#there is love surrounding me and filling me

[nehi-soda]

Bound in Bloom -

Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he’d find peace, not after all the years of running, fighting, and surviving. But here you were, standing in the kitchen of the farmhouse, the soft swell of your belly beneath his favorite sundress on his birthday.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, farmhouse!joel, dad!joel, established relationship, pregnancy, talk about your body changing, oral sex (female receiving), mention of unprotected P in V sex, creampie, smut, fluff, soft!joel, pet names (baby, darlin'). No use of Y/N. Mood board is for aesthetics only; the reader's features aren't specified.

A/N: I just know this would be Joel's DREAM, so I wanted to gift it to him for his birthday (and you cannot tell me this man does not have a breeding kink). Yes, Joel, you can keep me barefoot and pregnant, sweetie. (Spoiler coming up?) Also, in my mind, in this universe, Joel and reader moved out of Jackson and live in the farmhouse that Dina and Ellie live in at the end of pt 2.

for @justagalwhowrites' joel miller birthday celebration (I chose Jackson Joel and breeding kink).

The soft morning light filtered through the kitchen window, painting everything with a golden haze. The sweet smell of cake filled the room as you stood at the sink, hands submerged in warm, soapy water, humming to yourself as you scrubbed the last of the cake mix off the various utensils. The worn farmhouse floor creaked beneath your bare feet, familiar and comforting. The air outside was still and quiet, except for the occasional rustle of the wind through the tall grass surrounding the house.

It was peaceful out here. Away from the chaos, from Jackson, from all of it. Joel had finally given in to the idea of a quieter life. After years of running, fighting, and surviving, he got what he'd wanted— a simple life. And you, you were part of that dream, tethered to him in ways you’d never been able to escape since the moment you met him.

Your little floral sundress clung to you a little differently now, tighter around your hips and shorter than it used to be, the fabric barely grazing mid-thigh. The hem lifted just slightly as you shifted, the soft cotton pulling tighter across the swell of your belly. You absently brushed your hand over the curve and smiled softly.

You didn’t expect to outgrow your clothes so quickly, but the last few weeks had caught you off guard. It seemed like overnight; your belly had swelled, pushing at the seams of your favourite dresses and making your jeans a distant memory. Lately, you’d been relying more and more on Joel’s t-shirts and flannels, the worn fabric soft against your skin, offering that extra room you needed. You liked the way they smelled like him—like woodsmoke and fresh pine, wrapping you in his presence even when he wasn’t there.

And God, you could see it in his eyes every time he caught you wearing something of his —how much it did something to him. How the sight of you in his clothes, with your belly rounding beneath the fabric, lit something deep inside him.

But you didn’t try to get pregnant.

There wasn’t some grand plan, no careful conversations or conscious decisions about what you were doing. It had been the way he groaned when you begged for it, the way his breath hitched and his grip on your hips tightened like he was holding on for dear life. You loved the power it gave you, how those simple words could unravel him completely.

“Put a baby in me, Joel.”

You’d whisper it in his ear in those moments when he was deep inside you, moving slow and steady, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, sweat beading on his brow as he tried to keep control. Sometimes, you’d say it soft, barely a murmur against his lips. Other times, it came out all breathless, a plea mixed in with the sound of your moans. Sometimes it would be a loud scream.

And every time, it hit him like a goddamn freight train.

You felt it in the way his body would react—his hips driving harder, deeper, as if your words unlocked something in him, something primal. He couldn’t hold back when you said it. The way his voice would break, that low, guttural groan spilling from his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, his grip almost bruising, made you want him more.

“Please cum inside me, please, please, please…”

“You want that, huh?” he’d ask, his voice strained, thick with lust. “Want me to fill you up?”

And you did. You wanted it so badly in those moments; the idea of being swollen with his child, of him claiming you in the most permanent way, made your entire body burn with need.

His movements would become more purposeful as if he was consumed by the thought of it too.

But you weren’t trying to get pregnant. Not really. 

You just loved the way it made him lose himself, how he’d bury himself so deep inside you, hips flush against yours, as he came with a broken moan, spilling himself into you over and over again, filling you up as you’d asked.

You could hear him behind you, the sound of his heavy footsteps announcing his presence before his hands did. You smiled to yourself, letting the warmth of the sun match the warmth that spread through your chest. There was something so comforting about his presence—solid, dependable.

“Morning, darlin’,” his voice was rough, still thick with sleep, but there was something softer there, too, the edge he used to carry dulled by the peacefulness of this new life. His hands found your hips easily, warm and firm as they slid over the fabric of your dress, fingers grazing the swell of your belly like it was second nature to him now.

“Morning,” you murmured, smiling as he leaned in closer, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“How’s my girls?” he asked, his hand resting protectively on your stomach, thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you.

From the moment you’d found out, Joel had been convinced you were carrying a girl. His baby girl.

“They’re just fine,” you teased, leaning back into him, letting the warmth of his body sink into yours. “She’s still baking.”

Joel chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter.

"You look real pretty today," he murmured, voice gravelly and thick with that Southern drawl. You felt his hands slide across you in a slow, deliberate grip, the curve of your waist sliding down to rest on your sore hips. His breath was warm against your neck, the thick scrape of his beard sending shivers down your spine as he planted soft kisses along the sensitive skin there. His touch was slow, tender, not rushed—like he had all the time in the world; like you were something precious.

“Gonna need to get you some new dresses soon,” he murmured. “Can’t have you walkin’ around in this one when it’s barely coverin’ you.”

“You used to love this dress, couldn’t take your hands off me when I wore it, remember? You saying I’m getting too big for it?” You laughed softly.

“Nah,” he whispered, “Just sayin’ you’re growin’ right where I want you to.”

“Well, I wore it especially. Happy birthday, old man," you teased, raising your hand to dab bubbles on his cheek before giving him a soft kiss. You bit your lip and focused back on the dishes, the feel of the soap between your fingers suddenly became more acute. But it was hard to stay focused when his hands were moving like that. His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, teasing, lifting it ever so slightly.

"Joel, I’m almost done—" you giggled, but the words caught in your throat the moment his lips pressed against that sweet spot just below your ear. His hand slid higher, bunching the fabric, exposing more of your thighs, the cool air brushing against them.

“Good,” he growled softly between kisses, his voice low and rumbling. His hands wrapped around your waist, holding you steady as his mouth continued its slow, deliberate assault on your neck.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, your body already responding to him, the ache growing with every passing second. He knew it too—the way you shifted slightly, pressing back against him, craving more even as you tried to stay focused.

“So damn beautiful.” he whispered, his voice full of affection, his lips brushing your ear. A hand slid higher again, teasing along the edge of your underwear now, and you could feel your breath hitch, your whole body tensing.

You tried to protest again, half-hearted, knowing it was useless. His fingers slid beneath the thin fabric of your panties, brushing over your folds, finding you already wet with need making him groan softly.

“Always fuckin’ ready for it, huh?” he muttered, his fingers moving with a slow, torturous rhythm that had your knees trembling. “You were made for me, made for this, to carry my babies.…”.

All you could do was hum in agreement and let out a breathless moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as the pads of his rough fingers traced hypnotic circles against your swollen clit, the sensation overwhelming. His breath was hot against your ear, his free hand cradling your belly with a kind of possessive tenderness.

“God, you drive me crazy.”

He kissed your neck again, harder this time, nipping and sucking, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. You could feel him growing harder against your back, the heat of his body pressed flush against yours.

“You want me to stop?” he whispered, his fingers still moving in slow, agonising strokes. He knew the answer before you even said it, his voice thick with a kind of smug satisfaction that only made the heat between your legs burn hotter, your pussy fluttering around nothing.

“No…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, dizzy with need.

“Didn’t think so,” his voice deep, and then his fingers dipped lower, slipping two fingers inside you, pulling a soft moan from your lips, filling that ache you always seemed to have inside you that only Joel could satisfy.

"That’s it, mama, let me take care of you.”

You could hear the soft squelch of your pussy, accepting his fingers over and over as Joel gently swayed you in his arms.

Just when you were getting lost in his heavenly touch, he pulled them out making you whimper, your pussy clenching at the sudden loss. A firm hand between your shoulder blades pushed you forward, your pulse thrumming with anticipation.

Your palms braced against the cool surface of the sink as your body instinctively arched for him.

You felt him sink to his knees behind you, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against the wood floor.

You could barely catch your breath, the feel of his hand sliding down the curve of your ass, his fingers gripping the fabric of your soaked panties, tugging them down your thighs. You gasped as the cool air hit you, your legs spreading automatically.

He pressed his lips to the back of your legs, kissing his way up slowly, reverently, as if he were worshipping you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

His mouth was on you before you could even register the heat of his breath, his tongue slipping between your folds, lapping up the wetness. You let out a moan, loud and breathless, your body jolting forward as the first wave of pleasure hit you like a lightning bolt. His hands were firm but loving on your hips, pulling you back just enough so he could fit his mouth where you needed him most.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your entire being as his tongue slid over your sex, slow and demanding. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t devouring you like a man starved. No, you were a luxury that had to be savoured.

His tongue dragged a long deliberate stroke from your clit to your entrance. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you steady as he began to devour you, his mouth relentless, his tongue dipping and circling with a precision that left you shaking.

“Joel.”

His name was all you could manage, and it came out in a desperate moan.

He fucking loved how his name sounded when you moaned it.

He pressed a kiss to your swollen clit, soft and tender, before sucking it gently between his lips.

Your head dropped forward, your body trembling as the pleasure built inside you, hotter and hotter, until it felt like you were going to explode.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered, your fingers digging into the edge of the sink till your knuckles turned white, the pressure inside you building faster than you could handle.

Each lick was thorough and purposeful, his tongue exploring every inch of you like he was committing it to memory.

“God… Joel… feels so fucking good.” You could barely speak, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as his mouth worked you over.

You rocked your hips back, settling his tounge further into your cunt.

“Mhm, mhm,” Joel hummed against you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you down harder onto his face, his words vibrating against the overstimulated bundle of nerves. “Atta girl, just like that, let go, baby.”

You could feel the orgasm building inside you, the heat coiling tighter and tighter. You were right there, teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he pushed you closer and closer.

“Joel… I’m gonna—" you tried to warn him, but it was too late. The orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out and came hard on his tongue. But he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, drinking every drop of your release until you were spent, legs giving way, chest heaving.

When he finally pulled away, you were a quivering mess and could barely stand. You felt your juices dripping down the inside of your thighs and shivered.  

Joel wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he rose behind you with a groan. “Jesus, I'm gettin’ too old for this.” His hands slid up your thighs pulling your panties back up with him. His large arms settled around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

"Don’t be too worn out," you teased, your voice soft, still giddy with the afterglow. “Ellie and everyone are coming over, remember? And we’re having cake!”

“Baby, you know…I'm feelin’ a little full, actually.” He joked.

Your jaw dropped incredulously at his vulgarity before he planted kisses all over your flushed face.

Each year, when he blew out the candles on a small cake you’d make from whatever ingredients were available, he’d always wish for the same damn thing: To keep loving you.

 And if he were extra good, maybe he’d be given another shot at fatherhood. 

Joel knew that this year, even if he never let himself fully believe he deserved it, you had already given him his greatest wish.

divider credit to @mikeykuns

[garfunklefield]

Right now I'm Shameless

18+ viewer discretion is advised

Fem!reader/Suguru Geto Warnings: plus-size!reader, reader is into cute pink frilly outfits, Geto is VERY into the readers body, emo!geto, opposites attract, oral sex, Geto is canonically hung, pussy eating with a tongue piercing, creaming, fingering, blow job, degradation/praise kink, overstimulation, crying, a little dub-con Word count: 3047 DESC: You've always wondered how many piercings your best friend has

Reupload!

“How many do you have?” 

You blinked a few times at your friend, who was lazily scrolling on his phone in front of you. You and Suguru had met in your first-year economics class and stayed friends up through college. Now as seniors, your friendship felt almost second nature. Suguru was different from you, in the sense of dressing. He wore dark clothes, had dark hair, and so many piercings. You always wore pink frilly outfits, so you contrasted perfectly. Like two sides of the color spectrum.

You never tried to stare at the dragon tattoo snaking up his muscular arm or the way his labret piercing stuck out with a sharp point on the bottom of his lip. You had tried counting before, but new tattoos and piercings seemed to show up every week. There were the gauges, eyebrow, labret, septum… but you knew there was more. Maybe in his ear? You didn’t want to consider yourself a creep, staring at him so intensely, so you opted to avoid eye contact with the handsome man as best as you could.

You wouldn’t say you had a crush on him, but you wouldn’t not say that. You were very much down for anything he wanted to do if he ever offered. But the thing was, he never offered.

Suguru lifted his head, purple eyes scanning your face. He raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment, trying to mentally count before he gave up and started feeling around his face. You noticed his hand then trail down to his stomach, before ghosting at his belt. His fingers delicately traced the silver and black surrounding his waist, holding up his black skinny jeans.

He… no way. Your eyes widened at the thought. A dick piercing? There’s no way he’d have one. And there’s no way you’d go this long without seeing it. Well no- you didn’t want to see it- well. You shook your head at those thoughts. He was just a friend, and you did not want to see his dick. He was just a friend, and you did not picture him naked sometimes. 

It didn’t help Suguru had a reputation for being incredibly … large. Girls and guys talked about it like it was a godsend just to be fucked from behind by his cock. Not going to lie, you’ve thought about it before. Just a small fantasy, and wondering what it would be like. You saw how he’d eye you in those short pink skirts or those low-cut kawaii tops, you know the ones you’d find on Pinterest. Your body was far from flat, being curvy and fat-filled in all the right places. Even if they weren’t the right places for others, they were to you. You loved your big form and you could tell that Suguru enjoyed the view too.

“Seven,” he looked back at you and adjusted his position, sitting up. You two were just in your dorm, sitting on either side of your bed. God the whole thing was pink, you felt so proud. He stuck out like a sore thumb.

You thought for a moment. Gauges, eyebrow, septum, lip… that was only four. So there were three you couldn’t see. Your mind and eyes instantly wandered down his body, stopping at his stomach, “Belly button?” You didn’t dare to look down to see the tent being pitched in his jeans, the tent you knew was growing as you continued to speak.

“And tongue,” he spoke softly, brushing some hair from his face. He pushed it behind his ear but it continued to fall into his eyes, “The other one you’re going to have to guess.” A seductive look crossed his face, trailing up to his eyes. He blinked a few times, barely closing his eyes to let his eyelashes ghost against his bottom eyelid. Fucking majestic honestly. 

“Guess? C’mon just tell me,” you frowned, motioning to his perfect body, “Is it a dermal somewhere?” 

“No. Think dirtier,” he then paused, “Think lower,” he suddenly purred. Suguru knew exactly what he was doing. You couldn’t deny you were attracted to him (I mean you do have sexual fantasies about him). And you couldn’t deny how it made you soak your underwear when he spoke to you in that low tone. You could just imagine him groaning sweet nothings into your ear with that perfect tone, with each thrust becoming sloppier as he attempted to reach his high. You could practically feel him bite down on your neck as he fucked you, pumping you with his seed.

“Lower?” You bit down on your bottom lip and adjusted your position to sit up as well, “Um… I don’t wanna seem weird.” 

“Nonsense, you won’t be weird. Did you go too perverted?” He smirked and set his phone on the bed, motioning down to his legs, to the pulsating hard-on in his skinny jeans, “I can show you if you’re too embarrassed to say it.” 

You slowly closed your eyes and released your bottom lip from the hold on your teeth, “Are you sure?” What was in the water today? Was it obvious he was turning you on? Was it obvious you wanted to give in and close the space, even if it was a mistake? I mean he was hard for Christ's sake! How much more obvious could you both get? Every inch of his body was on fire as if it was statically charged, just aching to touch your perfect curves. Suguru was hot, you couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny his attraction to you. You couldn't deny your attraction to him any longer. And it was obvious to him, huh? It must’ve been obvious to everyone. You slowly opened your eyes and stared at him. He was serious. God you just wanted him to show you how big he truly was. And god you just wanted him to fuck you like the needy little whore you were. 

“Always baby,” he grinned and stood up, beginning to undo his belt. You found yourself staring at his quivering dick through his pants. He was hung. You could see it from how his dick sat in his pants, becoming more erect as he just teased you there. His hands are seated atop his hips, with his cat-like eyes staring you down. Purple pupils dilated in your direction. Suguru then grabbed your chin and forced you to stare back into his own eyes, widening them as he continued, “I’m down if you’re down to see my piercing.” 

Your eyes fluttered a bit with your bottom lip jutting out into a pink glossy pout. You needed to think about this for a moment. If he was offering, you’d like to take a ride on that stallion. Besides, you couldn’t say no to that stare even if you tried. If he truly wanted to fuck you and he knew you wanted to fuck him, why not? You only live once. And you knew this would just be a one-time thing, just sex. God you just needed him to fuck you. 

“Can I see your dick now? I’m down,” you spoke softly, opening your eyes fully to stare at the grin atop his face. Fuck it, you thought. 

Your best friend nodded and let go of your face, bringing his hands to fondle his belt. He slid it off and then started to shimmy out of his skinny jeans. He looked stunning in just a pair of loose boxers that hugged his muscled curves. He thumbed the waistline of his underwear and let his eyes flick back to you, “Do me a favor princess, and kneel in front of me. I want to see how you look against my cock,” he cooed, watching as your plump form fell to the floor on his knees in front of him.

How could you say no to that beautiful voice as it rang through your ears? You couldn’t! You nodded hungrily as he smiled down at you. You looked pathetic. You felt pathetic. But you didn’t care. Just to taste that length around your mouth would be worth it. To swallow his cum would make you feel whole. Something inside of you needed him suddenly, and so badly.

Suguru slowly brought his underwear down, revealing his massive cock. He was huge. You could see it from the way it lazily sprung from his body and how it glistened in your room lighting. You wanted to touch it so badly, to run your fingers over his Prince Albert piercing until he was shaking for more. It was just a loop through the side of his tip, through the urethra, and out one side. You reached out and grazed your fingers up to his tip, lightly tugging at his piercing. He bit his lip and watched you, hands waiting idly on either side of his body. 

“Hold on,” he said softly, lifting one of his hands to sweep some of your hair up from under your scalp, “Do I have permission to use you as my fuck toy?” He pulled your hair into a ponytail, although you had to say it was the worst one you’ve ever seen. You looked up at him and went to speak but the tip of his cock lightly tapped at your bottom lip. You couldn’t even hide the moan that escaped your lips, and he took that as a yes. 

You opened your mouth and he forced his way inside you. You gagged at the feeling of his tip and his piercing kissing your mouth. It was already too much to be stuffed this badly but he didn’t seem to care. Both of your hands anchored to his hips, letting your nails dig in as he grabbed your ponytail. With one fluid motion, he brought your lips closer to the middle of his shaft, before pulling you back to his tip, then back again. It was consistent how utterly fast he was going. You gagged again as you felt his piercing trail up and down the side of your mouth, clashing against your teeth. 

“F..fuck you’re a whore for this, huh? You t-take this without any hesitation, huh?” Suguru breathed out, throwing his head back in a blissful state of condescension. You looked up at him and tried to pull your head back to speak, but he slammed you back against his cock. You whimpered at the sensation, feeling a pleasurable throb grow in your legs. Fuck you just needed some sort of release to make this all worth it.

One of your hands on his hip moved down in between your pants, rubbing against your clothed cunt. Anything for a bit of friction and stimulation. You just needed to feel him pound you, or better yet eat you out with that tongue piercing of his. You rubbed with two fingers in quick circles, feeling a small wave of pleasure build through your clit. You moaned and gagged at the same time, feeling the nauseous twinge run up the back of your throat. It hurt so good. God…

You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t even breathe from how much he fucked you. It was as if you were Suguru Geto’s personal fleshlight for him to use until he was completely milked dry. And it turned you on so much. To be used as an object. You wanted him to use you until you were shaking and crying for it to stop. Hey- you were halfway there already. Tears formed at the base of your eyes and threatened to come out with each thrust until they finally started pouring from your cheeks. 

“Aw… mm-f .. fuck. Is this too much for you p.. Mm, princess?” Suguru spat, raking one hand through your hair and yanking on the ponytail. He pulled you from his cock, a line of slobber hanging from your bottom lip. He stared at you with pure lust, just aching to defile every inch of your perfect body, “Look at me, whore,” he commanded. You did as he said, eagerly staring up at him for something else to do. God what a sub! 

You blinked a few times before he pulled you up. You whined at the painful sensation of being pulled by your hair, as he pressed a slobbery kiss against your open mouth. He tasted like cigarettes and it made your legs weak. You managed to find your footing and stand, letting him press himself against you. Suguru ate at your mouth as if you were his last meal, hoping and praying it would never end. He needed your taste against his tongue as if it was the last thing on Earth. 

“Pathetic slut,” he murmured, biting down on your lip. You gasped and then felt him force his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t feel the piercing against your tongue, but you could feel him move his tongue perfectly against yours. Saliva mixing made you throb uncontrollably. As you kissed, you felt him walk forward, inching towards your bed. You had a feeling where this was going. The railing right?

He pushed you back against your bed, your knees bending on the edges. Your best friend pulled your shorts down, not even caring to remove them from your ankles. You looked down with a dazed expression and murmured something about him fucking you, to which Suguru laughed and mused, “Let me please you first.” You didn’t need to be told twice, as you let your back hit the back of the bed with a light thump. 

You felt him slide down your lace panties with gentle care before two fingers spread your folds apart and a tongue licked your slit. You felt a metal pebble lightly rub up and down your clit as he licked, before moving to suck and slurp as if he was a starving man. A faint moan escaped your lips as your hips moved with a mind of their own, grinding against his face as his tongue moved circles around your swollen clit. Typically this motion wouldn’t get you so hot and bothered, but something about Suguru made it incredibly arousing. He was just … perfect. Maybe this shouldn’t be a one-time thing. 

Suguru pulled away for a moment and removed a ring or two from his pointer and middle finger, before dipping them into your pussy. You bit your lip and watched slowly as he sunk two fingers in. He curved his hand and bent his knuckles, beginning to pump in and out of you with a devious grin. You wanted to ask why he was admiring you with those eyes but as he grazed your G-spot, suddenly all words died on your tongue. You let out a guttural moan and lifted your hips to the sensation, trying to catch more of this intense pleasure he was giving you. 

“That’s it. Cream on my fingers, you filthy cunt. Aw does someone like it when I call her a cunt? You’re desperate. I could tell-” he spat as he thrust two digits inside you, “-you wanted me but you were too shy. And now you’re aching to cum… It’s almost cute,” a condescending laugh fell out of his mouth and he leaned forward, licking a pitiful stripe against your clit, “I could let you cum…”

“Please…” You whined, throwing your head back as the pleasure got too much. It was too much and not enough to be fucked by his fingers. You needed all of him at that moment, even if it wasn’t possible, “Please Suguru…” You breathed out shakily, turning your head to stare at him with an unfocused look. 

“Since you asked nicely,” Geto smiled and pressed his lips against your pussy, thrusting all the while. He ate you out and pushed another finger inside, just to see if you could handle it. You could; bucking your hips in response to the added stimulation. You could feel the exact spot it was rubbing and you could feel your body beginning to contort as the pleasure was building. You sat up and ground against his face, stretching out both arms to grab onto something. Nothing but sheets were in your vicinity and all you could do was helplessly grab them and beg to cum. It was mindless at this point, as he sucked your clit, to beg for completion. 

Something he must’ve done ended up pushing you over the edge. Whether it was his tongue fucking you or his fingers, something made you cum around them and clench. You clenched so hard you could feel his struggle to thrust them in and out, forcing him to instead internally rub against your G-spot. You gasped and lifted your hips again as you rode your high, biting down on your bottom lip and grabbing the sheets as if your life depended on it. You had never cum to the point of almost blacking out, but now that you have you never wanted to go back. The feeling of pleasure so intense wiping over you it made you dizzy, made another twinge of arousal poke at your clit. 

But you realized the pleasure had stopped. Suguru pulled his fingers out and pressed a light kiss against your cunt, standing up and then sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked down at you with fondness, taking in your half-exposed body. He murmured something you didn’t hear before clearing his throat, “You’re gorgeous.” 

You smiled and reached your hand out, grazing against his arm, “Round …two?”

He laughed and looked away, “I don’t think you can keep your eyes open. I won’t fuck you until you can’t walk …yet. I want to warm you up first.”

“This is a regular thing?” You raised an eyebrow, sleepily attempting to sit up but letting yourself slide back against the bed, “You haven’t cum though…”

Suguru shook his head and grabbed your chin delicately, contrasting with how he had manhandled you just minutes prior. He pressed a soft kiss against your temple and released you, letting you fall against the bed once more. 

“Get some rest and I’ll rail you in an hour, okay?” He smiled, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. Who were you to say no to such a face?

[dark-moonlust]

Midnight Passion

Pairing: werewolf x f!human reader

Summary: you wake up in the middle of the night to the steady press of your werewolf’s cock against your pussy.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, werewolf huge🍆, breasts/nipple stimulation, p in v sex, lots of 💦, cοckwarming.

It was during the quiet darkness of the night when you stirred, incredible warmth pooling in your belly. You also felt something hard and pulsing prodding at your pussy. Blinking lazily you realized your werewolf boyfriend was spooning you from behind, his hard cock nestled between your wet pussy, rubbing over your slick entrance. You heard the wet squelch each time he rubbed back and forth and your own unbidden moans.

You leaned back against him, thankful for your habit of always sleeping naked together.

“Did I awaken you, mate?” he grumbled in your ear, his muzzle causing you to shiver.

You smiled sheepishly. “Only pleasantly awakened, my ever horny werewolf.”

Chuckling, he cupped your plump breasts, his fingers flicking your nipples, careful of his claws. You burrowed into him and wiggled your waist, moaning as the head of his shaft rubbed your clit. Groaning from deep within his chest, he bend his head, his long textured tongue licking around one nipple. He suckled audibly then alternated to the other. You whimpered and thrust your chest to him, offering your tits to him without shame.

“Hmm… someone’s sensitive.”

"Mm… hmnnm." You sucked in a breath and snaked your hand down, cupping his rigid cock. His cock was massively perfect, a stunning monster shaft that stood at full mast. His dick was thick and engorged— your hand couldn’t wrap around it. It was also surrounded by pleasurable ridges and a knot that swelled once he released his seed.

“N-need your pussy…" he drawled in pain, pumping his cock in your palm. “Need your warm cunt wrapped around my cock. Let me in, love, hm?“

Sleep completely forgotten, you clutched his cock in your palm and guided him inside. The slide was slow and blissful. You felt every inch of him invade you and bury so deep inside you that he stole your breath away. When he filled you to the hilt, you both let out a harsh moan. He pulsed wildly and lifted your legs slightly to open you up, while pumping his hips.

The bed squeaked as he claimed you, his massive framed curled behind you, so much bigger than your own. You were so wet that his cock slid in and out of you without issue, wet squelches echoing as he fucked you and owned your pussy. You rocked against him while he licked and pinched your nipples, driving you higher and higher.

When he started rubbing your clit, you thrashed and let out the sweetest whimpers. You dug your nails into his furry forearms while he breathed hotly against your ear, whispering sweet little love words and begging you to cum and squeeze his cock. You gyrated your waist, angling his cock just as you both liked and floated higher and higher until—

Pleasure claimed you, violently and utterly. You shut your eyes tightly and came, thrashing as your insides fluttered around his thrusting cock. Your werewolf didn’t stop fucking you and lightly toyed with your clit. His cock slammed in and out of you in steady powerful thrusts, your breasts heaving against his tongue.

When you rode the waves of your climax, you smiled against him and pressed a gentle nudge against his chest. He didn’t move an inch—he was thrice your size and as solid as a rock, but your nudge was enough to convey your message: you wanted to change positions. More than eager, he lay back, his hard cock sliding out of you with an obscene wet sound.

Without hesitation, you straddled his thick hairy thighs, your palms caressing his broad chest while his cock pulsed against your belly. “My turn now, big boy.”

He smiled and slapped your perky ass. “Take what you need, my lady."

Without hesitation, you lifted yourself and sat down on his cock. The thick head spread your folds and surged up inside you. A gasp escape your lips at the depth and stretch of his invasion. He was so deep, deeper than before and as you began to ride him, you could see the shape of his dick making your belly swell. Still, you took him in fully, your incredible wetness making the glide effortless.

Settling his feet on the mattress, he fucked up into you, causing your whole frame to bounce. His hands roamed your body, cupping your shoulders, your tits and round ass. His thrusts turned frantic and more urgent than before. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the bedroom, mixed with your raw, unrestrained moans. His growls made your shiver and drove you wild.

The connection between you was electric, every touch, every thrust, fueling the fire inside you.

“Gods, there is no better feeling in the whole world than this,” he panted, pounding up inside you. “You. Only you.”

“Oh, yessss…” you clutched him, sensitive and on the verge of another orgasm. “Gonna… ahn… gonna—”

“Now. Cum now, little mate.”

You responded with breathless little moans, your muscles flexing as a second climax exploded within you, waves of pleasure traveling all over your body. You went wild and buckled against him but he continued to pound into you until he found his own release. Burying himself to the hilt, he swell within you, his cock pumping load after load of wolf cum. Menacing growls echoed in the room as he spilled inside you, his knot plugging you up, locking you together. He filled you to bursting and you could do nothing but take it and collapse on his strong chest.

It was minutes later when he stopped cumming. You had climaxed again with little aftershocks that still rippled through your body. Lying atop his muscular frame, his cock still a part of you, you played with his hairy chest and nestled against him. You were a mess, spent, pleasured and sleepy. And you couldn’t be more happy. With a sigh, you heard the steady beating of his heart and soon, you drifted into sleep.

[ultravioletbrit]

“candle” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 338 words

 

Regulus just got home and he walks through the living room to the kitchen looking for James.

“James?” He calls when he doesn’t find him.

“Out back.” James answers. 

Regulus walks out the back door and his breath hitches and his eyes fill with tears when he sees James standing on their patio with his hands behind his back. He’s wearing a full suit and tie, there are twinkle light hanging above him and he’s surrounded by candles.

“James?” Regulus whispers, he doesn’t trust his voice to speak any louder.

“Hi, love.” James smiles. Regulus slowly walks over to him and he feels a tear roll down his cheek. James brings one hand out from behind his back to cup Regulus’ cheek and brush the tear away with his thumb. “No tears.” He says softly.

“Can’t help it.” Regulus’ voice cracks. He’s overwhelmed with emotions and he can’t help it when words start tumbling from his lips. “Because you… and you look… and the lights… and all the candles…”

“One candle for every year I’ve loved you.” James smiles and Regulus quickly scans the candles surrounding James.

“We’ve only been together 3 years. There are 7 candles?”

“Regulus, I have loved you since the day I met you. And if you’ll let me, I’ll love you every day for the rest of our lives and then some.” Regulus lets out a sob as James drops to one knee and brings his other hand out from behind his back holding a small box. James opens the box to reveal a silver ring, and Regulus drops to his knees along with James.

“Yes.” He says and leans in to kiss James.

“Regulus…” James pulls back slightly with the biggest grin.

“Yes!” Regulus wraps his arms around James’ neck bringing him back for another kiss.

“Reg… I had a whole speech written.” James says, chuckling against Regulus’ lips.

“Read it to me later. Yes!” Regulus says again and James takes his hand and slides the ring on his finger and pulls him in for more kisses.

[earthchica]

never lose me

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: you and terry have had an on-and-off friends-with-benefits situation, but perhaps that's about to change.

warning: explicit smut (18+), fluff, unprotected rough morning sex, dirty talking, fwb, choking kink, mention of fear and rejection, slight daddy kink, foreplay, oral (m), pet names (baby girl, baby, etc.)

note: my first fanfic on one of aaron pierre's character! I watched rebel ridge then binge-watching all the stuff he was and fell in love. He is absolutely fine and adorable.

{ part two }

-

You woke up to the gentle morning sunbeams sneaking past the veil of curtains. Your eyes scan the room, attempting to determine your location.

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, and you felt something firm against your ass. Glancing over, you noticed terry peacefully snoring with his mouth slightly ajar.

A smile crept onto your face as you recalled your surroundings. Recollections of the previous night flooded your mind, and you told yourself this would never happen again but it did.

You and Terry met during your time in the Marines. You both instantly clicked, finding you both had a lot in common and became inseparable.

Throughout the ups and downs, you have consistently been each other's pillars of support, standing by one another through every breakup, every headache, and every dark moment.

People often questioned if you two were in a relationship or hinted you would make a great couple, but you couldn't comprehend their perspective at first.

Until you started getting feelings for him but soon after, you realize that the connection was purely platonic.

And because of that you tried to end this thing multiple times but Terry just knew how to pull you back in.

You sighed sofly, an idea formed in your mind. You slip out of his hold, moving down to his legs and gently pushing the blankets aside.

The sight of his big, long dick made your mouth water; just staring at it filled you with excitement and warmth.

You leaned in, gently touched the top of his dick, increased your pace slightly, and eagerly anticipated his response.

"............" He softly murmurs your nickname, groggily opening his eyes.

A look of delight spreads across his face as he sees you positioned between his legs, prepared to pleasure him.

A few more gentle touches at the tip before enveloping his shaft in your mouth, then started moving your head up and down.

Terry lets out a loud moan and firmly grasps your curly hair. His deep and alluring moans ignited a strong sensation deep within you.

You looked up at his face and noticed his eyes filled with desire. You moved your mouth away with a wet sound and coated his dick with your saliva.

"Oh, fuck. Y-you gotta stop…baby girl" Terry says in a low voice as he brushes your untidy, curly hair away from your face.

Before you could speak.

Terry lifted you and flipped you onto your back. He began leaving a trail of kisses along your neck, while gently running the tip of his dick up and down your pussy.

You lean into him, craving his touch as you long for him to be inside you; the teasing has become unbearable.

Terry also couldn't resist; he thrust deep inside, filling and stretching you.

Fuck...you loved how big he was, and how it always felt like you were about to be split in half.

This sensation was what you always desired and yearned for. He started to move back and forth inside you gently.

Stroking your cheeks with his hands before increasing the speed and pressing his forehead against mine.

"Terry, rougher please!" You whispered as you gazed into his passionate eyes.

You drew him into a kiss while raising your leg slightly to stimulate your inner self.

"You love getting fucked rough huh, baby?" He inquired, drew back from the kiss, gently wrapping his hand on your neck.

"Yes Ahh, Terry yes!!" You moaned, digging your nails into his arm as his thrusts quickened desperately.

You could feel your legs tightening up.

With immense strength, you swiftly flipped him onto his back and linked your hands with his, moving up and down his body.

"Oh...take a little control...I see?" He smirked, and you nodded sensing your grip tighten around him, causing a pulsating sensation deep inside you.

Terry releases one of your hands and firmly grasps your waist. Aligning his movements with the rhythm, elicited a loud moan from you.

You savored each moment as he thrust up inside your wet, dripping pussy.

You felt your eyes roll in the back of your head, feeling yourself already close to the edge.

Terry let go your hand before placed both his hands on your hips, pounding up into you.

You gasped, gripping his shoulder before throwing your head with a cry of moan.

"That's fucking right. Take that fucking dick, You loves daddy's dick Right?" He asked.

"Yes, oh fuck I love daddy's dick. I'm-I'm gonna cum can I cum, Daddy!" You cried in pleasure, feeling yourself about to release.

"Cum, baby girl. Cum for me!" He demanded, and you obeyed, shouting his name, as you felt a powerful wave of release surge through you sharply.

Terry flips you on your stomach, face down and ass up. He fucks you through your high, desperately chasing his release.

"Fucking so good, baby. The best pussy I've ever had" Terry says, gripping your hips tightly, pounding into you faster than before.

You felt another orgasm coming along and it felt too much for you, so you tried to move away.

"Ahh...no fucking run...take this fucking dick, like a good girl" Terry groans, smacking your ass.

"TERRY!" You cried, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. He brought you up, wrapping his hand around your throat while kissing your neck.

In a matter of seconds…you both came togather, it was so intense and sensual.

Terry winced a little, coming inside of you. You both dropped immediately down into the pillows, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck" He cursed, pulling out before lying down beside you on his back.

"Damn, girl you're gonna be the fucking death of me," Terry remarked with a contented sigh as you gazed over at him with weary eyes, nodding in approval.

-

"I know we've been on and off with this, but I think we should definitely continue it," you declared as you emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body.

Terry appeared slightly disappointed but swiftly adjusted his expression as he pulled his pants back on.

"Hey, you good?" You asked, moving to sit next to him on the bed. Your voice filled with concern as you leaned in, waiting for his response.

"What if we...you know, um...shit," he says, struggling to get the words out, leaving you utterly confused.

"Terry, what are you trying to say?" you pressed, as you placed your hand on his leg, locking eyes with him.

"I want to take you out on a date, I'm done with this on-and-off shit. I want something serious with you" He says with those pretty eyes.

You were taking back, you would never believed this would happen but you were glad.

You suddenly realized that not a single word had left your lips as you stared at him, leaving him with an embarrassed expression.

"Forget I fucking said anything," he murmured, rising from the bed to slip into his shirt before making his exit.

You acted quickly, stepping in front of him to block his exit. You met his gaze with a soft smile and firmly placed your hand on his chest.

"Terry, I've been waiting to hear that for so long? Do you truly want something more?" You asked, pursuing assurance.

His touch tenderly caressed your face, prompting you to close your eyes and revel in the exquisite sensation.

"Of course...I do..baby. You've always been someone I can rely on, be myself with, and I guess fear and rejection played a big part in me not confessing to you" He says.

"I would've never rejected you. I-I love you Terry...and I've always wanted more with you but I guess I was afraid too" You confessed.

His eyes widened in disbelief at the three little words. You couldn't help but smile at his stunned reaction.

"Say that again?" he murmured, enveloping you in his embrace, yearning to caress your neck with his lips.

You giggled, whispering, "I love you, Terry Richmond. I've always had and I always will"

He drew you in for a kiss, and this one was unlike any other you both had shared.

This was pure love and sweetness. You enveloped him in your arms, savoring the kiss.

"I love you too," he said, pulling away from the kiss and brushing a few strands of curls out of your face.

"Is that so?" you inquired with a gentle smile. Terry chuckled and tenderly swept you into his arms, eliciting joyful giggles from you.

"I do... I've always felt this way, and I always will. I'm in love with you...so can I take you on a date?" "Terry asked, flashing his charming smile."

"I would love to go on a date with you, Terry," you declared with a smile, and he joyfully spun you around, both of you bursting into laughter.

[chiara81-4]

hey girlie!! could you do lando norris x reader pls🙏🙏🙏 i loved ur charles story and i want u to write one ab lando pls pls pls 🙏🙏 love u

a/n: hey love! of course! I've gotten a couple lando x reader requests so I will do my best to please everyone!

——————————————————————————————————

forever and always - lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, brothers best friend trope, not proofread (sorry for any typos)

word count: i don't know LOL it's a lot.

——————————————————————————————————

Age 11:

you had an older brother, he was talented since he was young. your parents dumped money into his racing career at a young age, leaving you alone. when it was your 11th birthday, your family went to watch your brother kart. since then you just kind of been there, until lando came along...

Age 14:

your brother came home one day, your parents surrounding him with kisses and hugs. you rolled your eyes, turning around and going to your room. a few hours had past and you heard lively chatter fill the dining room downstairs. you were confused. did a family member come to visit? you strolled your way down, walking into the dining room to find your eyes meeting an unfamiliar pair of green eyes. you furrow your brows, confused. "honey, this is lando" your mother smiled at you. "hey," he smiled. "hi, im y/n" you nervously said.

why were you so nervous? you avoided his gaze every chance you got, you went to sit down next to your brother, who was talking to lando about some karting race they had together. until the conversation fell to a weird silence. lando spoke up "its y/n, right?" he questions. "yeah its y/n" you smile faintly at him. he continues to talk "have you seen the new (movie) yet?"

"oh no i haven't. how about you?" you queer. "me either, we should go together just, you and me." a blush crept onto your face. "i mean, um, sure."

"great, meet me outside your house at 6pm" he smiled

"dude, ew that's my sister, no way you like her." your brother disgustingly looked at him. lando rolled his eyes and continued to smile at you.

-time skip-

the clock reads 5:30pm, only half an hour until lando picks you up and you're stressing. what are you going to wear? you put some light makeup on (you can change anything about the outfit, makeup etc :)) as well as some light blue jeans and a dark blue shirt. by the time you're content with your outfit you hear a knock on your door, you rush down the stairs to find your brother at the front door.

"i'm not sure about this y/n, hes my best friend." your brother says. "oh my god shut up (brothers name), grow up." you roll your eyes and walk out the front door, closing it in his face. you're met face to face with lando. who is wearing black jeans and a white shirt.

"wow, you look really nice y/n" he smiles. you smile back, thanking him as well as complimenting his outfit.

when you arrive at the movie theatre, lando buys the tickets and snacks. you argued (playfully) over who would be paying. "lando, just let me buy the popcorn, you bought the tickets." you say "never." he argues back.

once you guys grab your popcorn and whatever else, you made your way to the theatre and sat down in your seats. "i'm really glad you agreed to join me, y/n" lando smiled. "me too" you return the smile, once the previews start, you and lando are laughing at how bad some of the upcoming movies are. "NO WAY IS SOMEONE GOING TO WATCH THAT" you cackle. lando laughed even harder at your comment, until the lights dimmed and the movie started.

about halfway through the movie, lando turned to you. your eyes were glued to the screen until you saw lando looking at you. "what?" you say. "nothing, nothing" he cheekily smiles at you. you turn your eyes back to the movie playing in front of you. until you feel lando grab your hand. you blush hard. thank god its dark in the theatre.

once the movie is over. you and lando continue to keep your fingers interlocked. until you go home.

when you arrive at your front door lando smiles at you. "thank you again for agreeing to come with me y/n. i really enjoyed it."

"thank you for inviting me, lando." you kiss his cheek. landos face turns a beet red. "see you soon." you say.

"y-yeah, see you soon." lando says, holding his cheek in the place you pecked it. you open the door and turn around to say one last goodbye.

the thing you didn't know is that you wouldn't be seeing him anytime soon after the movie date.

——————————————————————————————————

stay tuned for part 2!!

[judebellswife]

Full Name Frenzy

— pairing • dad!jude bellingham x mom!reader

— summary • You, Jude Bellingham’s fun-loving girlfriend, team up with his entire family to pull off a hilarious TikTok prank where you call him by his full name in front of everyone. The plan is perfect: everyone’s in on the joke, except Jude. His adorable daughter, Rosie, steals the show with her hilarious reaction, turning the prank into a memorable family moment filled with love and laughter.

— warnings • Fluff overload, light teasing, adorable family dynamics, and lots of banter.

— wanna talk or send request • to charlotte

It was a calm, sunny Sunday afternoon at the Bellingham family house—one of those rare lazy days when everyone could simply relax and enjoy each other's company. The smell of a home-cooked lunch lingered in the air as the house buzzed with light conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. It was a perfect family day, but for you, it was the perfect setup for a prank you had been planning for days.

As you sat on the living room couch with your boyfriend, Jude Bellingham, and your three-year-old daughter Rosie, you were practically giddy with excitement. The idea had started as a harmless joke when you stumbled upon a viral TikTok trend. It was simple: call your partner by their full name and capture their reaction. But knowing Jude’s playful personality and the fact that he was surrounded by his family—his parents Denise and Mark, and his younger brother Jobe—you couldn’t resist going all in.

It was about time to pull off the prank, but not without some help from Jude’s family.

The night before, after Jude had gone to bed, you had shared your plan with the rest of the family, gathering them in the kitchen for a secret discussion.

“So, I’ve got a prank in mind,” you whispered with a grin, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Jude wasn’t anywhere near. “And I need all of you to help me pull it off.”

Denise and Mark immediately perked up. Denise smiled warmly as she leaned against the counter, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Oh, I love a good prank. What are we doing?”

You explained the viral TikTok trend and how you planned to call Jude by his full name—Jude Victor William Bellingham—in front of everyone. The key to the prank was keeping a straight face and making Jude think he was in some serious trouble, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Mark chuckled, already seeing how Jude might react. “You know he’s going to be confused as hell. He never hears his full name unless it’s something serious.”

Denise nodded enthusiastically, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “And he hasn’t been called that since he was a little boy. I’m in.”

Jobe, who had been listening while casually scrolling through his phone, suddenly grinned. “Wait, you want us all to act like Jude’s in trouble? Oh, I’m so in for this. I’ll make it dramatic.”

You laughed, already imagining Jobe hamming it up and making Jude’s confusion even worse. “Exactly! He won’t know what hit him. I’m going to start it off casually, and then we’ll see where it goes from there.”

Denise giggled like a schoolgirl. “I can’t wait to see his face.”

“And don’t worry,” you added with a wink. “Rosie will have the final word. She’s going to unknowingly seal the deal.”

Mark laughed and nodded approvingly. “You’re using our granddaughter as the secret weapon. Smart move.”

The plan was set. You all knew your roles. Now, all you had to do was wait until tomorrow.

The next day, everything felt perfect. The family had gathered in the living room after a hearty lunch. Jude, unaware of what was coming, was lounging comfortably on the couch next to you, scrolling through Netflix and mindlessly suggesting shows to watch.

Your daughter, Rosie, was sitting on the floor, her tiny fingers wrapped around the plastic handles of her dolls as she hummed happily to herself. Jude’s parents, Denise and Mark, sat across the room in armchairs, chatting softly, while Jobe sprawled out on the other couch, pretending to be deep into his phone, but really waiting for his moment to strike.

You caught Denise’s eye from across the room, and she gave you a small, conspiratorial nod. It was time.

You leaned back against the cushions, acting as casual as you could, before dropping the bomb. “Jude Victor William Bellingham,” you said, your voice carrying just enough weight to suggest seriousness, but not too much to make it sound fake.

Jude’s body froze. He turned slowly to look at you, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Wait... what?” he said, blinking at you as if you had just said something in a foreign language.

You stared back at him, keeping your face completely neutral. “You heard me,” you said with a deadpan expression. “Jude Victor William Bellingham.”

The room fell silent. Denise lowered her cup of tea slowly, her eyes widening in what could only be described as mock concern. Mark raised an eyebrow from behind his newspaper, peeking over the top like he was waiting for some kind of explanation. Even Jobe, who had been doing his best to act oblivious, now sat up straighter, his mouth open in exaggerated shock.

“Bro,” Jobe muttered, shaking his head dramatically. “Not the full name. You’re in deep now.”

Jude looked around the room, his expression one of total confusion. “What the hell is going on? Why are you using my full name like that?”

Denise, ever the supportive mom, chimed in softly, her voice laced with concern. “Sweetheart, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Jude exclaimed, laughing nervously, but still visibly unsettled by the sudden use of his full name. “Why is everyone acting like I’ve committed some crime?”

You tried your hardest to maintain your composure, but it was difficult. Jude’s face was a mix of disbelief, nervousness, and slight panic, like he was trying to figure out if there was some major mistake he didn’t remember making.

Jobe, of course, leaned into the drama, shaking his head slowly. “Nah, bro, when they drop your full name like that, it’s over. You’ve done something. Just admit it now and save yourself.”

Jude looked genuinely baffled now, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “But I haven’t done anything! I swear!”

You kept your serious expression, though inside you were practically bursting with laughter. “Jude Victor William Bellingham,” you repeated, drawing out each syllable for extra effect. “I can’t believe you don’t know what you’ve done.”

Jude threw his hands up in the air, looking helplessly around the room. “I’m telling you, I’ve got no idea! Mum, Dad, help me out here!”

Denise shrugged, her lips pressed together as if she were trying hard not to laugh. “I don’t know, Jude. She used your full name. You must have done something.”

At this point, Mark lowered his newspaper fully, folding it on his lap as he gave Jude a sympathetic look. “Son, full names are no joke. Maybe it’s time to come clean.”

Jude groaned, still laughing but now visibly confused and stressed. “But there’s nothing to come clean about! You’re all ganging up on me for no reason!”

That’s when Rosie, who had been mostly absorbed in her dolls, suddenly looked up. Her big brown eyes, wide and full of innocence, locked onto her father. She paused for a moment, processing the serious tone everyone had adopted, before deciding it was time for her input.

In the sweetest, most innocent voice, she pointed a tiny finger at Jude and said, “Oooooh, Dada, you’re in soooo much trouble.”

That was it. The room erupted into chaos. Jobe doubled over, clutching his stomach as he let out a loud laugh. Denise was wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, while Mark chuckled deeply, unable to contain himself. You couldn’t hold it in any longer either, bursting into giggles as Rosie’s serious tone tipped everyone over the edge.

Jude, now laughing but still utterly bewildered, pulled Rosie into his lap, covering her face with kisses as she squealed with delight. “You little traitor!” he teased, tickling her until she shrieked with laughter. “Even you’re turning against me?”

Rosie wiggled in his arms, still giggling as she buried her face into his chest. “Dada in trouble!” she squeaked, clearly enjoying the attention and the fact that she had somehow been part of the big prank.

You wiped the tears from your eyes, finally catching your breath. “You should’ve seen your face, Jude. You looked like you were trying to figure out if you’d broken the law or something!”

Jude shook his head, though his smile was wide and affectionate. “I genuinely thought I’d forgotten something major, like our anniversary or Rosie’s birthday or—I don’t even know!” He laughed, running a hand through his hair again. “You got me good, I’ll give you that.”

Denise, still recovering from her laughter, smiled warmly at you. “That was brilliant, darling. You’ve officially outdone yourself.”

Mark nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen Jude look so lost in my life. Well done.”

Jobe, who had been leaning back on the couch with a smug grin, chimed in. “I’ll give you points for execution, but honestly, Rosie’s line took it to a whole new level. That was gold.”

Rosie, still sitting in Jude’s lap, seemed to sense that she had become the star of the show. She smiled proudly, looking up at her father with wide eyes. “I got you, Dada,” she said softly, and Jude’s heart melted on the spot.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a big hug. “Yeah, you did, little one. You’re too smart for your own good.”

You couldn’t help but feel a swell of warmth in your chest as you watched the scene unfold. What had started as a lighthearted prank had turned into one of those perfect family moments—filled with love, laughter, and the kind of joy that only comes from being surrounded by the people who matter most.

Jude leaned back, cradling Rosie against his chest, and gave you a playful look. “You realize this means war, right? There’s no way I’m letting you get away with this.”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, if you think you’re getting away with pranks this easily, you’re in for a surprise.”

Mark, who had returned to his newspaper, chuckled quietly. “Careful, son. She’s got Rosie on her side. You don’t stand a chance.”

Jobe snickered. “Yeah, man. You’re outnumbered.”

Denise, always the peacemaker, leaned forward and patted Jude’s knee. “Well, at least now you know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a prank. I’d say it builds character.”

Jude groaned dramatically but squeezed Rosie a little tighter, his playful eyes never leaving yours. “I guess this is what I get for falling in love with a prankster.”

You leaned in closer, your voice soft but teasing. “And don’t forget, I’ve got the ultimate prank partner right here.” You gestured toward Rosie, who had already snuggled into Jude’s chest, her tiny hand gripping his shirt as she started to doze off after all the excitement.

Jude smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Yeah, yeah. I guess if it’s you two, I can handle a little trouble.”

As the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the cozy living room, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the simple joys of family life. The prank had been a success, sure, but more than that, it was moments like these—filled with love, laughter, and the people you loved most—that made everything feel just right.

And as you snuggled up next to Jude, Rosie sound asleep in his arms, you knew that no matter what, these were the moments that would stick with you forever.

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 9

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance between a princess and her bodyguard leads to a dramatic wedding, but their happiness is soon overshadowed by political intrigue and betrayal, testing their love and resolve.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on : Ko-fi 🙏🏻please, please please.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Watching the former queen leave the palace felt surreal. But seeing the king lose his composure, even for a moment, made it all worth it.

Perhaps Alicia's return stirred something in Leonard. Did her presence remind him of who he used to be? Does he feel guilt for taking the life of the former king and his siblings?

Leonard clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated, but he couldn't do anything since she was a diplomatic guest.

"Welcome to the family," he said, tapping Bucky's shoulder. "As of today, you're officially part of royalty."

Bucky stood tall, his expression composed despite the turmoil of the evening. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will do my best to honor the family name and uphold my duties."

Leonard gave a curt nod, his gaze still clouded. "Now, go find my daughter. She must be shocked by the uninvited guest."

Bucky nodded and quickly left to find you.

He asked one of the guards outside, "Where is she?"

The guard hesitated, clearly nervous. "She went back to her chambers, sir," he stuttered, quickly correcting himself. "I'm sorry—Your Majesty."

Bucky didn't waste another moment. He hurried down the corridor toward your chambers, the tension from the evening still weighing on him. When he reached your door, he found the room shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the window.

His eyes fell on you, lying across the bed, already passed out from the alcohol. He sighed heavily, a mix of relief and sorrow flooding him. Today was supposed to be the day both of you had longed for, the day that sealed your love. But it didn't feel that way—not with all the chaos and the looming weight of what had happened.

Walking over quietly, Bucky knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your tear-streaked face. His hand lingered on your cheek, and his heart ached for you. You had endured so much, and now, instead of celebrating together, you were drowning in grief and confusion.

He gently wiped away the remnants of tears. He wanted to protect you from all this, but somehow, it all seemed to follow you both, no matter how hard he tried. Today should have been filled with joy, yet it felt as if the very world had turned its back on the happiness you deserved.

👑👑👑👑

The next morning, you woke with a pounding headache, groaning as the light filtered through the curtains. As you blinked your eyes open, you noticed several servants standing around your bed, their faces full of uncertainty.

"Why are you all surrounding me like this?" you asked, your voice groggy.

"Your Highness," one of the servants said nervously, "today... you're scheduled to leave for your honeymoon?"

You widened your eyes in shock and threw your head back onto the pillow with a frustrated sigh. The last thing you wanted right now was a honeymoon. You felt exhausted—mentally and physically.

"Where is my husband?" you muttered, rubbing your temples to ease the headache.

"With the king," the servant replied.

"Fuck," you murmured under your breath.

Reluctantly, you got out of bed, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The servants hurried to help you get ready, brushing your hair, and helping you into a more appropriate outfit for the day. But despite their efforts, you felt sluggish, your mood foul as you tugged on your shoes and stormed out of the room.

You ran through the halls toward the dining room, your steps quick and determined. As you pushed the heavy doors open, you were greeted by the sight of King Leonard and your newlywed husband, Bucky, sitting together at the table. The tension between them was palpable, though Bucky remained composed.

Leonard’s eyes flicked toward you as you entered, his smirk just as arrogant as ever. “Ah, here comes the bride. I trust you slept well?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

You shot him a sharp look. “Not particularly,” you muttered.

Leonard chuckled lightly, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Well, I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to rest on your honeymoon. You’re leaving shortly, after all. I wish you both a safe and pleasant trip.”

Bucky stood up, offering you his arm, his expression neutral though you could feel the tension radiating from him. “Shall we?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated for a moment but then linked your arm with his, glancing up at him. Together, the two of you walked toward the palace doors, with Leonard trailing behind. As expected, a crowd of press and citizens had gathered outside, their cheers and shouts echoing across the courtyard. They were here for the young newlywed couple—their eyes full of admiration and hope for a perfect royal love story.

Though you still felt tired and irritated, you forced a smile, waving at the crowd. Bucky followed suit, his arm still linked with yours as he raised his hand to acknowledge the people.

Once you reached the helicopter, the cheers faded into the background. Bucky slid into his seat, fastening his seatbelt, but he could feel the cold air between you. You had been giving him the silent treatment, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

As you reached for your own seatbelt, it was Leonard who stepped in to assist you. You let him fasten it, though the gesture felt awkward. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Stay at peace while I'm gone,” you warned, your tone sharp but laced with exhaustion.

Leonard chuckled, his grin smug. “You never know,” he said, his voice low with hidden meaning.

You glared at him one last time before settling into your seat, the sound of the helicopter’s blades whirring loudly as it prepared for takeoff. Though you were now on your way to what was supposed to be a joyful honeymoon, the weight of everything lingered in the air between you and Bucky.

As the helicopter soared through the sky, the silence between you and Bucky was thick and heavy. He glanced over at you several times, noticing how your eyes were already closed, your head resting against the seat. You looked peaceful, but he knew better. There was a tension beneath that calm exterior—a storm waiting to break.

Bucky’s emotions were all over the place. He had thought this day would be different. After all the time you both had waited, after the struggles and secret glances, this was supposed to be your moment.

But instead, it felt hollow. His chest tightened as he replayed everything that had happened, from the uninvited guest to the strange distance you now put between the two of you. He couldn’t help but feel helpless, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had suddenly grown.

On the other hand, you were drowning in your own thoughts. Behind your closed eyelids, memories of the past day swirled in your mind. Everything felt off. You were supposed to be celebrating your love, but it felt like the world around you was falling apart.

After what felt like hours, the helicopter began its descent, landing softly on a lush green field. You opened your eyes to see the sprawling beauty of the resort that would be your honeymoon destination.

You had hoped for somewhere far away, but Leonard had other plans, citing safety concerns. At least this place was special—a resort with several private islands. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway, secluded from the rest of the world.

The resort’s staff greeted you and Bucky with utmost care, ensuring everything was perfect for the newlywed royal couple. After checking that everything was in place, the managers and employees finally left, leaving the two of you alone on your private island.

The air between you remained tense as Bucky stood near the window, watching you move around the room. The silence was deafening.

“Are you going to continue ignoring me?” Bucky’s voice broke the quiet, his tone low but firm.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of rum, searching through the ice bucket. Your hands moved mechanically, trying to find something to numb the unease creeping up your spine.

Suddenly, Bucky grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Stop it,” he said softly but with authority. His blue eyes searched yours. “I’ll answer it. Whatever you need to know, just ask.”

You paused, the rum bottle slipping from your grasp and landing with a soft thud on the counter. Your chest rose and fell with frustration.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning to face him fully, but the hurt in your eyes was unmistakable.

Bucky exhaled deeply, his grip loosening but not letting go completely. Both of you stood there, a heartbeat away from what could either be a breakthrough or another layer of distance.

Both of you sat across from each other, the tension in the room palpable. Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. His eyes locked onto yours, determined, but there was also a flicker of doubt. He knew he couldn’t drag this out any longer.

"I started the coup d'état," he finally said, his voice low but steady.

The moment those words left his mouth, it felt like a thunderclap in your ears. Your heart pounded as you processed the confession, your mind racing to catch up with the weight of what he had just said.

"Bucky, what the fuck?" you snapped, disbelief and anger flashing in your eyes.

“I know... I know,” Bucky said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm the rising storm. "But we—I mean, me and the others—had one goal: to make the king step down. That’s it.”

You let out a frustrated groan, rubbing your temples as if that could somehow ease the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “Bucky, I love you to death, but what you did was stupid.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I did it for us! And for the victims of that tyrant king!”

You couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The king—your father—had left a trail of victims in his wake. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled the horror that had befallen your family. “The king killed his three older siblings, along with their spouses and children,” you said, your voice trembling. “My cousins... they’re all gone because of him.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, hearing the pain in your voice, but he didn’t speak. He knew the reality of your father’s cruelty, but it was different hearing it from you.

“He was a no one,” you continued, your voice thick with disbelief. “And yet he became the king that everyone fears.” You stared at the ground, the weight of your father’s reign heavy on your shoulders. “He knew his weaknesses, and the people who supported him exploited them.”

"What made me even more furious," you continued, your voice sharp with betrayal, "is that I’m the future queen, yet I had no idea what was happening in my own country. My husband turned out to be the leader of a coup d’état, and my father—the tyrant king—knew it before I did!"

You lifted your head, locking eyes with Bucky, frustration lacing your tone. “I’m your wife, but you left me in the dark!”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his mouth opening to defend himself, but you weren’t finished.

Your words hung in the air like a dark cloud. Bucky looked at you, his expression torn between regret and defiance. You both sat there in a tense silence for a moment, the weight of everything settling between you.

Finally, you sighed, leaning back in your chair as exhaustion overtook your frustration. “I’ve been living in a bubble,” you admitted quietly.

Bucky leaned forward, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “I didn’t want to leave you out of it. I thought... I thought I was protecting you.”

He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly struggling with the gravity of the situation. “I did it for us—for a better future. You know the kind of man your father is. I couldn’t just sit by and let him continue.”

You looked at him, the raw emotion in his eyes matching your own. Despite everything, you knew his intentions had come from a place of love, no matter how misguided they were.

“I get it,” you said, your voice softer now. “I understand why you did what you did. But you should have trusted me, Bucky. I should’ve been part of this.”

Bucky reached out, taking your hands in his. “You’re right,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you.”

You squeezed his hands, feeling some of the tension start to dissolve. “We’re supposed to face things together, not alone,” you said softly.

“I know. And from now on, we will,” Bucky promised, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.

You both sat there for a moment, the silence no longer oppressive but comforting. You had reached an understanding, even if the road ahead was still uncertain. There was still love between you—love strong enough to survive even this.

As the tension between you and Bucky began to ease, you both found solace in the quiet moments of your honeymoon. Finally, it was just the two of you, no more secrets or unspoken words hanging over your heads. The weight of everything slowly lifted as you immersed yourselves in the beauty of the private island.

The days were filled with a tranquil bliss, the warm sun kissing your skin as you and Bucky strolled along the secluded beaches. The turquoise waves lapped gently at the shore, creating a soothing backdrop to your peaceful escape. You’d often find yourselves on the balcony of your villa, overlooking the ocean, wrapped in each other's arms as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Bucky had his arm around you as you leaned into his chest, both of you quietly enjoying the view. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“Me too,” you agreed, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. For the first time in a long while, you felt safe and content, the weight of the past slowly fading into the background.

You and Bucky spent your days exploring the island—swimming in the crystal-clear waters, relaxing in hammocks under the shade of palm trees, and sharing intimate dinners under the stars. His laughter was lighter now, and your smiles were genuine. There was no need to rush; this one month of vacation belonged to the two of you.

At night, Bucky would hold you close as the two of you talked about the future, making plans that seemed so far away now but filled you both with hope. The warmth of his body, the way he kissed your forehead before you both drifted to sleep—it made everything feel right again.

But on the last day of your honeymoon, that peace was shattered.

The morning had started quietly enough. After breakfast, you and Bucky curled up on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV. As you turned on the news, something caught your attention. The usual cheerful headlines were gone, replaced by the stark seriousness of a breaking news broadcast.

The image of King Leonard, standing behind a podium, filled the screen. The sight of him immediately sent a chill down your spine. You could feel the air shift, the sense of foreboding creeping in.

Leonard stepped closer to the microphone, his expression grim. He paused for a moment, scanning the audience, before leaning in and saying, “We’re going to war.”

Your heart stopped. For a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"What the fuck?" you and Bucky blurted out at the same time, both of you staring at the screen in disbelief.

Bucky's face hardened, his hands clenching into fists. "This can't be happening," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood up, pacing in front of the TV.

You swallowed hard, trying to process what you just heard, but dread weighed heavily on your chest. The peaceful bubble of your honeymoon had been shattered, replaced by a terrifying uncertainty. War meant everything would change—and not for the better.

Bucky stopped pacing and looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “We need to go back.”

You nodded slowly, your mind racing. “I knew something was off,” you murmured, fear creeping into your voice. “But war?”

Neither of you could believe it, yet the reality was there, staring at you from the screen.

The honeymoon was over.

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[pedroshotwifey]

hi wifey , may i please have some old jackson joel fluff (his long hair drives me crazy and I need him so bad)

Okay babe omg I so got you!! Ty for sending me something to play with! 😋

May not be the best, but it’s something :) I present to you:

Giving Jackson!Joel a Bath After a Long Day (G)

W/C: 604

(Complete reader insert other than mentioned hair)

Alright so imagine Joel coming home from a long day of patrol—longer than usual thanks to a small horde of clickers he and his group found that morning. Because it’s so abnormally late, he’s exhausted and expecting to just rinse off in the shower and join you in bed, hoping to God that you aren’t going to be upset with him for having to stay out longer….

What he doesn’t know is that you’re still up, waiting patiently for the bathtub to fill up to the perfect point with warm water because you know he’ll be returning soon.

He doesn’t know that, as he carefully kicks his work boots off by the door, you’re lighting a gallery of candles and spreading them carefully around the tub and on the bathroom counter. 

He has no idea that, as he slowly climbs the stairs, his muscles aching and straining with each painful step, you’re shutting the water off and turning out the light to let the candles cast a warm and comfortable glow. 

He’s confused for a moment when he walks into your bedroom to find your shared bed empty—scared that you really may be mad. But then he catches a soft whiff of your vanilla candles. He takes short steps into the bathroom and just about melts in the doorway when he takes in the sight of you sitting on a short stool by the tub, surrounded by rose petals and candles.

You have one of his flannels on, one of your favorites to wear when you’re missing him. The sleeves are rolled up, your hair is out of your face, a soft smile plays on your lips. You’ve been waiting for him. 

“Hey, baby,” you invite him in. “Let me help you relax?” 

If Joel was any more tired, he’d probably cry. Luckily, he’s awake enough to instead take the few steps to you, cup your cheeks, and lean down to kiss your forehead. His lips are gentle as his grip, like you’re a delicate flower all too easy to maim. 

You both bask in comfortable silence as you help Joel undress and lower himself into the tub. You’ve even put bubbles in, which he lets out a light chuckle about. His eyes fall shut as the water surrounds him, relieving his protesting muscles.

You’re gentle as you scrub him down with a washcloth and your favorite soap, worshiping each beautiful part of him with equal admiration. You know he likes the smell of it, as much as he hates to admit it. 

Kind and loving words are passed through eye contact, neither of you wanting to break the trance you’ve created quite yet. You know each other intimately enough to understand the meaning behind every glance and stare. 

Whereas he would usually try to brush you off, he lets you comb through the tangles in his long, graying curls. You, again, use your shampoo and conditioner, and he says nothing against it. He breathes in the scent deeply, relaxing further into your touch. 

When you’re done, you plant a soft kiss to his lips, and when you pull away, you find a vulnerability in Joel’s eyes that tells you more than words ever could. He doesn’t have to use his voice to make you understand that you’re the first to care for him like this—the first to want to care for him like this. 

He refuses to dress after drying off, instead carrying you to bed and cuddling up with you so that his body can hold yours. Your heartbeats dance together in the darkness, the gentle patter settling you both to sleep.

[devil-in-hiding]

John loves his boys, and he loves you. He loves being a provider, he loves taking care of his girl and boyfriends. He’d do absolutely anything for them, he’d go to hell and back if he had too. But sometimes it does get a bit exhausting. Always being the one to keep the others in line, always giving them punishments or pleasure. Don’t get him wrong, he does love his role in the polycule, but sometimes he just wants to be the bottom for a change. He wants to be the one who all the attentions on, who everyone’s working to pleasure, sometimes he wants to give up his control. 

But he feels bad asking his partners for that. He can’t exactly explain why, but he does. So he shoves that urge deep down, denying himself of it so he can instead focus on the needs of his lovers. 

They can all tell of course. They can see the change in his demeanour, the slight shift in his tone. They can feel how his touch on them is less commanding and more needy, the way he speaks to them is less final more pleading. And one night, after a long day, they notice he’s especially like this. So the four of you decide it’s time you all take care of him for a change.

He’s sitting on the porch, cigar in one hand a glass of whiskey in the other. He looks out towards the vast forest surrounding the farm, listening to the quite sounds of the crickets and birds. You approach him first, sitting down next to him on the steps of the porch and placing a soft hand on his forearm.

“Hey sweet boy, how you doing hmm?” You ask him quietly, smiling up at him.

Even just the slightest touch from you is sending the blood straight to his cock, but he tries to act normal as he clears his throat, “‘m good love, what’s on your mind?”

Simon’s the next to come out, sitting on the other side of John and placing a firm hand on his thigh, “Ya sure yer doin’ alright sir?” He asks gruffly, causing the older man’s attention to fall all on him.

“Course I’m fine, what’s this all ‘bout-?”

Before he can finish speaking Kyle joins you three. He plops down right behind John, putting his arms around the man’s shoulders and leaning in to kiss the bank of his neck.

“Y’seem stressed love. We just wanna make you feel better.” Kyle whispers softly against him. And as he speaks you and Simon both tighten the grips you have on him, stroking his skin gently.

“Ya do so much for us, s’only fair we return the favour.” Johnny says cheerfully as he comes outside, forcing his way into Johns lap. 

“Come on sweetheart, let’s go inside, let’s us take care of you tonight.” You say softly to him, a sweet smile on your face.

And all John can bring himself to do is nod his head, completely at a loss for words. Simon takes the cigar from his hand, putting it out in the ashtray as Johnny takes the whiskey and shoots it back before standing up. You all gently coerce John to his feet, and lead him back inside to your shared bedroom. 

When you get through the door, Simon gently pushes John down, forcing him to sit on the bed. The remaining three of you all round the bed, crawling up to the mattress to surround him.

“So, here’s how this is going to work okay honey?” You coo softly in his ear, your hands wandering around his body, “Simon’s going to fuck you. He’s going to come deep inside your ass, as you watch me play with Johnny. Then Kyle’s going to have his turn with you, he’s going to use Simon’s cum as lube, as he fucks your sore hole, and I force Johnnys head down onto your cock. And as he’s choking on you, and Kyle’s pounding himself into you, Simon’s going get me all stretched out for you. And after you’ve come down Johnny’s throat, and Kyle’s filled you up, you’re going to sit on my face. I’m going eat their cum out of you, and when you’re finally all empty, then you’re going to be allowed to fuck me. And maybe, if you’re extra good, Johnny will fuck you too. Does that sound good?”

The older man is at a complete loss for words. He’s staring at you, open mouthed and dumbfounded expression on his face. He tries to speak, but he can’t, so instead he just nods, a desperate moan making its way up his throat. “Please…”

-🫧

BABE YOU ARE DENYING THE PEOPLE YOUR AMAZING MIND

YOU WOULD BE SO LOVED

[hoe4hotchner]

The Beauty of Us | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader CW: This is the sickly sweet fluff fic I was talking about, wedding, also no dialogue in this one. WC: 1.6k

I have not proof read this at all - I couldn't stop crying 😅 It's probably also me yapping a lot about the same thing.

           The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the elegant reception hall, casting a warm, golden hue over the guests gathered to celebrate the union of you and Aaron. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their delicate prisms scattering light like stars across the room, while exquisite floral arrangements adorned each table, filling the space with a heady scent of roses and lilies. The atmosphere was alive with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the gentle hum of conversation, all blending seamlessly with the sweet notes of a live string quartet playing softly in the background. Yet, despite the lively celebration surrounding you, your attention was solely focused on Aaron.

           As the first notes of the song you had chosen for your first dance began to play, the world around you faded into a gentle blur. Aaron stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a thrill through your heart. You felt as if time had suspended itself, the noise and bustle of the celebration slipping away, leaving only the two of you in your own bubble of intimacy. He reached for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring as he guided you toward the center of the dance floor.

           Once there, he pulled you close, your bodies fitting together effortlessly as if they were always meant to be. You could feel the heat radiating from him, each heartbeat echoing in the shared space between you. As you melted into his embrace, your heart swelled with emotion, filling every corner of your being. The song enveloped you like a soft blanket, its melody wrapping around you both as you swayed gently to the rhythm, lost in the magic of the moment. You breathed in the scent of him - a fresh cologne - and felt utterly at home in his arms, surrounded by a cocoon of love and warmth that made the world outside feel impossibly far away.

           "When it’s all over, when the world is gone, I’ll die with a smile."

           As Aaron spun you into his arms, the world around you blurred, and a flood of cherished memories washed over your mind - the very first time you met, his quick smile catching your attention across the crowded room; the quiet moments shared in his office, where the tension of the day melted away in the sanctuary of his presence; late-night conversations that lingered until the early hours of dawn, laughter and whispered secrets weaving a tapestry of intimacy between you. Each of those moments built a bridge to this one, a culmination of everything you had endured together - the challenges, the victories, the love that had blossomed amidst it all. His touch was both tender and possessive as if he were holding you tightly to ensure you would never escape.

           Your gaze traveled from his deep, soulful eyes to the way his hair fell just above his forehead, that small quirk of his you adored, and the way the corners of his lips curved into a soft, genuine smile whenever he looked at you, lighting up the dimness of the hall. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, a comforting reminder of the life you had built together, a testament to your shared journey.

           The world outside continued on, people laughing and celebrating, but for the two of you, time had come to a standstill. Aaron's strong hands found their place at your waist, his fingers gently but firmly pulling you even closer, and you leaned your head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him - something clean and comforting. You relished the moment, allowing yourself to be completely present in his embrace. The gentle movement of your bodies made you feel weightless as if you were floating on a cloud, suspended in a dream that you never wanted to end.

           "In the end, my love, I’ll always be there."

           You closed your eyes, allowing the music to seep into your soul, its melody wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The lyrics resonated deeply within your heart, weaving a beautiful promise that no matter what life threw your way, you would face it together. Each note carried the weight of your shared experiences, and you could hear the love and sincerity in every note, every word, echoing the unbreakable bond that tied you both together.

           As the song continued, you felt Aaron's fingers slide up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the gentle caress of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. The intimacy of that simple gesture made your heart flutter as if he were anchoring you to the moment. You looked up at him, and for a moment, you were utterly lost in the depths of his gaze - those dark, expressive eyes that held galaxies of emotion, filled with unwavering love and steadfast promise. It felt like a vow, spoken without words, assuring you that he would always be by your side.

           The memory of your journey together played like a montage in your mind, each moment a vivid snapshot of love and resilience. You recalled the challenges you had faced - the late nights spent discussing fears, the quiet strength he offered during your darkest days, and the laughter that filled your shared spaces, echoing like music against the walls of your hearts. The tears, the struggles, and the moments of pure joy that had brought you to this very day danced before your eyes, a testament to the life you were gonna build together.

           You remembered the first time he had called you "my wife" and how that simple title felt like a warm embrace, wrapping you in a sense of belonging that was both exhilarating and grounding. It was a reminder of the life you had chosen, a commitment that transcended words, and as you swayed gently in his arms, you felt the reality of that promise bloom between you.

           "Even if the sky falls down on me, I’ll die with a smile."

           The song reached its climax, the notes soaring high, and you could feel the energy of the crowd surging around you like a tide of joy and celebration. Laughter and applause filled the air, but all you could focus on was Aaron. His lips parted in a radiant smile that ignited a flutter deep within your heart, and in that precious moment, everything fell into place. You knew without a doubt that this was exactly where you were meant to be, wrapped up in each other’s arms amidst the warmth of love and companionship.

           You let the music guide you as you swayed in his arms, feeling every beat reverberate through your body like a heartbeat shared between two souls. The world around you blurred, and all that mattered was the way he held you - his strong arms anchoring you to the moment. You were enveloped in love, wrapped in the sweet certainty that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face it all together, side by side.

           As the song began to wind down, the final notes lingering in the air like the last rays of sunset, you and Aaron held each other tightly, as if the world could crumble around you, and you wouldn’t mind as long as you had him. He brushed his lips gently against your forehead, a tender gesture that sent a wave of warmth cascading through you. You inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of him - a comforting aroma that spoke of home, safety, and love. It was a scent that you knew would linger in your memories long after this moment had passed.

           As the music faded away, the soft echoes of the final notes lingering in the air like whispers of sweet promises, you felt an overwhelming sense of contentment wash over you. You knew that this was just the beginning of your forever together, a beautiful journey that you would embark on hand in hand. And as you looked into his eyes, the depths of which reflected back your own joy and love, you couldn’t help but smile. You would always choose this love, this life - together, no matter where the road took you.

           As if drawn by an invisible force, your lips met in a kiss that was both sweet and passionate. His lips were warm and soft against yours, a perfect fit that made you feel as though you were melting into him. The taste of him - faintly minty from the gum he had chewed earlier - was intoxicating, and you found yourself craving more, deepening the kiss as you leaned into him, your body instinctively pressing closer.

           The kiss became a dance of its own, a rhythm that echoed the melody still humming in the background. His hands cradled your face, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as he tilted his head slightly, deepening the connection. You felt his heartbeat against your chest, a steady drum that matched the racing of your own. With every movement, every soft sigh that escaped you, the kiss transformed from a sweet caress to a passionate promise - a vow of love that transcended words.

           As the kiss lingered, time resumed its course. When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the world came back into focus, but everything was brighter and sharper. You rested your forehead against his, your heart still racing, a soft smile playing on your lips.

           In that lingering moment, you knew that the kiss had sealed your love in time. You would face the world together, hand in hand, forever intertwined. And with the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you felt the truth of your promise - you would always choose this love, this life - together.

[wzrd-wheezes]

Friday, I'm in Love - Remus Lupin x Reader

"Remus found himself visiting the shop more often and Y/N found herself looking forward to his unplanned but always promised visits." 

AN - I had this idea for a fic ages ago and it's taken me so long to write for some reason. I hope you enjoy n please give it a reblog if you do <3 I also have a lil list of songs that I listened to while writing this so let me know if you want me to post it

It was a slow morning, to say the least. Outside, the downpour was relentless, each raindrop drumming against the thin glass of the record shop’s front windows, blurring the already muted colours of the street beyond. The warm glow of the shop lights barely reached the pavement.  

Y/N hadn’t seen a customer in over an hour and the stillness had settled into a comfortable rhythm. She passed the time by meticulously arranging the coins in the till, the soft clinking sounds punctuating the quiet. The final notes of a record filled the room before slowing to a comforting crackle. Choosing the music that played instore was one of the few small joys on slow days. 

She wandered over to the old turntable, her fingers trailing along the edge of a weathered box of records. The sleeves, many of them worn and well-loved, slipped past her fingers as she thumbed through them. After a moment of contemplation, she settled on one, slipping it from its sleeve and setting it on the turntable, guiding the needle to the edge. The familiar crackle started once more, followed by the comforting notes of the music.  

Y/N hummed to herself as she wandered around the small shop, flitting between the shelves, straightening records, adjusting displays and dusting off the shelves. She was working alone today, however, she didn’t mind the solitude – there was something peaceful about the quiet, empty shop, surrounded by rows of records and the soft glow old the old lamps. With no one to talk to and no customers to serve, she settled herself back behind the till, pouring herself a fresh mug of coffee and perching on the counter behind her, reaching for her book that she kept stashed away. 

She had just settled into a good part of her book when the sharp jingle of the bell above the door startled her. She looked up, the shop’s quiet suddenly disrupted as a gust of cool, rain-scented air swept in. A man stepped inside shaking droplets from his coat as he paused in the doorway, taking in the warmth of the shop. 

For a moment, their eyes met and Y/N felt a flutter of surprise at the sudden presence. She closed her book softly, setting it aside as she slid off the counter. He was dripping from the rain, his jacket soaked through and his hair slightly dishevelled. His eyes scanned the room before they finally landed on her. He offered a small, almost sheepish smile as he stepped further inside. 

“Bloody horrible out there, isn’t it?” he said, his voice warm despite the miserable weather. He ran a hand through his damp hair, attempting to tame it as he gave her a lopsided grin.  

“Absolutely,” she agreed, “You can hang your jacket up while you look around if you like? There’s nothing worse than a soggy coat while you’re trying to shop.” she gestured towards the coat stand adjacent to the door.  

He smiled appreciatively, immediately taking her up on the offer and shedding the sodden jacket, revealing a rumpled jumper underneath.  

“Thank you. It’s nice to be out of the rain for a bit.” he said, his eyes flickering over the shelves of records that lined the walls. 

“Can I get you a coffee or anything? It’s only meant to be for staff, but you look like you could do with warming up.” 

He looked pleasantly surprised, a grateful smile spreading across his face. 

“That would be lovely, actually. As long as it won’t get you into trouble?” 

Y/N laughed shaking her head, “It’s only me in today and I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

He chuckled, clearly relieved, “Deal. I appreciate it.” 

With a nod, she moved behind the counter, grabbing the coffee pot from the warmer and pouring it into a clean mug. A moment later, she joined him by the shelves, handing him the steaming cup. 

“Here you go. Try not to spill any on the records - you’ll get me sacked and I actually quite like this job.” she teased.  

He took the mug with a grin, “I’ll try to be extra careful. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for your imminent unemployment.” 

“Glad to hear it. I’ll be over there,” she jutted her head towards the till, “Give me a shout if you need anything.” 

She watched him as he browsed; he was interesting to look at. His trousers were slightly too short for his lanky frame, and with every step they revealed glimpses of his mismatched socks. His hair, now starting to dry, was settling into soft waves. When she had handed him the mug, she had noticed that his hands were marked with white scars, matching the ones that adorned his face. He seemed absorbed in the records, flipping through them with a thoughtful expression. Occasionally, he would pause to examine a cover. After a short while, he approached the counter with a small stack of records in hand. 

 “I think I’ve found a few that might be worth a listen.” he set them down with a satisfied smile. 

“Yeah? Any particular mood you’re going for, or just exploring?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.  

“Just exploring. I haven’t bought any new ones in a while.” he shrugged. 

“Let’s see what you’ve picked, then.” she reached out, “I promise I won’t judge – at least, not to your face anyway.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll take my chances.” he leaned forward on the counter as he watched her inspect his choices. 

“Hey this is good one- Unknown Pleasures.” 

“Yeah? I’ve heard a couple songs, y’know on the radio and stuff. Thought I’d give it a proper go.” he pulled down the sleeves of his jumper over his hands, toying with a loose thread as he spoke to her, “What about this one? You listened to it?” 

She turned the album over in her hands, poring over the track list on the back. She frowned and shook her head. 

“I haven’t actually. Heard of it, but never gave it a listen.” she totted up his total as she spoken to him, “You’ll have to let me know if it’s worth a listen. 

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small pile of coins, dropping them into her outstretched palm as he counted them.  

“It’s been nice speaking to you.” he smiled sincerely at her, “Oh, and thanks again for the coffee.”  

“No worries at all. It’s nice having someone to chat to on slow days like today.” she glanced up at him and she put his money into the till, “Thanks for not spilling it all over the albums.”  

He grinned as he took the bag of records and headed towards the door, pausing momentarily to shrug his jacket back on. With one last nod in her direction, he pushed the door open and stepped back out into the rain, the shop once again settling into its quiet rhythm. 

A few weeks later, the weather had shifted from the relentless rain to a drearier drizzle. Inside, Y/N was immersed in sorting out a new batch of records behind the counter, the crackle of vinyl playing softly in the background. 

The familiar jingle of the doorbell caught her attention and she smiled to herself when she saw who it was. 

“Back already?” she grinned.  

“Couldn’t stay away apparently.” he stepped inside, shaking the rain from his umbrella and looking around with an appreciative nod, “I was just passing actually, thought I’d stop by and see what’s new.” 

This time, he looked more prepared for the weather, sliding his umbrella into the stand by the door. His hair was now tousled in a more deliberate way, though the sense of casual coolness in his clothes remained. 

“You’ve got great timing.” 

He cocked his head and looked at her quizzically, walking over to where she stood at the counter. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. We just got a delivery this morning. I’m just sorting through it if you want to take a look?” 

He nodded and moved to stand opposite her, resting his elbows on the wooden countertop. As he leaned in, his eyes focused on the box of records, his fingers lightly brushing over the album covers. 

He began to sift through the records, carefully flipping through the albums. As he examined each one, the two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation flowing easily. Every so often, they would both reach for a record at the same time, their fingers brushing against each other's. Each time, he would glance up with a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing slightly as he mumbled an apology.  

“I didn’t catch your name last time.” Y/N said, filling the silence, “I feel a bit rude not knowing it.” 

“Remus.” he looked up, eyes locking with hers, “and yours?” 

She smiled and pointed to the name badge pinned to her t-shirt. His cheeks tinged pink again and he quickly looked down at the album in his hands and then back to her. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m an idiot.” he laughed, “I should’ve noticed that.”  

She laughed softly, waving off his embarrassment, “You’re fine, don’t worry,” she said, her tone reassuring, then with a nod towards the album in his hands, she asked, “Any of them catch your eye?” 

They spent the next half an hour deeply immersed in a spirited discussion about music, bouncing from one artist to another. Remus’s enthusiasm was palpable; he could have spent hours delving into the intricacies of his favourite albums. His passion was evident in the way that he spoke, animated and engaged. He had taken to leaning forward, his forearms resting on the counter as he spoke to her.  

Eventually, he glanced up at the old clock hanging on the wall and realised how late it had gotten, “I should probably get going.” he said, reluctantly straightening up, “It’s been great talking music with you, though. Thanks for all the recommendations.” 

“Anytime. Small price to pay for having someone to talk to on a quiet shift.” she smiled, sliding the album he had bought into a bag. 

Remus came to the record store more and more often over the following months. They had settled into a familiar routine, discussing the merits of the latest addition to his collection and conversing about different genres and artists. Over the months, he had collected a plethora of albums: Ramones, David Bowie, The Cure, Fleetwood Mac, Joy Division. Anything that she recommended, he would buy and the next time he stopped by they would have a lengthy discussion about it. Remus found himself visiting the shop more often and Y/N found herself looking forward to his unplanned but always promised visits. 

One afternoon, they were having a fairly heated discussion. Y/N had hoisted herself up on the counter behind the till, and Remus was leaning forward, propped up on his elbows on the counter facing her.  

“I mean, you can’t deny the impact of Three Imaginary Boys,” Remus said, “It’s got that sort of gritty edge that you don’t get in their later stuff.” 

Y/N shook her head, her eyes sparkling with conviction, “I get that, but sometimes it’s not about the sound it’s about how the music makes you feel. With their later stuff it’s like they took all of that energy and polished it and made it into something great.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow, the scar across his lip stretching as he smirked, “Are you saying that because you think its natural progression, or just because you’re a fan of their later stuff?” 

“Both.” she replied with a grin. 

Their voices were animated, the shop’s usual quiet atmosphere was replaced with the lively exchange, each of them passionately defending their point with the occasional joking jab to the other.  

As the conversation continued, Y/N shifted her position slightly, causing a stack of records to wobble precariously. Remus’s lanky frame stretch across the counter, straining to try and steady them. Their hands brushed briefly, lingering for a moment longer than usual. They exchanged a quick, knowing glance before returning to their previous positions. 

“Do you want to go out for a drink or something sometime?” Remus blurted the words out before he even realised what he was saying. 

Y/N paused, her eyes widening slightly as she processed the sudden, unexpected offer. Remus’s face flushed a deep shade of red, and he fumbled with the album he was holding, suddenly very interested in the cover. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he stammered, feeling a wave of embarrassment, “I just thought it might be nice to hang out outside the shop, y’know, when you’re not working and being paid to talk music with me.” 

Y/N smiled at his nervous rambling, “I’d like that. It sounds like a lot of fun.” 

Relief washed over Remus, and he looked up, meeting her eyes with a hopeful grin, “Really? Brilliant. I wasn’t sure if it was too forward or-” 

“No, not at all.” she cut off his worry before he could spiral, “Friday?” 

Friday afternoon arrived faster than Remus had anticipated, and by the time he reached the bar, his nerves had crept back in. The bar was warm and dimly lit, with old wooden beams and music humming from a jukebox tucked in the corner. As he stepped inside, he scanned the room and spotted Y/N almost immediately. She was seated near the window, her fingers drumming against the scrubbed wooden table as she stared out of the window. 

“Sorry, I’m late. The rain-” he wiped his palms nervously against his jeans. 

“You’re not late, don’t worry. I’m early if anything.” she gestured to the seat opposite her, inviting him to sit down. 

Relieved, Remus nodded and slipped into the chair, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit, “Good, I was worried I’d kept you waiting.” 

“Not at all.” she assured him, “Besides, it gave me time to order us some drinks.” She gestured to the table, where two glasses awaited, “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of choosing something for us.” 

It was strange seeing him outside the context of the record store. The casual way he carried himself was different from his usual, more reserved demeanour. As he picked up his drink to take a sip, Y/N’s eyes drifted up to the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear. 

“S’a nervous habit.” he said, catching her looking and smiling ruefully. 

“So,” Y/N started, leaning in slightly with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Are you prepared to defend all your music opinions tonight, or are we calling a truce?” 

Remus laughed, “I didn’t come here unarmed, but I’ll call a truce—for now.” 

He glanced over at the jukebox in the corner, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins, sliding them across the table to Y/N with a playful grin.  

“Here.” he said, “Why don’t you go and pick something? I’m pretty sure that we’ve just heard the same two songs on loop. Unless, of course, you have a soft spot for cheesy ballads?” 

“Please, I’ve got better taste than that.” she raised an eyebrow as she took the coins, “Although the thought of making you sit through Total Eclipse of the Heart isn’t entirely unappealing.” 

Remus chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he watched her stand, “I’ll be on my best behaviour then,” he replied, “No one deserves that kind of torture.” 

Y/N made her way to the jukebox, scanning the selection, taking her time as she pondered her choices. After a moment, she made her pick and returned to the table with a triumphant smile. 

“Your ears are safe for now,” she said, sliding back into her seat, “I went with something a little less torturous.” 

“You always get bonus points for Bowie,” Remus smiled, looking at her over the top of his glass, “Good call.” 

Y/N’s knee bumped against Remus’s as she shifted in her seat. Instead of immediately pulling away, Remus remained still, their legs pressed together. The contact lingered as Y/N glanced at him, her cheeks warming slightly. She could feel the gentle pressure of his leg against hers and the warmth it brought. 

Remus looked over at her, his gaze soft and a bit uncertain. He could feel his heart rate pick up, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into the contact. 

As the evening continued, their closeness remained, the subtle touch of their legs became a quiet reminder of the connection they were building. Each time one of them would go up to put a song on the jukebox, the small movement seemed almost rehearsed. They would slip back into their seat, their legs resuming their previous position almost instinctively.  

“I think we’ve exhausted every good song on the jukebox.” Y/N noted an hour or so later, returning to the table once again.  

“I thought the exact same thing-” his voice trailed off as the song that began playing caught his ear, “You promised no cheesy ballads!”  

Y/N held her hands up in mock surrender, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I never promised.” she said, leaning in slightly, “I just couldn’t help winding you up a bit.” 

“I should have known better.” Remus shook his head jokingly, “And I’ve ran out of change so I can’t put something else on.” 

“You’re joking.” Y/N’s eyes widened, “I just used the last of mine as well. I refuse to let Total Eclipse of the Heart be the last song we hear tonight.”  

Y/N drained the last of her drink her eyebrows knitting together as she thought. Remus fidgeted in his seat, reaching his hand up to rub at the back of his neck nervously. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before the words finally came out. 

“Why don’t you come back to mine?” 

The words hung in the air for a moment, both of them surprised by his sudden boldness. He quickly added, “I mean, only if you want to. I don’t know if you know this but I have a pretty good record collection.” he let out a shaky laugh. 

“Oh, yeah?” she leaned forward a little, eyes sparkling, “I wonder where you got those from.” 

As they walked, Remus began to explain, almost apologetically, that he shared his place with two friends. He spoke casually, describing the flat as small and a bit cluttered. His tone was slightly self-deprecating as he mentioned the occasional mess, but he assured her that it wasn’t too chaotic.  

“Luckily they’re out tonight, at a party of something.” he mused, “otherwise they’d talk your ear off as soon as you stepped through the door.” 

“Are you not a party kind of person then?”  

“Absolutely not.” Remus dug around in his pocket for his keys, retrieving them with a jingle and unlocked the door. Remus ushered her up the stairs almost immediately. 

“Would’ve made them tidy up downstairs if I had planned this properly.” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “At least I know that my room is somewhat clean.” 

Y/N smiled at him reassuringly, following him into his bedroom. She didn’t know Remus all too well, but his room was the pure essence of him. His bed was pushed up against one wall, a cosy mess of sheets and blankets, a wooden bedside table sat proudly beside it, a stack of books perched precariously on top.  

Y/N made a beeline for the record player that sat in the corner of the room, two boxes of records placed on the floor beside it.  

“Mind if I put something on?” she asked, beginning to flick through the albums before he could answer. 

“Go for it,” he smiled, “I’ll go get us a drink while you choose.” 

Remus’s heart was racing a little as he walked down to the kitchen. She was in his room and he didn’t know what to do. He was so comfortable around her in the confines of the record shop, but now she was here, in his space, looking through his records and smiling at him in a way that made his heart melt. 

“Pull yourself together, idiot.” he muttered as he crossed to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of beer.  

When Remus came back into the room, bottles in hand, he couldn’t help but grin at the sight before him. Y/N was sat cross legged on the floor, completely absorbed in the albums she had spread out around her. A pile of records rested in her lap as she sifted through them, occasionally pausing to inspect a cover or read the tracklist on the back. The warm glow of the lamp on his bedside table cast a soft glow over the scene, making everything feel somehow more intimate and familiar.  

He cleared his throat softly, handing her one of the beers as he sat down on the floor next to her, trying to mask the nervous energy still buzzing in his chest. 

“You’ve got a pretty solid collection her,” she said, raising her bottle in appreciation. 

“Thanks.” he replied with a slight chuckle, though he knew most of those records had come from her recommendations. 

She slid one of the records from its sleeve, glancing at him briefly before getting up to place it on the turntable. The needle dropped, and soon enough, the low hum of music filled the room, ground the quiet tension between them. 

As she sat back down, their knees brushed again, but this time, neither of them pulled away. Instead, they both stayed in the easy closeness. Y/N turned her head slightly to meet his gaze, catching him staring at her. He quickly looked away, a soft blush creeping up his neck. She smiled to herself, leaning back on her hands. 

“Y’know you have a couple of doubles?” she said after a moment. 

“Hm?” Remus blinked, looking over at her. 

“Yeah.” she grinned, holding up two identical copies of Lonon Calling, “When I was looking through, I noticed you’ve got quite a few albums twice. D’you keep spares or something?” 

Remus let out a nervous laugh, rubbing a hand across his face, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, “Yeah, uh.. About that.” 

Y/N tilted her head, her grin widening. “What? You just really love The Clash?” 

He sighed, giving her a sheepish look, “Not exactly. I, uh... ran out of records I wanted to buy.” 

“So, you just bought the same ones again?” her brows furrowed together. 

“I didn’t want to stop coming in.” Remus’s gaze was fixed on the floor. 

Her smile softened as the meaning behind his words sank in, “You didn’t want to stop coming in?” she repeated, her tone teasing but gentle.  

Remus nodded, eyes still on the floor as if he wished it would just swallow him whole, “Yeah. I mean, the records were a good excuse, but.. It was more about seeing you.” 

Y/Nfelt her cheeks warm. She hadn’t been expecting him to admit it so openly, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, trying to ease the tension. 

“You could’ve just said you wanted to see me, y’know. Would’ve saved you some money.” she teased.  

He let out a shaky laugh, finally looking up to meet her eyes, “Yeah, well, hindsight’s a wonderful thing.”  

“Well, for the record,” she held up one of his albums playfully, “You didn’t need a reason to come back. I would’ve liked seeing you anyway.” 

Remus blinked, surprised by the ease with which she said it, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” her voice was softer, almost shy now, “I thought that was obvious.” 

They stayed there in the quiet for a moment, their legs still touching, the air between them thick with something unspoken.  

“Don’t supposed you kept your receipts?” Y/N turned to face him. 

He laughed, shaking his head, “Nah. I wasn’t exactly thinking that far ahead.” 

Without thinking, Y/N leaned in, and Remus found himself tilting his head slightly to meet her halfway. Their lips brushed together softly at first, one of Remus’s hands trailing up to cup the side of her face in his hand. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breathless smiles lighting up their faces. 

“You’re a bit of an idiot, y’know that?” she teased. 

“Yeah... probably.” he just smiled and kissed her again. 

[kayfaae]

Hi,

could you please write a Hannibal one-shot, where Hannibal is Will‘s substitute as an FBI teacher as long as Will is in prison and he falls in love with one of the students? She is one of the best in her class and he also sees she is attracted to him, so he asks her to stay after class?

Polarizing

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x female reader

Details: smut, (reader mid 20's), teacher/student, foreplay, mentions of gore

Minors DNI, 18+

Flashes of the overhead's images on the wall made your eyes squint slightly from the brightness, each photo depicting different scenarios of the surrounding area's murder sprees. You're used to seeing such explicit imagery, though sometimes an image or two will make your skin crawl with discomfort. But you haven't been called the best of your class for nothing, always rising to the top and taking on the challenge with no complaint. The other FBI students were slightly jealous of your natural academic mind, but they also looked up to you for guidance on their own performances.

And Hannibal took note of this.

It was no secret to yourself that you have felt infatuation for the new professor, already knowing of him since he was your former teacher's psychiatrist. You've heard nothing but great things, some even of gossips of how entrancing he was, like a Greek God that stalked the school's concrete walls. It was hard NOT to feel some type of attraction to him. And for the other student's, they had felt the same way.

He was a masterpiece.

But little did you know, that the masterpiece before you thought of the same when it came to you. Which if you were to find out, thought it was absolutely ridiculous. You, of all people, a meek, tired little thing who had an obsession with black coffee to keep you going through the day. To him however, this was a breath of fresh air, and one he would gladly inhale for the rest of his days.

"Now, can anyone tell me why the killer decided to have such a intricate display of the victim's body? Do we have any idea of what the killer was inspired by?"

Hannibal's eyes trace the crowded room with a raised brow, silence filling the air and the occasional tap of a nervous pencil. You sighed to yourself quietly, knowing that if no one blurted out the answer, it was most likely going to fall upon your shoulders. Your hand then raises upward embarrassingly, some eyes rolling because of course the best in the class knew the answer.

How this excited Hannibal.

"Perhaps the killer was inspired by Shakespeare's Macbeth, the drowning of Ophelia? It could be indicated by the water lilies that surround her body, a common flower connected to water and innocence. The opening of her chest could also indicate that she died of a broken heart, plus she is under a willow tree, where the famous Ophelia fell."

More silence filled the air, a cough from someone sounding before Hannibal gave a smile of excitement. "Excellent, precisely. The killer was obviously inspired by the famous Poet, which seems to also be the case when it comes to any serial killer really. Artistry, is the main innovation for their motives."

Your eyes connect for what seems like an eternity, small breaths escaping your parting lips with the harsh fluttering of your beating heart.

Were you, the Ophelia, about to fall into darkness?

The ringing of the bell caused you to jolt in surprise, the rustling of bags and paperwork filling the room as everyone began to depart to their next field. You couldn't stop the slight trembling of your fingers as you pull your things together, the last student's footstep leaving the room before you hear a familiar voice.

"Not you, stay for a moment please."

You halt in place before lifting your gaze towards him, his lithe body stalking with purpose behind his mahogany desk.

"You did very well today, and color me surprised on your Shakespearean knowledge. Not a lot of FBI workers have the comprehension of his complex writings."

A small swallow forms, your cheeks flushing a bright shade of crimson before moving your gaze downward to your fingers. Your nails are obscenely short from your nervous nail biting habit, but it makes it easy to pull a trigger.

"I do a lot of reading in my spare time, Professor Lecter. Shakespeare has always fascinated me, even as a little girl."

His delicate hand lifts with a small chuckle escaping his soft lips, which you did not intend to stare at this long. It's funny, if there was a black shroud upon his frame, he would almost resemble the Grim Reaper himself.

Shouldn't that frighten you?

"Please, call me Hannibal. I am only filling in Will's time for a couple of months, and would rather not fully take on his title."

A smile forms on your face before biting your bottom lip, nodding in agreement before you begin to collect more of your paperwork into your bag.

"Well, Hannibal. You have been doing very well in his stead. He might have some competition when he gets back."

Was that a tease that spilled from your lips? Gods, it came out so naturally that you didn't even notice at first. But once he starts to move slowly towards your frame is when you began to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"And what kind of competition would that be?"

If you just kept your mouth shut, you wouldn't have this overwhelming desirable feeling to hide yourself in the darkest corner imaginable. But alas, this wasn't the first time your mouth got you in trouble. He's towering over you now, your rear hitting the back of your desk with a slight creak of metal against floor.

"Well I mean, -...um...your teaching methods..."

His head cocked to the side with a sly, devilish grin, those darkening orbs in his skull drawing to gaze upon your slightly chapped lips.

"You believe my teaching methods are superior to Will Graham's?"

A small meek nod forms, your fingers reaching behind you to grasp the desk's wood tightly with white knuckles. He has waited so long for this moment, to ensnare the little rabbit who always just seemed a hand's touch away. A satisfied smirk trails on his gaunt face, for he knows he has finally caught you, the perfect subject to twist and form into his own twisted masterpiece.

"Shall we test that theory?"

He waits patiently while moving a soft hand to caress the side of your jawline, your eyes fluttering from the gentle gesture before meeting his gaze with a deep breath.

"......Yes...."

You have fallen, dear Ophelia.

The sudden feeling of his lips against your own made you gasp in fever, his other hand moves to cup both of your cheeks for guidance. Flesh kneaded against your own in a steady rhythm. He's taking your time with you, not to scare off the poor little rabbit too fast. You're hanging upon the desk for dear life, brows knitting together in concentration of his lead, a waltz of lust that you haven't experienced before in your lifetime.

It was then that he quickens the pace, pushing himself harder into your trembling frame while diving his skilled tongue past your opening mouth. You moan wantonly then, a small growl of his own forming in unison as he moves to pull upon your ponytail with control. It's as if you are melting under his touch, his experience in the art of seduction almost too much for you to bear.

Hannibal release then, breathing heavily upon your jawline before giving chaste kisses and slight bites with teeth, his calloused hands moving to cup upon your clothed breasts in a firm movement. It almost startles you, a shocking gasp escaping before he moves his mouth to assailant yours once again. You don't remember raising your hands to grasp his shoulders, but when you can feel the soft expensive silk under your fingertips, it brings you back to reality.

You are kissing your Professor, and Hannibal of all people.

He pulls away to begin to unbutton your uniform attire, a white button up shirt you thrifted not too long ago. Each movement is calculated, like a pianist wanting to get the perfect note each time.

"Are you ready for your lesson, my dear?"

His voice is hoarse from his own arousal, your eyes widening in surprise from his words. Was he seriously going to try to teach you something, while doing THIS type of behavior? It made your heart flutter wildly in your caged chest, it rising and falling before he reveals your cotton bra.

"What-...what kind of lesson, Hannibal?"

Oh how the devil smirks, his eyes trailing up to meet your own doe ones while holding your tender bust in his hands.

"Recite for me....the Death of Ophelia..."

It was then that you felt some type of fear hit your entire being, like a deer that had stumbled upon thorn bramble and unable to escape. Your breathing intensifies as you stare upon him with parted lips, his hands continuing their kneading while patiently waiting for you to begin. He was TOYING with you, and of course your stubborn brain wouldn't allow that to happen.

You've been through far too much to have this man steal your tongue.

" -....W-When down her weedy trophies....and herself...." You begin with a meek tone, his skillful fingers moving to remove the article of clothing in one swift movement. You can't hold back a loud whimper from the sudden feeling of chill air licking your breasts, his mouth moving to envelope around a hardening bud for protection.

"Her -....c-clothes spread wide... and mermaid like... awhile they bore her up..."

Hannibal praises you with a muffled hum of approval, tongue sliding effortlessly around your sensitive bud and giving a lewd suckle. His other hand moves to dive slowly, carefully, down between your legs, which you open obediently with a roll of your head.

"Which time she chanted snatches-....o-of old tunes..."

After that singular word he dove his hand down your work trousers to rub against your clothed sex, your panties already beginning to soak under his touch as you moan heatedly from the act. He has you in his complete control, and every circular motion of his finger combined with the flicking on his tongue on your breast causes your stomach to tighten and coil with pure arousal.

Hannibal pauses for a moment, his own hair a bit disheveled and falling across his sunken eyes while gazing upward at you. He wants you to continue your rehearsal, and will not proceed his lewd actions until you do. With a huff, you move your hands to hold onto the back of his head tightly, hips subconsciously rolling into his hand as you begin once again in a hoarse tone.

"As one incapable of her own d-distress...or l-like a creature....ah-...native and indued..."

He's absolutely purring now with delight, his mouth retreating from your sensitive nipple to have both hands quickly thrust your pants downward in a harsh movement. It caused you to jump slightly, his usual professional demeanor now replaced by pure hungry desire. Like a wolf that has been starved, finally able to feast on what he has been dreaming most nights alone in his bed.

"Unto that e-element...but not long it could not be..."

You're watching him slither down your frame like a viper, his eyes locked upon you as if you were about to dissipate and never return. But you knew, deep down in your heart, there was no going back. And you did not want to. No, you belonged here, your hand outstretching to brush a fallen lock behind his ear. He takes this gesture with a tilt of his head towards your touch, his hungry mouth opening to breathe wantonly against your thigh with a dash of tongue.

"Till that h-her garments... h-heavy with their drink...."

Hannibal removes your panties while staring into your soul with each word that escapes your lips, his own mouth moving to ghost along the wetting of your folds in a delicious torture. It is mentally noted that you must finish the prose, before getting your ultimate reward. Your blunt nails move to grasp the desk's sides while bending your back slightly in the sitting position for more access, a long sigh escaping your lips while you gaze down before him.

A God....upon his knees....

"Pull'd the poor w-wretch from her melodious lay....to muddy death..."

You were gone before it even began, the sudden wet heat diving into your wanton core causing a strangled cry to escape you. Tight tremors from each sinful lick upon your folds made the desk move slightly in rhythm, a starved growl emitting from his lips that vibrated upon you. More, you needed more, a small series of babbles leaving you as you tilted your head backward in pure ecstasy. Of course he was this skilled with a tongue, a finger moving to rub along your swollen bud in time with his flesh diving inward inside a nectar crevice. You can hear the lewd actions echo in the room around you, another one of his hands moving to grasp your thigh in a tight vice grip, the other fingers moving to spread you open like the most desired prize he has won in his lifetime.

You couldn't think, couldn't fully register what was happening for it was all too much to feel, your toes curling in your shoes as he dove two fingers inside you with purpose.

"H-Hannbial -.... ahn God..."

He chuckled against your folds before lifting his head towards your gaze, slicked with your essence of your coupling in the most beautiful of ways.

"There is no God here, my love..."

And with that, he plunged into you with a faster rhythm, your thighs convulsing from the intensity as he lavished your budding flower. There was only so more you could take, a hand moving to grip his lose locks tightly enough to cause a groan from his lips.

"I-I can't...I'm...."

"Come on me....."

His deep hoarse voice against your throbbing cunt was enough to send you over the edge, your back arching in the most angelic way while you spill your essence on his fingers and face. He's ravenous over it, taking it all in as if he were drunk on it. And when he pulls away and your body shivers from the lack of contact, he can only gaze into your eyes with pools of black that are his own.

His mask had cracked, revealing what truly laid there all this time.

The monster, is finally revealing himself.

[chris-prank]

Peaceful post-apocalypse settings have always been one of my favorite tropes! There's just something so freeing about the thought of humanity being set back to simpler times...(boomer ahh mindset but wtvr)

That said, may I request more Martin content?🙏 He's such a sweetheart!! Maybe something about reader wanting to join him on a hunt? Him teaching them how to? Or just any ideas you have for him really

Hope you have a lovely day mwuah :)

With the deplorable state of our world right now, it’s perfectly fair to prefer a time without the complicated life of the city 😆 so I totally get you 🤝 Also I’m so happy that you called Martin a sweetheart 🥺, if we take away if yandere tendencies he really is! And have a great day too ❤️❤️❤️

Yandere hunter x GN reader

CW: animal death, manipulation sorta, reader get frozen by fear/ fear response

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

“You want to go hunting with me?” Martin asked, surprised, while casually throwing his crossbow over his shoulder.

He felt extremely flattered that you wanted to take part in his daily duties and by looking in your hopeful eyes, he couldn’t dare deny you anything. So after you changed into more appropriate clothes, the two of you were ready to go into the forest. You walked hand in hand, looking like you were going on a romantic stroll. In reality, this adorable display was a safety major, since the surroundings were filled with traps Martin had previously set up. He said that it was to make sure that nothing or no one could escape him while he hunted. Whatever that meant.

“So what are we looking for exactly?” You asked while keeping an eye out for any sounds in the crisp autumn leaves.

“It depends… there’s usually deers roaming around this time of year.”

“We’re going to kill a deer?!” You repeated, your jaw hanging wide open. You thought you were going for something smaller like a rabbit or a bird at the very least.

He grinned and winked at you. “Only if you can actually do it.”

“Hey!” You pushed his arms while sticking your tongue at him. “I’m a very independent and capable person.” You added while puffing your chest out jokingly.

The man next to you seemed to mumble something under his breath, but since he didn’t repeat himself despite your lack of response, you figured it was nothing important.

***

You couldn’t believe you two had found one. Of course, you knew that Martin was skilled in tracking animals, but still, what were the odds! The deer was lazily drinking from a small pond, unaware of the crossbow pointed at its neck.

Martin had helped you get in the right spot and revised with you the shooting position he had taught you before. But you kept shaking. The idea of killing an animal seemed so simple and inconsequential, but now that you were faced with the reality of the situation you just couldn’t do it. That’s when you felt his warm embrace enveloped you, your back now pressed against his chest. His hands crept up to rest over yours, steadying your grip on the weapon.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to do anything.” His voice was so calm, so enticing. It was pulling you in a sense of comfort and stability that few people had the chance of experiencing, “you can just rely on me.”

You simply nodded, you just wanted to lose yourself in his presence and forget that you had the life of a living being in the palm of your hands. Then his finger was over yours and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger. Everything went by so fast, as a shrill shriek followed by a loud thump made all the birds take flight from the surrounding trees. You slowly lowered the crossbow, still a bit in shock of what had just happened. In response, Martin rubbed your arms up and down in a soothing manner.

“You were so brave for me.” He whispered against your ear, “but don’t worry, you won’t have to do it ever again, I’ll be brave for the both of us if you let me.”

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Karma love to make a fool out of me 💀 it’s always when I say “oh it’ll take a while for me to complete” that I suddenly get a wave of inspiration. Not going to complain too much though, it’s always better than having writer's block.

[artyandink]

amoralism | sixteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, gunfire, angst

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: I Love You, I’m Sorry by Gracie Abrams

symbolism

Gunfire echoed down the narrow alleyway as you ducked behind a dumpster, your heart pounding in time with the chaos around you. The tang of gunpowder filled the air, sharp and bitter, while shouts and the whir of bullets slicing through the air surrounded you.

Dean Winchester. You hadn’t seen him in months—maybe even a year—but there he was. The same cocky grin, the same dangerous gleam in his eyes as he fired off rounds at you and your team. It should’ve been impossible. This was the man you once knew like the back of your hand, the one you trusted with your life. Your partner, your lover, the man who could light your soul on fire with a glance.

But now? Now, he was a ghost—a rogue agent for a crime syndicate that called itself "Hell." And you weren’t just chasing a man who’d betrayed the FBI. You were chasing a Knight of Hell, a force to be reckoned with. Dean Winchester had fallen, but the pull between you both had never quite broken.

"Clear!" came the shout from one of your fellow agents. You broke from cover, your legs moving on instinct as you sprinted after him. You knew where he was going; you could feel it, as if some invisible tether still tied the two of you together. The beat of your shoes against the cracked pavement mirrored the frantic pace of your thoughts. You shouldn’t care. He was a traitor, dangerous. But damn it, you needed answers.

The alley split, and you turned down a narrower path, barely able to keep Dean in your sights. His broad frame vanished behind an old, weathered warehouse door. You hesitated for half a second, heart pounding in your throat. This wasn’t protocol. Going in alone? Chasing a Knight of Hell with nothing but a gun and a grudge? But the FBI had never prepared you for this kind of battle—not when it was personal.

You slammed through the door, gun raised, but the room you stepped into was quiet—eerily so. The smell of rust and old wood filled your nose. You spun around, searching every corner, every shadow.

“Dean!” His name left your lips like an accusation, sharp and cutting. The room echoed in response. “Stop running! You owe me an explanation.”

Silence answered.

You turned again, and suddenly, there he was. He emerged from the shadows like a predator stalking its prey, his green eyes dark, unreadable, but that smirk—God, that same smug smirk—played on his lips.

“An explanation? That’s what you want?” His voice was low, gravelly, laced with something darker, more dangerous than the Dean you used to know.

“Damn right I do,” you shot back, your pulse quickening, but not from fear. Anger, frustration—something else entirely. “Why are you doing this? Why did you leave? And why the hell did you—" You stopped yourself, but the words hung between you like a loaded gun. Why did you kiss me?

Dean’s jaw tightened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “You shouldn’t be here. Go back to your team, pretend you didn’t see me.”

Your finger twitched on the trigger, but you knew you weren’t going to shoot. He knew it too. “You think I can just walk away? You think this is something I can ignore? You kissed me, Dean. Then you disappeared into Hell’s little army. Now you’re working for the same people we used to hunt down. What happened to you?”

He stepped closer, and you felt the space between you shrink, the air thickening with a tension you hadn’t felt in months, maybe years. "I told you," he growled, his voice like gravel, "I don’t owe you anything."

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” you snapped, refusing to back down. “If you didn’t owe me anything, why’d you come back the last time? Why’d you—” You caught your breath, your heart hammering in your chest. “Why’d you kiss me?”

Dean’s eyes darkened, his jaw flexing as he took another step toward you. “You really want to do this now?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was the storm beneath it that made you shiver.

“Yeah, I do.” Your voice trembled with equal parts anger and desperation. He was so close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that you could see the war raging behind his eyes.

Without warning, Dean surged forward, pushing you back against the cold, rough wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, but before you could react, his lips crashed into yours, hard and unyielding. The kiss was angry, desperate, full of everything unsaid between you. It was fire and fury, passion and regret, all colliding at once.

You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his jacket as you kissed him back with equal force. It was too much, too fast, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. This was what you had been chasing, what you had been missing.

Dean’s hands roamed your body, gripping your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed you, craved you, in a way words couldn’t explain. His touch was rough, desperate, as though he were trying to erase the space that had grown between you. You felt the cold metal of his gun brush against your side as his fingers slid under your shirt, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

You should stop. This wasn’t the time, the place. But the logic in your mind was drowned out by the heat building between your bodies. His lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks that you knew would be visible later, but you didn’t care.

“Dean…” you breathed out, your fingers tightening in his hair as his hands traveled lower, pushing past the waistband of your pants. “This—this doesn’t answer anything.”

But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, craving more. He groaned against your skin, his breath hot and uneven.

“You want answers?” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. “This is your answer.” His hand gripped the back of your neck, tilting your head up so his eyes bore into yours. “This is all there is left.”

You shook your head, even as you clung to him, even as your body screamed for him. “That’s not true. I know you, Dean. I know there’s more than this.” Your voice cracked, and his expression flickered with something—regret, pain—before it hardened again.

He kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else too—something raw, vulnerable. His hands slowed, tracing the contours of your body like he was memorizing you, like this was the last time.

Your back hit the wall again, and you felt the cool metal of his gun holster pressing into your hip, a sharp reminder of who he was now—what he had become. But in this moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands pulled you closer, the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt since the last time you were together.

It was messy, frantic. Clothes were pushed aside, discarded haphazardly as the heat between you both became unbearable. Dean’s hands were everywhere, roaming over your skin, his lips never leaving yours for long. The desperation was palpable, both of you clinging to something neither of you could name, something you both feared losing.

Your breath hitched as he lifted you, pinning you against the wall, his body pressing into yours in all the right ways. It was fast, rough, the way you both needed it to be. You bit back a cry as he pushed inside you, the sensation overwhelming. Your fingers clawed at his back, holding him closer, pulling him deeper. His mouth was on your neck again, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered your name like a curse, like a prayer.

For a moment, everything else disappeared—the shootout, the lies, the betrayal. It was just you and Dean, tangled together in the heat of the moment, desperate for something you couldn’t quite define. It was messy and chaotic, but it was real.

As the tension in your body built to an unbearable height, you felt his hand cup the back of your head, pulling you into another kiss—this one softer, slower, as if he was trying to savor the moment. Your body trembled as you came undone beneath him, and Dean followed soon after, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged, uneven.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The room was silent again, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Slowly, reality crept back in—the sound of distant sirens, the cold air against your sweat-dampened skin, the feel of Dean still pressed against you, his arms caging you in.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, and for a second, you saw the man you used to know. The one who made you laugh, who made you feel safe. But it was fleeting, and soon the mask slipped back into place.

“You’re still not answering me,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, shaky. “Why?”

Dean’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes hardening once more. “Because it’s too late for answers.”

The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. You sat by the window, the glow of warm light spilling out onto the street, painting everything in soft shades of gold. Inside, laughter echoed through the walls. The clink of cutlery and the muffled sound of conversation drifted into the night air. It was the kind of evening that felt like home—safe, comforting, everything you deserved.

But you couldn’t see him.

Across the street, hidden in the shadows beneath the towering oaks, Dean Winchester stood still, watching. His breath misted in the cool air, his heart a heavy weight in his chest. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. Every instinct screamed for him to leave, to turn away before the sight of you, so close but so impossibly far, tore him apart. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Beside him, Sam shifted, the quiet gurgles of his newborn cradled in his arms cutting through the silence. Little Dean—his nephew, named after him—slept in the back seat of the Impala, his soft snores barely audible over the gentle hum of the engine. Sam cast a glance at his older brother, his brow furrowing with concern.

“You sure about this?” Sam asked quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile stillness between them.

Dean didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on you, on the way you smiled at something one of your family members said, your laughter so genuine, so light. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in too long. A sound he hadn’t been the cause of in far too long.

You looked happy. You looked… content.

And Dean felt like he was dying inside.

“She’s better off,” he said finally, his voice rough, raw with emotion he couldn’t quite choke down. “She doesn’t need me messing things up.”

Sam frowned, shifting the baby in his arms. The newborn stirred slightly but settled when Sam gently rocked him. “You don’t know that. You haven’t even talked to her since…” His voice trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but Dean didn’t need him to. He knew exactly what Sam meant.

Since he’d left. Since he’d decided that the only way to keep you safe was to cut you out of his life completely. Since he’d broken his own heart—and yours—in the process.

Dean swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing heavier with every passing second. “She’s moved on, Sam. Look at her.” He gestured to the window, where you were pouring a glass of wine for your sister, laughing again at something her husband said. “She’s happy.”

Sam followed his gaze, watching the scene unfold. It was the picture of domestic bliss—the kind of life Dean had always told himself he didn’t deserve. And maybe he didn’t. Not with the blood on his hands. Not with the weight of his sins pressing down on his shoulders every single day.

But it didn’t stop the ache in his chest, the one that pulsed with every beat of his heart, telling him how wrong this felt.

“You think she’s better off without you?” Sam asked quietly, his tone gentle but firm. “Do you really believe that?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still on you, on the way you seemed to glow in the warmth of the room, surrounded by people who loved you. It was everything he wanted for you, everything he’d fought so hard to protect you from losing.

But damn, it hurt. God, it hurt so much to see you like this, to know you were living a life he could never be a part of.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered after a long pause, his voice thick with emotion. “I do.”

Sam sighed, shifting his weight as he glanced down at the baby in his arms. “Dean, I know you think you’re doing the right thing. I know you think you’re protecting her. But… are you sure this is what she wants? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she’d rather have you in her life, even with all the danger? Even with everything?”

Dean clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. Of course, he’d thought about it. It was all he ever thought about. Every night, when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, your face was the first thing he saw. Every morning, when he woke up to the empty space beside him, the space you used to fill, it was your absence that weighed him down like a stone.

But every time he thought about picking up the phone, about calling you, about telling you how much he missed you, how much he needed you, something stopped him.

He was too dangerous. His life was too dangerous. And the last thing he wanted was for you to get caught up in it. He’d already lost too many people he cared about. He couldn’t lose you too.

“She’s safer without me,” Dean whispered, his voice breaking. “That’s all that matters.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at his brother. “Is it, though? Is that really all that matters?”

Dean didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat was too tight, his chest too heavy with the weight of everything he was trying to hold back.

Sam shifted again, glancing back at the house. The soft glow of the lights illuminated the scene inside, casting you in a warm, golden light that made you seem almost ethereal. You were smiling, laughing, surrounded by the people you loved.

But Dean couldn’t stop the thought that crept into his mind, unbidden and unwanted.

Was this happiness real? Or was it just a mask, something you wore to hide the pain he’d caused when he walked out of your life?

“Dean…” Sam’s voice was gentle, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how far to push. “You’re not failing her by wanting to be in her life. You’re failing her by staying away.”

Those words cut deeper than any blade. Dean flinched, his breath catching in his throat as the truth of Sam’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d been telling himself for so long that he was protecting you, that staying away was the right thing to do. But what if Sam was right? What if, by pushing you away, he was hurting you even more?

What if, all this time, he’d been lying to himself?

Dean blinked, his vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. He clenched his jaw, refusing to let them fall, but it was no use. The emotion he’d been bottling up for so long was finally breaking free, spilling over like a dam that had been holding back a flood.

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming. He tried to swallow down the sob that threatened to break free, but his chest was tight, his throat raw with the weight of it all.

“I’m failing her,” Dean whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing. “I’m failing her, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said everything. He understood. He always understood.

Dean pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. The sob he’d been holding back finally broke free, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. He hadn’t cried like this in years—hadn’t let himself feel this much in years.

But now, standing across the street from the woman he loved, watching her live a life without him, the dam had finally broken.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Dean choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was protecting her. But all I’ve done is… all I’ve done is hurt her.”

Sam reached out, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not too late, Dean. You can still fix this. You can still—”

Dean shook his head, cutting him off. “No. I can’t.” His voice was firm, but it was laced with a deep, aching sorrow that felt like it was ripping him apart from the inside. “It’s too late. She’s… she’s happy now. After I fuckin’ ruined her She doesn’t need me anymore.”

But even as he said the words, they felt like a lie.

Dean didn’t know what was worse—the idea that you had moved on, that you were living a life without him, or the fear that maybe you hadn’t. Maybe you were just as broken as he was. Maybe you were putting on a brave face, pretending to be okay when inside, you were just as lost, just as hollow as he felt.

And the worst part? He would never know. Because he was too much of a coward to find out.

Sam watched his brother, his heart aching for him. He knew how much Dean had sacrificed, how much he’d given up to try and protect the people he loved. But sometimes, the cost of that sacrifice was too high. Sometimes, the people you were trying to protect didn’t want to be saved. They just wanted to be with you.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, his voice cracking. He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to—Sam, you, himself. Maybe all of you.

Sam squeezed his shoulder, his eyes full of understanding. “You’re not alone in this, Dean. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Dean nodded, but the tears still fell. He didn’t feel strong. He didn’t feel like the hero he was supposed to be. All he felt was tired—so damn tired of fighting, of running, of pretending like he could outrun the weight of his own heart.

Across the street, you laughed again, and Dean’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

He wanted to believe that you were happy, that you had moved on, that you were living the life you deserved. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He wasn’t protecting you. He was failing you.

And the worst part?

He didn’t know how to fix it.

You sat at the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. The house was quiet, the soft hum of life outside the only reminder that the world kept turning. But in here—in this room—it felt like time had stopped, like every second stretched into an eternity of silence, and your thoughts were the only thing filling the space.

Dean.

The name lingered in your mind, a familiar ache that never quite faded, no matter how much time passed. It had been months, maybe even longer now, since you’d last seen him—since he’d walked out of your life with that devastating finality. Since he’d left you standing there, heartbroken and confused, trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

The truth was, you had never stopped thinking about him. About the way he used to make you laugh, how his smile could light up a room. How, despite everything, there was always this fire between you both—a pull so strong it felt like gravity. It had always been more than just a relationship. It had been a force of nature.

But now, all that was left was the empty space beside you and the echo of his name in your head.

You shifted on the bed, curling your knees up to your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. But it didn’t work. Nothing did.

The guilt was always there too, creeping in whenever you let your guard down. It whispered to you in the quiet moments, telling you that you hadn’t tried hard enough, that you hadn’t fought for him the way you should have. If you had—if you had—maybe things would be different. Maybe he would still be here.

A single tear slid down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, but it didn’t stop the flood that followed. Your chest tightened, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a vice.

You’d been so stupid, so naïve to think that Dean would always be there. You’d thought that the connection you shared was unbreakable, that no matter what, he wouldn’t walk away. But he had, and the worst part was that you couldn’t even blame him. Not entirely.

Maybe you hadn’t done enough. Maybe he had been slipping away for a long time, and you just hadn’t noticed. Maybe you’d been too focused on your own life, on trying to keep your family together, that you hadn’t seen the cracks forming in the foundation of your relationship.

You could still remember the last time you saw him—the way he’d kissed you like it was goodbye, like he already knew he wasn’t coming back. You’d asked him what was wrong, why he seemed so distant, but he hadn’t answered. He’d just kissed you again, harder this time, like he was trying to memorize the way you tasted.

And then he was gone.

You hadn’t heard from him since. No phone calls, no texts, nothing. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air, leaving you to pick up the pieces of whatever it was you thought you had.

Your breath hitched as another sob escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands, trying to muffle the sound. You didn’t want anyone to hear you crying. You didn’t want anyone to know how much it still hurt, how raw the wound still felt.

But the truth was, you missed him. God, you missed him so much it felt like a physical ache, a hollow emptiness that nothing else could fill.

A soft knock on the door broke through the haze of your thoughts, startling you.

You quickly wiped your face, trying to compose yourself, though you knew it was a losing battle. Your eyes were already red and swollen, your breath still uneven from the tears.

“Yeah?” you called out, your voice thick with emotion.

The door creaked open, and there, standing in the dim light of the hallway, was Sam. He looked… tired. Worn out, like the weight of the world was pressing down on his broad shoulders. But there was a softness in his expression, a quiet understanding that made your chest tighten even more.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping into the room. “Just wanted to check in before bed. Thought you might need someone to talk to.”

You forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… thinking.”

Sam nodded, his eyes scanning your face, reading the emotion you couldn’t quite hide. He wasn’t fooled. He never was.

He walked over to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying a word. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air between you.

You could feel his presence beside you, solid and comforting, but it only made the ache in your chest worse. Because Sam was here, and Dean wasn’t. And no matter how much you cared for Sam—no matter how much he cared for you—it wasn’t the same.

“It’s okay to miss him, you know,” Sam said softly, his voice breaking through the silence.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling again, but it was no use. The dam broke, and before you knew it, you were sobbing—deep, heart-wrenching sobs that shook your whole body.

“I didn’t try hard enough, Sam,” you choked out between sobs, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I should have… I should have fought for him. I should have done something.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, his expression pained as he listened to you. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t have changed what happened. But the words stuck in his throat, weighed down by the truth he wasn’t sure he could tell you.

Because the truth was, Dean hadn’t left because of anything you’d done. He hadn’t left because you didn’t fight hard enough. He left because he thought he was protecting you—because he believed that staying away was the only way to keep you safe.

But Sam couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

Instead, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms, letting you cry against his chest. His heart ached for you, for Dean, for the mess that his brother had made in his attempt to do what he thought was right.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you tighter. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt as if holding onto him could somehow stop the pain, could somehow bring Dean back. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. Nothing could.

“I just… I just don’t understand,” you whispered after a while, your voice hoarse from crying. “How could he just leave? How could he just… walk away like I meant nothing?”

Sam closed his eyes, the guilt clawing at his insides. He wanted to tell you that you did mean something—that you meant everything to Dean. But he couldn’t. Dean had made him promise not to say anything, not to drag you back into the dangerous world they lived in.

“He didn’t walk away because you meant nothing,” Sam said softly, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. “I promise you, that’s not why.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Then why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why did he leave?”

Sam hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words—the words that would ease your pain without betraying his brother’s trust.

“He… he thought it was for the best,” Sam said quietly, hating how hollow the words sounded, knowing they wouldn’t be enough.

You stared at him for a long moment, your heart aching with the need for answers, for something—anything—that could explain why Dean had left you like this.

But Sam didn’t offer any more explanations. He just looked at you with those sad, understanding eyes, and you knew that whatever the reason was, he wasn’t going to tell you.

You swallowed hard, wiping at your face again, though the tears kept coming.

“I just want to know what I did wrong,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I want to know why I wasn’t enough.”

Sam’s chest tightened at your words, the guilt gnawing at him even more. You had been more than enough for Dean. You had been everything. But Dean had made his choice, and now you were left to pick up the pieces of a life that had been shattered by someone else’s decision.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sam said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “None of this is your fault.”

But you didn’t believe him. You couldn’t. Because if it wasn’t your fault, then why did it feel like it was? Why did it feel like you could have stopped him if you had just been a little stronger, a little more… something?

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears kept falling, the pain still so fresh, so raw.

“I miss him,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of the words. “I miss him so much, Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes, his heart breaking for you, for his brother, for the mess that love had left behind. He wished he could make it better. He wished he could tell you the truth, that Dean missed you too, that Dean was just as broken as you were. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

So instead, he just held you, his arms wrapped around you in a

silent promise that he would be here for you, that you wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

And in that quiet moment, as you cried against his chest, Sam made a decision.

He couldn’t tell you everything. But he could promise you this—he wouldn’t let you go through this without knowing the truth. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow, but someday, you would know why Dean had left. And when that day came, Sam hoped you would find some kind of peace in it.

For now, though, he just held you, letting you cry, letting you feel the pain that came with loving someone who wasn’t there anymore.

And maybe, in time, the ache would fade.

Maybe.

The quiet of the house felt heavy as Sam made his way down the stairs, each step creaking slightly under his weight. He moved slowly, careful not to make any noise, not to disturb the peace that had settled upstairs. You were finally asleep, your tears having given way to exhaustion. Sam had stayed by your side until your breathing evened out, until the tension in your body softened, and the weight of everything you were feeling momentarily lifted.

But now, as he descended into the dimly lit living room, Sam felt the full weight of the conversation waiting for him. He could see Rick, your dad, sitting at the dining table, his large hands folded in front of him, his eyes distant and troubled. The overhead light cast deep shadows across his face, making him look older than Sam remembered.

Sam paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking a breath before stepping into the room.

"Sir," Sam said quietly, nodding in acknowledgment as he approached. He'd always addressed Rick that way—respectful, deferential, even though Rick had insisted more than once that Sam didn’t need to be so formal. But tonight, the word seemed to fit the mood of the house, the unspoken tension hanging between them.

Rick looked up, his eyes heavy with the kind of worry only a father could carry. He didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge Sam with anything more than a nod. The lines on his face deepened as he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his tired features.

"Sam," Rick said, his voice gravelly and low. “She asleep?”

Sam nodded as he pulled out a chair across from Rick and sat down, his long legs stretching out underneath the table. He glanced toward the staircase, as if making sure you weren’t going to wake up and hear them talking. “Yeah, finally,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “She was pretty upset. She… She misses him.”

Rick’s lips tightened, a muscle in his jaw jumping slightly as he clenched his teeth. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze fixed on the wood grain of the table as though the words he wanted to say were etched somewhere in the surface.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Sam,” Rick finally said, his voice low but firm. “She’s my daughter. Every day, I watch her break a little more, and I can’t tell her why. I can’t help her. All I can do is sit here and lie to her face.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair, his heart heavy with the weight of Rick’s words. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. Rick had been struggling with the situation from the beginning—from the moment Dean had disappeared from your life without so much as an explanation. Rick knew more than you did, enough to understand why Dean had left, but that didn’t make it any easier.

And it certainly didn’t make it easier for Rick to watch his daughter suffer.

“I know,” Sam said, his voice soft but steady. “I know it’s hard, sir. But it’s the best thing for her right now. Dean—he’s… he’s doing what he thinks is right. He’s trying to protect her.”

Rick let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looked up at Sam, his eyes filled with frustration. “Protect her? From what, exactly? From him? Because it sure as hell looks like he’s the one hurting her the most right now.”

Sam flinched at Rick’s words, the truth of them cutting deep. He couldn’t deny that Dean’s decision to leave had hurt you—had shattered you in ways Sam didn’t know how to fix. But he also knew Dean, knew the guilt and fear that drove every one of his brother’s actions, especially when it came to you.

“Dean’s not doing this because he wants to hurt her,” Sam said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm, measured. “He’s doing this because he thinks it’s the only way to keep her safe. You know that.”

Rick’s hands clenched into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I know what Dean thinks, Sam,” he said, his voice rough. “But that doesn’t make this any easier to swallow. That doesn’t make it easier to watch her cry herself to sleep every night, wondering why she wasn’t enough to make him stay.”

Sam felt a sharp pang of guilt twist in his chest. He’d seen the way you tried to hide your pain, the way you put on a brave face for your family, for the people who loved you. But when you were alone—or when you thought no one was looking—the cracks in your armor showed. And Sam hated it. He hated that he had to watch you suffer, knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this from her,” Rick said, his voice quieter now, the anger giving way to something softer, something more vulnerable. “She’s my little girl, Sam. I’m supposed to protect her. And I can’t even do that.”

Sam’s heart ached for Rick, for the father who wanted nothing more than to shield his daughter from the pain that had been thrust into her life. It was the same way he felt about Dean, the same helplessness that came from watching someone you loved fall apart and knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“I get it, sir,” Sam said after a long pause. “Believe me, I get it. But the truth—it’s not going to make this any easier for her. If anything, it’s going to make things worse.”

Rick looked up at Sam, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Worse? How could it possibly be worse than this?”

Sam swallowed hard, the weight of the secret he carried pressing down on him. He knew that telling you the truth about Dean—about why he had really left—would only open up more questions, more pain. Dean wasn’t just out there living a normal life, trying to move on from you. He was caught up in something dark, something dangerous. Something that Sam wasn’t even sure Dean would survive.

“If she knew why Dean left… if she knew what he’s dealing with, she’d never stop trying to find him,” Sam explained, his voice low but steady. “And that’s exactly what Dean doesn’t want. He left because he thought it was the only way to protect her. If she knew the truth, if she went looking for him, she’d be in danger. Real danger.”

Rick’s expression softened slightly, his anger giving way to concern. He was quiet for a moment, the words sinking in.

Sam leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he tried to make Rick understand. “Dean isn’t doing this because he doesn’t love her. He’s doing it because he does love her. And he’s willing to hurt himself—and her—if it means keeping her safe.”

Rick let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the situation settled over him. “I just don’t know how much longer she can take this, Sam,” he said quietly. “She’s strong, but… she’s breaking. And I don’t know how to help her.”

Sam felt his chest tighten at Rick’s words. He’d seen it too, the way you were slowly unraveling, bit by bit. It was like watching someone try to keep their head above water, only to see the waves pulling them down further with every passing day.

“I know,” Sam said softly, his voice filled with empathy. “But right now, the best thing we can do is give her time. Dean’s not going to be gone forever. He’ll come back when it’s safe. He’ll come back when he can.”

Rick looked at Sam, his eyes searching for something—hope, maybe. But Sam wasn’t sure if he had any to offer. He wanted to believe that Dean would come back, that they’d all come out of this mess on the other side. But the truth was, he didn’t know. Not for certain.

All Sam knew was that his brother had made a choice, and now they all had to live with the consequences.

“I’m asking you to hold on a little longer, sir,” Sam said quietly. “I know it’s hard. But if we tell her now, if we bring her into this, it’s only going to make things worse. For her, for Dean… for all of us.”

Rick stared at Sam for a long moment, his expression conflicted. He wanted to help his daughter, to ease her pain, but he also knew that Sam was right. Bringing you into the dangerous world Dean lived in wouldn’t fix anything. It would only put you at risk.

Finally, Rick nodded, though the movement was slow, hesitant. “Alright,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll hold out a little longer. But Sam…” He looked up, his eyes filled with a father’s fear. “If something happens to her because of this—because of Dean—I won’t forgive him. Or you.”

Sam’s heart clenched at Rick’s words, the weight of the promise hanging heavy between them. He understood. Rick was trusting him—trusting Dean—to keep you safe, even if that meant keeping you in the dark.

“I promise,” Sam said quietly, his voice filled with conviction. “I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

Rick didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough. He would hold out, for now. But he wouldn’t wait forever.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything left unsaid.

After a few moments, Rick let out a tired sigh, running a hand over his face as he stood up from the table. “I’m heading to bed,” he said quietly, his voice thick with exhaustion. “You should get some rest too, Sam.”

Sam nodded, though he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. There was too much weighing on his mind—too many what-ifs, too many worries about what the future held.

“Goodnight, sir,” Sam said, watching as Rick made his way toward the stairs.

Rick paused at the base of the staircase, glancing back at Sam one last time. “Take care of her, Sam,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She’s all I’ve got.”

And with that, Rick disappeared upstairs, leaving Sam alone in the quiet, dimly lit room.

Sam sat there for a long while, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Dean, of the dangerous path they were all walking. He wanted to believe that everything would turn out alright—that Dean would come back, that you’d find some kind of peace.

But the truth was, Sam didn’t know what the future held. All he could do was wait. Wait for Dean to come back. Wait for the moment when the truth would finally come out.

And hope that, when that time came, it wouldn’t tear everything apart.

Cassie sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers absently twisting the hem of the blanket as she stared at the closed bedroom door. The room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound breaking the stillness. Her husband, David, was sitting beside her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. They had been quiet for a while, the kind of silence that often felt heavy with unspoken words.

Cassie’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, emotions colliding in a chaotic dance that left her feeling both drained and unsettled. She had seen you—her older sister, her guide and protector—broken in ways she had never imagined. It had always been easy to take your strength for granted, to see you as the one who was always there to pick up the pieces, to offer support, to be the anchor in the storm. But now, seeing you like this, vulnerable and hurting, had turned her world upside down.

She turned to David, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and he looked at her with a mixture of concern and understanding. “I never realized how much she meant to me,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “I mean, I knew she was important—she’s my sister. But I never really understood… until now.”

David nodded, his hand gently rubbing her back in a soothing motion. He had always been a calm presence, a steady anchor in her own turbulent seas. Now, he was trying to offer that same stability to her, as she grappled with the weight of her sister’s suffering.

“I see her now, breaking,” Cassie continued, her voice trembling. “And it’s like… like a part of me is breaking too. I never realized how much of myself was tied up in her strength, in her being the one who always had it together.”

David shifted slightly, his gaze tender as he looked at her. “It’s hard to see someone you love in pain,” he said softly. “Especially when they’ve always been the one who seemed unshakable. It’s like suddenly, the world’s not what you thought it was.”

Cassie nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I always thought she’d be okay. I thought she was strong enough to handle anything. But now… seeing her like this, it’s like everything I thought I knew about her has been turned upside down.”

David pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said gently. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed. It’s okay to feel like you’re breaking too.”

Cassie leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a small comfort in the midst of her turmoil. “I just don’t know how to help her,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I don’t know what to do, how to fix it.”

David sighed, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion. “You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “Sometimes, just being there, just letting her know that you’re with her, is enough. You don’t have to fix everything. Sometimes, the most important thing is just showing up.”

Cassie’s grip tightened around him, the tears flowing freely now. “But I hate seeing her like this. I hate that she’s hurting, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

David’s voice was soft but steady. “You can’t take away her pain. But you can be there for her. You can listen, you can hold her, you can offer her love and support. That’s what she needs right now. And that’s what you can give her.”

Cassie took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I just feel so helpless,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to be strong for her when I’m falling apart myself.”

David cupped her face gently, tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes. “It’s okay to feel vulnerable,” he said softly. “It’s okay to be scared and unsure. What matters is that you’re there for her, that you care. You don’t have to have all the answers. Just being present, showing her that she’s not alone—that’s what really counts.”

Cassie closed her eyes, taking in his words. The reassurance in his voice was a small balm to her aching heart. She knew he was right, but the pain of seeing you suffer was overwhelming, and she struggled to see a way forward.

“She’s always been my rock,” Cassie said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “And now she’s the one who needs support, and I feel like I don’t know how to be the sister she needs me to be.”

David gently stroked her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re doing more than you realize. Just by being here, by caring, by feeling this deeply—you’re showing her that she’s loved. That’s the most important thing you can do right now.”

Cassie nodded, her tears beginning to subside as she drew strength from David’s words and his presence. She knew she couldn’t fix everything, that she couldn’t erase the pain you were feeling. But she could be there for you, could offer the love and support that you so desperately needed.

As the minutes passed, the silence in the room felt less oppressive. Cassie’s thoughts began to clear, and she focused on the steps she could take to be a better support for you. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, that there would be days of struggle and heartache. But with David’s unwavering support and love, she felt a glimmer of hope that she could find a way through it.

“I’ll be there for her,” Cassie said softly, her voice more determined now. “I’ll be the support she needs. I’ll show her that she’s not alone, that she’s still loved.”

David nodded, his smile gentle and encouraging. “That’s all she needs to know right now. And you’re more than capable of giving her that.”

Dean Winchester leaned against the hood of his old, battered car, the cool night air mixing with the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional passing vehicle. He had parked a few houses down from yours, hidden in the shadow of a large oak tree that offered just enough cover for him to remain unseen. From his vantage point, he could see your kitchen window, the soft glow of light spilling out into the darkness.

He had been here for hours, a silent observer of a life he felt he had no right to be a part of anymore. His heart ached with every glance through the window, seeing you move about the kitchen, your movements subdued, like you were carrying a weight that he could barely imagine. The sight of you—so domestic, so normal, so unbroken—made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but that gnawed at him relentlessly.

You had been cleaning up after dinner, a simple, mundane task that somehow felt monumental in the way it highlighted just how different your life was now compared to when he had been a part of it. Dean knew he shouldn’t be here. He knew that just by being in the vicinity, he was risking everything—risking your safety, your peace, your very life. But the pull to see you, to make sure you were okay, was too strong to resist.

He watched you with a painful mixture of longing and guilt as you scrubbed at a pot, your movements robotic and weary. The way your shoulders slumped, the way your hands seemed to move without purpose—it was clear that the weight of everything had taken its toll on you. He wanted to be the one to lift that weight, to take it off your shoulders, but he knew he was too dangerous, too lost in his own darkness to be of any help.

Dean’s eyes were fixed on the window when, suddenly, he saw you stop. You stood there for a moment, your back to him, and he saw the subtle tremble in your form. His heart raced, a sense of foreboding creeping up his spine. You placed the dish you were washing back into the sink with a clatter that echoed through the quiet kitchen. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he saw you sink to your knees, the sobs that racked your body muffled but unmistakable.

He wanted to move, to go inside and hold you, to comfort you the way he once had, but he was paralyzed. The thought of being so close to you—of seeing you like this—was almost more than he could bear. He could only watch, helpless, as you curled up on the cold kitchen floor, your hands clenching at the fabric of your shirt, your face buried in your knees.

Dean’s own breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Tears blurred his vision, and he wiped angrily at his eyes, the frustration and pain of seeing you like this overwhelming him. His heart ached with every sound of your sobs, each one a reminder of the hurt he had caused and the lives he had irrevocably changed.

“God damn it,” Dean muttered under his breath, his voice cracking as he struggled to keep his composure. “Don’t do this. Please…”

He felt a surge of anger toward himself, toward everything that had brought him to this point. How had it come to this? How had he ended up as the specter of your happiness, only able to watch as you fell apart? He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but all he could do was stand there, a silent witness to your suffering.

Through the window, he saw you push yourself into a sitting position, your head falling back against the cabinets as your cries gradually subsided into soft, ragged breaths. The sight of you so vulnerable, so broken, tore at him in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Every sob, every shudder, was a dagger to his heart, each one a reminder of how deeply he had failed you.

“Don’t you give up on me, sweetheart,” Dean whispered to himself, his voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t you dare.”

He paced restlessly beside the car, his hands balled into fists, the pain of being so close and yet so far from you eating away at him. His anger, his frustration, his guilt—they all swirled together in a tumultuous storm within him, threatening to drown him in their intensity. But beneath it all, there was a deep, aching love that refused to be silenced.

He could still remember the way your eyes had shone with hope and trust, the way you’d looked at him as if he were the answer to everything. And now, here he was, a ghost of that hope, a shadow of the man he used to be, unable to offer you anything but his silent grief.

The minutes stretched on, and as the night deepened, Dean’s thoughts grew darker. He hated that he was causing you this pain. He hated that his absence had left a void so deep that it had brought you to tears on your kitchen floor. His whole being was consumed by regret and sorrow, the realization that he had pushed you into this place where you felt so utterly alone.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice breaking as he fought to hold back his own tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He wanted to be the one to comfort you, to hold you through the pain, to promise you that everything would be alright. But he knew he couldn’t. Not like this. Not while he was still a threat, while his presence could endanger you.

He could see you slowly starting to pull yourself together, your movements slow and shaky. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, a defeated gesture that spoke volumes. It was clear that the pain wasn’t just in your heart—it was in every part of you. It was in the way you moved, the way you tried to regain your composure, the way you looked around the empty kitchen as if hoping for some sort of answer.

Dean’s heart ached with the desperate need to reach out, to somehow make things right. But he stayed where he was, his hands trembling as he fought to keep himself together. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this, to know just how deeply your suffering was affecting him.

The longer he watched, the more he realized that he couldn’t stay here much longer. The weight of his own emotions, the guilt of seeing you in so much pain, was becoming unbearable. He needed to leave—to put some distance between himself and the sight of you struggling, even if it meant breaking his own heart further.

As you finally pushed yourself to your feet, shakily turning off the kitchen light, Dean took one last, lingering look. He watched as you slowly made your way out of the room, your steps heavy and slow. The sight of you so subdued, so broken, was almost too much for him to bear.

“Don’t you give up on me, sweetheart,” Dean said again, his voice barely a whisper, lost in the night. “Don’t you dare.”

He turned away from the window, the sight of your pain etched into his mind. Each step away from the house felt like a weight lifting off his shoulders, but it was replaced with a heavy burden of regret and sorrow. He got into his car, his movements automatic, as he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

As he drove down the darkened streets, the tears he had fought to keep hidden finally broke free. They streamed down his face, hot and unbidden, a stark reminder of the pain he had caused and the love he still felt. The road ahead was uncertain, a dark path that mirrored the turmoil inside him.

Dean knew he couldn’t go back—not yet. Not while his presence was a danger to you. But he also knew that he couldn’t stay away forever. There would come a time when he would have to face you again, when the truth would come out, when he would have to answer for the hurt he had caused.

But for now, he drove on, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of what he had lost and what he still hoped to regain. He drove through the night, through the darkness, hoping that somewhere in the vast expanse of the world, there was a way to make things right, a way to heal the wounds he had created.

And as the miles passed beneath the wheels of his car, Dean whispered one last plea into the night, hoping that somehow, somewhere, you could hear him.

“Don’t give up on me. Please.”

The road ahead was long, and the night was dark, but Dean drove on, carrying with him the hope that someday, somehow, things would be different. That someday, he’d be able to make things right.

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[lilsoftext]

•~* HIDDEN AWAY *~•

-chris sturniolo x female reader

-summery: chris surprises sof with a much-needed weekend getaway to a secluded cabin in the woods, away from the pressures of public life and social media.

——————————————————————————

It had been a hectic few weeks for Chris and Sof. With work, social media commitments, and their friends constantly around, they barely had time to themselves. Both of them needed a break—something far from the flashing lights of cameras and the ever-watchful eyes of the internet.

Chris had planned it quietly, booking a small cabin a few hours outside the city without telling Sof the details. The only hint she had was that he told her to pack a bag for a few days. When she had asked for more, Chris just smiled and said, “You’ll see. Trust me.”

---

The car ride was filled with the soothing hum of the road beneath the tires, broken only by the occasional conversation and the music playing softly from the speakers. Sof leaned her head against the window, watching the trees blur past, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the bracelet on her wrist. Chris glanced at her from the driver’s seat, smiling to himself at how peaceful she looked.

“You okay over there?” he asked, reaching over to gently squeeze her knee.

She turned her head to look at him, offering a small, contented smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just wondering where you’re taking me.”

Chris grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

Sof playfully rolled her eyes. “You and your surprises. What if I don’t like it?”

“You will. I promise.”

She leaned back in her seat, letting out a sigh of mock exasperation. “Fine. I trust you.”

---

A couple of hours later, they pulled up to a small cabin nestled in the woods. The air was crisp and cool, with the scent of pine trees surrounding them. Sof’s eyes widened as she stepped out of the car, taking in the scene.

“Chris, this is beautiful,” she said softly, her breath catching as she looked at the cozy cabin, smoke lazily curling from the chimney.

“I thought we could use a little getaway,” he replied, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “No cameras, no internet—just us.”

Sof leaned back into him, her hands resting on his. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

They stood there for a moment, taking in the quiet of the forest around them, before Chris kissed the top of her head and grabbed their bags from the car.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get settled in.”

---

Inside the cabin, it was just as cozy as it looked from the outside. There was a stone fireplace in the living room, a fluffy rug spread out in front of it, and large windows that let in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. A small kitchen was tucked into the corner, and there was a door that led to what Sof assumed was the bedroom.

“This place is amazing,” Sof said as she wandered around, running her fingers along the wooden furniture. “How did you even find it?”

Chris shrugged, setting their bags down by the door. “I have my ways. I just wanted us to have some time alone, you know? No distractions.”

Sof turned to him, her heart swelling with affection. “I love it. Really.”

He smiled, walking over to her and pulling her into a warm embrace. “I’m glad. I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

She pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes as she breathed him in. “Me too.”

---

The first night was spent lounging by the fire. After a quick dinner they made together, Chris lit the fireplace, and they curled up on the rug with a blanket. Sof had brought a book, but she barely got through a few pages before she put it down, too content in the moment to focus on anything else. Chris was lying next to her, one arm draped over her waist, his head resting on her shoulder.

“Do you think we’ll ever get used to all of it?” Sof asked quietly, her eyes fixed on the flickering flames.

Chris shifted slightly, looking up at her. “What do you mean?”

“The attention. The constant noise. Sometimes it feels like we don’t get a moment to ourselves.”

Chris was silent for a moment, then he sat up, propping himself on his elbow to face her. “I don’t know if we’ll ever get used to it. But we can have moments like this. We can make time for each other, even if it means disappearing for a few days.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “And when we’re together like this, that’s all that matters to me.”

Sof looked into his eyes, her heart melting at his words. She cupped his face in her hands, her thumb brushing gently against his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Chris smiled, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Good thing you won’t have to find out.”

They stayed like that for a while, the only sounds coming from the crackling fire and the occasional rustle of the wind outside. It was peaceful, and Sof couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so at ease.

---

The next morning, Sof woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of birds chirping outside the window. She stretched, feeling the warmth of the blankets around her, and smiled as she realized where she was.

She found Chris in the kitchen, already dressed, flipping pancakes on the stove. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard her footsteps, grinning.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Sof smiled, walking over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. “You’re up early.”

“Had to make breakfast for my girl,” he said, turning his head to kiss her on the forehead.

She laughed softly, resting her chin on his shoulder. “You spoil me.”

“Only because you deserve it.”

They ate breakfast by the large windows, watching the sunlight filter through the trees. It was such a simple moment, but Sof cherished it. There was something about being away from the rest of the world, with no obligations, that made everything feel more real—more meaningful.

After breakfast, they decided to explore the area around the cabin. There was a small trail that led down to a lake, and the two of them spent the afternoon walking, talking, and laughing. Sof couldn’t help but notice how light Chris seemed—like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

They reached the lake just as the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the water. Sof stood at the edge, looking out at the reflection of the sky on the surface. Chris came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her once again.

“This is perfect,” Sof said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chris nodded, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah, it is.”

They stood there for a while, watching the sunset in comfortable silence. Sof felt Chris’s arms tighten around her, and she closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the moment.

“I love you,” Chris murmured, his voice soft and sincere.

Sof’s heart skipped a beat. She turned in his arms to face him, her eyes searching his. “I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice full of emotion.

Chris smiled, his eyes shining with affection. He leaned down and kissed her again, this time with more passion, as if sealing the words between them.

---

That night, they returned to the cabin, their hearts full and their spirits light. They spent the evening talking about their future—about the things they wanted to do together, the places they wanted to see. Chris told her about his dreams, and Sof shared hers, feeling more connected to him than ever before.

When it was time for bed, they curled up together under the blankets, Chris’s arm draped over her waist once more. Sof closed her eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, and smiled to herself.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt right. And as she drifted off to sleep, she knew that no matter what challenges came their way, they would always have each other.

And that was all that mattered.

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lilsoftext <3