#she had lavender in her hair: mirror

[luminiamore]

SOUL, PT.2

basketball player ony x black spiritual reader

first part here.

warnings: bomb dick, vibrating panties (idea came to me last minute)

masterlist

The day finally arrived. The man you had been crushing on for months— the man who sucked the soul out of pussy just two days ago— was taking you out on a date. Your nerves were racking up, your breathing heavy as you stared at yourself in your mirror. The scent of lavender and the burning blunt you just rolled are lingering in your nostrils. It was 5 p.m., 30 minutes before Ony told you he was coming with your outfit.  

You were stuck in the mirror, fixing the baby hairs on your ginger wig as you took another hit. Your head was being hit pretty hard by the effects of the marijuana. Your gold and stone bracelets jiggled around with every movement you made. Why were you so nervous? This is the same man that slobbered over your clit on your clit appallingly not too long ago. So, why were you so nervous? You jumped when you heard a ding coming from your phone. 

“omw mama.”

Another hit. You read the text without even clicking on the message, and if Ony was the type of nigga to go 50 on a 20 road, you had about 10 minutes before he came knocking on your door. You quickly wrap a pink silk robe from one of your hangers on your body, not putting on panties because you have a gut feeling. You already showered, already lathered your body in your strawberry body milk. Your light makeup sat perfectly against your skin, your lips brown and glossed.

The only thing left for you to do was to spray a bit of your Kayali Sugar Candy perfume, and after the final spritz, you heard a light knocking sound coming from outside your room. Your heart is beating ten times faster— he didn’t even tell you he was outside. Another hit, and you ash it out outside your window. 

Your feet could barely be heard on the ground as you rushed to open the door and shit. Seeing Ony outside of his usual attire was doing more to you than you cared to admit. He was in a white dress shirt and black suit pants— all dressed up for the date he was taking you on. His hair was freshly cut, the first two buttons on his shirt were loose, and he had a freshly ripened hibiscus bouquet in his right hand and a medium-sized bag on his left. How did he know those were my favorite flowers?

“Heard you tell that girl you always with that you really liked these.” He smirks a bit when your eyes widen in realization that you said your thoughts out loud. You grab the flowers from his grasp, fingers burning when you accidentally graze his hand, and mutter a small, “Thank you, they’re beautiful. Come in, Ony.”

His aura alone was so potent, so calm and safe, and inside, you knew your spirit guides were probably cheering you on. Your cat’s immediate approach to him, rubbing its head on his legs, was a sign that you made the right choice. Waiting for him to pet her, she plopped down on the floor, and unsurprisingly, Ony crouched down to honor her wishes.

You wanted him to take you now, but you knew Ony was a man of his word. He wouldn’t fuck you until after tonight. You just had to wait until after tonight. You glance up to where a regular clock is hanging above your door. 

5:25.

..Waiting until after tonight suddenly seemed like forever. 

“Not as beautiful as you. You smoking in here?” The smell of it was immediately detected when you opened the door. He smiled internally because he was waiting outside your apartment in his Hellcat while he texted you and lit his own joint. You really were meant for each other. 

Ony thought you looked good enough to eat. Again. Nothing but a thin robe on you, accentuating your curves and showing a slight peak of your voluptuous brown tits. Flashes of you moaning his name and bucking your hips wildly onto his tongue started slipping into his mind— would it really be wrong to taste you again?

Your pretty voice breaks him out his thoughts, “Yea, you want a hit? Or two?” You release a chuckle, the sound making the tall man shiver a bit. He takes a deep breath— patience. He has to have patience. You’ll be moaning his name soon enough.

“Nah, was smoking before I got here. Here, mama.” He hands you the bag he was holding after you got done putting the flowers on your kitchen counter. You were a bit.. skeptical when Ony asked if he could dress you for tonight, worried that he might choose an outfit that you wouldn’t like. 

What you didn’t know is that Ony observed you. Studied your peculiarities and the way you dressed when you walked up into Econ, he wouldn’t have asked such a question otherwise. He had precise knowledge of what to give you, and it was evident when you took the bag from him and found an exquisite crochet skirt set. 

The skirt ended with shades of light to a deep royal purple, and the top had no straps. Flower patterns were all over it. There was also a pair of shoes, white mini heels with thin straps. And when you reached the bottom of the bag, you saw panties, purple, and flower patterns all over it, too. 

“Ony, this is- It’s gorgeous. I-”

He kisses your cheek and gently pushes the items to your chest, “Go put ’em on. Reservation’s at 6:30.”

You giggle and nod, rushing to your room on your tiptoes. In your living room, Ony is waiting for you, lying down on your comfortable couch and petting your cat after she jumps onto his lap. He has reason to believe that you two wouldn’t make it outside if he came inside your room with you. 

You take your time, slowly putting each piece on to not stretch the crochet material. Your last step was the panties, and you couldn’t help but feel that they were slightly heavier than any of the panties you owned. You’re about to examine it a little more, but you stop short when you hear Ony’s voice: “You ready, mama?”

Any confusion about the panties was long gone after you put them on, following the heels. After spritzing your perfume one more time, you grab your keys and head out the door, Ony following closely behind you. 

It was a peaceful ride to wherever Ony was taking you, with only soft Brent Faiyaz music playing in the background and the light-burning sound of the half-finished joint he offered you. At every red light stop, you would let him take the hit until both of you finished it. 

He parked his car in front of a garden-like spot just before you ashed it out, just in time. You are about to reach your hand to open your door but fall short when you hear a click!

“You should know better.” Was all he said before he got out of the driver’s seat and got to your side. As he opens the door for you, he grabs your hand to guide you out and leads you to a person who is ready to seat you both. Hand in yours the entire time. “Reservation for Onyankopon, please.”

The man gives a smile and gestures for you both to follow him. It would be an understatement to describe how beautiful the area was when you surveyed it. It was like a restaurant in a garden of flowers. You are led by the person to a table surrounded by grass and daises, with occasional butterflies flying around you. 

“How did you even find this place?” You ask in complete awe. Ony spent a while trying to find a place he knew you would like. You didn’t seem like the type of person to like classy restaurants, and he definitely didn’t want to take you to some low-end place. He wanted to find something that resembled you. A place where you would feel completely comfortable. 

And well, when you sat down, and a white butterfly made its way onto your awaiting finger... Ony couldn’t help but think he made the right choice. You look like a goddess. An ethereal being that was all his. “I drove by it one time, and it reminded me of you. You like it?”

He hoped you did. The expression on your face wasn’t telling him enough. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth, or else he would drown in his anxiety. All he wanted to do was please you. 

“I love it, Ony.” A bright smile graced your face. You never looked more pretty— aside from when you made those gorgeous faces when he was pleasuring you. 

A server came to take your order, Ony ordering for himself before the woman turned to you, 

“And for you, miss?”

“Could I please have the-” The sensation of intense pressure vibrating on your clit causes you to stop your sentence with a faint gasp. Both of your hands are gripping the table to provide support.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

“You good, mama?” You look up when Ony questions and catch the faux concern in his eyes, his lips twitching up a bit as he almost fails to contain his smile. This was his doing. You knew those panties were different. And you seriously should’ve questioned why he bought you a pair anyway. Fuck it felt so good.

You steady your voice so you don’t stutter when you speak up, “… I’m okay. Could... I have the-the Shrimp Fried Rice, p-please.”

You curse yourself internally when you stumble upon your words. You observe as she reluctantly nods and accepts your order. You would’ve flushed your head down in embarrassment, but in your defense, you had a vibrator going at full speed on your clit. Fuck whatever she was thinking about you right now. 

The minute she walks away from the table, you give Ony the meanest glare you could muster— which, to him, wasn’t doing much. In retaliation, he just turned the vibration up, causing you to yelp silently. 

“Ony! W-why?” You whimper out as quietly as you can so as not to raise attention from the people around you. He just shakes his head, amused at how weak he could get you. 

“You look so pretty like this, mama. Enjoy yourself, hm? You deserve it.” 

He couldn’t get his mind off the events that occurred when you came to his dorm. Could you even blame him? For wanting to see more of those pretty faces you make. For wanting to eat you whole again.

He realized he couldn’t outright finger you in a public setting, not here anyway. He didn’t want to wait to fuck you so he could witness you fall apart like you did last time. He longs for you with a strong desire. Even 72 hours later, the flavor of your juices is still lingering on his tongue. “But-”

“Shh. Just try not to get too loud, yeah? Don’t want anyone else seeing those gorgeous faces you make.”

Squeezing your thighs together, your head falls back against your chair. This goes on for a good while, Ony just staring at you, biting your lips to stop the moans bottling in your throat from getting too loud. He watches as your pretty lashes flutter open and close while your eyes roll in the back of your head.

You rub your lower hips against the chair subtly in quick, fast motions to stave off your impending orgasm. Light gasps released from your throat when you feel a burning sensation in your abdomen. Just when you start feeling like the dam is about to burst and ruin the only thing that holds you up right now, everything comes to an end. 

The vibration, your rubbing— nothing but your ears buzzing can be heard until you finally register what just happened. You don’t have time to dwell on it much because your waiter comes back with what you both ordered. 

“Would you like some water, miss?” And this time, Ony grants you the mercy of answering for you, ears still buzzing and clit still twitching because of your ruined orgasm. 

“She would, please.” When the waiter walks away from your table, Ony almost cracks under the pleading look you give him. He can’t believe it took him this long to ask you out. What if someone got to you before him? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. 

Your soft and crackling voice reaches his ears, “Please, Ony. Let me-”

“Eat your food, mama. I said enjoy yourself, never said you could cum.”

Giving him a pout is all you can do, and his tone indicates that this is not a subject for discussion. The rest of the night went surprisingly well. The conversation was full of rich details about both of you. Only told you many stories about him, how he got to be a basketball player, and how it was a dream of his since he was a toddler. In return, you told him how you even started your spiritual journey, spoke about your childhood even because you were just so comfortable around him. 

He didn’t turn back on the vibrator for the remainder of the evening, only listening to the sweet melody of your voice whenever you said something or laughed at something he said. It seemed like you hadn’t been here for that long when the bill came. You were truly in the present moment with Ony, so you lost all sense of time. But you caught a glance at your phone— 9:30.

Damn. It’s already been three hours? Ony takes out his wallet and pulls out some cash. He gently grabs your hand to pull you out of your chair so that you and he can leave together. Before you know it, you both are on your way back to your apartment. What catches you off guard is the intense vibration from the restaurant coming back, causing you to let out a loud moan in his passenger seat. Your passenger seat after tonight, if he was being honest. 

Your body thrashes against the seat belt, hips bucking wildly because you are still so horny after being left on the edge like that. “F-Fuck!”

He pretends to be unfazed, his eyes still focused on the road as you release the honey moans contained in his car.

“Can you hold it f’me? You’re almost home, mama. I’ll make you cum as much as you want when we get there.”

He must like torturing you. That’s the only explanation. At his words, you don’t think you ever worked harder to stave off an orgasm in your life. The pressure feels so good, your body bubbling with heat and the pleasure being felt in every corner. You wail when the vibrator hits a particular spot on your clit due to your hips rapidly shaking and moving.

Your breathing starts to become erratic as you release light hiccups. Your efforts to not cum are so intense that tears are falling from your brown eyes. Why was it taking so long to get home?

“I n-need to.. cum. Please!”

How do you do that? Look so divine while your pussy is being overstimulated? He almost wants to let you have cum because you look so pretty while trying to beg for him. But then he thinks about how he doesn’t want you finishing on anything other than the massive tent in his pants, and he figures— you can wait a bit. He’s pulling up in your garage anyway, and he wasn’t going to fuck you in his car for your first time together. 

Your heavy breathing and the sudden slam of Ony’s door are all that remains in the car when he puts it in park. He opens your door and swiftly holds you in a bridal style to your apartment number. He presses light kisses to your cheek, his tatted hand rubbing gently on your wide hips.   

He doesn’t wait a second to devour your lips once you open your door, your moans being muffled by the sheer force of the kiss. His lips were soft and sweet against yours, fitting perfectly as your lip gloss was smeared onto him. Still in his hold, you weakly point to the direction of your room, which he follows wordlessly. Heels are long gone, and been thrown in the hall amid your make-out session. 

He plops you down on your mattress, and you don’t hesitate to yank him down towards you into another brutal make-out session, your smooth legs encircling his waist. You gasp when he firmly squeezes the fat of your tits, allowing him to dip his tongue into yours, deepening the kiss.

Fuck, you wanted him so bad. Your skirt rises, and soon, there’s nothing but his pants and your panties separating the two of you. Ony was unusually big.. you knew this when you first saw his print at his dorm. And right now, as he was fumbling to take his belt off, your mind was scrambling, trying to figure out how you were going to fit all of him inside of you. 

All thoughts went out the window when he ripped your damp panties off in one go and immediately started playing with the obscene amount of slick that’s been gathering ever since he came to pick you up. Your cute sounds are heaven to him.

His deep voice whispers in your ear, “You’re so wet, baby. Don’t need me to prep you, right?” 

His fingers are moving rapidly against your clit, as he is awestruck by how his hands keep slipping off out of rhythm due to your wetness. Or maybe he was already drunk on you, desperate to split your pussy apart on his cock. His pants aren’t even entirely off before he’s fisting his fat cock out of his boxers and slapping his brown tip right on your pussy lips, creating wet squelching sounds.

“Could just slip right in with how you’re leaking all over your sheets. You gonna take it, mama?”

And he was right. Your wetness was creating a dark stain on your bed, likely gonna start seeping into the mattress. You sneak a glance down at Ony’s ministrations, and you immediately try to move your hips away. This man was dead-ass walking around with a third leg. It was so big, it actually scared you. How the fuck was that supposed to fit inside of you? Even your last fling wasn’t this hung. 

He immediately pulled your hips back towards him, refusing to let you run away from the deep fucking he’s been craving to give you. “Don’t do that. Take it f’me, baby. Please?”

You whimper, his pleading tone getting you even more wetter. “O-Ony.. you’re too b-big! I can’t- Ooo fuck.”

You didn’t have time to finish your sentence before he sank his length past your tight walls, making you feel every inch of him. Fuck, he was so deep, and he almost wanted to cum right there. He looks down at you and shit. 

You never looked more beautiful, as he said. Your mouth is constructed into a lovely “o” shape, and your eyes roll back so deep into your skull he can see your white eye sockets. You were drooling, the feeling of his dick inside of you simply too much for your tiny brain to handle. He wasn’t gonna last long.

Your wet cunt was so stretched out, and Ony didn’t even give you a second to relax before he started feeding you deep, harsh strokes. You could do nothing but let tears fall from your eyes and wail his name so loud you’re sure you’ll probably get a noise complaint from your neighbors. 

“Gorgeous. Such a good girl taking my dick like this, you love it baby? Talk to me, mama.” He pleads as his face is buried in the crook of your sweat-filled neck, the feeling of your pussy being better than he ever imagined. Than he ever dreamed of. The sounds you both were making were so lewd, so nasty. But it was bringing you much closer to splashing all over his disheveled dress shirt.

“So-so good, Ony! L-Love it s’much.” Your pretty cries make him groan loudly against you; you can feel it vibrating against your chest. Your mind is blanking, and the fire in your stomach that you felt twice today is coming back, only much stronger. Your already overstimulated clit is causing it to come much faster.

With every thrust he gives you, you give Ony a beautiful yelp. And he could only watch your face contort as you struggle to find something to hold on to, to ground you. You’re a bit dense if you think he would let you do anything other than feel every spec of what he gave you. He grasps both of your hands with only one of his hands and presses them above your head.

“Pussy’s so damn good, shit. M’gonna cum. Where you want it, mama?” 

And you respond to him so eagerly, choking on your spit when he presses down on your stomach, his bulge being prominently displayed every time he thrusts in and out of you. 

“Ahhh! M-me too! Inside, Ony. P-Please Ony, cum in m-me.” 

He can’t say no to you, not when you beg him to fill you up with tears like that. The final straw for you was when he forced his tongue into your panting mouth again, swallowing every gasp and moan that managed to fall past your lips. You make a sudden and unwarranted shriek against his mouth, and your pussy splashes all over him. 

He groans as you babble his name repeatedly, allowing salty tears to flow freely down your cheeks. Your body twitches as your pussy creams and squeezes tightly around him, and that’s enough for Ony to shiver as his cum spurts past your womb. He should have slowed down or stopped because now you both feel overstimulated. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thrusting his hips rapidly against you, the feeling of you squirting on his dick quickly becoming something he wanted more of. He needs you to do that again. He needs you to spray your sweet juices so hard it reaches his face. Your chest is heaving as you try to wriggle your hands out of Ony’s grasp to slow him down. Your attempt doesn’t do much but make him tighten his grip on you,

“Give me another one, mama. Come on, just one more, baby.” And by the look on his face, even you can tell it wasn’t just going to be one more. You were in for a long night.

check out my store :D

[klausysworld]

Nik Michaels

Klaus had been going back to the same little art shop for weeks now. His studio at home was stacked with paints but it didn't stop him going back at least once every few days.

The little bell chimed gently above the door as he stepped inside the cozy room. The scent of lavender floated through the room whilst the soft hum of music drifted past the selection of canvases and shelves.

His eyes immediately searched for her familiar face.

Y/N was handing a customer their receipt along with a beautifully decorated paper bag which contained whatever supplies they had bought. He moved out the buyers way when they headed for the door and took their place at the till.

"Hi Nik." She greeted, a smile on her face which he couldn't help but mirror.

"Busy day, sweetheart?" He asked as that damned bell rang again and a fellow artist made their way inside.

"Always busy in New Orleans!" She chirped, her eyes bright and keen as she waved at the other woman in the shop.

Klaus hummed faintly and tapped his fingers gently against the wood that stood between them. He waited relatively patiently for her to serve the woman before waiting for her attention again.

She turned back to him and gave him a cute little head tilt. "You can't possibly need more paint?" She laughed, the sound ran right along his spine and he felt his hairs stand on edge.

"Well paints aren't all you sell now are they, love?" He grinned and she shook her head.

"Pick whatever you like." She told him, gesturing to the contents of her shop making him push that little pout to his face.

"You aren't going to come out from behind there and help?" He questioned, tone playful. Her cheeks went an adorable shade of pink as she pushed the pointless gate that separated her and her customers to come over to his side.

Klaus smiled as she came over to him. He loved when he got to be so close. She was the kindest, most gentle hearted person he had ever met.

His eyes took in the soft, beautiful features of her face before trailing downwards. Her dress was a soft shade of blue in colour, one of his favourites. The bodice was fitted perfectly, the built in cups showing the perfect shape of each of her breasts before the aline skirt hid the rest of her curves. He glanced to the comfortable but never less than pretty flats that adorned her feet. Klaus loved that she never wore heels, kept her small and dainty.

Klaus was certain that even without his superhuman strength, it would be easy to pick her up, spin her around, lift her up, catch her, anything.

His eyes snapped back up to hers, taking in the way her irises swirled with colour. Suddenly the realisation dawned on him that her soft lips were moving, he tuned back into the conversation.

"Canvases? Or do you want something else like uh the dream catchers and things? I know you don't usually but there are some more...masculine ones you could have..." She offered, eyes darting round the room as she spoke about different things and thought of anything else she could offer him. "I have candles and incense? Uh...evil eyes? Some things to bring luck and stuff? You don't seem like a crystal guy..." She murmured, thinking aloud and he couldn't help but feel a little amused.

"Not particularly, but for you sweetheart I could be." He smirked and Y/N looked down with a smile.

"What did you come in for Nik?" She asked and he clicked his tongue.

"Well.." He muttered, his expression never dulling. "I came in hoping for a date...perhaps you have a spare evening this week?" Klaus proposed, his eyes wondering over her again without meaning to.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, it wasn't the first time he had asked for a date; in fact he asked pretty much every single time he walked in there.

"Nik-" She sighed softly and he huffed.

"Oh come on sweetheart! Just one dinner, one glass of wine...one kiss...one touch...one-"

"Nik!" She scolded and he groaned unseriously.

"Y/N..." He borderline whined and she giggled. "I'll buy every last brush in this store. Every last tube of paint, every sheet of paper, everything for one evening where you're mine and mine alone."

"If you buy everything it'll take me forever to restock." She shrugged and he swallowed down the little growl that his wolf produced.

"Then I'll spend all week helping you stack the shelves," He grinned and looked down at her, wanting nothing more than to grab her perfect little face and kiss that teasing smile right off her face. "I'll have to lift you up to help you reach those high shelves. Do tell me love, how did you get those up their?" Klaus asked as he eyed the beginners painting gift sets that rest far to high up for her adorable height to reach.

"Hm? Oh. My ex put them up there...they're just display ones, thats why people ask for them and I get some from out back." She explained and his light mood lowered.

"When was this ex last around?" He questioned, desperately trying to sound casual however it was anything but.

"Oh he doesn't come around here anymore." She told him simply but there was an underlying tone to her words.

"Did you end on good terms?" Klaus asked, curiosity obvious but also his concern.

"Uh...sure...you know, all breakups are messy." She mumbled, her attention on a little feather that dangled from a dream catcher she was fiddling with.

Klaus nodded silently, understanding that the topic needed to be dropped for the time being. He cleared his throat and picked the decoration from her hand.

"I like this one." He decided, whether it was because it was pretty or because she had touched it was unclear.

"You sure?" She checked, that smile on her face always contagious and it made him nod.

"Definitely."

"I'll bag it up for you" She told him, taking the dream catcher back and going back behind to the till. Klaus leaned against it, gazing at her as she picked a bag out for him. Each paper back was hand painted by her to be unique, there must have been hundreds ready and he couldn't help but wonder how much time she spent each week preparing them all. His eyes watched her hands wrap the item in a couple layers of tissue paper before gently placing it in the bag and placing it up in front of him. "Cash or card?" she asked, eyes back on his.

"Cash" He answered automatically, pulling out a fifty and she shook her head.

"Nik, no. No more big tips." She told him, borderline whined and he grinned.

"Oh love, you deserve the tips. Think of it as me paying for the bag." He offered a solution and she huffed.

"The dream catcher is $5. The paper bag is not worth $45." She argued and he shook his head.

"The bags are as beautiful as the item. And the dream catcher is worth more than $5" He countered and she sighed softly to herself as she reluctantly took the money from his fingers. "So...about that date" He brought up and she shot him a playful glare.

"I'm...very busy." She muttered and he hummed, clearly unconvinced.

"Perhaps you could schedule me in for next week then? Morning, afternoon, evening, middle of the night, it doesn't matter." He listed, becoming all the more eager, bordering on desperate.

"I'm just not ready for a relationship at the moment Nik and I don't think I could go on one date with you without wanting another." She sighed and he softened.

"Alright" He whispered with a nod. "I understand that..." He paused for a moment as he took the bag. "I can wait." He shrugged and her brows furrowed slightly.

"Wait?" She questioned and he nodded.

"I'm a patient man, I can wait for you to be ready." He told her and he meant it.

Y/N was human. She didn't know who or what he was. He wasn't Klaus Mikaelson the crazed hybrid, disgrace to the wolves and tyrant to the vampires, father to the tribrid and son to the original witch. He was just Nik, an artist. So simple yet it allowed him to be so much more. A man instead of a monster.

It was nice having Y/N's attention, she didn't have any twisted intentions. No ulterior motives, she wasn't evil or calculated, she was just kind and genuine.

"I'll still be coming here every week for paints and what not, then when you're ready I'll take you somewhere fancy." He winked and she laughed softly.

"I'll see you in a few days." She told him as he stepped back toward the door.

"I'll see you soon sweetheart."

And obviously he did. He came back all the time. Often giving her little paintings he had made with things from her shop. They could be seen hanging up in the back. Y/N lived in the apartment above her shop and almost never left the building, she had no need to unless she needed to go shopping. She went out for her weekly visit to town on Monday as it was the only day her art job closed. Klaus would almost always be roaming around the supermarket, waiting for her to show up so he could help pick out her dinners for the week and carry her bags home for her whilst she scolded him for trying to pay for her groceries.

Back home his family never knew where Klaus was going so often. All he said on a Monday morning was that he'd be back later to Hope and then would be gone for hours.

Never would any of them have thought he would be pushing a trolley round each aisle or juggling cartons round a shop.

Once he helped her get everything inside he would carry the bags up the steep steps leading from the back of her store but he never went into her apartment. She hadn't ever invited him in. He would just pass her bags over the threshold whilst she spoke to him from her kitchen as she put things away. When she came back out he would help her organise out back and sometimes he got to decorate the paper bags with her, swirling beautiful patterns and scenes across the material.

He'd only leave when it got dark and she became hungry, not without offering to take her out of course. Inevitably Klaus would go home in a strangely good mood, taking Hope to bed and reading her a story before going to his own room with only one thing or person on his mind.

Hayley, Rebekah and Freya would all hold the same look, knowing that Klaus was in over his head. Elijah would shake his head every time at their childish giggles and tell them to leave Niklaus alone, not that Klaus seemed the slightest bit aware. He was sure that he was very discreet about his visits.

But they all would get nosey each time he came down the stairs, skip in his usually dull step, a smile on his usually grumpy face. The girls would start to whisper and even Marcel would crack a joke every now and then. Klaus however, remained oblivious.

He hung around Y/N like a love-stuck puppy, bringing flowers and sketches for her to enjoy. But one day when he walked in, the little bell didn't ring.

A frown settled upon his face as he noticed the item on the ground. "Y/N?" He called, picking up the bell and walking further in. He heard a crash from out back and immediately pushed past the gate. Y/N was yelling incoherently, crying and backing away from a very rageful man.

A switch flicked in Klaus's mind.

Y/N sat in the corner of the room, face in her knees and hands over her ears whilst Klaus mercilessly beat the man until he couldn't blubber a word. The guy was dragged out into the alley round the back of the building, propped up by the bin and told that should he try to move, Klaus would pick him apart limb by limb.

Klaus went back to Y/N, his hands bloody so he wiped them on his shirt before taking her face into his hold only to see light bruising starting to form across the top of her cheek. His arms moved to pick her up, carrying her upstairs.

"I need you to invite me in, love." He told her, ignoring her confusion and making her say the words that allowed him inside. Once she was sat down on her sofa, blanket draped over her shoulders and an ice pack in hr hand, she started to calm down.

Her gaze stayed on Klaus as he cleaned his surprisingly unbruised hands in the kitchen sink. His henley was stained, finger smears of blood that made her feel sick.

"Who was that man?" Klaus demanded, voice much colder than she had ever heard it. It frightened her.

"He's my ex-" She told her, voice wobbly as she sniffed.

"I thought he didn't come round here?" He snapped and she flinched.

"He's not meant to...I have a restraining order" She whimpered and Klaus swallowed, trying to push his anger down. It wasn't directed at her, it was at the man bleeding out downstairs.

He wasn't thinking straight, but he knew that he needed to stop yelling. If Y/N had been in a presumably abusive relationship before then witnessing Klaus almost killing a man would not bode well for him. Being too loud, too aggressive in his movements would scare her more.

His hands rubbed down his face, trying to conjure ideas on how to fix everything. Klaus considered compelling her but he was certain that it would come back to bite him in the ass. He didn't want to be a vampire to her, a hybrid. He couldn't heal her, it would complicate things further.

What would a human do? He wondered, glancing over at her tear-stained face as she looked up at him silently begging for help.

"Should I...call the police?" He sort of offered, feeling strangely nervous. He thought maybe it was the right thing to do. He would compel his way out of any charges of course but at least to Y/N he would be a good person doing the right thing.

"No..." Y/N whispered and he was a little surprised when she shook her head. "You'll be in trouble."

"I won't...it'll be ruled as defence of innocent life, I didn't attack him, he attacked you and I stopped him. He's in the wrong." Klaus argued, voice much gentler now.

"You don't know him...he has ties and connections, the police will ruin you, you'll be taken away. He's not gonna come back...you scared him but if you take him to court he'll win. I only got the restraining order because I gave everything for it." She explained. Klaus hated how vulnerable she was because of that man.

"Okay" He murmured, nodding. "We should get you to a doctor though, you're still hurt."

"It's just bruising, nothings broken, I'd know." She uttered, her eyes glancing down momentarily in shame.

Klaus knew that he would have her ex strung up by his own intestines. Tearing him apart from the inside out and watching the fear and horror leave his face when death took his filthy soul.

Cautiously, he sat down beside her and helped her over to him to hold her in a comforting hug. Her tears began quiet before they developed into broken sobs that she must’ve been holding in for so long. Klaus understood now why she wasn't ready for him but he made her a promise that he would wait and he would continue to uphold that by being there for her so that she may heal.

Later that day once Y/N had cried herself to sleep, Klaus went out back to move her ex-boyfriend. He put him down in the dungeons of the abattoir before returning to the shop and cleaning everything up. Putting every last piece of paper back on their shelf, he picked up the torn bags that Y/N had made and put them in the bin before spending his night making a hundred more to replace them.

The next day Y/N didn't come downstairs, he could hear her lead in bed, sniffling away to herself. He didn't want to make her come down so he ran the shop for her, serving customers and packaging things the way he had seen her do and restocking shelves at the end of the day so that everything was perfect like she had it. He locked the front up for her and went upstairs, going through her cupboards to cook her something for dinner.

Her tired little self had shuffled into the room once the inviting smell travelled through her door and enticed her presence.

Klaus brought her the plate of food to the little kitchen island and helped her onto the chair. "It wasn't too busy today but it wasn't too quiet either." He told her whilst getting her some water.

"You worked for me?" She whispered and he nodded.

"Course I did, I'm not the only artist who relies on your shop." He told her, a playful element to his words to make her smile.

"Thank you" She whispered earnestly. "For today and yesterday."

"We don't need to remember yesterday." He murmured, shaking his head.

"You didn't do anything wrong... you saved me."

"Right place, right time." He argued and she scoffed softly but he wouldn't let her contradict him.

Eventually they just agreed to disagree and they tidied everything up before Klaus went home.

He got in and went straight to Hope's room, apologising for being gone so long and promising to take her out for the whole day tomorrow.

They went for ice cream, to the park, for afternoon tea and to a soft-play. All women loved seeing a dedicated father, especially an attractive one. However no matter how many mothers hit on him or how many by passers would flirt, Klaus wouldn't bat an eye. Y/N was at the centre of his mind all of the time when it came to women. He barely noticed the amount of eyes on him, the attention he usually craved.

Now the only eyes he needed on him were hers.

Weeks passed by of him continuing his routine of dropping by. Her ex-boyfriend was long gone and very mutilated. He fell harder and harder for her, he could've stared at her for lifetimes. Sometimes he would linger around the shop until she gave in and asked if he wanted to use her art studio upstairs, it was smaller than his at home but felt much more intimate. It was as though he could see her every feeling sprawled out across the walls, the floor, everything everywhere. He ended up with his own rack on canvases in her studio which he would add to as often as she let him.

He waited a fair amount of time before he got to take her out. She met him outside of her shop, dressed as gorgeous as ever when he pulled up beside her in his car. He got out to open the passenger door for her, making sure she knew how much she brightened his evening.

Y/N was a little quiet on the drive there, her walls were up when it came to dating and he knew that and made sure not to push his limits.

Dinner was as sweet as expected, he behaved as the perfect gentleman to charm her and treat her correctly. There was never a moment of doubt or a second she felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Everything seemed to flow perfectly.

At the end he brought her home and made sure she got in okay. There were no kisses but he had expected that and didn't mind. Klaus was too overjoyed that he had finally gotten to take her out to be stressed over a kiss.

Oh but once he got that first kiss, he never wanted a day without one.

Klaus wasn't a touchy person usually. However whenever given the opportunity to have hand on his girl? Whether it be the small of her back, her hip, her waist, her hand, her knee? It didn't matter where, so long as she was happy and comfortable.

Once the relationship started rolling, it seemed to have a smooth journey. Klaus had practically moved into her apartment.

He was always curled up around her on the sofa, tickling her sides and nuzzling her hair while she tried to finish a drawing off. Often they would both be in her little studio, getting paint everywhere as they tried to create a joint painting. Klaus would always be there for at least one out of the three meals.

After a couple months of dates and kisses, he told her something really important; that he was a father.

Y/N had been shocked and a little upset that he hadn't told her sooner but eventually she understood why he didn't want to broadcast it.

"It's nothing to do with you, my love. I wouldn't have told any woman until I..." He paused, he wasn't sure this was the right time to say he loved her. "Until I really care about them, If I had told you then I would have introduced you and I couldn't do that unless I was sure...everything's much more complicated when a child's involved." Klaus explained.

"I get it Nik, I do. I just- I need some time to digest it, okay?" She sighed and he felt his heart sink as he nodded, kissed her head and headed home.

He loved Y/N and it would break his heart but if she couldn't be apart of Hope's life ever then she couldn't be apart of his, not truly.

A few days went by, he gave her some space and didn't come by the shop, before he received a message from her asking if he would come over. Klaus knew he would never let her go after that. He let her meet Hope only a week later, watched as she pushed his daughter on the swings and went down the slide with her on her lap. Hope was still young, only just getting ready to start school so she latched onto Y/N easily.

Everything moulded together so beautifully. To him, they were the little family he had secretly craved. A family where hatred was non-existent. Love was truly boundless and honest.

Arguments were rare and were over surprisingly fast. Klaus was used to endless grudges and growing hatreds against everyone but not her and Hope. There wasn't a bad thing to say about either of them.

But it was getting difficult for a few reasons.

The main one being that he was keeping a lot of secrets. She didn't even know his name. To her he was Nik Michaels. Not Niklaus Mikaelson. He was human, an artist who was doing really well and had lots of foreign buyers. She knew he had a big family, he had mentioned some names and stories here and there but it was strongly implied that they didn't speak anymore. Y/N wouldn't have ever guessed that he was living with them. She didn't know where he lived, just assumed he hadn't ever taken her before because she'd never asked and because of Hope.

Another growing issue for Klaus was his need for further intimacy. He had so much understanding for how she felt and how she had been treated in the past, he wouldn't voice his desires but they were slowly driving him crazy.

The amount of masterbation he had engaged in since he met her was making his balls hurt. As a man who had never really had such tight loyalty to a woman or had to wait so long for any sort of sexual contact, the past months drove his body crazy. Especially with how perfect she was.

Sometimes when they'd snuggle up he'd feel himself get all hard again, he'd ignore it for as long as possible before it became painful. It was unclear as to whether Y/N was unaware or choosing to ignore what was happening when he would disappear to another room to try to ease the tension.

There had been a lot of times that he had smelt her lovely arousal, often when making out or lead in bed but she never addressed it either so he knew she wasn't ready.

Klaus knew she wasn't ready to have sex but he wondered if she was ready for anything else.

So when she was laid against him on the sofa beneath a blanket with a romantic film playing in front of her, he let his hands slip downwards. He mirrored the actions of the man on the screen, letting his fingers disappear under her waist band and graze over her panties. Y/N's hand held onto his shirt at his shoulder, she was tense but nodded silently. Klaus's fingers pet her clit through the cotton barrier, varying his pressure and direction. A series of little mewls and gasps left her soft lips whilst her head went down, her face pressing into his shoulder as her hips rolled against his hand and wrist. "You feel so lovely." He whispered as he pulled her underwear aside and coated his fingers in her wetness.

Y/N held onto him so tightly, her breathing messy and unpredictable as she whimpered. "Please Nik, please keep going."

Klaus groaned at the sound of her begging and eagerly obliged. He leant down to kiss her forehead softly to keep her comforted as he circled his fingers over her sweet little jewel. He was slightly hesitant to let his middle finger sink into her but after another minute of her delicate little moans he let her tight heat encase his skin.

The sound she produced was pornographic and her hips thrust forward with desperation. Klaus felt her nails break through his shirt and dig into his skin making hiss in a pained delight and pump a second finger within her velvet walls.

"Nik!" She cried beautifully and he leaned down to kiss below her ear before nipping her earlobe. Her moans fuelled his wrist to move faster, push deeper. The slippery swollen clit beneath the pad of his thumb felt as though it was buzzing as her face pushed right into his neck, a muffled call leaving her as she came undone.

Klaus eased his fingers out of her gently and gradually slowed the stroke of his thumb before pulling his hand out from under the covers and sucking her taste from them. His eyes rolled back and his tongue licked over his bottom lip to catch the drip.

He looked down to look at Y/N as her chest rose and fell dramatically with each breath and her hair stuck to the back of her neck making him push the blanket down a bit to help her cool.

Klaus kissed her cheek before turning her head with his hand to feel those lips he loved so dearly against his own. He loved how she panted into their kiss, stealing all the air from his lungs and letting him be blessed with another soft little moan he had dreamt of for months.

He pulled away slowly and kissed her lips a few more times, looking down at her eyes through his own and enjoying her disheveled state.

"I love you." Klaus whispered, his eyes darting between hers to gage her reaction.

"I love you too." She replied without missing a beat making him release a breath and kissing her again for a little longer to really saver that feeling.

From that day Klaus almost lived in her little apartment. He restocked shelves in the evening, helped her cook, helped clean and then snuggled until bed. Hope had been coming round a few days in the week, not sleeping over because he didn't want to raise alarm bells with his family and also because there wasn't room but she came over to play after the store closed and on Mondays when it was closed they would often drive out of town to go to softplays and parks.

A couple times Hope had accidentally called Y/N 'Mommy'. Every time Hope would either feel really bad and cry or wouldn't notice at all, no in between. Klaus would calm her down and tell her that Y/N didn't mind and that they knew she didn't mean it to upset her real mommy. Y/N would just soften even more. Being a parent was something she did want one day and knowing that to Hope she was good enough to be called her mommy gave her such joy and love for the sweet child.

Klaus and Y/N never mentioned having children. It was a little difficult with them living separately and her working nearly everyday so it wasn't brought up. They didn't think nor worry about that.

Well...not until she wound up pregnant.

Klaus had just unlocked the door to come inside, bouquet of flowers in his hand and smile on his face before he heard her soft sniffles from the bathroom. His face dropped and he quickly shoved the door open.

His brows furrowed before his eyes widened as he looked around. At least five pregnancy tests were littered on the floor around her as she curled into herself and cried.

Slowly he picked one up and read that magic little word. Klaus swallowed thickly and knelt down to wrap his arms around Y/N's frame.

"It's alright, love." He whispered to her. His hands rubbed her back and sides gently whilst he focused his hearing on her body, listening for that faint little beat of their baby's heart.

Her head shook with a sniff as she leaned against him. "I can't afford a baby...it's too soon. I'm not- I was gonna wait at least a couple years, we haven't been together long enough-"

Klaus tried to shush her gently but her breathing became more and more rapid and her words started to blur together. Klaus could feel the worry building except he was worrying for two now.

"Y/N" He murmured, cupping her teary face in his hands. "We'll figure this out. I'm gonna be here, I can afford this okay? You can't worry about that. Just... just worry about your health and our baby." He trailed as his hand slid down her front to her tummy.

Y/N looked up at him through glassy eyes before glancing at his hand. She was quiet for the longest time, staying on the floor as he cleaned up the tests, throwing all but one out.

He made sure she ate something for dinner before going to bed with her, snuggling close and whispering about how beautiful their little boy or girl would be.

Y/N went back to work the next day, despite Klaus trying to persuade her that he could run the shop whilst she had a few days to herself.

So whilst she ran the art store, he started looking at real-estate nearby. He knew that they would need a house with at least three bedrooms if not four; one for them, one for the baby and one for Hope. If he could get a four bed it could be a playroom and then one day another bedroom. Klaus worried a bit over how his family would be, if they'd let him take Hope. Of course Hayley would have her half the time but he knew Hayley and he knew she wouldn't want split custody. But he couldn't leave Y/N and their child so he'd have to get it to work.

In the early months of Y/N's pregnancy everything was normal. Klaus kept up his visits, took her to doctors appointments and hid little sonograms in his room at home.

Though they didn't stay there long before he found a house.

It was perfect.

Five bedrooms, two of which were en suites with showers. A separate bathroom upstairs with both bath and shower and then a smaller one downstairs. The kitchen was spacious and had a lot of potential which Klaus immediately took advantage of and had people in and out all of the time to fit the marble countertops. Then he had an island fitted for the mental image of his cute little family having breakfast still dressed in their pyjamas and slippers. He still had a dining table for their evening meals and for when Hope got older and wanted to invite friends over or anything. He also furnished the living-room to be comfy and inviting with a beautiful fireplace and everything.

Klaus had lived in many houses, mansions, apartments but they were never a home. They were soulless, empty buildings that he just floated around so this time he wanted to make it homey and special. Warm, comfortable and full of life.

Once Y/N was six, almost seven months pregnant, Klaus told he had a surprise for her that required her to be blindfolded. She had yawned and told him that she was too tired which made him chuckle before leading her into the car.

When he took the cloth away from her eyes she was faced with such a stereotypical sight; that big white picket fenced house with a lovely lawn covered in flowers and berry plants.

Klaus wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting both hands on her now prominent baby-bump whilst placing a kiss to her temple.

"I know you were worried about raising our little one in your flat...The house is all ready for us, I'll keep your apartment above the shop so that you still have it and I’ll run the art store whilst you’re on maternity- We can have your things moved here- though I did buy some new-" He kept rambling but Y/N spun round and pushed her lips to his to shut him up.

She pulled away after a moment and rest her head in the crook of her neck, Klaus nuzzled into her hair before he realised she was sniffling back tears.

"What's wrong, my love?" He whispered and she wiped her eyes.

"Nothing...it's just perfect...you're perfect." She whimpered and he smiled, holding her tight. He chuckled softly, her pregnancy hormones had made her so teary over the smallest things but he didn't mind.

"You want to go see inside?" He asked her and she nodded vigorously, holding onto his hand as he lead her to the doorway.

He showed her the downstairs before taking her to their bedroom. On the bedside table was a framed sonogram and a framed positive pregnancy test. Y/N was a sniffling mess in seconds and Klaus was kissing all over her face to try calm those cries away. She was a mess when he brought her to the nursery, it wasn't decorated yet, only a simple crib in the room.

"I couldn't design this room without you." He whispered, stroking her bump as he did so.

That night Y/N and Klaus cooked for the first time in their new house, snuggled by their never before used fireplace and then went up to their new bed.

Klaus helped her our of her maternity clothes, shushing her when she told him she was gross like this. "You're gorgeous like this, I love that you're pregnant with our baby." He told her as he unclipped her bra making her whimper.

"I just want it out of me now." She sniffed, trying to cover her body with her arms and hands but he wouldn't let her.

"I love your body, it's always beautiful." He promised while pushing her to lay down on her back. Klaus wiped away the little tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes and kissed her sweet lips. His hands slid up to gently cup her swollen breasts, caressing them softly and kissing her jaw.

"We can't have sex like this...I look like-"

"You look like an angel." He cut her off, refusing to hear her talk bad about herself. He trailed his lips down her neck to her chest before sucking little red marks into her breasts. Klaus listened to her whimper, glancing up to check she wasn't hurting from how sore she was becoming lately. He smiled when he saw the look of pleasure in her eyes and slipped his hand down between her thighs where it belonged.

He stroked her pussy gently, feeling how wet she was without him having to do anything. Klaus knew Y/N needed him, his body, much more then she would ask for because she had become so self-conscious since getting a little bigger. Klaus found it silly that she could think being full of his child would make her less attractive, if anything it made her ten times sexier. Of course he knew that sometimes she was too tired but there were many occasions when she needed him and he knew it but wouldn't want him to touch her.

Tonight he felt the strong need to satisfy his love. So he circled her clit rhythmically whilst getting his pants off as swiftly as possible.

Y/N had no time to protest before his cock was burying inside her. She whimpered loudly and rolled her head to the side. "Nik..." She moaned and he groaned, leaning down to kiss her cheek round to her lips.

Y/N was desperate for the feel of his mouth on hers, the thrust of his cock between her walls and the grip of his hands on her hips but she couldn't help but worry about how she looked and she only knew she was going to get bigger in the remaining three months. Her eyes glanced down at her belly and the was he tried his best not to touch it as his hips rocked up against hers. Their lips parted and he cupped the side of her face.

"I'm just making sure I don't hurt the baby is all." He whispered, noticing her sad stare. "Don't think I don't want to touch you all over." He purred into her ear before sucking her earlobe between his teeth. "Once our little one is born and you're all rested I'll make sure you remember how good it feels when I get rough, hm?" He murmured whilst kissing the side of her face.

Y/N nodded stiffly and pushed her face into the crook of his neck, just focusing on the heat of his skin on hers and the electricity running in their veins.

Klaus kept his body moving, bucking his hips just right to make her moan into his skin. His hand kept playing with her swollen clit, teasing her closer and closer.

He grew more needy for her cunt to clamp down as he felt himself leak a few drops inside her. Klaus was grateful that she couldn't see his face when his eyes went gold and his fangs elongated, threatening her flavoursome flesh. Y/N could feel his breathing against her shoulder as his fingers dug into her sides.

"That's it, love-" He gasped, thrusting faster before slowing and giving a few slow, calculated plunges of his cock before feeling her sweet pussy squeeze tighten and gush around him. Klaus released a fast breath, urging his hybrid features to go away when he felt her shift beneath him, whispering if he was okay. He forced the fangs back in, the gold away and the veins to fade beneath his eyes as he felt her insecurities start to bubble.

Klaus pushed up on his arms, leaning down to kiss her deeply. His hands caressed up and down her body, making sure not to leave an inch of her untouched before he pulled himself out of her and slid his hands under her.

"Oh god- Nik don’t even try-" She protested but he picked her up with ease, much to her surprise, and carried her to their en suite bathroom.

Y/N went quiet at how easily he seemed to hold her as he ran a bath. Then lowered her into the warm water and continued to clean the sweat from her body and lean down to leave a display of kisses on her already marked up skin.

She couldn't help but just gaze at him as he let her relax amongst the bubbles and washed himself in the glass shower. The hybrid smirked to himself as he felt his love's eyes on him as the water ran down the length of his body. He cast a few looks her way, admiring her shy smile as she sunk into the water though that beautiful bump of hers still peaked up at him.

Once they were both out they laid down in the now clean bed. (Klaus had managed to secretly use his vampire speed to change all the bedding). They curled up together and drifted to a peaceful sleep.

The weeks seemed to go so fast, Klaus kept forgetting to go home to the point where his siblings actually thought something bad had happened.

Which was why when Klaus had gone grocery shopping for the two of them, Y/N was home alone to answer the door to three of his siblings.

Rebekah, Elijah and Freya all held threatening stances as they glared down the door, expecting a witch or a vampire. None of them were expecting nine-month-pregnant, overly emotional and tired young woman to answer the door.

She looked back at them a little confused and frightened when she realised they did not look friendly and she did not recognise them form the little neighbourhood she and Klaus had been getting to know. She shifted on her feet and placed a protective hand on her pregnant tummy.

"Can I help you?" She asked, voice soft and clearly nervous making the three siblings share a few looks. Elijah was about to apologise and claim they had the wrong house but Rebekah got in first.

"Do you know Klaus?" She questioned, tone coming out too harsh making Elijah wince.

"Uhm no...I'm sorry, I don't think anyone called Klaus lives close. Uh... two streets over theres a Clyde?" She tried to be helpful and it was obvious to all three of them that this girl wasn't going to have the answers they were looking for.

"We're very sorry for the intrusion miss." Elijah apologised, silently urging his sisters to leave this woman alone. "I think we got the wrong street, I hope you can forgive us." He told her earnestly and she nodded.

"It's okay...theres a lot of roads its easy to go down the wrong one- oh!" She cut herself off with a cry and they all went tense. Elijah stepped forward offering his arm for her to grab and squeeze painfully and she yelled out in pain.

"Rebekah! Start the car!" He called, wrapping his arm round the woman and helping her out the house. "Freya? Where's the closest hospital?" He questioned whilst squeezing her hand as her breathing started to level out.

"It's okay" Y/N whimpered, not wanting to give birth without Nik.

"Of course it's okay darling. Has your water broke yet?" Elijah asked, guiding her to the car.

"Yeah- It went just before you knocked... I was about to call- Oh god Nik- my phone I can't-" Her breathing picked up again but this time in a panic before another contraction came and she cried out, clutching his hand for dear life.

"It's alright, it's alright. The hospital will have his number, is he your next of kin?" He asked and she nodded, relaxing at the realisation and letting him ease her into the car.

Rebekah drove like a mad women, trying to keep conversation flowing; name, age, family, future plans. Freya was talking through breathing exercises and Elijah kept himself as a human stress ball.

Once they pulled up at the hospital they were all rushing in, yelling that they needed nurses, doctors anything to help this woman.

Surprisingly they all remained in the waiting room for a couple hours after feeling a strange bond with the mother-to-be after finding and helping her.

None of them really linked the fact that her boyfriend’s name being Nik could have been Niklaus, especially with how confused she was when they said Klaus.

So nobody was ready for Klaus to come rushing through the hospital, barging past anything and shoving the door open.

A silence fell over the three for the first time in years as they just stared at the closed door. Nobody moved for ages, even as Klaus dashed in and out of the room for more ice-chips, they just stayed put.

Occasionally one of them would go to the bathroom or to get a sandwich from a vending machine but they didn't even consider leaving the hospital until they heard the cries of a beautiful newborn baby.

Rebekah physically relaxed, collapsing in her seat when she was sure that the baby was okay. Hayley received a vague text that they'd be home sometime in the next couple days before they got back to patiently waiting for Y/N To be well enough.

The next morning the door opened and all three of them got up to their feet at the sight of Klaus with his arms around Y/N and her arms around the sweetest little baby ever.

"Oh. Those are the lovely people I told you about." She told Klaus, looking straight at them making Klaus turn his head.

His face dropped when he saw them and her heart-rate spiked. He tried to shake his head, to get out of this but he was panicking.

Y/N didn't know about the supernaturals. She didn't know about all his siblings. She didn't know he was Klaus. She didn't know anywhere near enough to be dealing with any of it right after giving birth.

"That's...that's very...kind of them." He choked out, trying to get anything out of him.

"We should thank them, they didn't need to stay." She whispered to him and he hesitantly nodded.

"I'll thank them, you get him into the car okay my love? He needs to get away from all these sick people." He told her, kissing her head and then his son's.

"No- Nik, come on lets just go say thank you." She argued, tiredly and made her way over making him hurry after her and keep his hand on her so they couldn't get too close.

He glared them down, daring them to say a word as Y/N thanked them so so much for getting her there safely and talking to her. She showed them the baby and Elijah worried that Klaus might actually snap when Rebekah asked to hold him.

"I think he's a little tired, probably best to get him home. Come on love, we all need rest." He urged and Freya nodded, putting a hand on Rebekah's shoulder.

"He's right, they need to get settled. Maybe one day we'll get to see the little man again." She agreed but the underlying question was there as to whether Klaus was ever planning to come clean about whatever was going on.

He let out a sigh and slipped his hand round to hold his son's tiny hand.

"Perhaps. Now we really need to leave." He was getting frustrated and Y/N was confused.

He lead her away and she looked up at him.

"Nik...is something wrong? Do you know them?" She asked as they got out the door and a frown swirled across his features.

"It's...I'm gonna explain it later okay? I just need you both inside and safe and comfy, I just..." He swallowed down his worry and strapped their little boy into the carseat. "I love you." He told her, standing up straight and cupping her face.

"I love you too...I don't understand what that-"

"It doesn't, I just need you to know how much I adore you." He whispered and she smiled.

"I love you too." She kissed his lips softly. "Nothing's going to change that." She promised and Freya, Elijah and Rebekah listened from round the corner with soft smiles on their faces.

Everything was going to be different when they got home. Klaus was worried. His son had just been born, healthy and perfect. He had planned to bring them home, feed her a lovely dinner and possibly propose to her.

He had chosen the most gorgeous ring. Klaus wanted to be with her forever, especially now that they had a new little angel that they shared. He hadn't ever had such a normal, domesticated relationship.

The house, the kids.

If they got a pet his life would be every movie ever.

But now he had to ruin it all. He had to reveal the worst parts about himself.

How would his darling Y/N react when she found out he was a serial-killing monster who's haunted millions of people for hundreds of years. Or that he daggered his own siblings, tortured innocents and sacrificed teenagers.

Could she forgive that? Should she love him? Would she even want someone like that near such a delicate baby boy?

Klaus stared at himself in the mirror, tucking the ring box back into his hiding place and taking a breath as he tried to ready himself.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Bastard readers dynamic in the family...

(Implied yandere targarians, heavily implied fem!reader)

With Daemon, it's full of one-sided hostility and fire. Ever since he took you from your little home, with your little bed of warm scrapped fur and the comforting presence of your mother, he's been the monster. The monster that snatched you away. His abduction seemed very... Him, to begin with. Spontaneous, mad, rebellious. But something in him drove him to take you. His blood, his dragonfire. Aegon may allow his little silver haired bastards to roam and survive on scraps, but Daemon is too proud of his blood to do so. You are his. His daughter. Your rebellion and fight against him does deal him pain, but it also drives him further. You may deny it as much as you like, but you are his little mirror. His reflection of spitting fire and anger. From a teary eyed toddler stomping their foot, to a mirthful teenager with poison in their eyes- it matters to him. His little dragon.

And since dragons share their emotions with their riders, these controlling and obsessive feelings do not limit to only Daemon. Ceraxes is an extension of your father, another pair of eyes and a tongue of fire that always hovers and opresses you. As a little child, Daemon often took you to ride dragon back upon the blood wyrm- a form of bonding as he liked to put it. Ceraxes would chirp and fixate on you, his mirthful grin wide like a shark as he stares at you. He purrs and growls in your presence, seeing you as a precious extension of his rider. His little human. He's very protective of you, but also very controlling. You step a foot out of line and he's hovering over you like a frightening serpent. There's no fire in his throat, but his frightening teeth glint in warning.

Rhaenyra adores you. You'll be the daughter she never had, and although at first she was furious to see her husband return with a screaming kicking bastard child in his arms, it didn't take her long to fall in love with you.

Although she adores her sweet boys, a small discreet part of her yearned for a precious little daughter of her own. A little girl to dress and adore and spoil, to give her everything. Rhaenary is a warm and loving person towards you, often placating your little sobs and warbled pouts with taking you in her arms and hushing you with soft loving words. Everything is alright, you're ok. If she's not soothing you with motherly words, then she's showering you in gifts of dragon glass figures and dresses. She herself adores her jewels and gowns, so she sees it only fitting that you too get the same luxurious treatment.

Syrax is doting and sweet to you, just like her rider. You're the only other person besides Rhaenary who may touch her. The golden dragon would preen and coo at you whenever you are within her line of sight, bowing her head low for affection. She purrs and coos, huffing hot dragon breath into your face to make you smile- even just a little. She allows you to touch the rough scales on her face, her own smile almost matching the warmth of your stepmother.

Dragon Rides with rhaenary are always more tolerable- the days are always warm and tame, blue skies and her wings riding upon blossoming clouds of gold and lavender. Rhaenary holds you close to her, a buckled harness added to her saddle especially for you.

Viserys is old and soft, and although his presence has always remained as the silvery old willowed man who sits upon the frightening throne made of jagged blades and glinting metal, he has always been passive with you. As your uncle, and the king, hes always handled you with a soft yet dismissive hand. He may not always acknowledge you that often, but when he does, it's always pleasant and filled with ramblings of creative art mediums and whatnot. If you were to ever show interest in his built figures and constructions, he'd be delighted. He may be your first influence into creative outlets- either it be through painting,embroidery, calligraphy, or to his hopes, figure making. Despite your bastard heritage, he's rather accepting of you. His brother is wild and untamed, always off doing something peculiar and explosive- you are the least destructive thing he's created by far. You are also a source of joy for his daughter, Rhaenary, so he cannot be too harsh upon you living in DragonStone.

Balarion is long gone, his monstrously large skull glinting in golden candlelight within the cold stone walls. But viserys often ponder over your fascination with the war dragons remains, and you may get an earful of old stories that sang their songs long ago. Aegon the conqueror... The black dread with midnight flame... Bringing kingdoms to their knees or reduced to piles of ash. Your heritage is a painful one, dear, but it is powerful. You have the blood of Aegon the conqueror in your veins. You have the blood of the dragon. Be proud of it, for you have no choice.

Jacaerys and Lucerys, despite being shocked and confused by your arrival- like any wide eyed little children, grew to love you. They watched with their dark eyes as Prince Daemon returned with a shrieking and sobbing little girl, clutching the skirts of their mother and whispering little words or confusion and curiosity. Who's that? Where's her mummy?

Even when they are made aware of your bastard heritage, they still love you. Jace will often murmur words of encouragement to you when he sees you look upset or down about something, and Luce will happily take you by the hand and lead you off to read and teach you high valarian. You're off-putting at first, still upset with your new living situation. Because they're not your brother's, you don't know them! Your brothers are back at your house, probably still wailing for your return. As a child you were probably filled with stubbornness, often attempting to stray from their sights, hoping to sever any form of connection before it can begin- both from rebellion, but also from fear of betraying your own little siblings. But these boys are stubborn too, and want to do things with you like any brother would. They want you to read to them. To watch them train, to practice languages and swordsmanship, to watch them ride their dragons and impress you with dragonfire and daring swoops. To them, you're their sister. Just please- give them a chance?

I'll probably get more Cannibal stuff out, but I thought the dynamic of bastard reader within the family would be interesting. I don't often see people expanding on the relationships one would have with their forced families dragons either, considering the dragons are very emotionally connected with their riders, I thought it'd be interesting to expand on this idea!

Also I may do more with team green, but I'm still figuring out what kind of relationships the reader would have with them. I'm definitely making bastard reader close friends with Helaena, she's honestly the chillest person in that whole family 😅

[anyaeras]

❥・Domme!Mommy!Wanda head cannons

[sometimes I just think about her]

Masterlist

♡ Soft head cannons-

❥・mommy Wanda's love language was words of affirmation, yet she also enjoyed physical touch, such as holding you, soft back rubs and running her hand through your hair. You being a cuddler, she finds it adorable

❥・She wasn't a big cook, but she loved to bake, often she was ask for you help making some sweet treats.

❥・ When she was reading on the sofa she would always welcome you to lay you head on her lap, she would read and randomly run her fingers through your hair.

❥・Late nights she loved to watch sitcoms, overtime she would get you to also fall in love with the cute television programs

❥・Wanda was protective, she made sure you were taken care of always. She got very good at reading your emotions and made sure to try and keep them in check.

❥・ Even though she was protective, she was also very possessive, anytime you guys went to one of Tony's parties her jealousy would spike.

❥・ She loved to pick out your clothes, better if she could put you in her own sweaters. She knew you liked the smell of them anyway.

❥・She uses flower bomb perfume by viktor and rolf

❥・ Wanda Loves baths, she would add lavender salts when she would take baths, sometimes she would ask you to join her.

❥・she found when you had an attitude funny, knowing she could easily change your mood.

♡ NSFW-

❥・Wanda had a huge mommy kink obviously, she loved when you called her mommy in and out of bed, it made her feel things in the best way.

❥・ Praising, she was soft and would praise you when you were doing a good job. Eating her out? "So good for me baby" "keep going детка, so pretty you are"

❥・ Mommy Wanda used pet names A LOT, she could never run out as she always added a pet name when speaking to you.

❥・ She had a dark side, sometimes she just needed to rut her strap into you, taking out her stress as you moaned and squirm under her.

❥・ She loved to get you begging and whining for her touch. Wanda thought it was hot to see you beg for her to play with you.

❥・ She loved to dress you up in pretty lacy bras and panties.

❥・She was possessive, and would sometimes leave marks just for you to look back at them.

❥・ Praising you while fucking you in front of a mirror so you can see yourself being mommy's slut

❥・ Oral fixation, she would put her fingers in your mouth just for fun, forcing you to suck.

❥・when you are really being a brat, she would get mean with you back, making sure you knew mommy was in charge.

❥・ Sometimes when she was really in the mood she would ride a strap she put on you, or maybe even let you fuck her, guiding you showing you just how to fuck her the right way.

[connorsui]

♡||♡ Her

Simon x Wife! Reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, Comfort, Fluff, no angst we die in Simon's Arms (romantically)

Synopsis: In the stillness of their home, he finds solace in her arms and allows himself to fully relax for the first time in ages.

Note: Sappy Simon? …happy Simon? …Simon Loves his Wife? …OC Simon? ..who knows this man just misses his wife

w.c: 987

The front door creaked open, a sound that was music to Simon Riley’s ears after months of harsh, discordant noises from the battlefield. He stepped inside, the weight of his deployment slipping away with every step. The warmth of the house enveloped him, mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of his wife’s cooking. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting a soft, ethereal light across the room. It painted the space in a warm glow that seemed to hold a promise of peace and comfort.

His eyes found her immediately. She stood in the kitchen, the heart of their home, where every corner held traces of her warmth and care. Her figure was framed by the window’s gentle light, creating a halo of softness around her. The apron she wore, tied snugly around her waist, accentuated her graceful silhouette. Her hair, a cascade of waves, tumbled over her shoulders, catching the light in a way that made it shimmer like silk.

Simon’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of her, her presence a stark contrast to the harsh realities he had faced. The sound of her humming, a sweet, tuneful melody that echoed through the kitchen, was like a balm to his weary soul. He felt a deep, overwhelming sense of love and relief as he approached her, the stress of months on deployment melting away with every step.

He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch a mixture of reverence and longing. She turned to face him, her eyes widening in surprise before they softened into a look of pure joy. Her face lit up with a smile that seemed to outshine the sun itself, and Simon felt his heart swell with a love that felt as fresh and powerful as it had on the day they first met.

“Simon, you’re home,” she said, her voice a soothing melody that wrapped around him like a warm blanket. The softness in her tone, the tenderness that flowed from her, was more comforting than any words he could muster.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” Simon replied, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out to caress her cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “You’re more beautiful than I remember, if that’s even possible.”

She blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink as she looked up at him with adoration. “Please…what's all this about?” she said, her voice a gentle caress against his ear.

Simon’s gaze lingered on her, taking in the delicate curve of her lips, the way they seemed to invite him into a world of warmth and love. He could see the flecks of gold in her eyes, sparkling with an affection that mirrored his own. It was as if, in that moment, she was the very embodiment of peace—a stark contrast to the chaos he had left behind.

Without another word, Simon pulled her into his arms, embracing a refuge from the world outside. Her warmth seeped into him, her heartbeat a steady, calming rhythm against his chest. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the soft scent of vanilla and lavender that clung to her skin. The smell was a reminder of countless serene moments they had shared, a soothing contrast to the acrid smells of smoke and sweat that had surrounded him for months.

“I’ve missed this,” Simon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

She sighed softly, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his back as she held him close. “I’ve missed you too, Simon”

Simon’s arms tightened around her, his need to be near her evident in every inch of their embrace. He slowly pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own filled with a mixture of awe and love.

A tender smile graced her lips as she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “You're soo much more loving than usual,” she said softly. “I'm starting to think you've gotten replaced”

Simon’s eyes roamed over her face, memorizing every detail with a sense of wonder. He gently cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks as he leaned in. His lips found hers in a kiss that was slow and reverent, as if he were savoring every moment of their reunion. The kiss was tender, filled with an aching longing that spoke of months apart and the deep connection they shared.

Her lips were soft and warm, the taste of her a sweet reminder of everything he had been missing. He kissed her deeply, letting his emotions flow through the touch, pouring all the love and devotion he felt into the embrace. It was a kiss of longing, of relief, and of a love that had only grown stronger with time.

When they finally pulled away, both breathless and flushed, Simon looked at her with an expression of contentment. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a deep, heartfelt sincerity. “You’re my home, my sanctuary. Just being near you makes everything right.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with tears of joy. “I may not know what's gotten into you …but ..I suppose I can indulge on this newfound you for now …so let me say this just once … you’re everything to me, Simon. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. The soft glow of the sunset bathed them in a warm light, the room filled with the scent of her cooking and the gentle hum of her happiness. In each other’s embrace, Simon and his wife found the peace they had both been yearning for, a tranquil moment where nothing else mattered but their love and the comfort of being together once more.

Gimmie Sappy Simon...I would take that man even if nobody wants him

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

requested by anon 18+

“Look how pretty you are.”

Remus’ voice was a soft coo, a gentle thing that made you ache, a clawing need crawling across your chest and the boy’s hand followed it, palm grabbing at one breast. He was behind you, braced on his knees, you leaning back into him, seated on his lap, his cock, shifting just enough for the tip of him to nudge up against a spot that had you keening.

The mirror on your dresser was directly in front of you both, the perfect height for you to see your naked body, the way you were stretched out against Remus, his bare chest behind yours, his arms wrapped around your front. It was difficult to keep yourself up, lips parted, face tilted to the ceiling as you let your head fall back into Remus’ shoulder. He was pink in the cheeks, hair mussed from the way you kept reaching back to grab it, pulling and tugging.

“So, so pretty like this,” Remus whispered, his breath hot in your ear. He grabbed meanly at your hip, the other hand cupping your tits, pulling at your nipple with nimble fingers, palms scarred and calloused. “So soft, sweetheart, so wet, huh?”

Remus shifted his hips, pulled you down into the cradle of them a little harder, deeper, groaning when you clenched around him. You whined, squirming but the boy gripped at you a little tighter, smile curling prettily on his lips, his chin hooked over your shoulder to watch. The reflection in the mirror was a show, the evening light coming through the crack in the curtains, lavender-blue and still warm from the dying sun and it bathed your skin, cast navy shadows in the dips of your curves.

“Nuhuh, c’mon, look,” Remus tsked, letting go of your waist to grip at your chin, a finger and thumb pinching until you let him coax your head back up. “Eyes open, there’s a girl, hm? You gotta watch, darling, don’t you wanna see how good you look?”

It was too much, the sight before you, Remus’ pretty face behind you, his hand freeing your face to smooth back the hair that clung to your damp forehead. He moaned when you rocked your hips back, cunt fluttering around him, thighs slick against his. He grinned, boyish and handsome and his pupils blown wide as he watched your body writhe for him.

“You’re doing so good,” Remus hummed. “If I touch that pretty pussy, you gonna keep your eyes open for me?”

You nodded, gasping at the thought, your clit throbbing for attention. Remus smiled again, barely canting his hips into yours and he lept eye contact with you in the mirror, making a show of trialling his hand down your body until he was palming over your cunt.

“She’s needy, huh?” Remus cooed again, “been neglectin’ her? M’sorry, sweetheart, lemme make her feel good.”

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ꜰɪx ʜɪᴍ (ɴᴏ, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ, ɪ ᴄᴀɴ)

ᴅᴀʀᴋ!ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

"ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴇ, ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴍᴀɴ, ɴᴏ, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ, ɪ ᴄᴀɴ."

Word count: 9,700. (sorry)

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Sister.

Warnings: Angst, smut, incest, mention of non-con, violence, blood.

The sunrise on the garden balcony was a spectacle of light and color. The sky bathed in shades of pink and lavender, reflecting its warm glow over the colorful petals of the flowers and the cool fountains surrounding them. They were in that corner of tranquility, enjoying one of those rare moments when time seemed to stand still.

Away from the exhausting bustle of the palace and the endless boring lessons that usually occupied them, they were seated on a marble bench. Lucerys gazed at the horizon, where the sun was slowly rising, while she looked at the small piece in her hands, a little sky-blue horse that belonged to him, her best friend, who always carried it. Her mind was at peace, enjoying a restorative calm, complemented by the sound of the leaves rustling and the gentle waves caressing the sand.

Suddenly, he broke the silence, rising above the murmur of the garden. He cleared his throat, a sign that announced the importance of his forthcoming words. His eyes sparkled with a light that was more than just the sun’s.

“Have you heard the news?” he inquired, his tone soft and gentle as he regarded her. Though his tone was casual, the faintest hint of a smile revealed his restrained excitement.

Intrigued, she turned her head toward the sound of his sweet voice, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Her eyes met his. “What is it about?” she asked, filled with genuine interest.

Lucerys leaned forward slightly, an air of mystery about him. There was a palpable warmth in his anticipation, akin to the whisper of a breeze through the clouds. “It appears that a proposal has been made,” he began, pausing dramatically for effect before adding, “between the two of us.” 

A wave of emotions washed over her, a mixture of surprise, relief, and an uncontainable glee. Her brows arched in astonishment as her mouth fell slightly open.

In an instant, her lips broke into a smile, accompanied by a small laugh. “I am pleased it is you” she said. “We will be together for all time.”

Seeing her reaction, he returned the smile with one that illuminated his entire face. His cheeks took on a rosy hue, and his eyes reflected a happiness that seemed to mirror her own.

The promise of a shared life, now formally announced, felt as natural as the descending sun. Their friendship had been a constant source of joy and stability, from their childhood games to their conversations filled with dreams and confidences, and in that moment, the bond was evident.

As the day melded into morning, they dreamt aloud of all they would do when the time came. They would live in Driftmark, sail the open sea every day they could, and the others would fly on Arrax's back, exploring every realm and enjoying adventures far, far from King’s Landing.

She moved hastily toward her brother. Each stride, each heavy step seemed to echo in her mind, a reverberation of the anguish she felt as she traversed the silent corridors of the palace. Her face, impassive and devoid of expression, could not reflect the emotional storm that tormented her.

Upon reaching the door, her hands trembled slightly as she turned the knob. The maester, who was in the midst of his work, offered a respectful bow before withdrawing, leaving them alone in the deep gloom, barely interrupted by the faint rays of light filtering through the window.

The room was enveloped in a dense atmosphere, and the air was thick with a penetrating smell of blood and medicinal ointments, a constant reminder of the suffering manifesting within.

The tense friction between the children of Rhaenyra and their own siblings had always been present, but what occurred that night surpassed any expectations of enmity, turning the journey to Driftmark into an explosion of chaos, destruction, and despair, marking a turning point for all. And now, Aemond lay mutilated, wounded inside and out beyond repair, his body marked by the traces of brutality.

The bond between them had never been one of great closeness; she respected and valued him, of course, but always felt they aimed at very different things. He had a powerful, dominant presence, determined to protect her from what she perceived as invisible enemies and to educate her on intricate politics from which she only longed to escape.

Despite all this, he was her brother, and the sight struck her with unrelenting force, tearing at her from within, and the blood tie was felt immediately, throwing her toward him with urgency. His face was bruised, with traces of dried blood scattered across his skin, and his left side was completely bandaged.

She approached the bed cautiously, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile balance of the situation. She sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. The coldness of his skin and the sharp pain reflected in his features made her feel as though the world was crumbling around her. Tears began to flow down her cheeks uncontrollably.

The silence of the room was broken by a fractured whisper. “Let me take care of you now” she said, almost like a plea, the weight of regret and sincerity in her promise resonating in her voice, clinging to the hope that she could offer some comfort. 

She felt lost, trapped between the piercing pain of seeing Aemond suffer and the cruel disbelief that Lucerys was the cause.

He nodded slightly, squeezing her hand and showing a small smile with the remaining strength he had.

Over the following moons, she stayed by his side, reading aloud fragments of books he used to enjoy, trying to distract him from the pain and make him feel he was not alone.

One time, while they were in his chambers, the weight of her questions prevented her from thinking about anything else. Her family had preferred to keep the details from her ears, but she needed the full, raw, and unadorned truth to face her own pain and sense of betrayal.

“May I ask you something?” she murmured with cautious hesitation. Aemond looked at her, his uncovered face showing his wound, which, although it had not diminished his beauty, bore testament to the deep suffering he had endured. He nodded, granting her permission to continue. “What precisely happened that night?”

His expression darkened with anguish as he began to recount the events in detail, sparing no harsh truth. He described how he had been ambushed, how ruthless insults and merciless blows had rained down on him just because, and how the violence he had suffered had left an indelible mark not only on his face but also on his spirit. His narration was laced with a sharp sense of injustice and humiliation.

Lucerys had brought a dagger and his siblings and cousins, under the assurance that Aemond would be isolated, and it seemed that the conflict had left a bitter sense of dissatisfaction.

Each word and revelation felt like direct strikes to her gut, leaving her paralyzed, her hands quivering as she struggled to grasp the gravity of what she had heard.

Her dearest and closest friend, the one with whom she had shared laughter and secrets, the one with whom she had dreamed of building a life, turned out to be the perpetrator of such indescribably atrocious violence that she could hardly believe it. The actions of that boy, in whom she had placed all her trust, felt like a treachery that cut to the very essence of her being, shattering her deepest convictions.

She recalled all those times Aemond had told her about the callous jokes he faced and the dangers of associating with cold, ambitious people, and how she had thought he was exaggerating. Now, she understood the truth with terrifying clarity: he had always sought to shield her from the darkness of their world, and his warnings had materialized in him.

“They will not be satisfied with this” he intoned gravely. “They will not rest until they have eradicated all who pose a threat to their rise — Aegon, Daeron… me.” Fear enveloped her strongly, realizing that unity was more crucial than ever, and recognizing that she had lost the one she loved most in the world.

“And to think we were to be married” she whispered later, more to herself than to Aemond. The acceptance that the future she had once envisioned was no longer hers shattered the heavy silence, leaving behind a sound of broken dreams.

He regarded her with an intensity that was both earnest and fierce, his gaze reflecting deep sincerity.

“I would never have allowed it” he declared firmly, charged with a fervor that made clear how much his love and desire to protect her meant. Tears welled in her eyes as she faced him. “He is a bastard, and every bastard is a monster by nature” he added with disdain. 

She had always abhorred such notions; she knew Lucerys for who he truly was and had never believed he fit such descriptions. Yet now, she found herself doubting.

She nodded, relieved to have avoided what seemed like it could have been a curse, and grateful to have Aemond by her side, who seemed to be her only refuge amidst the storm that her world had become.

As the years went by, her feelings began to transform in ways she had not anticipated. At first, her heart was flooded with excruciating pain. Seeing her brother suffer was a torment, every lament, every sign of ache, cut deep into her, creating a sense of helplessness that seemed inexhaustible. It also hurt her to adopt a new image of Lucerys, with a completely different light.

That pain gradually dissipated, replaced by something more intense, a relentless fury towards Lucerys and blind devotion towards Aemond. His resilience and bravery which he showed without complaining, were worthy of worship, and fascinated and inspired her in ways she had never imagined. 

Her life began to revolve around him, at a pace that seemed synchronized with his needs. While he dedicated most of his time to training, challenging his physical limits, she became a constant and discreet presence, a faithful shadow moving through his surroundings. She took it upon herself to nurse him back to health, and she manifested in every small gesture, from carefully bringing his meals to delicately cleaning his wounds and changing the bandages with loving precision.

Each night, when sleep eluded him, he would call for her, and she would come, ready to provide a refuge of comfort and support, trying to make the hours of wakefulness a bit more bearable.

Amidst all this, something withered while something else bloomed, an emotion that overflowed and transformed into something much more mature. The first sign of change was the blush that would take over her cheeks every time he whispered his sweet thoughts to her.

He told her that her care was the greatest comfort he had received, that her love was the greatest blessing in his life, that she was everything he had always wanted, and that he hoped to have her by his side forever, forever. These, filled with genuine affection and a fragility he did not share with anyone else, began to penetrate her vulnerable heart.

Aemond, who had grown into a man of imposing beauty, now occupied a special place in her heart. Every feature of his, every gesture, every look seemed to be wrapped in a strength that captivated her completely. The way he moved, the way his eye shone with an intensity that only she seemed to grasp, made her pulse quicken, as if every beat of her heart was an ode to his existence.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the sky with golden and orange hues, she sat on the edge of the window, her gaze lost in the vast expanse of the sea, which reminded her of what once was, while listening to the restless waves crashing on the shore.

Her mother entered with a resolute step. “I wished to speak with you, my dear” she said with a voice trying to remain calm and her face marked with tense lines. She turned to her, a faint smile on her lips at recognizing her presence, and nodded softly. 

Alicent gently took her hand and guided her to the nearby settee. They both sat down, and the silence that followed was laden with a heavy anticipation, palpable as the pressure before lightning splits the darkness.

Feeling the weight of unspoken words, she looked at her with concern. “What troubles you, mother?” she asked, intertwining her hands in an attempt to share the emotional burden as the sadness in her mother’s eyes did not go unnoticed, even though the reasons behind it were not clear.

Alicent sighed deeply before murmuring, her voice breaking. “I am worried about you.”

She looked at her, her curiosity growing with each passing second. “Worried about me? Why?”

Her mother paused, looking at her with apprehension. Finally, she gathered her resolve to speak. “Your relationship with Aemond…” She cleared her throat and licked her lower lip before continuing, carefully choosing her words. “Your brother… he is not the same since the events that befell him. And I wonder whether it is wise for you to remain so close to someone like him” she said cautiously.

Her eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. “Someone like him?” she asked, her tone reflecting her unease.

“You know what he is” her mother replied in a whisper, as if fearing the consequences of voicing her thoughts.

“He is just hurt, rightfully so,” she defended, “and I can help him” she added urgently, trying to make her mother see the determination on her face.

“No, you cannot.” That was an unexpected blow. “Besides, do you not think that what you are feeling may not be entirely genuine? You lost Lucerys, and you needed someone to fill that void.”

Her mother’s words struck a sensitive chord. She looked at her with seriousness, her expression shifting from confusion to profound sadness. “That is not true” she whispered firmly, her voice trembling. “And do not say that again.”

“You may view matters from a different perspective than I, from where you stand” Alicent continued, still gentle, attempting not to alarm her further. “And you have seen how your sister has been since she got married” she said, tears beginning to pool and her lips pressing together to stifle them. “I wish not to condemn you to the same fate”

Exasperation took hold as she defended their relationship, knowing that not all could comprehend. “Their love is not the same as ours” she said, her voice rising with a mix of frustration and desperation. “Aemond is not as you believe.”

“Perhaps it would be wise for you to distance yourself from him” Alicent finally suggested. “A change of scenery, some distance, might offer you clarity.”

Suddenly, she stood up, pulling her hand away sharply. “What are you trying to do?” she demanded, her eyes blazing.

“I am going to send you to Old Town. There, you may meet new people and choose the husband you desire.”

“I want Aemond!” she retorted, shouting as she neared a breaking point. “Do not do this to me” she pleaded, her face reddened by the tears that finally began to fall as she clutched her chest, which seemed to be closing up.

“I merely wish to care for you” her mother said through tears, rising to follow her as she began to pace around the room. “I seek what is best for you” she added, her hands reaching out in an attempt to touch her.

“He is what is best for me,” she countered, “and I am what is best for him.”

“No, he is not” Alicent said, her voice rising into a cry filled with anguish. “He will ultimately tear you apart.”

With a heavy heart, she faced her mother. “Attempt to keep me from him if you must” she threatened, her voice full of defiance. “Send me to the ends of the earth if you want, he shall always find me upon Vhagar.”

Alicent reached her side, cradling her face in her hands with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a love that contradicted her words. They stayed like that for a few minutes, their foreheads touching, both trying to steady their breathing and meet halfway.

“If you will not do it for yourself, at least do it for me” she pleaded, a call to empathy that made her waver. She finally pulled away, stepping back. “It is decided, then” she said with a trembling voice before retreating, shaking her head, her face soaked with resignation.

The rest of the day dragged slowly as she remained locked in her chambers. She had leaned against the wall, seeking solace in the cold of the stone and the salty air that seemed to try to dry every tear that rolled down her cheeks. Shadows lengthened as the light began to fade.

She couldn’t get out of her mind the vision of another future that had collapsed before her eyes. The image of a destiny that once seemed promising and full of hope had now turned desolate, again.

She would be bound to an unknown lord, forced to accept a marriage she did not want, raising children fathered by a man she did not desire, facing a life that offered no freedom or happiness. The weight of an existence with no option to choose her own path pressed on her little by little, like sinking into water.

The door creaked open almost imperceptibly, and Aemond appeared in the doorway, his figure marked by exhaustion. He walked towards her with silent steps, calling her softly, but she was so immersed in her thoughts that she barely heard him. Only the warmth of his proximity pulled her out of her reverie.

When she slowly turned to look at him, the sadness in her face, with swollen eyes and tears still filling them, made his expression shift to one of alarm. “What is it?” he asked, his voice thick with worry as his brows furrowed.

She endeavored to speak with resolve, but her voice betrayed her struggle to remain composed. “Mother is going to send me away,” she said, her voice cracking, “to find a husband.” Aemond’s reaction was immediate. His eye widened, and his jaw tightened, indignation clear in his demeanor.

“She dares to take you away from me?” he exclaimed, his tone rising. One hand encircled her waist with a strength that was both tender and firm, while the other rested on her neck, ensuring she felt his sincerity.  “I will not allow it” he declared with fervor. “I will not allow you to be wed to some mere lord.”

She bit her lower lip, the effort to contain her sobs making her tremble. “It is decided, she said” she whispered, the sorrow in her words intensifying his grip.

“She has no word in this” he asserted with a voice seething with fury. For a moment, he allowed her tears to flow freely as he held her, her forehead resting against his chest.

After a few moments of finding comfort in his embrace, he gently pulled her away, taking her by the roots of her hair and compelling her to look up. “To whom do you belong?” he asked with a firmness that left no room for doubt.

She met his face, her devotion undeniable in her eyes. “To you” she whispered, her voice soft.

He nodded slowly, a small, approving smile curling the corner of his lips, casting a soft light over his stern features. Despite the roughness of the skin of his hands, calloused from the sword, his thumbs softly traced hearts on her blushing face as their gazes interlocked in a silent dance.

“Then prove it” he whispered, his voice low and laden with deep meaning, a glint in his eye. “Let no tongue dare question it.”

Her pulse began to race with a nearly painful speed, each beat pounding in her chest, marking the rhythm of an uncontrollable desire, and her breath grew labored. She looked at him with a mixture of expectation, her eyes shining. Then, her lips parted, a gesture that sealed a tacit pact.

She had imagined this moment countless times, each scenario more vivid than the last, but she had never felt brave enough to act on those desires. Excitement enveloped her like a surging tide, threatening to sweep her away into uncharted waters.

Without warning, he leaned in, and their lips met in a tentative kiss, igniting like the first flicker of a flame. She responded with a relieved sigh, the initial caution melting away into a deeper surrender. Their breaths intertwined, ragged and heated, as the kiss grew fiercely.

Although their mouths had joined before, never with such haste. The tip of his tongue gently slid over her lips, seeking to pave the way for a more intimate exploration, while her hands gripped him tightly, feeling the powerful beat of his heart.

Her fingers glided over his chest, ascended his neck, and finally tangled in his soft hair, pulling him toward her with an uncontrollable need.

In that moment, she was aware that she was transgressing established rules, breaking from the expected, and that her mother would undoubtedly feel a profound disappointment, but for once, she allowed herself to be swept away by the force of impulse, yielding to him without reservations.

Her lips, red and moist from the kiss, were slightly parted, gasping for air as their eager hands hurried to undress one another. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her toward the bed with a sense of urgency.

With her back pressed against the cool sheets and him dominating above her, she couldn't help the jolt of nerves that coursed through her stomach. She delicately removed his eyepatch, placing it on the nightstand as if shedding the last remnants of restraint.

As he kissed her fervently, she felt his hardness pressing against her entrance, intensifying her longing. She moved her hips toward him, seeking the union.

When the need for another breath became imminent, without uttering a single word, he began to trace a path of kisses that glided softly down her neck, where each touch made her skin prickle, awakening sensations she had never experienced. 

As his lips descended, warmth grew within her, and the air became hotter. He reached her breasts, where he placed his hand over one, provoking a shiver that coursed through her body. Gently, he caressed it with his long fingers, while with the other, he dedicated himself to leaving wet kisses that marked her skin with desire. When his mouth settled on her nipple and began to suck, the slight contact of his teeth left her breathless.

To her dismay, he stopped, looking at her with an eye full of promises, the intensity of his sapphire shining under the moonlight as he continued his descent, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

He buried his face between her thighs, and she gasped as she felt his tongue on her puffy folds, exploring her sensitive flesh. Her cries grew louder as he licked the length of her wetness, drinking deep from her core.

Then, as his tongue flicked against her bud, he inserted one of his long fingers inside her. One of her hands went to his hair, desperate to hold onto something as she felt him savoring every drop of her, in perfect synchronization with his fingers sliding in and out of her.

She threw her head back while pulling his closer, and uncontrollable moans began to escape her lips, each deeper and more filled with surprise than the last. She felt her body begin to tremble under his power, a pressure building inside her, her back arched and her hips pressed against the mattress.

"I feel like... I feel like" she cried, her brows slightly furrowed and her mouth open.

"Yes, my love" he whispered, his thumb expertly attending to her most sensitive spot while his fingers kept working wonders inside of her. “Let go for me” he said, and she felt herself slipping over the edge, her body convulsing and her legs quivering as the ecstasy washed over.

As the waves receded, she lay there, breathing heavily, her body still pulsing. He rose from between her legs, his eyes fixed on hers, and as he kissed her, she could taste herself. 

He loomed over her, his arm planted firmly on one side of her body while the other went around her neck, taking her hair and pulling her back again. "Open your eyes," he commanded, his voice a whisper thick with desire, “see who is taking you."

She obeyed, still breathless as he aligned himself with her center, and her legs locked tightly around his waist as he sank agonizingly slowly into her welcoming warmth. A delicious burning sensation settled within her as he stretched and filled her so, so right.

A loud moan escaped her kiss-swollen lips, a symphony of pain and pleasure flooding her every sense. When she brought one of her trembling hands to her mouth to stifle the sounds, he firmly pulled it away.

"Let everyone hear that you are mine" he declared, increasing the speed of his movements, drawing forth more whimpers, resonating in the room while her body writhed, responding to every harder thrust of his hips. “And mine alone.”

After the simple wedding ceremony, held before the eyes of the seven to avoid "upset them any further" her life seemed to have been ripped away from a dream. 

Days passed in a constant sway on Vhagar's back, as he showered her with gifts and spent nearly every moment of the day making love to her at every hour and place, sealing their affection in a nearly oppressive manner.

But time, like an unrelenting moon, began to shift the waters. The maester confirmed her suspicions, that a life was growing inside her, and everything changed abruptly. When she revealed this to Aemond, she had anticipated several reactions: surprise, joy, gratitude, but she never imagined the stoic expression on his face, marked by a veil of displeasure, as if the baby, instead of being a pure blessing, had become an imminent threat to their exclusive bond.

"How can this be?" he erupted, his expression laden with disbelief. "I never allowed any of my seed to remain in you, and" he stammered, shaking his head, “and you, you have drinked the tea, have you not?”

She remained composed, her voice steady as she explained. "The maesters said that, even with our precautions, it is possible. It is not that surprising, given the frequency with which..." She smiled wryly, trying to ease the tension in the air and lighten the mood, but it faded when she saw he was not convinced.

One evening, as she looked at herself in the mirror, the curve of her pregnancy prominent, she saw Aemond enter with his usual gravity. The baby, already making its presence felt, began to move—a small reminder of the life they shared. She smiled and called him, eager for his reaction.

"My love, come here" she beckoned, hoping to draw him near. He approached with an impassive face, deliberately avoiding her gaze. She placed his hand on her rounded belly, but he brushed it away with a slight brusqueness. "Why do you pull away?" she inquired, her voice trembling with hurt.

Then, though wounded, she lifted her hand to caress his face. "I like to think I shall have a little version of you" she commented tenderly, trying to infuse hope into a situation that seemed to be crumbling. However, rather than sharing in her enthusiasm, he appeared troubled.

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "What is it that troubles you, my love?" she asked, concern lacing her tone.

"I cannot help it" he replied. "The baby... it changes everything. It used to be so simple, just you and me."

"But it is a natural part of our life together" she attempted to explain, filled with a desperate calm. "It is merely a new phase."

"One I did not ask for" he retorted sarcastically. "Every time I look at you, I feel as if I am losing you. How can you expect me not to feel threatened by this?"

She frowned, her frustration growing. "And what would you have me do?" she asked, with annoyance. When he looked at her, his gaze indicated something deeper. "Aemond" she reproached, her hurt more apparent.

"Do you not understand what this means? It will draw your attention from what truly matters."

She looked at him, still struggling to grasp his anguish. “You are being unreasonable.”

"Do you believe that?" he asked, his voice filled with desperation. "Because I am not so sure. The baby will require all your attention, and I... how can I compete with that?"

She took a step back, shaking her head slowly. “Compete?” she murmured, a note of sorrow in her voice.

"Yes" he admitted, and seeing her reaction, he sought her gaze almost pleadingly. "I never imagined I would have to share you so soon. It is just that..." He hesitated, struggling with his emotions, his eyes drifting to her belly. "The baby... it will separate us once it is born; I will be lost in the change."

Her voice quivered as she responded, desperate to bridge the distance. “No, he will not.”

"The idea that another might possess a part of you... is unbearable" he said, breaking down, frustrated, unable to accept her words.

"But, my love, what we share will not fade. This love we hold for one another does not divide; it only grows" she countered, striving to offer comfort.

"It is hard to trust when everything I know seems to be changing" he confessed, his voice revealing his vulnerability. 

She sighed, with a growing ache in her chest, and embraced him softly. "You are not losing me, you never will" she assured him with a conviction that tried to counterbalance his growing unease.

"No matter what?" he insisted, his tone carrying an intensity that felt more like a demand than a mere question. His embrace was a blend of desperation and control, as if he needed her promise to calm his inner turmoil. “Promise me.”

"I promise" she sweetened her words even further. "Just be good and let me help you, do not shut me out, yes?" she said, planting a small kiss on his furrowed brows. 

However, promises and caresses were not enough to fill the void that had opened between them. In the weeks that followed, his attempts to reconnect with her through gestures, though well-intentioned, did not align with what she was willing to receive or give at that time. It often resulted in awkward and mismatched moments, as his efforts did not meet her current needs. Frustrated, he began to spend more time away under various pretexts and excuses.

"What if it turns out to be twins, as I had?" asked her sister with a playful smile. The scene was serene, with both of them in the room while Helaena meticulously embroidered blankets for the cradle, each stitch an act of anticipatory love. She remained silent while her heart raced. Aemond's concern for their child was already overwhelming; the idea of facing that anxiety doubled terrified her.

Unable to respond, Aemond entered the room bearing a bouquet of flowers. "I thought these might brighten your day" he said, offering them.

She regarded the carnations, her eyes reflecting surprise and a hint of sadness. "They are quite beautiful" she murmured, accepting them with a grateful smile. "Thank you." 

Seeing that he was about to leave, she stepped towards him, her eyes conveying a silent plea for more. "Perhaps you might stay with us for a while. I was thinking we could choose the babe’s name together" she suggested, her tone gentle but laden with hope.

He casted a fleeting glance at the door with an inscrutable expression, and replied, "I shall leave you both to it.”

She felt a pang of disappointment, and with a resigned sigh, returned to her place. Helaena, witnessing the exchange, gave a gentle caress to her belly, trying to offer comfort. "What troubles you?" she asked after a few moments.

"I am worried" she confessed, trying to contain her sadness. "I fear Aemond is not entirely happy about this." Noticing her sister's concerned face, she quickly added, trying to downplay the severity of her feelings. "He simply has not yet come to terms with it."

"It is only natural to feel overwhelmed, but it is not fair for you to bear all the burden" Helaena gently said.

She sought to soothe her, her voice a whisper full of justifications. "It is just that everything has unfolded so quickly for him. At times, I believe he fears losing me more than confronting what lies ahead."

Helaena, clearly preoccupied, took her hands. "Once the babe arrives, you will need to devote a lot of time to him. He must adjust to that reality now" she advised.

"Perhaps when he sees the babe, he will come to understand" she said, though her tone betrayed a lack of conviction. "Did you experience something similar with Aegon?"

Helaena shrugged, her expression showing sadness and frustration. "Aegon was always a devoted father, always happy" she whispered. "I only fear that I was not the mother he had wished for his children."

Although the distance hurt, she faced the pregnancy with the support of her siblings and her mother, hoping that he would overcome his insecurities and find his way back to her. But when the babe was born, the situation did not improve, it only worsened.

As she dined with her sister and mother, the conversation revolved around the latest court topics and the children. It was at that moment that Alicent, with a touch of nervousness, announced:

“On the morrow Rhaenyra’s family shall visit us.”

The words hung in the air, and both Helaena and she looked up from their plates. Her pulse quickened immediately. Although she had maintained a steady anger towards Lucerys, the mere fact that he would be nearby again stirred a whirlwind of emotions. The thought of seeing him, of confronting the past, filled her with a crushing anxiety.

During the court session, Aemond instructed her to remain in her quarters, claiming that she should not concern herself with trivialities. She had suspected a more hidden motivation behind his decision but accepted his command without questioning too much, she would learn the details through Helaena after.

Hours later, she found herself on the balcony of the gardens, her gaze lost in the sea, a place where she used to seek comfort and clarity. Enjoying the breeze on her skin, she felt a presence behind her and knew, without even looking, who was there. Despite everything, she couldn’t resist the urge to see him, to ask the questions that had remained unanswered.

“It is a lovely day” he said, approaching her side. His voice was more deep and mature, but just as sweet as she remembered. 

“Indeed” she replied softly, almost as if Aemond could hear her from a distance.

“It has been a long time” he continued, his words heavy with regret, gazing at her instead of the landscape.

“Yes, it has.”

“Things got out of control.”

She almost laughed at his understatement. “You took my brother’s eye” she exclaimed, her voice laced with indignation.

“And I regret it every day” he confessed, his tone genuinely sorrowful

“Of course you do” she retorted, the sarcasm unmistakable. “It is not easy to forget such a heinous act.”

“I am aware” he said, heavy.

After a few minutes of charged silence, she broke it, her voice reflecting years of resentment and longing. “You ruined everything.”

“I had to act” Lucerys said, defensively.

“Act about what?” She demanded. “Because he claimed a dragon?” She looked at him, incredulous and disturbed. “You brought a dagger to an ambush, you meant to kill him, just because of that?”

“No,” he interrupted quickly, “because he was going to kill Joffrey” he said, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Did he ever tell you that?” he inquired, his voice mingling with frustration and anger. “About how he was about to kill Joffrey, calling him a bastard, when I intervened.” She shook her head, recalling what Aemond had said.

“Do not deceive me” she said, her disbelief evident. “He would never do something like that.”

“I would never have done something so grave without a serious reason” he insisted.

“Speak not ill of him” she warned, her voice rising in a defensive shout. “You were always unkind to him, always.”

“Unkind, yes” he said, his expression torn. “Do you truly consider me a monster?” he asked, his eyes filling with tears.

“I did not until that day” she replied firmly.

Lucerys gazed at her with an intensity that seemed to pierce her very soul. “You knew me better than any other” he whispered, making her tremble. “Do you truly believe I could be capable of that?”

She was left speechless, feeling her carefully constructed world beginning to crumble. She turned away, desiring to process what she had just heard. When she noticed that Lucerys was trying to follow her, she raised a hand in a gesture of plea, asking for space.

Upon reaching her room, she collapsed onto the bed, her legs feeling like water. Her breathing became erratic, and doubts seemed endless, pulling her deeper into a sea of anguish.

Minutes later, Aemond burst in, and upon seeing her in such a state, he approached quickly, his face overflowing with concern.

“What happened?” he asked urgently, searching her gaze. 

“What happened that night?”

He frowned in confusion. “What night?”

“The night you lost your eye” she said, her voice breaking as she sought answers.

“Do you wish me to recount the events of that night?” he inquired. “Besided, I have already told you.”

She gazed at him intently, silently pleading for the truth. Seeing her resolve, he began to recount. “When I entered the castle, after claiming Vhagar, they were waiting for me. The five of them began to attack me without cause, and Lucerys took my dagger and...”

“Lucerys took your dagger?” she interrupted. “I thought he had brought the dagger.”

He stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. “I must have made a mistake. It was many years ago” he simply said. Then, his face began to harden, his expression shifting from confusion to irritation. He stood up, visibly agitated. “Have you spoken to him?” he asked, his tone edged with irritation.

“Then answer me” she demanded, her voice steely. “Which version is it?”

He remained silent, his gaze revealing anger and disappointment. Finally, he shook his head with an attitude that seemed more mocking than sincere.

“I am at a loss” she said, her voice quavering with confusion and anguish, her insecurity filling every word as she rose from the bed, pacing nervously around the room. She placed a hand on her abdomen, grasping at the air as if it were slipping through her fingers.

“Do you now side with him?” he asked, low. “With the one who took my eye?”

The pain pierced her. Despite witnessing Aemond’s vulnerability, the doubts she had tried to suppress began to resurface. 

“I have always listened to you alone, I have placed my faith in you,” she said, her voice breaking. “But now…” The version of events he had told her seemed increasingly fragile. 

“I wish to be left alone” she asked, feeling hopeless.

But he, with determined steps, his expression tense and eyes fixed on her, stood in front of her. He took her by the jaw with one hand, forcing her to look at him. His eye, reddened by distress, could no longer conceal what was hidden behind it.

“Please, let go of me” she begged, frightened. She felt that the man before her was no longer the one she knew and trusted.

“No” he said, with a terrifying firmness. “Everything I have done has always been to protect what is mine.” His hands gripped her skin with a force that promised to leave marks. “But if you wish for me to be the villain” he whispered with icy intensity, “perhaps I should be.”

She frowned, struggling beneath his grip, but he held her immovably with an unyielding strength. Every attempt to free herself seemed futile against his determination.

“You have casted me aside, and now you doubt my word?” he asked rhetorically, his voice taut and sharp. “It is time for me to impose order” he said, jaw clenched, taking her by the hair and dragging her towards the bed.

“Let go of me” she pleaded again through tears. Desperation and pain were reflected in every movement as she tried to escape the embrace that was no longer comforting and warm.

He held her, and her scalp ached from his grip. "You have forgotten who you belong to" he told her, his voice threatening and his hot breath against her ear, while with the other hand he lowered his pants and then began to lift her dress.

In the bathtub, the cold water had already chilled her wrinkled skin, and her vacant stare remained fixed on nothingness. With the tea Aemond had sent and half a jug of wine in her system, she tried to numb the pain.

Helaena found her there and, without a word, helped her up, then chose a blue dress for her—one she had embroidered long ago and had never had the chance to wear.

As her sister worked on her hair, her voice cracked with a whisper full of desolation. “Do you ever imagine what it would have been like?” she asked.

Helaena hesitated for a moment before asking, as if she didn’t already know. “What do you mean?”

“How it would all be if mother had married us to them” she replied, her eyes dry, devoid of any remaining tears.

Helaena paused, feeling the weight of the words. “Every day” with a long sigh, she admitted.

“I wish I knew what it would have been like” she murmured. They remained silent for a few minutes, embraced by the pain, until their mother called them to supper

When their king arrived, carried in a chair by guards, it marked the beginning of the other part of the evening. Aemond, sitting beside her, did not utter a word. Her gaze remained fixed on her cup, as if the drink was merely a distraction in an environment that no longer made sense. 

“How good it is to see you all tonight, together” he said, his gaze sweeping over the table with sadness. “This is an occasion for celebration, it seems,” he continued, “my grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses.” 

The news broke her heart, and the pain was evident in the exchanged glances between her and Luke. The rest exchanged smiles, but for her, the moment was one of deep mourning. “A toast to the young princes and their betrothed.”

The glasses were raised in a general toast, and she drank from her glass in one gulp, seeking the comfort she couldn’t find. Then she hurriedly refilled her glass.

“Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys, the future Lord of the Tides” he added, and everyone raised their glasses again. “Hear, hear” they said in unison, while Rhaena congratulated Lucerys with a cheerful whisper. She emptied her glass again, feeling the warm liquid course down her throat.

When he stood up to make a toast, the room fell into anticipation. Every movement he made seemed painful, and this only intensified her sense of sadness. Although her relationship with him had never been particularly close, the proximity of his departure put everything into perspective, and her heart ached at the impending reality.

With a raspy tone reflecting his weariness, the king said “It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.” 

He attempted to smile, but his effort only highlighted the frailty the years had left in him. “My own face is no longer a handsome one, if indeed it ever was, but tonight I wish you to see me as I am. Not just as a king, but your father, your brother, your husband, and your grandsire,” he continued, “who may not, it seems, walk for much longer among you.”

“Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts” he pleaded, his voice choked with emotion. “The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly” he begged, his sorrow evident as he sat down and Alicent helped him adjust his mask once more.

Jace suddenly stood up after a few toasts, drawing everyone’s attention. She was absorbed in her thoughts, her eyes fixed on the empty glass, and the abrupt change at the table jolted her. Aegon returned to his seat, casting curious glances at Jace, while Aemond stood up, his presence imposing silence and attention. She huffed in annoyance as she poured more wine.

When Jacacerys raised his glass, his gaze fixed on Aemond, Helaena listened intently. “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond” her nephew said with a smile that seemed more a formality than a genuine celebration. 

“We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles” with a final sip, he ended his toast, and she watched as the tension mounted.

“To you as well” said Aegon, his tone an indifference that did nothing to ease the atmosphere. Helaena fidgeted nervously, a small tremor on her lips, and she refilled her glass, much to Aemond’s displeasure, who was burning her with his gaze and asking her to stop.

With an unexpected impulse, she abruptly stood up, surprising him and immediately catching Lucerys’s concerned glance. Her glass trembled slightly in her hands, and her gaze settled on Rhaena and Baela, who were radiant with a hope she envied deeply. 

“I would like to toast to Rhaena and Baela” she said firmly, raising her glass with a smile that failed to hide the sadness in her eyes. “They will be married soon.”

The young woman's smiles were a glimmer of happiness amidst the gloom that enveloped her. The sight intensified her pain. She felt overwhelmed; the life they will have is a fantasy she had let go, full of promise and hope, and her reality seemed even darker in contrast.

“It is not so bad, mostly he just ignores you” she said, trying to sound lighthearted. “Except sometimes when he is mad” she added, her voice breaking slightly at the end of the sentence, and with one last long sip from her glass and a poor attempt at a smile, she sat back down. Tears pooled in her eyes, heavy and treacherous, but she managed to hold them back, though her heart ached seeing the concern, sadness, and anger on Lucerys’s face.

“Or when he is drunk” Helaena added with an equally harsh truth. Aegon was clearly irritated, and Aemond, beside her, visibly tensed. Otto looked at them, his lips slightly turned down as he sighed.

“Let us have some music” Viserys suggested, as a momentary truce, an invitation to disconnect. When the melodies began to fill the space and more wine flowed freely, the atmosphere gradually relaxed.

She was holding Helaena’s hand when they looked up and saw Jace and Lucerys extending their hands with a silent but clear invitation. Her heart skipped a beat seeing Lucerys, and in her broken gaze, there was a trace of hope.

They accepted the invitation with a trembling smile, avoiding the gaze of the men beside them. Nervous laughter escaped her lips as the four of them moved toward the cleared area. 

Though they were not experts in the art of dancing, the joy of the moment became evident. Their movements were awkward but filled with a fleeting happiness. The contrast between the joy of the dance and the internal sadness was hurtful, yet also sweet, like a taste of what could have been.

As they twirled and changed partners, time seemed to stand still, the melody offering them a respite. Helaena and she found themselves holding hands, and her sister whispered with gentle melancholy: “This is how it would have been.” She smiled. For a brief moment, the pain faded.

Applause and laughter filled the room, and Otto and Alicent watched them with smiles, perhaps pleased to see the two enjoying their brief escape, while Aemond and Aegon’s scorching stares were fixed on their backs.

After a few more minutes of laughter, everyone stood up. Realizing what was happening, they also stopped, catching their breath while watching their father, understanding that this might be the last time. They held each other's hands tightly, and when he disappeared through the door, they decided to continue dancing, honoring his final wish.

When Luke extended his hand again, with a nostalgic smile that reminded her of the one he used to give her as a child, a loud thud resonated from the table, startling them. Turning to face the table, they saw Aemond with his glass raised toward them.

“Final tribute” he said, looking at her. She sensed what was coming as she glanced at her mother, who in turn looked at Aemond with alarm. Suddenly, he shifted his gaze to Luke. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey” he said, the tone subtly changing with the second name. “Each of them handsome, wise…” he paused, a small smile curving his lips, “strong” he concluded.

“Come” he said, raising his glass higher, just like Aegon. “Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again” Jace challenged, chin lifted.

“Why? It was only a compliment” Aemond said as he approached. “Do you not think yourself strong?” he taunted.

Luke landed a solid blow on Aemond, making his face turn sideways, though not a drop was spilled from his glass. Aegon, in turn, went after Jace.

“Enough” Alicent shouted, standing up from the table.

Aemond looked at Luke with a sneering smile as he pushed him to the ground. Seeing Luke on the floor made him smile even more, and then he turned his gaze to her for a brief moment. Alicent tried to reach Aemond, attempting to grab him, but he brushed her off with indifference.

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother” he said, turning back to them. Both Luke and Jace were being held by the guards, struggling to break free. “Though it seems my nephews are not quite as proud of theirs.”

She watched him from a distance, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Daemon's intervention, standing firm and stepping in, made Aemond uninterested in continuing the confrontation. He walked with measured steps toward her, grabbing her by the wrist, and dragged her out of the hall, ignoring her protests. She turned her head one last time to look at Lucerys, a trace of desperation in his eyes as the guards kept him apart.

Nights passed since the coronation of her brother, and the silence of her mother's missives had become a deafening echo, a void. No letters, no attempts at negotiation had received a response.

Just before leaving for Storm's End to seek Lord Baratheon's support and his army, Aemond found her staring out at the sea, the sky darkening into shades of gray and deep blue, with clouds threatening to obscure every star.

“I know I have erred” he confessed, his voice carrying a depth of vulnerability. “I should not have treated you in such a manner. You have been my heart’s desire since our youth, always” he whispered, the weight of his confession reflected in the melancholy of his words. “You stood by me in my darkest hours. When everything seemed to be falling apart around me, you were there. Yet, seeing you turn to him… it tore me apart” his voice cracked, and his words flowed like a torrent of anguish, each syllable imbued with deep sorrow.

“I have never known such pain, such abandonment” he continued, as if the wounded child he once was had returned, now with a heart full of desperation, pleading for forgiveness and filled with remorse. 

She felt a tug in her soul, as if the child who once yearned to soothe his pain was listening. Yet she resisted the urge to look at him; she knew that if she did, she would succumb.

“You are aware of their nature, of what they are capable of. You have witnessed it, even if you allow them to sweeten your ears against the truth” he added, his voice heavy with helplessness. “Perhaps you still hold love for our enemy, a love that clouds your ability to see my perspective.”

“But I can remedy that” he said,  like a solemn oath, pointing to his chest with a painful resolve. “You have always been meant for me, and me alone. No matter what, you said” he declared, with an oppressive anticipation, palpable like the fury of a storm about to break.

She, still agitated, kept her gaze fixed on the sea, where the water continued its chaotic dance.

The rest of the day slipped by in restless thoughts. Although anger consumed her and sadness bound her, there was something unbreakable that kept her alert: Aemond remained her brother, the father of her child, her husband. This complexity kept her on edge, and her concern grew when he did not return at the expected time.

Night fell like a dark cloak, and the thunder of Vhagar’s wings echoed through the sky as the waves crashed against the rocks with a rage that seemed to shake the very earth. The night chill seeped into her bones, and her breath condensed into clouds of vapor that floated in the icy air, a cruel irony compared to the warm calm of previous nights.

The sound of the door opening startled her. She turned slowly, but the darkness made it hard to discern his figure looming in the doorway.

“You are awake” his voice resonated between the stone walls.

“I needed to make sure you were well” she replied, straining to see through the gloom.

“Did you?” he questioned, skeptical.

“Yes” she answered. “Come here” she requested softly. He began to move slowly toward her, the dim light of the moon revealing him bit by bit. He was drenched, the rain had plastered his clothes to his body, and he had his arms crossed over his back, as if trying to hide himself from something other than the cold.

“Shall I prepare you a hot bath?” she offered, noticing his disheveled state. He continued to regard her with an unyielding expression.

“No” he replied firmly, approaching.

As he drew nearer, and she could finally see him clearly, her heart raced even faster. She frowned upon noticing traces of blood on his face and moved closer, her concern taking over. “Aemond, speak to me” she urged, her voice trembling with desperation. “Are you hurt?”

“Are you worried about me?” he asked, with a glimmer of hope.

“Of course I am, Aemond” she said, gently cupping his face in her hands. He allowed her to examine him in silence. “Are you hurt?” she repeated, fear tightening her chest. “Please, tell me, what happened?” she implored, looking at him intently, her heart pounding wildly.

He gave her a faint smile, resting his right hand on the hilt of his dagger, the blood still fresh, staining the steel like a bad omen, while his left remained clenched at his side. Confusion twisted in her gut as she looked at him, desperately searching for visible wounds, but finding only the sinister glint of his blade.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, he opened his left hand, and an eye fell from his palm, rolling to the floor with a sickening thud. The reality crashed over her like a cascade of icy water, freezing her in place. She stepped back, retreating slowly, her heart pounding in her chest as he watched her with a predatory intensity. “What have you done?” she asked, horror and accusation in her shaky voice.

“Only what was necessary” he whispered, deceptively soft. “I have always asked for you, only you, all for myself” he said, taking a deliberate step toward her. “I thought I had succeeded” he continued, moving closer, the shadows in the room deepening and twisting around him like hungry serpents. “But then he came back, and I realized… I remained a second.” His voice turned bitter, poison seeping into every word. 

“Always the second. The second son, then the second love, then your second priority” he said, frowning, tilting his head to one side, his gaze burning with resentment that felt like a knife against her sanity.

A twisted smile curled his lips. “Clearly, I am powerless with the child; that opportunity has passed” he remarked, as if savoring his own despair. “But now, now I am your only love” he declared with satisfaction dripping from his words like blood from his hands. She found herself cornered against the cold, the very walls seeming to close in around her, suffocating her with their oppressive weight. “And I shall not rest until I have the crown on my head” he whispered in a low growl, absorbing the dim light and plunging the room into an abyss of dread. Outside, the storm finally raged.

[xxblairexxss]

Ice cream date

Theme : Fluff

Thank you so much for your request, anon! 🩷🫶🏻 A short break from angst before I start writing for another angst request! I loveeeee writing for dad!charles soo adorable! 🥹

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“Charles?” You tilted your head to your side once your husband picked up the call.

“Yes, honey?”

You looked back facing your nail lady and pointed at the pastel lavender colour before bringing your phone back to your ear. “Can you pick up your little daughter from the daycare today? I don’t think my nail appointment would end in 15 minutes.”

“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about her. Enjoy your day out with your friends, okay?Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, honey! I love you!” You ended the call and went back picking different charms for your new nails.

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“Dada!”

“Hey, baby! I missed you.” Charles crouched down and picked up his baby girl into his arms and nodded as an act of acknowledgement and gratitude to the daycare worker as he turned away to make their way to the car.

“Sir, may I have a word with you?” He turned back and raised his brow in question to the sudden interference.

“Yeah? Yeah, sure. Is there anything wrong?”

Charles was told how his little girl was caught scribbled on her classmate’s notebook using her crayons. The notebook was actually used for kids and tutors for daily activities which required paper and pencils. Not only did his little girl scribbled on her classmate’s notebook, she also shred a few pages.

“We left the children a few minutes and came back to see the other student crying. And this is what she did.” She handed him the proof of crime and Charles was astounded. He had to continuously apologise on behalf of his daughter while Y/D/N kept on hugging his neck and giggling in his arms, completely oblivious to the informal parent-teacher meeting.

“Dada, I want choco this time!” She squealed in her car seat, elated for her daddy and daughter ice-cream date which had become a ritual every time Charles picked her up.

“No ice cream this time, baby.”

“Eh? Why? But, dada, I want ice-cream!” She stopped clapping her hands and caught Charles’s gaze on her through the rear view mirror.

“You were not a good girl today so you don’t get ice cream. We are going home and there’ll be no movie night for you too.” Charles saw she jutted her bottom lips out and whimpered.

“Did you say sorry to your friend?” Charles looked back into the rearview mirror and saw she was wiping her tears off with her arms. “Baby, dada’s asking you. Did you say sorry?”

She didn’t reply as she kept on sobbing but she actually nodded to his question but Charles didn’t catch that so he thought she was ignoring him.

“No cartoon after this and go straight to your room. I’m telling mommy what you did today and she will scold you even more.” He had always been very gentle with her before she was even born. He never had a sister nor any girls from his family members. When you told him you were pregnant with a girl, you knew right away he would make her the centre of his world.

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When you came home, Charles was in the bathroom while your daughter was nowhere to be seen. You usually would always came home with your husband and daughter cuddling on the couch watching Disney movies.

“Baby?” You had found her in her room with puffy eyes. Sitting on her little bed, you brushed her hair away from her face and she hugged your middle. “Who made you cry?” You cupped on her chubby cheeks and softly rubbed your thumbs across her cheekbone, wiping the freshly tears away.

“Dada hates me…”

“Who said that? He loves you so much, baby.”

She ended up telling you everything that happened, which made her cry again and you had to continuously wiped her tears and told her it was fine. You had learnt that she was upset because she was looking forward to her little ice cream date and was turned down by her dad without being told why. She was upset because she had never seen her daddy being so mad at her and she didn’t understand why.

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“I missed you.”

You were making dinner when Charles hugged you from behind and you could smell the scent of lavender from his shower gel when he dropped trail of kisses on your neck.

“Did you get into a fight with your other girlfriend?”

“What?” He broke the hug and went to your side, leaning against the kitchen counter with a frown. “Did she complain to you? Honey, she ruined her classmate’s notebook. How can I not ground her.” He stole a slice of mango that you were cutting and you slapped his hand away.

“Did you actually ask her what happened?” You raised your brows when he looked dubious to the questions.

“Did she tell you what actually happened?”

“Yeah, she did. And I think you are in trouble this time, honey.” You took a slice of mango and put it in your mouth, chewing it while looking very thrilled meanwhile your husband looked like he was going through every single possibilities in his head.

“Oh! Hi baby! Are you hungry?” You exclaimed when your little girl approached your little time with your husband with her fluffy friend, Mr. Boo.

“Baby, do you want to set the table with dada? Like always?” He crouched down and stretched his arms, expecting her little girl to come running as she usually did but she didn’t. She went to your side instead and hugged your leg, struggling a little when Mr. Boo almost slipped off her little arms.

“Oh, shit.”

“Language, Charles!” You glowered at him. “Baby, let daddy set the table alone while you helped me stir the soup, alright?” You picked her up as she shrieked with laughter, leaving a peck on your cheek and tried to grasped on the ladle, completely ignoring your husband.

“Can I get a kiss too, baby?” Charles went to her side and leaned in to kiss but she quickly turned her head away, hiding her face in your neck. “Honey, help me here.”

“Don’t involve me.”

Charles didn’t get a kiss and he stopped asking when your daughter got into a fit crying as she got annoyed from the constant bugging. When she walked to the dining table, Charles pulled the chair by his side, as she usually wanted to sit by her daddy but this time, she went straight to your side. You had to hold your laugh seeing your husband looked defeated with the constant ignoring game.

“Baby, say ah!” He cut the steak into a smaller piece and stretched out his arm that was holding the fork to feed his little girl but she shook her head without looking at him.

“No thank, dada.”

“Wow, I just got rejected over and over. Honey, can you–“ You shook your head without letting him to finish his questions.

“I can’t help you, Charles. Serve you right.”

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You had left your little girl alone in the living room while she got busy munching on her animal shaped biscuits as you went to the kitchen to hug your husband from the back while he was washing the dishes, your head leaned against his body.

“Did she make you upset, honey?”

You heard him heaved a sigh which made you chuckle. “You are so silly. Just go and apologise, she’ll be fine.”

“Flirting you was way easier. Ouch!” He winced when you slapped him on his back. “Honey, she’s 2! Where did learn how to sulk like a literal teenage girl?”

“She probably learned it from me.” You leaned away when he turned his body around as he properly engulfed you back in his arms.

“Why did you teach her these bad things. Where is she, anyway?” Charles slanted forward to try to look for Y/D/N and you pulled his face closer to peck on his cheek.

“She’s eating her snacks. Go and talk to her, baby. I don’t think she’s still cranky.”

“Wish me luck.” He tilted your chin and brushed his lips on yours, patting your bum as he left the kitchen.

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“Hi, baby. Can I get one?”

Her small hand was in a fist, full from grabbing the biscuits along with her little chubby cheeks. When Charles took a seat by her side and asked for one, she was contemplating, her other hand opening and closing as she looked on her little plate back to her dad. Once she came to a decision, she took two pieces of the biscuits and handed it to him.

“Can you feed daddy instead?”

She lifted up her hand and put the biscuits into his mouth, giggling when Charles tried to chomp on her hands.

“Are you still mad at daddy?”

“Not much. A little bit, I think. Is dada still mad at me?” She pinched her chubby fingers together and scrunched her nose while answering the question.

“Daddy’s not mad at you, baby. I’m sorry, okay? Can you forgive me?” He swept off the crumbs on her cheeks with his hand as she put another biscuits into her mouth.

“My friend ruined my book first, dada.” She wept the back of her hand against her cheeks and Charles immediately leaned in to stole a peck on her cheek. She looked like a little chipmunk, he couldn’t not kiss those little face.

“What else did your friend did, baby?”

“She threw my book away and I was upset so I did bad things back to her. But I said sorry to her.” Charles’s heart was swollen with guilt when he saw her little pout.

“Next time, don’t do that to others. Just let daddy knows if someone’s being mean to you, okay? Are we good now, baby?”

“I think so.” She wiped off her hands once she was done eating and grinned. “I finished!”

“Can daddy get a hug?” She pushed her little chair back to move closer to her dad and wrapped her arms around his neck. Charles stood up with her in his arms and began attacking her face with kisses, making her laughed.

“Oh? You guys are back to best friends now, I see.”

“Mama!” She ducked down and pecked on your cheek as Charles pulled you closer by his freehand.

“You got crumbs all over your face, darling. Did daddy say sorry already?” You brushed off the leftover crumbs on her face and fixed her bangs.

“Yeah, dada said sorry to me.”

“Dada owe you an ice cream date, right, baby?” You poked on his waist, causing him to twitch.

“I want chocolate ice cream!” She squealed with exhilaration, causing both you and Charles to chortle.

“Can mommy come too?”

Charles shook his head immediately and turned your daughter away. “Mommy can’t come. It’s only for us, right?”

“That’s mean!” You scowled and slapped on his arm.

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @aundercover

please let me know if you would like to be removed or added in the tag list!

[fandomnerd9602]

TLC (🌶️)

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

Life was well adjusting for you, your doe hybrid wife Wanda and of course the twin hybrid boys Billy and Tommy. The four of you all felt like one big happy family.

The Sanctuary was up and running well. The public loves you and a Wanda as the spokespeople for the organization.

Overall, life was perfect. But there was a little nagging feeling at the back of Wanda’s head. It appeared every time she looked into the mirror after a shower.

Wanda didn’t think she looked as beautiful as when she met you. True she had put on a little bit of weight, not much. In fact you didn’t even notice it. But she did. Of course a person is their own worst enemy.

Natasha approached you one day in the Sanctuary’s office.

“Hey boss,” she smirked, “I need these papers signed by the end of today and Wanda needs your love”

“I love my doe. I tell her every day” you replied.

“True but I think she needs a special reminder, bud.” Natasha explains, “she needs to know that she’s still a goddess in your eyes”

You quickly sign Natasha’s papers and hurry out the door, “I’m taking the rest of the day off. Thanks Wolf Buddy!”

You took Wanda home and drew her a bath. You set out a home spa kit for her and turned down the lights in the bathroom.

“Detka,” your doe mate giggles and blushes at your display of affection.

“Just take a little you break, okay?” You topped it off with a kiss, “the boys are staying with Natasha tonight”

And with that, you gently closed the door and let Wanda have a little afternoon alone in the bathroom with some scented candles and some relaxing lavender scented bath bombs.

Meanwhile you went to work, crafting a homemade vegan meal for you and your beloved mate. You loved cooking for Wanda and the boys. It was like a hidden love of yours.

You got the vegetarian dish on the stove simmering as you heard the gentle footsteps of your doe walking down the stairs. She was wrapped in your white robe and her hair was damp. As if there was any way that your mate couldn’t look more goddess like.

She gently walked over to you and wrapped you in a hug, kissing you softly. “Thank you, detka” she whispered against your lips.

“Oh that was just part one” you smiled.

“How many parts have you planned?” Your mate giggled.

“Three, five. I lost count, my doe” you shrugged your shoulders.

The vegetarian dish you prepared went perfectly with the wine that Wanda selected. The two of you are able to talk and communicate with one another like you were on your first date again. It felt marvelous.

You both changed into your pajamas and danced together in the living room to your favorite songs.

“Detka,” she giggles as she holds to you, “this night has just been perfect”

“We’re not done yet” you gave a wink.

You led Wanda back to the couch, a little uncertain. You and your doe were always very open with each other when it came to mating.

You sat her down and knelt before her like a knight before his queen.

“Wanda, do you trust me?” You gently asked her.

“Of course I do,” she giggled.

“Okay then just lean back, relax, and let me worship you, my doe”

Wanda simply leaned back, letting herself rest against the couch. You gave a kiss to her lips, then one to her neck and then another to her collarbone.

“Detka,” your mate gently moaned. You pulled back and got back on your knees.

You kissed her lower legs and then her knees and then as far up on her thighs as you could before hitting the fabric of her pj shorts.

Wanda was practically a panting mess at this point and you had barely begun.

“Shall I continue?” You asked her, your voice a little deeper with intent.

She grabbed the strings of her shorts and undid the knot, loosening them right up for you.

“P-Please,” she begged you. You happily obliged.

First you pulled down her shorts and continued kissing your way up her legs.

Wanda’s panting breathes were all the encouragement you needed.

“I-I dreamt about this for a long time” she sheepishly moans out.

“Really?” You looked up to your goddess of a mate, “like what kind of dreams?”

“I use to touch myself to thoughts of you,” she admits, a blush making its way across her face. “And there was one spot that always made me feel good”

“Guide me,” you respond. “Please. I want you to feel as good as you make me feel”

Wanda lets out a nervous giggle. She gently takes a hold of one of your hands and guides it down between her legs. Your fingertips brush a certain little spot

Immediately Wanda tenses up, “t-there it is! M-my pearl.”

You begin touching it softly, rubbing small circles.

“H-Harder. Please” she begs. You oblige. Within seconds, your doe is a whimpering mess.

“Detka!” She moans, “(Y/N)! Oh!! Don’t stop!! Please don’t stop!!!”

You gently pull down her cotton garment and begin worshipping her even more.

Within a few mere minutes, she was gripping your shoulders, tense and shouting your name. Her eyes were shut tight as the feelings of euphoria and absolute fulfillment rushed over her entire being.

Your doe collapsed against the cushions of your couch, trying to catch her breath and smiling like a contented house cat.

“Thank you, thank you!” She was repeating thru panting breaths.

“Thank you,” you kissed her tenderly, “for letting me worship you”

She took a firm hold of your shoulder and guided you to sit on the couch.

Your amazing mate then got on her knees in front of you, her eyes were darkened with lust, love and adoration for you.

“Now let me worship you,” she said with a lustful purr. Her deer tail shaking with anticipation. “And…don’t be afraid to hold on to my antlers.” She gave you a little wink as she began unbuckling your pants.

Wanda, your wife, your mate, a graceful doe, a loving deer. The two of you can and will love and worship each other for as long as you both shall live and then long after into eternity.

Tags: @lifespectator @aloneodi @abimess @olsenmyolsen @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @multi-fandom-enjoyer

[readychilledwine]

Slow Hands

Azriel x Vanserra Oc

Azriel returns from a rough mission very sore. The typical ointments Madja uses aren't helping to relieve the tension, so the healer suggests Azriel goes to see Lyria, a pretty little healer who specializes in massage therapy.

Warnings - NSFW, but nothing is graphic. Accidental orgasm from a service. Some swearing. Unedited. Dearest minors, DNI.

Word count- 2,639

Random author's note - I just believe it should be cannon that the Vanserras give the best massages. They're literally fae heating pads/hot water bottles.

Part Two

Azriel walked beside Rhysand in silence as they made their way to the building Madja had asked Azriel to visit.

The two had not spoken since the incident with Elain, but he could tell Rhys, who had paused hand halfway up to knock on the door, wanted to tell him something.

Rhys cleared his throat. "Do you remember me coming home from the mountain and saying I decided to bring a new friend to Velaris?"

Azriel nodded, refusing to verbally break his silence to his brother, to which Rhys rolled his eyes. "This is her. She is Lucien's sister. Be. Kind. She is doing this for you as a favor to me."

Rhys knocked on the door before winnowing away, leaving Azriel standing there awkwardly. Shock set in as golden light flooded the streets. There, in the doorway, smiling gently was the mirror image of the Lady of Autumn, only shorter.

"You must be Azriel," he stared down at the pretty female, mouth going dry as he tried to figure out how to form words. "Come in. I'm Lyria, by the way." She smiled softly at him and continued walking.

Her home was warm, inviting, and comfortable. It smelled like lavender and something slightly medicinal Azriel could not place. "Rhys doesn't normally have his wings out when we do this." Azriel followed her, admiring her legs and ass in her tight leggings, as she directed him through her home. "Are you able to lay on your back?"

"I am." Azriel was studying her fully as they entered a room with a table centered in it and glass bottles lining a cabinet. Her red hair was pulled into braids and pins with a few pieces falling into loose curls. Her high cheekbones reminded Azriel very much of her mother, and her constellation of freckles lining her nose and cheeks were the only clear sign of her relation to Eris. Her golden sun kissed skin, though, that was Azriel's clear indication of who her father truly was.

All in all, he knew she was beautiful. Truly beautiful, and Azriel felt himself thinking of 100 other things he could do with her besides what Rhysand and Madja describe as a "back rub, but better."

He watched Lyria shift, clearly noting the way he was looking at her. "If you're comfortable, I just need you to take all of your clothing off and lay on that table. We will start with you on your back. Just put the towel where you want it for privacy. I can step out. Let me know when you're ready."

Azriel watched her walk out, eyes glued on her body. Rhys, the tone in his mind was slighly annoyed as he felt familiar claws enter his shields.

Azriel, A laughing purr answered back, Is she to your liking?

You're an asshole. A better warning would have been nice. Azriel slammed him out as he finished removing the leathers and siphons from his body before getting on the heated table. He sighed, shadows slowing down and stilling before opening the door and gently grabbing Lyria.

She moved silently through the room, fae lights dimming as she grabbed a few things. "Rhys said you'd prefer lotion over oil, is that accurate?" Azriel just nodded, a feeling of vulnerability sitting in.

He was naked in the presence of a female related to two males who absolutely hated him. A female who could wield fire as easily as breathing. His only comforts were the sign that she clearly thought nothing of his nakedness, and that his shadows had already told him she had no weapons in her home.

"I'm assuming they explained this to you? And let you know I'd be touching you a lot during this?" Azriel confirmed to her quietly they had. "If anything hurts, or makes you uncomfortable in any way, or you just do not like the way it feels, let me know right away. Is it okay if I start?" Consent. She wanted his consent to touch him. He nodded slowly and felt his shoulders instantly tense as she touched him.

Her hands were warm and so soft. Gently moving along the planes of his tight muscles in slow, long strokes. She was using enough pressure to map out areas of his body that were tighter than others but not being rough enough to hurt him. Azriel groaned as she found a knot near this collarbone. Her hands instantly began working in that area. "Does that feel okay?"

"It feels great." The room was filled with the sounds of water running softly, of animals in a forest. It even smelled like the Illyrian Mountains. The soft scent of magic, her magic, floated in the air as Lyria created an environment the High Lord had told her his spymaster would relax easiest in.

Azriel felt himself giving completely into her hands, melting in her touch, eyes closing. He groaned and moaned occasionally in appreciation and pleasure.

"There we go," she whispered softly. "Just relax. I'll take care of you." He felt his mind drifting as she worked down his arms, his torso, the fronts of his thighs.

Lyria was watching the Shadowsinger's little reactions to figure out where to focus, what areas she needed to work longer, and where the male held the most tension. She was also trying to ignore a growing aspect that had begun to pop up.

She worked her way back up to his shoulders, running her hands below his back, between his wings, causing another moan to leave his throat. This one, though, had her pausing. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she gently ran her hands from the spot they were in and up his neck. "I am so sorry."

Azriel chuckled slightly, eyes opening to look up at her. Her bottom lip had tucked between her teeth. She's nervous, his shadows began whispering to him. She was worried she had hurt him or he was feeling violated. "It's okay. They're sensitive, but that feels amazing."

"I can sto-"

"Please, do not stop."

Lyria nodded, her lip still tucked into her teeth. "You can roll onto your back if you'd like, and are um, able to." It was then that Azriel realized what she meant.

"Please tell me this happens all of the time?" His face was flushed as he threw an arm over it. "You have male clients, this happens all of the time right?"

Lyria was instantly giggling. The noise like soft bells in his ears making him smile and relax. "Of course. Rhys especially. Roll over. I want to use a different lotion on your back." Lyria turned away, grabbing a different glass bottle.

Azriel rolled over taking the time to admire her body again. Thinking of how pretty she'd look tied up in his shadows. She'd look pretty in any position, naked or dressed. He put his head down, trying to focus on relaxing and not his growing need to bend her over the nearest surface.

Lyria moved back to him, warming the lotion she had on her hands, "Are you okay with lotion getting in your hair? You carry a lot of tension here," Azriel shivered as she was near the lowest base of his wings. She was being careful not to touch them, but just the ghosting of her fingers near them was causing his touch starved body to react. It also didn't help that her voice was a siren spell, "through the upper part of your spine and into your scalp. I feel like I can work it all out, but I need to get the tension in your scalp out too, or you'll have headaches all the time."

"You can do whatever you want to me," Azriel felt himself tense back up at the response. He knew he meant it. He knew he'd allow his female to take what she wanted from him without hesitation.

"What a generous offer. You'll have to buy me dinner first." Lyria moved. Starting his massage again at his feet.

"Fuck," Azriel groaned. He heard her chuckle as she worked and he relaxed into her touch once more.

Discomfort hit him again as she began to work up his legs, easing the tension in his thighs. "Is this okay? You are really tight on your legs and hips." Azriel nodded at her question, groaning as she began working out knots in areas he would have never suspected. "Am I hurting you?" Gods no, he thought to himself. "Do you want me to talk to you to distract you?"

"Hearing your voice is making it worse." Azriel bit his lip to hold in a moan as she began to work the other side. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Not hurting you then. You are fine, Azriel. Just relax. It's just your body reacting. It's normal."

His name rolling off her tongue made Azriel feel like his soul was lit on fire and an ache started in his chest. He began to imagine what she'd sound like with his head between her thighs, his hands squeezing her breasts, her legs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself so deep into her they became one.

Lyria continued her work, ignoring the growing scent of his arousal as the tension in his lower back released. She then made a rookie mistake, leaning across his back to grab her lotion bottle allowing her breasts to run along his body. She said nothing as his wings fluttered and he slightly shivered. She just continued her work.

Azriel was a piece of art, she had decided. His body reminded her of expertly carved marble. Hard muscled cuts from years of training, but they yielded so easily to her touch. Small twitches began to happen as she hit his mid back just below his wings.

Her eyes flicked to where he gripped the soft sheets of the bed as she pulled a heated blanket over his lower half. "Is it too warm?" She knew the scars on his hands all too well, she was hiding her own that danced along her back.

"No, just everything feels really good." His reply was soft, but raspy and deep. She smiled softly as she continued her work, gently going around the lower base of his wings without realizing the stimulation she was causing him.

Azriel was biting his fist under the table as pleasure shot straight to his cock. His body was so relaxed and everything felt intensified. He had been craving touch like this for years now. Soft, gentle, slow. She was taking her time on his back, working out every ounce of tension, every knotted muscle, every single drop of pain he had. His body hadn't felt this good in years, and he hadn't felt relief like this since his last trip to the brothel.

Her hands were heaven on his skin. They were warm and smooth, grazing him with her nails occasionally. She smelled like heaven, too. The soft scent of apples and salted caramel. He could drown in her scent alone if she allowed him to.

He felt the groan slip his throat as she moved to be in front of him and began to work between his wings. "Tell me if you want me to stop. I don't want to hurt you."

Azriel realized slowly he was drowning. This female was about to reduce him to a puddle with the touch of her hands and that alone. He pushed the feeling down. Doing her job, a shadow reminded him.

She worked in silence, noting his soft gasps, whimpers, and moans as she worked the center of his back and sides of both wings. She was finally at the base of his shoulder blades when Azriel's resolve dropped. His hands came to rest on the backs of her thighs, squeezing the plush skin there every so often as she worked the tops of where his wings connected in.

A rough grasp on her thighs as she accidently brushed the ridge of his wing had her gasping slightly, nails digging into his back, making him growl in pleasure. "I'm sorry," she whispered again and tried to back away, only to find herself locked by his large hands.

"That was my fault," he was smirking and pulled her closer. "Please keep going. I'll behave." Lyria bit her lip, her nervous tick he noted, nodding as she went back to work.

She was focusing on working the muscle tension near his wings. She was hoping he'd be able to ignore his pleasure, but as his breathing picked up, his wings twitched, and he moaned for her more, she knew. Lyria knew what was about to happen, but anytime her hands slowed, he gripped her thighs tighter as if begging her to continue.

He was on the edge at this point. He could feel a peak of pleasure within reach as she began working his shoulders and neck. Azriel was trying to hold it in as the pleasure built, but Lyria sealed his fate.

She did a single long stroke, starting between his wings, up his neck, and gently tugged his hair.

It was his undoing as he moaned out loudly, his grip on her thighs moving so he was cupping her ass and digging his fingers into her. His body was slightly shaking, as she scratched his head and played with his hair through his high.

Lyria had her lip between her teeth again. Trying to hide the feminine smile at her ability to bring one of the deadliest males in History to completion with no more than the touch of her hand.

She moved to sit next to Azriel, dropping his right arm over her thighs as she sat next to him, continuing to massage his scalp as he finished coming down, breathing coming back to normal. Once he turned his head to her, she just smiled.

"I know a few places in Autumn you could get help with that problem," she offered gently. "Eris runs a very clean, respectable one. They have males and females. All there by choice because they like to fuck."

Azriel chuckled. "That obvious, huh?" He looked at her. Enjoying the slight flush of her cheeks as her amber eyes met his hazel ones.

"I don't normally have people finish on my table, so we're going to chalk it up to you had a lot of tension to release." She paused, hand still playing with his hair before handing him a towel. "I noticed it building as I was working in your wing bases, but you didn't ask me to stop, and if I tried to, you squeezed my thighs to prevent me from moving. Rhys just said the wings themselves were sensitive. I didn't realize it was that whole area. I am sorry if I've made you feel violated."

He took the towel, cleaning himself and the table as she looked away. He tossed it into her nearby hamper and laid back down. A shadow grabbed her hair and placed it back into his hair.

"He probably did that on purpose. Fucking asshole. I owe you dinner," he finally said. "I'd like to do this again. Hopefully without that happening. I'm hoping that was a one time thing."

Lyria nodded. "We can do the same time next week with dinner beforehand?" He nodded at her, sitting up and studying her face again. "Also, I don't mind if that happens again." She was blushing and tucked her hair behind a delicately pointed ear. "Maybe in different circumstances though."

Azriel smirked, hand reaching to gently pull at her hair, "That could be rearranged."

[draczrys]

I know Criston Cole is not who you usually write for and I know he’s not a fan favorite but could you write a Drabble or one shot of Criston Cole x Reader? I love Fabian Frankel and just wish to read something with one of his characters. Much love! 💕

brb just added him to my muse list bc mr fabian is yum & early s1 criston is bearable. and this trope!! my fave medieval theme ever. like wdym i’m not supposed to love a boy w big brown eyes

COURTLY LOVE. ❨ criston cole x reader ❩

the standing of a riverland lord's youngest daughter was nothing of note to the realm. little to inherit, a pitiful dowry, barely a suitor at the door. so, the seven must have blessed you the day queen aemma requested your presence at court. the princess was of age now, and in need of ladies in waiting of noble birth.

suddenly, the world was a different place. thrown into the deep end of the red keep, you had all the dresses you wished for and every suitor at court vying for your hand in marriage. no longer just an unknown lady, but a lady of the crown. still, there wasn't a single lord or son that caught your eye. not since you saw him.

"... ser criston cole!"

your breath had caught in your throat as the young knight shed his helmet and blinked up to the royal box, respects paid to the king before he looks to you.

"i would like to ask for your lady's favour, if she would be so kind," he spoke, voice smooth, eyes never leaving your own. if it weren't for rhaenyra's elbow in your side, you're sure you would have stared all day.

"best of luck, ser," comes your wishes, leaning over the wooden rail to drop your favour over his joust. you had spent a whole day on it, the princess on her's too, weaving daisies and lavender into a pretty ring. "i hope that you win."

"as do i," criston muses, smirking. "if it means speaking with you again, my lady."

a blush burns at your cheeks, hurrying to sit back down. you ignore rhaenyra's teasing and watch the knight mount his horse, readying himself for the competition. he knocks down lord after lord, knight after knight, even defeating prince daemon. the heat in your chest has your heart beating quicker, head somewhat hazy as you watch on in delight.

the chaos of a tourney day sweeps you up from your daydreaming, ushered behind the princess to dress her for the feast. though she speaks to you as you braid her hair, it's barely audible past the heavy thoughts of the knight in your ears. eventually, when rhaenyra is summoned to her mother, you find the time to catch your breath in an empty hallway. leaning against the cold stone, your eyes squeeze shut to urge any romantic ideas from your mind.

"my good luck charm."

the sudden voice startles you, turning quickly to ready yourself in defence. but there, only a few steps away, is your knight. for a moment, you think he's talking about you. noting your furrowed brows and slightly cocked head, he raises the favour you had gifted into view.

"ah," you breathe out, a smile growing on your lips. "i'm glad it was of use."

criston mirrors your smile, steps closing the space between you, his armour clinking as it still rests on his bones. his arm reaches out, offering the flowered ring back to you. "it is custom the knight returns the favour to the lady, if they have survived."

glancing at the branches and petals your hands had tirelessly woven, then back to the warm eyes that watch you so carefully, that strange feeling creeps back into your chest. you shake your head.

"keep it," you urge, cheeks rounding. "perhaps it will bring you luck again."

cole's brows raise, interest obviously piqued at your suggestion. his smile turns crooked, eyes sparkling with a life you'd only seen outside of the walls of the keep.

"and will you be present, again? in case it is you, and not the favour, that has blessed me." his tongue is playful and teasing, but his eyes hold a sincerity you daren't question.

"i cannot promise my presence to be so virtuous." you giggle breathily, eyes darting to the ground for a moment to spare yourself the dizziness that comes from his gaze. "and i should--"

"a kiss then."

the blunt but hopeful proposition snaps your eyes back to him, unsure of whether to be more shocked, offended or delighted. criston smirks, obviously enjoying your surprise. "as a precaution, of course."

stomach jumping with nerves, heart dancing with excitement, you watch his eyes carefully in an attempt to gauge whether he was taunting you or not. but no, still only genuine.

shuffling forward, close enough now, you slowly stretch upwards onto your tiptoes. eyes locked, your lips journeying closer to his cheek - slightly stubbled, but littered with freckles. they barely brush his skin before he turns his head, quicker than you can notice, replacing his cheek with his lips.

the surprise that overtakes you is quickly subdued by the sweet taste of his kiss. his lips soft, just relishing in yours. not desperate or rough as you had seen with older lords and ladies, but delicate and kind. he only parts when he feels you swoon a little in his arms, smiling against the aftertaste of the kiss. breathless, you look at each other, caught up in the warmth between you.

"my lady," criston murmurs, stepping back from your space when he hears the distant patter of feet. bowing at the waist, his eyes still linger on your own. "until next time."

[ladywhistlewrites]

chapter 1: The very first morning

As the fresh morning air made its way into her room, caressing her skin, the young lady Y/N was fast out of bed, pacing around her chamber. This was the day. This was the day her parents had prepared her for so diligently, the day she had prepared for so fervently. At noon, she would be officially introduced to society as an eligible young lady. Eligible for marriage, of course.

She swiftly looked at herself in the mirror of her nightstand, almost seeking something in her own reflection. “There must be a way to escape Her Majesty today,” she thought as she started combing her hair with her fingers. Was marriage truly a woman’s only calling? Was playing the piano, singing, and being a polite, flawless young lady all that life held for her? These thoughts roamed in her young mind ever since she was a child.

Surely, a woman should marry and have children if she wished so, but what if she wished for something else? What if she wished to go off to Oxford as her brothers did? Y/N was torn between what her parents wished, almost demanded, for her life and what she desired.

As she was lost in her thoughts, a soft knock came from her door. “Good morning, miss,” a giddy voice said. Y/N turned around and found Miss Olive’s smiling face. “Good morning, Olive,” she said with a smile. Miss Olive was a young girl herself, no more than six-and-twenty years of age, with a kind face and lively eyes. She had become Y/N’s lady’s maid quite recently, but she had shown herself to be a true confidant many times, as well as a very good maid indeed.

“Are you excited for today, Miss Y/N?” Olive asked, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

Y/N gave a small laugh. “Excited? Perhaps nervous is a better word. I am to be paraded in front of all of London society and judged suitable or not for marriage by the Queen herself. How could one be anything but nervous?”

Olive’s smile softened with understanding. “You will do wonderfully, miss. You have a grace and charm about you that no one can deny. Besides, this is just the beginning. Who knows what the season holds?”

Y/N appreciated Olive’s optimism but could not shake off the feeling of apprehension. She had seen how the season could make or break a young lady’s prospects. It was a game, a matchmaking game, and she was expected to play her part. But Y/N had always wondered if she could be more than just a pawn. Could she be the protagonist of her own story, taking the reins of her own destiny? Or perhaps she would breathe the air of libertinism and embrace the changing times?

As the morning progressed, Y/N was dressed in her finest gown, a delicate creation of lavender silk with lace trim that complemented her fair complexion. Her hair was styled in an intricate updo, adorned with tiny pearls that caught the light. She looked every bit the baroness she was born to be, yet her heart yearned for something more.

“Miss Y/N,” Olive said softly as she adjusted the final pin in her hair, “remember that today is just the beginning. You have the power to shape your own destiny. Do not let anyone dictate your path.”

Y/N looked at her maid and confidante with gratitude. “Thank you, Olive. I will try to remember that.”

With a deep breath, Y/N descended the grand staircase of her family’s townhouse, where her parents awaited her. Her father, a stern yet proud man, gave her an approving nod. Her mother, ever the epitome of grace, took her hand and squeezed it gently. “You look beautiful, my dear. Today, you will captivate the Queen and all of London.”

Y/N smiled, though it felt more like a mask. “Thank you, Mother.”

As they made their way to the carriage that would take them to Buckingham House, Y/N felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with dread. This was her moment, the beginning of her season.

The bustling streets of London passed by in a blur as Y/N contemplated her future. The carriage came to a halt, and she was helped down by a footman. The grand entrance of Buckingham House loomed before her, a symbol of the society she was about to enter.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped forward, ready to face whatever the day would bring. This was her debut, her introduction to the world. And in that moment, she resolved that no matter what happened, she would remain true to herself.

As the grand doors opened and the sound of polite conversation and laughter filled her ears, Y/N lifted her chin and entered the hall. The eyes of the elite were upon her, and somewhere in the crowd, the Queen awaited her presence.

Would she captivate the Queen with her kindness, wit, and grace? Only time would tell. But one thing was certain: Y/N was determined to make this season her own, to write her own story, and to find her own path in a world that expected her to conform.

With every step she took, Y/N felt a growing sense of empowerment. This was her season, her story, and she would make it unforgettable.

******

author’s note:

first chapter officially out!! see you next Friday!

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

We Got That Love, The Crazy Kind

Mattheo Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2153

Warnings: Suggestive, fluff, mild language, torture, blood…

Prompt: Mattheo is awkward about showing affection to you in public, so you both are in a bit of an argument. However, Lavendar has a crush on Mattheo and you’ve had enough. Oliver decides to flirt with you and Mattheo wasn’t having it.

*Y/N’s POV*

“How long are you and Mattheo going to keep up this silent treatment?” Pansy asks, the both of us walking towards the courtyard.

“Until he can start treating me like I’m his girlfriend. I’m tired of the way he treats me in public. It’s like…he’s embarrassed of me.” I say, shaking my head upset.

I saw that he was sitting by a tree with Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zambini, Draco Malfoy, and Theodore Nott. Our friends, however since this whole argument with Mattheo and I started, I’ve been sitting elsewhere with Pansy.

She didn’t have to sit with me, but she was a good friend even though I knew how close she was with the guys. Not to mention, Draco is her boyfriend. Yet, she decides to sit with me so I won’t be alone.

“I heard he broke up with her.” I hear.

“Yeah. They did. Because he couldn’t get enough of me. Mattheo…he’s good.” Lavender says.

“Whatever you do, and whatever your thinking, don’t do it.” Pansy pleads, but I stand as she curses.

I start walking towards the table she sat at with her friends as Pansy started to speed walk towards the tree where the guys were. I grabbed Lavendar by her hair and she cries out in pain. I drag her off the bench and let her fall to the ground. I wait until she stands up, glaring at me. I lunge at her, pinning her to the wall as I punch her repeatedly.

All I saw was red.

I’ve heard girls talk about Mattheo, but typically they stop when they see the glare I give them. Lavender doesn’t know when to stop.

“I don’t know what your obsession with my boyfriend is, but I’ve had it.” I snap breathlessly between punches.

“Ms. Y/L/N, enough.” Umbridge warns.

I ignore her when I see her pull her wand out. She points it at me.

“Petrificus Totalus!” She shouts, but I pulled my wand free, pointing it in the direction of her and shout, “Protego!”

She gasps, seeming shocked I would fight a spell. I let Lavendar fall to the ground as her friends rush towards her. I look at Umbridge who looked red in the face and was ready to fire another spell off at me.

“Expelliarmus!” I shout.

Her wand goes flying away from her and I storm out of the courtyard, heading towards the Slytherin dorms. I get to mine, slamming the door shut and locking it before going to my bathroom. I close the door, locking it as I look at myself in the mirror.

What have I done?

I’m suppose to mad at him, yet I can’t ignore what Lavendar says…he wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t be with someone else…right? No…that’s…that’s not my Mattheo.

Who said he was still your Mattheo?

I shake my head, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. I turn the water on and watch the water turn a red-pink color as it washes away Lavendar’s and I’s blood. I grab my wand, pointing at one hand.

“Episkey.” I whisper.

I watch the hand heal before I grab my wand and point it at my other hand, doing the same. I look at myself in the mirror. Who have I become?

I was forced to stand at the front of the class and receive my punishment from Umbridge. She grabs her chair and makes me sit.

“You’ll be punished for the fight you started and then you’ll be punished for ignoring orders from a Professor.” She says.

She gave me a notepad and a quill. I was very aware of what this meant.

“How many lines?” I ask.

“I’ll let you know when it’s finished. I want you to write, “I will not disobey orders”, understood?” She asks.

“Understood.” I say shortly.

I clench my jaw, starting to write my lines as if it didn’t bother me. I ignored the stinging at the back of my eyes and focused on the quill in hand as she taught away. I take in a slow deep breath before letting it out. Blood dripped down my hand and was dripping to the floor. My hands shook slightly, but I continued to do as asked.

“Alright. Good. It’s been half the class. How’s your hand?” She asks.

“Peachy.” I say bluntly, looking up at her with a blank stare.

“Is this you talking back?” She asks.

“You’d know if I was talking back. What next?” I ask.

“I don’t think your punishment is working,” she says as she pulls her wand out, “imperio.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

“Take the quill, write on your arm. Write mudblood. Until I say stop.” She says.

“You can’t do this!” Mattheo snaps.

“It’s against the rules.” Harry adds, looking quite frightened.

I grimace as I bring the quill to my arm and it digs into it as I write the saying I’ve heard all across my life. I close my eyes, my hand moving and continuously writing “mudblood” into my arm, going deeper each time.

“Mr. Riddle, Mr. Potter, enough. I can punish my students how I like. Maybe this will teach her a lesson.” She says, before going back to teaching.

I opened my eyes, looking at the word that was carved into my arm. A word that haunts me far too much. Maybe that’s why Mattheo is so embarrassed of me. I’m a mudblood. That is who I will always be.

“Alright Ms. Y/L/N, you can stop.” She says and I felt a weight lifted off me.

I throw the quill and pad of paper in her direction as I stand, walking out of the room as I ignore her calls. I get to the Slytherin dorms and Snape stops me.

“It’ll scar, but let me heal it.” He says.

“It’s fine.” I mutter.

He grabs my arm with a sigh, using his wand to heal it. I nod before walking away towards my dorm where I close the door and lock it.

I pull my shirt off and pull on a long-sleeve, wanting to hide that horrid word before I lay on my bed. I hear a knock on my door, but I ignore it.

“It’s me.” Pansy says.

I stay quiet, staring at the wall. She sighs, knocking again.

“Let me in. Let us in. We want to make sure your okay. That wasn’t okay of Umbridge to do. That was…torture.” She says.

“I’m okay. I want to be alone, so leave me alone.” I say calmly, fighting my turmoil of emotions.

I couldn’t avoid them forever. I avoided them for a good two weeks, by holing myself up in my dorm. Snape brought me my work, but he said I had to return to my classes today.

I was dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. I never wore long-sleeves, but I couldn’t get that horrid word off my arm.

I put my hair up in a messy bun, looking at myself in the mirror blankly. I’ve gotten paler over the past two weeks which could be from not eating like I normally should. I had bags under my eyes and my eyes in general just looked tired.

I grab my bag and wand before I began to head towards Umbridge’s class. I walk in and she looks at me surprised.

“And I thought you left Hogwarts.” She mocks.

“And I wish someone Avada Kedavra’d you. Yet, your still here.” I say tiredly, going to my empty seat at the back of the class.

“Do we need to repeat your punishment?” She asks.

“Go on with teaching. Your punishment did nothing the first time and I doubt it would do anything this time.” I snap.

“And detention, Potter. I said, Cedric’s death was a tragic accident.” She says, turning her focus on him.

“Like your birth?” I ask annoyed.

“Y/n, enough.” Mattheo’s whispers harshly.

“Y/L/N, leave my classroom now. I’ve had enough.” She says calmly.

“Gladly.” I say, standing to gather my stuff as she starts to lecture me.

“Umbitch. Lecturing me, and shouting at me, and telling me to hurry up isn’t going to get me to move faster. You should’ve been killed months ago cause you are such a pain in the ass. How did you end up here? Honestly because you are pretty fucked up,” I say, laughing before looking at her, “and you don’t own me.”

I walk out of the room as Draco whistles.

“Damn.” Mattheo mutters.

I was in the courtyard working on my studies as everyone else finally filed out. I was sitting at the table Pansy and I had been occupying before I holed myself up in my room. Pansy and the guys join us.

“Hey, how are you?” Pansy asks softly.

“I don’t need pity and treated like I’m so broken glass doll.” I say, flipping the page of my textbook.

“We are your friends. We care about you.” She says.

“Well care less.” I say annoyed.

“Snape said it scarred.” She says.

“And if it did?” I ask.

“I know how much you hate that word. Your a powerful witch though. Better than Granger. Let me see it.” She says.

“Y/N.” Oliver says.

“Yes, Oliver?” I ask, looking up.

“Can we talk…alone?” He asks.

My eyebrows furrow, but I nod slowly. I follow him towards a tree that wasn’t occupied, away from everyone. My eyes flicker to my table to see that they kept glancing over and Mattheo was watching intently. I didn’t miss the look of jealously.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” He asks.

“Your pathetic, Oliver! You called me over here, to ask me out when you know I have boyfriend!” I exclaim, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t have to know. And he acts like you both aren’t together anyway. I can treat you better.” He says.

“In your wildest dreams, Wood. Get away.” I snap, going to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.

I pull my arm free, backing myself up against a tree as he steps forward. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face that must’ve fallen out from the bun.

“It’s always been you, Y/L/N. Mattheo doesn’t have to know about this. You and I…we’d be a better couple. I could treat you better.” He says.

“You’re a real piece of work, Wood. I love Mattheo, even if he doesn’t show his feelings towards me in public, I love him. Nothing will happen between you and me. Now, let me go.” I snap.

*Mattheo’s POV*

“I think Oliver is flirting with her.” Draco says.

I watch her and could tell she was uncomfortable. She seems upset after whatever he says and was glaring at him. She goes to walk past him, but he grabs her arm and I clench my jaw.

“Don’t do it man.” Theo warns.

“Ah shit. He’s backed her up against the tree and is going in for a kiss.” Lorenzo says.

I get up, storming towards the two of them and I push Oliver down to the ground as Pansy pulls Y/N into a hug.

“Okay, motherfucker now you got my attention.” I say, grinning as I start throwing punches at him.

“Not again.” Lorenzo sighs.

“Mattheo! Come on man! Stop! Umbridge will flip!” Draco snaps.

He and Lorenzo were trying to pull me off of Oliver, but all I saw was red. He touched her and he knew she is mine.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again! She’s mine, Wood! Next time I’ll kill you!” I snap.

“Mattheo…please.” She whispers.

I freeze, before looking over my shoulder to see that Pansy and Theodore were holding her back from coming to me. I’ll thank them for that later. Oliver hits me, and I turn back to him and hit him again before getting up.

I walk to her, pulling her towards me. She looks up at me with watery eyes. I lose a hand in her hair, messing up the bun. I pull her closer to me as I lean down and kiss her roughly.

Her hands rest on my chest as she kisses me back. I pull away, resting my head against her forehead as I look into her gorgeous (your eye color) eyes.

“I love you.” She says softly.

“Your mine.” I snap.

“I’m yours.” She says, smiling slightly.

I pull away before throwing her over my shoulder. She gasps, hitting my back as she snaps at me to put her down.

“Not happening. I’ll put you down when we get to my dorm.” I say and her cheeks flush as Draco “ooohs”.

“Mattheo!” She exclaims embarrassed.

“They got that love.” Lorenzo chuckles.

“Yeah, the crazy kind.” Pansy teases.

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (8) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous part / next part

prequel

4.6k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, manipulation of someone's feelings, drinking away problems, mental illness, mentions of suicidal ideations, savior complex Finnick and reader, codependent relationship, allusions to trafficking and forced sexualization of body, mentions of death/violence happening to children, unedited, no use of y/n, arguments, self-hate, self-doubt, a love triangle that really isn't a love triangle

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Oh, you look so beautiful." Cambrie was crying, actually crying. Standing behind you in the mirror, staring the the gorgeous dress she'd designed. You wanted to cry too because even if she'd always treated you more like a doll than a living, breathing person it did hurt to know you'd never see her familiar presence again. 

“You did an amazing job, Cambrie, it reminds me of home." Truthfully the dresses shimmery deep blue did make you think of the waters of home and the seaweed and pearl based jewelry was a nice touch. Of course it was a too low cut for your liking and regardless of the colors would be completely translucent if the light hit it right, it was stunning.

“You really think so?" Her eyes were full of tears and you nodded your head turning to hug her.

“Yes, thank you." It pained you too think about how even if she never treated you fully human she would still be deeply hurt by your death. Her favorite muse.

“I don't know who I'm going to model my designs off of anymore, unless you come back or course, but you make it so easy." Of course she had ulterior motives, but it was somewhat amusing to hear her problems when yours were so much more lethal. She pulled away from you, “I wanted to go more bridal, but President Snow wanted Katniss wearing her wedding dress, so we're going to go for the more subtle route.”

It wasn't subtle in the slightest, a similarly shimmering, translucent veil was in your hair although not covering your face and adorned with sea thrift. Your arms had bouquet-like bracelets of yarrow, lavender, and sea oats from your shoulders down to your wrists. Then there were the sandals covered in pearls and seashells, if it hadn't been purposefully forced to be more sensual you would have genuinely loved it. More of a “natural" makeup look had been preferred to create the essence of more of a sweet mermaid than a sultry, seductive siren.

Suddenly you could feel the tears threatening to pour over, “I wish you would have been able to just design my wedding dress with normal circumstances. Thank you for this.” 

"Oh you're such a sweetheart, I can't fathom how they could do this again to such a sweet girl. Everyone loves you, there's so much outrage. You'll certainly have lots of sponsors.” She cupped your face, shaking her head sadly. "We'd best be on our way.” She sighed, leading you out of the room for the last time.

There all the tributes stood waiting in their line, Katniss was already waiting in her wedding gown. She caught you staring at the dress, "Snow made me wear it.” 

"Make him pay for it.” Johanna remarked ok the side, in another one of the tree related get ups her designer has such an attachment too. She looked you up and down,"Even in death they just can't leave you alone?” It was true, you were basically naked if people were staring at the way the colors caught the light.

“Just making sure to squeeze out every last drop before I go." One last glance at the body they'd controlled before you took it back forever. Johanna scoffed.

“Make him pay for that too." You took your place in the line next to Finnick, whose shirt was heavily unbuttoned.

“Is this our own wedding get-up?" He asked, arm sliding around your waist. You hummed a yes as you pecked at his lips.

“Do you like it?" You asked, hand playing with his sleeve.

“You look stunning. Do you like it, would it be your top contender when I finally get you that real dress?" He asked, a loving grin adorning his face. 

“Maybe, if it wasn't so see-through. Reminds me of home though.” Finnick nodded in agreement.

“Look like you came straight from the moonlit waters, angel." You rested into his warm arms which were a godsend when the fabric did even less to protect you from the chill in the air. Cashmere and Gloss both proclaimed how difficult it would be to let go of their friends from the Capitol. How they were all like brothers and sisters to them, trying to further manipulate the audience's feelings into somehow getting them to prevent the games. Snow would never let that happen, but taking a shot at it couldn't hurt. Enobaria and Brutus both acted like it was a normal game, with just as much intensity as they had the first round. Wiress was rambling on and on, sometimes coherently, but the audience simply laughed like it were some huge joke about how unstable she was. Beetee’s rationalization took hold, talking about all he had done, all he'd offered to the Capitol, and questioned how legal this type of Quarter Quell was, couldn't it just be unwritten since it would have such a negative effect? Finnick rubbed circles on your arm as you nervously tapped your foot. “You've got this, my love." He reassured you as you were lead to wait off stage.

“Our very own Capitol Princess!” Caesar Flickerman’s voice blared and you put on your most charming smile to enter as he said your name. Waving at the audience, blowing kisses. The cheering soon calmed down and he turned to look at you, “Now, I think we're all a little bit upset with you and your husband. Aren't we?" The audience gave out enthusiastics agreements. 

“I'm sorry!" You giggled, breathily. “We didn't want to take away attention from the star-crossed lovers."

“Oh we have enough love for the both of you!" The audience cheered in agreement.

You looked out at the crowd, “And we love you! It breaks my heart to know we won't get to share our journey with you." The tears that wanted to spill about other things you willed to appear now.

“So a secret marriage? How did that come about?" Caesar asked after the ooh’s and aww’s had quieted.

“We just knew that if we were going to die in the arena, we needed to be one with each other, and the waters." The first tears began to roll, “Now that we know we can't ever again have those moments. Especially to share them all with you." You could vaguely see tears on obscured faces and you knew it was working. "We'd been quietly planning how we'd get engaged in front of all of you, but when the Quarter Quell announcement came it just couldn't wait. So now we can't do the dress, and the wedding, and the house decorating, and the kids with all of you.” Wiping away the tears falling down.

"We'll certainly mourn that just as much, won't we?” The crowd boomed with agreement and cries. "One more thing, last time you were here you were also going into the arena with a romance, now it's happening all over again, does that add to the emotions we’re feeling tonight? The idea that if you win you'll have lost another love?”

Your tears glistened under the lights as you nodded, "All I have to say about that Caesar is that I have no intentions of leaving that arena if I can't be with him. We are one and I couldn't bear to live my life without knowing I'd see him everyday. This hurts so bad because I know it'll be my last time seeing all of your kind faces.” By now the audience was sobbing and suddenly the tears began feeling real, creeping up on you.

Caesar nodded solemnly, “And we'll be sorry to see you go. Ever romantic, our Capitol Princess!" Tears were blinding you and it was difficult to find your way to the pedestals where the other tributes were standing. Suddenly your face was being held and honey tasting lips were on yours, Finnick. You could hear the audience cooing and crying, he wiped the tears once he pulled away and led you to where you needed to stand.

"Sorry, Ceaser I couldn't help myself." His warm voice filled the room, his gorgeous smile being zoomed in on by the cameras.

“Oh no worries! Making ever the entrance, Capitol darling Finnick Odair!" The audience let out a resounding cheer for him. “Finnick, can I be honest?"

“Of course, Caesar." That gorgeous, sunshine smile rested on his face and it was no wonder it left the Capitol citizens swooning for more.

“I don't know what we're going to do if you don't come back. Right?” The audience loudly agreed and Finnick chuckled. "I mean you've been such a favorite, both of you have, and the world will not be the same without it.” How ironic, if it would be so painful then they really should make more of an effort to put a stop to it, but they wouldn't.

"I'm very sorry about that Ceaser, but my hands are tied. If we could, we would spend every moment with all of you, we're so grateful for your love.” A bold-faced lie, every party to keep up appearances, each call from the Capitol was far more draining then just spending a peaceful day together which could be endless.

“We wish you could too. Being married in the arena, how's that going to work? I mean we've heard from her that there's no grand plan for her to come back, but I assume as the husband you might have something to say about that?" This elicited a laugh from the audience and Finnick nodded.

“Well certainly, Caesar, what kind of husband would I be if I let her have her way in that? I will say, my love, you have my heart for all eternity, and if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.” You were sick, honestly nauseated with grief. This was so unfair, you'd tried not to think about it, but in just over 12 hours you'd be forced back into the arena and risk losing each other.

"We wish you the best luck with that." People were weeping in the audience and Finnick's face had become so sober that it was jarring how naturally it fell back into an easy smile. “That's Finnick Odair, Capitol darling." Soon he was right beside you on the podium, kissing you again for the audience to be giddy with joy, but also hearts ruptured for the lovers torn apart for only the first time of the night. You could taste your salty tears mixing with the honeycomb of his lips before he pulled away, giving another grin to the audience.

His hand stayed intertwined with yours, but something wasn't quite right about his demeanor. Even if physically he kept up the same presence as always you could feel the shift in his aura, in his touch. He was upset, but not in the way you were. You couldn't stop yourself from continually glancing over at him, silently trying to get his attention so you could see what was wrong. Squeezing his hand with yours to try and get a response when he finally did meet your eyes it hit you that the look was disappointment, dread and when you shot a quizzical look back he looked like he was going to cry as he put his focus back on the stage.

You were stuck in your own head no, had it been something you said? Did? It was all for the performance which he had to know. Your foot was tapping and you were zoning out of the interviews until all the sudden the audience was shrieking. Katniss’ wedding dress disappeared in clouds of black smoke and when they disappeared the dress had transformed. Upon lifting her arms you could see what it was, a mockingjay. A public symbol of the rebellion, Caesar was trying to cover, but the cameras already would have caught it.

One more interview before the night would be over and you'd wait to be shipped back off to the arena where certain death awaited you. Charming Peeta insisted that he and Katniss too had a secret wedding to have the traditions of District 12. The audience ate each crumb he gave right out of his hands when suddenly he made the world stop, “If it weren't for the baby." Shock, outrage filled the room. All of these people who'd been fine watching children fight to the death and suffer after they won for personal entertainment couldn't stand the fact that Katniss could be pregnant. The irony of it all, how smart Peeta had been on his feet made it hard for you to suppress the smile. As Caesar desperately tried to do damage control once again you noticed how everyone of the tribute's hands began linking, placing your free hand in Beetee’s who bobbed his head before holding Wiress’. Hands joined, you lifted them above your head increasing the audience's screams and Caesar was yelling for lights to be turned off, all this did was illuminate your figures in the low lights. 

Then you were being filed off of the pedestals and to the hallway. You instantly met eyes with Haymitch, holding some glass filled with some type of drink. You didn't say a word to him before taking it from his hand to take a drink. 

“Dealing with pre-game jitters with alcohol really seems like a great idea." He said sardonically, scoffing. He didn't try and grab the drink back though even when you scowled at him. Right when you'd taken another drink of the bubbly liquid it was Finnick who took the drink from your hand, handing it back to Haymitch. "What? Trouble in paradise?” He took a drink too.

“Just need you to be rational instead of hungover in the morning.” Finnick muttered, he was angry at something, that much was obvious. 

Haymitch took something off of his wrist and handed it to Finnick, “Show her this and she'll realize I gave it to you, since she won't ally with you of her own accord." It was a gold bangle and Finnick nodded as he slid it on his wrist. They were whispering something to each other and you pulled away to an Avox holding a tray of more bubbly drinks nearby. Grabbing one you nodded a thank you, swallowing it down as fast as you could before Finnick had grabbed it again, looking at you sternly.

“I'm not going to be hungover.” You rolled your eyes and he handed the second, nearly empty glass to Haymitch as well.

"Well you don't exactly make great decisions for yourself.” You rolled your eyes at him as he ran his fingers through his curls.

"What's your problem? I made them sympathetic, I did what I was supposed to!” You couldn't fathom why that would upset him, it was a performance and he did the same thing.

"You have a death wish, that's the problem, I'm not letting you die for me!” You stared into his gorgeous sea-green eyes and scoffed before turning around to walk straight back to your floor.

"Thank you, Haymitch.” You heard Finnick say before he was following you to the elevator.

"You're really gonna argue with me about what I said in the interview right before we head back into the arena?" You pressed the cold buttons before crossing your arms, refusing to look at him.

“When this started I begged you to talk to me, to stop punishing yourself for whatever you did six years ago to survive, but you still are. You didn't say anything until right before we headed back into the arena, informing the world all about how you plan to die in there.” The elevator opened and he stepped in as you followed.

“I don't plan too, I just expect it. I'm not going to keep going if you die."

“Yes, you are, Annie needs you, Mags needs you." He pointed to the bangle quickly to put off anyone who could be listening in, “Needs you. This insistence that you're going to die is ridiculous, angel, I'm not going to let you.”

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You stood backstage with Conway, having to consciously force your leg to stay still, to not keep tapping as you waited to do on stage. The air was chilly which wasn't helped by the thin material of your dress, it's low-cut, or the huge slit in it's side at least Conway got to be in a suit. Your eyes were glued to the screen where the male tribute from District 3 had just begun his interview.

“Now, how old are you?" Caesar asked, the boy was small, he couldn't be that old, it looked like the seat was going to swallow him whole.

“Thirteen." His voice was shaky and your ears started ringing. How were you supposed to do this, that was a child, a tiny kid whose family was sitting back home watching their baby boy be shipped off to certain death. You could feel the tears approaching and your breathing getting more shallow. Cold hands were suddenly on yours.

“Are you okay?" Conway asked, as you began to hyperventilate.

“I can't do this." You whispered out as the first tears began falling, “That's a little boy, I can't-"

“I get it." Conway reassured, his big, brown eyes trying to comfort you. “You've got this though, you can't do anything about him being here, but you can make a good impression with the audience. We have to focus on that no matter how screwed up you feel like it is. Go up there and do what you have to do.” What you have to do, charm them, be sweet, and pretty, but a little mysterious. Finnick had all types of angles for you. You gave a final look back at Conway who tried to give a reassuring smile, but you could tell he was bothered too. Caesar's booming voice called your name and you stepped out into the bright lights of the stage. Beaming for the audience, waving, giggling at their cheers.

“I have to say, everyone was blown away with how charming you seemed at the tribute parade, but then that training score came out. How did you do that?" Caesar asked as the two of you sat down, the audience murmuring in agreement. 

“Well, Caesar, a lady has to have some secrets for herself." You made your laugh airy and winked at the laughing audience. “I have to save some things for the show, don't I?"

Caesar nodded, laughing along. "Of course! You know when I saw your face at the reaping I couldn't help but feel like I recognized you from somewhere, did anyone else feel that way?” The audience cheered out agreements and your stomach knotted. What was he talking about? You certainly didn't know how they knew you. "I mean this was literally keeping me up at night.”

You leaned forward, the dress putting a little too much on display, but you persisted. "Well do tell.”

"Months ago we were doing a catch up piece of Finnick Odair and you were in some of it, very briefly, but you were.” The audience was wild, they adored Finnick and loved any type of connection. Your stomach clenched, how were you supposed to seem in love with Conway when this was being chosen for you.

You blushed, “Oh yes, Caesar! I didn't imagine anyone would remember that!" 

"Well we did and we love it!” He proclaimed and the audience agreed. "So tell me, just between us-” The audience laughed and you did too. "Are you and a certain victor pining for your return to tell us all some very exciting news?” You shook your head slowly, trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt. “No? I don't believe that, look at you, charming and obviously extremely talented. There was definitely something going on when that program came out, not anymore?" Time was running out and this was not going the way you planned.

So new plan, “No, Ceasar.” Your voice was light and sounded shaky on purpose. You shook your head.

"Oh, so this is a tale of heartbreak?” He asked and the audience cooed. "Well if you win, he'll have to take you back won't he? I'm sure we won't let up until he does!” He laughed and the crowd seemed to agree with him. 

“I'm afraid it's much more complicated than that." You smoothed out your dress even if it needed no smoothing.

"Oh! Is there another man as well, we live for the drama!” You nodded slowly.

"Yes and I'm afraid winning won't help me in either case.” You were alluding and there was only a few seconds left. Caesar stood up.

"Well now you have to win this thing, so we can all know about this tale of romance. It's going to be keeping me on the edge of my seat!" 

“And I'd love to share it with all of you." You let a few tears fall as you blew a kiss out to the audience who adored it. The two of you bowed as you walked off the stage. Heart pounding rapidly as you were escorted out to the hall where Finnick, Ondine, and your designer Cambrie stood.

“Oh you looked divine!" Cambrie announced, hands on your shoulders. “All of my friends are going to want to sponsor you, I'm certain you'll be the talk of Panem, leaving us on a cliffhanger like that!" She was basically shrieking in joy when she got distracted by some hors d'oeuvres an Avox was holding.

You buried your head in your hands as Finnick approached, “I didn't know they were going to side swipe you like that. It could be good for your image though." You were now hyper aware of the eyes on the both of you even if technically he was your mentor just giving you advice.

“Could be bad for that, unless he picked up what I was putting down." You pointed at the screen where Conway sat with Caesar.

“So Conway, I'm sure all of us were very impressed by your training score, a big, strong man like you, what's your strategy?" Caesar asked and the audience made comments under their breath, acting as if they were also part of the conversation. 

“Let's just say I know what I'm up against and am confident in the people I've decided to trust." Looking at him made you see flashes of your childhood, of him crabbing with your family as kids, hair billowing in the wind as he made sure you didn't slip on the water covering the boat’s deck.

Caesar nodded, “Well alright, making us wait for tomorrow as well?"

Conway smiled that kind, loving smile he gave everyone, “I guess you could say that.”

"Now everyone is dying to know if you have a special girl back home, I mean you’re a good looking guy and even girls in the Capitol are swooning.”

"Well, it's a lot more complicated than that, Caesar.” Conway and his boyish charm was sure to bring in more sponsors as well. Caesar took a second, looking at Conway and the audience with as much drama as he could, like he was slowly connecting the dots.

“You're not saying what I think you're saying are you?" He asked and the crowd screamed in agreement, eating it up.

Conway adjusted his shirt collar, “Regretfully, I might be."

“Well isn't this straight out of a fairytale." A dark, corrupted one if that. “That sure complicates things doesn't it?"

Conway nodded, “Yes."

“You're certainly going to be keeping all of us on our toes, a love triangle. Well I certainly wish you the best of luck in your endeavors." Caesar laughed. What luck? Only one ‘choice’ would be alive if you won.

“Thank you, Caesar. All I can say is even if it's doomed, hopefully she doesn't pick the one who already broke her heart.” Even if it wasn't meant that way to you it felt threatening, hopefully you didn't or he'd be forced to kill you? You honestly had no idea what the best outcome was, maybe him asking you to take care of his family before sacrificing himself? But now you were overtly aware that you not only had him observing you, but all of Panem desperately wanting to know where you would land. 

            𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were laying on the bed, hands covering your face as Finnick went on and on about how self-destructive you were. Maybe he was right, but you didn't see why it mattered. It's not like you were going to do anything intentional, you'd just do what you could to get Katniss out of the arena alive and be with Finnick.

“How are we supposed to do this if you don't believe you can survive?” He was pacing the room,"The moment that gong rings you need to come find me, I need my eyes on you.”

"I will, Finnick! But you need to focus on other things too.” You defended, sighing.

"How am I supposed to do that when the person I love the most is a danger to herself?” He stopped moving for a moment to stare at you, even with your face hidden in your hands you could feel his eyes burning into you.

You finally moved your hands,"I'm not! I just want to go to sleep, Finnick, can't we just rest?"

“We can sleep when I can rest well knowing you're not going to make impulsive decisions or give up if I get hurt. Don't be dependent on my life, angel, you deserve to live." You stood up only to walk to the open bathroom door and begin removing your makeup. 

“I don't know what you want me to say, Finnick." He followed you and stood behind you watching you in the mirror. You were passive to his pleas, you couldn't understand why it mattered so much to him. If he died it's not like he would know if you did too and if he lived there were plenty of other women who would be glad to comfort him, plus the revolution would keep him distracted.

There was a pause as you continued with your routine before he removed the bottle from your hands and turned you to face him, he'd always been much stronger than you and there was no use trying to release yourself. 

“That your life matters to you just as much as it does to me and I want you to believe it when you say it."

You sighed, “Finnick I will do whatever you tell me to do, I'll stay right by your side if you want me too. All I want is to be with you, that's all that matters to me."

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, “I can't believe I let us get so codependent." You watched a tear make its way down his cheek and felt you swarmed with guilt. “I can't make this better overnight no matter how badly I want to, but I do want you by me every second in that arena. Don't you dare go sacrificing yourself for someone, anyone. Angel, I can't live without you either.” His warm arms brought you to him, caught in his embrace as the guilt overwhelmed the numbness. "We're both getting out of there alive, no matter what it takes.” He whispered and although your brain told you not to believe him, to accept your fate you would trust him to the grave so you nodded your head into his shoulder. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading and all the support I've been receiving, I love you all so much and am glad you're enjoying my little thoughts. next chapter we can finally get into the games of it all, not gonna like this chapter was a lot of fun to write but took forever because I was having too many thoughts. if you enjoyed it feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated. my inbox is always open! I love you all, thank you again! 💋

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[chimielie]

cw f!reader , mild fraternal violence , atsumu’s terrible lying skills

“I know something you don’t know,” Osamu singsongs, standing in the doorway of their shared bathroom and peering over his brother’s shoulder at his reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah?” Atsumu grunts, yanking a comb through his hair and glaring back at his twin. “Spit it out, shitty ‘Samu. I got places to be, you know?”

“Ouch, don’t shoot the messenger,” Osamu drawls, leaning against the doorframe. “I know that you have a date tonight and you think you’re being sneaky about it.”

“Do not,” Atsumu scowls immediately, dropping the comb and turning around, because he is the worst liar ever. “I don’t even—what are you—I’m taking myself on a date, how about that, it’s called self care, ever heard of it? Huh? Okay? Huh?”

“Okay,” Osamu says, “You’re wearing a tie.”

“I can wear a tie if I want to,” Atsumu sneers, fiddling with it.

“Last summer, at Uncle Jun’s wedding, Ma had to literally threaten to shave your head to get you to wear one.”

“I’m a man now,” Atsumu sticks his chin up, examining his jaw. “I can wear a tie. Hey, did I miss anything while I was shaving?”

“You don’t have any facial hair to shave. And you have a hickey right there.”

“What? Seriously? Where?” Atsumu panics, turning back and forth.

“Ha, I got you—hey!!! Don’t hit me, asshole! I’ll tell Ma!!! And you—you left your fucking bouquet out on my desk, by the way. I told you to stop putting your stuff—no I swear I’ll kill you get offa me get off!—on my desk just because yours is too messy!”

“It was there for five seconds! You left all your laundry on my bed the other day—“

“Where was I s’posed to put it, the floor?”

“Your closet!” Atsumu roars. “Oh, shit, what time is it?” He drops his brother’s shirt collar abruptly.

“5:30,” Osamu says, dusting himself off. “What time you gotta be there?”

“She’s walkin’ over here now, probably,” Atsumu says, rushing back to the bathroom. “Fuck, well since you know, can I use your cologne?”

“It’s the same one you have?”

“It’s better, I don’t know,” Atsumu argues. “Just gimme it, it’s like one spritz.”

“Fine,” Osamu grumbles. “Hey, ‘Tsumu, I know something else you don’t know.”

“What,” Atsumu rolls his eyes as he walks around, frantically shoving his keys and wallet into his pockets, picking up the bouquet—delicate red and white flowers, not bad, scrub, thinks Osamu.

“This ain’t your first date,” he says smugly.

“What are you, Sherlock Holmes?” His brother says. “How d’you figure that?”

Osamu mock-stretches before counting off on his fingers. “One, you never walk home with me and Suna anymore. Two, there’s some flowery shit that appeared in our shower, and I know I didn’t buy it, and you’re not walkin’ around smelling like lavender and honey, so you’ve gotta be sneakin’ someone in. Three, you came to practice two weeks ago with an actual hickey, y’know, when you kept missing sets ‘cause you were in such a good mood.”

Atsumu blinks at him, finally lost for words.

“And,” Osamu says, tone somewhat gentler. “You seem a lot happier lately. Less, y’know, hard on yourself. Whoever it is, I think she’s good for you.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, swallowing roughly. “You’re so sappy.”

“Says the guy holding the flowers.” And trying not to let his eyes water over, but Osamu doesn’t say that bit. He can spare some of his brother’s dignity.

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Atsumu says quietly. “Please don’t tell Ma yet, okay? She’s always on about volleyball bein’ enough of a distraction from school, I know she thinks dating is too. I just wanna—I want her to like my—”

He says your name just as the doorbell rings.

“Her? You’re dating—?” Osamu’s tone is incredulous. “Hold on, you can’t go yet. She’s like a million times out of your league—”

“I know!” Atsumu beams at him. “Keep your mouth shut or you’ll regret it. Tell Ma I’m sleeping at the dorms with Suna. Bye!”

[senualothbrok]

Revelation

Gif by @dolceaspidenera

Summary: Gale shows Aurora she has nothing to hide. Sequel to Progress and Promise.

"Wreathed in morning light, sitting astride you, her every blemish and bulge is on display. She is exposed. Doubt disturbs her gaze.

You must banish it.

“I want to see you, Aurora.”

You take hold of her hand, swirling your tongue across the pads of her fingers. “All of you. Just like this.”"

AO3 link

Word count: 3.8k

Disclaimers: NSFW. 18+. Smut. Gale x female OC (Aurora). Aurora is in recovery from an eating disorder/body dysmorphia.

More disclaimers: Body worship. Hand and finger kink. Woman on top/cowgirl. Vaginal fingering.

-----

When she rustles beside you, your hand darts out by instinct. Buried in your bedsheets, you hear faint shouts from the docks outside, the morning call of seagulls circling overhead. Aurora has always been one to rise early, much to your chagrin. You prefer to cling to the comforts and luxuries of the night. You reach for her, groaning into your pillow.

“Early,” you manage, as your fingers dance across her hip. “Stay.”

She laughs, a huff of affection. As she retreats, you open a sleep-blurred eye. She is shuffling speedily into her slip, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulders. Strokes of golden light linger on the contours of her face. Even after all this time, your breath still catches at the sight of her, here and yours. The space she has left beside you is an ache, whirling with her scent of lavender and rain. The fragrance of home.

“Come back to bed, Aurora,” you rasp.

She smiles, amused, forbearing. You mourn the cascade of white silk over her curves. Never before have you hated a piece of flimsy, spiteful fabric as much as you do now. You could disintegrate it with a thought, were it not for Aurora’s wishes. You yearn for the constellations of freckles below her breasts and navel, trembling beneath your touch.

“I need to get to the market, Gale. I want to get you those pastries you like. And I need to get some paints and ink.”

You grizzle, shifting onto your back. After the discoveries of last night - a secret mole on the innermost curve of her thigh, a snug spot that made her body sing - you cannot think of anything less appealing than leaving this bedroom. Not for a thousand ancient tomes would you trade such reveries. Not even for signed first editions.

“All that can wait.” 

She is reaching for her robe, draped lazily on a chair beside your bed. Outside the paradise of your bedsheets, Aurora cannot bear to be naked. It saddens you, how difficult it still is for her, though your love burns in every caress of skin and tongue and soul. This goddess in all but name, the north star blazing in your blue-green sky. In your haze, it seems the greatest injustice to watch the covering of her perfect form, so recently bare and flushed against yours.

It will not do. No, you cannot bear it. You spring awake, your mind and body united in their purpose.  With a crackle and flicker of your fingers, her robe whizzes into your grip. You draw yourself up against the headboard.

Aurora can be playful. You discovered it soon after she moved into your home. It was a delight, to step behind the veil of solemn reservation, to see the twinkle in those appraising eyes. There was the joy of novelty in her, too. She had never had the chance for mischief, under the yoke of illness and her mother’s cruelty. Now, she relishes the opportunity to tease and tickle, to nip at an earlobe or ghost over a nipple. To rise to the challenge of desire. You are almost certain she will play your game.

Her lips part in surprise for an instant. Then she frowns, an impression of disapproval. “Gale.”

There is something about the intensity of her furrowed brow that makes you want to grin. It is almost theatrical. Supremely endearing. You resist the urge, mirroring her frown instead.

“Oh.” You smooth out her robe in your lap, deliberate and measured. “Did you want this?”

“Gale.” Her tone is stern, but her gaze is tender. She bites her lip, a telltale sign that sparks through your thoughts and steels your resolve. Heat simmers beneath your skin, the thrumming arousal of half-sleep that swells. “Come now.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You come now.” You tap your thigh briskly. “Come here.”

She narrows her eyes, silver flashing in a grey sea. For a while she waits as you tilt your head, your lips curled in appraisal and expectation. She pulls at her slip, her arms hovering over her belly, a habit of concealing beauty she believes to be ugliness. A habit you are bent on helping her to break, even if it takes a lifetime.

The standoff does not last long. You knew it would not. With a sigh, she climbs onto the bed, grasping for the robe which you snatch away from her once, twice, three times. You are deft and quick, and she is small, and it is easy. She glares at you, shadow daggers without an edge.

“Come closer,” you drawl. 

Her cheeks are dusted coral now. You laugh as she clambers onto your lap, her slip riding higher and higher up her thighs as she clutches for the prize that you suspend frustratingly beyond her reach. A shoulder strap falls, her lowered neckline dancing over the dark skin around her nipple. The trail of freckles between her collarbone and her cleavage is a torment, stirring your ever-present compulsion to follow where it leads. You linger on the peaks pressing through the silk that clings to her breasts, almost translucent as she jostles. There is a gathering within you, a tingling in your groin that is spreading into your core. Your growing hardness twitches against her as you wet your lips.

You feel her sharp breath, warm and sour-sweet, the tightening of her lean calves bracketing you. The gentle, subconscious roll of her hips as her eyelids flutter. You sense, once again, that she cannot resist you. Rare are the occasions when she tries. You only have to ask, and she will open to you, like the blooming bud of an unseen flower, kept in a vault to which only you have the key. She is yours, and always will be.

A jolt of desire, red and raw, pulses through you.

You fling her robe onto the floor. She does not move towards it. You seize your victory.  A gasp escapes her as you press down on the velvet soft cheeks of her ass, her arms falling around your neck like an anchor. As she buckles forward, her thick waves form a curtain around your faces, streaked with faded light. She is everything, and there is nothing else but her. 

Aurora is quiet. In the early days, your only guide to her arousal was the catching and quivering of her breath, the tensing of her flesh, the rippling of her features. Through pants and pauses, you learned the peaks and troughs of her pleasure, and in the discovery, found that she, too, was embarking on uncharted territory. Until you, Aurora’s only experience of intimacy was to mask herself with a Glamour, lying still and silent to perform a role she never asked to play. Before you, she had never known the topography of love and desire, the twining of mind, flesh and soul with another.

She had confessed, later, that you were the only one to have brought her to climax. She had never before felt that explosion of ecstasy - singular and earth-shattering, entirely alien. You remember the long, lilting moan that dripped from her, echoing the first taste of her release. And though you felt sorrow at her story, you swelled with pride. Yours is the only flesh to have joined the marvel of hers, naked and unglamoured, and brought her to bliss. If you could wear this as a badge of honour for the world to see, you would.

Yet at times there is still a hesitation in her. Not just a shyness, cemented by years of isolation, when her body was always a punishment and never a privilege. But a hint of shame. A deep-seated suspicion that you will turn away.

To have beheld Aurora in all her glory has transformed you. You could never turn away.

Your hungry mouth finds hers, open, wet and willing. You clutch and pull at the offensive fabric that stubbornly separates her skin from yours. Heinous, wretched thing. You could tear it off, rip it with your teeth. As her tongue glides against yours, she does not seem to notice your frenzy. Her delicate fingers weave into your hair, setting every fibre alight. She whimpers ever so softly as you lap and suck at the corner of her lip, her chin gleaming and moist with your spit, and all at once you are rock hard, possessed by the feel and smell and taste of her. You wrench and tug her slip upwards, drawing back slightly to whip it over her head.

Aurora pauses. Flushed and breathless, she looks down, and you know she is registering her position. She is not cloaked by your writhing limbs, or obscured beneath the bedsheets. Wreathed in morning light, sitting astride you, her every blemish and bulge is on display. She is exposed. Doubt disturbs her gaze.

You must banish it. 

“I want to see you, Aurora.” You take hold of her hand, swirling your tongue across the pads of her fingers. “All of you. Just like this.” 

She shivers. For emphasis, you press her hand firmly against your cock. It throbs, free from the constraints of clothing, seeking her like a beacon. Her touch is a surge of electricity, and you cannot stop the groan that spurts out of you. Her grey eyes are almost black, dilated with unmistakable longing.

“Please,” you whisper.

You would not ask if you thought she was unwilling. If you saw displeasure in her hesitation, and not a residual fear of rejection, an anticipation of disgust. And you must show her, again and again, that you could never respond to the miracle of her beauty with anything but the most all-consuming love. You will never stop showing her.

In the steepling of her brow, you sense a shift. The shell of trust and love peeking open. She arches backwards with the easy grace of a swan, and you are the lake beneath and around and within her. You peel her slip off with a slow and gentle reverence, your breathing stilted by awe. She closes her eyes, and you are entranced by the arc of her lifted arms, the web of her lashes, the starry patterns of her dappled skin. The sheen of desire adorning her mound. 

She is, as always, a revelation. 

“I love you.” Your voice is a prayer. “Every part of you.”

You do not let her hands fall to conceal the softness of her stomach, the stretchmarks around her hips and breasts. All the parts you cherish which she yearns to hide, dazzling stitches in the glorious tapestry of Aurora. Her eyes glimmer as you clasp her hands against the bristles of your beard, holding her fast. An eternal affirmation. A promise you will keep making until the end of your days.

You are safe. You are seen. You are loved.

Her eyes widen as you push your tangled bodies away from the headboard. Raised halfway on her knees, she steadies herself on your shoulders, as though balanced on a tightrope, with only you to keep her from falling. Every muscle within you clenches with a building ache as you bend upwards to clasp her close. You run your tongue from the nook behind her earlobe to the heave of her breast, swirling a circle around her nipple.

“I love this part,” you murmur, sucking at the hardened bud.

Her breath seizes, arousal thrusting against uncertainty. As she tilts forward, you lean back on an elbow to savour the gift of this moment - the fullness of Aurora bare and naked before you, the undeniable quiver of faith, hope and love that vibrates through her flawless form. You circle one arm around the small of her back, and the warmth of her hands gliding up your neck and into your hair sends a spasm through your gut. When your tongue catches the salt around her navel, sweeping over each mole and freckle on her midriff, she stiffens. But you trust.

“I love this part,” you repeat.

You plant wet, starving kisses on the dimples of her belly, dark corners which Aurora so fears to tread. She tenses with apprehension, hanging back slightly. You look up at her, open mouthed, your tongue still flickering from its feast before. You hold her gaze as your fingers snake over her hip bone, through her damp wiry down, to her molten core. Her folds are hot and slick, her clit smooth as a nectar-coated petal. She shudders, toppling back into you as you find it, sending a pulse from the tips of your toes through the deepest recesses of your balls. 

“And this part,” you groan into her skin.

You can smell the salt tang of her desire now, and it is intoxicating. You hum, half-drunk, as you lap at the curves of her waist, tracing swift whirls around her fire with your lithe and expert fingers. With them, you can summon the mightiest storm, reduce enemies to dust. You can raise up and tear down. But no spell could ever come close to this most masterful of skills, reserved for her alone.

She lets out a whine, short and needy - that precious signal, the spark which stokes the raging fires within you. You cannot hold it any longer. You grab her hand in your slick-soaked fingers and wrap it around your cock. You are fully erect, veins throbbing, a desperate bead leaking from your tip. In her slender fingers, you are a giant, growing stiffer by the second. You are invincible.

If she had any reservations about her effect on you, there can be surely no doubt now. In this moment, there is nothing you want more. You are nothing more than an all-consuming ache for her. She looks at you half-lidded, a gossamer string of saliva trickling from her parted, plump lips. 

“Yes,” she pleads.

You are panting as you guide her hand, aligning your length against the dew of her entrance. She lowers herself onto you so delicately that you feel like clay in a sculptor’s hands. Her walls are so smooth, so tight, against the head of your cock, and the pleasure is so piercing that your elbow buckles under you as you writhe. She falls forward, her arms trembling on either side of your head, her tongue a helpless flurry inside, outside, around your eager mouth. The mattress shivers beneath you. You see how her mind narrows to a pinpoint, drifting from the flaws she imagines and longs to hide. You feel the grinding of her hips, inviting you deeper inside her. Every sign of her unravelling snaps a frayed nerve inside you.

“Yes, my love,” you manage. “Take your pleasure.”

She withdraws a little, confusion flitting across her features. A fleeting awkwardness. You remember that this is not a position Aurora is accustomed to, nor is the control and rapture that comes from it. All at once, you are gripped by a singular determination. You will show her, or help her learn herself. You will help her reclaim what has been lost to her, all these long and lonely years, before her comet blazed into your world.

You lean upwards, your hands resuming their placement on her ass. She stares, wide-eyed, unsure. You send your thoughts out to her - trust me - and her lips ease into a faint, halting smile. You finally understand the purpose of all those meaningless dalliances of your youth, when you fumbled over and finessed the techniques of love. They were all for her. All for this.

You draw your knees up and shift your pelvis. You feel for the swollen pearl of her clit against the top of your shaft. You have memorised its contours well, so well you could seek it out blind. Aurora is your favourite topic of study, a masterpiece you will never stop unveiling. And between the sheets, this gem is her centre. When you find it, you angle yourself so every surge of your cock will grind against it. She sucks in a breath, and you smile at the confirmation.

“Does this feel good?” 

As you thrust up into her, you push her hips down to swallow your length. A blush flares on Aurora’s cheeks, deep as the pink of her folds. You grit your teeth through the compulsion that engorges you, the tremors of need through your muscles. On the third stroke, she bites her lip and rolls her eyes back as she takes your fullness inside her.

Gods, you think to yourself. You cannot hold on much longer. One moan, one whimper, one gasp as she arches back, and you could let go and fall off the edge. 

You remind yourself that you must not. You must hold on for her.

“Take your pleasure, Aurora,” you rasp.

She moves slowly, tentatively, chasing after the movement you have set. You cup her breasts as they sway, pinching gently at her nipples, thumbing at the freckles nestled within their smooth, silky undersides. Rapt and voracious, you watch for signs of growing tension seeking release. A wrinkle appears between her eyebrows, the mark of laboured concentration. The drag of your cock inside her is an ache that rubs you raw. But there is a faltering in her rhythm as she rises and falls, a frown that betrays her mounting anxiety.

You realise, with horror, that she has slipped into a performance, and she feels she is failing.

She stops. “I'm sorry.” She looks away. “I'm not very good at this. I'm not sure-”

You lurch upwards to catch her words with your mouth. You speak your reassurance through the tender dance of tongues, the shield of your arms around her. You are furious with yourself, incandescent, to have put herself in this position. To have made her feel that she could do anything to let you down. It is unconscionable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, moving back. “I didn’t mean-”

She cuts you off with an embrace. The force of it winds you. Aurora is small, but she is not weak. Her resolution has a firmness that has always stilled you. She nuzzles into your hair and neck, sealing tiny kisses along your Adam's apple. She soaks you in, and you are buoyed by the strength of her love, pure and unwavering. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You cannot ignore the sincerity in her voice. Her love is larger than your anger, greater than any foolish mistake you could make. Before her altar, you lay down the burdens of blame. You press your lips to her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks. You had wondered if it was all too much for her, if you should stop. But her fingers are ghosting over the base of your cock, and her mouth is almost greedy when she tilts your chin down to taste your moan.

“What feels good?” you ask, when you pull apart to breathe.

She struggles to answer. The question is a continual discovery, its waypoints not formed from words. But you know some of them already. You can remind her. 

“Does this feel good?”

You brush your lips across her fingers, widening your mouth as you take two, then three, into your wet warmth. You swirl your practised tongue into the space between them, sucking one in softly, the other more firmly. Her gaze darkens, the edge of her thumbnail bearing against your beard as it glistens with your spit.

You are wizards. It was not a surprise to discover your mutual love of fingers, those graceful channels of power and wonder. She had been surprised, at first, to find out all the secret spells they could cast. Her clear delight filled you with a fervent satisfaction. You know, as you press your fingers into her open mouth, that this will drive her wild. 

Her eyes wrench closed as her tongue glides down the length of your index finger, weaving and winding across, desperate for more. The shine of saliva on her chin mirrors the moisture that streams over your spasming cock as she licks and sucks with increasing hunger, whining as you plunge her digits deeper into your mouth. As you savour every inch and groove of her, your thoughts slow to a trickle. You are coming undone. 

She begins to rock, echoing the rhythm of your fingers. The flame of her desire burns over in tiny oscillations of her hips that shudder through your girth. Wider and stronger they grow, following the fierce current that takes hold of her, banishing all thought and doubt. You keen, her walls tightening and clenching as she flinches, the top of your shaft aching from the bulge of her clit and the friction that mounts as she rolls faster and faster into you. Her whimper rumbles through the pads of your fingers, and you hear the slick, heavy sounds of her arousal everywhere at once.

“Gale.” Her voice is torn with need and pleasure. “That feels so good.’

Her words are a spell. A door swings open inside you, breaking from its hinges. She senses it. Your hips snap of their own accord, thrusting to her quickening pace. All the love and lust within you gathers into the power between your legs, a roiling river ready to burst its banks. You gulp and suck, your teeth catching on her knuckles, your fingers pressing down on her flurrying tongue. She shakes as her wetness convulses around your surging cock, the twitching urgency of climax pulling her off the precipice. You gasp out a muffled cry, clinging to the last vestiges of the dam inside you as they splinter, one by one. She throws her head back and cries out your name.

You explode inside her. It is a shattering of every sensation that you have ever felt, an unleashing of yourself in bursts of blinding ecstasy. You spasm against her, a chaos of incoherent murmurs through the aftershocks of bliss. Your chest heaves, your vision fogs, your skin tingles against hers. And when your eyes meet again, a haze of awe and wonder cocoons you.

There are many things you want to say as you lie beside her. Her gaze is bright and gentle as sunlight on snow, her tousled hair a waterfall winding through your heart. You want to tell her that you love her with the fire of a thousand suns. That no night sky or grand illusion could ever hold a candle to her beauty. That she is your beginning and your end, and every instant with her is the most magical of revelations. But you do not. 

It is her moment. Her milestone. You sense the memories that ebb and flow within her, the tide of your love washing over her wounds. You listen to the lilt of her breathing, the swell of the sea, the drum of your heartbeat. Her robe and slip lie discarded on the floor as the morning wears on. You trace the footsteps of her freckles, while she maps out the drifting down on your skin. 

“I think I could do that again,” she says finally. Her smile is light with mischief. 

You grin as she melts into your arms.

-----

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