wooden wardrobe

His First (SasuSaku Wedding Night One-shot)

Sasuke and Sakura’s wedding night. Contains smut. Please also note that Sasuke’s left arm has been replaced by Tsunade here, and this takes place after ‘The Last’ movie.

This is my first time writing a love-scene, so no flames, please. Also keep in mind this is both Sasuke and Sakura’s first time, as I’d like to think Sasuke is from a very traditional Clan and would wait until marriage to sleep with her.

Disclaimer: Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno/Uchiha belong to Masashi Kishimoto.


His First


He leads her quietly through the dim, candle-lit corridors of his ancestral family home, his bare feet treading routes that are still acutely ingrained within the deepest catacombs of his mind. The polished wooden pathways he navigates are all too familiar, and the memory is enough to tug on the old strings of nostalgia slumbering somewhere inside his chest – but there are no more ghosts or past demons, here. The compound has been fully restored to its former glory, and is ready once more for life.

Ready, once again, for love.

She follows him, her small, slender fingers tightly entwined between his longer, larger ones, and beneath the flickering glow of flame, she glimpses it once again; the telling glint of lustrous diamond that reminds her of her new status and title.

Uchiha Sakura.

The name is a musical serenade inside her head. She feels giddy, breathless, still caught in a state of star-struck awe and disbelief. She had waited and dreamt of this day, of this moment, since childhood, and it had been everything she had ever wanted and so much more. Ino and her friends had decorated the venue to perfection, and the festivities had been loud and joyous, lasting late into the evening. A little too boisterous, perhaps, for the innately private Sasuke’s tastes, and an anxious Sakura had half-feared that her handsome groom would lunge at Naruto at several points during the speeches and attempt to throttle him, when Konoha’s Seventh Hokage had launched into grossly exaggerated and thoroughly embarrassing tales of their genin-team adventures – oh so long ago.

Tales that had all suspiciously ended with them stuck in a disastrous fix - only to be miraculously rescued at the last moment by the loveable knucklehead.

Sasuke – whose ego always absolutely demanded that he outdo his rival and best friend in every single department - had scowled murderously at the insulting inaccuracy of the accounts. Sakura had gaped in appalled dismay. Kakashi, scratching his head, had looked as bemused as one could with their features secretively concealed behind a mask.

It had gotten to a point where even Sakura had been left red-faced and twitching, ready to pummel the blond to a pulp for daring to mortify her on her special day - were it not for Sasuke’s firm, restraining grip on her knee beneath the table – but then the blond had suddenly looked straight at them, and with tears shining in his eyes, had raised his glass in toast and spoken words that had stunned them both.

“We might not really be related, but these two were my family when I had nothing, when I was nobody, and they mean everything to me. Without you guys, I… I would’ve been lost. I wouldn’t have made it. Thank you, Sasuke. Sakura-chan.”

Then, in typical Naruto fashion, he had ruined the emotional moment entirely by cheekily declaring that they name their firstborn in his honour.

The smile of recollection on Sakura’s lips widens as she focuses on their joined fingers. Biting her lower lip, she releases an internal squeal of glee. Cha! All her fantasies had come true! Sasuke’s grip on her is secure, and he guides her with a certainty and confidence that makes apparent the commanding man he has become, no longer the frightened boy who had sought to sever all bonds and fled from responsibility and accountability in the past.

She then lifts her eyes to his broad back, setting them onto the red and white Uchiha emblem stitched proudly onto his traditional robes - an emblem that matches the one on her own. He is the last of a noble, prestigious line that has all but dwindled out. Sakura shyly hopes that it won’t be the case for long; that soon, there will be tiny feet padding along the wide halls, feet belonging to little cherubs who share their family name.

It is her job, she tells herself with conviction, to please him now, to meet every one of his needs – just as it is his to provide for hers. She sincerely hopes she can make him happy – but as he finally draws to a stop before a pair of sliding screen doors, Sakura feels the first flutters of apprehension replace the senseless excitement that had, up until that point, made her wedding day pass in an exhilarated rush.

Her smile falters. Suddenly she is nervous and overcome with all sorts of confidence-diminishing worries.

It is her first time. Of course she had saved herself for Sasuke – it had always only ever been him – but what if this is not his? The thought weighs heavily upon her mind, but what troubles her even more greatly is the prospect of him having high expectations – of her disappointing him.

What if I don’t satisfy him? What if I can’t relax and it hurts too much? I can’t seem to remember anything Ino or my mother told me about how to please a man, she thinks frantically to herself.

But she manages to plaster a smile onto her lips regardless as Sasuke directs a brief glance back at her, before releasing her hand to slide the doors to their new bedroom open.

They step inside, and as Sasuke quietly slides the screens shut behind them again and gives her a few minutes to settle in and adjust, Sakura’s eyes nervously bypass the low-framed, king-sized bed resting against the centre of the northern wall, to take in the sheer size of the impressive space. It is tidy, of course; she expects nothing less from a man as meticulous and orderly as Sasuke – with sturdy wooden wardrobes and shelves and carefully tended plant pots placed beside a larger set of screen doors to their right, leading out to what she assumes are the private compound’s gardens.

She is correct, for the doors slide smoothly apart as Sasuke pushes them open, and moonlight spills into the room, bathing it in an almost ethereal glow. Outside, beyond the wooden patio that provides access to other areas of their home, she glimpses an unexpected string of trees that share her name, lined against a high concrete wall bearing the Uchiha crest.

They are suitably in full bloom, in time with the early spring season.

She laughs softly in surprise, joining him by the open doors.

Sakura trees?” Her tone is light and teasing as she admires the pretty blossoms. She desperately hopes she disguises how anxious she feels on the inside. “Have you planned this all along, Sasuke-kun?”

“Hn,” her new husband – husband, her inner self screeches ecstatically – grunts, in that endearing manner of his, when he doesn’t quite feel entirely comfortable with openly admitting a truth – but isn’t inclined to lie about it, either.

Sakura distractedly fingers the Uchiha pendant he had gifted to her on her nineteenth birthday, as she watches the dusky pink petals, appearing lavender under the starry night sky’s milky illumination, flutter noiselessly to the ground.

The cool, pleasant fresh air that drifts into the room helps Sakura to clear her head for a moment. But when she feels Sasuke’s warm breath against the back of her exposed neck, she barely manages to suppress the shudder that shoots down along her spine, sending goose-pimples surfacing along her skin.

At some point, while they had been watching the peaceful, idyllic scene, he had slipped behind her. He had always had the knack, from a remarkably young age, of moving as gracefully and silently as a shadow.

“Sakura,” he exhales, as he draws back the white bridal hood that rests over her head. His voice is low. A near whisper as he takes in the significance of this situation.

Sakura closes her eyes, and takes the moment to really feel his presence behind her; his warmth, his reassuring strength and power and the undeniable masculinity he radiates. She senses his formidable, potent chakra signature, and it crackles like a rolling thundercloud in the air around them, all static, thrumming electricity that makes her cantering heart beat a little faster. His chakra flow at that moment is curiously unstable - conflicted, almost. His usual, iron-like command of it seems to have temporarily faltered.

That is wholly uncharacteristic of him, Sakura thinks to herself, and then it hits her. It hits her that perhaps the ever-composed, unshakeable Uchiha Sasuke is a little nervous, too.

Sasuke begins to lift his right hand. He is standing close behind her – close enough for her back to brush the front of his body. Close enough to smell the delectable sweetness of her fragrance, to touch her. But he is suddenly hesitant. Reluctant, almost, even when he knows that this is their long-awaited wedding night and it is to be expected that they consummate their union now.

He hesitates, but it isn’t because he doesn’t want her; Sasuke is suddenly unsettled by just how much he desires his new bride – every part of her. But he is apprehensive, too, and is trying his best not to show it. And that- that weakness of body and mind- it disturbs him.

Because he knows, if they proceed, that he will be vulnerable tonight. And he had promised himself vehemently, so many times in the past, that he would never allow himself to be unguarded ever again.

Yet he has always had a weakness in Sakura. This breath-taking woman, one he has watched bloom into the most resilient and beautiful of flowers, who has loved him for so long, and who stirs such turmoil within his heart; he is not worthy of her, he knows. But she has chosen to give herself to him in marriage, anyway. And he worries, as he notes the palpable tension in her shoulders, betraying her own jangling nerves, that he will not be enough for her. There is a lingering sense of self-doubt; that despite his best efforts to atone for his past, he cannot make her happy in the manner she truly deserves.

But he also knows that it could not have possibly ended any other way. He could not have suffered seeing Sakura with another man far less wretched than he was, content in the arms of someone else. The mere thought of anyone other than him touching her makes Sasuke’s chest burn with possessive jealousy. She is his light, the light he had thought he had lost long ago. Her gentleness in his presence, her sweetness, her care and her touch bring him to life in ways that had startled him at first – but now fuelled a terrible, ravenous need.

He was gluttonous, really, for Sakura’s affections. This unnerving reality had hit him hard, after the war, after he had travelled the world on a path of redemption and self-discovery. He had known it when he had finally returned to Konoha after two years and sought her out, like he had promised to do before he’d left her. And perhaps it makes him selfish, but he wants to take every last ounce of love Sakura has to offer, to fill his starved self to the brim with her devotion, until he never again feels the torturous pain and agony of hollow emptiness.

Still, the uncharacteristic uncertainty lingers. His throat suddenly feels peculiarly parched. Unbidden and unwanted, words spoken to him the previous night whilst he’d been out drinking with Kakashi and Naruto drifted through his head – words he hadn’t particularly wanted to hear, but had found himself foolishly listening to, anyway.

Leave it to his old, perverted sensei to provide him with some last minute, emergency advice in the bedroom department.

“The Uchiha have quite the reputation as passionate lovers, Sasuke.”

Well, that casual opener, which had caused him to almost choke on his cup of sake, hadn’t been helpful at all.

Naruto, just slightly intoxicated, had roared with laughter and dug an elbow into a coughing Sasuke’s ribs. “BWAHAHA! Really?! No pressure then, eh Sasukeee?!”

“Your wedding night is your entry into manhood.” Kakashi had gone on, to Sasuke’s dismay. “It’s a battle ground in its own right – but you can’t simply just attack your opponent as you do in ordinary battle circumstances.”

Sasuke’s ears had burned and he had frowned at this ridiculous piece of advice. Of course he hadn’t been planning on outright ambushing Sakura! What did they think he was - some kind of uncultured animal?!

Although… the fleeting thought of tackling her completely off-guard had certainly seemed appealing for a brief moment…

“Yeah,” Naruto had sniggered. “Can you imagine that? Sakura-chan’ll beat ya senseless, dattebayo!”

“I’m certain that your bride wouldn’t appreciate it,’ the former Hokage had agreed, chuckling in amusement. “You must instead be gentle, Sasuke. Sensitive. I… ah… realise this may be difficult for you; but take it slowly. Make sure she is comfortable first. You wouldn’t want to do anything to frighten her off or make her tense.”

“I’ll kick your ass if you ever hurt Sakura-chan!” Naruto had chipped in threateningly. “You know I will, bastard! I’ll kick it so hard you’ll lose all your limbs this time!”

“Shut up, usuratonkachi,” Sasuke had snapped back venomously.

“Just admit it, you asshole. You’re nervous.” His best friend had slapped him heartily on the back. “Quit trying to act all cool! We can see right through you, right, Kakashi-sensei?”

Kakashi, who was far wiser than the reckless blond, scratched the back of his head and prudently chose not to tease the last Uchiha.

“I am not,” Sasuke had hissed furiously. A blatant lie.

“HAHAHA!” Naruto had pointed with his bandaged right hand, and made Sasuke’s eyebrows twitch in mortification when one of the bar staff had glanced nosily in their direction. “You ARE! Sasuke-teme is totally nervous! Too nervous to do it with-”

Sasuke had then proceeded to gracefully kick Naruto’s stool out from underneath him, sending the loud-mouthed blond tumbling to the ground, and prompting the absolute moron of a Hokage to howl in protest.

“SASUKEEE! You piece of shit! How dare you treat your Hokage like that? I’ll have your sorry ass thrown into jail, you stupid bastard!” 

Sasuke had hastily terminated the awkward conversation at that point. He hadn’t exactly felt comfortable discussing the topic of love-making to Sakura with Naruto and their perverted old teacher. Kakashi had sighed – and as Sasuke had risen from his stool, he’d nudged a small book toward him.

“Consider it a pre-wedding gift,” his childhood sensei had stated, winking mischievously at him as Naruto had quickly forgotten his ire and started to slur nonsensically about how much he loved Team Seven. Thinking only of the need to make a speedy retreat, Sasuke had grabbed the book and left Kakashi to deal with the whinging Hokage – only to return home and almost choke when he’d realised what it was his old teacher had apparently gifted to him.

A copy of Icha Icha Make-Out Tactics. Face burning, Sasuke had decided to get rid of it right there and then – he didn’t need sex advice from such a controversial and notorious love guide - only to shamefully give into temptation and end up flicking cautiously through it.

He hadn’t taken in much. Most of it had been stupid and downright outrageous. He’d scoffed and sneered in disgust – and he might have gotten somewhat flustered in places – but one thing had stood out in all the crammed pages of rambling, raunchy nonsense.

The stressed, male-ego boosting importance of pleasing a woman first.

Sasuke’s thoughts return to the present and he swallows, and orders himself to man up. He is an Uchiha. And he must take the lead, here. He fiercely tells himself that as much as it is his wife’s duty to satisfy him physically, it is also his responsibility to tend to her needs, also.

His hands, which had hesitated before, slide up to her covered elbows. He takes the first step, and bends his head forward.

Sakura releases a disjointed breath at the feel of the tip of his aristocratic nose following the graceful curve between her neck and left shoulder. He nuzzles her, inhaling her scent deeply, but the innocence of the touch is enough to elicit tiny tingles regardless.

“Sasuke-kun,” she whispers, as he quickly grows bolder, and his arms slip around her midriff, to draw her snugly back against him.

His lips brush over the sensitive skin of her throat. Sasuke has discovered that he has a strange affinity for her creamy neck; that he likes to pay it particular attention. He thinks that surely it has something to do with the desperate need to permanently erase the haunting image of his past self’s treacherous fingers squeezing crushingly around her windpipe. He wishes to kiss her there, until he somehow forgets the nightmarish memory of his insanity-induced attempt to kill her, back then. Even when he knows that he never can – despite her already forgiving him long ago.

Sakura sighs, closing her eyes, willing her wild pulse to settle as Sasuke’s lips caress her skin with a tenderness that he hides from the rest of the world – a tenderness that is disarming, as he leaves a trail of cool little raindrop kisses that summon blazing heat in their wake. This is it, she tells herself; this is the start of her initiation into womanhood. She still somehow half expects to awaken from this dream-like fantasy; has to fight to regulate her breathing.

This is the night her heart has been yearning for - spent in the arms of the man she loves more than anything else in the world.  

But she fears for the intensity of her emotions, already so overcome, when they are both still fully clothed. Her heart pounds harder still, when Sasuke’s hands move to tug demandingly at the sash around her waist and remove the first, heavy layer of her elaborately-layered wedding kimono. His unsteady fingers fumble sometimes, and Sakura has to help him, giggling with coy, girlish embarrassment. Before she knows it, however, she is left only in the final silk under layer.

Sasuke then turns her around to face him. He handles her with painstaking caution – as if fearful that applying any pressure will break her, like she is made of the very same glass he knows she can effortlessly shatter. Their eyes meet, and Sakura feels breathless as his piercing charcoal irises smoulder into her, catching the silver of the moonlight behind them. There is clear intent in his heavy gaze – yet she thinks she can perhaps see the same flicker of uncertainty that plagues her, also, as he takes her hands in his and reels her slowly away from the patio view and back toward their marital bed, his eyes never once leaving hers.

Biting her lower lip shyly, Sakura reaches out to him, proceeding to undress him also. Her hands are visibly shaking, and he has to help her in places, too. When the top of his formal attire is finally cast aside, and he stands before her, all rippling, taut muscles and steely masculinity, she swallows thickly, her lips suddenly oddly dry. Her work in the hospital means she is no stranger to topless men – but this is Sasuke, and now they are alone.

Her eyes wander admiringly over his broad shoulders, his lean, smoothly muscled arms, the strongly sculpted plains of his bare chest and the defined ridges of his abdomen. She sees the many battle scars, some faded more than others, and she thinks their imperfections only make him even more beautiful, like artistic maps carved upon his skin, each mark representing a different struggle, its own unique story.

To think, that this glorious body is now all hers and hers alone…

Sakura licks her lips. “Sasuke-kun,” her voice wobbles precariously to her horror, and she can feel the inferno raging in her cheeks. She has the urge to slide her palms all over those mouth-watering pectorals, but she is all at once pitifully flustered, and frozen by the sight of him. “Ah- I-”

He can see her nervousness all too clearly. This simply will not do, he tells himself, his eyebrows furrowing marginally, for her to be so tense. Trust Sakura to be so annoying. Clearly she requires some additional encouragement. Deciding to do something about it, he grasps her right wrist in his newly-replaced left hand – still healing and tightly bandaged up to the elbow – and pulls her close. Then, before she can babble anything else incoherent, he bends his head down and presses his parted lips lightly against hers.

Sakura’s eyes widen and the air in her lungs hitches. Of course she has been kissed by Sasuke before – multiple times, in fact – but each time sparks fly and it still feels like the very first. Butterflies break free inside her stomach, wings tickling and fluttering in agitation, and warmth floods through her. His right arm slips around her waist, and tugs her forward so that she is pressed against the nakedness of his upper body. She finally closes her eyes and her heart thunders against her rib-cage, as she tentatively lifts her hands to his bare skin, fingers gliding, seeking, exploring. His heat singes her, and once she has touched him, Sakura seems unable to stop.

The kiss is slow and chaste to begin with, and makes Sakura’s insides quiver. Then it quickly grows into something more volatile, full of frightening desperation and raw, ravenous need. A depth of hunger that leaves them both breathless. Sakura’s arms wrap around his neck and the slanting pressure of his lips on hers increases as the kiss hardens and deepens. Soon it is fiery and bruising, and Sakura’s head is reeling from the lack of oxygen. She can feel Sasuke’s chest heaving as he crushes her against him.

They stumble sightlessly backwards, toppling onto the bed, and somehow she lands on top of him. Sasuke is certain that his heart has never before drummed this hard or fast, and there is an aching, heavy throb developing between his legs. Sakura is straddling his waist, and it is peculiarly starting to become increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else but her, as he looks up at her charmingly flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips.

He thinks that he maybe likes the sight of her, on top of him.

Instinct and desire seem to override Sakura’s nerves, then, as she gazes down at him, as if entranced. Her palms slide slowly, experimentally, over his rock-hard abdomen, to the steely pectoral muscles she had been itching to caress just minutes earlier, and with the tantalising, teasing motion, the throb inside him intensifies. When she leans forward to trail sweet butterfly kisses along his collarbone, he swallows thickly. Sakura’s mouth continues to explore his chest, and she giggles a little against his skin, with the shyness of touching him in newfound, bold places.

When she finally draws back, her hands flat against his toned stomach, she smiles down at him.

“Am I heavy, Sasuke-kun?” she teases, referencing a long ago, childhood memory.   

Sasuke blinks at her; he remembers it immediately.

“Hn,” he scoffs, smirking; for all her famed strength, she is now a mere feather when he holds her in his arms. Then he reaches out to yank her eagerly forward, capturing her lips hungrily once again. His hands wade into her prettily arranged, pale rose hair, and he starts to pull out the decorative pins and blasted accessories that keep her silky locks prisoner from his seeking touch. He feels them snag in resistance in his haste, and this causes Sakura to whimper in half-hearted protest against his mouth, but soon he can feel no more obstructions, and her fine tresses tumble free between his fingers – though only his bare right hand can fully appreciate their softness.

Her hands cup his face, stroking tenderly, and suddenly the remaining clothes between them seem to be an awful hindrance. She wants to feel the scorching heat of his skin, to experience those coiled muscles tensing against her.

“Sasuke-kun,” she gasps into the dimness, as she briefly draws back for a breath. “I-”

“Be quiet,” he mutters back, too distracted by the sweet curve of her jawline to concentrate on what she wants to say or waste precious air on words. Before she can respond, he moves lightning fast and effortlessly flips their positions, pinning her down beneath him. Then his lips are on her throat again - and so is his hot tongue. It devours the column of her neck, and he clamps his lips over her skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. He wants to brand her all over her. He alternates between this and directing a sizzling trail of impassioned kisses that prompt Sakura to release the sort of sound that would surely make even Ino blush.

A pleading, soft moan. And it is like a detonation exploding inside Sasuke’s ears – an enticing musical symphony that makes his heart gallop faster still. He wants to hear it again. He wants her to say his name like that. Sakura bites her lower lip, as if ashamed of the noise – but he simply smirks down at her, letting her know that he likes it. Very much.

She wriggles beneath his weight, and he succeeds in removing the final layer of her wedding kimono, leaving his bride in only her lacy undergarments. His hands quickly make short work of discarding those too, as his lips continue to distract her, hovering over her jawline, to her face, where he proceeds to kiss her burning cheeks, her little button nose, her forehead, her right earlobe. Sakura protests at this teasing and pulls his mouth back demandingly to hers. His weight crushes down upon her, and the increased skin to skin contact causes a foreign tingling sensation to kindle inside her lower belly.

Sasuke draws briefly back to allow them both the chance to fill their deprived lungs with much needed oxygen. She is already breathless and flushed; her eyes are heavy-lidded with passion and desire. He doesn’t think he has ever seen anything more beautiful in his life, and he feels a sense of masculine pride and accomplishment, knowing that he is the one getting her all flustered.

His dark eyes lower to appreciatively take in the soft swell of her breasts. It then strikes Sakura that she is completely naked; she had been so diverted by his kisses before, and he had removed her underwear so swiftly, that she hadn’t even really paid it much thought. Almost instinctively, she begins to raise her arms self-consciously over her chest, fearful that he will think her not ample enough or up to his standards.

Her husband, however, stops her, gripping her wrists firmly to prevent her from concealing his view.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. He does not want her to hide any part of her from his eyes.

Shyly, she allows him to press her arms back down against the mattress. He is silent, baffled by how she could possibly be ashamed of her beautiful body, as he greedily drinks up the sight of her petite, feminine form, his gaze roaming over her creamy breasts, her flat, toned stomach – and finally settling on the triangle of soft pink curls between her legs.

His breath hitches. The desire inside him now is near crippling, the heat unbearable as he feels his manhood stir beneath the lower robes he has still yet to remove.

Sasuke knows what he wants. Natural instinct dictates it to him - the need to claim her at last as his, to bury himself deep inside her hot core, to empty himself into her until they are both breathless and spent.

“S-Sasuke-kun,” her voice shakes, and this catches him off guard. His eyes dart back to her face, to find unexpected tears shining in her verdant irises. She suddenly looks so vulnerable. So slight. Unsettled and put out by this, he raises his right hand to her flushed left cheek, where she can feel his fingertips brushing over her skin.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, silently worrying that he is maybe moving too fast for her, or somehow doing something incorrectly.

She bites her quivering lower lip. Swallows back the thickness in her throat, before she chokes out emotionally, unable to hold back her insecurities any longer, “I- I love you, Sasuke-kun! I love you so much! And I want to make you happy, but-” she squeezes her eyes shut, and confesses, “I don’t want to disappoint you. I-!” She breaks off, when he abruptly taps the diamond yin seal on her forehead with his index and middle fingers, a familiar gesture of affection between them that seeks to calm her down.

He meets her gaze, holds it steady.

“Just relax,” he attempts to reassure her – only for one corner of his mouth to turn down at the sight of her eyes welling with tears. Then they are spilling, and Sasuke curses himself internally.

Always, he makes her cry. Even now. He never knows the right thing to say-

Frustrated, he lowers his lips to her cheeks, kissing away the tears. The unexpected gentleness of this touch only makes their volume increase. Sakura wraps her arms around his neck in happiness, yanks him down to her, and silences her sobs against his shoulder.

Misinterpreting this as genuine upset and even more disturbed by the feel of her trembling beneath him, Sasuke realises that she must be afraid, and suggests, with great restraint, “Sakura, I-” he swallows. “We can stop.”

“No,” her muffled voice answers. “No, Sasuke-kun- it’s just-” in a barely audible whisper, she admits, “This is my first time. I…” she laughs a little in embarrassment. “I waited for you.”

He exhales in understanding. Then he pulls back, stares at her. He wants to tell her this is his first time, too, but she is already reaching out to him again. He bends his head to kiss her more gently. And like a flower, he feels her open up beneath him, her lips parting, her body gradually relaxing once again.

He had always imagined that Sakura would remain faithful to him, but to hear her openly confirm it fills him with a rush of warmth that is almost overwhelming. Sasuke tells himself that he will not give himself relief before he pleasures her – before she is ready to receive him. His mouth moves from hers, to her throat once again, before lowering to explore the valley between her breasts. But he falters before he touches her there, suddenly strangely hesitant again.

He glances up at her. She seems to understand, too, for she takes his right hand, and shyly guides it to where she wants him to touch her. He cups her left breast, marvelling at its silky softness and weight. Then he begins to massage it, prompting a little whimper to escape Sakura’s lips as he kneads it gently, before rolling her nipple experimentally between his index finger and thumb.

This causes her to stiffen in surprise. He looks up at her again, to find her eyes are closed. The air escaping her mouth is growing shallow and quick. She enjoys being touched like this, he notes with satisfaction, storing it in mind for future reference, and does it again, prompting the same pleasurable reaction. Her moan is even louder, when he lowers his parted lips to the mound, swirling his rough tongue around its sensitive, aroused bud before taking it completely into his mouth, sucking gently.

“Ohhh,” her back arches, as his left hand moves to stimulate the unoccupied breast that is not receiving worship from his tongue. “Sasuke-kun…” she groans, as she reaches out to his head with a hand, fisting her fingers through his fine raven hair.

These new, unfamiliar sensations - they feel so good. Her inner self boasts that of course they do; Sasuke-kun had always been remarkably proficient with his hands. Who could have known, however, that his tongue would turn out equally as delightful? But she can’t think coherently enough to communicate this to him, while his mouth is doing such tantalising things to her.

The sound of his name falling so huskily from her lips spurns him onwards, encourages him to continue, sends him on a quest to elicit even more. He wants her to be more vocal. Because surely the louder she becomes, the better he is performing.

And as with everything else he does, Sasuke has to be the very best.

He then turns his focus to the other breast, sucking and fondling and caressing, before growing even bolder, directing a trail of feather-light kisses along her abdomen. Sakura is now almost panting with need and the heat in her lower belly intensifies. It is radiating to the unchartered territory between her legs, centralising as a throbbing ache that demands urgent attention. She squeaks in alarm as he ventures lower, his hair tickling her skin as he teases her pelvic bone, before brushing his lips over her inner thighs.

She gulps, jerking in startled surprise, when they drift a little too close to her womanly core. She does not expect Sasuke to be this daring during their first time – but clearly he has no issues with intimacy of this degree, for his bandaged left hand presses firmly down against her abdomen to keep her in place, while his right parts her thighs to allow him better access.

“Sasuke-kun!” she yelps, her cheeks burning as she scrambles to push herself up onto her elbows. “No- wait. Please!” 

Her reaction is interesting, and so is the increased tension he detects in her body. Sasuke flicks a heavy-lidded glance up at her, and gives her a smug smirk, so utterly devious and sexy that her heart jumps into her throat. Something tells him that he has her now. She gapes at him – and when he disregards her half-hearted plea and runs an index finger experimentally over her inner folds, he is rewarded with the sight of his wife biting down on her lower lip – hard - as her eyebrows furrow together.

He strokes her tantalisingly again, and she releases a strangled sound. He watches her face curiously, intently, using the cues he is receiving from her body to discover which spots excite her most. Her expression is caught somewhere between the blurred boundaries of embarrassment and eagerness. Sakura clearly likes the feeling – but obviously thinks his mouth shouldn’t be anywhere near down there.

It is almost enough to draw a chuckle of amusement from him. She is his. He can touch her wherever he pleases, using any part of his body he likes. And if this area is what flusters her most, then Sasuke tells himself that he will just have to pay it special, particular attention.

He parts her folds, finding the small bud of her clitoris. Sakura releases another choked sound when he brushes his index finger over it.

“Sasuke-kun-!” she manages through tightly clenched teeth. “Please-!” The sensation his touch is eliciting is positively sinful, a tingling burn that is steadily growing into a force so unstoppable, it leaves Sakura’s head spinning. When his thumb begins to stimulate the sensitive spot further in a slow, steady, circular motion, she rewards him with her loudest moan yet, clutching almost painfully onto the sheets underneath her.

“Ahhn! Sasuke-kun!”

He immediately responds to her vocal feedback, his pace and rhythm quickening. The musky scent of her turns him on, and he can feel her growing moister under his touch. It is the most incredibly arousing sight he has ever seen; Sakura, all hot and bothered and sexually excited before him.

And loving her like this, giving her pleasure; it feels so very right.

Panting, she glances down to watch him through half-lidded eyes, before her elbows give out, sending her collapsing fully onto the bed once again. She turns her head, and tries desperately to muffle the sinful sounds in her throat – sounds she did not even realise she could make – by pressing her mouth against one of the scattered pillows beside her.

Sasuke’s eyes narrow disapprovingly. He will have none of that. Keeping his right hand working in its position, he lifts himself up over her and leans forward, catching her chin with his fingers. Angling her face back toward him, he meets her pleasure hazed gaze directly.

“I want to hear you,” he tells her, and quickens the circular motion of his thumb even further, as if to punish her for even attempting to deny him of the lustful exclamations leaving her lips.

Sakura’s back arches in response, her head falls back, and she rapidly loses the will to swallow back her moans any more. Any previous embarrassment is replaced entirely by pure, selfish lust as the tingles rapidly grow in intensity. “Ahhh!” she whimpers. “Oh! Yes! Right there, Sasuke-kun! Ohhh!”

His eyes fix onto her face in wonder. Suddenly, he cannot look away. When she lifts her hands to clutch frantically at her breasts, his breathing becomes more laborious. He can feel the searing heat between his legs growing underneath his robes, throbbing for the same attentions he is giving to her. And suddenly his thumb against her growing slickness is not enough. He wants to taste her. Sakura gasps when, without warning, he replaces his hand with his tongue, swirling hotly around her bundle of nerves.

“Ahhnn!” she cries out, the tension in her lower belly, tightening and coiling until it becomes near unbearable, verging on the sweet agony that accompanies pre-release. Sasuke is ruthless, and does not relent. The blood rushes in his ears and each and every one of Sakura’s throaty, sexy moans urge him to quicken his movements, to bring her to the very edge of the explosive summit she is rapidly climbing.

“Ahhhh! Sasuke-kun! Oh, God! Yes. Yes! I’m-! I- ahhhh!” Her hips begin to buck on instinct, pushing her clit more firmly up against his ravenous mouth.

Sasuke holds her down more firmly, and rewards her yearning pleas by applying more pressure and sucking harder, and she momentarily stiffens, then cries out his name as the constricting coil inside her abruptly snaps, sending wave after wave of rhythmic pleasure coursing through her.


It is a feeling unlike anything she has ever experienced, and Sakura’s head falls back as her entire body arches upwards, arms splaying as the euphoric sensation washes over her. Her heart is thundering at an unnatural pace that will surely induce some form of cardiac arrest, but she can’t focus on that, can only feel the pure ecstasy he has given to her.

He presses her abdomen down, preventing her from trying to jerk her hips away, forcing her to ride out the remainder of her climax before his eyes as he finally pulls back to find a trail of liquid leaking from the opening of her virginal entrance. She has loosened up and relaxed completely, is wet and ready for him.

Self-satisfaction and masculine pride swell inside his chest once more, as a smug Sasuke acknowledges that he has given Sakura her first orgasm. And she seems to have thoroughly enjoyed it, too.

And suddenly, now that he has given his wife her release, Sasuke finds that he can no longer hold back the need for his own.

She remains there for a minute, heart racing, trying to gulp down air, stares dizzily up at the high ceiling above them as she struggles to catch her breath, the after-glow of her first climax lingering deliciously. Her mind is blown, and her entire body feels warm and wonderful.

Tsunade-shishou had slyly teased her about the Uchiha being famed lovers, possessing a stamina that was uncommon. She begins to think she might understand the reputation, for she and Sasuke have not really even begun, and for him to pleasure her already like this first, even before he had entered her-

“Sakura-” he utters thickly, his own heart hammering against his rib-cage. It is all at once senseless and consuming, how terribly his body desires their union. He cannot fathom how he has gone so long without this physical closeness with her. Still panting, Sakura understands, and reaches for him, nodding. He has melted away her tension, made her feel at ease. It is now her turn.

She wants to give him the same pleasure he has given to her.

She lifts herself off the bed and leans forward, pressing a palm to his strong chest to push him back down onto the mattress. Sasuke is internally pleased by her increased boldness, and complies. Then she climbs onto him and straddles his hips. She bites her lip and experimentally begins to rub her wet core against the growing hardness she can feel underneath his lower robes.

“Sasuke-kun,” she breathes. “Is this- is this okay?”

It is more than that. Sasuke only manages a terse nod. He is too diverted by the pleasurable feeling of her gyrating down on him to verbally respond.

Just as he had watched her responses before, Sakura now watches him closely also, using every visible cue her eyes can detect to pleasure him. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees the way his jaw clenches tightly as he watches her, and his features contort slightly, as if in pain. Sakura’s heart soars at this encouragement and she is eager to bring out more new expressions. She soon finds a steady rhythm, and grinds backwards and forwards against him, breasts bouncing, which drives Sasuke near wild. He reaches out, runs his hands over her silky upper thighs. She is driving him crazy. He needs to be inside her soon. The ache in his groin is near agonising, now, and Sasuke isn’t sure how much longer he can hold back.

The friction begins to stimulate Sakura once more, too, and she throws her head back as she rocks against him, eager to reach the heights of ecstasy again.

“Haah…” she exhales, closing her eyes as she quickens her movements.

But Sasuke, now fully aroused, can wait no more. In one swift, predatory movement that knocks a surprised Sakura off her newfound perch, he shoves her off him.

“…!” She barely manages to snag a breath before his lips crash down against hers, while his hands move to hastily unfasten and discard his lower garments.

“Sakura,” he whispers; the strain inside him all too evident in the creases on his forehead. “I can’t,” he speaks through clenched teeth, “-hold back- anymore-!”

She nods breathlessly, and as he places his elbows on either side of her head and lowers his body to position himself between her parted legs, she laces her fingers with his.

She squeezes tightly, her eyes wide and brimming with tears of another kind. Happiness, he realises, and is so moved by the pure and ardent love shining in her eyes as she gazes up at him in that moment, that it is enough to render him speechless. He lowers his head, touching his forehead to hers as he exercises every last shred of restraint he possesses to wait for her signal, his heart a frantic drum.

She seems to understand how much this means to him, for it is she who whispers to him lovingly, “I’m ready now, Sasuke-kun.”

The hardness of his length prods her slick opening. Sakura gulps as she anticipates the inevitable discomfort that will accompany their two bodies becoming one at last. But this time, she is fully prepared for it.

Sasuke bites his lower lip – and then nature takes its course.

Her breath hitches in her throat as he penetrates her in one swift, forceful thrust and drowns his groan into the crook of her neck. Then she is gasping at the sheer, unexpected fullness of him, of his agonising thickness and length - the way he seems to stretch her walls so completely, to way beyond their limits.

“Ah!” she cannot help but cry out, overcome by the sharp, stinging, burning pain, but Sasuke is quick to silence her with bruising kisses, as he pins her arms above her head. They help to distract Sakura enough as he fights against his raging desire, and remains completely still within her, waiting for her to acclimatise to him. It is a few minutes before he dares to move again, sliding slowly out of her, gritting his teeth as he does so.

His eyes briefly close, eyebrows furrowing. Fuck. She is so incredibly tight. Her heat surrounds him to his hilt like a molten sheath, and he does not think he can stand the delicious friction. The sensation is divine, like no other he has ever known, and he worries that he cannot hold back, that he will hurt her if he goes too hard and too fast, in the way his body is urging and begging him to do.

Gentle. He has to be gentle, he reminds himself. But the heat is unbearable, and all he wants is to dominate her completely-

Sakura moans, eyes closing as he eases back in carefully, pushing as far as he can, as deeply as her cavern can take.

“Sakura,” his dark eyes check on her, as he struggles to regulate his own breathing.

“I’m fine,” she gasps, and he finally releases her hands to caress her face, wiping at the tears that had spilt when he had initially entered her. She opens her eyes and offers him an unsteady smile. “Really, Sasuke-kun,” she reassures. “I’m- haah,” she huffs, expertly channelling healing chakra to the source of pain. Immediately it helps, reducing the worst of it to a dull ache. “I’m fine,” she says again, encouraging him to continue.

He nods, and gingerly resumes. And being inside her feels so good, he does not understand how he has gone for so long without knowing such intimate pleasure. He senselessly thinks he ought to have married her right after the war, for he does not think he can now ever get enough. Sasuke half-fears for what this will mean - what it will do to them both – for a passion this dangerous will surely set them both aflame – but he cannot bring himself to worry for it, then. For the first time in his life, his body completely overrides the wishes of his mind as it pursues one thing and one thing alone.

He bites down on his tongue, fighting against the groan that begs to fly free from his throat as he plunges in and out of her, his movements slow, inexperienced and disjointed at first, but he has always been a fast learner, and when he is certain that Sakura’s discomfort has waned, he soon gains a steady rhythm.

Their slick bodies slap against each another as he drives into her with increasing force, causing the mattress beneath them to creak against its bedframe.

Sakura’s soft hands are then in his hair, tender and adoring, and she whispers that she loves him again as she wipes the perspiration from his brow. Sasuke knows this truth, has never doubted it since they were twelve, and responds, plunging faster and harder into her until she begins to whimper once again with renewed need. Every thrust drives him closer to the edge, increasing the torturous friction between them until he feels himself rapidly climbing to his peak.

He hisses her name, overwhelmed by the tantalising way her walls clench around his length. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to release, and suddenly she is all he can see, all he can feel, all he can think about. There is only her in the world, and nothing else.


Her fingers are now roaming over his chest, gripping onto his strong shoulders. The dull pain is all but forgotten as the familiar, burning tingle returns and overrides everything else, roaring to life like a furnace blazing into being inside her lower belly. The weight of him above her, the feel of his muscles tightening with strain against her makes Sakura writhe beneath him.

“Unh!” she cries out as he picks up further speed, slamming into her with something akin to near-desperation. “Ah! Sa-su-ke-ku-un!” she moans his name pleadingly, her words punctuated by his forceful thrusts. The tantalising feel of his thick, throbbing cock as it ploughs deeply and relentlessly into her is driving her to disorientation. “Ah! Ah! Ah!” 

The heat and friction are now excruciating. A delirious Sasuke feels like he is losing his mind at the sight and sound of her writhing and moaning under him, and kisses her deeply to swallow back his own groans. Almost angrily, he plunges his tongue ravenously into her mouth, teeth nipping and biting as his hands move to squeeze her breasts. Her tongue dances against his. clashing for dominance, and she wraps her arms tightly around his neck, yanking him closer. Her legs lift to hook around his waist, increasing the slant and friction between them further. Sasuke grunts with effort as he continues to pound almost mercilessly into her, and feels as though he is being swept along by the irrepressible tides of tempestuous passion. He cannot fight against the force, can only drown with her, into her. She is the only thing that anchors him, his only hope of salvation.

He needs her. At that moment, Sasuke needs her so much, so desperately and so wretchedly, that it steals his breath away.

Sakura’s toes curl and her nails claw down the skin of his back with a force that she is certain will leave angry red marks. But he doesn’t care. It simply heightens the exhilarating sensations coursing through him.

“Khh!” he releases an incoherent, strangled sound, informing her that he is close. So, so close. But he does not want to reach his climax alone. He wants her to orgasm before him, again, is absolutely adamant that she will – and shoves a hand down to her clit again. He rubs at it, his rhythm irregular, frantic and distracted – but the extra stimulation is enough to send her crashing over the edge again.

“Ahhhn!” she screams, nails digging into him like sharp talons. “Sasuke-kuuun! Yes! Yes! Yes!

And as her walls contract tightly and rhythmically around him, Sasuke finally reaches his peak right after her. The pressure and tantalising tension coiling inside him overflow to boiling point and erupt as his hot seed empties into her, and pure pleasure unlike anything he could ever have imagined tears like a riptide through every inch of his body. He is unable to stop the guttural groan from escaping his throat, and is carried through the waves of bliss by the delectable sound of Sakura crying out his name, over and over again. It is an extreme adrenaline rush, an incomparable euphoric high that sends his soul soaring, makes his throat close over with a depth of emotion wholly alien to him.

It is enough to leave him quivering inside.

His movements become more disjointed as he rides out the last, lingering remains of his orgasm, panting heavily against Sakura’s sticky neck. She holds him, stroking his hair as he begins to descend from the heavenly heights of pleasure. Sasuke gives her one final, deep, tantalisingly slow thrust – then collapses and grows still against her, remaining deeply embedded inside her heated core.

For a long time, they are quiet, the silence between them broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing. Sasuke feels a sense of warmth, peace and fulfilment that he has never experienced before, lying there in her arms, his ear pressed against her left breast, where he can hear the soothing sound of her heartbeat as it gradually slows to its regular, resting rhythm.

It is not long before his eyelids grow heavy, and he tries to fight it, because there is something he wants to say to her, but his mind seems to have abandoned him entirely, for his thoughts are scattered and clouded, and even speaking seems to require too much energy.

“I love you, Sasuke-kun,” she whispers into the darkness, a lullaby that lulls him into the blissful arms of sleep.

But her voice is enough to trigger a final, valiant fight for remembrance inside his head, and he mumbles her name and what he thinks it was he wanted to say, uncertain whether he really manages to articulate it at all as slumber finally takes him.

Sakura’s eyes pool with tears of contentment and her heart is ready to burst from happiness as she stares up at the ceiling, when his drowsy, but unmistakeable words reach her ears.  

“Sakura. Thank you.”


Cough. Yeah. I hope this didn’t disappoint, guys. Again, please keep in mind this is THE FIRST time I am writing a full on love scene, so obviously there’s room for improvement. Thanks for reading and please LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT and share so other SasuSaku fans can read!

Another love-scene oneshot, which will happen after Sarada is born when Sasuke returns from a long mission away, will be written when I find the time.

This will be posted on FF.net tomorrow.


Request from @maxiverseCould you do a Draco x reader where they are in DADA and working with boggarts. And the readers Boggart is Draco in a Death Eaters uniform (mask etc) Thank you x

Sure! Thanks so much for requesting, this has been so fun to write! I hope you enjoy :)

The whole class piled into the huge Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, causing you to get shoved by a Slytherin several times. “Hey watch it, Y/H/N!” Pansy screeched at you when you accidentally stood on her foot. You hated Pansy with a deep passion, and she hated you too, especially considering you’re dating the prince of Slytherin himself, Draco Malfoy. 

He’d seemed off lately and you had no idea why. He’d been spending a lot more time with his father and he hated Harry more than ever. You’d been worried about him. What if he was getting into something dangerous? What if he was in something a lot deeper than anything he’d ever experienced? If he was engaged in dark magic? Draco was the only person you cared about on this earth, you loved him.

You found Draco and intertwined your hand with his, him giving you a reassuring smile. You knew what this lesson was going to be on, Professor Lupin had told the class last lesson that you’d be working with Boggarts and the thought terrified you - you didn’t want the whole year finding out your biggest fear. You’d poured your heart out to Draco the night before, and he’d been there for you. It was one of the first times since the beginning of the year the two of you had had some alone time. You’d even considered purchasing some of the Weasley’s puking pastilles for an excuse to skip this class, but Draco didn’t let you. Yet here you stood, waiting in line to face your worst fear. The time Professor Lupin spent preparing the whole class seemed like seconds, yet everyone was now excited to see what this lesson would entail.

Somehow, you’d been pushed to third in the line and the two people in front of you’s turn seemed to be over before you’d even had the chance to blink. It was your turn. You slowly stepped forward, each step shaky and unsure. You quickly looked behind you, the eyes of all of your peers boring into your face, every single person pushing to get a look at what would emerge from the huge wooden wardrobe.

“You remember what to do, correct, Y/N?” Professor Lupin asked, concern covering his face. You slowly nodded, not wanting to say anything in case your voice broke. You swallowed your fear and signalled for Professor Lupin to unlock the closet. The tension within the class was unbearable. Everyone wanted to see what Y/N, the girlfriend of Draco Malfoy feared most. 

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what would step out. You expected spiders, zombies, Jason Vorhees or maybe even a psychotic killer to step out. The whole class gasped when Draco stepped out. You felt your cheeks flush red when you realised this was your biggest fear, and you couldn’t stop it. 

He pulled off the huge black hood covering him, revealing a silver mask with snake-like slits for eyes, a bold, black dark mark taking over his forearm. You knew, somewhere deep within you that this would happen. A dark part of you felt angry, yet you knew that this was a Boggart, and not Draco. Draco belonged one of the most prestigious families within the dark magic community and knew he wasn’t immune to the idea of being a death eater. You broke out into a series of sobs, unable to contain yourself. 

Noticing you couldn’t muster up enough courage to cast the spell through shock, Draco pushes you aside, the Boggart immediately turning into you, laying lifeless on the floor. With a shaky voice, he yells, “Riddikulus!” and it turns into a kitten. 

What just happened? Draco looks at you with hurt in his eyes. “Your worst fear is me as a death eater?” You were embarrassed. He’s for sure going to break up with you now, now that you’ve embarrassed him in front of the whole class and practically confessed your biggest fear was him.

You slowly nod your head, still aware that the whole class are still listening, even Professor Lupin’s interested to hear more. “That’s ridiculous. You know I’d never do that, Y/N. I used to think I wanted to follow my father’s footsteps, but not anymore.”

“Then why have you been spending more time with him?” You ask, tears freely flowing down your face. You haven’t even had time to process Draco’s biggest fear, which turned out to be you, dead. 

Draco asks to be excused, and Lupin allows it, ushering Dean Thomas to take his turn as he was behind you in the line. You follow Draco outside into the hallway, your eyes still red and your heart still thumping a million times per minute. “I’ve been spending more time with him because he’s tutoring me, he’s helping me with lessons.” Draco mumbles. You suddenly feel so stupid - how could Draco possibly be a death eater? You knew he was better than that, he was changing. You smile. 

“But what about your biggest fear? You’re seriously scared of losing me?” You ask, staring into his hypnotic eyes. He bows his head.

“You’re the only person in this world I care about. I know I’ve been spending less time with you lately, but that does not mean I don’t care about you anymore. Besides, you’re the one that’s afraid of me becoming a death eater!” Draco replies, smiling as he wipes my remaining tears away with his thumb.

“I suppose.” You reply. You fall into Draco’s arms and he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“I love you, Y/N, you git.” He mumbles, his arms tightening around your body. 

A Way Out

TITLE: A Way Out

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 of 5 (I hope)

AUTHOR: MaliceManaged

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being kidnapped and meeting Loki, who is trapped in a network of mirrors. Bored and with nothing better to do, he decides to help you escape, figuring he’ll never see you again after you’re gone. But as soon as you’re able, you return intending to rescue him…


NOTES/WARNINGS: This was supposed to be a one-shot, maybe two-shot, and then it… wasn’t. I’ll just… yeah.


    The sounds of a struggle filled the halls as she tried to kick, claw and bite her way out of her captor’s grasp. Unsuccessfully, but at least she was trying. A small comfort as she was tossed onto a mattress on the floor and chained to the wall by a cuff around her ankle.

    “You can’t just keep me here! I want to go home!” She screamed, not caring if she sounded like a child. She was angry and scared; she figured it was her right.

Keep reading

Mystery Woman [Part 5]

Pairing: Alexander Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Yours and Alex’s last day together.

Trigger Warnings: Some talk of domestic abuse, historical inaccuracies

Tags:  @insane-hamilton-imagines, @sbobsessions, @consumed-by-musicals, @hamiltonsquills, @spookass, @superwholockbooknerd526 , @gum-and-chips, @marvelous-hamilfan, @fandommanic66, @heimganger, @hamilsquad-hq, @nicemoviebutthebookwasbetter, @for-god-sake-john-sit-down, @burrnsir, @nataliemoorexoxo

Morning came too fast.

You were both still wrapped in the sheets and void of clothing. You couldn’t sleep that night, knowing what was coming. You assumed Alex didn’t sleep either; you felt him constantly playing with your hair as he left an occasional kiss at the top of your head. You saw the sun rise from the corner of your eye hours ago, but you didn’t dare to sit up.

If you sat up, it meant that you were one step closer to ending whatever it was that you and Alexander had.

“It’s almost noon.” Alex said, his fingertips now lightly massaging your scalp.


“We should get up.”

“We should.”

“On three?”

“Guess so.”

“One, two, three!”

You both reluctantly sat up at the same time, begging for time to stand still. You felt him staring at you, so you rolled your eyes and chuckled, “What?”

“I want to make sure I remember this.”

That comment gave you the small push you needed to stand up, clutching the sheets to your body. Before you could get far, Alex grabbed a tight hold on the end of the sheet. He started to pull you back as you sighed, “Alex-”

“What?” He smiled playfully. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

“So is your wife, Alexander.”

The smile dropped at the mention of his wife. “That’s what this is about?” He asked. He had long let go of the sheet which had allowed you to grab a fresh pair of panties and a bra. He watched as you did so, trying to memorize everything about you. The way you move, talk, smile, laugh. He wanted it all ingrained in his memory in case whatever they did that day worked, and he was sent home. Away from you. “Y/N, I love you. You know that. But I can’t just leave Eliza; she’s pregnant!”

“I’m not upset about you going home to your pregnant wife. I’m upset because you’re acting like what we did last night wasn’t wrong!” You told him. “Did it feel wrong to you?” He asked.

You ran a hand through your hair as he threw the blankets off. You blushed at his bare manhood as he searched for his boxers, images from the night before flooding your mind. “Not at the time. But you’re married!” You picked them up from your feet and whistled for his attention.

He walked over to you and took the boxers from your hand, quickly sliding them on. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you close. “I’m not saying it wasn’t immoral. But wrong? Since when is two people loving each other wrong?”

You couldn’t stand it. Being this close was exactly the problem. You couldn’t love him. He was a man from the past with a pregnant wife. You didn’t know how to be the other woman. You didn’t want to be the other woman. You turned your head as Alex leaned down to kiss you, “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“That was so cliche.”


“Fine.” He dropped his hands from your waist. “I was just trying to make the most of whatever this is, but,” You saw him thinking intently on his next words, the pain in his heart showing evidence in the frown on his lips, “I guess we were never supposed to happen.”

You watched him silently as he gathered his clothing from every which way. Regret softened your voice as you tried to reason with him. “I’m sorry. I’m just,” You handed him his shirt, “I’m not exactly looking forward to you leaving.”

“I know.”

“But I know that you have to.”

“Look, Y/N, if I could stay, I would. God knows I would.”

“Please don’t say that.” You muttered. “It makes me feel guilty.”

Alex sighed and backed away. He didn’t know how to make you feel better. He didn’t know how to fix the broken love between the both of you. You both felt guilty for completely different reasons, but he followed through with his usual routine of bottling up his feelings. He knew that he was at the start of a self destructive path, but couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “You take a shower. Clear your mind.” Alexander offered. “I’ll make some breakfast.”

The rest of your time in your apartment went by in a daze. One minute you were in the shower, thinking about last night. The next, you were in the kitchen, watching Alex zip around in a little blue apron. You knew how far gone you were when he slid a plate in front of you and kissed your temple.

Soon, you were both out and about, struggling to find your way to Alex’s house. “Just let me use Google Maps, Alexander!” You groaned. “I don’t need an app to tell me how to get to my house.” He defended. He turned around in his seat as you passed a light. “I think you were supposed to turn left there.” He mumbled.


Half an hour later, you pulled the car over in front of Alex’s home. The National Park Service had taken on keeping the home in shape, and they did an amazing job. You heard Alex’s breath hitch as he looked out the window. “She hasn’t aged a day.” He muttered.

You turned to him glumly, “You ready?”

“No,” He answered, “But we don’t really have a choice, do we?”

You could do this. You could let him go and live your life without him. You did it for years before, so why was it suddenly so hard?

You both exited the car and walked up to the house. Grabbing your purse that held Alex’s tattered uniform, you followed him to the entrance. You noticed Alex’s pace slowing as he walked up the porch steps, his hand trailing over the rail. You figured it must’ve held some memories for him. When he got to the top step, he looked behind him and let out a deep breath.

This was it. The last time he’d ever see the year 2017.

This is for the best, he thought, For your country.

You both were greeted by an employee who was too cheery for your liking. “Hello, welcome to the Hamilton Grange! How can I help you?”

“Um,” Alexander put on an uncomfortably fake smile, “We’d like to tour the grounds.”

“Of course! And would you like a tour guide?” She began writing on a sheet of paper. Alex looked a bit offended as she looked up at him. This was his home; he didn’t need some middle aged woman with twenty minutes of orientation to lead him around his own house. “No thanks, we’re fine.” He snorted.

The young lady furrowed his brow at Alex and you were quick to step in, “This guy is an expert on the Hamiltons. Real virtuoso.” You laughed nervously. A timid smile appeared on the young lady’s face as she chuckled, “Ah, I see. Well, may I have your names for your passes?”

“Um, Y/N and Alex.”

“What a coinkydink!” She giggled.

Alex gave you a look that said he was absolutely done with the woman in front of him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering for him to wait two seconds. “You’ll be fine.”

“Here you go, and enjoy your visit!”

After walking away hand-in-hand, Alex turned to you. “She was unbearable.”

“I know.” You grinned. “Way too perky.”

“Annoyingly so.”

You both laughed, temporarily forgetting the task at hand. You just wanted to relish in what time you had left. So you watched as he laughed, memorizing the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. He seemed happy, and that’s how you wanted to remember him.

Alex stopped in front of a doorway that said DO NOT ENTER. “Of course it’s the one room we can’t go in.” You scoffed. Alex looked back at you and chuckled, “Since when do you care about rules?”

You squeaked Alex’s name as he pulled you inside, closing the door behind him. “Alright,” You said. “Change your clothes.” You turned to face the wall when he smirked at you. “You know, this is what happened when we first met.” He said.

A small smile formed on your lips, “I remember. Best day of my life.”

“Okay. You can turn around now.”

And just like that, you felt like you had gone back in time four months. Alex’s hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck as he stood proud in his uniform. You stepped forward and straightened his jacket, “Just remember a few things for me, okay?”


“Spend time with your kids.”

“Of course.”

“Make sure you sleep every once in awhile.”


“And- hey!” You patted his cheek lightly as he started to lose focus. He looked back at you with a sheepish tint in his eye, “I’m sorry. Just trying to remember. What was the last thing?”

“Treat Eliza right.”

“I know, Y/N.”

“I mean it, Alex. She loves you. Treat her like a queen.”

He noticed the serious look on your face and nodded. “Okay. I will, I promise.”

You took a step back and sighed. You couldn’t believe it was finally coming to an end. “So, what is this heirloom you think will get you back home?” You asked him. You started to look around for something that looked seemed special.

“It’s an old wooden wardrobe.” Alex said. “Eliza’s mother gave it to her when we got married. She always kept it-” He opened up a big closet that, low and behold, held the Hamilton’s wardrobe. “Found it.”

You walked over to him, looking over the beautiful wardrobe that had belonged to Eliza. “It’s gorgeous.”

You didn’t know he was looking at you when he replied, “Perfect.”

“Open it on three?”

“I guess so.”

“One, two, three!”

Alex yanked open the doors and couldn’t believe his eyes. There was his dimly lit guest room on the inside, waiting for him to come home. All he had to do is step through. You peered through at his late 1700s home, noticing that it looked almost identical to the room you were in then. Whatever the universe was doing was really messing with your head.

“I guess this is it.” You told him.

“I guess.”

“You know, even though I feel bad for what we did, I never once regretted it. Regretted loving you.”

“I know.” He assured you. He cupped your cheeks in his hands and leaned down, “Can I kiss you one more time?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

He pressed his lips to yours gently, much different from your first kiss. The first kiss was filled with untold feelings and bottled up lust. This kiss was the embodiment of love. If you never loved anyone else, you would be okay. This love, this kiss has enough passion and care to last you an infinite series of lifetimes.

You pulled away from him breathless, leaning your forehead against his. He pecked your lips one last time before whispering a goodbye. He stepped inside the wardrobe and turned around slowly. You faintly smiled at him as he reached for the doors of the wardrobe. “I love you.” He said.

“I love you.” You promised.

A breath and a sad glance later, the door was closed and he was gone. You hadn’t noticed you were crying until you reached up and felt tears on your cheeks. Suddenly, your chest tightened, and you couldn’t stand being in that house anymore.

You quickly found your way out of the house, ignoring the perky employee’s prying questions and entering your car. You drove all the way home, your vision blurred by more tears.

Once you arrived, you turned your car off and cried. For hours.

Alex, on the other hand, looked around his home and felt like he no longer belonged. He wanted to be with you, no matter what year you were in, but he had priorities.

Alex heard the front door open and his instinct was to call your name. He remembered where he was and switched gears quickly, “Eliza? Is that you?”

He walked into the hallway and down the stairs to see his wife, four months pregnant and trying to carry in groceries. “Eliza.”

She froze and dropped the groceries on the floor. She thought she was going crazy. Her husband’s voice calling her at all times of the day. Clearly, she was insane, right? She turned slowly and saw Alex standing in their house for the first time in four long months.

“Alexander?” She whispered. He nodded slowly as she inched toward him. “Please tell me I’m not crazy and that you’re actually here.” She pleaded.

“Eliza, I’m here, I promise. See?” He stepped forward and touched her hand. That’s all it took to have her lunge forward in an extremely tight hug. “Alexander, I thought the British had taken you, or that you didn’t want the baby-”

“Eliza, I’m here now. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“What happened?”

“I was um,” He came up with a swift lie to tell her, “I was taken by some rogue British soldiers. I gave them a false name and they eventually let me go.”

“Thank God you’re okay.” She buried her face in his neck as he rubbed her back soothingly.

Without any sign of warning, his feelings for you came pouring out of his heart as he longed for you to be in his arms. He wanted nothing but you, and you were the one thing he couldn’t have.

So he immersed himself in work.

He want back to war, fought in the winning battle, defended the Constitution, became Treasury Secretary, and worked by Washington’s side with no breaks in between.

That is, until a woman arrived on his doorstep.

She was beautiful, that Maria Reynolds. She reminded Alex of you, of that night. A full figure, kissable lips, a dangerously seductive stare. Just when he thought you were out of his mind, a reminder came knocking on his doorstep with a claim of domestic abuse.

It wasn’t that Alex didn’t believe Maria, he did. He could see the poorly hidden scars and bruises to prove it. But when he heard the voluptuous woman whisper for him to stay, he couldn’t help himself.

The one thing he couldn’t do for you, he couldn’t help doing for Maria.

Nine years had passed, and you still couldn’t shake him from your thoughts. Alex was always at the back of your mind. The first performance you did after Alex went home had left people in tears. You had a whole new take Angelica then.

But you were long past Hamilton. You were taking a break from Broadway as you were very pregnant. You’d married a great guy, Garrett, about three years prior. You both decided to try for a child, and, after a bit of struggling, you finally got pregnant.

Fourteen hours of labor and a million profanities later, you sat in a hospital bed with your beautiful baby boy. “What do you want to name him?” You asked your husband.

“You can name him.” Garrett smiled as the baby wrapped his tiny fingers around his thumb. “I’ll name the next one.”

“The next one?” You chuckled. “I’m game if you are.” Garrett laughed. You nodded, knowing that you did eventually want another little bundle of joy.

Upon thinking of names, only one name was floating in your head. “Alexander.” You whispered. “I want to name him Alexander.”

Garrett pecked your cheek, “Alexander it is. Still not over Hamilton, huh?” He joked. You let the hole in your heart be filled with your baby boy’s love as he let out a happy noise, showing his little toothless gums.

“Nope.” You said. “Still not over it.”

Edmund x Reader: A Queen from Earth

Anonymous said: So… I have a request. For an Edmund x reader. Where there’s this girl who is a really big fan of Narnia. And every single day she goes up to her parent’s spare room and walks into the wardrobe to see if it’ll take her to Narnia. One day it actually does. She meets Edmund and the other Pevensies while they’re all kings and queens. The girl and Edmund fall in love. They confess their feelings for eachother. (Maybe even kiss. :3) And one day she goes back to England with Edmund. Please do this.:3

~This fanfic is a collab with Danielle from @itsalwaysnarnia! She and I worked on this for two nights, and we stayed up until 2 AM making the finishing touches (dedication!). Please go over to her blog and send her some love, she is really such an amazing writer- and human being. We had so much fun doing this together! Expect more collab writing from us ;) ~

There it stood. Tall and lean. The age old wardrobe that was kept in the spare room-hidden behind curtains and stray books-stood before you. 

You had been up here countless times. It had become almost routine.

 Every weekend evening, when all the lights had gone out and everyone was asleep, you would venture up the stairs. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that the only reason you still climbed inside the old wardrobe was to check for spiders, although that was far from the truth. Careful to avoid the creaking step at the top of the staircase, you would walk with a flashlight in your hand and a hope of finding Narnia in your mind.

 Yes, you knew you would never actually find the magical land. Narnia was just a story; a fictional story that was never and would never become a reality.

But you still had hope

You took a small step forward, letting your socks slide across the wooden floor.

The wardrobe looked typically the same, but something felt…different. Something lured you inside and you couldn’t stop yourself.

A certain aura was emitting from the wardrobe, one incomparable to any other, and the soft tingling of bells seemed to be coming from inside. You stepped closer. The sound of bells rang louder now.

 You recognized the sound, not from anything in our world per say, but from a distant dream or memory. You dropped the flashlight. 

A sudden wind current brushed your cheeks and your breath hitched your throat. You brought your fingers forward and swallowed the lump in your throat. You felt before you saw. Something pricked your finger. You retracted your hand but still unconsciously walked forward. 

An unexpected gleam of light hit your eyes and you squinted, your feet hitting a new ground. You picked up your flashlight, moving aside a coat to see inside. 

You were in a forest. 

You were in Narnia.

There it was. Magical, impossible, unbelievable Narnia. 

You dropped your flashlight again, staring in awe at the magnificent forest. 

It couldn’t be.

As you stooped to pick it up, the door to the wardrobe slammed behind you, thrusting you forward into the autumn leaves of the Narnian woods.

 Before you had the chance to think another thought, something spliced passed your face and landed just a few inches from your head. You screamed and your body froze in fear. 

“Ed, you bloody missed!” 

You looked to your right and saw an arrow wedged into the tree next to you. 

“Well it’s a good thing I did, because I don’t think that was a deer.”

Your attention averted towards the voices in front of you. Four beings, residing on horses, made their way into the clearing. You tilted your head. “King Peter?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t from around here are you?”

A laugh escaped your lips. “I guess you could say that. Did my clothes give me away?”

“More the look on your face when we saw you.” 

The boy with dark hair, that you knew to be Edmund, smirked. “I’ve seen that expression on Peter and Susan’s face when they first entered Narnia.”

“Or maybe you almost shot me in the head.” You teased, smirking back at the handsome king. Edmund grinned. “That too.” 

Peter frowned slightly. “Where are you from anyway? Not…not Calormene or Archenland?” He eyed your star wars T-shirt.

 “I’m, uh-” You paused. What were you supposed to tell them? ‘Oh, I’m from the future. No, not the Narnian future, but the Earth future. I’ve read all the books about you four, and Edmund, I’m dying to marry you’? You couldn’t say all that.

“I’m from a…distant land. Not anywhere around here.” 

“How did you know his name, then?” Susan finally spoke up, emerging behind Peter on her horse and gesturing to him. 

“You called him ‘King Peter’. How do you know that?” 

You bit your lip, looking around at the three Pevensies. Three. Where was- 

“Su, I think I know what’s going on.” Lucy’s horse trotted along the dirt. She smiled at you, seeming to recognize something.

 “She’s from our world.” She said thoughtfully, jumping off her horse onto the ground. Peter’s eyes widened. He too dismounted his stead. “You’re from England?”

 You nodded slowly, processing what you were about to say in your mind. “I’ve read about you four. There are books, stories about your adventures.” 

Edmund and Susan looked at each other. “What-in England?”

 You nodded again, backing away slightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I-I need to get back.”


Edmund cleared his throat, blushing a little. “I mean-no, you can’t possibly leave without telling us of these…these books.” 

Lucy smirked, eyeing the two of you. You tugged at your shirt. “Um…alright.” There was silence. 

“My, where are our manners! We haven’t yet asked you of your name.” Lucy said kindly. 

 “Y/n.” You smiled back at her, turning to the others. “And I really don’t mean to be a burden on you all. I don’t expect you to-” 

“There will be a room provided for you in the castle.” Susan said assuringly, smiling for the first time. 

“Yes! And fresh clothing and sheets.” Lucy grinned, offering her arm. “Have you ever ridden on horseback?”

You frowned a little. “No.”

 Edmund smirked, remaining on his horse. “Lu, let her ride with me. I’m a better teacher for beginners.” You rolled your eyes, sensing his mockery.

 Lucy nodded. “I’ll help you mount your stead, earthling. Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that, I just kind of got into that ‘earthling’-y feeling, you know? oh, I’m sorry, I really-” 

“Lucy, it’s okay.” You said, laughing a little. You grabbed the sides of Edmund’s horse, hoisting yourself up.

 “Woah! Watch it.” 

You stared at the horse blankly. “Did it just talk?” You asked, horrified. Peter laughed, kicking the side of his horse. “You’re in Narnia. What did you expect?” 

His horse galloped off. Susan shot you a smile before quickly following after him, adjusting her quiver of arrows. 

“Well, come on then! I’ll meet you two at the castle. Ed, don’t wander off.” 

Lucy mounted her stead and went after the others. 

Edmund smirked at you. “You don’t want me to go too fast, do you?” 

You nervously gripped Edmund’s sides as you rode along with him on his horse, back to Cair Paravel. 

You supposed he was around your age, from what you had read and what you could see. And you also immediately noticed how nervous he made you. 

You barely uttered a word the whole ride. All you did was listen to the Pevensies’…um…colorful banter. 

As you rode, awkwardly clutching at Edmund, you took a look around the strange land. It all felt too whimsical, too unreal. You caught yourself barely blinking. 

Cair Paravel was no exclusion to the beauty you had seen so far. It stood so tall, so firm, so breath taking. 

As you neared the castle, guards swiftly made their way to the horses sides. One of the guards eyed you suspiciously. 

A warm laugh left Edmund’s lips. “We picked up a straggler. No need to worry yourself.” 

The guard nodded curtly and took the reins from Edmund’s hands. Edmund swung off his horse quite gracefully, but you knew you could not follow in the same manner. 

Thankfully Edmund, as the chivalrous young man he is, helped you down. His hands gripped your waist momentarily, forcing you to fight off a smile. Why did you have to fight off a smile?

Once all four siblings were off the horses, the guards guided them towards the stables. An inescapable breath left your lips as you admired Cair Paravel once more. It was exquisite. Yes, there had been pictures in the books you read, but no drawing was comparable to this. 

“You must be hungry. Dinner shall be served soon.” Peter stated, his eyes landing on you. “And I think it would be a lovely time for you to tell us how exactly you got here.”

“Well not until she is properly dressed.” Susan spoke up. She too glanced at you and smiled. “I have more than enough dresses to share.”  

You returned the smile gratefully, your cheeks feeling warm, and followed Lucy and Susan into the castle. You glanced back at Edmund. 

“See you at dinner.” He called, sending a wave. 

So much talking and laughter was exchanged at dinner; you didn’t think there was much left to say. 

Edmund, however, proved that otherwise.

After dinner ended, he insisted on showing you the gardens. Maybe a little sarcastically, but nevertheless, you followed him outside.

He had so much to say, many things to ask, and he was a perfectly good listener. He glided with such ease and he had such a strong aura about him. 

“…you wouldn’t believe it.” Edmund laughed. “Lucy honestly thought that I had broken my arm. I fooled her there. But then I ended up falling into a pond so all was even eventually.” 

“I would almost feel sorry for you, but I’m pretty sure you deserved that one.” You pointed out, your shoulder brushing Edmund’s. You tried to conceal the blush spreading quickly across your cheeks.

Edmund shook his head. “Siding with Lucy already,” He teased, “How typical.” 

You scoffed. “Well, she wasn’t the one who almost shot me in the head with an arrow.” You nudged him lightly. Edmund’s lips curled into a smile. 

“Y/N, that was an honest mistake. It’s not my fault you slightly resembled a deer.”

Your jaw dropped in mock-fury. “You little…”

Edmund smirked. “Little what? I don’t think I caught that.”
You mirrored his smirk. “Oh, I didn’t say a thing. Just remarking on your ever so accurate aim.” 

Edmund rolled his eyes indignantly. “Well it is a good thing I missed, because I am quite glad that I met you today Y/N.”

You felt a hot blush invade your cheeks, and you knew you couldn’t hide it this time. Edmund pretended he hadn’t noticed. 

You both continued walking until you had reached the beginning of the gardens again, meeting at the archway.  

“I shall bid you goodnight here. My horse Phillip insists I bring him an apple personally.” 

Edmund took a little bow. As sarcastic and mocking as he was, Ed was still a gentleman-y King of Narnia.

You curtsied a little awkwardly. “Of course, your majesty.”

Edmund chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Y/n, I almost shot you in the head. You can call me Edmund.” 

Suddenly his hand met your jaw and a warm kiss was placed on your cheek. Without another word, Edmund disappeared behind a bush in true ‘Edmund fashion’.

You brushed your hand gingerly against your cheek. With a smile too relevant in your features, you stepped back into the castle. 

                                              **YEARS PASSED**

“Come on Ed, are you going to let your darling wife beat you again?” Lucy shouted, her horse jumping over a fallen tree. 

“He’s used to it by now.” Peter bantered, his horse slowing down, allowing Edmund to catch up. 

You all caught your breath as Edmund appeared, clearly annoyed.
“Oh please, Phillip can take half the blame.” The horse glared at the young King.

“I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Everyone exchanged laughter, all but Lucy, who seemed to be distracted by something. You frowned.

“What is it Lu?” Peter questioned, following her gaze to a tall lamp post.
Lucy mumbled inaudibly.

Beyond the clearing stood something you recognized. You could barely make out what it was, but you knew you had seen it before. You could sense it.

The youngest queen licked her lips. 

“Spare Oom.” 

You let out a sharp breath, suddenly remembering something. 

Spare Room.

Tall wardrobe. 

“Wait, Lucy, where are you going?” Susan inquired urgently, getting off her horse to follow Lucy. 

Everyone quickly did the same, and you all found yourself in a line, behind Lucy. You didn’t understand what was happening, but you knew one thing: Whatever lay beyond the clearing was familiar. 

“I know this place.” Lucy said, pushing passed tree branches. You glanced at Edmund. He smiled reassuringly, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind Lucy. 

Without even noticing, the trees blended into coats, and then shoving ensued. 

“Get off!”

“I’m not on your toe.”

The wood around you was blurry and faded, and you could barely tell what was going on. All you knew was that this wasn’t suppose to happen. The hand you were still gripping tightly started to feel different, almost like it was…shrinking. Softening. 

The next thing you knew, you were sprawled on the floor, next to the rest of the Pevensies. You let go of Edmund’s hand, quite confused. You were gripping the hand of an 11 year old boy. “Oh Aslan,” You muttered under your breath, staring in shock at your husband and brother and sisters in law. All children. 

“What were you all doing in the wardrobe?” 

You looked up instantly, eyes meeting the kind face of an older man.

 Peter smiled softly. “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.” 

You let out a long breath. The man tilted his head. 

“Try me.”

You looked up to see the professor, with a twinkle in his eye, tossing you a ball. You caught it nervously, looking up at him.

 “My dear, it seems I have a lot of explaining to do.” You shared a look with Edmund. 


“You are not here by accident.” 

The professor smiled. “You’ve been granted your one wish. Now you are to remain here.” 

The four Pevensies looked at you in confusion.

 But you knew. Narnia was the wish, and this was the price. 

“I think I’ll manage.” You smiled, looking at Edmund.

“I already know how the story ends, after all.”

Originally posted by robbie-kay-is-my-bae

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

After yet another terrifying flight you and Pan were back on the main island. 

Once you were back on steady legs Pan began leading you to what you believed to be the camp, but you later realized that this was a completely different area.

‘What kind of stunt are you pulling? This isn’t the camp.’ you said after you slapped his arm.

‘Well where I might have sucked as a fiance I intend to be the perfect husband, and that means an excellent honeymoon.’ Pan smiled.

You stared at him, completely unamused with a hand on your hip.

‘What? Do you really want fifty loud and violent boys around while I’m trying to get you realize how much of a trophy husband I am?’ Pan said.

You nodded in agreement, despite your current dislike for the disney character, those boys were so loud and from the reception you could tell they were a lot to handle.

So on you marched through the forest until you came to a really cool tree house.

‘Well well well, color me impressed.’ you said.

‘Glad you like it sweetheart, all your things are up there.’ he said.

‘Thank God, because as lovely as it is this dress ain’t made for comfort.’ you said as you and your “husband” approached the tree house.

‘Hold these.’ you said handing him the heels you took off miles ago.

‘I must give it to you girls, walking around with deadly weapons on your feet.’ Pan complimented.

‘Deadly to the one wearing ‘em.’ you said as you climbed the ladder.

‘Love the view.’ Peter smiled as he watched you climb.

‘You can look but don’t touch.’ you sasses as you reach the porch of the tree house.

Pan climbed the ladder and handed you the shoes.

‘Thanks, can you unzip this dress?’ you asked turning so that he could free you from this damn dress.

‘Undressing my wife on my wedding night, how promising.’ Pan said as he unzipped the back.

‘More like disappointing.’ you said as you entered the tree house finally.

When you heard Pan behind you you turned and quickly pushed him back out and closed the door in his face before locking the door.

‘Stay out while I’m getting changed. If you magically poof in here I’ll have your nuts mounted on the wall.’ you threatened as you began removing the dress. Your clothes were in a average sized wooden wardrobe. You quickly selected your fave blue sweats, a old sports bra and oversized white -shirt. 

After finding and putting on your comfy socks you walked over to the door to let Pan in, only then realizing just how bad your feet really hurt.

‘Just as gorgeous as before.’ he smiled.

‘Bite me.’ you groaned as you let him in.

‘If you insist.’ Pan smirked.

‘Shut up.’ you said as you limped over to the bed(the only bed you noticed) that was in the middle of the room.

The tree house was spacious, enough for two people, had two windows, two wardrobes, a table set and a shelf for just random things you assumed.

As you were looking around your were rubbing your aching feet.

‘Here, let me.’ Pan said as he sat at the foot of the bed and pulled your feet into his lap.

‘What are yo- oh wow.’ you gasped as he began giving you a foot massage.

You could only lay back against the pillows and enjoy the treatment. This was the best foot massage ever.

‘That’s amazing.’ you praised.

‘Told you so.’

Bound to Vengeance

Words: 9006 (oh..my..how?)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Drama, Caretaker!Au Disability!Au 

Summary: Revenge. How far and how much are you willing to go?

Originally posted by chokaivlicious

His breath staggers in and out. He runs with numb legs, mind blank.

Finally, he comes to a screeching halt on his heels and throws open the large double doors, brown in colour and engraved with deep swirls.

The judge slams down the gavel. “Silence! Silence! Order in the court!”

Immediately everyone hushes, the lawyers taking their seats once again. “In the circumstances presented, I make the following order.” The judge’s voice ricochets off the high ceilings. Taehyung slowly stumbles forward. “Based on the evidence presented, there is an insufficient link that the defendant’s actions caused the plaintiff’s death. We cannot rule beyond a reasonable doubt and as a result…”

Taehyung’s heartbeat pounds in his ears.

He swallows hard.

“…the defendant, Miss L/N Y/N, is found not guilty.”

No. No. It can’t be.

Keep reading

Your Deepest Fears Shown - Fred Weasley Imagine

•Warning: Abusive Relationship•

It was a wednesday night you just got to the the portrait of the fat lady trying to wipe away the tears from your face and trying not to look like your in pain from the new bruise on your arm that your Slytherin boyfriend gave you. You desperately needed to break up with him but, whenever you mentioned breaking up he’ll just beat you up and he said “If you tell anyone, fred will get hurt” I couldn’t let that happen I loved fred and my boyfriend knew it to. (Y/n) went through the portrait hole to find the person she didn’t want to meet especially when she was crying. Fred Weasley turned around and when he saw you he had a worried face and went up to me and asked “(Y/n) where were you I was getting worried” (Y/n) kept her head down looking at the floor because if she made contact with fred he would probably notice that she was crying. Fred picked your chin up and noticed that you were crying “(Y/n) What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I looked into his worried gaze and said “I’m fine fred, I just went for a walk and slipped on some mud” Fred didn’t break contact with me and said “But are you sure?” I put on a weak smile and said “yes I’m sure fred, I’m just really tired Goodnight.” Fred kissed me on the forehead and whispered in my ear “Goodnight” I went up the stairs silent crying for I knew fred might find out soon and that he might get hurt. In the Morning, I got up put my scarlet and gold robes on and went down to the great hall for breakfast when, I got there it couldn’t stop noticing that fred kept watching me, he was probably trying to see why I was crying last night. After breakfast I walked down to defense against the dark arts class, sat down in the empty desk in the back then, I jumped to my surprise that a tall ginger hugged me from the back and sat down in the seat next to me. I was sure that fred was trying to cheer me up and make sure that I was happy but, I don’t think it was helping. “Hello class! My name is Professer Lupin and I will be your defense against the dark arts teacher this year now, for our first lesson today we will be going against our most deepest fears” said the professer pointing to an old wooden wardrobe.
“A boggart is a shape shifter that becomes your deepest fears but to over power it we all need to say it clearly ‘Riddikulus’ repeat after me” After saying the incantation about 5 times he said “Okay first in line is Mr.Longbottom” Nevilles boggart turned into professer snape ;Next, was Ron Weasley his turned into a huge hairy spider. While Ron was trying to do the spell I was horrified because I knew that my boggart would be my boyfriend I was scared what would other people think when it was my turn and my boyfriend appeared. “Miss.(Y/L/N) your up next and don’t forget to say the spell clearly” I nodded trying to think of some thing else that scared me but it was to late my boggart/boyfriend got out of the wardrobe smiling very wickedly “your weak, defenseless, and stupid” you’re boyfriend’s voice echoed through the room you heard a familiar growl and was sure it was from fred “You can’t say anything or he’ll hurt” you cried uncontrollably trying to say the incantation to make it stop but you just couldn’t say it “r-r-riddikulus” you screamed but it wouldn’t stop. Your boyfriend was getting closer to you then, you heard professer lupin say “Riddikulus” you tried holding in your tears but, you couldn’t. After the boggart was sent back into the wardrobe you felt warm hands help you up and take you outside of the class you cried hugging the person who helped you then you heard Fred’s voice say “It’s okay (Y/n) I’m here and I won’t let him hurt you anymore” as he kissed the top of your head. You looked up but, as you did fred passionately crashed his lips against your lips feeling warmth and happiness fill your body. You pulled back smiling then it disappeared as you saw your boyfriend coming towards you and fred; fred saw it to one hand with his wand the other hand clutching my hand. Your Slytherin boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, his face as red as lava looking to you then at fred then, said in a demanding voice “Come on (Y/n) let’s go we need to talk!” Fred went in front of me and argued back “Why would she go with you, so that you can beat her up again!” Malfoy was furious and said “Stay out of this weasle B this is between me and (Y/n)” they both shot expelliarmus spell at each other and both of they’re wands flew out of they’re hands so they both attacked each other fred on top of draco then draco on top of fred. I couldn’t stop it until professer Lupin came and stunned them both after that they were both sent to the hospital wing draco with a broken arm and nose and fred with a black eye and broken nose. I waited next to Fred’s hospital bed until he woke up the next morning he smiled at the sight of me holding his hand and waiting there for him he got up like nothing was hurting him then kissed me passionately. Then said “(Y/n) will you make me the happiest man alive and be my girlfriend” I smiled widely and said “Of course I would love to be the girlfriend of the man that saved me”
~~ Kristian💕


Pairings: T’Challa x Reader

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: Angst – but there’s lil saving fluff as well, no worries x

A/N: Oh god, I worked with this for months – ever since I saw Civil War. I don’t know if it’s even good at all, but I just felt like posting it, so here we go lol. Please, tell me what you think, I miss getting feedback lol x

// I’ve lost the source of this gif, so if it’s yours please let me know!

He leaned his head against the white tile wall, the water of the shower running along with the curves of his tensed body. Signifying his unsteady breathing, he tried his hardest to calm it down –only managing to get the knot in his chest to keep tightening.

Rapid tears kept rolling down his cheeks, blending with the tepid flow of water. He didn’t know how things had end up to the point they were at, not really. Only few months earlier he was just a young man, unaware of the life he was about to have. He knew, that he was supposed to take his father’s place as the sovereign of his country; about to come the King of Wakanda, but no one had ever told him, how it was about to happen. No one had ever told him that he would be left with all the responsibility, all of a sudden, all alone.

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“How did you get up there?” - seungri

“How did you get up there?” seungri said as soon as he stepped into your room, you were curled up on top of your huge wooden wardrobe, and you didn’t look pleased, the thing was that there was a spider in your room, you were about to catch it when it literally flew away scaring the shit out of you, so you decided to keep yourself off the ground, you thought of guarding yourself in the bed but a flying spider could easily climb fly over it, so you picked up the ladder and got yourself on top of it.

You didn’t think about the consequences, like the ladder falling and you not knowing how to get on the ground, you have been like that for almost an hour, you wanted to call seungri but you left your phone on the nightstand so all you could do was wait.

“there was a flying spider, I wanted to get as far from the floor as I could so I climbed here, but then the ladder fell and the spider flew away and I have been trapped here for an hour because i couldn’t call you” you answered while trying to accommodate your back in a more comfortable position groaning in pain when you hit your head against the ceiling.

At first seungri looked at you like you were an alien but then he started to laugh uncontrollably making you roll your eyes “yah oppa is not funny” he was about to answer when he started to laugh again, he shook his head “god I love you” you rolled your eyes “yeah yeah I love you too now can you pick up the ladder so I can get out of here?” he nodded and pulled the ladder back in its place, helping you get off the wardrobe.

As soon as you landed you hissed in pain, your knees have been bent for a while and you oculd not feel your back from the uncomfortable position you where in, seungri just smirked and shook his head “oh my silly girl what am I going to do with you?” he hugged you and you pushed him away “yah it was a really big spider I could have died” he laughed.

“sure love, now lets go have some food”


this was fun to write lol thanks to @craftywhispersinternet for the idea :D

it’s the hottest day of the year and what do i spend it doing? a deep clean of my room including dragging my heavy ass wooden day bed, wardrobe, desk and shelf unit around. because i was watching amy’s vlog and i too wanted to live a clean and artsy lifestyle


Mud. Sweat. Tears. Screaming. Laughter.
It had all happened so quickly. One minute, Glenn was there, the next, he was smashed apart in a brutal manner.
“Come on, sweetheart.” the man who killed Glenn grinned at you; he was tall, black slicked back hair, dark oak eyes that were like mazes, a salt and pepper beard that had blood spattered on it, a devilish smile, a beaten up leather jacket, a dark red scarf wrapped around his neck.
“Never” you spat defiantly, digging your heels in the ground as the man lay a solid baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around it on the floor. He gently picked you up and tossed you into his truck, tying you down with the seatbelt.
“What do you want with her?!” Rick gasped, his eyes filled with tears, his breaths shook from what he had witnessed, all hope in Rick had clearly evaporated.
“Like I said, half your shit.” the man shrugged, he picked up his baseball bat and jokingly swung it Rick’s way.
“Remember Lucille, Rick” the man laughed and hauled himself into his truck beside you.
You and the man drove in complete silence to what  he had affectionately referred to as ‘the sanctuary’. It was anything but a sanctuary for you.
“Where the fuck are we?” you spat, the man laughed and rolled his eyes.
“Darlin’, just fucking stop, before you get yourself fucking hurt.” he shrugged, pulling you out of the truck with him and pushing you into a room. It was cozy; red painted walls, a large wooden wardrobe, a light oak desk, a 3-seater sofa, a large purple mattress on the floor, a red carpet, a black leather office chair, painted yellow ceiling, a light with a fan, black curtains covering the large bay windows, there were even a few poster rolls marked “for [Y/N]”. It was almost as if he had planned to take you.
“What the fuck is this shit?” you asked, the man laughed and untied you.
“Your brand-spanking-fucking new home” he laughed and closed the white wooden door behind him. You froze for a moment when he locked the door.
“Who the fuck are you?” you asked, although you were sure he had introduced himself before he brutally murdered your friend, however due to your shock and grief, you had forgotten.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” the man sighed to himself and smirked.
“I’m Negan. And this,” he swung his baseball bat in one hand with a horrid ease.
“Is Lucille” he swung the baseball bat cockily and rested it against the arm of the sofa.
“Okay, Negan, why the fuck am I here?” Negan found you to be a breath of fresh air, although he hadn’t known you for that long, he could tell you were going to challenge him and give him a hard time, he liked that, he liked to climb mountains.
“Remember you killed those women?” he chuckled, sitting down on the sofa, his arms folded against his chest, his legs spread apart slightly, he oozed confidence.
“On orders.” you protested, sitting on the mattress with your knees by your chest and your arms crossed around them.
“Doesn’t matter, darlin’. They were my wives, and you fucking slaughtered them, so you belong to me, as fucking payment.” Negan tilted his head at you and winked, you were disgusted with him.
“I’m not fucking you. You’re a vile, twisted, asshole!” you raised your voice slightly, which only made Negan laugh.
“Never said you had to fuck me sweetheart. All I fucking said was that your ass is mine. But, if you do wanna fuck…” Negan stood up and towered over you before placing his hands on both sides of the mattress, with his arms as a barrier and his body as a wall, you couldn’t move. You licked your lips, he was attractive, but you couldn’t just bed the man who killed your friend.
“Fuck off” you scoffed, Negan nodded respectfully and sat next to you.
“I’m fucking sorry about your friend, but it’s just business.” Negan whispered, you shot him a look and shook your head.
“Yeah well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you took me away from my friends, and not to mention you fucking killed one of them.” you growled.

The Boys Will Take Care of You

Anonymous said: Request: where the reader is dating Dean, she’s been hunting with them for a while as well and they see her has this bad ass, like them. Anyway so they go on a hunt and the reader gets hurt, breaks a leg really badly, or something like that and something bad enough where Sam and Dean have to take her to the hospital. She’s terrified of hospitals, like petrified of them. Like panic attack scared. So Dean and Sam comfort her while she’s there and then take her home and take care of her after?

A/N: Hey guys, it’s Karla. I’m the new co-writer ^-^ Hopefully you’ll enjoying reading my stories as much as i love writing them. If anyone’s interested, i have my own blog where you can message me directly, dreamworldbridge . You can contact me for any reason, I’ll listen to anything you have to say.

Word count: 2,318

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: None


“Okay, here’s the plan. The house is too big so we’ll need to split up. I’ll check the basement. Dean, you’ll check the main floor and Y/N, you’ll check the top floor. If you find the bones, burn them as fast as possible. And if you find the ghost, shoot and don’t miss. Okay?” Sam asked, looking at Dean and you for approval.

You, Sam and Dean were standing in front of the abandoned house where the ghost of the old owner was. The ghost had killed at least 8 people and the number of victims had risen in the past 2 weeks. You would’ve thought people would stop breaking into an abandoned building where people disappeared and were killed, but no. There were still geniuses who thought the whole thing was a game and that they would be the one to survive. Seriously? There are at least a hundred of horror movies that tell you why you should not do that.

“Yeah, let’s do this thing,“ you said, cocking your shotgun. Dean smiled at your enthusiasm, patting his pants’ pocket to check if he had lighter fluid and some matches to burn the bones.

The three of you turned to the main door, waiting a beat before Dean raised his leg and knocked the door down.


You could hear Dean moving downstairs as you pushed open the door of an old bedroom. There was nothing in the room but a rusty bed frame, a giant wooden wardrobe and a crooked bedside table. You started walking toward the joined bathroom when you felt the dramatic temperature drop. Tightening your grip on the shotgun, you turned around to see the owner’s ghost staring at you with hatred burning in his dead eyes. As you raised your shotgun, ready to shoot, the ghost moved with incredible speed and smacked you across the face, the impact throwing you into the near-by wall. Your vision blurred as your head bounced off of the floor, the room spinning like a carnival carousel.

“Dean!” you yelled, scrambling to get up and get your shotgun. That’s when a sickening crack sounded in the room and you felt an excruciating pain. You let out a blood-curdling scream, the sight of a wardrobe crushing your leg filling your vision. 

A shot was heard and the ghost disappeared, temporary relief filling you as you saw Dean standing in the doorway with a frantic look in his eyes. Your eyes widened as you saw the ghost appear behind him, but before you had the time to tell him to watch out, the ghost screamed and was engulfed in flames. Dean rushed to your side, not paying attention to the ghost, and checked the damage on your leg. He went to poke your leg but you grabbed his sleeve tightly, not letting him get any closer to your injury.

 “Dean, it hurts. It hurts really, really bad,” you sobbed, your body heating up from the pain you were enduring.

“It’s okay, calm down baby, we’ll help you,“ he comforted you, before turning to the door and screaming for Sam. Seconds later Sam rushed into the room, quickly taking in the sight of a tear-faced you and a giant wardrobe crushing your leg.

 “Dean, we gotta move the wardrobe and get her out,” Sam said, approaching you. Dean nodded at him and turned to you.

“Baby?” you raised your head at the sound of his voice. “I know you are in a lot of pain, but Sammy and I gotta get you from under the closet, okay?”

“Okay,“ you whimpered. No doubt you would feel terrible pain, and just the thought of it was enough to make you start sobbing again.


Dean reluctantly let go of your hand and went to grab the opposite side of the wardrobe Sam was already holding.

“Okay, we’ll do this on three. You ready Y/N?” Sam asked, throwing a look in your direction.

“Just do it, please. Just help me,” you said through your tears, bracing yourself.

“All right, Sammy. Let’s go. One. Two. Three!” And they moved the wardrobe away. Your scream pierced through the air, your hands clutching into fists. You turned to look at your leg and had to look away right away because the sight was too gruesome. Your leg was bloody and bruised, laying there in an unnatural angle. Dean let go of the wardrobe right away and came rushing back to your side, while Sam visibly winced at the injury.

“Baby, we gotta get you to the hospital. I’m gonna have to lift you up in my arms, you just hold on tight, okay?” Dean said, looking into your eyes. You were breathing too hard to answer him so you just nodded.

Dean pulled the Impala’s keys out of his pocket and threw them at Sam who caught them.

“Go start the car Sam, we gotta get to the hospital as soon as possible. She’s lost too much blood and she’s in a lot of pain,“ he told him. Sam ran out of the room right away, and Dean turned back to you.

“You can do this baby. It’ll hurt, but I promise I’ll be as gentle as possible.” He gently put you in a bride style hold and stood up, wincing at your sobbing.

He carried you back to the Impala and slid in the backseat with you. Sam stepped on the pedal right away and informed you would be at the hospital in ten minutes.


As Sam was driving, the fact that you were going to the hospital dawned on you. Ever since you were a little girl, hospitals terrified you. There was something menacing in the smell of disinfectant and rubber gloves that seemed to spread around no matter what. Dean knew your fears, and whispered comforting words. That did little as you started full-on panicking, your breathing growing heavy and your hands shaking.

“Dean, don’t make me go. Please don’t make me go, I’m scared,” you pleaded.

“I’m sorry, but you have to go. There is no way we can fix this kind of an injury at the bunker and Cas is, with his fading grace, out of the question,“ Dean said helplessly.


When you got to the hospital Dean rushed out of the Impala with you in his arms, not looking back to see if Sam was following. He ran to the counter and yelled for the nurse, who came out instantly.

“My girlfriend had an accident and broke her leg. She needs a doctor right now!” Dean yelled, the words rushing out of his mouth. The nurse threw a look in your direction, her expression changing from annoyed to worried as she saw your injury. She called the doctors and other nurses from the ER who put you on a stretcher, rolling you away from Dean. As he tried following you, the nurse told him to stay in the waiting room, as you needed an emergency surgery. The guilt started to chew at him; he knew you must have been terrified, alone and surrounded by doctors. During that time, another nurse finally calmed you down enough for her to stick a needle in your arm and sedate you, telling you how you would be "A-Okay” when you woke up.


 There was annoying beeping coming from your left. Your eyes slowly opened, the whiteness around you making you wince as your surroundings came into focus. You saw yourself covered with a light white sheet and a needle sticking out of your left arm. You tried moving your previously injured leg only to notice it was bandaged and slightly numb. There was a soft sound of someone breathing next to you, and you finally noticed Dean. He was asleep with his head laying on your bedside, your hand clutched in his warm hands. Your heart swelled and you reached with your other hand to brush his hair lightly. This seemed to wake him up, as he stirred and sleepily looked around. When finally his eyes met yours and he noticed you were awake, he jumped to his feet and engulfed you in a hug.

“Thank God you are awake, baby. I was so worried,“ Dean said, kissing your hair. You gently wrapped a hand around his torso, breathing in the smell of his leather jacket and cheap motel soap.

“I’m okay. You don’t have to worry.” You pulled away. “Thank you, Dean. You saved me,“ you said, looking in to his eyes.

“Don’t thank me, you would’ve done the same. Besides, I couldn’t let my girlfriend get killed now, could I?” he joked, his lips stretching in a small smile.

“No, you couldn’t,” you joked back, kissing the corner of his mouth. “By the way, where’s Sam?”

“He’s grabbing himself some coffee. I’m sure he’ll be back any minute now.”

“Okay. When can I go home?” you asked, tired of being in a hospital, surrounded by whiteness.

“I don’t know, I’ll go ask the doctor. You just sit here and relax, okay?” He kissed your forehead before leaving the room.


A few minutes after Dean left, Sam came into the room carrying a steaming paper cup, the smell of coffee reaching you immediately.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, rushing to your side and hugging you. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You scared the hell out of us.”

“I’m okay, Sammy. You don’t have to worry,“ you said, returning the hug and reveling in his warmth. In that moment the door opened and the doctor strolled in, Dean right on his heels. Sam and you separated and you faced the doctor.

“Hello, Miss Jones, I’m doctor Shepard. I’m the one who did your surgery. Mr. Plant here tells me you’re feeling much better and would like to go home, am I correct?” he asked. You nodded, your eyes meeting Dean’s at the choice of your fake names.

“Well, it will take some time for you to fully recover,” Doctor Shepard continued, “but there is no need to keep you in here. Your recovery will take from 1 to 4 months, and during that time you can’t do any physical activities and have to rest. Understood?” he asked. You nodded once again, slightly bummed about the fact the recovery would take such a long time.

“If you don’t have any questions, I will go ahead and get your release papers and you can be on your way,“ he said, throwing you a small smile and leaving the room.

“I’ll go sign the papers while Dean helps you get your stuff,” Sam said, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Dean came to your side, helped you change into your clothes and got you your crutches.

“Don’t worry babe, it’s not as bad as it seems. Sammy and I will take care of you,“ he smiled and kissed your cheek.


 When you got back to the bunker, the boys set you up in the living room, where you had easy access to the TV. Dean got you blankets and pillows from your bedroom, making sure you were as comfy as possible. Sam went to the kitchen to make you something to eat, and the thought of home-cooked meal made your mouth water. Your crutches were leaning on the edge of the couch, though there was no doubt Dean would carry you everywhere. He had been very attentive, making sure you weren’t hungry or in pain.

“Dean, I’m okay. Seriously, stop worrying so much,” you smiled after he fluffed your pillow for what it seemed like the hundredth time.

“You sure?” he asked, still holding the pillow.

“Yeah. Just… sit down. Relax. We just came home from a relatively successful hunt and all of us deserve some rest.” You gazed up at him, a soft look on your face.

He sighed, some tension leaving his shoulders, and sat down next to you. He took a hold of your hand and stroked it with his thumb for a few moments before speaking up.

“You really worried me there, Y/N,“ he said softly. “For a moment I thought I was going to lose you. I was terrified,” Dean confessed. “Just seeing you laying there, the ghost standing above you…” He shuddered at the memory.

“Oh Dean… I’m sorry that I scared you. But I can assure you I’m okay. And that’s mostly because you saved me. Stop thinking this is your fault.” He went to say something but you stopped him. “And don’t deny it. I can see that this is eating at you. But I really am okay, thanks to you. So, once again, thank you Dean. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You reached up and kissed him, pulling him closer. He weaved one of his hands into your hair and put all emotions into the kiss. You kissed until an awkward cough interrupted. You separated quickly and saw Sam standing at the doorway, a bowl of ramen noodles in one hand and a bag of chips in the other.

“Do you guys need me to give you some privacy?” he asked, slowly approaching you.

“Well, now that you mention it…” Dean started, but you hit him lightly with your hand and giggled.

“No, Sammy. It’s okay. Just ignore your brother,“ you joked and Dean threw a playful glare in your direction.

You took the bowl of ramen from Sam’s hand and thanked him. Dean sat you up and made sure you were comfortable before turning to the TV, where the latest episode of ‘Dr. Sexy’ was playing. Sam sat in the armchair a little further from the couch you and Dean were snuggling on, and opened his bag of chips. The three of you spent the rest of the day just relaxing and watching the TV, enjoying each others’ company. You sure were lucky you had such amazing people taking care of you.

Sole Mates

super lovely kickass human @worthatryright asked for a destiel fic with the prompt of ‘memories’. here we go, kiddo. a high school AU with some serious fluff ^^

They’d always done it, ever since they were very small.

Cas couldn’t remember when it had started. His first memory was already bathed in reassuring familiarity, just the brush of its sepia warmth across his mind enough to make him smile; in it, they were seven and a half, sitting in the hallway at Dean’s house, waiting for Cas’ mother to come and pick him up. On opposite sides of the narrow room, backs against the walls, they’d pressed the soles of their bare feet together. The dust from playing in the yard earlier had been in between their small toes.

“What’s your deepest darkest secret?” Cas had asked, watching Dean, whose face had been illuminated by the trickling light through the panels of glass in the front door. He’d had a swish of blue paint on his cheek.

“You know all my secrets,” Dean had replied easily. He’d wiggled his toes and Cas had felt it, and wiggled his own back.

“Something you didn’t tell me yet,” Cas had insisted. He could remember the press in his little chest, the need he’d had to know Dean inside out, for there to be no surprises left. To have everything be known, and familiar, and safe.

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The Clan (Minhyuk Fanfiction)

Genre: Dystopian AU, romance, adventure

Summary: A dystopian AU based off of All In. It follows certain events from the music video in addition to a minhyuk love story so we can all pretend we’re part of the story when we’re actually not cries

Ch.1/Ch.2/Ch.3/Ch.4/Ch.5/Ch.6/Ch.7/Ch.8/Ch.9/Ch.10/Ch.11/Ch.12/Ch.13/Ch.14EpilogueSpecial Chapter!

Chapter Five

     “They’re here.” Minhyuk whispered.

     “What?” Hyungwon asked, mouth gaping in shock. “How’d they know we’re here?”

     “Well some of us weren’t being so quiet.” You muttered, looking over at Minhyuk from the edge of your eyes.

     “Oh shut up, you were just as loud as I am.” Minhyuk retorted, rolling his eyes playfully and shaking his head. There was no anger or harsh feelings between the two of you, yet you both seemed to enjoy teasing each other.

     “Guys, we’re minutes away from getting caught by the Peacemakers, stop joking around and think of a plan.” Hyungwon scolded quietly, pulling the white ski mask back over his bloody and beaten face.

     You furrowed your eyebrows, raking your mind for any idea. How were you going to get out of this situation? There was no way you could make a run for it with Hyungwon in his current state. His eyes were so swollen, he could barely see where he’s going. Looking around the room, you studied every object in sight as the Peacemakers’s voices grew closer and closer.

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How the Game is Played |Victor Zsasz x You|

100 Kinks Challenge - 12/Sex Game

You sat cross-legged on Victor’s couch, twirling one of your knives skillfully between two fingers before noticing a smudge on the shiny, silver service. You stopped her twirling and begin to polish the blade on your shirt, that’s when the front door finally opened. The black suit he wore contrast against this pale skin, and its eyes did as well. They were two brown irises so dark they could have very well been black. And they were always so damn unreadable too.

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