#a child n I can’t do certain things’

[godmadeaterribleerror]

It's Been Calling Me

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, light angst, shameless smut (oral f receiving, p in v sex), fluff, soulmates, dreams, told over many years, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: You've had these… dreams. Strange, realistic, detailed dreams of the same man, almost your whole life. But they're just dreams. You've been so sure, for so long, that they're just dreams.

So sure, until you're not.

Author's Note: I love this one. I love using fake Marvel science logic. I love putting sad men in situations where they can't escape love. I love semi-linear storytelling. Enjoy!

Word Count: 10.9k

“I get… dreams.” You mumble, staring at an odd point over Dr. Raynor’s head. It’s always better than looking her in the eyes. “They’re weird.”

“The very nature of dreams is to be strange.” You can see the shrug of Raynor’s shoulders, hear the neural expression that must be on her face. “Although if you feel they’re worthy of note-“

“They are.” 

Raynor hums. She’s probably raising her brows. You still won’t look.

“You sound quite certain of that.”

“I am.” You tuck your knees up to your chest, frowning at the air. “It’s- They’re not new.”

“Ah.” Raynor pauses, then says your name. In the gentle but firm therapist way that you really hate. It makes you feel like a child. “This conversation may be easier if you would look at me.”

“No thanks, I’m-“

She says your name again. A little harsher. “We’ve discussed this. You’re here of your own volition-“

“That’s not true.” You mutter. “Court-ordered isn’t volition.”

“Well you could’ve chosen the inpatient ward.” Raynor’s shrugging again. “Look at me.”

You let out a long breath, and meet her gaze. You’d been right. She was raising her brows.

“Good work.” She gives you a tight-lipped smile and small nod of approval. “Tell me about these dreams.”

It takes a minute to find the words. Not because you don’t have them, but because you’d never expected to use them. You’ve rehearsed them in the mirror a million times, but they always sounded insane, and you didn’t need another reason to be called crazy.

“I’ve had them my whole life.” It’s easiest to start there. “But it’s- they’ve changed. Over time.”

“Changed how?”

“It’s hard to explain-“

“Try.”

You scowl. “I am trying, Christina, but there’s kind of a lot to say-“

Raynor sighs, giving you the patented look of disapproval that you might hate more than how she says your name. “How about telling me when they started. Is that do-able?”

It takes a long, deep breath, but you nod. “I was- I think I was ten. I fell asleep, and it was the first dream I’d ever had. The first one that I remembered when I woke up. It was…” You swallow, and there’s a sting in your nails as you rip more skin away. “Really vivid.”

——

This isn’t your body. It’s too big, too tall, and you’re not nearly strong enough to rip a door off its hinges. This body is sprinting across ice without ever breaking pace or falling flat with a crunch. You can’t even walk up stairs without tripping over thin air.

But this doesn’t really feel like a body at all. It feels like a shell, or tool. Hollow and pressed down, moving so mechanically you’d think it was a machine if you couldn’t hear its heartbeat in your ears. There’s a lot of pain in it. Strangely numb pain, as if the owner of this body doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it, shuttering it off to the side as he moves.

You’re pretty sure it's a he. There’s hair in your eyes, but men can have long hair, and when the body’s arms swing into view they’re big and muscular. You’re also pretty sure there’s something between your legs that wasn’t there when you went to sleep.

And you can feel him. Very, very deep in your head, he’s bellowing and scraping at his own scalp. He feels like a caged animal, but this is his body. He’s roaring things that are more like feral sounds than actual words, and every time he gets loud enough for you to make out a real voice something clamps down on your skull—his skull—and it all goes quiet.

You can see another man in your line of vision. He’s on his knees, trembling and begging, but the noise is muffled and static. As if there’s a filter pushing anything coherent out of your head.

A gloved fist that’s attached to your body—but not yours to control—reaches out and grabs the man by his throat. It squeezes. 

He’s desperate. Locked down and furious, the ‘he’ who you’re possessing is almost pleading with himself to stop. 

But he doesn’t. 

And there’s a sickening snap that will echo in your ears for a long time after you wake up.

——

Raynor’s looking at you like you’re insane. You don’t love it.

“Did you…” She pauses, scanning over you with a small frown. “Did you see the hand?”

You blink at her. “Yeah, I just said-“

“Without the glove.” She clarifies. “The one that snapped the man’s neck. Did you ever see it without the glove.”

It’s an oddly specific question. And she seems to be looking for a certain answer, because in all your time of working with Raynor she’s never looked so obviously invested in a story. 

“Not for a while.” You keep your words slow, watching her wearily. “He always wore the gloves. And when he didn’t, he wouldn’t look at his hands-“

Raynor frowns. “So how did you know he wasn’t wearing the gloves?” 

“Because he knew.” You shrug. “I lived in his brain like, every night.”

“Every-“

“Night, yeah. That’s what I fucking said.”

Raynor hums, and you think she’s going to grab the notebook to write something along the lines of patient has lost her goddamn mind, but she just keeps staring at you. “You said you didn’t see the hand for a while. When did you see it?”

“When I was sixteen. The first time the dreams changed.”

“Changed from-“

“Being in his head.” You pull your lip between your teeth, weighing how much you want to reveal. Too much feels like a violation of his privacy, even if they’re your dreams. He’s a private guy, it took you years to get him to tell you anything, and if you’ve realized turns out to be the truth, you don’t want to ruin anything. “It’s- it was about six years of seeing everything through his eyes-“

“Everything?”

You wish Raynor would stop saying the word every like that. Like it’s a lie.

“All the murders.” You mutter. “There were a lot of murders.”

Raynor nods for you to continue, and you have to take a long, steadying breath.

“One night I went to sleep and he was… attacking some blond guy. We couldn’t really see his face. Then I fell asleep the next night, and it was different.”

——

You can see him. You’ve never seen him before. 

He’d never looked in a mirror, or described himself in his head for you like he’s a Wattpad character. He’s only ever been a body that moves out of your will, and a pained voice deep in your brain that didn’t seemed thrilled with what was happening either. 

But you’re not in his head, or his body. You’re standing in a bathroom—in your own body, wearing the same clothing you’d been wearing when you’d crawled into bed—and looking at him. 

He’s a lot more attractive than you’d anticipated. And you’d anticipated attractive. You’d built an image in your head of your imaginary dream assassin, basing it purely on a level of hotness that would justify all the murders he’d been up to. It had been a little fucked up, but you’d also been so goddamn sure he wasn’t real. That this was just a really odd and worrying coping mechanism for all the messed up shit in your real life. 

But he seems pretty fucking real right now. And almost impossibly handsome. Strong features that look like they’d been carved from marble, an almost hulking frame that’s somehow bigger when you’re looking at it from outside, and tangled, greasy hair that’s really working with the whole tortured expression on his face.

Because he does not look okay.

He’s gripping the sink and glowering at himself, scanning over his own face like he recognizes it less than you do. He’s bent like there’s a weight on his shoulders he doesn’t know how to shake off, and that’s impressive, because you’ve seen him pick up a car. 

The porcelain of the sink cracks, and he flinches back, looking between his hands and the rubble with wide eyes.

His eyes are blue. A really pretty blue. You’d always thought blue eyes were overrated—big whoop, you’re more sensitive to light—but there’s something silver in this man’s eyes that you really love. It feels like a deep storm you’d like to chase.

He’s really pretty. 

He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would like being called pretty, but he is. In a natural and powerful way. Like something heavenly that’s burned through the atmosphere in a dreadful fall.

Pretty face, pretty eyes, pretty hands-

Metal hand. 

One metal hand.

——

Raynor looks worried now. You wish she’d go back to thinking you’re just batshit crazy. 

“Do you-” she clears her throat, sitting a little taller in her chair. “His name. Did you ever learn his name?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Does that matter?”

“Yes.”

It’s a flat, tense answer. It makes something coil in your throat. 

“I-“ You rub your own calves, soothing yourself in the careful way you’ve always practiced. “I didn’t, for a while-“

Raynor says your name, her tone short and clipped. “Stop telling me something didn’t happen for a while. If I ask a question, it’s because I need to know the answer. Not the buildup.”

You frown. “Need to know?”

“It’s…” Raynor sighs. “It is very important that you give me a name.”

“Why?”

“Therapist reasons.”

You give her a flat look. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Yes, it is. Name.”

“If you need the name,” you say, raising your chin slightly. “You have to sit through my for a while.”

Raynor gives you a look of disbelief, shaking her head and muttering something that sounds like God, I can’t take two of them, before raising her voice. “Fine. What was for a while.”

“I couldn’t talk to him.” You explain. “For like, two years after I got out of his brain, he still couldn’t see me. When I tried to talk to him it was like I was in a- sort of a one-way mirror? And it’s not like he was just walking around telling the air I’m Bucky-“

“Bucky?” Raynor looks downright distressed. “His name was-“

“It’s Bucky.” 

He still is. He’s not a was, Bucky is.

That’s part of the problem.

“And how-“ Raynor swallows. “How did you learn this?”

“He told me.”

——

This is new. You’re not on a street or in a half-empty apartment—the two places you’ve grown most accustomed to seeing in your sleep—but in a field. A very big field with huts and brush and goats.

There are a truly staggering amount of goats.

And there he is. His hair isn’t greasy and unkempt anymore, but looks almost soft, pulled back in a half-up half-down situation that makes him look clean. His metal arm is gone, but he doesn’t seem that bothered by it. He’s standing taller than before, like the weight you’ve grown used to seeing finally has begun to lift.

His outfit is new too. It looks like something traditional and well-made, rather than the off-brand baseball hats—you too are a big fan of the American baseball team, the ‘Doggers’—and shitty polyester t-shirts.

You’re taking him and scenery in, trying to place where your brain could’ve possibly taken you this time, when he does something you’d never expected.

He turns and looks at you.

Not through you. Not around you. Not in your general direction.

At you.

He can fucking see you.

“Hello?”

You’ve heard him speak before, a few times. His voice has always been low and gruff and heavy.

It’s smooth and richer now. You don’t know if that’s because it’s directed at you—setting off small sparks over your ribs—or in relation to that vanished weight, but you like it. It suits him better.

“Hi.” You whisper, your body frozen in place as he moves forward.

He’s right in front of you. Staring at you. 

He’s always gotten prettier every time you’ve seen him. This is different.

This is knocking the air out of your lungs with just the sight of him, because there’s a light in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and it makes something deep inside of you glow.

“I’m, uh, I’m Bucky.” 

He holds out his hand, and you tilt your head at him.

“That’s a weird name.”

He blinks at you, his hand still frozen in the air. “I guess, yeah. Never thought about it. It’s just a nickname.”

“Oh.” That makes more sense. “Sorry. That’s- I just never thought you as- never mind.” 

Bucky frowns at you, opening his mouth—likely ask you what you mean by that—but you say your name and shake his hand because he gets the chance.

He has a nice hand. It warm, and calloused, and fits really well in yours. 

“Why can you see me?” You blurt, and there goes any pretense of containing the truth. 

Bucky frowns at you. “Should I… Not be able to see you?”

“You’ve never seen me before.”

“Before? What do you mean-“

“It’s- It’s weird. And complicated.”

He just stares at you, waiting for you to continue. 

You’re holding his gaze. You’ve never held anyone’s gaze before. 

It’s kind of electrifying.

“I’ve dreamt about you before.” You mumble. “And you’ve never seen me.”

“About me?”

He doesn’t sound like he believes you. You get that. It’s not really a reasonable or believable statement.

“Yeah. But you had two arms. And there weren’t goats.”

Bucky nods slowly, and seems to reach a conclusion in his brain that you don’t get to be privy to. 

It’s enough for him though. Because he gives you a small, almost nervous and apologetic smile. 

“Do you wanna, uh, do you wanna meet the goats?”

You blink at him. You’d expected more questions, or some doubt. But he’s just looking at you, something in his pretty blue eyes almost hopeful.

“Are they...” You trail off, glancing at the goats over his shoulder. “Your goats?”

“They’re community goats.” He shrugs. “But Shuri says connection with life will help my recovery, and I don’t really want to connect with people.” His voice lowers, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “They don’t really like connecting with me.”

You don’t know who the fuck Shuri is, but you nod anyway. “So goats?”

He gives you another odd look, like he’d expected you to say something else. 

“Yeah. Goats.” 

“Did you name them?”

He frowns. “They’re goats. They don’t need names.”

You click your tongue, shaking your head. “Wrong. Everything needs a name. I named my car, and my phone.”

“You named your phone?”

“Yep.” You grin at him, and it’s a wide, teasing grin you haven’t given anyone in years. “Bertha.”

“That’s…” Bucky’s still staring at you–he seems to do that a lot—but there’s something like amusement in his eyes. “Bertha is not a good name.”

“Better than Bucky.”

He chuckles at that, and it’s a beautiful sound. Deep and heavy, like a bass drum in your chest.

It’s the sort of thing that could be addicting, if you’re not careful. Worse, it’s the sort of thing you wouldn’t mind being addicted to.

“You’re kinda mean, doll.”

“Yep.” You shrug, ignoring how ‘doll’ makes you feel fuzzy in your gut. “And I’ll be meaner if you don’t let me name your goats.”

He hums, scanning you over with an intensity in his eyes that reminds you of that storm you’d see all those years ago in the bathroom. This time, you’d like to do a little more than chase it.

You think it could be really easy to get wrecked by it. 

“Will you come back if I let you name them?”

He keeps saying things you don’t expect. Of course you’ll come back. You don’t have a choice.

But you nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Only if you promise to actually use the names.”

He nods, giving you another smile. “Deal.”

———

“Did you ever learn his last name?”

You shake your head. “I never asked. He mentioned his real name was James at one point, but then I asked why he was called ‘Bucky’ and we got off topic.”

“One… point?” Raynor’s words are slow, and you’ve really never seen her looked lost like this before. You’d be proud of yourself if it wasn’t a bad sign. “Exactly how frequently did these dreams occur?”

———

“You’re back!”

Bucky looks genuinely happy to see you. He does every night. The same surprised joy in his voice, shock always written over his face like it’s truly odd and lovely to see you here.

Like you’re not here every night, for three to four hours, standing in his little hut and wandering the fields.

You’ve worked out that you’ve put him in Africa. Wakanda specifically, likely because you’d seen it all over the news and it seemed pretty interesting. Shuri was the princess, and the guy T’challa Bucky had mentioned a few times was the King. You’d almost certainly heard their names during all those UN conferences—the ones you put on in the background just to hear some noise that wasn’t ringing in your ears—and your brain had just decided to run with it.

At least, you think it’s just your brain. You’ve always assumed this was all in your brain, because this feels like the exact kind of fucked up shit your brain would pull. And Bucky never aged. He’d never really changed, for six years. He’d had just been another way to cope for the longest time, but now—as you actually get to know him—he seems dangerously like a real person.

He looks like he broods less than when you see him hunched over a toilet or glowering at his reflection in a window. His appearance has started to shift in a way it never really had.

The metal arm has permanently departed. He seems fond of keeping his hair out of eyes, and his wardrobe finally has diversity. He talks to you, and he has a personality. An adorable, grumpy, endearing personality that would play into your idea of ‘made up in your brain’ if he couldn’t be so annoying.

He stares. He grunts a lot. He doesn’t get any of your references. If you made up an imaginary dream man to feel more loved, he would like all the things you like and hate all the things you hate.

But he doesn’t.

And it always draws you in further, because he truly does seem like just a perfectly insufferable asshole. 

That’s cruel. He’d been right. You could be mean. 

He never seemed to mind.

And he’s more like a dog anyway. One that escaped the pound and follows you around, not even bothering to beg for scraps because you offer them with a grin.

You like his company. You like his voice. You like that he’s annoying and you like more that it’s your exact type of annoying.

You like that he’s really fucking hot, and get hotter every time you visit. 

You mostly just like him.

“Of course I’m back.” You shrug, kicking a rock with the tip of your foot, watching it bounce through the dirt. “I’m always back.”

“Yeah. So far.” You see Bucky shrug in your periphery, and when you look up, he’s staring again. “Could change.”

“Won’t change.” You counter, giving him a pointed look. “Sorry, Buck. You’re stuck here until I die.”

That’s the first time you’ve called him Buck. He tenses for a moment, seems to shake something physically off his body, and nods slowly.

“Should I be worried about you dying?”

“Not right now, no.” You hum. Another rock gets kicked. “Death doesn’t agree with me.”

He chuckles. “Don’t think it agrees with anyone, doll-“

“Shut up.” Third rock. This one hits a goat, and you cringe slightly. “Shit. Sorry, Bubble McBubbleface-“

“Bubs will be.” Bucky rolls his eyes, moving to your side. He’s standing really close. You can almost feel a phantom heat from his body. “And I still can’t believe you talked me into that name. I had to tell the king of the damn country that his goat was named Bubble McBubbleface.”

You giggle, and Bucky shoots you a glare.

“You think that’s funny? I had to like pretend it was my idea,” he grumbles your name, and you always like how he says it. Like it’s some sort of answer. “I had to look the council of elders in the eyes and tell them that Bubble McBubbleface got Lady Gaga pregnant-“

Your eyes widen. “You let the goats get pregnant?”

“Course I let them get pregnant, doll.”

“But-“

He gives you a dry, amused look. “Would you rather I interfere? You want me to cockblock Bubs?”

You blink at him. “You know what cockblock means?”

Your brain had given him the personality of an eighty-year-old man. You don’t know why, but you stopped asking questions like “why” and “what” a long time ago. You just know that he shouldn’t know what cockblock means, for consistency.  

“Of course I know what it means. You taught it to me.” He winks at you, and you’re pretty sure you’re flushing.

This is meant to be a dream. You shouldn’t be able to flush, or feel a little flutter and hum in your heart, or something molten in your gut when he leans a little further forward to grin down at you.

This seems less like a dream every night.

You’d be worried about that if you had the energy, or foresight, or care.

“Are goats births gross?” You ask, and he chuckles again. The sound has started to inflict a sort of high on your brain, and every color in this dreamworld seems brighter. 

“They’re fucking disgusting.” He leans a little further down. You have to stare at his nose to pretend the proximity isn’t going to make your fall over. “But if you let me show you one in here, I’ll let you name the babies out there.”

You nod kind of stupidly, the whole world shifts into a barn—goat births are disgusting, but Bucky gets a look of intense focus you’d like to see re-aimed in your direction—and four months later Bucky tells you little Oz The Great and Powerful, Donald Duck, and Pants McPantsface have been welcomed into the world.

———

“So you’d see him in… Wakanda.” Raynor takes another long breath. If you didn’t think it would make everything worse, you’d tell her to try some deep breathing exercises. “Did the location ever change? Did you witness any more of those murders from before?”

You feel something spark in your chest like an electric wire, and you sit a little taller. You haven’t seen Bucky kill anyone since you’d been trapped in his brain. He’s a good man. And, as far as Raynor knows, a figment of your imagination. She has no right to fucking imply-

“It’s important that I know,” she says slowly, and you think your oddly blinding and righteous anger had been painted all over your face. “So I better understand what’s been happening to you. Please,” she says your name, leaning somehow further forward in her seat. “Answer my questions.”

You nod, letting out a slow exhale. “No murders. But he did start coming into my brain.”

Raynor frowns at you. “Was he not always-“

“Not like this.”

———

“This is new.”

You whip around, taking a stumbling step back that would’ve landed you on the floor, had Bucky not looped his one arm around your waist.

“Hey, doll. Pleasure seeing you-“ He frowns, glancing around your apartment. “Where the hell am I?”

You don’t answer, only reaching up to touch his face. His beard is soft. His hair is softer. When you trace the line of his nose it does feel like a nose, and when you poke his cheek it seems pretty cheek-like- 

“What, uh,” Bucky say your name, scanning over your face with concern. “What’s happening here.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whisper, poking his cheek again. Just to be sure. “You’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, figured that one out myself-“

“No.” You shake your head, placing one hand on his chest. It fits well there, slotting right over muscle and warm skin. Every part of him seems to fit perfectly against you, and you’ve never been this close before, but you don’t have any urge to move away. “You don’t get it, Bucky. You’ve never been here. It’s been ten years, and you’ve never been here.”

“I know, doll. Doesn’t seem like there’s much to-“ He pauses, giving you an odd look. “Ten years?”

“Yeah.” You mumble. There’s not much else to say.

He just stares at you, and shakes his head slightly. “Huh. You gonna tell me where I am?”

“My apartment.”

“Your-“ He starts slightly, but you never shake in his arms. “You live in this place?”

You nod, and he pulls you to your feet, scanning over your home. 

The silence wraps around your heart and lungs, and the room is spinning slightly. You’re asleep. You’re pretty fucking sure you’re asleep. You locked the door, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed, so you’re asleep. Bucky’s never been here before, but he’s not really here because this is a dream and he’s not real.

You think. 

You wouldn’t bet on that anymore, though.

And nothing has ever been as important as Bucky liking your room, because the longer he just scans over the space around you the more your skin heats, the more your eyes blur, the more your throat constricts and your heart aches and pounds-

“It’s very… you.” He finally says, and every bit of nerve vanishes into the air.

He’s right. You’ve been very deliberate in making sure your home is yours.

And you’re not sure why you bothered worrying at all. He fits here, just as well as he fits in every other part of you.

“Can I get the grand tour?” He raises his brows, and you nod, leading him through your space, making jokes and feeling your heart do a little flip and spin whenever he chuckles.

And things always do change. Frequently out in the real world, and carefully and easily in here.

And at least with Bucky, the change seems adaptive. You grow, he grows with you, until you’re twined and rooted into each other, and every color in this dreamscape is so vivid it’s the only thing that still tells you:

None of this is real.

———

“It was split after that.” You say. ”Half the dreams in Wakanda, half in New York.” 

You’re watching Raynor carefully. Still on the edge of her seat, legs braced like she’s ready for a fight, a tight expression on her face that Bucky calls the moose in headlights expression.

———

“You got that moose expression again, doll.”

You frown at him. “Stop calling it that, it’s just my face-“

“No. Your normal face has a dimple here, and your brows rest like that.”

He’s touching you as he explains, moving your features to match his words. You’d smack his hand away if his touch wasn’t soothing and flaring all at once. If you didn’t really love the idea of him looking at you long enough to know exactly how to adjust your face, and how to be right about it.

“But it’s not like that now.” He finishes, giving you a pointed look. “You got moose-face.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Moose-face is worse, Bucky. And it’s still not a real thing-“

“Yeah it is. Most people got a moose face.” He shrugs. He’s staring again. It’s taking a lot of effort not to melt forward into him. “Tight expression. Like a deer in headlights, but they think they’re too good to be in the headlights. They’re gonna go down fighting.”

“Oh.” You tilt your head, giving him a sickly-sweet smile. “Can I see your moose face?”

“I don’t have a moose face-“

“Liar.” You poke his ribs, narrowing your eyes. “You said everyone has one-“

“I said ‘most people.’” Bucky shrugs. “Moose face means you’re gonna get hit, you just don’t believe it yet. I know how to not get hit.”

“Sounds like something someone with a moose-face would say.”

He chuckles. You’re sitting down, and you’re going to fall over. “No luck, doll. I got other faces, but no moose face.” He frowns at the air. “Never could afford to have one.”

There’s suddenly something heavier in his eyes, and it makes your whole body feel wired and heavy. It’s suffocating and crushing and rotten, and it’s just an expression but everything feels worse when you see it—when his shoulders hunch and his face becomes set like stone, just like all those years ago in the bathroom—so it needs to stop right now. 

“What about a wolf face?”

Bucky blinks at you. “What.”

“You said no moose face.” You cross your arms, raising your chin slightly. “Do you have a wolf face?”

“I don’t know what that is-“

“So suddenly you’re the only one who’s allowed to make up expressions?”

You hold is gaze for a long second—you’ve gotten really good at doing that, but only when you’re dreaming of Bucky—until his lips twitch slightly.

And everything feels alright again.

———

“How much of New York appeared in your… dreams? Was is like Wakanda, where you wandered?”

You frown at the air. Raynor’s indulging in this, but not like you’d hoped. Not shutting you down or telling you that you’re crazy. You’d really hoped to hear some validation that you were just plain crazy.

“Not really. I mean, there was one night where we were at my job, a few at the coffee shop I usually go to, and maybe like, five at the park, but we were mostly my apartment when I was showing him stuff.”

“And what did you-“ Raynor’s whole body tenses, and the last part of her question is pushed through her teeth. “What did you show Bucky?”

You flush, your gaze dropping down to your hands. “Stuff. In my apartment.”

———

You don’t know exactly what gives. What straw completely desolates every single bone in your body, and ends with you here.

Maybe it was that you’d finally mentioned all the murders, and you’d never seem him look horrified before, but the sight has dislodged something along your ribs that hadn’t mended until he let you move his head to your lap. Stroking his hair as he stared at you, telling him about your day.

Maybe it’s that you always tell him about your day. That this—whatever this is—has shifted from trading teasing comments and trying to learn about each other, into pure and comfortable understanding, and now that’s how most nights are spent.

Bucky’s reports are short. The goats are being goats—that’s all they know how to do—he doesn’t like a song someone tried to make him listen to because it’s too loud, and Shuri brought him some food that made his face feel like it was going to fall off, but in a good way. You pretty sure he only gives them because you insist upon it, but he always puffs out his chest a little at the end, when you smile at him and start to tell him everything you can remember about your own day.

Maybe it’s how he always hangs onto your every word. Like it’s gospel or scripture, and to do anything but listen and watch would be a higher sin than any blood you’ve imagined on his hands.

And maybe that’s it. 

Maybe it’s how you really don’t believe it anymore, when you remind yourself that he’s not real. That he’s just a figment of your mind, manifested to evolve as you do and always be exactly what you need. 

You still tell yourself the lie, night after night.

But you’re certain it’s a lie. That Bucky is just like that. Meant to be here, with you, the exact same way you’re supposed to be wherever he is.

And now you’re here.

You’d started it. You’d slammed your mouth to his, and he hadn’t moved. There had been a brief moment where you’d been worried you’d made a mistake, but the second you’d tried to push back on his chest and apologize, he’d kicked into gear. 

And wet dreams are supposed to be hazy. Cast in a misting light and more of a halo that brings your body high than an actual, nameable feeling.

But you can really feel this. 

And it’s heaven.

You’d expected Bucky to kiss slowly. Deliberately. It’s how you’d always seen him move and speak, and you hadn’t been against the idea of being kissed in a methodical and careful way.

You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

Bucky kisses you like you’re air and water and every good thing in the world. All passion and spit and burning desire, where you can feel every bit of want in his movements. His mouth is demanding as he traces his tongue over your teeth and groans your name down your throat, his arm snaking around your waist to hold you steady against his chest. When his knee presses between your thighs you have to wrap your arms around his neck for balance, and it’s all you can do to return ever bit of want he throws at you as he walks to backwards to your mattress.

It takes effort to pry your mouth from Bucky’s. He doesn’t want you to go, even a few inches, and when you start to palm him through his pants—smiling against his lips and squeezing his bulge in a silent request—he hisses against your lips.

“You-“ He groans, nipping at your lower lip as you smile, repeating the movement. “You don’t- Shit, doll, you don’t know what you’re doing to me-“

You hum, bumping your nose with his and swaying in his hold. “Maybe. I’d like to do more.”

Bucky chuckles, and the sound rolls right into your core. “Think you could take more, sweetheart? Cause I’ve been a gentleman, but if more is on the table-“

It’s easy to cut him off with a heavy, deep kiss that has him half growling down your throat and his hips jerking against your movements.

“Want more.” You whisper, combing your free hand through his hair and trying to pull yourself impossibly closer. “Want you.”

Bucky tenses against you, and when you lean back to meet his eyes he’s staring again. Looking at you like you’re glowing, kneading your skin under his hand like he’s checking that you’re not going to vanish. 

“You want me.” He mutters, scanning over your flushed face. “You sure about-“

“Yes.” You nod, giving him a small, soft smile. “Only if you do, obviou-“

Bucky cuts you off with another bruising kiss, and before you know what’s happening he’s lowering you onto the mattress, kneeling between your legs, and shoving your thighs apart with a wolf-like grin.

You don’t know when you ended up naked. You can’t really care though, because Bucky shoves his face right into your pussy, and your mind empties of all thoughts that aren’t his name. 

It’s another point in favor of this being a dream. Bucky’s mouth against your cunt feels so amazingly real—licking and biting and eating you out like he’s been starved for a hundred years—but this has to be a dream, because no real man has ever made you feel this good. He knows every single way the plunge his tongue in and out of your pussy until you’re squeezing your thighs around his head and tugging at his hair, and his beard scrapes and tickles at your thighs in a way that’s driving you out of your mind, and fuck, he keeps moving his attention to nip at your clit, sucking it between his lips and letting his teeth graze against you, and-

“Bucky-“ You moan, grinding shameless into his face, trying hopelessly to remain upright with one hand, your fingers fisted into the sheets below you. “Please- I’m gonna- Fuck, I’m so close-“

He growls against you, flatting his tongue against your clit and squeezing his hand on your thigh, and that does it. You cum with a scream of his name, warmth washing over your body as your knees clamp around him and your eyes roll back in your head.

He’s ruined you. All Bucky did was eat you out in a dream, and you’re panting and flushed and drunk on him. You don’t know how you’ll manage to move on from this in real life.

You don’t really care. Not as Bucky runs his hand over your dripping, fluttering cunt with a look of open awe on his face, presses a kiss right over your clit that makes your hips jerk, and moves to his feet.

He’s naked now too. 

And he’s perfect. 

His cock is big and thick, standing at proud attention and jerking slightly as you run a hand up his thighs, your fingers trailing over his balls and a little drool falling out of your lips as you lean to take him in your mouth-

Bucky’s hand tangles in your hair, pulling you back to meet his eyes.

He looks just as wrecked as you feel. Chest heaving and eyes blown with lust. You’re going to lose your mind.

“Bucky-“

“Not now.” He mutters, pulling you a little further back. “Need to be inside of you, doll. Please.”

You’d have to be insane to say no.

You crawl back on the mattress, spreading your legs in silence invitation, and something hot and powerful flashes in his eyes as he takes you in. 

“You-“

“I’m sure.” You squirm in the sheets, running your hand between your legs and starting to rub your clit in slow, strong circles. “God, I’m so fucking sure, please-“

He’s shockingly fast for such a large man. It might be the whole dream thing, but you barely register him moving to kneel over you, swatting your hand away with a darkened gaze a set jaw.

“I do that,” he grunts, running two fingers up and down your cunt, smirking at you high whine. “Legs open, doll, want to see how wet I’m making you.”

You nod, falling flat on your back, and pour all your focus into his order. “Fuck, Bucky-“ He shoves the fingers into your pussy, and your back arches off the bed. “Shit- I- Please-“

“You want my cock?” He drawls your name, and you can only nod dumbly at the ceiling. “Come on, tell me you want it-“

“Want it,” you gasp, hugging your body as he starts to pump his finger, crooking them at the exact right spot deep inside of you. “Fuck, Bucky, you said- You said you’d fuck me-“

He clicks his tongue. “I said I’d be inside of you-“

“But- But I want you to fuck me.” You start to roll your hips as his pace picks up. “Please, Bucky-“

You whine as his fingers vanish, leaving you clenching around only the air, but it’s a short-lived pain.

Bucky slams into you with one thrust, and you’d been wrong again.

He hadn’t ruined you. He’s destroyed you.

You’ve never been so full in your life. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life. With a fervor that should be painful, but just makes you feel wanted. Cared for. Bucky’s every thrust is brutal and rough, and his mouth on yours is that same feral kiss from before, but he’s pressed his body over yours like he’s trying to shield you from the world, and he’s groaning your name down your throat like it’s a hymn.

You’d say his name too, if you could remember how to speak. But Bucky’s hitting every right spot deep in your pussy, and you’re so high the world is just color and light and Bucky, and when he starts to suck and kiss a line down your throat, along your collarbone, and over your tits, you’re sure you’re going to fly out of your skin.

Then he takes your nipple into his mouth, and the sound you make is almost inhuman. Your release crashes over you like a wave, Bucky groans against your breast as you squeeze around his cock, and a burning warmth coats your thighs and cunt as he cums with a roar.

You make a small noise of content as Bucky pulls out, kissing a soft line back up your jaw before dropping his brow to yours and letting out a long, slow breath.

“That was…” He trails off, moving his hand to hold your hips, drawing firm patterns with his thumb that might drive you out of your mind.

“Yeah.” You whisper. “It was.”

He nods, and neither of you move for a really long time. Usually you’ve woken up by now, but no part of you is eager to go, eager to leave where there’s still a little buzz in your heart from the pleasure, where you can feel a perfect ache between your legs and you’re so happily trapped under the warmth of Bucky’s body-

Happy. 

You’re happy. 

This isn’t real, but under Bucky’s body you’re safe and warm and happy. And you don’t want to go. 

Almost as if he can read your mind, Bucky clears his throat.

“Thank you.” He mutters, his breath hot and soft over your ear. “Needed this.” There a long pause, and his hand squeezes on your hips. “Needed you. And I know it’s dumb to thank you, because-“

“It’s not.” You cut him off with a kiss to his neck, rubbing your hand up and down his back. “And I needed you too.”

He lets out a dry laugh that you don’t understand, but doesn’t push on it. Just kisses your brow and rolls onto his back, taking you with him and clinging to you like you’re a tether to something a little more important than just a dream.

And you really don’t know why he’d laughed. 

You do need him. You’re growing more and more certain every night that you need Bucky more than you need anything in real life. That he’s more than anyone else, and that he maybe, possibly, could be real.

He feels real, beneath you with a calloused hand squeezing at your skin and your finger tracing over the scars near his arm. 

He sounds real, when you finally ask why he only has one arm, and he takes a very long breath but mutters that he fell off a train. When he tells you that bad people found him, and he wasn’t really the best guy either, for a really long time. 

He tastes real when you kiss him for comfort, and smells real when you bury your face in his neck as he continues. 

You know he’s not telling you everything, but you also know he’s not lying. 

And you really do know that, in some strange and impossible way, this might be real.

———

“I see.” Raynor swallows, and she won’t stop staring at you. “Did those, ah, occurrences happen again?”

You nod, staring at your hands. “Pretty much every time after.” A smile tugs at your lips. “One time we used the barn.”

“I-“ Raynor sighs. “Understood. How long, exactly, did this continue?”

“They never stopped, not until-“ Your nails dig into your skin, and a heavy stone lodges itself in your throat. “The, uh, the blip.”

———

These have been the worst five years of your life. And they haven’t been amazing for anyone, but no one else has to feel this like you do.

And that’s selfish. A little narcissistic. Incredibly crude.

But it doesn’t make it any less true.

Because everyone lost people. Everyone watched loved ones vanish right in front of them, witnessed the world fall and crumble around them as half of humanity vanished, and got left in the rubble to pick up the pieces. 

But no one else seems to feel this. Nobody else seems to be falling apart at the seams from nothing at all like you are. Because Bucky was probably never real. But he’s gone. 

And you don’t know how to move on.

It’s odd to grieve a dream. It makes living impossible. You go to all the support groups and listen to everyone share their own pain, and it makes your heart ache for them but nothing in you ever seems to heal. It’s as if a piece of you had been ripped out and ground to ash, and mending over it would be blasphemous. You don’t want to fix it. You need to, because this is no way to exist, but it feels wrong every time you try. As if even your body can’t just admit he’s gone, and you need to keep going. But everything feels artificial. Every breath is mechanical, and every beat of your heart feels shallow and deliberate, like it’s only doing just enough to keep you alive.

What’s worse is that you can’t tell anyone why you’ve become a sunken, hollow shell. You’d sound insane. You’re already not winning any points in the sound of mind department, and you do have a record, so if you went to one of the countless therapists who have been making their living off of everyone’s loss and said ‘see, doctor, the person I loved only existed in my dreams, but he vanished with the snap and now it feels like I’ve been cleaved in half’, you’d be locked up in an asylum.

You hate that you’re only realizing it now. That the overwhelming sense of warmth and peace you felt in your dreams with Bucky was love. That you’d fallen in love with a piece of your own mind. You’d basically fallen in love with your reflection. Your annoying, handsome, grumpy reflection that you’d rip your spine out of your body to reshape it back into his form, to bring him back to your side.

And the dreams still happen. He’s just not there, and it’s the worst thing in the fucking universe. You keep coming back to a forest, and there’s a little ash that’s always drifting around in the air, that feels really important.

It all always feels like more than just Bucky being gone. It feels like you’ve missed a train, or taken a wrong turn, and lost a key that double as a compass, and now you’re stranded at the bottom of the ocean. 

Alone. 

You’ve spent your whole life with only yourself to rely on, but you’ve never felt more alone.

———

“And after the blip?”

“He came back.” You’re going to cry. You really hate crying in front of Raynor—she always tells you it’s going to be okay, and you fucking know that—but you can’t stop it. Because Bucky really did come back, and it’s still the best thing that ever happened to you.

———

During the past five years, your sleep has gotten fucked. You get about four hours a night, because that’s just long enough to keep you functional but too short to allow you to appear in the forest.

So it took a while to pass out. You’d curled up in your bed, drank tea, done yoga, followed every ‘how to fall asleep fast’ internet guide until your eyes drooped, and you were gone.

When the dream takes shape around you, you’re not in the forest, but in a sleek, hospital-like room that you don’t recognize. 

And he’s there. 

Bucky’s right fucking there.

You make a small, choked sound, and his eyes shoot to yours in an instant. 

He’s moving in a second. Half launching across the room to grab you before your knees give out, holding you to his chest as you cling to his shirt and press your face into his neck. 

“Hey,” he mutters your name, and you can hear the low horror in it. He’s putting together why you’re crying. Why you’re scratching at his neck and trying to half climb up his body. “You’re alright. It’s all good, doll, everything’s good now-“

You cut him off with a long, heavy kiss, and his hand moves to cup your head. 

He has two hands again. You don’t really care why.

Because Bucky’s rubbing circles on the skin of your waist, and letting you cry without making a big fucking deal about it, and nothing mended. Nothing’s ever mended. You’ve been a little fucking broken for a long time, with or without Bucky. But it had been a kind of broken that had folded and shaped with him, and when he’d been gone it was like half your organs had been frozen and crumbled in your body.

But he’s back. And you feel real again.

———

There’s a long silence in the air, and you know what’s coming. The question. You’ve known she’s going to ask it the whole time—you’d honestly expected it a lot sooner—and you’ve been prepared. You have a very long speech about how Bucky had changed again—short hair, kept the new arm, appearing in his own, mostly empty apartment and trading the Wakandan clothing for jeans and jackets—and that he’d told you how much he hated some guy named John. 

He’d said he despised the asshole. That he was everything Steve had hated—you’d had a pretty good idea who Steve was, based on context and a theory but you hadn’t be quite ready to it yet—and nothing sounded better than punching his lights out. 

And you’re ready to explain that you’d had the news on in the background, a few words had broken from static background noise, and your whole world had shifted. John Walker had been announced as the new Captain America, they’d run a stupid little fluff piece on the life of Steve Rogers, and there was Bucky. Captain America’s best friend and ally, the assumed cause of that whole the Avengers are breaking up thing, and the former Winter Solider. 

You’d mostly stared at the screen for a really long time as everything feel into place—you’d looked him up after, and it was a little embarrassing it had taken you this long given that he has a Wikipedia page—before calling Raynor, and preparing for the question.

But when she asks it, your mind goes blank, and all you can’t think to say is the truth.

“May I ask,” Raynor says carefully. ”Why are you only discussing this now?”

“Because he’s real.”

———

Bucky has dreams. Not nightmares.

Dreams.

He dreams about Her. She’s the only constant in his life, the only solace and purely good thing he knows, and She’s not even damn real.

Bucky’s pretty sure She’s not real. It wouldn’t make any sense for Her to be real. He’d spent most of the years assuming that She was simply a result of him being able to dream again, a trick of his mind that was both a comfort and a torture, because he needed those dreams—needed Her, in a strange way that lived in his chest and was soft on his skin—more than he’d ever needed anything, but they also reminded him of what he’d never have.

A life in a simple apartment, filled with his own presence in a way that was easy. He always loved that about Her apartment. How everywhere he looked, She was there. The colors and furniture and posters and trinkets on the shelves all screamed Her, and no one could ever replicate that if they tried. 

He didn’t know how to do that anywhere. How to just be him in a way that didn’t feel like something was strangling him. His apartment was barren. Every time he spoke it felt like he should be apologize immediately after, because barely anyone seemed to like him, let alone want to hear him.

Bucky understood that. He wasn’t exactly his own biggest fan, and the only time there was no part of him trying to escape his own body was when he was asleep, and She was at his side. 

He liked being himself with Her. It was simple, and natural, and never a labor. She never flinched away from him—She seemed to like being close to him—and Bucky never really wanted to wake up. Part of him always hoped that this time, when he fell asleep and She appeared once more, he’d wake up in Her apartment, and it would all be real.

A very small part of him needed this—needed Her—to be real. It would be really amazing if She was real. It wasn’t something he deserved to ask for, to plead with the universe about, but he did. He kept trying to come up with reasons She could be real.

She felt real, in his dreams. She spoke and acted like a person, and not a doll or shell his brain may have created to get him through his de-programming. She was always saying things and making references he didn’t get until she explained them, things he was certain he hadn’t heard in passing. She was way prettier than anyone Bucky had ever seen, which would contribute to Her being only a dream if he wasn’t so certain that he simply wasn’t that creative.

He could imagine a pretty girl.

He couldn’t imagine Her.

Smart and funny and gorgeous, fitting against him like She’d been molded to, teasing him in ways he’d never thought of and kind to him ways he couldn’t be kind to himself. 

She was never disgusted by the arm, and Bucky was sure that—if She was only a part of his mind given shape—she would know about the whole Winter Soldier thing. But he’d had to explain all he could to Her, and when he’d left certain, darker parts out She hadn’t said but that’s not the truth, is it, James.

She seemed to like Bucky. That was the most concrete proof he had that She had to somehow be real. Nobody liked him. Not in to raw, unrelenting way She did.

So She had to be real.

Bucky really hoped, against all odds, that she was real. 

It would fix a lot of problems if She was real. Sam kept trying to get him to date, and he didn’t want to. He always felt like he was betraying Her. It wasn’t sustainable or logical, but logic didn’t really matter here, because Bucky’s gut would wither and his hands would curl into fists every time he had to try and flirt with another woman. They didn’t fit against him as well as She did. Their teasing would either bite too hard or not bite at all, and the night would end with Bucky falling back into Her arms. 

He asked Shuri—very vaguely, he didn’t want his brain to be poked and prodded again—what reoccurring dreams could mean.

“Reoccurring?” She’d frowned at him over the video call. “You’ll have to clarify, reoccurring can mean many things.”

“Uh,” Bucky had swallowed, glancing at his mattress across the room. “A dream you have every night. And it could change, but it’s always the same person in it?”

Shuri had given him an odd look. “Have you been having a dream like that?”

“No.” His answer had been too fast. He needed to keep it together if he was going to sell this. “Sam has. He mentioned that he kept seeing some lady in his dreams, and she felt real but he’d never met her before. Thought I’d do him a favor and ask about it.”

It wasn’t the best lie he’d ever told, if Shuri look of doubt had been any indication. But she bit, and kept moving.

“Well, it looks as if Sam,” she’d given him a pointed look, and Bucky had forced his face to remain completely neutral. “Has found his soulmate.”

Bucky had stared at her for a really long time. His vision had blurred, there had been a ringing in his ears, and time had seemed to still as Shuri’s words sank in.

Soulmate.

“I thought, uh,” Bucky had cleared his throat, his voice a little hoarse. “Soulmates aren’t real-“

“Of course they’re real.” Shuri had shrugged. “Soulmate is an archaic term for two brains that emit the exact same neuroelectricity, their nerve paths aligning completely. Often they will have differing personalities and lives, but the tie of the biology will link them in sleep, and they will experience incredibly vivid lucid dreams. Like this video conference, but if our minds and bodies were built to fall in love with each other. It is rare, but not impossible.”

Bucky had frowned. “But I- uh, Sam said he’s only had these dreams about four years-“

“Sam’s brain underwent severe rewiring and torment.” Shuri’s voice had been dry, her expression flat. “He would do well to remember that his connection may have been slightly mauled, and only after a certain genius princess fixed him would he have been able to reciprocate the bond fully.”

Oh.

The first time Bucky had appeared in Her apartment, She had said ten years. When She’d appeared to him for the very first time, She’d said she’d dreamt of him before.

Bucky had assumed that had been another way his brain was comforting him. Telling him he could be the type of person a pretty girl like Her dreamed about.

But when he thought about it—clenched his jaw and drew up the heavier, blood-stained memories of the Soldier—there had sometimes been someone in his body with him. Not the Soldier, but the third presence that wasn’t hostile. Wasn’t really foreign. Just was. 

“Could the-“ Bucky had swallowed, watching Shuri carefully as he spoke. “Sam said he could sometimes feel the gal while he was awake. Is that a thing that could happen?”

“If Sam was not himself, and the soulmate was not of full maturity, yes.”

Bucky had felt himself pale. “What do you mean, full maturity-“

“You are a hundred years old, Mr. Barnes.” Shuri had raised her brows, and all pretense of Sam had dropped. “There would have naturally been a point where your soulmate was a child, as that is how most people begin their lives. It is likely that you were still under the control of Hydra in your soulmate’s youth, and she would have only been a growing presence in your mind until she was a full person, and you were no longer only the shell of a man I met after my father’s death.”

“So she- Would she have seen what I did? As the Solider?”

He knew She had. She’d told him She had.

Bucky still didn’t want it to be true.

Shuri had given him a sympathetic look. “Unfortunately, yes. She would have. But if she is what you say, she is a perfect match to you in every way. She will not care what you were before, under the control of Hydra.”

“But-“

“It is not something worth protesting, Bucky.” Shuri had sighed, leaning a little closer to the camera. “This is not something that can be severed or changed, so please do not bother to ask. And remember that she is real. Her own person, with her own pain. I would recommend you attempt to find her, but that is something you will have to decide for yourself.”

And now he was here. Staring at the dark screen where Shuri’s face had been moments before, his head still spinning around the word. 

Soulmate.

She’d made is sound scientific. Possible. Bucky could have a soulmate. 

He didn’t deserve a soulmate. Not one he’d likely trapped in his mind, forced to witness the brutal atrocities he’d committed as the Winter Solider.

And he wanted to find Her. Bucky wanted to touch Her and kiss her and keep her longer than just the night. To wake up and see Her next to him, tangible and all his. 

He’d liked the idea of something being his in a way that wasn’t a curse. In a way he could throw his all right back to Her, and she’d catch it. 

But there was still the sour, molding feeling over his heart that—since She was real, and probably had Her own issues to deal with—She wouldn’t want him in her life. Not Her real life, where everything was more complicate than just them in a literal dream.

He shouldn’t find Her. She’d be better off without him. Bucky would do nothing but make Her life more complicated, and he could get through this know that She was real and safe, far away from him but still haunting his dreams in the best way possible.

He was so lost in his head he misses the first phone call. And the second one.

It was the third one that got his attention—buzzing and ringing on the table next to his computer, Dr. Raynor flashing across the screen—and the fourth one he actually managed to pick up.

Bucky didn’t bother to hide the tension in his voice when he spoke. He really didn’t have the time or energy for this, not right now. “Doc, I’m not due back for another four days-“

“I’m aware, James, I keep a calendar.” Raynor sighed through the speaker, and Bucky had never heard her sound so tense. It was a little concerning. “However, I am going to have to request you come in today. It’s an emergency.”

He scowled. “What emergency, I haven’t done anything emergency worthy-“

“It’s not only about you.” Raynor snapped. “And I’m changing it from a request to an order. Office in twenty minutes.” There was a long pause, and then a whispered, “Please.”

That wasn’t good.

“Did I get in trouble?” Bucky asked, his grip on the phone tightening. “Cause I’ve been following all the stupid rules, and if Sam says I did something he’s just being a dramatic dick-“

Raynor sighed, and Bucky could picture the thin look of exhaustion on her face. “You are not in trouble, James. It’s not- I can’t explain over the phone. It may be better for you to see.”

“See what?”

“Just come to the fucking office.”

Bucky blinked, and the line went dead.

Raynor couldn’t make him go. But he also had never heard her swear like that. Or order him to come in before an appointment.

He was a little curious. And it wasn’t like he had anything else to do today but drown in the knowledge of what Shuri had told him, trying to work out how he’d face Her tonight.

So he went to the office. Chances are it was nothing. Bucky couldn’t imagine it would be something. He spent the whole ride trying to think of an idea, came up blank, and decided that Sam had mentioned something to Raynor about how Bucky had been brooding more than usual, and he was just going to have to explain the whole I’m not brooding, I’m just sick of Sam’s blind date bullshit and also maybe have a soulmate thing. Then he’s kick Sam’s ass, and everything would be fine.

Bucky entered to office with a whole speech ready. His chin raised high and his arms crossed, because he was already having a very weird and complex day, and he didn’t need this. 

All the words were knocked out of him the moment he opened the door, glanced around the room, and saw who was on the couch.

Her.

In person. 

Very, very real, and in Raynor’s office, and here.

Raynor said Her name. The name Bucky knew Her by, and her last name. 

It was a nice last name. Barnes would suit Her better, but the idea that she was real enough to have a last name was already bringing Bucky to his knees, so he’d have to save that thought for later.

“Meet James Barnes.” Raynor was probably looking between them. Bucky couldn’t be sure though, because he couldn’t stop staring at Her.

She was moving to Her feet, and seeing Her in person was somehow even better. She was sharper around the edges, and more colorful in small, bright ways, and nothing about Her felt like it could ever slip between Bucky’s fingers.

She wasn’t mist. She wasn’t an illusion, or a coping mechanism.

She was real.

Walking towards him with wide eyes and an open mouth, reaching a hand up to poke at his face. Tracing his nose and running fingers over his cheekbones, Her eyes never leaving his.

Bucky caught Her hand right as it brushed over his lips, and She made the prettiest gasp he’d ever heard.

“You’re real.” He said, because it was all he could think of. Nothing about this was a dream. Bucky would not have a dream where Raynor was watching him restrain himself from kissing Her until she collapsed in his arms.

“I’m real.” She whispered, and Her voice was better in real life too. “You’re here.”

He nodded. “I’m here.” He paused, scanning over Her open features. “Don’t think I’m going anywhere, doll.”

Her face split into a wide smile, all teeth and light and joy. For Bucky. 

There was adoration on Her face, and it was all for Bucky.

“Good.” Her smile grew, Her fingers tangling with his metal ones. “Because I’m not either.”

End Note: Save me Bucky Barnes raising goats. Bucky Barnes raising goats, save me.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr @Youdontknowe @panicking-outside-the-disco

@Ambiguous-avery @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @ilovedeanwinchester4 @tiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @winchester-whiskey @jsudsgf @deans-yn @jofinka

[akimiiyo]

-> JEALOUSY

⌗synopsis : genshin men when they’re jealous.

⌗characters : diluc, kaeya, albedo, zhongli, childe, baizhu, xiao, thoma, ayato, heizou, wanderer, kazuha, tighnari, cyno, alhaitham, kaveh, neuvillette, lyney, dainsleif, dottore, pantalone, capitano, pierro.

⌗cw : gn!reader, not proofread, lowercase intended, probably ooc.

he’s a gentleman, he doesn’t get jealous often because he knows for a fact that he has nothing to worry about. you’ve never done anything that made him feel as if he had to watch out and he’s certain that you never will. although he can still get annoyed at the sight of another man flirting with you. it was his insisting even after you turned him down that angered him the most. nonetheless, he doesn’t let such people interfere with his composure. he’ll act mature and take you somewhere else once he sees that the man has no intentions of leaving you alone. as soon as you both get a moment alone together, however, he won’t hesitate to plant a few more kisses than usual. just in case, y’know?

diluc, zhongli, alhaitham, neuvillette, dainsleif, capitano.

he won’t admit it, but he gets jealous often. he doesn’t want to confront you about it because he believes it’s embarrassing and silly to feel that way. i mean, you’re his and he’s yours. you love him so much, there’s no need to worry, right? yet, he still can’t help but fume at the sight of strangers complimenting you. he can’t blame them, but he still would rather for people to be blind if that meant that they’d leave you alone. he’s aware of how unfair that would be, so he just stays quiet, either sulking or glaring at those people as you offer them a kind smile until you’re both alone where he’ll be needing your utmost attention.

xiao, albedo, thoma, kazuha, kaveh, baizhu.

he’s jealous and he’ll show it. hit on his partner? right in front of him? absolutely not. he might try to keep his calm at first, but as time passes and this scumbag is still around, he won’t hold back. not to worry, he won’t do anything extreme (unless he’s forced to do so), he just wants to make things clear to this guy. he’ll keep it simple at first, simply making subtle comments until he actually starts going straight to the point. after a while, he’ll take your arm and walk away with you, now being angrier than before. the way that guy was talking to him, but especially you, has him furious. be prepared to listen to his angry rant about that random dude. be also prepared to shut him up, you know how.

kaeya, childe, heizou, tighnari, cyno, wanderer, lyney.

this guy almost sees you as his property, his jealousy is unmatched. he won’t take anything lightly. if you’re trying to make advantages on his partner, then you’re asking for it. simple as that! he won’t let anyone think they might have a chance with you because you’re destined to be with him and only him. so obviously, he must make it clear to everybody to not even try. if someone is bold enough though, he’ll just stand beside you, piercing through this man’s soul with his icy gaze. thankfully, nothing ever escalated from that. not that he wouldn’t be capable of doing that, these poor souls simply knew better than to get against someone of that status and reputation.

ayato, dottore, pantalone, pierro.

⌗a/n : im not really proud of this, i might edit it once i have time. it’s 4am and i was supposed to be studying, but i ended up writing this instead. talk about procrastination 😪 let me know if i made any mistakes pls

want to read more? take a look at my masterlist!

©2024 akimiiyo. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

[genshinluvr]

Territorial

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader x Neuvillette

Summary: Things seem to be going well when the men from Fontaine moved into the abode. Or at least that's what the others thought. You, however, can sense some tension between Zhongli and Neuvillette.

Note: How long has it been since I've posted something? A year? Over a year? Either way, I am somewhat back! Since I haven't posted fanfics in a long time, the new fanfics will be shorter compared to the previous fanfics. I'm slowly easing myself back into posting fanfics. This fic is most likely awful, but that's okay because it's been a while. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: I haven't written in a while, so, it's probably a shit fanfic LMAO

Word Count: 4.5k

Ever since the men of Fontaine decided to move into the abode, things were relatively fine. The men got along with each other, and there have yet to be any arguments or physical altercations. Yet. However, you couldn’t help but notice a certain someone avoiding one of the new members of the abode. You weren’t sure if everyone noticed the brewing tension between an Archon and the Iudex, but it was subtle yet noticeable (to you). 

The men didn’t have an issue sharing your love, affection, and attention with the others. While there are certain men who can be quite possessive (Childe), it usually never gets out of hand. Or, at least, that’s what you thought. Zhongli has been clingy lately— not that you’re complaining, but it was a little bit unusual because he’s not publicly affectionate. Even if he is openly affectionate with you, it wouldn’t be overbearing. Okay, maybe overbearing isn’t the right word to describe it.

“Maybe territorial is the best way to describe it.” You mutter.

Zhongli hums beside you, looking over at you curiously. “Care to repeat that, dearest?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts before rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile. “Oh, nothing! I was trying to find a word to describe a Rishboland Tiger for my word puzzle!” You gesture to the word puzzle book in front of you. 

Zhongli leans toward you, peering over your shoulders and at the word puzzle in front of you. His amber eyes scan the page as if he’s checking to see if you’re doing the puzzle correctly. Thankfully, you are! Zhongli hums, stroking the rim of his teacup, preoccupied with the puzzle book. You rub your eyes before glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s almost eight in the morning, and yet here you are! Usually, you’d be in bed, sleeping the morning away until someone forces you out of bed (the person forcing you to wake up is usually Al Haitham). 

“And territorial would be correct,” Zhongli nods, smiling at you, “you’re doing well.”

You smile shyly before covering your now very warm face with the word puzzle book. Zhongli chuckles, pressing a kiss on the side of your head before proceeding to stir his warm cup of tea. A comfortable silence falls over you and Zhongli. Aside from you and Zhongli, everyone is still asleep in their respective rooms. Well, aside from Childe and Wriothesley because the two men decided to become gym buddies who get up at ungodly hours to workout, spar, and box. Given Childe's past in Fontaine, you can’t help but find it slightly odd.

Heels clicking against the floors of the abode pulls you and Zhongli out of the comfortable silence. Zhongli lets out a long exhale through his nostrils before taking a long sip of his tea, looking elsewhere. You look to see Neuvillette standing at the entrance of the dining area, gazing at you and Zhongli with surprise.

“Good morning, [Y/N], … Archon,” Neuvillette says, stepping farther into the room.

You smile at Neuvillette, waving at the Iudex. “Morning, Neuvillette! I’m surprised to see that you’re awake around this time of day.”

Neuvillette chuckles, pulling a seat out from beside you before sitting. “I could say the same thing for you, [Y/N]. You’re never up this early, but today is different. Why?” Neuvillette looks at you intently. 

A look of surprise flashes across your face before you smile at the Fontainian man. “Zhongli asked me to join him for breakfast, and here I am!”

Neuvillette hums, nodding. “I see. Now, did Deus Auri rouse you from your slumber for breakfast, or was this initially planned the day before?” Neuvillette interrogates.

You blink at Neuvillette and turn to look at Zhongli, who looks visibly annoyed with the Iudex. Zhongli gives Neuvillette a tight-lipped smile before sipping his tea, unanswering Neuvillette’s question. Without you knowing, Neuvillette shoots a subtle glare at Zhongli while Zhongli continues to drink his tea, ignoring the discreet yet heated glare thrown his way. You clear your throat before turning towards Neuvillette, only to see him brushing a stray hair away from his face. 

You can’t help but admire Neuvillette’s long hair. His hair looks so soft, and you kind of want to run your fingers through them. “I wonder what kind of hair products he uses. His hair looks so silky and healthy.”

“Oh, nothing special in particular. If you like to know what I use for my hair care routine, I can show you.” Neuvillette suggests. 

You stare at Neuvillette owlishly, mouth agape. “Did I say that out loud?”

Neuvillette smiles and takes a sip from his chalice while you’re sputtering and looking over at the Funeral Consultant with wide eyes. Should you reply to Neuvillette’s offer? But he has a hair care routine! Wait, if he has a hair care routine, is it possible that Neuvillette might have a skincare routine? Your hand starts to tremble— not out of fear, but excitement and a bit of anxiousness because you accidentally said your thoughts out loud.

Zhongli stares at Neuvillette before placing a hand over your trembling ones. “To answer your question, Monsieur Neuvillette, I invited [Y/N] to breakfast the day prior,” Zhongli says, grabbing Neuvillette’s attention. “Isn’t that right, dearest?”

You smile and nod. “That is correct! Zhongli invited me to breakfast yesterday afternoon! We walked around the abode, watched the sunrise, and here we are!” You gesture to the table happily. 

Neuvillette presses his lips in a thin line, nodding. The three of you continue to sit in silence in the dining room, listening to birds sing in the distance. The more you continue with the puzzle book, the more you become confused. You start to bounce your right leg, tapping the pencil against the booklet, staring at number fifty. 

“How the hell did I get into the Akademiya when I’m struggling with this damn puzzle?” You mumble to yourself.

“The answer is Fortress of Meropide,” Neuvillette says, his voice right next to your ear. 

You pause and look at Neuvillette, freezing, when you realize how close your faces are. You can’t help but notice Neuvillette briefly looking down at your lips before making eye contact with you. If your face wasn’t feeling hot already, then it is now. The longer you gaze into Neuvillette’s eyes, the more you realize how breathtaking he is. 

“You have long lashes.” You mutter.

Before Neuvillette can respond, Zhongli clears his throat loudly. Your eyes quickly dart to your puzzle book, breaking eye contact with the handsome and breathtaking Iudex of Fontaine. Fortress of Meropide, huh? You scribble down the answers, and lo and behold, the words fit into the small boxes perfectly. 

You press your lips into a thin line, looking at Neuvillette from the corner of your eyes. “Thank you for helping me,” you whisper.

Neuvillette hums softly, taking a sip of water from the chalice. “You’re welcome. If you need any other assistance, I am more than happy to help.” Neuvillette says.

The clock ticks away, and you find yourself in another comfortable silence. Only this time, the silence isn’t as comfortable as before. Is Zhongli sitting much closer to you than he was a few minutes ago? Neuvillette keeps glancing over your shoulders, watching you write the answers in the boxes. It’s almost like both men are glaring at each other when you're not looking (they are, but you’re trying your best to act like you didn’t notice the ever-growing tension between the two refined men).

The door to the abode suddenly bursts open, and Wriothesley and Childe enter, drenched in sweat and with a towel around their necks. Childe and Wriothesley stop at the entrance, looking at the three of you with surprise.

Childe points an accusing finger at you three, “Why are you two all up in my snookum’s space?” Childe marches over, huffing and puffing about Zhongli and Neuvillette's lacking manners when being around you— his precious snookums who can do no wrong in his eyes. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, chuckling while wiping the sweat from his forehead with the white towel around his neck.

“Geez, Childe, you can’t hog them to yourself,” Wriothesley mutters, watching the ginger-haired man snatch you up from your seat. 

You’re thrashing in Childe’s arms, swatting at him while muttering how sweaty he is. Childe ignores your protest and drapes his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into your hair. You shudder, feeling his sweaty skin stick to yours— almost melting and becoming your second skin. 

Your nose scrunches up with disgust when you catch a whiff of his sweat. “You’re sweaty and smelly. Go take a shower,” you order, patting his head— only to regret it immediately. 

Childe shakes his head, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “How can I shower in peace when I witnessed my snookums sandwiched between two men who aren’t me?” Childe looks up from your neck, glaring at Zhongli and Neuvillette, who, in return, glare back at him. 

You poke Childe’s forehead. “Can you let go of me? I have a puzzle to finish.”

Childe shakes his head. “I’m not letting go of you until you return my hug, snookums.”

Sometimes, you underestimate Childe’s stubbornness and clinginess. It’s not like you don’t want to hug him! You love his hugs! However, you have an issue with hugging people when you or that person is sweaty— you don’t know why, but you don’t like it and cannot tolerate the feeling of stickiness. You grumble under your breath and reluctantly wrap your arms around Childe’s waist, squeezing your eyes shut when you feel Childe’s sweat seep through his shirt. Childe sighs happily and peppers your face with kisses, making sure to make it loud enough for the others to hear the obnoxious smooching noises. 

“That’s enough, Childe,” Zhongli says sternly, glaring at Childe from where he’s sitting.

Neuvillette huffs, swishing the water in his chalice while muttering, “Have some decorum, Harbinger.”

Childe pauses what he’s doing and glances over at Zhongli and Neuvillette. The two men shoot daggers in Childe’s direction, and Childe can see the veins on their foreheads threatening to pop. With a shit-eating grin, Childe proceeds to do what he was doing earlier— suffocate you with his kisses in front of the very irritated Zhongli and Neuvillette and an amused Wriothesley.

Wriothesley shakes his head, snorting, “He’s just fucking with you two, and you two are letting him win.”

Zhongli and Neuvillette don’t respond afterward; they only continue to glare at Childe from the corners of their eyes. After some time, Childe finally releases you from his sweaty grasp, though not before placing one last sloppy kiss on your face. You give Childe a tight-lipped smile before debating whether you should take a shower or continue your puzzle book.

“Snookums~!” Childe whines, sniffling dramatically.

Wriothesley rolls his eyes with a snort. “You’re even clingier than [Y/N] claimed,” Wriothesley smirks, pushing himself away from the counter before sauntering to where you stand.

You look at Wriothesley, suddenly feeling on edge. Why is he suddenly approaching you with that smug grin on his face? Is he up to something? Wriothesley pushes Childe to the side, causing the ginger-haired man to stumble and glare at the Duke. 

Before Wriothesley can say anything, you hold up an index finger. “What are you up to?” you ask cautiously.

Wriothesley laughs, his laughter sending tingles down your spine. “I’m just testing something. Relax for me,” He murmurs. 

You audibly gulp, causing the man before you to let out an airy laugh, his canines shining under the dining room lights. Wriothesley, now standing three feet in front of you, gestures to you to step forward with his index and middle finger. You inch forward, feeling multiple eyes on the back of your head as you get closer to Wriothesley. 

Once you’re standing in front of Wriothesley, you look anywhere but his face, worrying the smug smile will send you to your knees. Noticing your lack of eye contact, Wriothesley gently grabs you by the chin, tilting your head up. Archons, is the dining room hot, or is it just you? Wriothesley gazes into your eyes, the corner of his lips quirking up. With his free hand, Wriothesley caresses your cheek before chuckling. “My, my. Your face is quite hot. Are you feeling alright, dollface?” 

“You’re up to something, I just know it,” You whisper, narrowing your eyes at him.

Wriothesley chuckles, leans down, and murmurs into your ears, “As I said earlier, I’m just testing something. Do you trust me?” His breath fans your ear and the side of your face, causing goosebumps to form on your body.

He’s up to something, and the alarms are going off in your head. You’re not worried about what Wriothesley is up to! What you’re worrying about is how Childe (and Neuvillette and Zhongli) are going to react to what Wriothesley is going to do. Wriothesley leans down toward your neck, catching a whiff of your lotion and body wash. “Hmm, you smell nice. Are you wearing the lotion I bought for you while I was away in Fontaine?” He pulls away and gazes at you with curiosity, his head tilting to the side.

You can’t help but melt under his gaze. You gulp again, nodding your head. Wriothesley nods and pulls away from you. Wriothesley strokes his chin, gazing at you intently. You can’t help but squirm under Wriothesley’s piercing stare. He suddenly places both beside your neck, tilting your head to the side.

“Good. It makes me happy to know you’re wearing something I got for you. I’ll get you more the next time I return to Fontaine for work,” Wriothesley nods.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly shake your head. “No, no! You don’t have to get me anything, Wriothesley! I insist!” You protest, placing your right hand over his left.

Zhongli clears his throat, grabbing your and Wriothesley’s attention. If Zhongli hadn’t been annoyed already, then he certainly is now. Wriothesley clears his throat before walking away— but not without kissing the side of your head. Zhongli sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering incoherent words to himself. You swallow the lump in your throat before sitting back down. 

Neuvillette hums, stroking his chin. “There is a rather compelling trial that is being held at the Opera Epiclese. Your thoughts and presence would be most welcome should you wish to observe the proceedings alongside me.”

Your eyes light up, and you gasp with excitement. “Ooh, I can!? I would love to join you, Neuvillette!” You squeal, clapping your hands.

It’s not like you’re excited to see someone get possibly executed— what you’re looking forward to is being able to witness how trails take place in Fontaine. Instead of witnessing the trial from behind your computer screen, you get to see it with your very own eyes! 

Zhongli clears his throat. “Dearest, I must remind you that you have some projects to turn in today at the Akademiya.”

Your eyes widen, and the pencil in your hand clatters on the table. Wait, what project!? You have projects to turn in at the Akademiya!? You rack through your brain, trying to recall if you really did have projects that need to be submitted. 

Neuvillette narrows his eyes at Zhongli, raising an eyebrow with skepticism. Zhongli ignores Neuvillette’s stare and proceeds to sip from his teacup. Right when you’re about to open your mouth to question Zhongli, Al Haitham enters the dining room, dressed and ready for the day. 

You sigh in relief, push yourself up from your seat, and stride to the Scribe. “Al Haitham! Can you help me jog my memory really quick?”

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course. What is it that you need me to assist you with?”

“I agreed to go watch today’s trial proceeding in Fontaine with Neuvillette, but Zhongli reminded me that I have a project to submit to the Akademiya today. My issue is that I cannot recall whether I do have a project to submit,” you explain, crossing your arms over your chest while tapping your foot on the ground impatiently. 

Al Haitham strokes his chin, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to recall any conversations he had with you regarding your upcoming deadlines with the Akademiya. Al Haitham nods wordlessly. You deflate and collapse to your knees, lying on the ground while sulking. 

“Eh? What happened to Windblume? They look heartbroken and defeated,” Venti says, strutting into the dining room while smoothing over the wrinkles on his shirt. “Was breakfast with blockhead disappointing?” Venti jokes, propping his hands on his hips.

You sigh and shake your head. You can’t be disappointed about the project submission preventing you from attending the Opera Epiclese with Neuvillette. Your project determines the fate of your future with the Akademiya, and you certainly cannot push the deadline back. Plus, you can’t be upset with Zhongli for reminding you of something so important. 

Venti extends his hands toward you; you grab his hands and stand up. You waddle over to the table and plop down between Zhongli and Neuvillette while sulking over missing the opportunity to witness a trial in person. 

You turn to Neuvillette, visibly disappointed, “Thank you for the invite, Neuvillette. I truly appreciate it, but I must decline your invitation due to pressing deadlines.”

Neuvillette’s gaze softens, reaching for your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You do not need to apologize, darling. There’s always a next time,” he smiles at you, “If you’d like, perhaps I can make some dinner reservations just for you and me.”

A hand slams down on the table, startling everyone in the room. If the others aren’t awake, they certainly are now. You look over where the commotion is from, only to see Childe huffing and puffing with a pout. Oh, Archons, you forgot Childe is still in the same room. 

“Snookums! How can you forget about me?” Childe whines.

You laugh nervously and rub the back of your neck with your unoccupied hand. You give Neuvillette and Zhongli a sympathetic look before getting ready to leave your seat to comfort Childe. Before you can stand up, Zhongli grabs your other hand and gently pushes you down, shaking his head.

“No need to console him, dearest,” Zhongli says, shooting a pointed look in Childe’s direction.

Childe puckers his lips and groans, turning around and stomping away. You sigh for the umpteenth time, resting your head on the table. Zhongli and Neuvillette both squeeze your hand to comfort you.

Since that day, things have been getting worse between the two men when you’re in the same room as the duo. Whenever you try to make time with Neuvillette, Zhongli would take that chance to tag along. Now, you’re not against Zhongli tagging along with you, but you’re sort of worried about his safety because of the look Neuvillette would throw in Zhongli’s direction. You’re not sure if the men aren’t aware that you can sense the tension between them, but if they do, they don’t seem to care about it. A week (or has it been two weeks?) passes by, and you’re eating dinner with the men in the dining room.

Usually, there isn’t assigned seating at the dining table since you want to be able to sit next to every person in the abode without leaving a single person out. But for some reason, not long after the men from Fontaine moved into the abode, Zhongli and Neuvillette decided that the empty seats beside you (anywhere you sit at the dining table, pretty much) were theirs to claim.

“But Onikabuto booboo bear! I want you to sit next to me this time!” Itto whines, laying the top half of his body on the table while giving you puppy dog eyes, his bottom lips jutting out before fake crying.

Neuvillette raises his eyebrows at Itto beside you, stroking his chin. “Onikabuto booboo bear? Is that supposed to be a nickname for [Y/N]?” Neuvillette murmurs.

Itto stops his act and looks at the Iudex with excitement, nodding rapidly. Itto quickly removes himself from the table before running over to your side of the table (which took a while because the table is quite long). Once he arrives at your side of the table where you, Zhongli, and Neuvillette are sitting, Itto pulls out an empty seat beside Neuvillette and plops down with a heavy sigh.

“In case you haven’t been, uh, informed about how things work around here…” Itto trails off, scratching his head as he tries to find the right words to say, “We,” he gestures to the men in the dining room, “have pet names for our sweet Onikabuto booboo bear.”

Itto places both hands on his hips; a smug smile graces his face. You snicker and shake your head. Zhongli wraps his arms around your waist and plants a kiss on your cheek, ignoring the looks Neuvillette and Childe are giving him. 

“Oh? Please do tell me more about this, Itto. I have been calling [Y/N] “darling,” are we supposed to have a unique nickname for them?” Neuvillette asks, tilting his head while looking at Itto with pure curiosity.

Itto blinks at the Iudex with wide eyes, “Uh…” he trails off, scratching the back of his head before looking over in your and Zhongli’s direction. “Not really. I guess it depends on preferences! I call them Onikabuto booboo bear because, well, I love Onikabutos almost as much as I love [Y/N]! As for the booboo bear part, I wanted it to be unique for them and only for them. Heh, I bet other people on Teyvat wouldn’t be able to come up with someone as interesting and unique as the nickname I give to my Onikabuto booboo bear!” 

You can’t help but melt at Itto’s response. You know that Itto loves his Onikabutos, and hearing his explanation of the nickname he gave you makes you feel so warm and soft inside. You pull away from Zhongli’s grasp, get up from your seat, and walk over to Itto. You wrap your arms around Itto’s shoulders and rest your left cheek on his head, stroking his hair.

“You’re too sweet, Itto. You’re going to make me cry,” you coo, reaching down to pinch his cheek.

Itto’s face turns bright red as he mumbles incoherent words. Noticing the look that Zhongli and Neuvillette shoot in his direction, an idea pops into his head. Itto wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles his face into your chest, making sure not to accidentally poke you with his horns.

Kaveh huffs, propping his head on his elbow. “Hey, Abyss Mage, how come you give them more attention than the rest of us?”

“They love me more, that’s why!” Itto shouts, sticking his tongue out at the miffed architect. Neuvillette lifts his hand to say something, but Itto quickly stands up and lifts you from the ground. “Ha! They’re mine now, losers!” 

“Wha— Itto!” You screech when Itto takes off with you in his arms.

How Itto runs away with you in his arms reminds you of a mother cat carrying her kitten, but in this case, it’s Itto carrying you. The men stand up, shouting at Itto and groaning as they watch the Oni sprint out of the dining room with you while laughing manically. 

Baizhu chuckles, rubbing his temples as he watches the other men leave their seats to chase after you and Itto while shouting profanities. “I’ll be getting the first aid kit, just in case something happens,” Baizhu says, getting up from his seat to go to the infirmary area of the abode. 

You should’ve known that Itto is a magnet for trouble, but while he’s running up the stairs with you in his arms, his feet slip, sending you two tumbling down the stairs. While Neuvillette’s tending to your injuries with Baizhu, Zhongli scolds the pouting Oni.

Neuvillette caresses your face in his hands, “Are you alright? You took a hard tumble down the stairs, and I’m worried about the possibility of you sustaining some injuries.”

“I mean, my arm does hurt, but—”

“Do you guys hear that?” Thoma asks.

Everyone in the room pauses, listening closely. There’s a soft pitter-patter sound coming from the roof. The sound isn’t loud, but it’s noticeable if you sit in a quiet room and listen closely. You continue to rub the arm you landed on, trying to decipher what’s making the pitter-patter noise.

“Is it raining?” Tighnari strokes his chin, heading towards the nearest window, while Aether runs toward the window. 

Scaramouche raises his eyebrows at Tighnari, crossing his arms over his chest. “Since when can it rain in the abode? Maybe you’re hearing things that aren’t correlated with the weather.”

Tighnari ignores Scaramouche’s comment and stands beside Aether in front of the window. Aether peeks from between the curtains before turning to everyone else in the room with wide eyes.

“It can rain in the abode?” Aether asks.

You furrow your eyebrows and get up from your spot, clutching your throbbing arm to your chest. Zhongli places a gentle hand on your shoulder, accompanying you to the window. 

Ayato hums, tapping his chin while watching the raindrops pelt the window. “I never knew that the abode can have such weather. It seems like the rain is getting heavy.”

“Now that I think about it, I believe that it has been a bit gloomier these past few weeks,” you murmur, staring at the dark gray skies from the comfort of the estate with the men who care about you.

The men look at Zhongli before looking over at Neuvillette, who ignores the others' burning holes in his head as he drinks his water elegantly. Zhongli lightly taps your shoulder to grab your attention. You look at Zhongli quizzically while he examines your injured arm with discontentment. 

A small smile appears on Zhongli’s face as he caresses your cheek with one hand. “Let’s get your injury checked. I’m sure Doctor Baizhu has yet to complete the examination.”

Lightning crackling across the sky and thunder filling the air startles everyone in the abode. The heavy rain seems to have gotten worse, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll get better any time soon. Aether clears his throat and gets between you and Zhongli with a polite yet awkward smile. “I’ll take [Y/N] to see Doctor Baizhu, Mister Zhongli.”

Before Zhongli can respond, Aether quickly whisks you away while avoiding the stares from Zhongli and Neuvillette. Baizhu and Aether rush you to another room while the men remain in the same spot, not moving a limb.

Dottore snorts, shaking his head, “Who knew these two men are childish.”

Neuvillette and Zhongli glare at Dottore. A tree branch knocks against the living room window as the rain pelts the roof and window. 

Note: Finally posted something after so long! 😭 The fanfic is most likely awful, but I kind of want to make a part two for it, but I'm not entirely sure if I should. Man, since this is posted, now I have to plan what else to post... aside from the HSR fanfics. I think I'll post a fanfic for HSR instead of Genshin this upcoming week, but I'm not entirely sure. I might change my mind, but who knows. Anywho! To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

I didn't initially plan on have a taglist for this fic, but since someone requested to be tagged in this fic, I will tag them! Taglist for this fic: @rubyninja1

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[reiding-writing]

Heyyyy, I think it would be soo cool if you could write a scenario where cold!reader actually works a case like idk but yk the typical talking w witnesses or family members.

I also would loveee to know what her interrogation style is like, morgen was always pretty aggressive and Hotch was always so straightforward etc. so I would love to know how she interrogates suspects.

Have a nice one, ly and ur work sm !! ^_^

THE REID TECHNIQUE. /spencer reid/

you volunteer to interview a middle-aged woman suspected of kidnapping a little girl.

cold!reader 4.2k series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | had this one in the works for a few weeks after learning about the reid technique in my forensic psych lecture ✊

The clock above the whiteboard marks every second with an unforgiving tick. It's been twelve hours since the child, eight years old, brown hair in braids, green jacket, was last seen.

You know too well how thin the margins are.

“Local PD has brought in a suspect. Margaret Ellery. Lives four streets over from the family. No hard evidence yet, just circumstantial.” Hotch discards his phone in his pocket.

You push off the table, the movement casual, but inside something sharp and certain slices through the haze. Margaret Ellery. The name means nothing to the others yet, just another possibility. To you, it burns.

“They've got CCTV placing her car near the park at the estimated time of abduction,” Emily says, flicking through images on her tablet. “No witnesses saw the actual snatch, but...” She hesitates. “It’s something,”

“Something," you echo, voice flat.

You can feel Spencer’s gaze flick towards you from his desk. You don’t look at him. If you do, he’ll see it—the thing coiling under your skin, the certainty you can’t explain.

You know it was her.

The others begin discussing who should lead the interview, voices overlapping—Emily suggesting herself, Morgan arguing the woman might respond better to a softer touch—and for a moment, you let them talk.

Then, calmly, you speak.

“I’ll do it.”

The words drop like stones into the room.

The conversation stalls. Morgan frowns, one eyebrow lifting. Hotch studies you, impassive. Spencer’s pencil stills in his hand.

You don’t volunteer for interrogations. Everyone knows it. You only step in when everything else has failed—the nuclear option. The last resort.

You have built your reputation on results, not likability. You dismantle people, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but the truth. It's not pretty. It's not kind. It's necessary.

But this time, without waiting for anyone to fail, you want it.

Hotch’s mouth tightens into a line. He doesn’t like it, but he also knows better than to argue when you make that face—the one you wear now, cold and still, like a weapon waiting to be drawn.

“Are you certain?” he asks.

You nod once. Precise. Final.

“She’s guilty,” you say. Not a question. Not a theory. A statement of fact.

“How do you know?” Emily asks, cautious.

You flick your gaze to her, then away again. You don't explain things like this. You never have. You just know.

Hotch’s brow furrows. “You’re sure?”

You nod once. Crisp. Certain.

“I can get her to talk.”

He hesitates. You don’t blame him. It’s not just that they’re worried about the woman cracking under your methods, it’s that they’re worried you will push too hard, dig too deep, and leave something broken beyond repair—something in her, something in yourself.

But there’s no time for cautious sensibilities. There’s a child missing. The longer they dither, the colder the trail gets.

Hotch considers for a beat longer, then relents with a sharp nod. “On your lead.”

Morgan shifts his weight, clearly cautious. “I’ll second,”

“No.”

Hotch exhales slowly, measuring you with a look that’s half reluctant approval, half silent warning. “You know the protocol.”

You incline your head with a sigh of exasperation. You know it backwards.

“I work better alone,” you say calmly, before he can open his mouth to suggest otherwise.

That’s non-negotiable. You’ve explained it a thousand times—too many cooks spoil the broth. Too many variables ruin the interrogation. One misplaced glance, one ill-timed question, one unspoken judgement radiating off a team member— it can destroy hours of work.

No one interrupts you when you’re working. No one even breathes too loudly.

Hotch nods once. Reluctant but resigned.

“Room Three,” he says. “She’s waiting.”

You turn sharply on your heel, the heels of your boots clicking lightly against the floor, and make your way down the corridor without looking back.

Behind you, the team watches you go in silence.

Spencer’s gaze lingers the longest.

He understands. Not completely—no one ever could—but enough.

Enough to know that once you step into that room, you’ll become something else. Something sharper. Harder. Merciless in your precision.

And God help the woman on the other side of the glass.

—

You pause outside the interrogation room, hand resting lightly on the door handle. Through the one-way glass, you see her: hunched, fidgeting, a picture of nervous innocence.

She’s shorter than you expected. Plumper. Her hands twist nervously at the hem of her cardigan.

She looks like someone’s kindly aunt. To the untrained eye, she might seem harmless. Sad, even.

You don’t let it fool you.

You close your eyes for a moment. Centre yourself.

This is not about rage. Rage clouds the senses. This is about control. Subtlety. Precision.

When you open your eyes again, you’re a blank slate.

The woman jumps slightly at your entrance. Good. She’s on edge already. You file the information away for later use.

You close the door with a soft click and cross to the chair opposite her, sitting down with a deliberate, unhurried grace. You say nothing for a long moment, simply studying her, letting the silence stretch taut between you.

She fidgets again, clearing her throat. Her eyes flicker up to meet yours and then away, unable to hold your gaze.

You watch her, utterly still.

Already, you can see the cracks beginning to form.

You offer a thin, perfunctory smile.

“Good afternoon,” you introduce yourself, voice low and even. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, alright?”

She licks her lips nervously. “I already told the others— I didn’t do anything,”

You tilt your head slightly. Not a challenge, not an agreement. Just an acknowledgement.

“Of course,” you say smoothly. “We’ll go over everything again. Just to be thorough.”

You slide a thin manilla file onto the table between you. The movement is calm, almost lazy.

In reality, every microexpression, every twitch of her fingers, every catch in her breath — you’re cataloguing all of it.

You see guilt. Not the guilt of a wrongfully accused woman, but the heavy, aching guilt of someone who knows precisely what they’ve done and is terrified of the consequences.

You suppress the flicker of satisfaction that rises in your chest.

This will be easier than you thought.

You fold your hands neatly on the table.

“Let’s begin.”

You watch her closely, noting the way her shoulders stiffen under your gaze. She’s nervous.

“I’d first like to briefly remind you that you don’t have to answer any question that you’re uncomfortable with, and you have the right to an attorney if you require one,” You keep your tone measured, almost conversational, as you begin. “This interview is being recorded, and can be submitted as evidence if needed in court,”

Margret’s response is nothing more than a brief nod, and you quickly move on.

“We’ve spoken to several people who know you, Margaret,” you say, glancing briefly at the file in front of you for show, though you don’t need to. You know the contents backwards already. “Your neighbours speak highly of you. Friendly. Involved. Always ready to lend a hand.”

She swallows, nodding a little. As if being agreeable will somehow absolve her.

You continue, letting the words come slowly, giving them weight.

“You knew the Hartleys quite well?”

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, hands twisting harder in the hem of her cardigan. “We… we live near each other, yes. I used to babysit for them sometimes, when Claire was first back at work,”

You incline your head, as if pleased by the admission. You knew that information already of course, but the fact that she’s supplying the truth to you early is a good sign.

“And you’ve stayed in touch since then?”

Her mouth twists slightly. “Not really. They… they got busy. New friends. Things change,”

You let the silence settle for a beat, as if considering that. Then you lean forward, just slightly, enough that the space between you shrinks.

“The thing is,” you say, voice still calm, almost gentle, “we have several witnesses who say they saw your car near Westwood Park yesterday afternoon.”

You watch her stiffen, the flicker of fear crossing her face before she can mask it. You press on, smooth and relentless.

“That’s the park where Elsie Hartley was last seen.”

Her mouth opens, then closes again. She shakes her head, a tight, jerky movement.

“I must have been passing through. I had errands— the shops—”

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “At four-thirty in the afternoon?”

She falters. You don’t need to press the point yet. Just plant the seed. Let it fester.

You sit back again, steepling your fingers lightly.

“We’re not here to attack you, Margaret,” you say, voice dropping slightly. Softer. Sympathetic. “We just want to understand what happened.”

Her eyes dart to the door briefly. You catch the movement, file it away. Already thinking of escape.

You won’t allow it.

“Things happen to people,” you continue, letting your voice thicken just slightly with understanding. “Painful things. Things that change how we see the world.”

You see the way she flinches, barely perceptible. A tiny tell, but enough.

Good. She’s listening now. Feeling now.

“Tell me about your daughter,” you say quietly.

Her face crumples before she can stop it, a raw flash of grief, there and gone.

She tries to cover it up, sitting up straighter, forcing a small, brittle smile.

“She… passed away. A long time ago.”

You nod slowly. “Nine years.”

Her hands clench into fists in her lap.

You lean in again, lowering your voice further.

“Grief can… distort things,” you murmur. “It can make you see injustice where there is none. It can make you desperate to fix something, to make up for what you lost.”

Her breathing has quickened. You see the pulse hammering at her throat.

“Sometimes,” you continue, “it makes people do things they never thought themselves capable of. Good people. Kind people. People who were simply… overwhelmed by sadness.”

She’s trembling now. Just slightly. You act as though you don’t notice.

“You saw Elsie playing in the park,” you say softly. “Maybe you thought her parents didn’t appreciate her enough. Maybe you thought you could give her the love your own daughter never got to fully experience.”

Tears are brimming in her eyes now, but she’s fighting them. Fighting herself.

She shakes her head weakly. “I didn’t— I wouldn’t—”

You don’t argue. You don’t contradict her.

You simply sit back, offering a small, understanding nod.

“Of course you didn’t mean for things to get so complicated. You just wanted to make things right.”

The denial is there, trembling on her lips, but you ignore it.

You pivot neatly, seamlessly, back to the facts.

“You said you were running errands,” you say, as if returning to a mundane detail. “Tell me about that. Which shops?”

She stares at you, panic flickering behind her eyes. She wasn't ready for the shift. That’s the point.

“I— I went to 7-Eleven. And then… the pharmacy. I had a prescription,”

You scribble something meaningless onto your pad, nodding slowly.

“The pharmacy?” you echo. “Do you have the receipt?”

She freezes.

“No,” she says after a moment. “I must have thrown it away,”

You don’t react. You just jot down another line.

“Which 7-Eleven?” you ask, tone still mild.

She blinks. “The one on Briar Lane,”

You hum thoughtfully, making another note. She’s lying. You know it. And she knows you know it.

You give her another moment to stew in her own fear before steering the conversation back.

“Funny thing, Margaret,” you say, lightly conversational, “we pulled CCTV from Briar Lane yesterday. The store, the pharmacy, the petrol station.”

You look up, meeting her eyes directly for the first time since you sat down.

“You’re not on any of it.”

The colour drains from her face.

You don’t press. Not yet. Let her feel the walls closing in. Let her suffocate on the inevitability of it.

She shifts in her seat, wringing her hands.

“I must have got the times wrong,” she mutters weakly.

“Of course,” you say smoothly. “It’s easy to get confused. Especially when you’re upset.”

She clings to the lifeline you’ve thrown her, nodding desperately.

“Yes. Yes, I was… distracted,”

You offer her a small, almost pitying smile.

“I understand, Margaret. Truly. No one’s here to judge you.”

Another beat of silence. You watch her, patient and unblinking.

“I can see how hard this is for you,” you say after a moment, voice softening again. “Reliving yesterday. Remembering what happened.”

Her mouth trembles. She presses her lips together tightly, like a child trying not to cry.

“I didn’t… I didn’t take her,” she says, almost whispering.

You nod thoughtfully, as if weighing her words.

“Of course,” you say again. Calm. Unthreatening.

Then, without warning, you steer the conversation right back to the beginning.

“Tell me again what you were doing between three and five yesterday afternoon.”

Her face crumples. She wasn’t ready for the cycle to start again.

But you are tireless. Patient. Merciless.

That’s the thing about interrogations — it’s not the dramatic threats or slammed fists on the table that break people. It’s the relentlessness. The subtle erosion of certainty, the slow dismantling of lies.

She tries again.

“I was at home, actually. I remembered— after the pharmacy I went home. I didn’t feel well.”

“Hmm,” you hum noncommittally. “Your neighbour said they saw your car leave around two, and you didn’t return until gone six.”

You tilt your head, watching her carefully.

“They must be mistaken,” she says quickly, too quickly.

You don’t argue. You just let the inconsistency hang there between you, a slow, toxic drip of doubt.

The denials come more frequently now, growing more desperate with each cycle.

“I wasn’t near the park.”

“I don’t even know where she disappeared from.”

“I just… I was having a bad day.”

You let each one slide past you without reaction, without resistance.

Each time she throws out a denial, you seamlessly redirect — not forcefully, not aggressively, but subtly, like water flowing around a stone.

Back to the CCTV.

Back to the witnesses.

Back to her tangled, faltering story.

You give her a moment to stew in her latest denial. Watch the way she clutches at the hem of her cardigan like it’s a lifeline. Her breathing is shallow now, you can almost hear it hitching every few seconds.

She’s trying to believe her own lies. Trying to build walls faster than you can knock them down.

You lean back slightly in your chair, as if relaxing, as if you have all the time in the world. Then you let your voice slip into a more analytical register.

“Let’s review what we know,” you say, tapping your pen lightly against the table.

The soft sound makes her flinch. Good.

“Your neighbour saw your car leave at two o’clock sharp. CCTV from Briar Lane shows you were not at the pharmacy or the store, as you claimed. In fact—” you pause, leafing slowly through the papers on your clipboard, letting the moment stretch, “—your car was picked up again. Not in Briar Lane. But parked a block from Westwood Park.”

You place a printed image on the table between you: the grainy still of a pale blue Volvo estate. Her car. The timestamp in the corner reads 4:14 p.m.

Margaret pales visibly, staring at it.

“That’s not me,” she whispers, voice breaking.

You arch a brow, slow and sceptical.

“Registration plates don’t lie.”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Her eyes are wild now, darting across the table, as if searching for some unseen escape hatch.

You press the advantage mercilessly, but with a surgeon’s precision.

“You told us you were at home,” you say calmly. “Yet your vehicle was a block away from the site of a child’s abduction.”

You let the words hang heavily in the air. They don’t need dressing up. They’re lethal enough.

“I just— I just parked for a bit. I wasn’t feeling well—”

You shake your head, slow and deliberate.

“No pharmacy visit. No store. No proof of you being anywhere else.”

You place another sheet on the table, another CCTV still, this time capturing her figure, blurred but unmistakeable, moving across the park entrance at 4:20 p.m.

“Witnesses place you in the vicinity. Cameras place you there. Your alibi doesn’t hold.”

Her lips tremble. You can see the walls crumbling now, piece by piece.

You don’t drive the knife in yet.

Instead, you shift your posture — lean forward, just slightly, closing the space between you by mere inches.

Subtle, calculated.

Not enough to threaten. Just enough to pull her attention inward, to focus it entirely on you.

You keep your gaze steady, non-threatening but utterly unwavering.

Your body language speaks louder than your words. I am your only way out of this.

Margaret's eyes flicker between your face and the photographs, her breath hitching audibly now.

You watch as the fight starts to bleed out of her.

Still, you’re careful. She’s fragile now. One wrong move and she’ll retreat into full panic, barricade herself behind the last reserves of her denial.

You soften your expression by degrees. Let the razor edge dull into something gentler. More… understanding.

Margaret sniffs loudly, wiping at her eyes with trembling fingers. Her composure is breaking apart under the sheer, relentless weight of the truth pressing down on her.

“I just—” she chokes. “I didn’t— I didn’t plan anything—”

You allow a small, almost imperceptible nod. Not agreement. Just… acceptance.

You lower your voice, pitch it softer.

“I know, Margaret,” you say quietly. “I believe you. You were overwhelmed. You weren’t thinking straight. You saw a little girl alone, vulnerable—”

“She was sitting by herself!” Margaret blurts suddenly, anguished. “Just swinging on those stupid swings— and no one— no one was watching—!”

The confession hangs there, raw and shaking.

You don’t react. Don’t let the triumph show. You simply soften further, offering a small, almost maternal tilt of your head.

“You wanted to keep her safe,” you murmur. “Like any mother would.”

Margaret’s face crumples. Tears spill over at last, fat and helpless.

You fold your hands neatly on the table. Stay calm. Stay steady. Be the lighthouse in her storm.

—

“She’s using phased psychological reinforcement,” Spencer says quietly, almost in awe. Like you’ve never quite been so alluring.

Emily glances at him. “In English, please?”

Spencer shifts slightly, tapping his fingers against the glass in a subtle rhythm.

“She’s employing the Reid Technique,” he explains. “It has nine stages that are worked through in order to achieve a state of psychological comfort that elicits more honesty from the suspect,”

“The Reid technique?” Emily raised an eyebrow.

“It’s uh, named after John Reid, he was a police officer in Chicago during the 1950s. It revolutionised formal interviewing, although it’s actually very difficult to implement in practice, because if the suspect catches on then they’re likely to shut down,”

He nods towards you, still composed, still relentless inside the room.

“She’s between stage four and stage five right now— Addressing why the suspect hasn’t confessed, and using mirroring tactics to keep the suspect engaged,”

Morgan hums low under his breath, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Sounds scientific,” he goads.

—

Margaret hiccups through her tears, twisting the sleeves of her cardigan into knots.

“I didn’t—” she whispers again.

You make no move to comfort her. You don’t offer tissues. You don't even shift your posture.

You simply remain present. Solid. Reassuring by your very stillness. In her shattered mind, you are the only constant left. Exactly where you want her.

You let the silence stretch just long enough for Margaret to drown in it, her sobs the only sound filling the sterile room.

Then, softly, so gently it’s almost a caress, you push the conversation where it needs to go.

“Margaret,” you say, voice low but firm, threading compassion through every syllable, “I’m not here to judge you.”

She drags her tear-reddened eyes up to meet yours, desperate and wide.

You offer the smallest of smiles. Not kind. Not cruel. Just human.

“You loved your daughter, right?”

Her face crumples. She gives a broken little nod, a whimper catching in her throat.

You lower your voice even further, until it's barely above a whisper. “And now there's this... ache. This emptiness. It’s unbearable, isn’t it?”

She presses her sleeve to her mouth, trying to smother another sob.

You let the moment hang there, let her sit in the shared understanding you’ve carefully, ruthlessly constructed.

“Were you trying to cause trouble, Margaret?” you ask, tilting your head ever so slightly, as if puzzled. “Or were you simply trying to give that little girl the love you never got to finish giving your daughter?”

It’s everything.

It’s everything she’s been trying to make sense of for the last twelve hours.

And you’ve handed it to her, neatly gift-wrapped, an explanation she can live with.

Her face crumples entirely.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she wails, folding in on herself. “I just— I just saw her— all alone— they weren’t even watching her! She was just sitting there, swinging by herself, and I thought—”

She breaks off, hiccupping on a sob.

You remain silent, giving her the space to pour it out.

“I thought— she deserves better. Someone who’d see her. Someone who’d love her properly. I could— I could do that. I could give her what she needed.”

Tears stream down her face now, unchecked.

“She’s happy with me,” Margaret insists desperately, as if trying to convince herself as much as you. “She’s smiling. She’s laughing. I’ve never— I’ve never seen her laugh like that. Not once when she was with them.”

You allow yourself a single, careful breath.

But you’re not finished yet.

You shift your tone again, turning almost maternal, gentle and firm.

“Margaret,” you say, leaning in just a fraction, letting her feel the sincerity. “I believe you care for her. I do.”

It’s not a lie. Margaret does care. In her own warped, desperate way. “But she’s scared. She misses her family. She needs to come home.”

Margaret sobs harder, hands shaking so badly she nearly knocks the water cup off the table.

“Help me bring her home safely, Margaret. Please.”

For a long, fragile moment, she just cries.

And then, brokenly, she nods.

“She’s—” she mumbles through the tears. “12A, Eversham Court… I made up the spare room for her, I got her toys and clothes—”

She’s rambling now, stumbling over herself to spill every detail she can think of.

You don’t interrupt.

Outside the room, you know Hotch will already be sending officers to the location, moving fast but discreetly.

Time still matters. Every second counts.

Everything has been recorded. Every word, every sob, every admission captured, preserved, incontrovertible.

You stand slowly, gathering the papers with smooth efficiency.

As you move towards the door, Margaret’s voice breaks behind you, small and shuddering.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” she says again, voice thick with tears. “Tell them that. Please. Tell them I just wanted to love her—”

You pause, hand on the doorframe, and glance back over your shoulder.

Your face gives away nothing.

“I’ll tell them,” you say simply.

It’s not a promise. Not really. But it’s enough.

The door opens with a quiet click. Uniformed officers step inside, moving with trained efficiency.

Margaret doesn’t fight. She’s too broken to resist. She sobs helplessly as they read her her rights, the words barely cutting through her cries of apology. “I’m sorry,” she gasps as they cuff her. “I’m so sorry—”

You watch silently for a moment as they lead her away.

She’s still crying. Still apologising to no one in particular.

You feel no satisfaction. No triumph. Just the faint, hollow weight of inevitability.

You step back into the corridor, letting the door swing shut behind you.

The others are waiting. Hotch nods once at you, brisk and approving. Emily looks grim but relieved. Morgan mutters something under his breath that sounds like "damn," but you don’t linger on it.

Your gaze flicks automatically to Spencer.

He’s watching you the way he always does after you work. Not with fear, not with pity, but with something quieter. Something sharper.

Admiration. And something almost akin to academic attraction.

“Seven minutes, twenty two seconds,”

You don’t smile. You don’t say a word. You simply walk past him, your boots clicking steadily down the hall.

New record.

[mrsbarnesblog]

I feel like when reader gets fed up with Rafe not making a move, she tries to go on a date with someone else and it makes him realize that he has to act if doesn’t want to be left with just “baby daddy” label. loved your story

masterlist ko-fi ao3

requests are open

summary: when you have a baby with your ex-friend with benefits, he realizes that he has to talk about your feelings if doesn't want to lose you (can be read as a standalone, but is part two of this fic)

word count: 1.1k.

warnings: ex fwb, baby daddy Rafe, he's really soft and cutesy (i can't help myself, sorry)

Raising a baby with you felt easy. It felt safe and stable because it seeming like you worked perfectly together, never having serious fights and always easily understanding each other. Rafe adored both of you and he was happier than he ever was, even if he was constantly tired from sleepless nights. 

Every time Rafe looked at you holding your daughter, smiling and particularly shining in your post-pregnancy bliss, he felt his heart flattering. You were his. The mother of his daughter, his friend, his family, his girl. 

Then, when you unexpectedly mentioned to him that someone had asked you out, things went south. 

You both hated every second of what was likely your first serious argument, but you were unable to contain your emotions when the situation deeply hurt both of you. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, Rafe! I don’t know what you expect from me when the only thing that I know for certain is that I am the mother of your child!” You screamed at him, blinking away your tears. 

“Don’t say that. You know what I want from you, and I can’t let you go out on dates with some random dudes, Y/N. Like, you have to be joking. We just had a baby, for fuck’s sake!” His hands flew to his hair as he started walking back and forth in the middle of his living room. 

“As far as I’m aware, I’m single, Rafe.” You said it bitterly, bringing your legs closer to your chest and wrapping your hands around them. You wanted to hide because it felt to heavy to be talking about it, especially when you never desired anything more than to be appreciated and loved by the man in front of you.

“So this means nothing to you?” 

“It was not what I said.”

“You said you’re single.” 

“Am I not?” You whispered. “You were horny and had a baby with me. Just admit it.” 

You were looking at each other with emotions and unsaid feelings on the tips of your tongues. It hurt you to say it; it hurt you to realize how easy it was to end everything here and face the reality that you were no one to each other. Tears flooded your vision and you looked down, defeated. 

“I’m sorry.” Rafe whispered back, as the panic started to settle in him. “I’m so so sorry, Y/N. It has never been my intention to make you feel this way, but I promise that you’re much more for me.” He came closer to you, kneeling in front of your shivering body. “Even if it was casual sex at that time, I would've never signed up for a baby with someone who I felt nothing for.” 

His hands reached for your legs, setting them down on the floor and instead moving closer to you. Rafe touched your face, making you look at him through wet eyelashes and you noticed a longing, almost pleading, look in his eyes. 

“I love you. I love you and our little girl, and I don’t want to live like this anymore. I want you. I need you because you’re my best girl—the prettiest, sexiest, most brilliant woman I’ve ever met. I was too dumb to not do it earlier, but I want to have it all with you. I want you both here all the time, with me. You are my family. ”

He left you completely speechless, making you sob harder and lean into his chest, leaving wet stains all over his shirt. You didn't know how you could live in denial for that long, but you realized how desperately you craved to hear these words. How desperately you tried to convince yourself to stick with what you had when the only thing you ever wanted was him.

“Sh-h, baby…” He soothed your hair, holding you closer and allowing you to let go of your emotions. Rafe hated how oblivious he was to your feeling this whole time. Seeing you break down hurt him more than he could imagine and he knew he would do anything to never see that look in your eyes again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, mama. I love you.”

“I l-love you t-too.” You hiccuped, leaning back and wiping your face. Rafe’s eyes stayed on yours when he slowly traced with his thumb your slightly swollen bottom lip and then moved closer. 

He kissed you slowly, passionately, gently biting your lip, as if he were claiming you again and you felt that familiar sparkle in your body that appeared whenever he was touching you so gently. You brought your hands to his shoulders to feel his body closer to yours and he obliged, slightly hovering over you.

Soft crying from the bassinet interrupted you, and before you could even begin to worry about your daughter, Rafe had already pulled away, but not before giving you that promising look and moving in her direction. 

“Hi, pretty girl.” He cooed, taking her in his arms and lifting her up in the air. She looked so tiny compared to him and you felt another wave of tears coming in. “Sh-h, it’s okay. Are you hungry or did you just want someone to hold you, hm?” Rafe placed her on the crock of his arm and started swaying from side to side. Her cries slowly calmed down, as she was looking up at him with big blue eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re so natural with her, i’m kind of jealous.” You laughed, wiping the leftovers of your tears. Rafe smiled back at you and sat down near you on the couch, wrapping his free hand around your shoulders to bring you closer. 

“Not as good as you. You’re an amazing mom. We love mommy so much, right, princess?” He tickled your daughter's belly and she giggled, looking between both of you happily. “I meant it when I said it, Y/N. I want you to move in. I want to have you both with me 24/7, because I cannot do it like this anymore.” Rafe almost begged, turning his head in your direction. Your eyes searched for his and the look that you saw there made your heart flutter. 

The thing about Rafe was that he was bad at expressing his feelings, but his eyes always showed you what you wanted to know. And now, when there was nothing but pure love and admiration, you knew that it was true. 

“Okay. I want it too.” You smiled, peacefully resting your head against Rafe’s shoulder, as the worry inside of you finally calmed down.

[81pastrys]

Hi!! I hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if you would consider doing something where Lando and reader had a baby when they were teens and no one knew but family so the baby would be around 8-10 now and the world somehow found out about it?

Reality

Summary— Lando made dumb decisions as a teenager and his ex decided her account should be public without archiving a certain post

Warnings— secret child ; Oscar cursing ; mention of murder, but no actual murder?

A/N— I like this one (let’s be real, I like all my work)

Dad Lando List

Lando had been pondering the day that his daughter would be revealed as his daughter to the public. Everyone always believed her to be a younger sister, nothing confirming nor denying the idea. Lexie always joined him in the paddock, usually going unnoticed. She was stealthy like that. He was a good co-parent, kept it a secret and tried not to make it obvious she was always with him.

This particular weekend was weird, Lexie’s mom had asked Lando to keep her for the weekend for a mysterious trip and he obliged but worried that she was making a mistake. “No, I’m not saying I can’t take her, but do you even know this guy?” He asked her over the phone.

“Lando, you aren’t my dad, there is no need for you to worry about me like this.” She explained to him. Yeah he wasn’t her dad, or boyfriend anymore but they have a 9 year old to worry about and she was crucial to that.

“It just seems strange, you never do this.” He said. She was on her way with Lexie already, a plane set for them to be off in Hungary. “Not to mention the rumors going around about Lexie.” He mumbled nearly.

“So do you want me to keep her?” She asked. “I can cancel the trip.” That is 100% not what he meant and she knew it.

“No, I’m taking her with me to the race, I already got her a pass.” He said serious now. “It’s whatever we can talk more later.” He shook his head, finishing up on packing his suitcase.

They go to the race with no troubles and Lexie does her thing, sitting on Lando’s side. The rumors going around were that she was, in fact, his daughter and not his sister like they had thought.

Only the closest drivers actually knew she was his, but most were oblivious to the fact. It only takes one fan to go deep diving on Instagram to find the picture his ex posted of them in the hospital with Lexie in their arms.

He scrolled through a bit of media before practice and nearly freaked out. “Lexie!” He called to her. She ran right up like she was in trouble. “Lay low today yeah?” He asked, kissing her head.

“Okay, as in hide out in your driver room?” She asked, she loved his driver room. Lando nodded at her for the great idea. “Got it, love you!” She said. Lando had trained her young not to call him dad in the paddock or garage.

He returned from practice and Oscar had now seen the picture that floated around. “Mate what is this? You had a kid and didn’t tell me?” Oscar joked around. Lando scratched his neck and Lexie emerged from the driver room, hugging Lando’s waist. Oscars eyes went wide.

“When I said I was a dumb teenager what did you think?” Lando smiled. Lexie playfully punched his arm. “I didn’t call you dumb! I called myself dumb!” He laughed.

“What’s Osc-uh talking about?” Lexie asked. Oscar showed her his phone and she looked up to Lando who looked down at her. “Does this mean I have to call you dad in public?” She asked.

“Holy shit!” Oscar cursed. He covered his mouth quickly. “Who else knows?” He asked. Carlos, Max, Daniel, Charles (because Max can’t keep his mouth shut)

“Hmm the entire world now.” Lando said. “I told her not to post that but that brings us back to dumb teenagers.” Lexie playfully hit him again and he knocked her head. “Stop doing that!” He laughed. They truly did act like siblings.

Carlos saw too and headed over to the paddock he once called home. “Hey Lex.” He greeted when she hugged him. “She made her account public?” Carlos asked.

“Yeah, mate she’s going off grid.” Lando sighed. “She went off with some dude to Italy?” It was like gossiping but they had voiced their thoughts on his ex already. “I don’t mind it means I get Lexie for a week.” He tickled her and she giggled.

“Stop it!!” She got out through giggles. Cameras were on them, the graphic usually just saying ‘Lexie Norris’ but this time the graphic had ‘Lando’s daughter’ under her name.

“You’re kidding.” Lando’s face dropped. “Man what the fuck.” He whispered as he smiled. Lexie calmed down and saw it too. They played the clip of him tickling her and she hugged him.

“I love you too dad!” She said. He about melted in his racing suit. Carlos smiled at the pair and so did Oscar. “Can you call mum and make sure that guy didn’t kill her?” She was half joking.

“Killing her is a bit absurd Lexie.” Lando said. “He took her to Italy, he might just drain her accounts or something.” He joked with his daughter.

“Call her anyway.” Carlos said now concerned Lexie was insinuating her mum could be dead somewhere in Italy. (She was not)

Lando called her and she was having a grand old time with the random man and he didn’t seem all too weird either so Lando didn’t have any worries anymore. They left the paddock that day as father and daughter.

I had a feeling she needed a different name, Lila wouldn’t be able to keep a big secret so Lexie enters the chat

@il0vereadingstuff

[mari-positas]

splash

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: You come home from your first day back out on patrol and find Joel giving your daughter a bath.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. GIRLDAD!JOEL. established relationship. this specific work does not mention reader’s age (other works in this series may mention she is younger than Joel), no physical description of reader, Rosemary comes with a slight physical description (she has Joel’s hair color/hair type and eye color, no mentions of her skin tone). brief mention of Sarah, brief mention of Joel being a single father pre outbreak, Joel and Ellie are fine because i said so and it’s what he deserves, okay? general fluff and a lot of cuteness, brief smutty themes, but nothing explicit. minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: short little thing, but this feels like the cutest thing i have written in a while. if you enjoy it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <33

Joel sighs to himself as he scrapes the remnants of Rosemary’s lunch into the bin of food scraps beside the kitchen counter—the neighbor’s chickens were in for a real treat tomorrow morning when he dropped them off on his way to patrol. He had just about coaxed his two and a half year old daughter into eating the crust of her jam sandwich when Ellie walked into the kitchen with a soccer ball tucked under her arm, a trade he was fairly certain she’d made more for the toddler’s sake than her own.

She was sixteen now, spent more time with her friends than she did with her family lately, but her soft spot for the little girl always, always brought her back home.

“Hey kid, look what I’ve got,” Ellie had grinned, holding the ball out for the child to see. “What do you say we go out back and kick this thing around? Sound like fun?”

He frowned, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Ellie, can’t you see I’m in the middle of feedin’ her—”

But it had been too late.

Rosie’s dark brown eyes widened, and she squealed in delight. “Down! Down!” she had exclaimed, whacking her teeny hands down on top of her wooden high chair on either side of her plate. “Daddy! Down, want down!”

Joel decided to put his foot down.

Well, he had tried to put his foot down, anyway.

“Not ‘til you’ve finished every last bite, babygirl. Y’gotta finish your sandwich and eat all your carrots, alright?”

“M’all done,” she’d insisted, placing both hands on her belly. Although Joel would have preferred she clean her plate, you had taught him to honor her fullness cues.

“We have to listen to Rosemary,” you’d told him. “If she says she’s full, then she’s full. The last thing we want to do is force her to keep eating when she’s not hungry, Joel. Her relationship with food starts with us, after all.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like that goddamn child rearin’ book,” he had teased you, earning himself a stern glare.

He liked to give you a hard time about it, but the truth of the matter was, that parenting book you found in the library turned out to be pretty helpful for both of you—while this wasn’t Joel’s first rodeo, the last time he had been around a child this young was over three decades ago. With Sarah, he’d flown through her childhood by the seat of his pants, went through a lot more trial and error scenarios than he liked to admit.

Often, Joel found himself feeling guilty. He tried to give some credit to the clueless young man in his twenties, the one who had been left to raise his baby girl all on his own when her mom couldn’t take it anymore after one year. Things turned out alright, but whenever he sees you with Rosemary, takes in the way you pour your entire heart into being a good mother to yours and his daughter, he can’t help but reminisce on his first life, on all those moments he felt so hopeless—all of those moments when he didn’t know what to do, and had no one to turn to for help. No one to lean on.

Oh how he wished Sarah could have known what it was like to have both of her parents at her side.

Like Rosie does.

Sighing, Joel places her plate in the sink, along with his own. He turns and glances at the clock on the wall—it’s half past noon, and he knows your early morning patrol group should be arriving back to the town’s main gates any minute now. Sure, caring for Rosemary had served as a decent distraction, but every so often, his anxieties would creep up on him. He worried about you being out there on the other side of the wall. And if you being out there wasn’t bad enough, you were out there without him.

“I’m back on the patrol roster next week,” you informed him one evening while the two of you were cleaning the kitchen after supper. You winced when he dropped the plate in his hands into the sink, the loud clanking noise bouncing off the walls. You wasted no time in pleading your case. “It’s been almost three years, Joel. I have to get back to pulling my weight around here. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stay home forever, and you know that as well as I do.”

Slowly, he’d spun around to face you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—he wasn’t happy. “Find another job,” he bit through his teeth. “Somethin’ in town. Somethin’ safe.”

“Joel—”

“You’re a mother now!” he hissed, angrily.

“And you’re a father,” you’d countered without missing a beat. Knowing Joel’s reaction was only coming from a place of concern, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, right over his racing heart in an effort to calm him. “Look, I’m just capable of getting myself home safely as you are, alright? And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be partnered with Tommy. He’ll have my back.”

He’d found very little consolation in that.

Joel sighs again and reaches for the faucet.

“Uh, Joel?” Ellie’s voice comes from behind him.

“What?” He turns around, his jaw dropping open when he sees her standing there, carefully holding Rosemary out towards him by her underarms. She’s covered from head to toe in mud. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“You know how it was raining for like three days?” Ellie shoots him a sheepish smile. “The ball went into a mud puddle, and well, she sorta went in after it.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s filthy!” Exasperated, Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Why weren’t you watchin’ her?”

“I was, but she was too fast! Kid’s a little speed demon, man. Aren’t ya, Rosie?”

Rosie giggles and kicks her dangling feet, mud dripping off her tiny, leather oxford shoes and onto the floor with an audible splatter.

“She’s gonna be home from patrol any minute now,” he says, shaking his head. “If she sees Rosie like this, she’ll have my ass, and yours.” Carefully, he takes Rosemary from Ellie’s hands, holding her out and away from him. He jerks his chin towards the dirty floor. “Clean up this mess while I take her upstairs and give her a bath. We might just be able to get away with this.”

She gives him a thumbs up. “You got it, old man.”

“C’mon, Rosie Posie. Let’s get you all washed up before mama gets home and puts all three of us in a timeout.”

She gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Okay, daddy.”

Groaning, you shove through the front door.

You had underestimated how difficult it would be to get back in the saddle of a horse after almost three years of not being in one.

It would take some getting used to—again.

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Your knees. Your thighs. Your lower back.

There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching.

After taking a minute to collect yourself, you push away from the door and toe off your old, brown leather boots, leaving them there near the entryway. You call out, “I’m home!”

“Oh hey!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie comes speeding down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of you with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “Just the person I wanted to see! Mind if I head over to Dina’s for a while?”

“How long is a while, El?”

“She invited me to stay for dinner.”

You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Again?”

Flushing, Ellie nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you ask Joel for permission?”

“Aw come on, man! Do I really have to ask Joel?” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I can hear him bitching at me already.” Dropping her voice several octaves, she starts to mimic him, accent and all. “Y’been spending every fuckin’ night over there. Don’t you forget you’ve got a family, kiddo.”

Amused, you chuckle and lightly nudge her shoulder. “I have to take his side on this one, Ellie. It would be nice for the four of us to have dinner together. You know, like we used to before Dina came into the picture?” 

“I’ll stay home for dinner for the rest of the week,” Ellie swears, clasping her hands together. “Please?”

Sighing in defeat, you step aside. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll hold you to your word though, alright?”

“Thank you!” she grins as she breezes past you and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Shrugging out of your jacket, you hang it up in the hall closet and then head upstairs. “Joel? Are you up here?” There’s no answer. You pass by Rosemary’s room first and peek inside only to find it empty. Furrowing a brow, you head a bit further down the hallway into yours and Joel’s bedroom. That’s when you hear his voice coming from the en suite bathroom.

There, you find him kneeling on the tile floor beside the tub, his back to you as he gives your daughter her bath. Hours ahead of her normal schedule, you realize.

Casually leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, and quietly watch them, your lips already curling into a smile.

“What’s this?” Joel asks her, holding up a yellow rubber duck. It’s almost comical how small it looks in the palm of his large hand.

“Duckie!” Rosemary answers, enthusiastically.

He nods. “S’right, honey. It’s a duckie. And what sound does a duckie make?”

Craning your neck, you catch a glimpse of her sweet little face as she stares at him, her expression a mingle of equal parts curiosity and confusion.

“C’mon now, babygirl,” Joel prompts her, handing her the toy. “Mama taught you this already, remember?”

She looks at the rubber duck and thinks, thinks, thinks. 

After a minute, Rosie gasps and shouts, “Quack!”

“S’right! Good job, Rosie,” he praises. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he presses a kiss into her damp, dark brown curls. “That’s my girl. You’re so smart.”

“Quack!” Giggling, Rosie lifts her chubby arms over her head, bringing them down into the water with all of her might, splashing Joel. She does it over and over again, soaking his face and the front of his denim shirt as she chants, “Quack, quack, quack!”

“Alright, alright, alright!” Joel laughs, shaking his head. He lifts an arm, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “S’enough, my little duck. Daddy already had his shower today.”

Grinning, you saunter up behind him, and with a bit of protest from your back, you bend over to kiss the top of his head. You say in jest, “Without me?”

“Mama!” Rosie cries happily, reaching for you.

“Hi baby, I missed you!” Leaning down further, you kiss her cheek, the soothing, calming scent of her lavender soap invading your senses. Drawing yourself back up to full height, you glance down at Joel with suspicion. “Is there any particular reason you’re giving her a bath so early today?”

You can tell he’s contemplating lying to you. That is, until your eyes flicker over to her muddy clothes, which lie in a heap next to the hamper.

He’d forgotten to get rid of the evidence.

“Joel? What happened to my child?”

“We, uh, we had a little problem earlier this afternoon,” Joel explains, his ears burning red. “She was out in the backyard playin' with Ellie and she got into one of the mud puddles.”

“Rosemary Miller!” you playfully scold her. Placing your hands on your hips, you ask,“Is that true, young lady? Did you get into a mud puddle?”

Rosie beams. “Yeah!”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and shake your head. “You silly girl.”

“Thought you’d be mad, darlin’,” Joel admits, peering up at you in relief.

“Joel, all that I ask when I leave her alone with you and Ellie is that I come home and she’s still in one piece,” you tease him.

Dipping his hand into the water, Joel splashes you, and of course, Rosemary decides to follow his lead and she does the same, bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Get her, Rosie, get her!” he encourages her. 

“Hey!” You jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet. “Cut it out! You’re getting water everywhere!”

About an hour later, once both Rosie and the bathroom floor are dry, Joel puts her down for her long overdue afternoon nap. He heads back into the bedroom where you’re digging in a drawer for a pair of clean leggings and a sweatshirt. He comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. He inhales deeply. 

“Ew, Joel, stop it! I’m all filthy,” you say, wiggling to get away from him. 

Joel holds you tighter. “Mm, I love it when you’re filthy, baby,” he smirks. “C’mon. She’s out for at least an hour. We’ve got some time to ourselves.”

“I’m so sore,” you whine. “From riding a horse all day.”

His lips find the shell of your ear and he whispers, “Too sore to ride me, darlin’?”

Biting back a tiny whimper, your head falls back onto his shoulder as wet heat pools between your thighs. He lightly nips at your pulse point, his teeth scraping your tender, delicate flesh.

“Jesus,” you breathe when he presses into you. You feel him against the small of your back—he’s already hard. “Can you at least let me bathe first?”

Joel hums. “I’ve got a better idea, baby.” Spinning you around, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt. “How’s about we save some water and shower together?”

“Thought you already had a shower today,” you remind him of what he’d said earlier.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and licks his lips. “I’m sure as hell up for another one.”

divider credit to @/saradika 🩵

[sparklystarrrr]

Hi! Can I ask the platonic Crewel and the reader (the reader is his daughter) where she tells him about the guy she likes? "Well... You know him well." "Is it Vil?" "Not really... You know him well, but in a bad way." "......" "It's Floyd." "WHAT?! Please tell me this is a joke.""

Stop this made me giggle SO hard

Father’s Standards

Synopsis: Crewel has a clear standard for his daughter’s love life….

Contains: Divius C. x Fem! Reader, platonic, Reader is crushing on Floyd, so fluffy oml I cried writing the end

When school was over, Crewel would swipe his daughter away and being her right home. He had a set schedule and that involved having a healthy snack after school. He knew school food was usually terrible and as much as he wanted to trust the kitchen ghosts, he was a firm believer that nothing else would be better than his own cooking for his child. “You will have the charcuterie board i prepared earlier as long as you can take the dogs out for a walk right after. Are we clear?” He spoke whilst he unlocked his home’s front door. Once no words left his daughter’s mouth he turned around, slightly annoyed.

“(y/n). Are you listening to me, young lady?”He spoke firmly. (y/n)’s eyes seemed to be very fixed on the image of her and a certain dopey eel boy on her lock screen. At the sound of her name her head snapped up and shut off her phone. A clearly flushed expression was on her face as she looked right up at her dad.”Huh? Y-yeah I heard you dad! Food then dog walking, got it.” (y/n) jumbled. Crewel sighed heavily.” You’re incredibly jumpy today, I cannot begin to fathom a reason why…”

His daughter laughed nervously,”Yeahhh uhm, I-I don’t really either! It’s nothing!” The man clearly knew something it wasn’t nothing. He did not teach his daughter to speak in such a jittery manner! He rolled his eyes and brushed it off. He knew she would tell him. 

(Y/n) sat stiffly in a plush chair at the kitchen counter. Her posture crunched as she pulled out her phone to text her friends, ignoring the snack in front of her. “Young lady, elbows off the table. Fix your posture. And what do you need to be texting your friends about right this moment?” He spoke. His eyes squinted to try and see what she could possibly be typing.

Upon seeing her father peeping at her phone, (y/n) slammed her phone down on the counter,”N-nothing dad!” Crewel sighed heavily,”(Y/n) it is obviously something, you can’t fool me.” He grumbled. The (h/c) haired girl glanced from her twiddling fingers to the food in front of her, then at her father, the wall and back at her fingers.

“I may… like someone. You know him… very well.” At that, Crewel’s ears perked. “Who is this boy? Vil Schoenheit?”

(Y/n)’s face lowered slightly. “You know him really well but… not in a good way.” She said in a whisper. Crewel furrowed his brow. “There are many young pups who cause a ruckus in my class, you’ll need to be specific.” 

(Y/n) shuddered. “It’s uhm… Floyd… Leech.” She said under her breath hoping it would be inaudible. When she looked up from her twiddling fingers her father audibly and dramatically gasped. A hand was on his chest as if in the most dramatic shock.”Excuse me? Say that again pup. My age may be getting to my ears already.”

The girl sighed “It’s Floyd Leech, dad. I like him.” She said with an embarrassed frown and flushed cheeks. “You have an… interesting type Pup.” He said while clearly in deep thought. The girl sat squirming in her chair while her father huffed,”I will accept this, just this once. Only because you’re my daughter.” The man reasoned while clearly holding back from saying things. (Y/n)’s (e/c) eyes glittered with hope,”Really?!-“ “Do not let this happen again. If he dares hurt you, you come straight to me pup. I do not trust that boy one bit-“ “Yes, dad yes, okay! I get it!” The girl huffed.

Crewel walked to the other side where (y/n) sat, still embarrassed. He brushed some of her hair aside and kissed her forehead leaving a small lipstick stain, “You’re growing up puppy. As much as I’d like to still have you as my little baby pup, I’m content to see you grow into a young woman,” He placed a hand on the back of her chair gently. “Even if your type is concerning.” He let a small chuckle leave his lips and watched (y/n)’s lips curl into a dazzling smile as she giggled. The girl wrapped her arms around around him tight as a silent thank you. Before the man could say something like “You’ll wrinkle my clothes”, he wrapped his arms loosely around her as well, pressing a small kiss on the top of her head.

[sl-vega]

SWEET N' SOUR ! - a scaramouche celebrity smau

-> PROLOGUE; all because I liked a boy

additional notes:

HI HI

i wanted to post this chapter yesterday but i'm SUPER sick right now so staring at a screen was basically a death sentence for me

so to make it up to you guys I wanted to make this chapter longer than I originally wanted it to be!

i was debating whether I wanted to release to prologue or the profiles first, but seeing as how scara's fg isn't relevant yet (and how y/n's entire gc was shown in the second teaser, I decided on uploading the prologue first!

and part of me also want you guys to guess some of the irl equivalents to some of the characters here!

aka half of them

only half of y/n friend group (including y/n mind you) are essentially au versions of another celebrity/semi famous person

so leave your guesses in my ask box/comments!

anyways LMAO other random notes

while this smau won't be an exact one to one of how the music industry works (ie me taking creative liberties with fontinalia being based off of broadway records even though it functions VERY differently from the source) I do like to include accurately depicted parts of it when I can!

when Beidou was talking about qixing showing an interest in y/n, the A&R team that she mentioned is a very real part of any record label!

A&R stands for artists and repertoire, and it's basically a fancy term for talent scouts who find new artists to sign to the label they work for!

anyways lmao this was a VERY long a/n, so thanks for reading all that if you did

as per usual, taglist is always open and please let me know if you want to have a cameo as a fan username (and thank you to all the people who let me use their's as fans in this chapter!)

also let me know if any of y'all are comfortable with being scara haters, venti can't keep doing the work for you

˚୨୧⋆｡ synopsis:  the bright lights of fame and fortune aren’t for everyone, and you’re starting to think you’re part of that majority. You just can’t seem to catch a break! Every movie you’re in goes straight to DVD, every album you drop just barely gets any streams. From child star to sub par popstar, it seems clear that the world has some kind of vendetta against you and you love to blame it on a certain rising musical sensation; Scaramouche. Thanks to your godforsaken luck you happened to go out with the wrong guy at the wrong time because he just so happened to be Scaramouche’s ex, next thing you know you wake up to truck loads of death threats, your record label dropping you, AND a whole album labelling you as the ‘other woman’! After what seemed like a never ending onslaught of straight bullying and harassment, you had long since retreated from the limelight, the only thing left from your music career being ever so occasional covers on YouTube that only your few close friends watched religiously. However, after writing a heartfelt original piece and uploading it from your humble bedroom, it goes viral! A single song has thrusted you head first into stardom once more, and face to face with the person you ruined it for you.

<- prev ll masterlist ll next ->

🍬 (open) taglist: @shrii-kk @freyao7 @analiee6 @thetwinkims @bellflower1257 @blvdmrcnry @bloukoup @yuan1819 @yourstrulymauki @fungaltoehehe @enrions @atlatcaheart @mywillt0live @myeomiz @adornavia @automaticpatroltragedy @scaraenthusiast1 @sesamemin @syunifu @blueberrybxba @fishii28 @a-sorrowful-tune @emvss @jiminscarmex @mwaiu @lloversss @d4y-dr3am3r @usagiarchive @idaissupercool @raytoebiter @lizzie-harper @anqelkoz @blue-moonies @lalalaloveallmydays @jinjjjia

[crossingthedreams]

humiliation — aemond targaryen x niece!reader

a/n: bro, for real, i can’t believe i’m posting day 10 - humiliation (@angstober) on the right day. seriously. i’m so fucking proud of myself! anyway, this can be read as a stand alone or a prequel to growing pains (aka day 08). and let me know what you think! 

masterlist

summary: we don’t choose our family, but we choose how we do politics. 

word count: 2k 

warnings: angst. slight sexual harassment. arranged marriage. implied targaryen incest (uncle/niece). aegon is an asshole.

It didn’t matter you were as much of a royal as they, as much of a Targaryen as they were. It didn’t matter if you rode a dragon and had silver hair. You were still the half-sister of Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey, and that was enough for the Greens to treat you like a jester in court. 

Queen Alicent was not blatantly hostile towards you, but she was not friendly either. You saw the way she side-eyed you, that her father looked you up and down. Whilst her quarrel was with your mother, the Hand’s mind was much more cunning. He saw you as a piece not yet allocated in his board. Fortunately for him, you were sent as a bona fide present to court after your mother relocated to Dragonstone.

Your grandsire, the King, barely looked at you. Of course, he was terribly ill. Still, you were certain he just didn’t like the reminder his daughter was wed to, and clearing bedding his brother. 

As a young woman of a certain age, you knew whenever someone did the math, it was clear your parents conceived you before they were properly wed. The timeline was confusing, and you were undoubtedly the child of Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, but were they or were they not wed at the time of your birth? Were you a bastard in technical terms?

To you, it didn’t matter at all. For some, well, that was a point of conversation constantly brought up. 

“Uncles and their nieces seem not to be bound by rules of wedlock, isn’t that right, Princess?”, a drunken Aegon moved his hand towards your leg at the dinner table. You slapped it away instantly, frowning towards him. 

His mother sighed, and his wife wasn’t paying attention.

“Prince Aegon, you ought to respect the Princess”, Otto Hightower said. You read between the lines. Her father will assassinate you. Your own father will disown you. 

Your gaze met Otto’s, and you nodded once, recognizing his attempts at decency. 

“Please, grandfather”, Aegon’s hand moved towards your face, and you deflected. He still managed to toy with a single lock of your hair. “She likes it”.

Once more, you removed his hand. Right now, silence was your finest ally. Enticing Aegon would only make him grow angry towards you or worse, take it out on sweet Helaena. How could Aegon be such an arse? His siblings sure weren’t as terrible.

Helaena was a good friend, and ever since giving birth she had grown even kinder, albeit a little weird. You and Daeron were closer in age, and he was ever courteous. 

And then there was Aemond. You had never seen a man so torn between the darkness and the light within themselves, except only, perhaps, for your own father. And when it came to your father, you only ever saw the good in him, and these horrible things he supposedly did were only stories. That wasn’t the case with Aemond.

You had seen him come and go from brothels, harm servants unnecessarily and even have you at the end of his insults. He could be a monster, prone to humiliating your brothers or even you yourself when he was threatened, and he seemed glad in causing chaos. 

But he was also loving. He would defend you from Aegon and others sometimes, even. He was the first to take you dancing, and he would be on the floor with you even past his feet hurt. He had taken it upon himself to make sure you became fluent in High Valyrian, a task your mother herself had given up on. After you first claimed a dragon, he flew many times with you, and all of the smallfolk made sure to watch when you took the skies together, as it was quite the sight. 

You were expecting him to defend you from Aegon right now, instead, he just quietly moved his food around his plate with his fork. 

“I often wish we could go back to Sunspear, Helaena”, you changed the subject. Your aunt, who seemed to be in a totally different world, looked at you alarmed. “Do you remember?”, you continued, stretching to see over Aegon and look directly into your aunt’s eyes. “The weather agreed with me much more than the rain”.

“Maybe we could see Daeron, too”, Helaena seemed excited for once. You didn’t have it in you to tell her Sunspear and Old Town were a far ride from each other.

“We should take the Cannibal and Dreamfyre and go”, you said, already smiling at the prospect. The smiles died when you mentioned your dragon, who seemed to be aggressive to all but you and, eventually, Vhagar.

“Oh, dear, I don’t think either of you should leave now”, Queen Alicent stated, voice sweet. 

“And why’s that, mother?”, it was Aemond’s turn to speak, for the first time during the whole supper. His head turned to look at his mother, who was in her usual seat besides the King’s seat, which lay empty. Viserys was much too ill and in too much pain. “Associating your daughter with the scandalous child of a scandalous mother is crossing a line?”.

The silence was deadly. 

You knew Aemond well enough to know the problem wasn’t with Helaena and you dreaming of Dorne.

Your eyes darted from Aemond to Alicent, and then to Otto. They all knew something they didn’t let out yet.

And every bone in your body told you — whatever it was they weren’t letting out, well, it was about you. 

Aemond stood up like a bolt and excused himself, marching angrily away. 

You had to find out what was going on, but leaving now would only bring more attention to both you and the matter, and it also meant dealing with an aggravated Aemond. Bad idea. 

After dinner, waiting until the dead of night and sneaking into your Uncle’s room to get the truth out of him? Sounds perfectly reasonable. 

Aemond was sitting, looking unbothered. You walked in from the secret passageway that connected most of the Red Keep, and he didn’t seem surprised at all. He looked like a true Targaryen Prince.

“Took you long enough”, he was examining his nails, and then his one lilac eye turned towards you. 

“I wasn’t aware we had an arrangement”. 

“Yet here you are”. 

You smiled softly, not showing any teeth. A conversation like this with Aemond could go in any direction, and, with your experience, you knew it was best to appear submissive.

“You have been informed your name is a constant in the Small Council, haven’t you, niece?”.

You raised your eyebrows, entering his chambers nonchalantly. With the King’s health deteriorating and talks of succession rising once more, you, the daughter of the heir apparent, were as valuable as gold. Of course you knew you were talked about often, and Aemond knew this as well. Therefore, you didn’t reply. He wanted to make a point, so he was going to make it. 

“There’s been talks about your future”, Aemond continued, leaning forward as you sat across from him in the room. “Matrimonial matters have been raised”.

You gasped. You tried not to, but you did. Your mother swore you would have a say in who your husband was. Surely she hadn’t delegated this matter to the Queen. Which meant you would be given as a shine prize to a nobleman, and he would consummate the marriage before your mother was even made aware of it. 

You felt sick. 

“Don’t worry. Aegon is not taking a second wife”, the smile could be heard in Aemond’s voice. You scoffed and turned to him.

“Is that all?”

“My grandfather wished to have you wed Daeron”. Your eyes widened. Certainly not a good match. Daeron was kind and sweet, but he lived distantly. You would not be sent to Old Town, there’d be no convincing you of that. “My mother opposed, of course”.

“How could the always just Queen Alicent have her child married to the child of the ‘scandalous’ princess Rhaenyra, right?”, you mocked and copied his words from dinner earlier. Aemond constantly looked angry, but now he looked just annoyed.

“There’s that, yes. Also, it’s not politically wise”, he continued. “Cregan Stark would be a better match, perhaps even a dornish man, since you seem so fond of those wildlings”. 

“Make your point, Uncle. Who am I to marry?”

“It hasn’t been decided”, he turned to you. “There’s a problem with your family, you see”.

“Our family”, you corrected. Whether he willed it or no, Aemond Targaryen was the younger brother of your mother, and he would have to live as such. 

Your uncle’s eye narrowed, then went back to normal. Sitting across from each other, you seemed almost the same height. His gaze went from your eyes to your neck, then chest, then covered legs, darting upwards to the ceiling quickly as he let his body fall even more on the sofa. He breathed deeply. “Yes, dear niece. Our family”.

“You should take me”, you said, without thinking. You thought too much, and a marriage between the Greens and the Blacks would be interesting for both, assuring both sides of the family were united. Wasn’t that the way your family did business? Marrying off their daughters? 

Out of this entire planet, Aemond was the only man you’d met that you’d be willing to marry. The rest were brutes, disgustingly aggressive or simply dumb.

From the look in his eyes, you knew Aemond was thinking about it. Your breath got caught in your throat. He surely had thought about it before, right? You were a beautiful girl, you knew this, and Aemond had a thing for women with silver hair. All men in King’s Landing wished they could have you, why would Aemond be any different? 

You kept forgetting that Aemond was, in fact, different. 

“I couldn’t wed you, niece”, he said, mouth a thin line. Your heart was racing in your chest. “What would we have? Not the throne, not even Dragonstone”. 

“Each other”, you replied harshly, fighting the tears in your eyes. “We’d have each other”.

“That’s not enough”.

The sheer humiliation that you felt was enough to make you stand up and motion towards the door. But you couldn’t leave through the front door, could you? Your reputation would be ruined forever.

So, with your heart simultaneously beating fast and not beating at all, you just stood there in the middle of Aemond’s chambers. You didn’t want to look back at him, but you had to turn to make your way out where you came.

You hadn’t heard Aemond, who quietly made his way to you, and was now towering above you. Your eyes locked, breaths mixing. If you were to stand on your tiptoes, your lips would almost reach his. Almost.

The problem with Aemond was this constant streak of ‘almosts’. You were sure his reasons for not marrying you were political more than anything else, and it pained you to know that the legitimacy of your brothers was a matter even now, when yours wasn’t. Your mother and her decisions… It had humiliated you once more. 

Your heart was beating so loudly you feared he could hear it from this distance. Still close enough so you could feel his breath, Aemond muttered in Valyrian, even though you were alone “Ao issi naejot jikagon sir (You should go now)”.

Quietly, with feelings of humiliation and something else you couldn’t quite name, you stepped away as you did as your uncle commanded, and left. 

[faerievampling]

Miracle

Summary: Years after the defeat of the Netherbrain, Astarion and Tav discover they are pregnant.

link to ao3!

Part 2

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x Female Tav/Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: 18+. Mention of breeding. breast milk. pregnancy. Astarion being very horny for all these things. body worship. angst. changes in POV focus. brief mention of abortion.

A/N: I'm totally going to write more about these two. I need a pregnant adventuring Tav and protective Astarion.

You had been cleaning off your armor after a long day of running errands for Jaheira and the Harper’s when you notice Astarion’s eyes on you.

You could feel his stare, and as you turn to meet it, the look on his face is peculiar, somewhere between shock and amusement. 

“Darling?” You ask, stopping your task to fully soak in his expression. “Astarion -“

“It’s nothing, my love, nothing,” His voice is dismissive, waving his hand as he tries to push beyond whatever he has been thinking. 

You notice his ruby eyes don’t leave yours for the rest of the evening. You can’t help but feel as though your vampire is avoiding you. 

But you decide to give him his space: this was often the remedy for Astarion’s mood swings. 

***

Astarion couldn’t figure it out. 

You had rarely left his side for the past few years. When would you have had the time to steal away with another man? 

Astarion wondered who he was, what he looked like. 

He curses. Why hadn’t he ever picked up the scent of this mystery man? His smell would have been all over your body.

And Astarion knew his nose was working just fine: your change in smell had been the very first thing he picked up on. Astarion certainly thought it strange, but he chalked it up to a weird diet. The two of you had been running through the wastes of Rashemen, and you had eaten a questionable animal that one night. 

No, it wasn’t that, Astarion was certain. That little flutter of a quickening he had heard earlier couldn’t be denied. Even though you were just on the other side of the wall, Astarion could hear the gentle thrum of two heartbeats. 

He sighs, running his hands through his curls. He’s certain that you don’t know. You weren’t good at hiding things, and you rarely attempted to lie anyways because you are such a sweetheart that it didn’t make any sense at all for you to have bed with another man and cause Astarion pain like this.

Astarion knows he just needs to talk to you, but for the unlife of him, can't figure out where to even remotely begin. Pregnancy and childbirth was…he didn’t even want to think about it.

A child? He can’t even really fathom having one around.

Astarion sits up, having found the resolve to finally confront you, and finds you on the porch of Jaheria’s estate, your eyes mindlessly scanning the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion takes your image before interrupting whatever thought you were having: you were a vision, a rare beauty that Astarion was so lucky to find. 

He swears his heart flutters for you sometimes. “Do you like being back in the city?”

You nearly jump, startled by the question. 

“Sorry, darling,” Astarion murmurs in apology.

You smile, laughing a bit as you collect yourself. “I do. It’s nice to see it all back together. The rebuilding efforts took longer than expected,” 

Astarion fears you’re going to keep talking about the mundane when all he can focus on is the beat of that little heart and how round and plump your breasts look beneath that blouse.

Astarion swears you’ve never filled out before; not like that.

“You’re staring again,” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. Astarion can see the worry in your face. “Just tell me, Astarion.”

Astarion swallows. “Well,” Astarion stumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he tries to find his words. This hurt more than he thought it would. “You’re with child, Tav.”

***

You’re speechless. 

“I’d rather like to know who the father is.” Astarion’s eyes are round, wet, tears already lining them. He blinks them back quickly, trying to compose himself. He almost seemed surprised by his sudden lack of control of his handsome face.

“What?” You ask incredulously. 

“I’ve been trying to imagine him, to think about when you could have…” He stops himself, swallowing his upset before continuing to ramble: he keeps talking, stumbling while you’re still processing what he just said.

You interrupt him.“You’re saying that I’m pregnant?” 

“Yes.”

You’re silent for a while. You can feel Astarion’s nerves fraying at the seams, his emotions emanating through him, producing an aura that has encompassed you both. It made time feel slow.

“How do you know?” You ask a bit stupidly. You hardly had missed your monthly bleeding, only being a few days off, which was very normal for you.

“I can hear it. The heartbeat.” His voice is low, guarded. There is a thick moment of silence.

“Surely not,” You almost laugh. But Astarion’s face is still, eyes round and wide as he studies you. He looks devastated, and it makes your stomach drop.

You realize he’s being serious, asking you in earnest if you had been with another. You think you should say something. 

“You’ve been my only lover since the clearing, Astarion.” You want to reach out to him, but you think not. If Astarion had hackles, they would surely be raised. 

“So you’re going to chalk this up to some immaculate conception?” Astarion spats cruelly, his agitation getting the better of him as he flails his hands. “Instead of just telling me the truth?” 

You’re speechless again. You knew he wouldn’t lie about this, so you desperately try to accept the fact that you’re pregnant with Astarion’s child as he, the very man who has bred you, yells at you.

“Close your mouth, darling, you aren’t a fly trap.” Astarion quips, crossing his arms. 

The anger is rising inside you, his offense reaching a boiling point. Your fists clench, your eyes narrowing as you try to reason with him.

“Four weeks ago, we were in the Rashemen wilderness with only Minsc and Boo as our company,” Is all you can say. 

Astarion’s expression is locked in between confusion and betrayal. “Minsc has his charms.” 

You scoff. “You can’t be serious, Astarion.” Astarion’s gaze meets the floor. 

As you study your lover, your anger dissipates. You see how hurt he is, how unsure of himself he feels. He wasn’t likely to tell you that outright, but you knew.

You can’t place how you feel, anymore. You aren’t numb, per say, but there is a distinct lack of feeling within you. You hadn’t thought this a possibility. You didn’t know if you were happy or sad, or if you would even be up to the challenge.

You needed some time to think, to let this soak in. 

“You know, I just remembered that Shadowheart invited me over for tea the other day,” Your excuse is lame, but Astarion doesn’t stop you as you awkwardly walk down the steps, off to the crowded streets of the city. 

***

Astarion was a mess the whole time you were gone. He tried to keep himself busy by doing various things around Jaheira’s house, but he kept finding himself lost in thought, thinking about that little bundle of life inside of you.

He felt greatly relieved when you returned.

He waited for you in one of the spare bedrooms, the one you always shared when you two passed through Baldur's Gate. 

He was pretending to read when you came in, trying not to seem too eager to talk with you. He heard the continued thump of the little heart beat alongside your own. His anxiety is paramount, but he feels a wave of relief crash over him at the sound of the life inside of you.

Astarion tried to accept that you hadn’t slept with anyone else: you couldn’t have, it was literally impossible. And he knew you never would have, anyways. But, since you didn’t sleep with another man, that meant that he, Astarion Ancunin, impregnated you. 

“How was your date with Shadowheart?” Astarion asks, peeking over his book. You had begun to undress yourself, and Astarion couldn’t help but steal a glance. 

He noticed the sway of your breasts as you freed them; the tips of them being especially tight and a darker pink than usual. 

Gods. It was like you were purposefully wafting your scent right in his face. You were sweeter than usual, and Astarion felt a bit ashamed at his growing stiffness. 

Earlier, he had accused you of sleeping with another man, even though he very well knew you hadn’t. And now, he was ogling you, thinking about all the pregnant women he had seen in his long life: it hadn’t been very many. Pregnant women didn’t often frequent the flophouses late at night. 

But he imagined how your belly would swell, how your hips would round, and how your breasts would become even larger…the thought aroused Astarion, far more than he expected it to. He had to stop himself when he imagined your milk-filled breasts; another bodily fluid of yours that your vampire was desperate to taste.

“It was alright,” Your voice was shaky as you finally covered your breasts, to Astarion’s relief. He tried to ignore his swollen cock. “She confirmed. What you said.” 

Astarion places his book down, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, placing himself closer to you. He really doesn’t know what to do, or how he feels, but Astarion does know one thing: that he adores you, and he can’t handle the distance between the two of you. 

So, the vampire reaches out, desperate for your contact. Astarion feels much better when you take his hand, sitting next to him.

“I’m sorry for my accusation earlier. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around it all.” His tone is good humored, down to earth, as he wants to be sweet to you. You deserved it.

“It’s rare. Practically a miracle.” You say, but your face is absent of the smile that Astarion had expected from you.

Astarion didn’t really know how you felt about children. He assumed you didn’t want them because you chose to be with him, but he expected you to be a little bit happier than you looked. 

“There are remedies, you know. If we don’t want this.” You say, looking away from him as you do. 

“Well…it’s your body, Tav.” Astarion spoke gently, wanting to be careful with you, because you were always so careful with him. “I can’t tell you what to do with it.” 

Astarion imagined that if taking care of seven thousand vampire spawn in the Underdark was something the two of you had managed, then a child couldn’t be too difficult. (Many years from now would prove Astarion very wrong in thinking this).

“What If I keep it? Would you leave me?” You speak quietly, carefully, as if you were treading dangerous waters; asking questions you didn’t actually want to know the answer to.

Astarion doesn’t hesitate, desperately wanting to comfort you. “No,” Astarion squeezed your hand, grabbing the other as you faced each other. “I honestly can’t imagine a scenario where I would.” 

You smile a bit, and Astarion smiles back. “So, what do we do?” You ask tentatively. 

Astarion sighs, a hand going to caress your cheek, bringing you closer as he pulls you into a tender kiss. “We keep living, of course.”

Part 2!

Masterlist

[v3nomly]

— HOW THEY REACT TO SOMEONE HITTING ON YOU

• characters — Childe ; Zhongli ; Wanderer | Aventurine ; Welt ; Blade

• synopsis — An unsuspecting guy hits on you. it doesn’t take long for your partner to swoop in and shut it down.

• tags & warnings — Established relationship, jealousy, kissing.

• a/n — Hihi!! My requests are open so feel free to pop in. I write for a couple fandoms and I'm always looking for moots. Enjoy!!

Writing Catalog

— THOSE WHO FLAUNT ; CHILDE or AVENTURINE

Before you can even shut the guy down yourself, an arm snakes around your waist, pulling you away from the man trying to shoot his shot and into the arms of your lover. It wasn’t unusual for them to be overly affectionate in public, but something about their hold tells you this is more than a loving embrace, but an assertion of dominance. 

“Sorry, I took so long, Angel. Didn’t miss me too much, did you?” They ask, leaving no room for you to answer as their lips press against your own. The action spoke louder than any words could. You were his. 

The man across from you cleared his throat uncomfortably, causing your partner to pull away reluctantly. Their body relaxed against yours, exuding an air of nonchalance, “Did you need something?”

— THOSE WHO SEETHE ; WANDERER or BLADE

How could you be so oblivious? The man's desperate attempts at seduction were evident, yet you remained blissfully unaware. Conflicted feelings coursed through your lover’s veins. On one hand, there was something almost comical about the scene. If it were anyone else, your partner may have been able to laugh at the man’s pathetic nature. Yet, it was you, which only left them with the bitter taste of ire. How dare this man think he’s deserving of your attention?

Anger radiated from behind you, something you remained ignorant of. Your boyfriend leveled a glare at the man who seemed to be just as oblivious as yourself. Until their eyes met. The man stilled, words dying in his throat, face paling as he swallowed quickly, before excusing himself. You turn towards your partner with a look of confusion and they only shrug, their eyes filled with nothing but the gentle love reserved only for you. 

— THOSE WHO REDIRECT ; ZHONGLI or WELT

They weren’t the jealous type. Years of experience and wisdom had taught them certain things were better let go. Yet they couldn’t help the uncomfortable feeling that snaked up their spine, engulfing them in its vexatious nature. Networking was an important part of your job, something he had witnessed you do countless times before, but this man irked him to his core. 

Your lover’s hand comes to rest against the small of your back, grabbing your attention, and pulling your eyes away from the man you were conversing with. Covertly they take control of the conversation, steering it away from the man’s obnoxious attempts at wooing you, and into one that keeps your eyes on him. He can’t help the satisfaction that rises in his chest as the man deflates at the casual display of intimacy. Or the way pride flutters in his body when you smile at him. Your partner wasn’t the jealous type, but he could be. 

© 2024 v3nomly do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

[jedi-luca]

Avenger Lane: Chapter 17: Heartbeats

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention? 

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Warnings: Smut and, Reader has a Penis

Previous Chapter

Quinn watched as you walked downstairs with your last box in hand.

“I think that’s it… I took my things out of the garage. I’ll figure out how to move the shed. We’ll have to go to the tax office and fix our titles but that’s about it.”

“You can keep it there.” She nodded, biting the inside of her lip to keep herself from crying. Truthfully she’s been crying for weeks. She lost you for good, and though you may say it wasn’t because of another woman. She can’t help but feel that way. How could she not? For months you said she wasn’t anything but a friend, and maybe you were telling the truth, but at some point, you lied. Right? You had to have lied? Feelings don't just come out over a week. At least she feels that way. It doesn’t matter much now. You got your divorce. You packed up your things, and now you’re leaving for the woman next door. 

“Really?” 

“It’s not a big deal.” Quinn nods. 

“I guess I’ll see you at the custody hearing?”

She inhales blinking away a tear. “Yup.”

“Quinn, you know I’m not taking them away… Right?”

“I know you’re not.” She nods again looking down at your feet waiting a beat before changing the subject. “Y/N, we still need to talk about Beth.”

“I know.” You whisper, looking at her photo on the mantel.

“She’s still very upset. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she just locks herself in her room. Her grades are dropping  and she’s always starting arguments with me.” Quinn sniffled.

“I- I don’t know what to do with her she won’t even look my way.” You stuttered.

“Be her parent, Y/N.” Quinn glared.

“She won’t even give me the time of day. Don’t get me wrong I’ll keep trying you know I will, I just…” you sighed. “I’m at a loss here. I can only do so much she has to meet me halfway just a little. I won’t force her to do something she doesn’t want to do.”

“I get that I do, but she needs us right now. She’s hurt, angry, and confused. She doesn’t know how to navigate her feelings at all. We have to figure it out together. By doing that I’m going to request she stay with you every other week.”

“She’s the one that gets to choose.” You sigh.

“Not when I’m the one she chooses. It’s important that you are in both of their lives.”

“I didn’t think you would.” You say in surprise.

“As much of a hard time I gave you about the divorce I won’t about our children. They love you so very much, and it would kill them if I took them away from you. I don’t want them to resent me the way I resent my parents.”

You walked over pulling her in a hug. You felt the way your ex-wife tensed and slowly relaxed hugging you back before crying in your arms.

“Everything will be okay just one day at a time. We will work with Beth together, and when you’re ready you can work on things with Rachel.”

Quinn nodded, pulling back as she wiped her tears.

“I’ll see you soon, and I’ll get Beth from school today. Maybe take her to that arcade she likes and we can talk about everything.”

“Okay.” Quinn nodded.

“We are all going to get through this Quinn, I promise.”

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

You stood by the passenger side door of your truck as Beth got out of school.

You waved only to see her roll her eyes and walk past you with her friends. The only one who looked back concerned was Lila.

“Beth your-“ The Barton child began only for Beth to stop her.

“I know and I don’t care.” Beth huffed

You sighed as she kept walking.

“Mx. Y/L/N?” 

“Agatha, you can just call me Y/N.” You nod.

“I’ve been hearing Beth is starting to show signs that she’s struggling. Have you thought about maybe bringing her to my office for some one-on-one time?”

“I don’t think we’re there yet. I’m still trying.”

“Court for custody is tomorrow right?”

“Yes, I spoke with Quinn about it earlier she wants me to have equal time with the girls.”

“That’s good, I’m glad the two of you were able to work that out for the kids.” Agatha nodded.

“I was surprised but grateful.”

Agatha nodded watching as Beth looked back as she continued her trek with friends. “Just remember I’m here for her when you’re ready to bring her.” 

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

You step into your new home you share with Natasha setting the box aside as you watch her cooking dinner. You walk over holding her from behind as she stirs.

“This smells delicious.” You sigh in her neck.

“I figured I’d make your favorite since you’re all moved in.” She turned her head, capturing your lips.

“Hmm, my favorite is you.” You smirk letting your hands roam her freshly showered body.

“Baby.” She sighed, as you suckled on her sweet spot.

“Hmm.” You hum drying humping into her from behind feeling yourself growing in need.

“Malysh, dinner.” She smirks pushing back into you.

“My dinner is right here.” You say placing a firm hand on her pussy that is currently growing wet beneath her shorts. Natasha lets out a moan pushing into you further. “So I guess you better lie down on the table so I can eat, or bend over the counter. Whichever you prefer.” You smirk as she brings you into a sloppy kiss.

“Daddy, I’m so wet for you already.” 

“That’s good, princess 'cause I’m salivating.”

You quickly bent her over the counter. Rocking against her letting your staff have some relief. 

“Fuck baby you’re so hard.” She moans, rolling her body with yours.

You tug down her shorts and lift one of her legs on the edge of the counter before inhaling her scent.

“Fuck you’re making my mouth water.” You open her cheeks a bit more before eating her ass.

“Oh, my-“ she moans loudly, one hand gripping the counter and the other the cabinet. 

You let your fingers feel how slick she was before turning around beneath her, licking her pussy clean. You can’t help but crave the way she tastes. The way she quivers when your tongue runs up her slick folds right against her little bundle of nerves. She moans with every swipe of the tip of your tongue.

Natasha is slowly feeling the coil in her loins wanting to spring but she needs more.

“Oh God, daddy more, please! More!”

You smirk looking at how frustrated she is. “More?”

“More Daddy please!” She begs and that’s enough for you. You’ll have mercy on her needs.

You coat your fingers in her wetness before sliding them down her clit inside her sweet pussy.

“Ohh yes!” She groans and grinds down your fingers as your tongue goes back to her taste. Natasha whimpers scratching your scalp with her nails.

“You taste soooo good babe.” You mutter between her thighs. 

“I need you inside me.”

“I am inside you.” You smirk.

“You’re gonna make me say it aren’t you?” She glared pushing you away.

“Yup.”

“I need your cock daddy.”

You stand up behind her and rub yourself against her before pushing inside.

“Y/N!” She moans, turning to bring your lips against hers.

“You always feel so good, baby.” You gripped her ass roughly as you continued your thrusts.

“You’re so thick and long.” She whimpered.

“And you take me perfectly every time.” You say feeling yourself ready to unleash your load.

“Oh my-! Faster!” She groaned and you obliged.

“I’m about to cum baby, where do you want it?”

“Inside of me.” She husked bringing you in a kiss.

You felt her pussy constricting around you when you thrust inside of her one final time before cuming deep inside of her.

“Fuck.” You sigh against her shoulder as she arches into you letting her continue her waves of pleasure.

You both kissed softly as you felt your cum rolling down your shaft. You both whimper as you pull out slowly and gather your cum on the tip of your cock before pushing back inside of her.

She hummed as you massaged her back.

“Why is it that we have made love so many times, and once is still not enough? I could go on for as long as you’d let me.” You smirked against her cheek.

“I hope you always feel that way about me.” She whispered with a hint of a smirk.

“I know I will.” You replied. “You’re my soulmate, Natasha.”

She smiled, kissing your lips. “As you are mine. Now as much as we wanna keep going, I worked hard on this dinner so how about you let me feed you?”

You pull out slowly and she picks up her shorts and panties before heading to the restroom.

“Clean the counter and wash your hands!” She shouts from the restroom.

You smirk bending over to grab the cleaner and paper towel before smelling your fingers. “Fuck that’s good.” You chuckle, sucking on them once more before doing as you were told.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

You watched afar as your fiancé finished up her nightly routine. You can’t help but notice how some of your favorite parts of hers have grown. Her breasts and bottom have grown a bit thicker. She actually has a small hint of a tummy now and you can’t help but bite your lip at how sexy she looks. You remember that’s what happened with Quinn when she got- Neh that can’t be it. You shake the thought out of your mind.

“You okay?” Natasha asks as she walks back into your shared bedroom.

You nod, giving her a tired smile. She lays next to you, turning you by the chin.

“What’s wrong?”

“Quinn, wants me to try harder with Beth.” 

“She’s right.”

“I just don’t know how… I feel like every time I try she ignores me. Earlier today I went to pick her up from school, and she just walked past me. Her grades are struggling, and she’s giving Quinn a hard time. Agatha wants me to let her have a session with Beth.”

“Maybe that’s the best thing for her?”

You shake your head. “That means I’ve failed as a parent. I just need some more time.”

“You haven’t failed. That’s not what that means, but if you want more time to try and mend it yourself then okay.”

“I love you. I’ll fix this, I promise.” You say bringing her against you cuddling into her. 

“It’s just going to take some time.” Natasha reminds you.

You kissed her chest letting your fingers graze her thighs. Natasha brushes your hair back.

“Sometimes this doesn’t feel real.” She chuckles with a shake of her head.

“What doesn’t?” You stop your motions looking down at her.

“That we’re finally here together. You moved in with me,  and now we’re going to plan a wedding soon. It almost feels like a fairytale. Almost. It probably would be if you hadn’t been married, or I could have had children.” She sighs.

You kiss her nose not knowing what to say to that. You were married and you know how much it kills her to not be able to carry her own child.

“Did you tell Quinn?”

You cringed and shook your head.

“Y/N.” Natasha sighed, pushing you off of her.

“It’s too soon, but I will tell her.

“I don't know what I’m more upset about. You taking off your ring or not telling her.”  Natasha sighed sadly. 

“Nat, I will tell her. I just thought if I told her earlier she’d explode so I decided to wait.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

“I’m sorry, I took off my ring for her. I’ll tell her soon I promise.”

Natasha nodded stiffly.

“One good thing though! She wants us to have the girls every other week. She said she won’t let Beth choose one place. Which hopefully will help.”

“We have to finish fixing up their rooms.” Natasha mentioned.

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m off anyway for the hearing. We can go to the store after?”

“Okay.” Natasha nodded.

“We still get to plan our wedding.” You grin. “Have you given it any thought?”

Natasha beams, unable to contain her excitement she jumps up. “Wait here!”

You chuckle sitting when she runs back in bed carrying a large binder. ”Whoa!” You raise your brows seeing a picture of you proposing on the cover.

“I have ideas!”

“That’s great baby. Show me.” You grin as she cuddles against you opening the binder.

“So, I always wanted an outdoor wedding. Preferably Spring or Fall. It has the perfect temperatures. Plus the trees and flowers are beautiful.”

“That sounds perfect.” You grin seeing a picture of what you suspect is the wedding from Twilight. “Are you walking down the aisle to Flightless Bird or A Thousand Years?”

“Don’t make fun of me.” She frowned, biting your arm.

“Ahhh, I wasn’t! You vampire.” You laugh.

“I was actually thinking maybe Can’t Help Falling In Love but the Kina cover.”

“She does a great cover.” You nod.

“Do you have one?” She asks, creating a wedding playlist and sharing it with you on her phone.

“Uhh yeah actually.” You reach over on the nightstand for your phone before quickly adding the song to the playlist. 

“Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez. I don’t think I’ve heard of this.” Natasha smiled while playing.

“It’s a cover as well.” You add as you hear those familiar strums. “He’s one of my favorite artists.”

“It’s beautiful.” She whispers.

“The original is great too but it’s more fast-paced. What other songs were on your mind?”

“First Day of My Life.” She smiles, kissing your cheek as it plays.

“Ooo such a great song.”

She flips the page showing you the colors she was thinking of having. “You could be my something blue.” She smiled pointing at the blue tux.

“I love it!” You grinned. 

“Yeah?” She smiled.

“Nat, I want you to have the wedding of your dreams. Anything you want, I will make it happen.”

“I don’t think you should give me that much power.” The Russian woman smirks.

“You have all the power, Princess.” You say softly near her ear. Natasha shivers before bringing you in a kiss. “Now what about the honeymoon?” You smirk.

“I’m thinking somewhere private and very tropical. Bikinis or maybe no bikinis.”

“Sexy.”

“Maybe Bali?”

“Beautiful.”

“Belize, Costa Rica, or maybe Seychelles?”

“Any of them as long as we have endless sex, sunbathe with nonstop drinks, and great food.”

Natasha giggles, kissing you once more. “Yes to all of those ideas.” 

You attempted to flip the page but Natasha stopped your hand. 

“Those pages are dress ideas.” She smirked, gathering the pages by her fingernail and turning them as one.

“Ooooh food!” You grinned letting your eyes pour over the steak and chicken options. “Oh man, I love steak! Oooh is that a fajita plate? I love tacos!”

“Yeah, I even found an option for a pizza theme and a Sunday bar.”

“A Sunday bar?!” You gasped.

“Hmhm.” She hummed happily.

“Is that a chicken fried steak?” You grinned looking up.

“Yeah, I found one place that does more of a family-style dinner.”

“Fuck, I’m hungry now…” you look up at your fiancé.

“Baby, we just had dinner.”

“Yeahhh I know.” You sighed.

Natasha turned opening her nightstand handing you some mini chocolate bars.

“Ooooh!” You ripped into it taking a bite before offering the other half to your girl.

“Thanks, baby.” She took the last bite as you turned the page.

“Oooh flowers.”

Natasha yawned.

“Here we can look again tomorrow, let's get some sleep.” You smiled, shutting the binder and placing it on your nightstand. 

You both lay down intertwining your legs and facing one another.

“I love you Detka and I can’t wait to marry you.” Natasha kissed your cheek and stroked your hair.

“I love you too darling.”

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

You were awoken in the early morning hours to Natasha jumping out of bed and running to the toilet.

You quickly lifted the sheets off running to your fiancé.

“No Y/N it’s so gross!“ Natasha groaned before throwing up into the bowl.

You held Natasha’s hair back as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

She groaned, leaning against the tub as you grabbed a small hand towel. She watched as you ringed out the water, placing it on her forehead.

“I’ll be right back.”

You rushed downstairs grabbing a cup of water, ginger ale, and some saltines before running back upstairs. You set it on the dresser before opening it and grabbing a fresh set of clothes.

If she weren’t feeling like absolute garbage she’d comment on how sweet and doting you are with her. You had helped her change into a fresh set of clothes and even got her toothbrush and mouthwash ready.

“Nat, are you sure you can’t get pregnant?” You found yourself asking as you wiped the sweat from her forehead.

“Yes… well. That’s what the doctor said.”

“It’s just that Quinn went through this twice. I know morning sickness when I see it. Also, that woman from our trip said she could tell you were pregnant, and I’m not being mean baby, but your moods have been swinging lately. Again not being mean but your body is-

“My body is what?” Natasha quirked her brow. “Tread lightly Y/L/N.

“You’re slightly thicker in a great way if I may add. I just would feel better if we got you checked out.” 

Natasha smiled at your concern and agreed. She knew in her heart she wasn’t pregnant, but if you were this worried about her. Then she’d do it just to ease your worries. Even when the eventual negative test hurts her heart.

“Okay.” She nodded.

“I’ll see if they have an opening after the hearing.”

“Babe?” Natasha kinked her brow with an amused smile on her face.

“Huh?”

“I can call my gyno.” She chuckled.

“Right.” You nodded, hitting your head.

“Get ready for court and I’ll call.” She smiled.

You leaned in to peck her lips only for her to turn her head.

“Wha-“

“Y/N, I just puked my guts out.” She glared.

“You brushed your teeth and had mouthwash.”

“Hnhn.” She shook her head negatively.

You chuckled and pecked her temple instead.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“You both agree to equal custody of the children?”

“Yes.” You and Quinn spoke in unison.

Soon you were both signing an agreement and walking out of the courthouse.

“That was easier than I thought it would be.” You sighed.

Quinn nodded quietly.

“Quinn?”

The blonde looked up holding back her tears. 

“Thank you for not fighting me on this.”

“I couldn’t do that to you.” She replied.

You nodded looking down at the court documents.

“It’s all real now.” She said softly looking down at your ring-less finger.

“It’s better this way. You and I lost our way years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as your eyes softened. “I’m sorry, I hurt you. I’m sorry I took your career away.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“For what? I’m the one who ruined us.” She scoffed, wiping her tears.

“I fell for Natasha while being married to you. Even after all our fighting I still feel guilty for being with her while we were married. Separated but still.” You say.

“Can I ask you something?” Quinn’s eyes were a soft hazel.

“Of course.”

“When did you start falling for her?” 

“Well, I know, I was attracted to her on my birthday and it just grew into love.”

Quinn nodded, she knew it would hurt to ask but she couldn’t help herself.

“I’m sorry.” You cringed.

“Don’t be.” The blonde shook her head.

Quinn hugs you and you hug her. 

“I’m gonna go pick up, Fin, and have lunch with my sister,” Quinn said.

“I’m gonna go get things for their rooms.” You reply.

“You know they can bring some stuff from home too.”

“Yeah, but it sounds bad to have them lug things back and forth.”

She nodded, crossing her arms.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” She agrees.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Hey, baby.” You smile as Natasha hops in the truck.

“Hi.” She smiles leaning in to kiss you only for you to lean back.

“Eh, I don’t know, you threw up earlier.” You joked.

Natasha slapped your shoulder. 

“Kidding.” You chuckled.

“Kiss your fiancé hello.”

“My pregnant fiancé.” You grinned, kissing her softly.

“Y/N, don’t get your hopes up please.” She says softly, buckling in.

“I don’t know, Nat, the signs don’t lie. Plus, I didn’t tell you this but I had a dream. It just seemed too real.” 

“What did you dream about?” She asks as you start driving.

“Well before you got sick this morning I dreamt I was holding our son in my arms. He had your eyes.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You grinned.

Natasha bit her lip looking out the window. She was so afraid you would not want to be with her when the negative test inevitably appeared.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

You both hardly had to wait long. Soon Natasha was on the bed feet in the stirrups with lubricant being rubbed on her belly.

It wasn’t until a heartbeat echoed in the room.

“Looks like you’re in your first trimester. Everything is normal for 9 weeks.”

“Wait… did you say- Is that a baby?“ Natasha sputtered.

“You’re 9 weeks pregnant.” The doctor smiled widely. 

You both looked at one another. It had been 9 weeks since the first time you had sex. You knocked her up on the first try. You wanted some time with her before you even thought about kids. To be honest, you have 2 girls and you always wanted more, but you wanted just some time with Natasha to yourself.

You briefly remember a vasectomy pamphlet Santana snuck in one of your stockings for Christmas one year.

“Congratulations Mrs and Mx. Y/L/N. You’re going to be parents in about 7-8 months. Just start taking prenatal vitamins. I’ll have a few copies of the ultrasound made for you, and schedule you this time next month in 3 weeks; for a checkup.”

“Wait, I have so many questions!” Natasha huffed.

Her doctor chuckled and nodded. “Of course go on.”

“First off how?! I tried years ago through insemination. They told me after testing that my eggs and my uterus just weren’t fertile. Second, I have been drinking. Not a lot, but I have. How bad will that affect our baby?”

“Well for the first question, there’s a small chance the tests could have been inconclusive, swapped, or maybe you weren’t fertile at the time due to stress. There’s a multitude of reasons that could have happened. As for your second question, it happens more than you think as long as you stop now, and begin your vitamins. Your baby should be just fine. Any more questions?”

“No, that’s all, thank you.” Natasha shook her head.

“Well if you do feel free to send me a message through the medical app, and I will get back to you right away. Have a great day and congratulations to you both again.” With that the doctor left you and Natasha alone together.

“Wow.” You said looking at the video image of your baby. 

“I’m pregnant.” Natasha smiled, feeling tears prick her eyes. Her hands cupped her stomach.

“You’re pregnant.” You chuckled, covering her hand with yours.

“We’re having a baby Y/N.” Natasha whispered a beautiful smile on her face.

You both let out a soft chuckle thinking of a future with a baby in your life.

You both blatantly ignore the fact that you both only got together 9 weeks ago, and you were very much still married at the time.

“You owe that woman from our trip an apology.”

Natasha laughed as you both walked out hand in hand. Soon you were helping her in the truck. 

“I’m only 9 weeks pregnant,” Natasha smirked, biting her lip as you retracted your hand to help her in.

“Right.” You chuckled, backing off, you distinctly remember Quinn slapping your arm every time you tried to help her in the car.

“It’s okay детка.” She chuckled, bringing you back down. She kissed your lips softly. “You’re just taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you and our kids.” You whispered against her plump lips.

“Hmm, thank you malysh.”

“Come on Mommy, let's get your vitamins and check out the new baby fads.” You smirked before closing the door.

“Mommy.” Natasha whispered a ghost of a smile appearing as she touched her stomach. Everything was finally happening for her all at once. She has her soulmate, you’re both engaged and now she’s pregnant. Something she always wanted but never thought she’d get.

You were both at the local pharmacy picking up the vitamins when you walked into an infant store a few doors down.

“детка look at this!” Natasha gasped, lifting a tiny onesie that said ‘Gingersnap Fresh Out The Oven’. You were desperately hoping your baby would come out looking like Natasha.

“That’s perfect.” You chuckled subtly, taking one of the onesies and setting it near the cashier with a wink. You walked away to keep looking.

“Whoa, this has gotta be the Cadillac of pumps!” You chuckled while lifting the product. “It’s a wireless breast pump!”

“Makes pumping so much easier!” The woman at the cash register gushed. “I haven’t seen you two in here before. I’m going to assume you’re expecting. If you haven’t done your baby shower yet we do have a registry so whenever you’re about ready maybe keep us in mind.” She smiled.

“Of course.” Natasha smiled back, taking your hand. Oh my God, I get a baby shower. She internally squealed.

Natasha was currently looking at all the pregnancy books. She wanted all of them.

“I still have a few books if you want them.” You say softly remembering where you put them in the attic. 

“Okay only if Quinn doesn’t want them.” She nodded. “Do you have this one?” ‘What to expect when you’re expecting.’

“I had no idea there were editions.” You chuckled gulping, taking the book from her hand.

After buying your fiancé nearly every book in the store. You stopped at a restaurant knowing she needed to eat. You slyly slid a small bag across the table.

“детка you're the sweetest.” She smiled, taking your hand.

“You haven’t even opened it yet.” You laugh.

“Everything you give me is special.” She winked subconsciously, setting her hand over her stomach before bringing it up to open her gift. She gasped seeing the onesie she was in love with. “I thought you said no clothes or gadgets until our next appointment.” She smirked.

“Come on, you know I couldn’t leave the store without getting a ginger onesie.” You smirked, kissing the back of her hand.

“I love you.” She stood leaning down to kiss you.

“I love you too.” You smiled in the kiss before she sat back down.

“Now let’s get the girls things for their rooms.”

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

You were both cuddling after a long day of exciting news and getting the rooms ready for the girls.

“I was thinking.” She spoke softly into your chest.

“Hm?” You hummed trying not to fall asleep.

“I think it’s time for me to meet your parents as your fiancé. I wanna meet them before I start expanding like a balloon.”

“Really?” You inhale looking down at her.

“Yeah! I wanna see where you grew up, and get to know your parents!” She smiled, kissing your shoulder.

“That’s awesome! Maybe we can spend Christmas with them?!”

“That’s a great idea, detka.” Natasha smiled, kissing your cheek. “We can tell them they're going to be grandparents again on Christmas!”

“Alright.” You chuckled. “I’ll call up my parents, and buy the tickets. “Does this mean I finally get to meet the infamous Alexei and Melina?” You grinned.

“You want to go to Russia?” She grinned.

“Well, I thought maybe we can pull the trigger and bring them down here for good.” You shrugged. 

“Really?” She beamed.

“Yeah, maybe we can get them down here next month. We just need to talk to Thor about a job and I’ll talk to Tony about Melina to see what he thinks. Plus we can get them an apartment for now until they figure out another place to live. Our place is gonna be pretty packed now with our little one coming.”

“Okay.” She sighed contently, laying her forehead against yours.

“Everything is happening so fast.” You chuckle.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Natasha asked hesitantly.

“God no! I just can’t believe how quickly everything is coming together. First, us getting together, my divorce going through quickly, us getting engaged, and then moving in together. Now you’re carrying our first child, and soon your parents will finally be getting their green card. Everything is slowly falling into place.”

“You’re going to be a daddy again.” Natasha smiles, pecking your lips and scratching your abs.

“Hmm, I got you on the first try.” You chuckled squeezing her ass.

 “Hmm yeah, you did daddy.” Natasha husks kissing your lips before straddling you rubbing herself against you feeling you growing beneath her.

“Fuck, baby. You wanna ride daddy now?” You smirk squeezing her hips as she arches her back.

“Hmm you’d like that wouldn’t you daddy? Mommy riding this thick long dick?”

“Fuck yes, I would.” You groan. 

“Hmm, then I guess you better tell Quinn you’re engaged to a pregnant woman. Because until then you won’t be enjoying this ride.” 

Suddenly she is up and lying beside you.

“Wait what?!” You sit up.

“You heard me.”

“Babe, seriously? You get me hot and bothered, and now you're withholding?!” 

“Guess you better tell her soon, I know you can’t go long without being inside me.” She smirked.

“That’s so unfair! Babe?” You chuckled in disbelief. “Come on Nat you know I’ll tell her.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow I’ll tell her tomorrow. I promise. Come on baby we’re gonna have the girls for the weekend and the week. We may not get to have sex again.” 

Natasha contemplates her decision as she purses her lips.

“Come on baby, please? I love you so much and I just wanna show you how much tonight. We heard amazing news today and Daddy wants to celebrate with mommy so badly.” You coo, kissing her hand and up her arm.

Natasha giggles she wants to hold her ground and deny you, but you’re too irresistible.

“I’ll tell you what.” She smirks. “I’ll give you what you want but Y/N, I’m warning you now if you don’t tell her tomorrow. I will nut punch you the way you did Scott.” 

“Yes ma’am.” You nod in agreement. “Wait, I'm only telling her we’re engaged. Mom always said it’s bad luck to tell people you're pregnant until after the first trimester.”

“That’s fine. It kind of sucks though. I’m finally pregnant and I have to wait another 3 weeks to tell people?”

“i mean… you can if you really want to. The reason most people wait is to make sure the risk is down by the first trimester.”

Natasha nodded, taking your hand.

“I can’t wait to tell Yelena, my parents, and our friends.”

“You’re going to be an amazing mother.” You say softly brushing her hair back, kissing her tenderly.

“Thank you, baby.” She muttered nibbling your neck. “I still can’t believe you got me pregnant on our first time together.” She smirked.

“Hmm, I remember every detail of that day.”

“You fucked me right all day and night.”

“You were in those little shorts and my cock was rock hard for you. I still remember how wet you were for me.“

“I was always soaked for you just like I am now.”

You groaned, tearing off each other's clothes. Natasha laid you down before lifting your member. She kissed you sloppily as her hand slowly pumped you. Soon Natasha left your lips and kissed her way down your taut body. Her tongue darted out as she licked your cock up and down and all around before opening her mouth. You hissed, holding her hair as she gagged you down. 

“Fuuuck!” You groaned looking at her in her sultry eyes as she bobbed her head. “That’s so good.” You sigh.

Natasha hummed feeling you throb inside of her mouth. Feeling you this way makes her gush. She sucks on you harder and harder, making you moan. 

Soon she feels the way you buck into her mouth gripping her head with both hands. You’re getting closer she can feel the way your abs twitch against her hand.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck I’m gonna-“

Natasha bobbed her head faster as she sucked you harder.

You groan as your dick cocked and unleashed your seed right on her tongue.

She pumped you slowly as you bucked and groaned in appreciation.

Natasha stuck her tongue out showing you your cum. Your cock twitched in the air still hard for her. She lathered your cum on your staff hearing you moan before straddling you.

”Wait baby, let me taste you first.” You hummed as she rubbed her slick sticky pussy against your cum ridden meat.

“You know how hot and bothered I get giving you a blow job. I need you inside me now.” She whined grinding down on you.

“As much as I wanna taste you I wanna please you more. Use me then babe.”

Natasha moaned, pushing you inside as she rocked back. “Oh my God, yes! Ugh, you fill me up so well baby!”

“Shhhhhhhiiiiiit Natasha!” You groaned, leaning against the headboard as she slid down your member.

“Hmm.” She hummed, arching her back as she flung her hair behind her shoulders.

You reach for her nipples letting your thumbs play with them before bringing your mouth around them. 

“Oh Y/N. Daddy.” Natasha wiggled around you. “I love you. You fill me up so good. I want you all the time, especially now that you’re mine.” She moaned loudly, picking up speed.

“You can have me anytime for the rest of our lives baby. I love you and the way you take all of me every time.” You wrapped your arms around her, kissing her with passion. 

“I love you. Fuck, Y/N! I love you so much!” She moaned as she began lifting a bit higher to stroke your cock.

“I love you too. I’m getting close.”

Natasha moaned loudly as she continued stroking you faster and faster.

“Hm, that's it, baby move with me.” You say against her lips helping her lift up and down.

Soon she cried out as she paused her motions constructing around you.

“Ohhh fuck.” You groaned feeling your seed shoot inside of her.

You both panted and shook in the aftershocks of pure bliss. She lifted up and down riding it out. You also pumped inside of her a bit more before she lifted off you.

“Ahhh.” You hissed feeling your spunk land on your cock. You looked down gathering it all on your dick. “Oh baby, this is one of my favorite parts.” You bit your lip as you watched your fiancé take your cum ridden member and taking you back inside of her.

“Oooohh fuuuuuuck that’s it, fuuuuck that’s it.” You groaned feeling your toes curl.

“I want your cum deep inside me. I wanna have all of your babies.”

“If I could toss an extra bun in the oven I would baby. Fuck you feel so good.” You say pushing up and laying her down.

“Yessss!” Natasha began groaning as you thrust inside of her. “Fuck you’re so sexy daddy!” She moaned rubbing your flexing abs.

”That’s alllll you love.” You smirk letting your hands rub her hourglass of a body. “You’re gonna look so fucking good when your belly gets bigger.” You pant.

“Yeah?” She moaned.

“Fuck yes! Your boobs and ass are gonna be so fucking thick. Not to mention your pussy is gonna feel soooooo fucking good. I can’t wait.”

Natasha smirked, bringing you down with her legs.

Your moans grew louder and the sound of the bed creaking spurred you both on. 

“Shit, shit, shit, baby I’m gonna-“ Natasha let out a porn-worthy moan as she shook in your arms.

You hissed pulling out as she squirted against your abs. “Fuuuck that’s it, baby.” You smirked as she jolted feeling your cock against her little bundle of nerves.

“One more time baby for daddy?”

“Hmm yes, daddy.” She whined.

Your pussy monster is holding back. It wants to become a cave person and celebrate breeding your fiancé. They want nothing more than to flip her over and fuck her silly, but she seems so tired from her last orgasm. You have to tame the pussy monster inside of you.

“Don't worry baby girl daddy will go nice and slow.” You say getting into the missionary position entering her once more.

“Ohhhhhh daddy.” She groaned as you suckled on her sweet spot.

“Daddy’s got you sweetheart.” You grunt thrusting deep inside of her.

“Ugh, Daddy I already feel so full.” She whined.

“Daddy’s getting closer. Just a few more strokes inside this magnificent pussy you have. It’s so fucking perfect.”

“Keep going daddy make me cum again.”

You kiss her lips keeping a steady pace as she begins to meet your thrusts.

“Fuck I’m about to cum already.” You huff.

“Rub my clit daddy I’m getting there.”

You reach below rubbing against her clit with her hand on yours.

“Ohhhh! Ohhhhhhhh! Yesssss Y/N fuck yes! Ohhhh daddy!”

“Oh, baby!” You moan with her feeling your cock sputter inside of her. You hiss, thrusting little by little until your high lightens up.

You both kiss softly. “I love you so much.” You whisper.

“I love you so much.” She replies sleepily.

“I’ll clean up love.”

She hums in response.

You leave to grab a damp towel wiping her body clean before grabbing a fresh set of sheets.

You lift her up, placing her on the chair with some panties and your shirt before changing the bedding.

“You're so sweet Y/N.” She yawns as you lay her back down.

“I love you, baby mama.” You chuckle seeing her smile sleepily. You lean down kissing her stomach before circling around her.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Mommy where we goin’?” Fin asked as Quinn finished packing some clothes and toys in her pack pack.

“You’re gonna go stay with papa for a week.”

“Papa?” Fin furrowed her brows. “You're not coming?”

“No baby, but I will be right here if you need me. Beth and Ollie are going with you too.

“Otay.” The toddler replied in confusion seeing Ollie with his leash and all his things.

Quinn looked over at her phone seeing you knocking on the door. 

“Come on, your papa is here.” The blonde placed the Bluey backpack on her back and lifted her up. “Beth, come on.”

“This is stupid.” Beth groaned.

“Beth. Don’t start.” Quinn muttered, walking them down the stairs, and opening the door.

“Hi, girls.”

“Papa!” Finley beamed.

“Hi, Finny!” You littered her face with kisses before stepping inside.

“Hi, Beth.” You see her sitting on the last stair.

She looked up from her book to briefly roll her eyes at you.

“Lovely.” You sighed, before turning to your ex-wife. “You cut your hair. It looks great!” 

“Thank you.” Quinn had chopped off most of her blonde locks leaving her with a bob. She always kept it shoulder length or longer because she knew you loved it that way. “I know you said you got their rooms ready, but I still packed them with some clothes and toiletries.”

“Thank you.” You nod.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn muttered leaning against the sofa.

“Nothing is wrong, I just… can we talk?”

“Uh, sure.” She nodded.

You put on Bluey for Fin sitting her on the sofa with some goldfish. Beth begrudgingly sat next to her before you took Quinn aside to the kitchen.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” You say not wanting to ruin the new vibe between you and your ex-wife.

“That doesn’t sound too good.” She chuckled while sitting at the table. “If it’s about you two being engaged I already know.”

“It’s not about- wait you know?”

“I think you forget that people post things on social media.”

“I was going to tell you-“

“I’m sure you were… wait you said that wasn’t what you were going to talk to me about.”

“I wanted to ask you if I could have the kids for Christmas and New Year's. I wanted to go back home to Lima to see my parents.”

Quinn’s eyebrows raised. “Uhh sure that’s okay.”

“Do you want to join us?”

“God no.” Quinn chuckled. “It’s funny that you brought that up, Rachel asked if I wanted to spend Christmas with her dads in Saint Martin.”

“Oh. That’s nice, really nice actually. You always wanted a tropical Christmas.” You chuckled.

“Yeah?” Quinn furrowed her brows.

“Yeah, it sounds relaxing and luxurious.” You grin.

“So you don’t mind?” She asks looking up at you.

“Of course not, I want you to be happy.” You smile.

Quinn nodded and after a beat said: “Thank you, I’ll have an early Christmas with them.”

“Great.” You nodded. “Well, we should get going.” 

Quinn nodded and watched you walk towards the girls.”

“Alright let’s go Fin, Beth.” 

Beth ran to her mother hugging her tightly.

“It’s okay Beth go.” Quinn nodded, caressing her cheek.

The young blonde nodded reluctantly following you out the door.

“No papa Bluey!” Fin whined. 

“We can watch it again soon I promise. Beth, let's go grab Ollie.” You say again opening the door.

As you were all walking next door Finley spoke up.

“We go to Nattys?” Fin wrinkled her brow.

“Yeah, bub we live there now.”

“But I also live with mommy?”

“Yes, you also live with mommy. You have two homes now. One with mommy and one with papa.”

“Two?” Fin tilted her head as you walked up the steps.

“Yes, bub.”

The toddler was silent for a moment almost as if the young gears in her mind were spinning.

“Hmm smells good!” You say stepping inside.

Natasha took a deep breath smoothing out her clothes before stepping into the living room.

“Natty!” Fin beamed, wiggling in your arms. You set her down and she dropped her backpack. 

“Hi, Finny!” Natasha catches your toddler in her arms lifting her up.

You bent down picking up the backpack to see Beth looking down at her feet. You reach over gently, taking her hand. “I know this is a lot. I know you’re still upset, but thank you for being here. We can work through this together.”

Natasha watched as Beth nodded letting a couple tears fall on her sneakers.

“Nat and I just want to be here for you one step at a time.” You whisper, wiping her tears away. “Let’s put away your things and come back down for dinner.”

You lead Beth to her new room as Natasha follows with Fin in her arms.

Natasha smiled to herself seeing Beth’s eyes widen at her new room.

She had a nice bed with a cute comforter set and a bookshelf you built and painted for her. As well as a nice pc setup. 

“Bethy look!” Fin giggled pointing to your neon sign on the wall.

“Beth, I know you have another room right next door, but we want this to feel like home too.”

The young blonde nodded, lifting a photo frame of her and her friends at soccer practice. Another of her and your parents, and one with the three of you in the pool.

“Thank you,” Beth spoke softly.

Before you or Natasha could speak, Fin spoke up.

“My room now?”

“Sure.” Natasha chuckled.

Beth set her duffle bag down and followed the three of you to the next room. 

Natasha set the toddler down. 

“Bluey!” She squealed, pointing to the stuffies on her bed. “Look Bethy! Big Lego!” Fin gasped, seeing a Lightning McQueen track set and a small toy box. Fin quickly grabbed Lightning and placed him on the track. She giggled and squealed as she raced to the end.

“You both have a conjoined bathroom as well.” Natasha added.

Beth looked in, nodding at the cute colors Natasha picked out.

“Alright, bubs let’s go eat.”

“Awww.” Fin frowned. 

“We can play again later, Finny. Let’s eat first.” Natasha spoke lifting the toddler up in her arms

“Aw, Natty nooo.” Fin whined.

“No dinner, no dessert.” You say.

“Desert?” Fin perked up as you all made your way downstairs.

“I thought that we could all make our own pizza.” Natasha smiled, shrugging. “I made the base sauce and I laid out all the toppings.”

You set Finley in her high chair with her dough. She squealed when she squeezed the dough.

The hint of a smile on Beth’s face did not go unnoticed by Natasha.

“For dessert, I made us a cheesecake.”

“Hmmmmm.” Fin, looked like a cartoon looking at the cheesecake. She even had a little drool on her lip. 

Beth giggled, wiping her face. Natasha took that as a win.

“After dinner, I thought we could have a Mario Kart championship. The winner gets an extra slice of cheesecake.”

“Ohhh you are all going down!” You bellowed.

“Please I’ll hit you with the blue shell.” Beth scoffed.

“I’ll just do a spin move.” You shrugged.

“You mean on the banana peel?” Beth smirked.

“No, I win, I win!” Fin giggled.

Natasha smiled seeing the three of you laugh as you roll out your dough.

“Beth you gotta do the spinny thing.” You said tossing your dough in the air.

Beth laughed and threw hers in the air as well.

“Me too, me too!” Fin giggled only for hers to end up on her head.

“That’s just too cute.” Natasha smiled as all three of you snapped a photo.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Hmm, tasty.” Fin nodded, as Natasha helped feed her. “I do it now Natty, I do it.”

“Ohh okay, you’re such a big girl.”

“Yes.” Fin nodded watching you eat yours from the side of the crust and took a bite.

You reached under the table taking Natasha’s hand and giving it a light squeeze. You had both decided to keep the PDA in front of the kids at a very low state. It kinda killed you both a bit as neither of you can keep your hands off the other. Especially right now when you just want to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you. For all of this. It’s pretty awesome.” You grin.

“Tank you, Natty.”

“Thank you.” Beth said softly.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Alright, this is it.” You grin nudging Beth. 

Natasha looked down at her phone and picked it up.

“It’s Yelena.” She said to you.

You nodded and looked back at the game.

“Hey.” Natasha answered.

“Hi Cestra, how’d your first night as stepmother go?”

“It’s still going but it’s been great so far.”

“That’s great! Has Beth talked to you?”

“Not really but she seems to be having a good time.” Natasha smiles seeing you both laughing and playing the game as Finley plays with Ollie. It was killing her not to tell her sister about the baby.

“She just needs more time just don’t be all over Y/N, and she won’t murder you in your sleep.”

“Lena.” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“I’ll let you go. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

With that Natasha walked over to the sofa sitting down to watch the two of you play.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Natty I not deepy.” She shook her head playing with her stuffies.

“You’re not?”

“Hmhm, I stay up late.”

“Ohh okay, well how about I read this to you for a bit then you can keep playing.”

“Oooo okay.” She nodded seeing the book she loved.

You pecked Finley’s temple and kissed Natasha’s cheek before moving on to Beth.

You leaned against the panel seeing her messing with her computer. “Gonna keep playing? Was the win not enough?” You chuckled seeing her smirk.

“Just getting everything set up.” Beth replied, not looking up from the computer.

“Well I’m going to bed but if you need anything feel free to wake me up. I’m just down the hall.” You nodded.

“Goodnight.” Beth replied looking over.

“Night, sweetheart.” You pecked her cheek and walked down the hall seeing Finley asleep and Natasha tucking her in. You grinned at your fiancé and took her hand.

You both started your nightly routines.

After brushing your teeth and doing some flossing, you held Natasha from behind.

“Thank you for tonight, it was perfect.”

“It really was.” Natasha smiled, through the mirror before she washed her face.

You bit your lip looking down between your bodies. You gripped her hips and ever so lightly rolled yours. You hiked up her nightgown a bit and kissed her exposed back. She chuckled as she dried her face and applied night cream.

She turned her chin kissing your lips which you took as an opportunity to wrap your arms around her and really let yourself dig into her.

“Hmm, not tonight baby. I don’t want to traumatize them on their first night here.” She smirked patting your shoulder as she walked away but you grabbed her and pinned her against the wall.

“Daddy can be quiet.” You say nibbling on her neck.

“Hmm, but mommy can’t.” She smirked hearing you groan. “When they leave back to their mother's house you and I can have a marathon of our own.”

“Aww, but that’s a week from now.” You groaned.

“Just think of every way you want me.” She husked.

“Oh wow.” You shuttered against her. She pecked your lips once more before sliding out from under you and sliding under the covers.

Natasha giggled at your frozen state seeing the tent you were pitching. “Babe come on cuddle me to sleep.”

“I just need a minute.” You squeaked.

Natasha chuckled as she watched you shuffle over to the toilet letting out a grunt and a long sigh.

You washed your hands and lotioned up before lying next to her.

“That was way too fast.”

“The image you gave me was enough.” You smirked bringing her over to you.

“No funny business.” She smirked.

“No funny business. Just cuddles.” You nodded, pecking her lips.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

You woke up to a poke on your cheek. “Hmm?” You hummed before opening your eyes seeing Fin and Ollie.

“Papa, I hungy.” Fin sang. 

“You don’t wanna snooze a bit more with papa?” You ask sleepily lifting her up in bed.

“No! I wanna watch Bluey now pwease.” She giggled, waking up Natasha. “Morning Natty!”

“Morning Finny.” Natasha yawned.

“It’s alright babe go back to sleep.” You yawned sitting up to stretch.

“It’s okay, I can start on her breakfast while you change her diaper.”

“Natty, I no wear diapers no mores! I’m a big girl!” She huffed glaring at her.

“Oh excuse me! I had no idea.” She chuckled.

“What do you want for breakfast bubs? Pancakes, eggys, or cereal?”

“Hmmm, cereal!” She jumped. “Bluey O’s!”

“Okay come on toots.” You picked her up heading downstairs Ollie hot on your heels.

You quickly let him out back while you make your toddler a bowl of cereal. You set the bowl on the coffee table and turn Bluey on.

You chuckle watching Fin jump and dance to the intro song when Natasha walks downstairs.

“Hey, baby.” You smile sleepily. Natasha smiles still sleepy as she brings Ollie back inside, and crawls into your lap with a blanket. 

You both watch TV with Fin as she eats her cereal. It wasn’t until the end when she turned around looking at you both snuggling.

“Done?” You smile.

“Um, why you both snuggly?” She tilts her head. “Why live here and not with mommy?”

“Fin, do you remember when Mommy and I sat you down and explained what divorce meant?”

“Hmm maybe.”

“Okay well.” You sit up and so does Natasha. “Even though Mommy and I live side by side we aren’t married anymore.”

Fin furrowed her brows once more.

“Daddy is with Natty now.” You gesture.

“Natty?”

You nod.

“Natty is mommy now?”

“Uh well…” you stammered.

“Your mommy is still Quinn. Technically I’m your step-mother.” Natasha added.

“Like cinder ellie?”

“Uh yeah, except she’s not evil or mean.” You chuckle.

“Okay.” Fin nodded before asking. “… can I get some of my toys?”

“Of course.”

Fin beamed before running upstairs and bringing down her Lego and plushy.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

The weeks went by quickly and soon you were planning on letting the people in your lives know about the bun in the oven.

“Where’s Beth and Fin?” Yelena asked as you all sat down in the living room.

“They’re with their mom.” You say.

“Oh okay I guess we’re drinking tonight then.” She smirked.

“Uhh about that-“ you chuckled.

“Y/N and I asked you over for dinner to let you know our holiday plans.”

“Okay?” Yelena chuckled.

“We’re going to be with my family down in Ohio, and of course, you are more than welcome to join us.” You say.

“We really want you to join us.” Natasha smiled.

“What’s up with you two?” Yelena smirked.

“Three.” Natasha smiled.

“Wait what?” Yelena furrowed her brows in confusion.

“What’s up with you three?” Natasha reiterated.

“What the hell are you-“ like a bulb going off Yelena jumped up realizing what her sister was trying to say. “No way?! You’re pregnant?!”

You and Natasha nod excitedly.

“Oh my gosh!” Yelena cheered jumping with her sister. 

You chuckled while taking a video Of them.

“I’m gonna be an aunt!”

“You’re gonna be an aunt!” Natasha cried, nodding.

“Oh my God!” Yelena and Natasha laughed joyfully as they hugged one another. 

“So now will you come with us?” Natasha asked

“Of course, I’ll come.” Yelena smiled, wiping her eyes.

“I just really want to meet Y/N’s parents again as an engaged couple, and of course let them know we’re having a baby.” Natasha couldn’t stop smiling as she held her tiny bump.

“I’m sure they’re going to be thrilled.”

“Oh for sure.” You chuckled.

“Have you told your ex-wife yet?” Yelena cringed.

“No.” You sighed. “I’m gonna have to tell her and then the girls.”

“Well, I’ll be here in case she wants to fight my sister.”

“She wouldn’t do that, but I don’t know how Beth will take it.”

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

You invited Quinn out for lunch; you had both been making decent conversation until you finally told her as you both made your way to your truck.

“Quinn, Natasha is pregnant.”

Quinn’s smile slowly faded. It was silent and her stare went from your eyes to her ringless finger.

“That’s why you brought me here.” She whispered brokenly.

“Not the only reason.” You reach over taking her hands. “Quinn, I'll always have love for you, and I do miss our talks like this. Maybe we could do this more often and talk about our lives and the girls.”

Quinn squeezed your hand.

“Y/N, I love you too, always have, and I always will, but I need more time. We had been together since we were 15. You have no idea how much I miss you.” She said laying her hands on your abdomen. “I think about you all the time. When I’m cooking, when I’m putting the girls to bed, when I’m putting myself to bed.” She smirked, husking out the last part.

You cleared your throat with a light chuckle. Normally that would send you into a frenzy. The kind where you would have her mounted on your cock in no time.

“I’m sorry but I need more time. I love you Y/N. I love you enough to let you go. Can’t you love me enough to support me moving on too?” 

“Of course.” You smiled, taking her hand and kissing it softly. 

“So she’s pregnant huh?” She smirked as you two began walking once more.

“Hmhm.”

“Yeah, you probably should have warned her that you have magic sperm.” She chuckled. “You got me on the first try twice!”

You laughed nudging her shoulder.

“She’s really excited. She always wanted to have kids, but she honestly thought she couldn’t.” You explain.

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah… Fuck Quinn how do I tell the girls? How do I tell Beth?”

Quinn sighed knowing too much was happening to fast for the girls to understand.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t really know.”

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

Quinn takes a deep breath as she knocks on the Russian’s door. 

“Oh hi, Quinn.” Natasha smiled; opening the door.

“I um… well I went through the attic this morning and thought these might help.” The blonde set the box on the side table.

“Y/N told you.” Natasha smiled in surprise before looking in the box. It was nothing but pregnancy books, and some old gadgets to baby-proof the house.

“They did, congratulations Natasha.”

“Thank you, Quinn.” She replied softly.

“Just a heads up, Y/N’s sperm is literally magic. Gets you on the first try every time.” They both chuckled. 

“How do you think the girls will take the news about the pregnancy?” Natasha asked hesitantly.

“I think Finley will be okay. She might not fully comprehend the situation, but she’ll be excited to be the bigger sister now. Beth… I’m not sure she’s a teen now. She’s constantly wanting to argue with me nowadays. Y/N and I are on unfamiliar ground with her lately.”

“Y/N was telling me.” Natasha nodded.

“I’m just so scared she’ll end up like me in high school.” Quinn sighed.

“Beth is a smart young lady. She has the best of both you and Y/N. There’s not much you two can do except trust her to remember what you’ve taught her.”

“Oh hey.” You smiled seeing your ex-wife and newly dubbed baby mama speaking.

“Hi.” They smiled at you. 

“Well, I hope the box helps, I should get going.” Quinn spoke.

“You sure? I brought Chinese.” You grinned holding up the bag of food.

“Carbs Y/N.” She grimaced, shaking her head. She turned back to Natasha gesturing towards the box.  “Oh, by the way, the cream in the box, I would start using it now.” She gave you a side hug before walking out the door. 

God that felt great and weird at the same time. You don’t realize you’re staring at your ex until she waves again entering your old home.

“It’s for stretch marks.” Natasha smirked, lifting the cream and gaining your attention.

“Oh yeah, that stuff really works. Quinn used to make me put it on her every night.”

You make your way to the kitchen when Natasha speaks up.

“I know we have been thinking of how to tell the girls I thought maybe we could tell them after your parents? Maybe closer to our flight home? That way if she needs space Quinn will be back home.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” You nod, sighing. You just have a feeling Beth is not going to take this well.

[temiizpalace]

Can i have Malleus and Leona with prompt 3?

☆┊PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER! NOT HIS! (🐉 vs. 🦁)

SUMMARY: THEY BOTH OFFER HIS SHOULDER TO REST ON. WHO KNEW IT BECAME A FULL BLOWN WAR!

CHARACTERS: malleus draconia vs. leona kingscholar

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy, crowley sucks at being a guardian 👎👎👎

NOTES: leona suffering chronicles part 3!!! /j tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

helping crowley had many benefits.

weekly payments, a home and shelter, and a beloved father figure. that’s what he claims anyway. however, from yours and grim’s experience, there were also many drawbacks; he forgets to pay you, he forgets about you, you’re his favorite errand runner, and you tend to pull all-nighters in order to finish up his chores.

in short, helping crowley was just asking for a death wish. finally finding some free time in your day to rest, you sat onto a nearby bench hidden by the trees, basking you in some shade.

“urgh.. if i have to run down anymore papers to crewel i think ima be sick.” grim groans, stretching himself into your lap before curling up to nap. “tell me about it.. im sick of being sam’s supplier.” you sigh, leaning your head onto the back of the bench. “child of man? what are you doing outside of class?” a certain prince calls out, suddenly sitting by your side.

“tsunotaro? i could ask you the same question.” you laugh, suddenly snapping yourself awake. “wasn’t there a housewarden meeting today?” you ask, seeing his face twist into a pout. “if that is the case then they have failed to invite me.” he sighs, crossing his arms with a frown.

“seriously? again?” you scoff, shaking your head. “i’ll have a talk with crowley about this when i see him later.” you smile at him, patting his back. “i appreciate it. you’re too kind, really.” malleus looks into your eyes, not being able to resist smiling back at you. as you both continue to converse like normal, you have yawned far too many times for the poor boys liking.

“are you sleeping alright? i believe you yawned at least 10 times during our conversation. are my topics too boring for your liking?” he frets, sudden worry overriding his emotions. were you losing interest in him? are you going to leave him?! oh no. no no no no no no no no—

“why would you think that?! im always interested in what you have to say. crowley has been working me ragged lately, that’s all.” you reassure malleus, giving him a thumbs up as if what you said wasn’t concerning in the least. “why that lousy..” he mutters, eyes narrowing at the facts. how dare that stupid insolent prick drive his poor beloved prefect to the brink of exhaustion. it’s inexcusable.

“im on a break for once, so me and grim were just resting here.” you smile, pointing to your sleepy catlike companion. speaking of catlike companions, leona watched from a faraway tree your little chat with malleus. yuck. he’s already annoyed when you talk to other beastmen, but talking to that horned bastard just left a bad taste in his mouth.

“well, you’re more than welcome to rest on—”

“hey.” leona huffs, plopping himself beside you. malleus’ eye twitched at the sight. are you shitting me. what is he doing here? isn’t there a housewarden meeting for him to attend to? go away. “leona?! shouldn’t you be at the housewarden meeting?” you exclaim, practically taking the words right out of malleus’ mouth.

“mm, ditched. no way am i attendin something stupid like that first thing in the morning.” he shrugs, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable. “looks like someone wasn’t invited.” leona grins, pointing at the obviously annoyed prince sitting beside you. “if you had just come to insult me, then you can take your leave and save it for later, kingscholar.” malleus replies with a polite yet harsh tone.

“not everythin’s about you, lizard. can’t i care for my own underclassmen?” leona frowns, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “..pardon?” malleus furrowed his brow, watching as the lion prince got far too touchy for his taste. “they got eye bags, probably haven’t been sleeping well. since im such a kindhearted senior, i don’t mind if they rest a lil.” he smirks, leaning you onto his shoulder.

“really?!” you shout in disbelief, nearly waking poor grim up. leona was one to never admit to anything, always keeping you guessing. seeing him so.. direct threw you and malleus for a loop. “would you rather rest on tree bark?” he raised a brow, leaning closer to your face. “nope! thanks i guess, leona.” you hastily accept, deciding not to question it.

“thanks for talking to me malleus, it kept me from falling asleep.” you smile, now shutting your eyes. in a matter of seconds, you had already fallen asleep, relieved from all the previous exhaustion. the two princes glared at one another, tensions rising to new heights. “your services are no longer needed, you can go to the housewarden meeting. consider it an invite.” leona chuckles, waving malleus off towards the hallway, earning a genuine look of anger from the usually calm and collected fae.

“i appreciate the sentiment, but i believe the child of man and i were having a heartfelt conversation before you showed up. as king of briar valley, consider yourself excused.” malleus retorts, moving you over onto his shoulder. leona scowls in return to his obvious insult, very gently moving your head back to him. “if i remember right, they chose to lean onto me. not nice taking what’s not yours.”

“don’t act like you didn’t just steal their attention.” malleus scoffs, tugging you back towards him. “why you horned bastard.” leona growls, bearing his fangs at the now smug prince. and so, the game of tug of war began. constant pulling back and forth, back and forth, it was a miracle you hadn’t waken up yet. poor prefect..

HOWEVER, a certain someone else felt the shaking, and just couldn’t stand it. grims eyes flutter open as he looks to the two housewardens tugging you left and right with a frown. “HEY,” grim shouts, startling the two as they looked down. “do ya mind?! some of us need to get a lil shut eye.” he hisses, trying to look at the very least intimidating. “shut it, pipsqueak.” leona grunts, glaring at grim.

“grim, i believe it is best if you don’t intervene.” malleus stated sternly, moving him off of your lap. “HOW DARE YOU! GRIM THE GREAT LISTENS TO NOBODY! [MC]! WAKE UP, WE’RE SLEEPING SOMEWHERE AWAY FROM THESE FREAKS.” grim shrieks, almost rupturing both of their eardrums.

you stir awake at grim’s shrill voice, rubbing your eyes with a grumble before looking downwards. “huh..? oh, tsunotaro? leona? you’re still here?” you mumble, turning your your sides to see the two boys covering their ears. “let’s get outta here and sleep somewhere else. crowley might find us and give us somethin else to do.” grim frowns, tugging your hand.

“alright, alright, jeez. calm down, will ya?” you sigh, reluctantly getting up and following him inside. “i’ll see you both later! don’t go arguing more, ya hear?” you show them a smile before grim drags you out of sight, leaving both boys dumbfounded.

“it’s your fault they left. tch, dumb lizard.” leona grunts, glaring daggers into malleus. “my fault? how about saying that again after i shave off that mane of yours?” he jeers, feeling a vein about to burst. “haah? what was that?!”

they did indeed, argue again.

A/N: three leona requests in a row is crazy 😭😭 he can’t catch a break (imagine leona bald tho)

date published: 8/25/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[chuchurio]

"To the sea, you'll find me."

* Childe x fem!reader Synopsis: Childe must go to war. You promise to wait for him, waiting weeks, months, and eventually years with no sight of him. still, you remain loyal to him, things don't always go as planned though. Genre: Angsty (?), a little ooc, Yearning, implied deaths, fluff near the end! WC:5.6k

a/n: Yes. This is basically Odyssey/Epic brainrot, but make it the handsome ginger.

You frown, handing Childe the last satchel full of bread that’ll feed the army, risking their life in this rebellion. When he knew it was his turn to stand up for his people, he was preparing fleets by dawn. You, on the other hand, remained silent. 

That night, the palace was more active than usual. Maids were rushing around, and servants were grabbing items and bags, anything that was in reach, preparing for the departure of the King. His eyes keep flickering back to you, waiting for you to respond to the news of his departure. You didn’t. 

He’d raise a hand,  gesturing forward, the servants bowing respectively before scattering away. 

His footsteps are heavy, the sound growing closer until it stops right beside you. 

The distant shouts of men and hurried movements would fill their silence, frozen in their own time. 

 “I’ll come back to you.” He whispered, his fingers pushing back a free strand of hair. Your heart throbs, fighting back the tears that wanted to spill, because no matter how much you plea for his stay,  he still will leave for war. 

“I know you will.” You cupped his face, taking in every feature of his one last time. Even if you didn’t say it out loud, a part of you was afraid, so deeply afraid this would be the last time you see him. The innocent coo broke your silence, its little plush hand reaching up curiously to grab at her father’s hand. 

He chuckles, his gaze visibly softening at the sight. He presses his finger against the little hand, allowing her to curl her fingers around it. You couldn’t help but look back up at him, the faint smile he wore, the way he stared at your child. 

“Ajax.” He looks up, staring directly at you. 

“Promise me.” Your voice trembles, and he knows that you’re truly keeping quiet, so he doesn’t hesitate. “It’s me. When do I fail ya?” He smiles, and that only strengthens your worry. You couldn’t fathom to never see it again. 

“This isn’t a joke, Ajax. Give me your word.” His eyes can’t seem to harden when looking at you, your struggle to remain calm for his sake will only confirm his choice to marry you. Because if not you, then who? 

He presses his forehead against yours, sighing for a moment, your heart slows down, his voice only a soft murmur, “I won’t give you a reason to cry.” You kissed him gently, one last time before you began to miss the taste. 

In less time than you can count, he’s filled the ships. The men who carry the weight of their families leave it at the harbor, tearful goodbyes and hopeful hugs around you. 

He fixes the wool coat, his touch lingering longer in certain areas. His fingers tugged at the furred ears of your hat, trying to keep it down. He didn’t say it, but his blue eyes held none of the excitement they usually had. 

“Snezhnaya needs their King.” He broke out of his trance, his blank stare now on you. The tip of your nose was a darker rogue, and the cold allowed a different shade to form. 

“It’s a good thing they got their Queen,” he teased a smile that just barely reached his eyes. You touched his hand, slowly interlacing them into one. “She’ll be waiting…” you paused, a sigh leaving your lips, “I’ll be waiting..” 

Dawn was kind enough to let the moon show off for a little longer, letting you have Childe for just a second more than you should. 

He watches you in the stillness, slowly bringing your wrapped hands to his mouth. He holds it there longer than intended, but you knew this was his way of sealing his promise. 

He will come back to you. 

“Snezhnaya will never know its luck.” He muttered into your skin, his breath tickling a bit. 

You’ll smile at him; a more public goodbye. He hugs you so tight, but it doesn’t feel like enough. He pressed a rough kiss to the top of your head, and in the middle of your embrace was his little bundle of joy, the gears to his decision. 

You remain on land, and thousands of families split, including yours. You hear encouragement, along with cheers of hopeful victories, but all they had was hope.

 You watch his silhouette become a blob and then nothing. Your daughter curled to your chest, unaware of what she’ll be missing. 

You weren’t always the most patient, but for him, you were willing to sit and wait. 

 Time-tested your word. 

You’d grow accustomed to the silence in your halls. The long corridors keep you company more often than not. The words that were once reassurance turn into a haunting pause.

After years of waiting, Snezhnaya never lost its cold, the freezing breeze similar to a sharp warmth. As the queen of this land, you keep your head high, your hair twirled into an updo that would give you a composed appearance. 

Because truth be told, you’re crumbling. 

Rumors of your husband being long gone spread like wildfire within months of him leaving. You’d await every ship, every foreigner with open arms and all ears, in the hope they’d bring news of your dearest Ajax. Not even the birds would chirp a response. 

You’d be questioned about your position; he earned the title, but with his absence starting to show through the cracks, men were interested in a taste of the power. Take Snezhnaya and his token prizes right under his feet. 

Your fingers ran down each string, braiding it into the other, crossing, and repeating. There was something peaceful about repeating the same actions, it was the only time your head got rest from the constant questions, suggestions.. confessions. 

You’ve heard not a thing after the war. The travelers passed by and spread the news of your people who left. Word got back that you were victorious, and that brought little relief in your heart. 

Celebrations would be heard on every street, things were looking up. You were happy to spend money on quality decorations, you had to commission merchants, artists, and the crest decorating the paper mache. 

They were never hung. 

 With no sign of the king or his army, the people began to whisper, it was slow but crawling up the street and toward your castle. You didn’t blame them,  You understood it wasn’t doubt but tradition to have a king by your side. You were more than capable, always had been. 

“Mom?..” 

The voice brought your fingers to a stop, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You keep forgetting to knock, sweetheart.” 

“I did.. 3 times for good measure.” the soft thud of the heavy door closing behind you made a sigh leave your lips. You don’t even remember holding back your breath. 

“Sorry, I must have my head in the clouds..” a chortle left out of you, trying to ease the young girl’s nerves. You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, slowly moving down and looping around your neck. 

“Can I have mine there too?” She asked softly, her embrace warm. You lean back into her hug with a smile. Sometimes when you hear her voice, no matter how feminine.. you think of Childe, his promise not to leave her fatherless. 

“Of course you can..” 

The comfortable silence was kind upon your ears, the window giving you a view of cushions of white that formed. Your eyes closed for a second, basking in the whispers of the snow, and the quiet that lingers in the room. 

“I heard he has armor that makes him appear feet taller.” The younger girl quipped, her head resting on your shoulder. You hummed a response, making her continue, “That he was an enigma. I heard that one from the baker down the market!”

You chuckled but kept your eyes closed, keeping your gestures to a minimum. 

“I also heard.. he won the war .. and he’s coming home..” she lowered her voice, trailing off. It stung the poor girl the same way it made you look over your shoulder to comfort your child. 

But she was barely a child anymore; her stubby little hands were longer and gentle, and her cute babbles had turned to eloquent sentences. Your baby was flourishing right in front of you. 

You gesture for her to sit down on the chair beside your own. There were two chairs, one for you to sew, one for her to watch you. 

“He will come home.” You reassured, your hand squeezing her own to console her. Archons know you need to heal yourself too. 

She didn’t respond, playing with your fingers as if a question weighed heavy on her mind. She has a look similar to yours, a bit lost, a bit hopeless, and impatient. It makes you chuckle, her frustration making her eyes narrow just the way Childe’s did. 

“What is it?” She was surprised to even hear something out of you. 

“Your father was afraid you’d lose any part of him while he was gone.” Your fingers brushed through her hair, reminiscent. “But you’re everything he was and even more.” 

And she was, the charming smile was riddled of her father, the competitive nature that she had, a hunger to succeed—This palace could never make her feel as much yearning as when she looks at the product of their love. 

She was like a ghost, the closest thing you had to Childe. 

She crinkled her nose before softly resting her head on your shoulder. Her hand rested atop of yours with gentle circles soothing you, “We’ve got time.. I’ll make sure to make time..” she whispered, silently watching the tapestry you had sewn. 

And like she said, there was time. You’re used to the routine, working elegantly on a tapestry honoring the king by day and delicately undoing it by night. That’s what you told yourself, that you were delicate with it. 

There were nights you’d go to the tapestry and snag at the ends of the thread. Your head was hot, and the portraits only made this heavy burden you carry grow. Your nails would dig into the craft and tear somewhere as a starting point for tomorrow. Your fingers would burn as you broke into the tapestry, and you’d cry the first few years, but with time, your face would only twist into a scowl. You were angry with the archons; there were times you were angry with Childe, and then there were times when you were angry at yourself for not being strong enough.

You feel the faint breeze of the night, calling for your attention. Slowly, you move to the edge of the open window, letting the scenery call out to you. The sky is a soft blue, the ocean reflecting the bulbous shape of the moon. It brings a sweeping thought each time, so hopeful, and part of you believes it’s naive, yet you know.. Your gut tells you he’s there. 

You rest your chin on your palm, the other clutching your chest as your heartbeat slowed to its normal rhythm. You speak to no one, but surely the sea will deliver it for you, 

“I’ll buy you all the time you need.” 

When your maids ask you why your fingers are tender and your hands have blemishes, you’ll smile and respond,  “I keep assisting in the kitchen; there is no need to worry, ladies.” 

A moon cycle would pass before your daughter bursts into your room, heaving and face red. 

“Sweetheart, what happened–”

“They know.” she gasped out. 

Your eyes widen, flickering to the unfinished tapestry. You look back at her, and although there is fear gnawing at you, your daughter seems petrified that the truth is out. As a mother, you swallow the emotion to ease her own. 

As a queen, you have to prepare for the worst. 

“Know as in speculation?” Your daughter shook her head, struggling to catch her breath. “No. they’re chanting for justice, that–that you owe them, mom–” she’s tripping over her words, making you reach for her hands. You run your thumbs across her hand and soften your tone. “It’s okay. I’ll make a statement.” 

You walk toward the large dining hall, your daughter by your side and fixing her tiara. The roars of anger grew louder as you stood behind the double doors. 

“If I were a man, they would listen to what I say,” your daughter muttered, upset that her own claims get ignored even with her status. 

“Don’t let that stop you from speaking up.” You tuck a stray hair behind her ear, fixing her up just a bit. 

She gives you a worried smile,  letting out a sigh. “Is it going to be okay? We can call for the diplomats and guards to feel more secure–” You chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, I got it from here.” 

She frowns. “Are you sure?” 

“I wouldn’t let them touch a hair on you.” You smiled and gave her a reassuring nod before turning back to the doors. 

When you pushed them open, there was no silence, but the anger was more than deafening. You could feel the stares gravitate with each step you took, like the center of a bright light. All of the gazes trail back to the princess who walks behind you. 

‘We’ve waited long enough!’ ‘When will there be a king?’ ‘Y/n, make your choice!’ 

‘Justice! Justice! Justice!’ 

‘King is long gone!’ ‘No more delay!’ ‘Y/n who shall be crowned?’ 

A mix of complaints, urgences, and disappointment rang through the hall, and there was no deterring this. You have avoided it long enough. 

You raise your hands only to slowly bring them down, motioning them to quiet down for your response. 

Even when they demand of you, they follow your orders, the yells and chatter growing silent. 

“Gentlemen, I must make an apology to you all. I’ve been grieving my loss with no progress; your impatience is understandable.” 

They're watching you in silence, expectant, their eyes demanding and visually threatening the next words that’ll come out of your mouth. 

You take a deep breath, coming to your only and last option. 

“The man who can string my husband’s prized bow, shoot through 12 axes to the center of this target,” as you speak, your servants are quick on their feet, setting up the axes, foretold if the day were to come of this challenge, to arrange your final act of freedom. 

It took some time before it was set, the men smirking, even chattering between themselves knowingly as if they weren’t each other’s enemy starting from here on out. 

“Will sit at the throne, ruling by my side as king.” Ecstatic cheers echoed through your halls, cocky assumptions without even touching the bow. You watch in silence,  reaching around your neck, and unclipping the ruby that rests on your chest. 

You raise your voice, cutting through the conversations. “It must shatter this ruby, a possession of the king, a gift for me!” Of course, you wouldn’t let any man just replace your husband. 

Some smiles remained, while others scowled at the new requirement. Who were they to complain.. you gave them what they wanted. 

You glance down at the necklace, your heartache just as raw as when you watched his ship depart. 

It was hard to let go of it. But with its destruction, so will your strength and vitality. You’ll succumb to the fate of this very gift. 

You allow the maidens to hang it behind the target, and expectantly, the men gather round hungry for a start, smiling and seething with pride, muscly and boastful. It was a pile of nothing that could compare. 

You’d ask to replace the glimmering ruby waiting to shatter behind the target but you knew your daughter would deal with the consequences. 

Some of these men weren’t men— boys. When it comes to power no one gives a damn. You weren’t even allowed to grieve the king. No, not you. 

You stare blankly at the crowd, tossing the bow with a necessary force, the only glimpse of odious resentment. 

“Do your best, and may the Tsaritsa grant you her strength.” 

It’ll never be enough. 

You watched the first few with little anticipation, the closer one got to the center, the more blood would rush to your head. You didn’t want to guess if it were the nerves that you were right, or that one would eventually manage to shatter your necklace.

“Mother.. if you must, you may leave..” your daughter spoke softly, respectfully around the suitors and maids, her hand on your arm. 

You smile and give her a nod, “That I shall..” your eyes move back to the men, towering, blind mice leading the other. 

You stood up, offering one last look to the suitors before slipping away into your halls. You perch on the window, hearing the birds caw and soar through the skies. For such a gloomy situation, it was a beautiful day. The sun is smiling, the sea is singing, and something about it makes today just so special. 

“Find your daughter.” 

It was a distinct voice, you’d never heard it before. You whip your head back, looking for the source. There was nobody, not a single soul around you. You take a step away from the window, trying to process what or who you heard. 

Is that important? Your gut sinks, and that is enough to drag you back into the dining hall. She’s gone. 

Your eyes dart toward the suitors almost accusingly, although they’re still preoccupied with the task at hand.

Where is she?.. 

A simmering panic settles in, rushing down the halls. You’re used to her disappearing, but never when these men were nearby. It was the one thing you asked of her. 

You’d enter vacant rooms, swift through the kitchen, and the gardens – not a single sight of her has been confirmed. 

Until the sound of shuffling made you stop in place. 

“You piece of shit- let me go!” 

‘Woah there, didn’t know the princess had a dirty mouth,’ a dark chuckle barreled into your bones, your blood running cold. A suitor has already broken off. 

You press your body against the wall, your heart screaming for you to move, your mind and body disagreeing on your next course of action. 

‘Come onnn, I’ll show you just how good being a woman is–’ A loud shriek left the man, and a hard thud echoed, your daughter audibly wincing. 

‘This bitch bit me!’ He barked out, making you turn the corner with swift ease. 

He glares down at your child, the same look reflected up at him. ‘The queen doesn’t need you anyway, I’ll do her a favor’ 

“So kind of you to offer yourself.” It was merely a whisper from you before kicking at the back of his knees, knocking him down in surprise. There was no leeway for him to get up, you straddle his back and grab a handful of hair. 

A harsh yank back before slamming him down against the tiles. 

You heard a groan, your arm like a heavyweight slamming his head right back down with a firm grip. Then you did it with more intent, shoving him to meet the beautiful tiles Childe let you pick. 

He had you picking colors, designs, types of wood, all these small and significant differences to make the castle to your liking. 

“Ohhhh, I think red would look much nicer.” He exasperated, nudging your shoulder. 

“I think it would ruin the atmosphere, neutrals will look best, something warm but not dark, and a design at the center, see my vision?” he didn't respond, his gaze lingered on you.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just like hearing ya.” He gave you a coy smile, making you roll your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. 

“Corny.” You muttered, making him chuckle, “oh? Is that so? Let me show you what’s really corny—“ he grabbed you by your waist, lifting you higher in his arms, earning a yelp and fits of laughter.

You always thought he had a way of getting what he wanted, but he never attempted to with you. 

Getting you had been enough. 

“Mom! That’s enough!” 

Your face felt hot, your knuckles white as they continued to rock the man’s head into the tiles, the cruel crunch and thick liquid audible. 

The warm droplets falling on your hand, you were heaving. You’ve been crying with a rage that had been begging to come out. It got the best of you. 

His nose was flattened, disfigured. He was surely dead, with the features melting into the other, you finally let go. 

This random guy had just proven your point why red floors would’ve been a terrible idea, it makes the place more solemn. 

“We— We have to go —“ screams could be heard from the dining hall. The sound of scattering, fear, and anger fell upon the halls of your home. 

You stumbled back up, picking up the ends of your dress, the fur at the bottom uneven as you lifted it. “Upstairs, go— go!-“ Your daughter's reflexes kicked in, finally standing up from where she had been previously thrown. 

The noises from the dining hall erupted out into the corridors, screams from men spilling through the castle. You watch as your daughter rushes toward the main stairs, picking up the ends of her dress and sprinting upward. You follow behind, staggering to glance back at the chaos. 

You caught glimpses of the suitors, the higher you climbed, the more you could see their bodies decorating your floors. Your tiles were drowned in a scarlet red that resembled your carpets. Whatever had come through, its aim is deadly, ruthless even. 

“Where do I–” You grab her by the hand, tugging her toward your room. It was the safest option up there, an emergency exit carved due to Childe’s persistence. If Childe were to come back.. His castle would have been overrun, his home in shambles from the inside. 

There was no time to think about it. 

“It’s a threat, isn’t it? Someone has gone rogue.”Your daughter lets out a sigh,  running her fingers through her hair, trying to comb the situation. 

“It was bound to happen, right? – No one is willing to let it go- Mom, you knew it would get this bad? Right? –” 

You were busy bolting from corner to corner, a woven bag in your hand as you placed valuables inside. The truth is, you never thought of stalling this long. You didn’t think you had to. Somewhere along the way, you had to realize that you needed a way out. 

“Mom!” Her voice was trembling, making you stop for just a moment. You tie a knot on the bag, your words hard to push out. 

“I didn’t want to do it.” You pause, placing the bag on your bed. “I didn’t plan to wait so long, or that I’d be relying on my gut, I didn’t plan to be this helpless.” You did everything to your wits' end.  Extended grieving, openly abstaining, distractions around Snezhnaya that’ll keep the buzz long enough, the tapestry, the challenge, everything. 

You look toward her, clutching the bag close, “You don’t need to worry, I’ll take care of the rest here..” She looked at you suspiciously, “What do you mean–”

The rustling down the halls, doors being slammed open with the echo travelling down the halls. 

“I mean, there is no time. You will leave. Uncle Teucer will receive you, and– and you let him know that the throne has been defied.” Her face dropped, shaking her head, “No I can’t leave–” 

The closer the slamming got, the less time there, and the groans of anguish from the bottom grew faint. 

You urged her into the large closet, her retaliations falling silent, her eyes trembling with fear not for herself but for you. 

“If you don’t hear me anymore– listen, you don’t hear my voice, you break at the stone, there should be an open space leading to the dock. Don’t wait too long for me.” 

She’s struggling to speak, only able to tug you close for a hug. Finally, she breaks down in tears, hugging you so close as if you were to vanish. 

“I’ll meet you there, sweetheart. It’ll be okay,” you coo, running your bruised hand through her hair, combing her sobs to silence. You don’t know how long you remained that way, this woman shrinking in your embrace, like when she would hide in your arms from the harsh storms at a young age. 

You didn’t want to alarm her. 

You give her one tight squeeze before letting go, closing the doors for her safety. The thudding was growing louder. 

You press your body against the large door, collecting yourself the best way you can. You rush to the bed, time is trailing at your feet, and every decision you’ve made has led to this. You kneel to reach for the familiar bronze-headed spear. It was yours in your days of traveling, one you used before settling down to become queen. 

You never thought you’d have to use it this soon.

The door barricaded you, the harsh thuds as someone—or something tried to gain access. You prepared yourself, kissing your wedding ring while aiming the spear right ahead. 

You’ll die serving your people. You'll die protecting your baby. You’ll die if you have to. 

The door didn’t hold out for much longer, crashing open with a slam to the ground. Your eyes are trained on the dust, aiming back with your arm. Your heart thrums in your ears, pumping loudly through your head.. 

You’re scared, but not enough to surrender. 

“I don’t care who you are. Retreat.” You couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice, pointing directly at the gouged-out area where your door once was. 

The anonymous figure walked forward, making you do the same. Your arm lifted higher, ready to strike down.

“Back off.” 

The dust settled down, wanting to show you a gift,  to reveal a face you have yearned to meet again. Bloodied, with fresh wounds, and with clothes torn at certain points. But alive. 

“Ajax?” 

The spark in his eyes was gone, and the coy smile you were always greeted with looked impossible with how he barged into your bedroom. 

“(Y/n)..” It was barely audible, making your back straighten, your eyes scanning every feature. He looked different, so.. so tired. 

His gaze was dull, signs of aging riddled across his face,  scars where there were none before, a frown where there never used to be one, his gear tattered, and the helmet was missing altogether. He looked like Childe, 

But signs of what he was once were out of sight. 

You watch him silently again, slowly reaching your hand out to him, trying to touch his face.  

“Is it really you??” 

He didn’t smile, but a long sigh left his lips, his shoulders loosening at the sight of you. “I couldn’t break it.” He hoarsely spoke, evading your touch by placing the very ruby necklace you left back in your hand. Intact. 

Your eyes softened, unable to stop yourself from clutching it close. “Thank you.. I’ve missed you–” your free hand extends up, trying to cup his face. 

He flinches back, stiffening at your attempt. You furrow your brows, your hand in the air, waiting to be accepted. 

“Ajax. . .” your fingers moved just a bit, his eyes flickering over to them with unsurity. 

He looked hesitant to breathe; his eyes were dim but hopeful to be in front of you again. “I’m a bad person. You know that.. right?” He muttered, his eyes trained on your hand before going back up to your face. 

You look at him in confusion, whispering back, “What do you mean?” 

“I killed so many people... I’ve had blood on my hands from the moment I left you.” He breathes in as if he were to shatter, like he didn’t pull himself from the depths of solitude to stand in front of you again.

“I’m nothing that you should accept. You deserve someone better, someone who didn’t crush others, someone who can be warm.” He grabs your hand, pressing it to his chest, silently requesting that you feel his heartbeat. 

It was irregular, beating in a rhythm you still recognized. 

“Did you go into war thinking you wouldn’t?” You asked softly, not sure how to approach his emotions, there’s turmoil he carries, and in sight it awakens the dormant ones he left here, with his child and wife. 

“I’ll taint you.” He tried to reaffirm as if it would stop you from clutching his skin, a fist forming against his chest. 

“Aren’t we all?” He tore away from you, shaking his head, “I betrayed many, I watched my men die, I couldn’t save a single one, y/n I am not worthy of a thing.. Especially not you.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at the ground, then back toward you, “I’m not who you think I am.” 

You stare at him silently. He’s not going to budge, you’ve never seen him so tormented by his past. He’s suffered greatly from the moment you knew him, and he was bloodthirsty for experience and adventure. But not like this; 

“Fine. You’re not.” 

His frown deepened, frozen in place. “In that case, grant me one last wish,” you muttered, looking down at the necklace in your palm. 

You dangled it, stretching your arm out towards him. “Take this and bury it. Far, far away, it is a rock that deserves rest.” Any ounce of exhaustion on his face was replaced with shock. 

Then anger. Hurt. 

“You .. You serious?” His voice was barely a whisper, looking at you with disbelief. 

“It took me days to make this happen— I gave that to you as a promise, you know that? From the same stone you held out to me!” His earring still remained on his ear, the only thing of his that wasn’t completely damaged. The beautiful ruby was split in two, jewelry that remains with both of you.

“I gave that to you before our wedding day. I traveled everywhere and this was for you!” He was yelling; his hand pressed to his chest, 

“You know that as a queen, you can’t get rid of something like this!” His voice was raw, he looked like he might genuinely burst into a rage of tears.

Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes, the loss of youth, the loss of time. His loss. “I’m your wife first!” 

You endured countless comments, Loneliness, parenthood, and grief from the moment the sun arose to the dawn where you still lie awake in a pitiful nightmare. 

“The sea won’t take you, the soldiers won’t take you, not even the archons can take you—“ you roughly grab his hands and press them to your heart the same way he did to you. He doesn’t dare look at you, struggling to process your words.

“You’re not at war, I’m not war! Don’t fight for me when you’ve had me all along— Ajax, I’m commanding you to look at me!” The faucet started on its own. Somewhere along the way, you managed to break his.  You watch the life in his eyes color in, unable to hide how nice it felt to see it again. 

“I’ll be your right hand until my bones cave to this dirt. Do you hear me? I would wait and wait, wait to see you in flesh or when I dissolve because I’m yours.” 

He’s always been a bit broken, but so are many; the difference is this man has been stripped of the very pride you adored. And if it took you till old age to rebuild him, then that’ll be your fate. 

“I will always be yours.” 

His eyes softened, a cry of sorts leaving his lips as he pulled you into a hug. You hold on to him, your fingers holding him so close just to make sure he won’t disappear. Sobs leave your body, and he reassures you with soft words, apologizing for your wait, while you continue to reply with apologies for his journey. 

He cupped your face, tear-streaked and reddened. You didn’t wait for a cue; you leaned forward, meeting his lips with a tender kiss. He pulled you closer, feverishly tasting you.  It’s been too long. 

His hands ran over your body, tracing every curve he had memorized from the moment he left. You run your fingers through his hair, reminding yourself that he was right in front of you. You’d break away for a breath, and he found it as a sign to kiss you again, leaving you lightheaded, urgent. 

Finally, he pulled away, out of breath. His eyes were warm, and his thumb brushed against your cheek. He pressed his forehead against yours, “I’m sorry,” he muttered. 

You smile, closing your eyes. It’s been too long. 

“Never be sorry.” 

. 

.

. 

You kept your promise to your sweet girl. Heading to the dock the same way she went. Childe hadn’t said anything, but he held your hand firmly, fingers enlaced. That was all you needed. 

Considering all that's been damaged, the sun does seem brighter, the sea a lot quieter today. Blood that’s been shed doesn’t compare to the soaring high in your chest. 

Walking down the wooden trail, you tug him toward the docking area. 

You told her to leave, and surely you should believe she left. 

But there she was in the cold. Silently waiting, sitting at the edge of the dock. It’s the most silence she’s gotten in a while, you can’t blame her. 

You feel Childe grip your hand harder, his eyes wide at the sight of the girl. 

“Sweetheart,” you said softly, making the girl jump in surprise. She glances back, a look of relief crossing her features. Her eyes then flickered to Childe, her brows furrowing, scrambling to get up to get a better look.

“Father?..” she whispered, a question, almost a request. 

He opens his arms, trembling to hold up. 

“I’m home.” 

[minju4won]

paparapzi

— when your relationship is discovered by the media.

idolenhypen maknae line x nonidol femreader.

선우

you never thought you were going to end up with your best friend’s little brother.

you had grown up with your best friend and her little brother. sunoo had always made her crush on you noticed, however, you let it go. sunoo was a child to you.

you grew up with them until one day you stopped seeing sunoo, her sister told you that now he spent it in his room, you believed it at first, until you passed by the subway, a poster of his birthday.

he debuted as an idol.

that day you left him a small congratulatory message, even though he had debuted months ago.

since that day, you hadn’t seen him in person, you hadn’t talked to him. you didn’t follow the activities of his group either, it was as if sunoo had disappeared from your life forever.

until that day.

you were at your best friend’s house, studying for a university exam, but you had gone down to her kitchen because you were thirsty to death, what you didn’t expect was to see sunoo.

you hadn’t seen him in years, and he was so different. now he was a man.

you tried to talk to him in a friendly way, but sunoo only answered you with short words. you knew why. being an idol limited you to certain things, and one of them was having a partner, that’s why he behaved like that. you knew it, but you didn’t care.

you got his phone number thanks to his sister and you started talking to him, clearly, at first as friends, that was your intention at the beginning. what you didn’t expect was that little by little those feelings would be transformed into love.

every time you went to his house you kept feeling those looks, as his gaze went down to your lips. so, you decided to confess, you thought he was going to accept. but no, he rejected you.

you didn’t talk to him for days, you didn’t want to see him, you just wanted to get away from him.

what you didn’t expect was that after a month of what happened, he was going to be at the door of your house, confessing.

and of course, you rejected him.

you were resentful as well as scared, you didn’t want to be the partner of a famous person. But sunoo didn’t give up, he rolled his eyes and approached you to kiss you.

and from that day on, you started dating him.

“that’s horrible” you murmured while you saw the cream he was showing you. “i got pimples”

“babe, if i trust you, i won’t buy any”

you rolled your eyes when you heard him and you crossed your arms. it was at night and you were at the mall. even though you didn’t like going out at night, it was the perfect time so you wouldn’t be discovered.

“oh my god, don’t be mad”

“i’m not mad, i’m just giving you advice and you answer me like this”

you heard how he let out a laugh under his breath. “you get angry so fast”

“i learned it from you”

“my dear girlfriend is angry, what can i do to take away her anger?” he said as he approached you to hug you. you rolled your eyes and saw how his mask went down and began to kiss you on your face.

you began to give them several blows on his shoulder and walked away from him. “they’re going to discover you!”

“can’t i kiss my girlfriend?”

“sunoo”

you heard his laugh and left the cream in their position and grabbed your hand to leave the store. after going through several stores and buying you a couple of things, they were coming out of this one, but you couldn’t help but feel persecuted.

“will you go to eat at my mother’s house tomorrow?”

“yeah” you said uncomfortable looking around. “you don’t feel something weird, love?”

“yes, i felt it a while ago but I didn’t want to tell you. we should go back home”

you covered your face more with your hat and they both hurried their pace, but the discomfort didn’t go away.

“it’s a sasaeng, y/n”

you closed your eyes.

“these photos will be on twitter tomorrow, sunoo. what will we do? they will hate both of us, you and your group. they will criticize me for not being enough for you.” you covered your face with fear. “i don’t know if i can stand it”

“don’t say that, love. don’t”

“sunoo-“

“i think the best thing would be for me to reveal us.”

“what?”

“yes, y/n. it’s better. people will be able to understand us better and my fans will not feel betrayed.”

“i don’t know, sunoo”

“i won’t say anything if you don’t want to, but i think it’s better for us to reveal it.”

you touched your face nervously and nodded scared. “you’re right”

“i will protect you, don’t worry”

“yeah, that’s what i was supposed”

after that conversation, you arrived at your house and your boyfriend stayed up all night thinking about what to go up.

once you woke up, your boyfriend wasn’t there, the first thing you did was pick up your cell phone and enter Twitter.

sunoo in trend on twitter.

@/enhypen4life i cannot fuckin believe it???? sunoo with a gf? that’s surrealist

@/sunoowife if he chooses his girlfriend before his fans and group i hope he retires we don’t want a fake in the group

@/aprettyengene that’s crazy fr but we support <33

“engene

i really don’t know how to start this, i’ve been awake all night thinking about how you were going to react, how to tell you this without some feeling hurt, but I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s inevitable.

engene, i’m in love with my girlfriend. a few years ago i met the woman who now has me crazy, i can say that o love her. for this very reason, i ask for your understanding and empathy towards us.

i’m sorry if I’ve caused any discomfort.

my love for engene will not change. thank you.”

정원

it’s supposed that in your contract it said that you couldn’t maintain any kind of love relationship with the group you worked for. but for you and jungwon didn’t care.

you started working on hybe with le sserafim under source music, but due to internal problems, they transferred you to belift to work with the enhypen group.

at first you were a little scared, being transferred elsewhere and working with pure men did not make you very happy. but the first time you entered they were all very kind to you, and they were in their own world, without giving you importance.

but you were wrong, when you thought everyone was busy in themselves, jungwon was watching you.

he already knew you since before, he had seen you monitoring le sserafim in one of the awards, and fuck, you were beautiful.

jungwon didn’t believe in love at first sight, but when he saw you, he could confirm it.

jungwon always tried to get you talking, he always wanted to be by your side, but you treated him the same as the others. but you weren’t stupid, it’s very easy to know when a boy is interested in you, and he was too obvious.

seeing those little flirtations by jungwon made you gradually start to like it, but that was against the contract, you couldn’t.

one day, jungwon called you to touch up his makeup, even though you weren’t a makeup artist. you knew you couldn’t do it, but you still were.

you were in front of him, make-up his lips, your heart was beating faster than normal and your hands didn’t stop shaking. and to top it all off, jungwon whispered.

“you are so pretty, y/n. did you know that?”

you rolled your eyes and separated from him, trying to leave the room, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled towards him.

“do you know what will happen to me if they find out, jungwon?”

“then let’s try not to let them find out”

and with that phrase, you had been dating him for a year and a half. it had been difficult at first, since the looks that jungwon threw at you were not very disguised. but you managed to hide it.

now you were sitting on his lap and with your head resting on his chest.

“i don’t want to work today” you whispered.

“i can tell them to give you a few days off.”

“yeah babe, you can also tell them that we are dating.”

“i’m serious, you’ve worked so hard in these last few months. you need a break.”

“you need a break too”

“after the tour we can go on vacation, to the Jeju island”

“really?”

“yes, after tour we’ll have a little rest, we can go to jeju island”

“oh my god, jungwon! thank you so much” you said between kisses.

“sweetie, in twenty minutes we’ll go on stage, i need to go.” he said grabbing your waist to get you up.

“good luck”

your boyfriend went to get ready to go on stage and you sat down again to wait to see the concert. what you didn’t expect was to see one of the employees enter the room angry.

“so that’s why you work here, right?”

“what are you talking about?”

“aren’t you ashamed to break your contract?”

“what?” you said approaching your partner. “i don’t know what you’re talking about”

“don’t be silly” he said giving you the phone.

your eyes were filling with tears as you read.

they had created a thread on twitter exposing your relationship with Jungwon. you saw clips of him staring at you, smiling at you with hardly any reason, of him barely touching your waist. they were few clips, but they were enough to agree with him.

“do you know what it will mean for you and for others? they will fire us because of you, do you know how much he had to sacrifice to be working here?”

“i’m so sorry” you said taking the tears off your cheeks in vain, since you didn’t stop crying.

“internet people are right, you’re a profiteer and selfish person. i don’t know how we couldn’t realize it before”

@/jungwonwifey are these the people who hire hybe? I don’t know who is worse if she for taking advantage of Jungwon or he to go out with her

@/enhypenloves and he is the leader? wow congratulations to enhypen for having the worst leader in the world

@/life4enhypen i just hope they fire her and that jungwon learns from his mistakes

you cannot stopped crying. your fear had come true. all for being so stupid.

you had put yourself and your colleagues in danger. you weren’t rich, you needed this job, however you broke your contract.

“i’m so sorry, truly sorry.”

you felt how he took your arm tightly. “you will go to the boss and ask them not to fire us. It’s the least you can do for us.”

“what’s going on here?” you listened behind your back. “y/n?”

you felt how your partner let you go and you felt warm hands caressing your back.

“you okey?” you heard your boyfriend’s voice.

“she broke her contract, jungwon. i know you know it very well.”

“and do you think you have the right to treat her like that? mistreat a woman like that? mistreat my girlfriend?”

“jungwon… she-“

“i don’t wanna see you. the only one who has breached his contract has been you for believing that you have more power than the others. leave.”

once he left, your boyfriend turned you around to be in front of him and grabbed your cheeks with affection.

“he’s right, jungwon. i never had to go out with you, i knew this day was going to come but I never cared. it’s all my fault”

“it’s our fault. i love you, y/n, more than you think. i cannot let you go. i care more about you than all those people out there because without you i’m nothing.”

“jungwon-“

“let me fix this, please, don’t leave me”

you nodded uncertainly while he wiped your tears. a few seconds later he kissed you on the forehead and ran out of the room.

you sat worried. it took a few minutes until you realized the wonderful plan your boyfriend had.

“engeneee, the concert hasn’t started yet but i want to tell you a couple of words before starting, i shouldn’t be doing this but I must do it for myself and for you. my artistic and private life are two different me, and i would like the private one to be for me.

just a few minutes ago i just found out that my private life has been exposed on social networks, i was thinking about what to do, since i shouldn’t give any explanation of my love life, but I want to give you an explanation in case some have felt offended and to protect my partner. engene, i have a girlfriend, and i’m very much in love with her, it’s one of the reasons why i am who i am today, and I would like to tell you to respect for her. she is not a public figure, i don’t want any negative comments towards her. i hope engene supports my decision and understands me. people who don’t, will attend to the consequences. thank you very much.”

니키

you hated ni-ki with all your soul.

you weren’t good at anything, neither in studies, nor in extracurricular activities. you were only good at dancing. you were the best in your class, and so you lasted many years. until he arrived, ni-ki.

at first you thought you were going to get over it over time, that always happened, a new person came and showed his dancing skills, but you always end up being better than that person.

you thought it was going to be the same with ni-ki. but it wasn’t like that, even though you spent more hours in the studio than him, even though you were more disciplined than him, you never got over him.

and ni-ki loved that, seeing how he was always better than you despite all your effort. he loved seeing you angry, he loved fighting with you. he loved you.

it was a relief for you when he went to Korea, you were the best in the academy again.

you didn’t hear anything from him for years, even though you danced at his family’s academy. you didn’t want to know anything about him.

until one day you had to dance with one of the most famous groups internationally and in Japan. you had heard of them, but you were never fully interested.

you were excited, it was a pleasure to dance with one of the most famous groups in your country.

until you saw ni-ki.

you couldn’t believe it, of so many groups there were, ni-ki had to be in this one?

but that wasn’t the worst. the group had reincorporated the dancers of the famous song ‘bite me’ and... you were the dancer of ni-ki.

at first you acted like you didn’t remember, but you couldn’t help but stare at him sometimes. he was so different, more mature, taller, more masculine. sometimes you asked to yourself if he was the same one you knew.

and of course, ni-ki was so excited to see you. in part, it had been his fault. he had recommended his family’s academy, and especially you, saying that you were one of the best dancers in Japan.

you tried to keep your hatred towards him intact, but ni-ki didn’t cooperate. he stared at you for minutes, ‘unintentionally’ grabbed your waist tightly in one of the steps, and always bothered you saying that you didn’t take the steps well.

one day, at his request, they stayed in the practice room to ‘correct’ your steps, or rather to make fun.

“i’m still better than you”

that day you had pushed him hard and shouted angrily at all the injustices you had received when he appeared. you had told him that you hated him with all your heart.

“do you really hate me, uh?”

“i hate you with all my heart, ni-ki.”

that day, he had silenced you with a kiss, a kiss from which you did not turn away, despite repeatedly telling him that you hated him with all your soul.

“are you still hating me?”

since that day, you had had a romantic relationship with Ni-ki. and despite everything, you didn’t regret it.

now you were in the practice room, on the floor at a considerable distance from Ni-Ki. he had spent the whole hour mocking you and now you were angry with him.

“my sweetie girl is angry with me?”

“ugh, don’t call me like that”

you felt behind your back how he approached and hugged you from behind while giving you several kisses on the cheek.

“what can i do to get my girlfriend to forgive me?”

“maybe leave me alone”

“oh, come on, sweet, don’t be bad”

you rolled your eyes and turned your head to see him head-on with a pout.

“you’re the only bad here”

you felt how ni-ki’s hand rested on your waist and gave circles.

“i’m sorry babe”

“it’s not enough”

“what else do you want me to do?”

you smiled and you sit in his lap while you kissed him.

you raised your hand and gently stroked his hair, while ni-ki’s hand was around your waist.

before advancing in the act, they both heard the sound of Ni-ki’s cell phone. he separated from you and you pouted a little.

“wait a moment, babe” he said accepting the call.“jake, i’m busy, what happened?”

you could see how your boyfriend’s face changed to one of concern. you frowned when you saw him.

“what? that’s not true, isnt it?” ni-ki ran his hand over his face. “fuck, hyung i don’t know. yeah goodbye.”

“love? what is happening?”

“they know”

“what they know?”

“us. they know abour our relationship”

“what?” your heart had stopped, how had they been discovered? “riki?”

you looked at your boyfriend’s cell phone and you could see a photo of you two kissing in a parking lot.

“riki?” you took the phone out of his hands.

@/iamnikiwoman WHO’S THAT BITCH omg ni-ki is mine wtf who is that woman

@/loveenhypen well idk what to say hybe do something????

@/nikisbitch tf??

“they’re insulting us, riki.”

“don’t look that” he said taking the cell phone out of your hands.

“love? what-“

“let’s take a photo, i will publish in weverse.”

you let out an ironic laugh. “you’re crazy.”

“i’m talking serious. the company won’t do anything to protect me, let’s do that.”

“ni-ki, i’m stil on your lap, your fans will be angry”

“i don’t care, babe. if you don’t want to do that i understand, but i don’t know what more to do”

you sighed and nodded. “let’s do that”

in the photo you were still sitting on his lap and ni-ki’s hands on your waist. in the photo you couldn’t see your face, despite being revealing your relationship he wanted maximum privacy for you.

“i love this woman and nothing will change this”