and sweaty and hot to think straight and your cock is right—” you roll your hips, dragging your clothed sex along his erection “—there! I’m not thinking straight.”

Mikey chuckles. “How about after I’ve fucked you ?”

You pause. “In the shower?”

Mikey groans, head falling against your shoulder. “Sure, I’ll ask you again after I’ve fucked you in the shower.”

“And I’ll say yes.”

“You fucking better,” he says. “I’d hate it if you forced my hand.”

You pretend you don’t hear the threat in those words.

[lunarmoves]

Your grandmother used to tell you stories of the gods. 

How the world came to be with the snap of their fingers; the wind that came from their breath and the water from their tears. She told you of the ones who lived in the trees, giving life to all the flora and fauna that graced the Earth. The ones who sparked hope in the darkness of places, or supplied warmth at the hearth of people’s homes. 

She told you of Suj’asti, the Sun god, who gave life in the form of light that brightened the sky into a gorgeous blue. Who watched over the Earth as he guided the sun over your heads and shaped the way your days were made. He was the being of prosperity; he was the being of energy.

She told you of D’armil, the Moon god, who decorated the night sky with stars and kept an eye on those who slumbered. Who rotated the moon every night and controlled the push and pulls of the tide by the shore. He was the being of protection; he was the being of dreams. 

You listened to her tales with utmost devotion, intrigued by the way she wove her words to form these intricacies that—to your young mind—revealed all the mysteries of the universe and how it worked. You spent a lot of time in your village’s record collection, reading over scrolls and books alike that contained legends, myths, and theories. It was interesting—it was utterly fascinating. You learned as much as you could and still craved more. It sent you across the lands—this thirst for knowledge—and had you dappling in all manners of magic, folklore, and science. 

You enriched your life with the deep history of magic and mythicals—the powers they possessed that saturated the world over time. You taught yourself how to decipher the languages that connected different beings and that encompassed the words of magic. You wrote, in a little journal you bought in the capital, spells and incantations that you were able to recite—as well as those that you couldn’t. And you always made sure to return to your grandmother’s little cottage at the edge of the woods, recounting to her the things you’d learned. The things you’d seen and experienced. She always appreciated it, you knew.

Before she passed, your grandmother gave you her necklace that she told you had been blessed in the Rivers of Rosoi. The waters that ran through them were said to contain a powerful magic that came from the gods themselves. It will protect you, your grandmother told you as she clasped the fine, golden jewelry around your neck with trembling fingers. It was a gorgeous thing with a pendant made from a jewel that reminded you of smoldering coal. From anything that will bring you harm. It became something you wore more out of habit than necessity, tucked under the collar of your tunic. 

Eventually, once you’d had your fill of adventure and thaumaturgy, you settled down in your late grandmother’s cottage. You busied yourself with flora—documenting them in one of your journals—and the magic some of them contained that could be used for a variety of actions. And since the cottage was seated at the point where a wide, expansive field kissed the beginnings of the woods, you were able to stare out its windows at the open sky above you. Watching as the sun climbed lazily across it as its bright blue transitioned into a deep, deep navy and reminiscing about the tales your grandmother told you of so long ago.

It was peaceful. It was easy. You were content. 

And then… the sky went dark.

You woke up one day to the sight of void-like clouds stagnating over the sky. At first, you paid them no heed, believing that a thunderstorm had decided to descend upon this region of the world. But as days and nights went by without a drop of rain, nor a flash of lightning, you began to realize that something was… wrong.

You weren’t the only one who’d noticed either. A trip to one of the villages nearby showed that everyone was talking about it, worriedly looking up at the black clouds. It was everywhere, they said. From the high mountains of the north to the low beaches of the south. The sky had turned caliginous. And no one had a clue as to why. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and there still was no break of sunlight or moonlight through the clouds. You were beginning to wonder if there ever would be. You overheard many talking in quiet whispers about the prayers they sent up to Suj’asti and D’armil—calling for them. Wondering where they had disappeared to and why they weren’t performing their duties. But the sky gods had gone silent. There was no one to answer. 

And as you sat in your little cottage—looking out at the open field before you that resided under that tenebrific sky—you decided that there was something that needed to be done. 

You packed a bag with necessities—food, money, water, your journals—and locked up your home. Then you were off, setting out on an adventure you hadn’t had the taste of in a long, long time. It made something spark in your bones—a feeling that brought you a nostalgia you found to be oh so dear. You were struck by the burning question of what happened? And you’d be damned if you returned empty-handed. 

You walked and walked and walked. You went to the capital to poke around and see if anyone knew anything. You explored villages in the forests and by the sea. You ventured into the lands of mythicals to ask if they had an inkling of what was going on—for surely as beings of legend, they would be more connected to the gods than simple mankind? But no, there was nothing. Not a peep, nor a shout. You searched on. 

You learned of the lost temple of the sky gods in a quaint village that rested at the foot of a red-tinted mountain. Where the people there were tuned to the earth and the air. They told you it was somewhere in the Forest of Isdu—a haunting place, where time seemed to stand still. Rarely did people venture into its looming trees, and rarely did they ever come back out. It was, in essence, the perfect place to hide secrets. The perfect place to go looking for something thought to have been lost. 

But that’s just it, the villagers reminded you, the temple was lost. Then they said no more. And you thought to yourself—well, you had nothing to lose. 

So you walked the long path to the Forest of Isdu and found yourself peering into the gloom that peeked out at you from between tree trunks and wild bushes. You clasped at the pendant that hung from the necklace around your neck in one hand and raised the other to allow a small light to dance around your fingers. Then you set one foot forward and disappeared beyond the treeline. 

The air was different here. It was settled in one place. And where the outside of the forest was teeming with the bumbling sounds of wildlife—chirping birds, rustling leaves, a whooshing breeze—the inside was quiet. Not dead, no. Just quiet. It unnerved you even more—made the soft hairs along your arms raise in unease. You dared not even breathe too loudly, for fear of what lurked around you.

But you pressed on, letting the golden light in your palm guide you around roots and low-hanging branches. Everything was darker here—a result of the thick canopies overhead and the dark sky beyond them. You whispered a spell into the still air to help lead you to the place you sought. You walked until your feet ached—until your shoulders pained you from bearing the weight of your bag. And just when you began to think that perhaps this was a fruitless endeavor, you spotted it—nestled deep between two leaf-ladened trees and covered in ivy. 

The lost temple of the sky gods was a mix of obsidian and swirling gold. Its architecture was noble yet ancient, with spiraling pillars on both sides of the dark, gaping entrance. There was no sign to tell you what it was or who it belonged to, precisely, but if you squinted, you could see the etchings of a crescent moon and the sun just above the entrance. You stared into it and had to suppress a shiver at the cool air that gently wafted out. Amid your unease, there was delight and relief at having found your destination. You internally thanked the magic you used to aid you. 

You let out a breath of air, squared your shoulders, and walked up the few steps of the temple. And before you could let your second thoughts sway you, you ventured forth into the temple and let your light shine brighter to illuminate its inside. It was even quieter in here, if that was even possible. 

The temple wasn’t too wide, but it was certainly tall, you noticed, as you gazed up and around. From what you could see, there was a rather large hole in the ceiling that let you see the inky sky. It was directly above a rather large, stone pedestal that had the remains of incense dusted atop it. You lowered your hand and looked to your left, where there was a gold-stoned statue of a tall, lithe being. It had its arms splayed up and out in a grandeur gesture. Triangular protrusions stuck out of its head, and its face was blank apart from a set of two eyes that were closed. You stepped closer to the base of the statue to peer down at the engraving upon it. 

Suj’asti, it read, E Kuz We-Suj. The god of sun. 

To the right was another statue, this one made of obsidian. It was also tall and lithe, with its arms splayed downwards at its sides and a long cap of sorts resting on its head. If you squinted, you could also see that its eyes were closed. The lack of a mouth was something you thought was strange, but not enough to greatly question it. You walked over to the statue to read its engraving as well. D’armil, E Kuz We-D’ar. The god of moon. 

Finally, you brought your hand forth to look at the last statue that rested directly beyond the pedestal—at the back of the temple. It was tall—taller than the two at its sides in a way that had your neck craned back to an uncomfortable degree. Unlike the gold and obsidian statues, this one was a deep burgundy that glinted in the light in your palm. It had four arms, two of which were crossed over its chest in an ‘x’, while the other two were clasped in front of it like it was saying a prayer. It too had its eyes closed and no mouth, along with many triangle protrusions around its head that varied in length. 

You looked at it curiously—it was not a deity you recognized. And in your curiosity, you rounded the pedestal to stand at its feet and look down. 

There was no name etched at its base. Instead, there was a sentence—one that you read quietly aloud. 

“E Suj kaamo, e D’ar muuso,” you murmured, your lips gently forming around the familiar words. “Taayta, e K’es.” The Sun rises, the Moon follows. Awaken, the Eclipse. 

The temple seemed to hum around you. 

It was a sudden thing that reverberated in your bones and sunk deeply into your heart. Your head snapped up and you spun around to dart your gaze about. From the still Sun statue to the Moon statue. And then you noticed a light was starting to appear from above—through the hole in the ceiling. You stepped closer to the pedestal so you could look up and through the hole in surprise and awe. The light started off as a faint pink, but as you watched the dark clouds above finally, finally part to make way for the sky, it suddenly deepened into a blood red that spanned across your face. 

Your wonder was replaced by a sinking feeling of horror in a heartbeat as the sun revealed itself, covered by the moon and turning the sky into a deep hue of orange. 

An eclipse. 

Cold washed over your figure. The temple hummed louder around you and shook minutely. You stumbled away from the pedestal, gripping at your pendant tight, tight, tighter as you felt this burning feeling land upon you. What was happening? You had no idea—there was only this sense of dread, so thick and potent that you were getting choked up. You looked at the two statues at your sides again before your gaze finally darted to the one standing in front of you, separated from you by the pedestal. 

Its eyes were wide open—burnt mandarin with tiny void-like pupils. 

And it was staring right at you. 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

In a surge of motion the statue stepped forward—only, it wasn’t a statue anymore. It was a living, breathing being of sorts, with vibrant eyes that lit up half the temple on their own in a hellish glow, and a face and body that was half black and half blood red. Darkness seemed to cling to it, draping along its torso and shoulders. Its arms unfolded from their positions, stretching out stiffly before they pulled up and around its body in a foreboding manner that made you step back. Claws—sharp and wicked—extended from its fingers. It loomed crookedly towards you over the pedestal and seemed to stop, head cocked to the side as it continued to stare at you. 

You froze immediately, the golden light in your hand trembling slightly before it shrunk and disappeared. Its absence made you feel cold, but you couldn’t find it in you to summon it again. You swallowed thickly and watched as the protrusions from the being’s head rippled around it like a wave. Its head rotated in a way that was inhuman. There was something heavy in the air—something that made you press your lips tightly together until you were sure they were nothing but a thin, straight line. 

You were locked in a staring contest with it. One that you weren’t certain how long would last. 

You weren’t sure what it was doing, frozen like that over the pedestal. Maybe it was assessing you like you were assessing it. Your eyes darted about at the slightest of twitches it made in its fingers and its head. Those small, black pupils did not once leave your form. You didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what to say. You had never heard of such a being before. Maybe it was a deity, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, you were dead if you didn’t do something soon. Your bag seemed to weigh heavily against your back. Your muscles tensed. 

And with all the strength you had in your body, you took a small step back. 

Immediately, the being’s pupils dilated until its entire eyes were a midnight hue, cutting off one of the sources of light illuminating the temple. It jerked and shuddered, then seemed to grow even bigger as you stepped back again—towards the temple’s entrance. Its voice cut through the air—deadly, swift—from a mouth that did not exist on its face.

“Käwshka, käwshka!” the being—K’esyo, Eclipse—hissed out in a deep, grating voice that made something drop in the pit of your stomach. He spoke in a language you did not recognize—something ancient that had been lost eons ago from your people. But you didn’t need to understand what he was saying to know that you were in terrible, terrible danger. You scrambled backwards with a yelp and he surged forward, stepping easily over the pedestal and covering the distance you’d made in a few, powerful steps. “J’a syo twe— k-käwshka! Onyi méfe! Shash jawt, shash jaaawt.” 

You wanted to scream, but your voice was caught up in your throat. And before you could spin yourself around on your heel to sprint out of the temple, Eclipse lunged at you. You threw your arms up over your head as though that could protect you and braced yourself for impact.

Only—nothing happened. And after a few seconds of standing there, cowering under your arms, you tentatively peeked through them, wondering if your death had been so swift that you hadn’t even noticed.

Eclipse’s sharp claws were inches before your face, glinting in the blood red light. The sight made your heart hammer in your chest, adrenaline shooting through your veins. You blinked at them, then lowered your arms as you realized he was straining to reach you. But he couldn’t touch you, even as you were before him, doused in his ominous shadow. You gaped up at him, then looked down at your hand clenching the ruby pendant atop your chest. It was slightly aglow. Your grandmother’s words whispered in your ears. 

He couldn’t hurt you. Not when you had your necklace on. 

The thought was oddly empowering. 

Eclipse snarled—a viscous thing that scratched at your ears—and reared back so that snarl could turn into a tumultuous roar. “Mbanpe, mbanpe! Onyi méfe! Shash jawt!” His voice seemed to switch between a rough, deep sound to one that was a bit higher pitched, though still as sharp as a blade’s edge. You backed away slowly as he appeared to fight with himself, bloodlust tinging his every movement. His upper arms grasped at the protrusions on his head while the lower two curled outwards like he was still trying to grab you. “Těmbiiiing. Mahù go mběl— těmbing! Käwshka syo twe p-p-ponkul.” 

He growled frustratedly after a moment, upper hands starting to claw viciously at his head. Perspiration rolled down the side of your face. Whatever was going on with Eclipse, it was certainly nothing you were prepared to deal with. You swallowed thickly and seized a chance where he was distracted with himself to look behind you. The temple’s entrance wasn’t too far away from you. Maybe you could make a run for it—use the shelter of the forest to hide yourself away. 

Resolute in your decision, you glanced back in front of you out of precaution and immediately let out a yelp as Eclipse lunged towards you once again. You ducked down, your arms shielding your head, and watched his shadow pass over your body. Then you lowered your arms and twisted your torso around to stare behind you—through the temple’s entrance that Eclipse had flown through. 

He had landed just outside and was staring up at the sky through the canopies that lay oddly still above him. The red lighting from the eclipse cast everything in a devilish glow, falling upon the leaves and ground in a way that made them look like they were drenched in blood. Your breaths bated, you watched Eclipse jerk and shudder, his arms moving sporadically before he suddenly stilled. His head snapped towards a direction—you could not see his face from your angle—and before you could even blink, he growled and bolted. 

You stared, dumbfounded, at the spot where he had just been. You’d been forgotten just like that, it seemed. But instead of relief, you only felt this mounting sense of horror—so strong that you scrambled to your feet and took off after him, following the sounds he made as he crashed through shrubs and trees alike. Your mind raced as you mapped out the surrounding land in your mind. The Forest of Isdu wasn’t too far from a small, sleepy village that was positioned to the East. The paths and trails that led to it tended to have the occasional passerby or traveler wandering about. Your jaw clenched as you realized the direction he was heading in.

Eclipse couldn’t hurt you, but he could certainly hurt others. 

And you couldn't let that happen.

[drunk-person]

The party (Modern Au) P.2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and uncle and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: After five years of no contact, Y/n and Aemond meet again at Cece Lanister's birthday party, and the sparks can be seen from miles away.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, fingering, Oral Sex, excessive teasing, breeding fetish (only at the end) no description for reader.

A/N: Want to listen to music while reading the chapter? Problem By Natalia Kills will definitely hit. Comments and suggestions are welcome 💕

Word count: 4.350

Cece Lanister's house was brightly lit outside and dark with flashing lights inside, it was filled with the highest class people in Westeros, and Y/n smiled sweetly as she entered the house attracting looks from all sides.

Her innocent and sweet smile didn't match at all with the short black dress with thin straps that she wore for the night, nor with the silver heels that made her legs even more beautiful than usual.

-Y/n! -Cece's voice came, walking towards her with a glass of gym in her hands, even more smiling than before. - You came!

-But of course. -She gave the girl a hug when she responded, and when she let go she handed her a golden package. - Happy birthday Cece.

-Thanks! - She replied, already opening Y/n's gift and smiled widely when she saw a gold bracelet with a ruby ​​lion pendant, and placed it on her arm at the same moment. - I loved it Y/n, and it matches my outfit!

-That's good, Cece... - Before she could say anything else, Cece pulled her through the crowd of people dancing around the large living room.

-Come on, let's get you something to drink.

Curious eyes followed her, and Y/n just smiled at everyone as was common for her, Cece guided her to a bar that had been set up close to the main staircase of the room. And after receiving a cup of Gym from Cece's hands, she distanced herself a little, going in the opposite direction, taking advantage of the fact that her friend had gone to receive more newcomers.

Y/n watched the party attentively, her eyes wandering from side to side in search of silver hair among other so common ones, the minutes passed and she still hadn't seen any sign of his presence. And just as she was beginning to think that going there had been a huge waste of time, she saw him. Stopping near the bar with his typical look of superiority observing the environment, clearly not happy with being there.

Bingo.

She felt her heart fail momentarily when she saw him after so long, her eyes watered a little and she quickly wiped them away. Aemond was even taller than before, which she thought would be impossible, his hair was also longer and tied back in a half ponytail. He was wearing black pants and a button-down shirt with a leather jacket over it, and Y/n lost her breath a little at the sight.

And after taking a breath, Y/n downed the last sip of Gym that was left in the glass and headed towards the bar again with a wide smile on her face.

❦❦❦

Aemond couldn't believe he was at that stupid party at that time. He would wait a few more minutes and leave as quickly as possible, Helaena had just left, nothing was keeping him there now. Maybe Floris, but he didn't care enough to make any kind of sacrifice for her, and certainly not enough to stay at a stupid birthday party.

Floris made a sign pointing to the stairs as she followed one of her friends upstairs and Aemond just rolled his eyes without paying much attention, while shaking the glass of drink in his hand. And it was then that his eyes went up to the room again and he saw her.

Walking towards him with confident steps and a sweet smile on her face. Aemond felt his whole body heat up the moment he laid eyes on her, Y/n looked even more beautiful than before. Her hair was longer and fell in cascades to frame her face, she wore a tiny black dress with high heels, and Aemond couldn't help but think that she had dressed like that on purpose to tease him.

The closer she got, the more he felt his blood boil under his skin, unable to take his eyes off her. And when she got to him and hugged him in front of everyone with that sweet smile, he thought he was going to explode.

-How long cousin. - The sweet voice caused goosebumps on his skin and tremors in places he didn't want to mention.

Aemond wanted to be strong enough, but her perfume invaded his nostrils and he couldn't help but breathe deeply in search of more of her scent as he hugged her back, trying his best not to pull her too much towards him.

-Really a long time. - He said with a restrained voice as the two let go of the hug.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows when she noticed his indifference towards her. Aemond was never indifferent towards her. He was passionate, angry, fiery, hateful, but never indifferent. He could be indifferent to everything and everyone, but not to her.

-Did you miss me?

She looked at him with that sweet look that could fool anyone by making her look so good and innocent, but Aemond could see right through it. He could see the malice burning through her eyes, he could see the subtle bite on her bottom lip, he could see her slightly curving her left eyebrow as she stared at him. This could never end well.

-Because I missed you, every day. - She said, getting even closer to him, making Aemond's gaze fall on her breasts, which were certainly bigger, and on them the beautiful silver necklace with a heart-shaped sapphire as a pendant.

Y/n smiled when she noticed where Aemond's eyes had gone, staring at her cleavage as if he were going to devour her breasts right there. He wasn't so indifferent after all.

-I missed so much that look you have when you want me.- She whispered close to his ear amid the loud music.

-Don't talk about it in public. - Aemond growled at her tensely while Y/n kept smiling.

-He doesn't even look like the same guy who stuck his fingers in me in the middle of a dance floor in Harrenhall, and only didn't stick something else in because the party ended early. - She spoke softly while pouting, teasing him.

-Y/n. - Aemond growled her name between his teeth, sawing his hands into fists in an attempt not to drag her away.

-Okay, if you don't like showing off anymore, let's go somewhere more solitary. - She said, turning her back and walking towards the furthest coat closet on the other side of the room next to the door.

And he told himself he wouldn't follow, but he couldn't help it. It was as if he no longer had control over his own body, being guided exclusively by the swing of her hips. Y/n entered the closet and shortly after Aemond followed her, entering and closing the door behind him, facing her in the dark.

-Do you know the consequences of all this if it comes to light in the media? Besides the fact that it's wrong, we're cousins Y/n, my father and your father are brothers, we can't do this. Not anymore. - His voice was irritated while his eyes burned, making Y/n smile.

-My father and Laena are cousins ​​too. - She rolled her eyes using a statement that Aemond himself had made a few years ago.

-Y/n that's wrong and you know it. We both know, we are adults now.

-And what about the things we did together? And all the dirty things you said to me? And when you came into my room in the middle of the night after fighting with Aegon and I let you do what you wanted with me? - She spoke ironically with arched eyebrows. - It didn't feel wrong at all when you were practically begging to be between my legs.

-We shouldn't have done those things. - Aemond spoke while staring at her lips and Y/n pouted when she heard him say that, Aemond bit his own lip at her gesture and then spoke slowly, holding his breath, as if the mere act of breathing in her presence hurt him.

- It was all wrong, a perversion.

-Are you repeating everything your mother says now? -She asked laughing as she looked at him.

- So answer me Aemond, if all this is so wrong and dirty, why did you come after me?

Aemond had no response and Y/n knew why. She then approached Aemond, leaving her lips close to his ear, almost brushing him.

-I didn't let anyone put their hands on my body Aem. - She practically purred. - Not even once. Only your hands have touched me. But since you don't want me anymore, then I'll look for someone who does, because it's been so long and I'm so needy. -At this point she was almost rubbing her own body against his while she spoke in his ear.

Aemond lost his temper. He grabbed her by the sides of her head tangling his hands through the strands of her hair, his fingers against her chin pressing firmly as he looked into her eyes with his own gaze burning in fury at the idea of ​​someone else touching what was always his.

And unable to contain himself, he pushed her against the door and kissed her roughly, taking her lips on his in the way he had wanted to do for the last five years. The kiss was wet and angry and they both bit each other's lips hungrily. Y/n pushed his jacket off his shoulders and Aemond let it fall to the floor, still kissing her lips furiously.

He ran his hands down Y/n's body, squeezing every curve again, every place he knew made her crazy with desire. And she released him from the kiss, sighing and throwing her head against the door when she felt his demanding touch pulling her more and more towards him.

-Always such a wanton whore to me, aren't you? - He asked, biting her earlobe, and Y/n agreed, nodding her head eagerly.

Aemond's head was spinning, and the only thing he knew at that moment was that he wanted her. And with that thought he kissed down Y/n's neck and shoulders until he reached the neckline of the black dress she wore. He pulled the straps down releasing her breasts to him, and Aemond automatically sighed at the sight.

-They're bigger. - He said, extending his hands and caressing them as if he missed them.

-Five years. -She moaned when she felt his mouth on her breasts and Aemond smiled as he sucked her right breast and squeezed the left one with his hand.

-They're still perfect. - He hissed as he moved his mouth to her left breast and sucked it too, making Y/n sigh and pull his hair making a mess.

Aemond then guided his left hand between Y/n's legs, moving her panties to the side and extending his fingers towards her intimacy.

-Always so wet for me. - He moaned against her breasts, sucking and nibbling them hungrily.

-Just for you Aemond. - She squirmed against his fingers.

-Damn. - Aemond cursed as he inserted two fingers into her heat. - So tight.

He then dragged her arousal further up and caressed Y/n's bud slowly as he admired the expressions of pleasure on her face. Little by little he increased the speed, just as he knew she liked, and she softly moaned his name as she whimpered needily, pulling him closer and closer.

-Aemond, inside please.

And he turned his hand down, sticking two fingers inside her while he continued stroking her clitoris with his palm, and Y/n screamed softly in his ear as she squirmed. He could feel her walls compressing against his fingers, he could feel her spasms against his palm and when she came almost collapsing against him, Aemond kissed her again and bit the lipstick-red lips still caressing her in the midst of her climax.

Aemond practically ripped the zipper off his pants and then pulled them down as he roughly lifted Y/n's dress up to her waist leaving it stuck there. And without warning, he pulled her legs up by his thighs and roughly invaded her while he moaned with his head buried in her neck. Y/n threw her head against the door and clung tightly to Aemond as she whimpered.

-It's bigger. - She moaned against his ear and Aemond laughed lightly.

-Five years.

-Idiot..

He didn't let her finish as he began to fuck her brutally, squeezing her thighs and hips as if her life depended on it. The loud music outside drowned out the noises of pleasure they both were making and the wet sounds that came from the act. Aemond bit Y/n's neck and her breasts, leaving love marks everywhere, and she scratched his back, pulling him closer and closer to her while she bit and kissed her jaw and neck.

-More more. - She begged him.

-Fuck, love, I won't last long, it's been so long. - He sighed, biting her ear.

-Okay, I'm almost there. - She said, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling him into an animalistic kiss.

Aemond moved trying to alter her position a little and then penetrated her again and Y/n had to bite his shoulder when he hit that perfect spot inside her that made her see stars. The older man smiled victoriously and picked up speed again while Y/n restrained herself from screaming, he felt her pussy twitching against his dick and he moaned uncontrollably against her lips, and once again he lowered his lips to her breasts and He started sucking them greedily.

Y/n was so close, she could feel the pressure in her belly pulling her down, the uncontrollable tremors, her legs pressing more and more against Aemond's narrow hips.

- Aemond, please. - Y/n sighed and he squinted his eyes when he heard the sound. - Cum inside me, I want to feel you so much, I miss you so much. - She begged in his ear, and Aemond exploded inside her, making her come soon after with the sensation of Aemond's essence spreading inside her.

Aemond writhed with pleasure, her pussy was milking him firmly and he thought he could die at that moment, because if he died with his cock buried in that delicious pussy he would die happy.

The two were panting against each other, still holding each other, Y/n still with her legs firmly crossed against Aemond's back. He slowly released her, and recovering his rhythmic breathing, Aemond gently pulled her legs from her back, lowering her back to the floor and took a step back, admiring her, while Y/n tried to stay standing with her wobbly legs.

And when Aemond looked at her he couldn't help but sigh. Y/n was standing against the door, her hair was a mess, her makeup was all smeared, her neck and breasts were covered in red marks. Her dress was gathered at her waist and her breasts were exposed, with her erect nipples rising and falling with her still irregular breathing. The panties still on were stuck between her crotch and thigh, leaving her pussy exposed with their mixed fluids leaking down between her thighs.

Y/n, realizing where his gaze had gone, took her right hand to her own intimacy and using her index and middle fingers, she rubbed Aemond's seed against herself, moaning his name in the process.

Aemond advanced on her again at the same moment and knelt on the wooden floor, pulling her panties down and putting them in the pocket of the jacket he had thrown on the floor. He then pulled her thighs, pinning them against him neck itself.

-What will you do? - She sighed even though she already had an idea, Aemond always loved sucking.

-Finish what I started that day. - He replied, then sucking her sensitive pussy greedily, making her scream his name without caring about the other guests at the party.

He continued sucking and kissing her as he felt her shudder and heard her screams and moans without caring if anyone else could hear. The music was very loud, and so was the noise of people, but at that point Aemond didn't know if he would care if it wasn't. He penetrated her spongy interior with his tongue and with the movements he made, his nose pressed against her clitoris in the exact way he knew drove her crazy.

-Aemond I can't. - She sighed.

-Another. - He begged against her intimacy. - Let me feel your taste, I missed your sweet taste so much. Let me taste you.

And when she heard him saying those words, Y/n came against Aemond's lips, contorting in pleasure with tears running down her cheeks. Aemond tasted her against his own tongue, groaning with contentment and absorbing every drop of her essence.

-Delicious. - He groaned finally, leaving a kiss on her sensitive button and she gasped at the feeling.

He stood up again and helped Y/n remain standing as she balanced herself against his body. Aemond readjusted the straps of the dress on her shoulders and lowered it again to cover her thighs. And then he picked up his own jacket from the floor and put it on again.

-I can't stay here like this. I look like…

-Fucked? - Aemond asked with a malicious smile.

-Very well fucked. - She purred at him, boosting Aemond's ego even more.

-Let's get out of here. - He said, already pulling her towards him and opening the closet door.

The two crossed the crowd of people dancing and shouting in the dark and quickly headed towards the door without saying goodbye to anyone.

❦❦❦

Aemond's apartment wasn't too far away, being in one of the city's privileged areas. The car ride there was short as the two talked and laughed.

-What is Aegon doing? - She asked laughing.

-Nothing, as usual. - Aemond laughed back, looking really only 23 years old now. - Our offices are on the same floor, he arrives after 12:00 pm and leaves at 4:00 pm.

-Typical Aegon. -She rolled her eyes, still amused, but suddenly becoming more interested as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. - But what about you? How's work? Have you reached the vice presidency yet?

Aemond smirked as he turned the steering wheel while making a left turn.

-I have a lot of work to do, and I think it's unlikely that anyone will be vice president at my age.

-Ah, but not you. - She smiled beautifully at him, making Aemond's hands tingle. - I think I can see you performing any role without any problems Aem.

-I'm the deputy director of technology. - He smiled looking at her sideways.

-I knew it, he's already vice-president of something, he never does anything halfway. -She rolled her eyes and Aemond murmured softly while he smiled sideways.

The car entered the building's parking lot and the two went towards the elevator, at a safe distance from each other, and when Aemond opened the door and the two stepped into the apartment he barely finished closing it before jumping on it again. , grabbing Y/n hungrily as if the two hadn't just been on top of each other.

-I thought that all of this was a mistake, and that we were both young and perverted. - Y/n spoke against his lips.

-Screw this. I do not care. I just want you, I just want your body. Let me have you again. - He said, already taking his hands to the hem of her dress and ripping it off over her head, leaving her naked in the middle of the living room, wearing only her silver high heels and the sapphire necklace.

-You can have me whenever you want, and however you want. - She said, pulling him by his hair for a slow and wet kiss. - You know that.

Aemond threw her over his shoulders and carried her towards the bedroom while Y/n screamed and laughed in his arms. He violently dropped her onto the bed while he ripped his own shirt over her head, looking at her naked with just those heels and the necklace lying on the bed looking at him while biting her lip.

-Seven hells how can you have become even more beautiful? - He said as he took off his pants ready to take her for himself, and then he noticed her thighs still with traces of his seed and a thought struck him.

-Are you taking contraceptives? - Aemond's voice was fearful as he remembered this question.

Y/n bit her lower lip with a mischievous smile, shaking her head as she removed her shoes and threw them on the floor. Her eyes shining with that malice that drove Aemond crazy, her hair falling wildly across her face, framing it, her naked body spread across the sheets.

Aemond really wanted to feel angry, he should have felt angry at the prospect of getting Y/n pregnant, but the only thing he felt was a twinge in his lower abdomen when he saw her deny it.

-Y/n. - He practically growled her name while staring at her without knowing if she was serious or not.

She knelt on the bed without bothering to cover Aemond's own nakedness and faced him smiling while she crossed her hands behind his neck and pulled him close to her.

-What's it? - She bit his ear. - Have you changed that much, Aem? - She asked in a sweet voice, looking up at him under her long eyelashes.

-I remember when you begged me to let you come inside me, asked me to plant your seed in my uterus. You said he didn't care if we were only 17, because you wanted to see me grow up with your son. That you didn't care about anything else because then everyone would know that I was only yours…

Y/n barely finished speaking when Aemond pulled her by the knees, knocking her back onto the bed and climbing over her.

-How can you be such a bitch? - He asked and without giving her the chance to respond he kissed her again passionately, biting her lips and sucking her tongue.

Aemond didn't give any warning, he just penetrated her, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes while he moaned with satisfaction at the feeling of her wet heat around him.

-Damn. You bring out the worst in me. - He moaned as he gave a strong thrust inside her, making her gasp and dig her nails into his back.

-I don't care, I like your worst. - She whimpered. - Give me more, be the worst it can be, I can take it.

And Aemond slapped her in the face, making her moan as she rolled against his cock. He pulled out of her, making her say his name in protest, but before he could say anything else he roughly turned her onto her stomach, throwing her against the sheets and penetrating her again without warning, making her scream with the new depth.

-All right? - He panted against her back.

-Yeah. - She sighed. - I want you so much, I missed you so much.

Aemond bit her back and thrust hard into her making Y/n gasp beautifully for him. He slapped her left ass cheek and fucked her hard right after, setting a brutal pace that made the bed creak beneath them as they both panted desperately.

-Whore. Always a greedy whore who doesn't know when to stop.

-I am. - She gasped with tears streaming down her face. - You whore, Aemond. Only yours. Please…

He gave her ass another slap making her gasp as more hot tears ran down her beautiful face.

-You will look so beautiful when you are carrying my child. And then you won't be able to pretend to be so sweet and good when you're in public, everyone will know that you let me fuck you and do whatever I wanted with your body. That you begged your own cousin to give you his seed. - His voice was crazy amidst the pleasure and the panting. Sweat dripped down Aemond's chest amid the thrusts.

-Imagine when it comes out in all the newspapers and magazines that you are pregnant and I am the father. No one will ever dare try to take you away from me again, you will be all mine forever. Even more beautiful than she already is carrying my children. - Possessiveness dripped from his lips with those words, and he squeezed her hips with such force that they would certainly leave marks the next morning.

Y/n cried with pleasure as she writhed beneath Aemond as she heard him saying such dirty things, her entire body went into a frenzy of uncontrolled pleasure, and the coil of growing pleasure in her lower abdomen exploded all at once as she she screamed Aemond's name amidst the pleasure, digging her nails into the sheets and pressing her face against the pillows.

-Imagine when the news reaches Old town. - He sighed evilly, fucking her during her orgasm. - That the very sweet Y/n who spent five years studying at the septa conservatory left her own cousin to fuck and get pregnant. Everyone will know, I will make sure that everyone knows that the baby that will grow in you is mine.

-Aemond. - She whimpered against the pillows. And he came deep inside her, leaving a bite on her right shoulder lost in the midst of the pleasure.

-Take all of me. - He panted while still inside her. - All for you.

And after that he collapsed on top of her exhausted with heavy breathing, he knew that Y/n was joking, since her favorite pastime was teasing him, but Aemond couldn't really care about the fact that she was possibly being serious and he actually getting pregnant at that moment. He then turned them on their side while still inside her hugging her from behind and buried his head in the crook of Y/n's neck feeling that delicious orange smell that he had missed so much, and finally slept completely peacefully after years.

And only the next morning did Aemond vaguely remember, Floris.

next chapter

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