#bed of roses part 4

[dawnwriterimagines]

Innocents among you

Part Two to TRAITORS AMONG US

SIMON RILEY X FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 X FEM!READER

Summary: Your torture is over, but is it really? There is only the torment in your mind now. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the flowers at your hospital bed and the tormentors awaiting the relief of your forgiveness.

Part 3!!

Part 4

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

You flatlined twice, almost as soon as you were handed off to the medics.

Committing themselves to doing CPR before bringing in the defibrillator for an electric charge to your sudden cardiac arrest. "Clear!" They restarted your heart just outside the hallway of your cell, Simon held back by Price as your heart stopped again within the same minute and panic ensued. Johnny and Kyle hearing the news, rushing up towards the hall, their footsteps probably the echo that you held onto as your heart rate picked back up.

Clearly, you lived.

You didn't have the luxury of going comatose immediately after. As you would've preferred.

You'd awoken hours after the medical team carried you off to the infirmary. Still on edge, still plagued by discomfort and cold, despite the lights of the recovery facility and the nurses that paraded around you.

Morphine wears off in about 6 hours, so you were up wailing in agony within the same time. Clearly no one expected you up so soon, but you hadn't slept in days, at least not more than an hour. Jerking up involuntarily, hands all over you to keep you down and steady, you could hear a familiar doctor's attempt to calm you down. But, the blistering pain that radiated from every pore in your body was ringing so loud, a present noise that blocked everything out.

So, at first, you'd been terrified, attempting to clutch onto the first thing you'd woken up to. But, you couldn't move, at least not voluntarily.

With the damage to your spine for countless hours, days, and what you had discovered to be two fucking weeks of endless torture, you'd undergone three difference corrective surgeries that would 'possibly' fix the nerve and circulatory damage done to you. It had left you nearly completely immobile since your admission into the infirmary. The doctors were quite astonished that you were even alive...

The nurses were patient enough with your panicked state to slowly ease you out of your stupor. But, at times it wasn't easy, especially when you didn't even know where you were at first. Since you couldn't see...

You were blind for about four days. Everything a tinted red for a few more after you'd regained your sight.

Fevers plagued you for the week, skin that was raw and inflamed from the severe cold and constant dousing from the pipes, you couldn't move if you wanted to.

The first thing you'd been graced to see were the multiple arrangements of flowers, lilies, white tulips, hydrangeas, roses...typical assortments of regret and remorse.

"Can someone throw these away?" had been your first words.

The nurse who had been checking over your vitals looks over at the flowers, the were all over the desk, even on the floor lining the windows, once they ran out of space to put them. It was beautiful. But, she knew why. Everyone knew why. You were quite famous here in the infirmary, as you were in special unit. "Of course."

They were out within the day. The room bare once more.

And then you saw them outside your infirmary window. Just a glimpse. Around the time you were still getting your sight back.

Seeing them for the first time since everything made bile build up in your throat, a screaming fear that created a pulsing headache.

Kyle, Johnny, Price and...you didn't see Simon.

Price was...a statue. Not moving an inch. His hand against his mouth, covering up the aching distress anyone could see on his face.

Kyle was pacing, back and forth and back and forth. Making an offhanded comment at one of them every few seconds.

But, Johnny was talking, pointing spitefully at someone out of your view.

He was there too then. Simon.

Turning away from the window, you couldn't look at them anymore.

"Don't let them in," you breathe out to your doctor as she sets down a trayed mug on your sliding table as she sits you up to drink a hot cup of tea, which you had requested. "Any of them. Please." You were still so cold, you couldn't imagine dealing with any type of cold weather for a while after dealing with this.

She's confused a moment, before turning to the doorway, where she recalled seeing the four men waiting outside in the hallway. She's seen them just sitting there for days now, they wouldn't beg or argue to come in, they'd just wait. It's not like you were cleared for visitors yet anyway.

Every morning she clocked in for the job, there they were. Sitting there like abandoned children, awaiting the moment the door would open to be welcomed inside.

It was like they never left.

Of course she knew who they were to you. Word spreads fast on the base. Especially for a Task Force as 'famous' as they were around here.

Squeezing your shoulder, comfortingly. Feeling protective, your doctor spoke, "Of course," she slides the mug forward a bit, taking the teaspoon to stir once and lift it to toward your lips to sip. "Blow," she guided.

You did. And sipped.

And it was warmer than any blanket they'd wrapped you in.

---

Prior to being able to trudge around on your own, with the help of a crutch you'd been given to go to the bathroom by yourself finally, the nurses had sponged you down in bed. Your spinal surgeries led to you being at risk if they made efforts to remove you from your bed for anything more than a medical emergency.

Mostly, because you're terrified of the showerhead....and it's pathetic, but no one judges you for it as you opt for a sponge bath every time instead. Even if you're shaking as the water slides down your skin even now. The last thing you needed on top of all this was to develop aquaphobia.

Today was the first day you could do it on you own, limping your way to the bathroom with your crutch. The smell of bleach is much stronger in here, it stings your nose.

You stared at the metal stool left tucked at the side, walking around it as if it would pounce up and attack you, you try not to look at it. You'd been doing well without panic attacks for a few days now, just hold it together.

Taking a breath, you reach out to the handle for the spout, glancing up at the showerhead, before back down. Swallowing thickly when you begin to turn it before pausing, hearing the water rush up the pipe to spill out. Turning it back up just as quickly, shutting off the pipe, you inhale deeply, trembling now, hand up to the chilled tile to steady yourself.

You'll try again, you had to.

Drip...

Drip...

Unable to help yourself, the sudden rush of paranoia that runs through you is terrible, a hoarse cry leaves you. You shove yourself away from the shower stall, back ramming into the doorframe, catching yourself, and away from the showerhead as the water drips, slowly from the faucet.

Drip...

Drip...

As panic tightened its grip around your chest, your breaths quickly turned to short, sharp gasps. The room spinning, colors blurring into a dizzying whirlwind. You turn swiftly, nearly knocking yourself off your feet as the thudding of your own heart startles you, you can hear it in your ears, in your hands, in your feet.

You press a trembling hand to your chest, clawing over the area, trying to slow the frantic pace of your breathing, but it only seemed to escalate. The small room narrowing to a black hole of fear and suffocation, every gasp began to disorient you, turning lightheaded.

As tears welled in your eyes, you collapse against the side wall, sliding down to the tiled floor. Slamming your palm against your chest, once, twice, as hot tears leave streaks down your bruised face, you beg your lungs to expand and wait for your breathing to regulate.

Beginning to sob uncontrollably as you hit yourself in the chest again and again and again, waiting for the moment you found yourself able to breathe.

Why did this have to happen?

You remember the violent swing of the baton against your face, the sting it leaves afterwards, the immediate spotting of bruises forming. The memory startles you, receding back into yourself, back to that day.

"It wasn't me..." you cried loudly, in the empty room. It echoes against the tiles.

Simon wrapping his hands around your neck, staring you down as he squeezed, maliciously. You couldn't breathe as your lover shook with the strength he uses to hold himself back from taking your life.

"I'm sorry," you hiccupped. "I'm--I'm sorry," you're not sure when you crawled yourself into the corner, the lights of the bathroom flickering off dimly from your lack of movement. As you're drowned in darkness, the water dripping from the spout, the cold tile against your skin, it's too much. You scramble upwards, running out of the bathroom.

The automatic lights flicker back on inside, but you're too in your head to notice.

Stumbling down to your knees as you feel the rip of a ruined stitching tearing along your side. "Ah!" comes your startled cry. Making it to the side of your hospital bed, you fist your hand through your sheets, unable to stand yourself up.

Taking pained breaths against the sterile sheets, you bury your head in them, cursing whatever luck you thought you had in this life.

They were your family...

All you had for so many years...

As your breathing slows to distraught, agonized huffs of air, sniffling to yourself as you catch sight of your face in the metal frame of your hospital bed. The dark purple bruises beneath your eyes as the swelling gradually went down, the still bloodshot left eye of yours, the twelve stitches on the left side of your face. So gruesome you knew it would scar you for life, a permanent reminder on your fucking face.

Anger bubbled up inside you at the sight of it. At the memory that would always follow when you'd look at it.

Anger that you hadn't been able to properly feel until now.

Anger that you feared to have until today.

"Are you alright?" the sound of his voice makes you visible tense.

Simon.

He's here.

You don't turn to face him, if you did, you'd revert back to the person you were cowering into moments ago. "The door was open...I just--" he pauses, swallowing thickly. "Lemme help you up."

Hearing his footsteps suddenly moving closer, you speak fast. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" you scream over your shoulder, tucking yourself further away from him. "Do NOT move."

He stops in his tracks. You catch the sight of him in the metal framing of the bed, he's a blur in the metal, but you notice his mask is gone, he's Simon Riley now, not Ghost as he appeared to you in the interrogation cell.

"Don't you dare get any closer," you spat.

"I heard you," he spoke, carefully. Mouth opening and closing, before speaking again. "But, you don't have to be stubborn. If you stay there any longer you could tear your stitches."

"Whose fault is that?"

Simon shifts his stance on his feet, waits a second. "I know. And I can never begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did. What we all did to you," he says, quietly. "The intel we discovered...or that was forged, it came from a source we've used a dozen times, (Y/n), we thought it was true. It had to be. We've never been misled before."

"So..." your nails bite into your skin, you make an amused sound, biting down on your lip for a moment, till it hurt. " That's what you came here to say, huh? What you waited days to--. Is this you justifying--"

"No, (y/n), that's not--"

"--why you tortured me, strangled me, stripped me, in that fucking cell, Simon?"

"We had to believe it, at the time..."

"Was I not a trusted source?" you argued. "Had I not proven more than a thousand times that you could trust me? I've fought next to you, laid in your bed, given you my love, my trust, I--" you shook with rage at the time and energy wasted on time family, this relationship, if the end goal was always meant to just be this.. "I thought that was at least half the reason you decided to marry me..." at the mention of your relationship, you could see the way Simon nearly lost his balance, hands coming up to run along his face. "You told me you would kill me in that room..."

"I was just talking, I wouldn't have--" his voice cracks as he whispers, trying to convince.

"When you left, I thought you'd come back to kill me any minute, or Price, to spare you. I waited to die for two days, terrified out of my mind. I wondered about heaven, not if I'd make it... but what it'd be like, what I'd be missing out on," you thought back to your time in that cell, a haunted expression Simon couldn't see. "While you all got a good nights rest, woke up for some bacon and eggs, and listened to the warden tell you that your prisoner was framed...for a crime you'd already punished her for..." you stuttered on your breathing, tears flowing silently.

Simon inhales deeply. "I could never expect you to forgive me. I-I had taken my hurt out on you, I thought you did it, I was so sure. I couldn't hear what you were saying, I just could see the evidence, and I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love. I'm truly--" he gets to his knees behind you.

"Get up."

"I can never tell you how sorry I am---"

"Simon."

"I never should've done this to you. If I could ever--" his voice rising with distressed breaths, you didn't have to look at him to see his face a mess of sorrow, tears that would mix into the stubble on his face.

"Simon!"

"--make it up to you. If you could ever find it in your to forgive me, (y/n). I'll spend the rest of my life--" he gets closer, reaching out.

Whipping around, stiffening completely as you feel the graze of his fingers across your skin, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" you shove your back against your bedding, your hand swinging and flying across his face. His head snapping to the side as he pauses, freezing up where he kneels, having completely forgotten your request to stay put. "What's the matter with you! Even now? Even now, you can't just listen to this one thing?!"

"I-I'm sorry..." He looks at you, finally seeing your face clearly and up close since it all happened. Finally he can see the bruises along your face, the blood that fills your eye, the dark bruise still around your neck.

Seeing him. He looks rough. Honestly, he looks terrible. His hair shaggy and falling over his eye. Dark circles with bags under them. Pale, and thinner than he should be.

His jaw clenches with guilt and he averts his eyes, you continue. "How could I forgive you for this?" you stare at him, "I could forgive you, if you hadn't let them chain me up like an animal. If you hadn't watched them drown me for hours, beat me black and blue and left me screaming for days. I could forgive you if you had just believed me even for a moment." you feign thoughtfulness. "How about you look at my face. My wrists. My legs! MY FUCKING SPINE, SIMON!"

"Nothing I can say or do, will ever make any of it ok, I know that. And I can't ask for you to ever forgive--"

"What could I possible owe you in this life, that makes you think I'd even think about forgiving any of you for the things you did to me?" you gritted out, angrily.

Simon's head drops, a slow, shuttering sigh leaves him. "I'll never stop trying to make this right. Never."

"...Get out, Simon."

"I'm sorry."

"Simon."

"I'm so sorry..." he reaches out again.

"Ghost."

He's silent this time, fingers tensing, out in mid air.

"I never wanna see you again."

"I love you, (Y/n)," he confessed, eyes feral and wide. Pulling at the ends of your slip.

"I don't want to hear that, Ghost," kicking away from him. "Stop it."

"I couldn't stop even as it happened--"

"Shut up. And get out," shaking as you sneered at his desperate attempts. "It's over, Ghost."

"And I took it on you. It hurt so much, I couldn't think," Simon's face twisted with agony and remorse. "I'm sorry!"

He was making you lose your goddamn mind, you broke. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" screaming at one another as overwhelming tears escaped your eyes.

---

It's quiet in your hospital room, it's empty now, the door closed this time.

The door knob turns and opens again a moment later. "Oh no, Ms. (L/n)!" luckily it was your assigned nurse, who takes your arm and fixes it around her shoulder before helping haul yourself up to your feet. "What're you doing on the floor? There's a call button for a reason," she scolds as you sit on the edge of your bed.

You're quiet.

Alarmingly so for your nurse, who notices the pulled stitching that creates a line of blood down your side. "If this is about what happened to you..." the nurse started, speaking carefully, pulling a lining of gauze from the side to press to your skin. You don't even wince at the pressure, even when she begins to clean and replace the broken stitch. "Don't let it break you. Not even further than this experience already has..." she says, while through the last stitch and prepping a bandage.

"I've been broken long before this," you whispered, looking towards the afternoon sun shining through your window. "This. This didn't break me, no," you admitted, before glancing up with glossy eyes, rage hidden beneath a profound look of sadness. "It destroyed me."

Her hand pauses at your side, your words startling, turning to see the tear that slips down your cheek. Knowing now how deep your scars were from this, before gently sliding the last of the bandage across your skin. "Do not think you are irreparable. That time can't heal your wounds."

"But, there's always reminders," touching the stitches on your cheek, "some things can't be forgiven."

"I never said to forgive..." the nurse interjected. "If you could, after all this, you're stronger than any woman that could be named."

You snicker at that, humming soundly. "That's an interesting thought. I guess I'm one of the weaker ones then."

"And yet, still the strongest I've ever met," she finishes. Pats your cheek, "click the button next time. Save us both the heart attack."

"Noted," you assured.

As she's prepping to leave for her rounds, you open your mouth, once, twice, before clearing it. "Is it possible, someone could help me out--the water..."

"Of course," the nurse says, quickly. "Don't worry, I understand. I'll get everything set for you."

As she walks away, you breathing out your appreciation, you take a long inhale, swallowing down the heaviness in your chest.

part 3 OUT NOW!!

Tag List:

@m3ntally-unstable @dreamsarenicer @ttsbaby01 @theweirdgeninistuff @shelbycillian @azxulaa @kthehoeforfictionalmen @amusling @v1x3n @nobodycanknoww @thesinsoflust @asexualbuthorny @poisonedsultana @blackhawkfanatic @character---obsessed @yunggoblin @teenagellamaangel @hanniebanggi @nym-phos @gastonlover9000 @lyssa-211 @doodle-cat16 @haven-1307 @kneelforloki @delphiakira @just-going-through-the-motions

[lxnarphase]

guide you all the way down, be your nightlight

up to the challenge : ⌞no nut november⌝ edition [ pt 1 - pt 3 - pt 4 ]

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : nanami kento + h. hiromi + k. choso

☾₊‧⁺...cw : fingerfucking, squirting, dirty talking, begging, deep throating condom breaking, excessive cum, riding, kento being lovey-dovey, hiromi nearly loses his mind, choso being whiny and desperate, reader is on birth control but choso is just worried about the mess of no condom, choso's part is very long and indulgent

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : to the anon who requests choso and nanami, i hope you don't mind i threw higuruma in here too, i really wanted to include him since he gives the vibes of being in the middle between nanami and choso 🖤 thank you so much for the request !

✧ n. kento lasts : entire month

you were the one to bring this up to kento, mentioning in passing that gojo wouldn't shut up about this 'challenge' he and geto were going to participate in. with a hum, he asks if you were trying to suggest something to him. if you wanted him to try this little 'game,' he wouldn't mind...as long as you'd let him pamper you all month. and he really does; he's breezing through each day as though nothing is wrong. kento's still as sweet as ever, constantly cuddling you, taking you out on formal dates, and telling you how much he loves you. he manages well the entire November, only showing weakness whenever you try to tease him. but of course, if you're going to try and break his streak, he just spreads you out on the bed, fingerfucking you until you squirt all over his hand. eventually, the whole month flies by, and kento genuinely feels relief that it's over. but he's a little shocked when he comes home, and you're dressed in a pretty, yellow matching lingerie set as you drag him into the bedroom that's filled with candles and roses...he pampered you all month, now it was his turn to be pampered.

"kentooo~" having you between his legs like this, cooing his name so sweetly, causes a shiver to shoot down his spine. you look so adorable, so gorgeous on your knees and pressing kisses up and down his length. those pretty kiss marks would be burned into his mind for weeks. but what makes his stomach flip the most? is that look in your eye. that needy, desperate, loving gaze...it made his cock twitch in your hands. "darling, please," he sighs, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek. you smile at him, you fucking smile at him like you aren't peppering his cock in kisses. with a little nip to his thumb, you giggle, nuzzling into his palm. "just focus on me, okay, ken?" he nods, sucking in a breath when your lips press against the tip of his dick. "fuck, princess, god, when you suck me down like that-!" the calm, sweet environment was gone now, with the way you sloppily sucked his cock. it was so fucking messy, your lipstick smearing all over his shaft as your manicured hand cupped his balls, softly massaging them as you felt your spit dripping down to your hand. "yes, yes, just like that, princess, k-keep going. oh, you're so fucking beautiful with my cock in your throat, 'm gonna cum soon in that pretty throat," he oh-so gorgeously moans for you, throwing his head back as he tries not to buck up into your hot mouth. for being such a refined, put-together man, kento loves when you give him such messy head, seeing how your lipstick is smeared everywhere, your chin dripping with precum and saliva. you could feel him throb in your throat just from the view. your kento is so sweet like this, doing his best not to fuck your mouth. but could anyone blame him when your mouth is so hot and wet? god, he never wants you to stop, not when you make him feel so greedy. each time you take him down your throat, kento swears he's going to cum, his head lolling back again as he lets out a deep groan of your name when you take all of him down like it's nothing. he wanted nothing more than to grab you by your hair and fuck your mouth like he wanted...but he wouldn't. no, he's going to keep letting his darling pamper him how she wants...but when he keeps just moaning your name so sweetly, begging you to let him cum... "p-please, honey, I'm so close, let me cum, my pretty girl, let me cum, I'll do anything-!" how could you say no to that?

✧ h. hiromi lasts : entire month

by the end of the first week, hiromi realizes how much he fucking regretted doing this. dealing with his cases has him so stressed he's surprised he didn't go completely grey. every time he comes home, he just wants to love on you, his darling little wife, but he can’t because he’s already dedicated to beating this foolish challenge. so while he can't cum, he is sure to take his frustrations out on you. but it literally crushes him each time he makes you cum, whether it be with his hands, mouth, or dick, and you look at him with those cute pleading eyes, softly whining for him to let you take care of him and make him cum too.

you are too cute for your own good, nearly causing hiromi to cave in several times as the month progressed. even you can see how it was affecting him, as he gets more and more desperate to make you cum, his eyes always zeroed in on your face to ensure your feeling good. he was a prideful, strong man, but fuck, he was so frustrated and pent up that he started to beg you to cum. "you're close, right? i can feel it, sweet thing. just listen to your pussy, she's so wet and sloppy, just from my fingers," he groans into your ear, sounding so wrecked and needy, and he hasn't even touched himself once. but you can hear it, the annoyance in his tone. hiromi is so close to breaking, to giving up and you nearly beg him again to just fuck you, but your eyes catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. 12:27 am. it was december. he did it, he fucking made it, and you were desperately clawing at his wrist, trying to get his attention. "'romi, 'r-'romi! 's december, you made it, please, pull it out, t-take your dick out, 'romi, need you in me so bad!" with a quick glance to the clock to make sure you weren't fucking with him, hiromi lets out a delirious laugh, undoing his pants enough to pull his throbbing cock out, and he easily folds you in half, sliding his tip through the sopping wet mess between your thighs. "i made it, didn't i? i made it. so now you're gonna reward me, right?" you squeal when you feel the tip of his cock get caught on the entrance of your hole and nudge in juuust enough for you to cry out his name, gushing from the little stimulation it gives you. "look at you...I've been neglecting this little cunt, my fingers aren't enough, my mouth isn't enough. no, no, she needs t' be stuffed with a thick, fat cock to make 'er cream...isn't that right, angel?"

✧ k. choso lasts : 30 minutes

choso was stupid. he was so fucking stupid for even thinking he could do this challenge. he literally heard about it from yuuji before but had no idea what it meant. so here he was, looking at the calendar on his phone. it was mid-morning, and 5 minutes ago, he decided to do this challenge. choso should've remembered that he was a desperate man when it came to you because the second you come out of the bedroom, rubbing your eyes as you sleepily greet your boyfriend, he knows he's fucked. but seeing you in his black t-shirt and likely nothing else and choso let out a shaky sigh. just looking at you has his mind racing with all the different ways he wants to have you. you’d look really cute in his lap with a blissed-out smile on your face. with a needy whine, he stands up, dragging you back to the bedroom as he greedily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and moaning against your lips.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, 'm sorry, you look s' cute, so pretty, m-my pretty baby, y-your cunt is sucking me in—!" choso is a mess, fucking into you from behind. his hands grip your hips, keeping your ass up in the air as his cock abuses your insides, his hot, thick tip smushing against your cervix. he's fucking you into the mattress, his moans mixing with yours and those sweet, wet squelching sounds coming from your pussy, sucking his cock back in with each pull out of you. "moan louder, please? m-move your head, stop muffling yourself w-with the pillow," he whines, his body hovering over yours. you can feel drool dripping from his mouth onto your back, and just the feeling makes your eyes roll back. knowing he was so needy and desperate just to get his dick wet inside of you that he was drooling all over you made your walls clench so hard around him. "c-cho, 's too fucking deep, b-baby, 'm gonna cum," you sob, hands clawing into the pillowcase. instantly, you feel choso grip you harder, barely pulling out of you as his hips slap against yours in a bruising fashion, your body jolting up the bed with how hard he was fucking you. "don' run, please,, don' run from it," he whimpers, choking on a sob as he feels himself twitch inside your gummy walls, his hips stuttering against yours when you keen, pushing back against him when he hits a spot that feels so good. "fuck, f-fuck, 'm cumming, your pussy's so good, so wet, so fuckin' hot, 'm sorry, 'm cumming-!" despite his orgasm rushing over him, he keeps fucking you, his eyes rolling back as he moans your name over and over again, begging you for...something. he doesn't notice the sudden change, but you do, suddenly feeling warm and full inside as he keeps pounding into you. your eyes snap open, and you whine, turning a little to press your hand against his chest. "cho, h-honeyyyy! t-the condom, you broke the condom, you're cummin' in me!' you can't lie, it feels so good, and you feel your head swimming as he pumps thick seed into your needy cunt. it's another minute until he's done, and he starts to pull out but sees how creamy his cock is...and the way the condom is ripped at the top. he...he just came in you. his thick cum was starting to drip out of you, and your hand came up to press against your hole, not wanting to drip it onto the mattress. but he only registered it as you wanting to keep it inside...you wanted his cum? you wanted him to fill up that pretty pussy? he didn't even realize he was speaking out loud, quickly peeling off the broken condom and lining back up with your creamy cunt. "i-i don't mind it, choso, b-but t-take the condom off b-before you-chooo, babyyy, w-wait, that's so deep-!" "s-shhh, s'okay, you can take it, take it for me, 's okay, i always make it fit, i-it fits so good, pretty cunt, 's all mine, 'm gonna cum 'n you over and over again until your a creamy little mess, baby, i-i'll eat it outta you too, promise, promise, just let me stuff you, please!" hm, maybe he'd tell you later this was supposed to be a challenge...maybe not and just pretend like he needed you real bad today.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[nanaslutt]

Thinking about inexperienced Choso accidentally doing the knee thing during a makeout sesh

ʚ cont: afab reader, making out, dry humping, sexual tension, dirty talk, teasing, first time orgasming (Choso), cumming untouched, cumming in pants (Choso and reader)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You lay back against Choso's hard chest, his head on your shoulder and his arms wrapped around your torso as you lay on your bed together, catching up on some show the two of you have been watching. After watching about 4 or 5 consecutive episodes, the familiar "Are you still watching?" question showed on the screen, making you sigh.

"Whoever created this idea sucks, of course I'm still watching." You mumbled under your breath, beginning to lean your body off of Choso's to reach for the remote. Little did you know, Choso had been aching to kiss you all day. He knew the two of you usually ended up sharing kisses when you were alone like this, and each time it happened only increased his neediness for the next time you were together as he began to expect it as he did now.

Choso kept his arms tightly wrapped around your torso, preventing you from leaning forward. You were jolted back against his chest, your eyes going wide when you realized you were stuck. A smile grew on your face when Choso plopped his forehead down on your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he blushed furiously, hoping you would catch on to what he wanted so he didn't have to say it.

You turned your head to face him and cupped his neck with your warm hand, pressing his face against you. "Cho, how am I meant to move when you hold onto me so tightly, huh?" You teased, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Choso's eyebrows furrowed against your skin when he felt the familiar touch of your lips on him. He tentatively raised his head and looked into your eyes, his cheeks already a deep crimson red, eyebrows furrowed in a desperate look.

You kept your hand on his warm neck, feeling his pulse race under your fingertips. You smiled and licked your lips, staring back and forth between his eyes. Choso's breath was already picking up as the tension began to grow between the two of you. Choso swallowed hard as he looked between your eyes and your plush lips, looking like they were begging to be kissed. 

You leaned in ever so slightly, lips grazing against his, your body feeling hot when his arms tightened around your body as you did so. "Tell me what you want Choso." You whispered, your hot breath tickling his lips. Choso's lips were parted slightly expectantly, his breathing now more audible. "I wanna kiss." He replied, his fingers curling into your shirt that covered your stomach. 

You bit your lip, your nose tapping against his as you continued to tease him. "Yeah? You wanna kiss me?" You whispered, turning your head to the side as you readied yourself. Choso's eyes fluttered softly as he nodded, his eyelids already feeling heavy even without touching you. Choso let out a noise of surprise when you pressed your lips against his. His thighs twitched ever so slightly with the need to press his legs together, but you were between them, so he couldn't.

Choso felt his brain turn to mush as you massaged your lips against his, soft barely there sounds getting caught in your throat making him go crazy. Choso never broke the connection even when he released your body in his arms and slowly slid out from behind you, maneuvering your body so you were against the pillows he was just laying against. They were warm with his body heat, feeling welcoming as Choso placed himself between your thighs, on top of you.

Your chest rose and fell heavily as he dragged his large hands up and down your body, your shirt riding up as he played with your sides, touching you everywhere he could. Choso loved kissing, the sensation of his lips intertwining against yours combined with the feel of your body and the sounds you made when you kissed him took over his brain completely, trampling over and pushing out any and all other thoughts.

You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctually, making Choso whine at how good your body felt against him. His hands itched with the need to touch you higher up each time he caressed your torso. Your chest rose and fell heavily against him, your back slightly arching off the bed each time he overpowered his tongue with yours, making you feel dizzy.

Choso was a bit shy when it came to intimate activities, up until he was actively participating in them, then his instincts took over and he became more confident. You and Choso had been dating for a few months and had never gone past heavy petting and kissing, but you would be lying if you said your body didnt ache to go further with him.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and slowly slid them around to his back, grabbing the nape of his neck with one hand while your other disappeared under the collar of the back of his shirt. Choso's eyes rolled back in his sockets at the touch, even though his eyes were closed. He felt that same familiar ache build itself up deep in his stomach, and the position he was in was giving him no relief.

His pelvis was close to being pressed against yours, but it wasn't, leaving his unknowingly throbbing cock to twitch against the confines of his boxers with little to no friction. You lightly raked your nails over the skin of his back, feeling his hard muscles under your hands as the kiss increased in fervor, getting more intense. 

Choso took it upon himself to adjust his position a bit, sliding one of his legs to the side a bit so his pelvis was against the bed and the underside of your thigh. You smiled against Choso's lips, feeling how needy his tongue was getting against yours. You were caught off guard when you felt a strong thigh press firmly against your cunt, making your lips separate from his in an embarrassingly loud whine. 

Choso stopped kissing you to look at your expression, worried he might've hurt you. With furrowed eyebrows and a fucked out expression, you reached both hands between your bodies and pressed them agaisnt his thigh, trying to ignore how hard you were throbbing against his leg. "I'm sorry, are you okay?" Choso gasped, not yet realizing what had happened. 

"Choso, your knee." You whined out breathlessly, pressing against his thigh again, silently begging for him to let up before you lost control. You were already holding back enough. Choso's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked between your bodies to see his thigh tightly against your cunt, and your hands pressing above where you were connected. 

Choso immediately pulled his leg back and apologized, slotting his leg back to its original position. You saw the muscles in his jaw bulge out under the weight of his teeth as he looked away in embarrassment, worried he had ruined the mood. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.. touch you there." Choso apologized, darting his eyes back over to yours every so often.

You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him against your shoulder, forcing his head to be buried in the crook of your neck. This abrupt action surprised Choso, he placed his hands on your hips and waited for you to speak, focusing on how loud your heart was beating against him. "No, it's okay. It.. it felt good." You whispered, turning your head against his ear, your lips grazing his skin.

Choso felt that same familiar heat build-up in his tummy again at your confession, it was getting unbearable. This is usually where the two of you stopped when he felt a little too worked up for his own good. But this time, he didn't want to stop, he wanted to see where this would go. "It felt... good?" He questioned, staring at the bedsheets in front of him as he lay on your shoulder.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear that sent a shiver down his spine. "You can put it back if you want." You suggested, making Choso shut his eyes and take a deep breath. He didn't know much about pleasuring others or even himself, but he knew the type of "good" you were talking about was much like the one he felt when he pressed his crotch against the sheets, or your leg when you kissed.

Choso pulled his head up from your shoulder and brought his face agaisnt yours, a hair length away from your lips. You grabbed his face and looked into his eyes for a moment before you pulled him against you by his cheeks, forcing your lips together in a kiss. The kiss was just as needy and hasty as before as the two of you opened your mouth against one another in a sloppy makeout. 

Choso swallowed hard before he started moving his leg again, trying to remember the position he had it in. When you felt his thick thigh press against your throbbing clit again, you gasped into his mouth, a sound he eagerly swallowed up, his face growing redder at the sound.

You felt dizzy as your back arched against him, your hands once again wrapping around his neck for support. You squeezed your legs around his thigh and relished in the feeling of your clit getting stimulated from the pressure alone. Choso could feel he felt something twitch against his leg, but he had no idea what it could be, all he knew was that it made his own problem feel ten times worse.

Choso started kissing you more intensely, his own cock being stimulated against the sheet and the underside of your leg once more. You whimpered into his mouth, your hips twitching agaisnt him, ever so slightly rubbing your cunt against his leg. "This feels really good." Choso gasped into your mouth, feeling the heat in his tummy boil up within him.

You nodded, making a sound of agreement into his mouth. You felt like you were seconds away from cumming, you couldn't believe how aroused you were. Your whole body burned with pleasure and arousal as you sloppily kissed into Choso's mouth, the kiss being more tongue and teeth than anything.

You felt that familiar pressure build up in your abdomen, making your thighs twitch and your body curl against him. Choso increases the pace of his kissing, his lips now moving jerkily and unceremoniously against your thigh. "Choso-" You whined against his lips, both of you now panting and whining into the other's mouth. Choso felt like something was going to happen, and he didn't want to stop, he needed to feel whatever this was leading to.

His fingers dug into your hips as his lips started parting against yours, as did your own against his. Both of your moans and pants grew silent as you gasped against the other's mouth. It was only still for a moment before the two of you came crashing down. Your body shook with pleasure as you came in your panties, your abdomen curling in against Choso and twitching as you orgasmed on his thigh.

Choso's head fell into the crook of your neck as he came, hot spurts of cum being released into his pants. With each rope of cum he released, his hips would cant involuntarily against your own. Choso groaned and gasped against you, his head going numb as sheer, white pleasure wracked through his entire body and overwhelmed all of his senses. 

The two of you gasped and whined heavily as you came down from your highs, fighting to catch your breath and recover. Your bodies were limp against each other, but you still held each other tight, not wanting to separate just yet. "That felt so... so good," Choso whined into your neck, a shiver wracking down his spine. You nodded against his shoulder, raking your hands through his messy hair. "Uh-huh...so good." You replied, equally as fucked out as you nodded dumbly, breathing heavily with Choso's full weight resting against your body.

[moeyynorris]

She Tastes Like Home

Lando Norris x F!Reader

Warnings: smut (oral f!receiving). That’s it. That’s all it really is. Oh, and it’s not very well edited because I’m lazy. Sorry.

Lando grinned the moment he walked through the hotel bathroom door, fresh and clean from his shower. Practice 2 had been frustrating, but he got info for the team so they could sort out the problems. Things were going to work out, everything was going to be ok.

Which is why you were confused by Lando’s solemn expression… until it clicked.

The two of you had been in Japan for 4 days now, having gotten there a bit early so you could see the sights. But, that was 4 days away from the comfort zone you both called home.

That was it; Lando was homesick.

“Come lay with me, baby,” you begged with a whisper, patting the spot on the bed beside you. A sweet yet devilish smile answered you as Lando slowly made his way over to you. His emerald gaze darkened as he stopped at the end of the bed, taking in your form. His eyes lingered on the white, semi-sheer cami you loved to sleep in. Then, they trailed down to the matching panties, licking his lips.

You re-captured Lando’s gaze. “See something you like, handsome?”

His lips parted as he drank you in. Then, he leaned forward, arching his bare torso over the edge of the bed. His long fingers gripped the sheet slightly as he pulled himself towards you.

A lightly calloused palm caressed your knee, urging it away from the other. Lando bit his bottom lip as he hoisted himself forward one last time, his face hovering over the thin material that hid his prize.

“Lando—“ you breathed, begging him to say something. He peered up at you through curled lashes.

“I love you,” he managed, something between a whisper and a growl. Your breath huffed out of you.

“I love you t—“ your word ended in a low moan as Lando’s finger traced up your clothed slit. He slid his finger up and down, smirking as your body tensed.

Your hummed and gasped as he continued, seeming to enjoy just watching you, how you reacted to his mere touch.

“I need to—“ he groaned as he reached up and tugged your panties down. You lifted up so he could get them completely off you. The moment they were off, he left a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses up each of your thighs. Then, he hovered over your wet heat, his breath sending shivers over your hot skin.

“Lando, please.” Thats all he needed. He slipped a finger through your slick, then another, parting your folds. His thumb found your swollen clit and began to slowly roll circles over the nub. Your back arched as you let out a whimper.

His tongue finally flicked at the glistening flesh, before he flattened his tongue and slowly slid up your folds. “Mmmm,” he hummed, licking the slick from his lips. “You taste like home,” he groaned. He went in for another long taste of you, his thumb quickening its pace.

“Lando, oh—“ you gasp, wiggling under him. His free hand pinned your hip down, holding you still. Then, he replaced his thumb with his tongue, the muscle swirling over your swollen nub.

A raspy moan left you as a finger toyed with your entrance. It entered you, only half way, then he pulled it back out. You bucked against his grasp, desperate for friction. He grinned against your folds, then gave you what you wanted.

Two fingers squeezed their way deep inside you. He pulled them out, then thrusted them back in. He quickly found a rhythm, thrusting and curling while his tongue rubbed and swirled against you.

You bucked and wiggled against him, quickly feeling your release closing in. You reached down, grasping onto his wild curls as he savored you.

His head rose up, blackened eyes meeting yours. “C’mon baby. Cum for me.” Lando licked his glistening lips and grinned, watching your body as it inched closer to bliss. “C’mon my love.” He licked another stripe over your folds before getting back to work.

Within seconds, you felt a throbbing in your core. His fingers, his eyes, his flexing muscles, his tongue. It was all too much.

Your back arched as the first wave hit you. You bucked against Lando’s merciless effort, whimpering and moaning his name as you rode each wave. He continued his dance as you writhed beneath him, grasping his locks, your other hand in the bed sheets.

“Oh my god,” you huffed as you came down. Lando lifted his head and pulled his hands away. You whined at the loss of touch.

“Oh no, Lando is just fine,” he teased, shooting you a wink. You rolled your eyes and whined as you wiggled under him again.

He chuckled. “Oh, impatient are we?” You huffed in frustration. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m just getting started.”

[thewidowsledger]

Looking Out For Two

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: +18, Natasha has a penis, pregnant reader, brief smut, pregnancy, daddy kink, Wanda being a Natasha hater, dark Natasha if you squint, violence, organ trafficking, angst, bad writing

Author's Note: This is not proofread y'all so I might edit, please excuse my silly and stupid mistakes; English is not my first language. A friend requested this to me, they said they requested it to a writer here but unfortunately they went on hiatus, so here I am bringing their ideas to life, xo.

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

You stared at Natasha in disbelief, hurt and anger warring inside of you as you watched her settle in your shared bed.

The words echoed in your mind.

I am with a child Nat…your child.

And suddenly all of the emotions and doubts and fears that you had been pushing aside came rushing back to the surface.

⧗

You paced nervously in your shared bathroom. You had taken not one, but three pregnancy tests, just to be sure. Each one showed the same result: 2 lines=positive. The news had your heart racing. You knew Natasha was coming back today, and the timing of these tests was undeniably nerve-wracking.

"Fuck this…this can't be."

Just as you were contemplating how to break the news, JARVIS’s calm, artificial voice filled the room through the speakers. "Miss Y/L/N, the team has returned. Your partner Agent Romanoff is back."

Panic set in as you realized Natasha could walk in at any moment. You scrambled to hide the pregnancy tests, fumbling with them in your haste. Shoving them into a drawer, you quickly composed yourself, though your heart continued to race.

Before you could even make it through the door Natasha stepped into your shared room, her expression hard and distant. She barely glanced at you as she set her bags down. "Hey," she said curtly.

Your eyes suddenly lost its light when you were welcomed by her cold demeanor. This wasn't the welcome you were used to. Typically, when Natasha came home, she'd greet you with a rose or a small souvenir, accompanied by her warm kisses and affectionate hugs. Sometimes, she would throw you over her shoulder and you ended up tied up in your shared bed. On occasions when you were the one returning from a mission, she would shower you with kisses and hugs the moment you stepped through the door. Sometimes she would even pick you up directly from the mission site, bringing you back to a room meticulously prepared with rose petals on the bed and a luxurious bathtub filled with rose petals and wine. Those gestures always made you feel cherished and loved.

But now, it is different.

"I uhm, I made you cookies baby and your favorite hot chocolate. I know how much you missed them, you know the last time we called…" You scrambled through your words as you noticed Natasha eye you like a predator watching its prey, she slowly dropped her bags and walked towards you.

You were just wearing one of her shirts that is oversized to you and a pink underwear. She reached your face, it was oh-so-gentle, her thumb brushing your cheek, as if you're going to break. She hummed as you talked and scrambled your words. You were falling for her once again as you stared at her eyes…you watched as her eyes slowly dilated. Your eyes grew bigger with panic, but when you were about to pull out from her embrace that's when her other hand gripped your ass and immediately pulled you with a bruising kiss. You moaned, gripping her biceps as her tongue fought its way to your mouth. You felt her hips and her hardened length bucked towards your throbbing core.

"I’ll take a shower." She said as she pulled away, leaving you on edge. She moved past you, heading straight to the bathroom without another word or touch.

You were left alone, gasping for air with an aching heart and a confused mind not to mention the needy ache on your throbbing core. But you immediately brushed your feelings off, you gave her a benefit of the doubt. Missions can be tough at times, you think to yourself so you just went to your shared closet and grabbed some fresh clothes for her to use, you also put some pajamas for yourself.

Couple of minutes after, you went about preparing the bed, expecting Natasha to rest after her shower or maybe you can still talk, you think to yourself once again.

What if she didn't want this?

You screw your eyes shut as you fluff the pillows and tidying up the sheets on your shared bed.

Maybe I’ll just move out and not tell her about it. I’ll just raise our child alone and…I—

You were standing by the bed, lost in your thoughts, when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. You let out a small gasp, startled by the unexpected embrace.

Natasha smirked against your neck as she felt you jump a little in surprise. She enjoyed the way your body reacted to her touch, and the way you were always on edge whenever she was around.

"I don't remember you wearing this pajamas before I got in the shower, hm?" She whispered seductively, she almost growled in your ear. "You seem distracted, baby."

"Daddy can fix that."

"B-but, wait, Natty, love? Can we talk?"

Natasha was on a mission to make you forget about whatever it was that was on your mind, to make you forget about anything else but her. Her kisses and touches were relentless as she continued to explore your body with her cold hands fresh from the shower, slender fingers digging into your waist before going under your shirt and slowly reaching for your nipples.

"We need to talk," you gasped out, trying to push her away. But it was like trying to move a boulder—she was really determined, like she always is.

"No talking," she whispered against your neck. "Just us."

"Nat, please…" You whined as she soothe her tongue that's gently lapping over yet another mark she just made on your skin.

"Please what, baby?" She smirked, when she felt you tried to pull away, she pressed herself firmly against your back.

"We need to tal—"

"Hm, but we're talking now, love. Aren't we?" Not letting you finish your words.

Natasha watched you as you pulled away from her grasp, her expression betraying no emotion as you pleaded with her to talk. She then chuckled low in her throat, clearly enjoying the way you were pushing her away. Her smirk grew wider as she sensed your frustration.

"Come now, love," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Is there really something so important that we need to talk about right this instant? I'm so tired after that mission, I'd rather just relax with you."

Frustration and anger bubbled inside of you, and you lost it.

"No Natasha! We need to talk now," you almost screamed, your voice filled with desperation. "This can't wait."

Natasha paused for a moment, her eyes flashing with irritation as you screamed at her saying her full name. She was not used to it, and for being disobeyed, let alone shouted at.

"And why can't it wait, huh?" she asked, her voice cold and calm as she leaned back against the bed. "It's late and I'm tired. The mission was exhausting and I’ll just sleep now."

You stared at Natasha in disbelief, hurt and anger warring inside of you as you watched her settle in your shared bed.

The words echoed in your mind.

I am with a child Nat…your child.

And suddenly all of the emotions and doubts and fears that you had been pushing aside came rushing back to the surface.

⧗

As you opened your eyes, you immediately noticed the absence of Natasha beside you. Groggy and still half-asleep, you looked around the room, searching for any sign of her. But she was nowhere to be found. You sat up in bed, feeling a wave of nausea wash over you. You rushed to the bathroom and barely made it in time to throw up into the toilet. As you knelt there, feeling weak and dizzy, you realized that you hadn't felt nauseous like this since...since you were pregnant.

After a few minutes, you rinsed out your mouth and stood up, feeling the room spin around you. You braced yourself against the wall, taking deep breaths to steady yourself.

Suddenly, the voice of JARVIS broke through the silence. "Agent Y/L/N, I have been informed that the Avengers have been summoned for a mission today. Agent Romanoff is currently in the meeting room now together with the team."

As you sat there, trying to process the information that JARVIS had given you, the artificial intelligence noticed your distressed state. "Is everything alright, Agent Y/L/N? Do you need me to call Agent Romanoff?"

You quickly shook your head, trying to hide the panic that had surged through you at JARVIS's suggestion. "No, no, that's alright," you said quickly. "I'm fine, really. There's no need to call her. I’ll be there in a minute."

You silently cursed the presence of JARVIS in your room. "Stupid AI," you muttered to yourself. "Why does he have to be installed everywhere in the compound?"

You breathe, touching your tummy before you proceed to clean the bathroom, the sight of the toilet with your puke making your stomach churn, but you pushed through the nausea and cleaned it thoroughly anyway. Once you were done, you cleaned yourself and moved to the bedroom and quickly dressed yourself, putting on your mission gear. Your eyes fell upon the box of cookies that you had made for Natasha. They sat there, untouched, you felt your heart ache once again and a tear rushing down your cheek. You grabbed several of the cookies and stuffed some into your mouth.

As you walked at the compound Wanda saw you, she noticed the tears streaming down your face. "Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, her words carefully chosen.

"My cookies are good, right?" You asked between sobs.

Wanda stood there, stunned by your question and your emotional response, she carefully chose her words to avoid upsetting you further. "Of course they taste good, love," she replied. "Where's Nata—"

But before she could say anything more, you immediately shoved a handful of cookies into her mouth with your free hand, not wanting to hear the name she's about to mention. Wanda's eyes widened in surprise as she tried to speak, but her words were muffled by your sweet cookies.

As you cried and leaned against Wanda, she patiently let you rest on her shoulder. Even with her mouth still filled with your cookies, she gently reached up to pat your head, offering what comfort she could.

"Shh, it's okay," she tried to comfort you, her words slightly muffled by the food in her mouth.

As your tears began to subside, Wanda gently spoke up. "Hey, Y/N, I think they're waiting for us in the Quinjet now." You nodded and managed to compose yourself and brush off the last remaining crumbs of the cookies out of your suit.

The two of you started making your way towards the Quinjet when you saw Maria.

"Cookie?" You offered her.

Maria looked at you and glanced at Wanda that gave her a just take it or else she'll have a tantrum look. Maria looked skeptical at first, but she knew better than to refuse. Reluctantly, she accepted the last cookie from you. Your smile widened as she ate the last crumb of the cookie.

"What's wrong with her?" Maria asked Wanda as they both trailed behind you.

Wanda's reply came in a low hiss, her irritation palpable. "I don't know! She was crying. And I am going to kill your buddy!"

You turned to look at them but just as you turned around, your eyes narrowed as you picked up on the hint of irritation in the voice of Wanda. Their words were instantly replaced with fake smiles as they noticed your suspicious glare.

As the three of you reached the Quinjet you felt a bit more steady now that you had gotten your emotions under control.

You watch Maria and Wanda get past you before you speak silently aloud, addressing the unborn child in your stomach. "Please be good to mommy okay? We're going on a mission now," you said softly. "I promise you, this will be the last one. Afterwards, I'll retire."

The words were meant as a promise to both the child growing inside you and to yourself—this mission would be your last as an agent.

Before the three of you could come in. The atmosphere onboard the Quinjet was tense as JARVIS addressed the team, scanning the three of you. The AI's voice chimed in, breaking the silence.

"There appears to be a pregnant agent among the three of you."

Wanda, Maria, and yourself froze in your tracks, exchanging nervous glances with each other. The revelation had sent a wave of trepidation through all of you.

JARVIS continued speaking.

"Furthermore, it is suggested that they must not participate in this mission. It is imperative that they rest and refrain from engaging in any strenuous activities."

You felt the weight of JARVIS' words settle upon you, the realization that you were in fact the pregnant agent in question sinking in.

"Stupid AI." You muttered as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"That's not me, I just fucked Darcy last night." Maria held both of her hands in the air.

"What the hell? You didn't need to tell us that!" Yelena shouted in disgust.

"I told you they were doing it. Give me my 20 dollars, Sam." Tony celebrated and pointed a finger gun at the Falcon.

Sam went behind Steve and whispered, "Let me borrow 20 dollars."

"My money can wait, Cinderella!" Tony laughed as he patted Sam’s shoulder.

The moment Maria spoke up, causing the team to gag at her blunt revelation, your heart skipped a beat. Everyone's attention was suddenly drawn away from the earlier revelation of this stupid AI, and you breathed a small sigh of relief.

But as you glanced over at Natasha, you could still feel her eyes boring on you. Her gaze was intense, and you could sense her suspicion. The tension in the air was thick as the team attempted to process Maria's blunt statement.

Your heart raced in your chest as you looked at Wanda, silently pleading with her through your eyes. She picked up on your silent plea, understanding the truth that lay hidden beneath your words.

Emotional in the morning, check. Wanda began, as if ticking off a list in her mind. Cookie cravings, check.

This may not be a complete list but I know it's not me.

You watched her standing beside you, she was fidgeting but in her mind everything was just hitting the nail on the head. Then, with a moment of hesitation, Wanda closed her eyes and spoke three simple words.

"I am pregnant."

Your eyes widened in shock as Wanda spoke up. The team wasted no time in congratulating her, enveloping her in hugs and celebrations.

"You're pregnant huh?!" Yelena shrieked in excitement, she was the first to pull her in a tight hug.

"Yeah it's me!" Wanda winced slightly, feeling a pang of guilt for the lie she was covering up on your behalf.

"We have a little witch incoming, yeah?" Steve’s eyes sparkled with joy.

Tony couldn't help but chime in as well, a smirk on his face. "We didn't bet on this one, Wilson."

Sam chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, I know."

As Natasha approached Wanda to offer her congratulations, Wanda's usual soft demeanor vanished. Her anger and frustration with Natasha over the previous situation with you were evident even though she has no idea about it.

"Congratulations, Wanda." Natasha spoke gently, extending a hug.

But Wanda swiftly deflected her affection, stepping back to maintain a distance. "Save it, Natasha," she responded curtly.

Natasha, trying to shrug off Wanda's cold approach towards her, mentally blamed it on the emotions associated with pregnancy.

"Must be those pregnancy hormones," she murmured under her breath.

As the team continues to surround Wanda, she snuck a glance in your direction. You mouthed a silent "thank you" to her, acknowledging the sacrifice she had made. In turn, Wanda mouthed back a quiet, "Take care and the baby," her words carrying a deep undertone of understanding and worry.

Suddenly, Natasha walked towards you and asked, "Are you okay?" she gently touches your arm. But you ignored her question, choosing to remain silent. Your mind was elsewhere, torn between gratitude towards Wanda for what she did for you and a deep desire to keep your own pregnancy hidden from the team and even from the mother of your child.

Without responding to her, you gently shrugged her hand off your arm and moved past her, walking into the Quinjet. You avoided her gaze, not wanting to betray your emotions.

The Quinjet lifted off, leaving behind a scene of excitement and well wishes for the witch. You retreated into the corner, seeking comfort in the familiarity of your own presence.

As the aircraft ascended, you instinctively placed your hand on your stomach, gently caressing the growing life within.

The team received a mission assignment from Fury to infiltrate a hospital involved in illegal organ trafficking, targeting children. The focus was the children's wing, and the objective was to put an end to the operation. It was emphasized that no stone should be left unturned to ensure the safety of the children involved. The intel also suggested the involvement of Hydra's experimentation. While specific details about their latest projects remain undisclosed, their history in this regard is grim.

Maria approached you, her expression was serious as she sat down beside you. "Left wing, that's ours."

"And it's the center of the operation, correct?" You confirmed, a pit of anxiety knotting in your stomach.

She nodded. "That's right. The operation is taking place there. You ready for this?"

You subconsciously once again placed your hand on your stomach and took a good look at Natasha who was piloting the Quinjet.

"Yes," you murmured, though the nervous tremble in your voice gave you away.

⧗

"Guys."

Natasha, Bucky, and Bruce exchanged looks of concern as they heard Wanda's voice through their comms.

"Wanda?" they called in unison.

Bruce was the first to speak. "You shouldn't be on comms right now. You're supposed to be resting. I'll call Dr. Cho to check on you."

Wanda winced at the mention of Dr. Cho, once again reminded of the cover up she had to do…or the lie rather. She knew the truth, but she couldn't reveal it to the others, she's not in the right position to say it.

The three immediately noticed Wanda's distress and exchanged alarmed glances.

"What's wrong, Wanda?" Bruce asked.

"Where's Y/N?" Wanda hurriedly asked.

"She's out now on the mission with Maria." Bucky informed Wanda through comms.

"I knew this was going to happen. Fuck!" Wanda hissed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Natasha's brow furrowed, barely glancing up from her mission report at the mention of your name.

"Bucky, get her back in." Wanda immediately demanded, ignoring the presence of Natasha through the comms.

Natasha’s confusion deepened, and her frustration grew as Wanda demanded someone else to get her girlfriend back to the Quinjet. "And why should he do that?"

"Just get her back in!" Wanda insisted, her voice rising slightly.

Natasha's frustration peaked, realizing Wanda was deliberately shutting her out. But she remained calm, not wanting to distress her, "Wanda, you must be tired. Right now you should be focusing on yourself and the baby. Y/N will be fine, don't worry. She's good at looking out for herself."

Wanda’s irritation boiled over, her patience wearing thin. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath as she whispered.

"She might have a hard time looking out for two."

"What? What do you mean, Wanda?" Bucky asked once more, trying to grasp the meaning behind Wanda’s words.

"Maria can handle herself just fine, Wanda. Y/N doesn't need to look out for her." Natasha responded dismissively, trying to reassure her once again that you don't need to look out for your partner.

But clearly, Natasha knows nothing.

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant, Romanoff! Your girlfriend might have a hard time looking out for herself and for the baby growing in her stomach! So right now, Romanoff I need you to get your girlfriend out on that mission before anything happens to her!" The anger of Wanda echoed through the earpiece of the three Avengers.

"I had to cover up for her earlier, I’m not the one who's pregnant, she was. She doesn't want anyone to know, even you, Natasha, ‘cause it seems like you don't have time to talk about it." Wanda gritted her teeth as she revealed the cover up she did for you.

Then suddenly an urgent call for backup was heard through the comms.

"Back up, we need back up!"

It was Maria, her voice sounding strained and her signal cutting in and out.

"Natasha! Y/N…I can't see Y/N, Y/N is taken!"

Natasha's blood ran cold at Maria's words. The word sent a shiver down her spine, and her heart thumped heavily against her chest. She clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"No," Natasha whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. Fear and anger welled up within her as she heard the words.

Without a moment's hesitation, they heard Tony respond, "I'm on my way, Maria. I'll get there as soon as I can. And you Romanoff, you have to get your girlfriend!"

Wanda hissed harshly to Natasha through the comms, "If anything happens to my bestfriend and my niece I will kill you myself, Natasha. I will fucking kill you myself."

Natasha's jaw clenched at Wanda's harsh words. She knew she was only expressing her fear and concern for you and the baby, but the threat still stung.

She gritted her teeth and muttered a retort.

"I will kill myself if I won’t be able to save them. So save it, Wanda."

⧗

The room was eerily quiet, a chill running down Natasha's spine as she scanned her surroundings. She cautiously stepped forward, her senses on high alert. Suddenly, a figure lunged from the shadows, but Natasha was quick to react. Before they could make a move, Natasha had kicked away their weapon and delivered a swift punch to their stomach.

Another figure appeared behind her, but Natasha swiftly dodged the attack and delivered a well-placed kick to their chest.

As she fought off the attackers, Natasha unsheathed her batons, the metal gleaming in the dim light. With a flick of her wrist, she extended them and began to whirl them around, blocking attacks and delivering precise strikes to vulnerable spots. Meanwhile, she kept her other hand free, ready to use her widow bites at a moment's notice.

Natasha's heart raced as she sprinted through the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps echoing against the cold concrete. Natasha's mind went on high alert the moment she entered the room and saw you lying unconscious on the bed and a doctor preparing some medical supplies beside you. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight, her adrenaline pumping through her veins, making her nerves tingle.

The doctor spoke up, his voice breaking the tense silence in the room.

"You finally came," he said. "Your wife's been waiting for you.”

"Who are you?!" Natasha's voice held a dangerous edge, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the doctor, her gun pointing at him.

The doctor raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, a smug look on his face as he regarded Natasha's gun pointed in his direction.

"Now, now, Romanoff," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern. "You wouldn't want to cause any distress to Mrs. Romanoff here, would you? You might wanna put that gun down."

Natasha’s grip on her gun tightened momentarily before she reluctantly began to lower it. She didn’t want to risk endangering you further by provoking him.

The doctor smirked, clearly amused by her cautiousness. He knows damn well how much power he holds now that he has you captive.

"I'm Doctor Strange. And…I am your wife's doctor for today. She's your wife right? Girlfriend? Partner..? Whore? Whatever you want but I prefer that we call her your wife, okay Romanoff?"

Natasha’s heart plummeted as he pulled out a surgical knife, her fear instantly skyrocketing.

"Don't! Do not fucking touch her, I’ll make you regret it!" she snarled, but he seemed unbothered by her threat.

Strange smirked, the glint in his eyes making Natasha's skin crawl. He began to rip your suit open, exposing your stomach.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, her voice shaking with anger but also fear for you.

The doctor chuckled, his expression smug as he began to apply some ultrasound gel to your stomach, his eyes glued to your bare skin.

Strange's tone was mocking as he asked Natasha a question that cut straight to her heart.

"Did you know she was pregnant?" he asked, as if he were casually inquiring about the weather.

Natasha swallowed hard, she almost choke with her words, "I uh...I didn't..."

"You didn't know until now did you?" Strange chuckled, a sadistic smirk on his face not letting her finish, "Oh, that's a shame," he taunted.

"You are a bad mother."

Natasha flinched as the words hit her, and for a moment, she was speechless. The words stung, even more than any physical blow could have.

Her mind flashed back to the night before this mission. She remembered that you had tried to talk to her, begged her to have a conversation but she dismissed you.

Now she hated herself for that, the realization hit her with a sickening weight, and she silently berated herself for her ignorance. You shouldn't be here if she listened to you.

Strange hummed as he began to move the transducer around your stomach. He looked up at Natasha, a sly smile on his face.

"I wasn't always a doctor, you know," he said, his tone almost nostalgic. "In fact," he continued, his gaze returning to the monitor. "I started out working with Hydra when my sister died."

"You might have heard of them, right? For sure you intel already informed you that. Not exactly the most upstanding group of people." He murmured.

"Oh look at that! That's your baby Romanoff!"

Natasha's eyes flickered towards the ultrasound machine, her heart pounding as she saw a life, her offspring on your stomach. The sight of the tiny, flickering image of the baby inside you softened her expression momentarily.

Strange chuckled as he watched Natasha. He leaned casually against the counter, one hand resting on the ultrasound machine before he got back to examine your stomach once again.

"As I was saying," he continued, his tone casual. "I didn't want to remain a lowly foot soldier forever," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I wanted more power, more control. So I branched out on my own."

Strange pressed the transducer deeper into your stomach, causing you to whimper in pain.

"Don’t—"

The doctor immediately pointed his finger in the air, shushing her.

He then continued, his tone nonchalant, his gaze fixed on the monitor, watching the image of your stomach intently. "I started my own precious business and then…"

"Everything I'd worked for, years of hard work and sacrifice!" he spat out, the pressure of the transducer increased and he watched how it dug deeper to your stomach on the monitor. "And you, Avengers just waltz in like they own the place and ruin it all!"

Strange paused, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. The pressure on your abdomen loosened slightly before he glanced at Natasha, his expression almost apologetic.

"Sorry," he said, his tone smoothing back to its usual calm. "I didn't mean to shout. It's bad for the baby, you know." He chuckled softly, his hand gently caressing your stomach.

Natasha's heart pounded in her chest as she watched Strange's expression shift from calm to enraged in an instant. His words and his behavior were unpredictable, and that made her more anxious. She maintained a facade of calm, her eyes never leaving you.

"Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place." He smiled, an evil one, his eyes flicking up to Natasha, wanting her to take a good look on the monitor.

Natasha's expression remained neutral, her eyes fixed on the ultrasound monitor as Strange pointed out the growing body of your baby.

"Isn't that nice?" he said, his tone clearly a mockery.

"Must be hard," with a sinister edge to his voice. "Knowing there's nothing you can do to protect what's most precious to you."

The doctor's laughter was cold and cruel. But what was truly horrifying was the way his gaze dropped to your abdomen, and he began to caress your stomach with a gesture that made Natasha's skin crawl.

"All you can do is watch and pray I don't do anything...unwanted," he repeated, his tone sickly sweet.

He then slowly grabbed the surgical knife and his eyes scanning Natasha's face for any reaction. A cunning smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he noticed her flinch.

"Oh, did that scare you?" he asked, his voice dripping with menace. "Why are you scared? You're not the one lying on this table?"

He chuckled darkly, waving the knife in front of her face.

Strange's fingers continued to play with the knife, slowly twirling it around in his hand. He seemed to take pleasure in seeing how it made Natasha uneasy. Her breath quickened and her heart pounded against her chest as she watched him.

She tried to keep her emotions in check, desperately wanting to remain calm, but the sight of the gleaming blade in his hand made her instinct scream in alarm.

Strange leaned back, the knife momentarily forgotten in his hand as he turned his attention to your still unconscious form. He moved closer to you, his fingers gently prying your eyelids open.

"Beautiful eyes," he commented, a hint of admiration in his voice. "These eyes could be a valuable asset to the right people."

Natasha's ears perked up at Strange's words, a lump forming in her throat as she realized his intentions.

"What the fuck did you say?"

"Oh, Romanoff. Your baby might hear you curse. You'll kiss your baby with that mouth?"

He moved away from examining your eyes, setting the knife down on the counter. He reached for a file that was among the various medical supplies and paperwork scattered around the room. He flipped through the pages, reading aloud to Natasha.

"Martin Joseph Novarich," he said, his eyes scanning the file. "He's just eight years old. Familiar with the name?”

Strange continued to read from the file, oblivious to Natasha's inner struggle.

"The boy has a rare genetic disorder that affects his eyesight," he said. "He needs a corneal transplant to restore his vision, and the process requires a perfect donor match. And his father, the president, is willing to do anything to save his only child.”

Strange smirked, his eyes scanning Natasha's face.

"Think about it," he said, his tone almost teasing. "Your wife's eyes could give the president's son a new lease on life. Or her liver could help someone else in desperate need."

Her anger flared at his words, her muscles tensing as she struggled to control her emotions when he started listing off your organs one by one, suggesting that it could be used for donation. The thought of your organs being harvested like some kind of donor bank was almost too much to bear, it made her skin crawl, it made her blood boil.

"And let's not forget," Strange added, a sly note to his voice, "that she might have more than just one healthy organ."

"She's an agent," he pointed out. "She probably leads a healthy lifestyle, so her organs are likely in great shape. And I think yours too, Romanoff.”

Strange suddenly put on a fake frown, pretending to be remorseful as he took a glance on your abdomen.

"Oh, my apologies," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "I almost forgot about the poor, innocent child in your wife's stomach." He grabbed a cloth and wiped the gel out of your skin’s abdomen.

He then trailed the knife over your stomach, Natasha's breath hitched in her throat.

"Don't," she hissed, her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare.”

The doctor continued to trail the surgical knife and then he finally nicked the skin on your abdomen, Natasha's face contorted with anger and horror.

"Oops…too late. Just a small one, don't worry." Strange chuckled darkly, his eyes locking with Natasha's. Her eyes trailing between the knife and on your stomach.

A loud booming sound rang outside the room, startling both Strange and Natasha. Seeing an opportunity, Natasha reached for the gun she had to put down earlier. She aimed it at Strange, who slowly raised his hands in surrender.

In a desperate move, Strange pushed your bed towards Natasha, trying to interfere with her aim and make her miss. However, Natasha was too quick and too skilled. She pulled your bed towards her and immediately placed your unconscious state behind her back making sure that your bed was within range.

She immediately turned when she heard a clinking sound. Natasha fired, the bullet hitting Strange in the shoulder.

"I missed." Natasha sighed as she placed the gun at your bed. "That was a very dumb move doctor."

Natasha's voice was icy as she spoke, her eyes locked on Strange's face.

"You know what, doctor?" Natasha set the gun down on your bed. Her hand moved to your cheek, gently caressing it before moving slowly and gently over your stomach, wiping away some of the blood that slowly dripped there.

Natasha walked over to where the doctor was cowering, a surgical knife in her hand. She knelt in front of him trailing the knife in the wounded shoulder.

"I am a great shot when I'm pissed."

She then held his shoulder ignoring his startled yelp of pain, she deftly used the knife to dig deeper into his shoulder, intent on retrieving the bullet lodged there. She extracted it from his flesh.

As she dug deeper, working to extract the bullet, Strange cried out in pain. But instead of feeling any remorse, Natasha felt a deep sense of satisfaction at seeing him suffer. She knew she had the upper hand now, and she was going to make him pay for what he had done to you.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she muttered, her eyes fixed on his face. “I told you, I’ll make you regret...”

"Touching..."

"My..."

"Wife! "

With a final tug, Natasha finally got the bullet with a satisfied smirk briefly crossing her face. Natasha picked up the gun from your bed, loaded the bullet back in the chamber and spun it slowly with a flick of her wrist.

She turned her gaze back to Strange, who was still reeling from the pain. Her voice was low and dangerous as she spoke.

"And doctor," she said, the gun pointed straight at his head.

"I don't waste a bullet. Ever."

Next

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses?

CHARACTERS: OB students (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia & Malleus)

TAGS: Bullet Points; Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 300 words per character.

COMMENTS: This has been a WIP for so long that I don't even remember how I got the idea to write it. And in my case, being a WIP for a long time means that I wrote one part and then went on to write something else and ended up forgetting about this one for a long time. 😅 But now I've finished it.

I hope you enjoy 💋

Meaningful Kiss 2 (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)

Meaningful Kiss 3 (Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia)

Meaningful Kiss 4 (Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook)

CONTEXT: You two are in an established relationship already.

Riddle is not really the PDA type. The most he would do with you in public could be walk arm in arm like you were royalty. In terms of kisses, a kiss on the back of your hand or, at the most, on your cheek.

When the two of you are alone on a normal day, he will probably be working on his student and Housewarden duties. But whenever you tell him he should take a break, he'll get up, sit next to you and hug you, like you're a charger.

If you're relaxing together, he’ll be reading a book with one arm around you. Either around your shoulders or around your waist, which you told him you like the most. He’ll also laying his head on your shoulder.

The most meaningful kisses are, of course, the kisses on your lips. He's not the type to kiss you on the lips just like a "good morning" thing. These kisses are always sweet and lovely. His hands would be on your cheeks to caress them.

He needs you, but his kisses aren't needy. They are the caring type. You are his precious rose. In contrast to his strict self, the way he shows you that he loves you is through soft affection and care.

A relationship with Leona Kingscholar comes with your rights and duties. Some of your rights: He will buy you things; you’re allowed to pet his ears; he will be your protector and you can sleep with him in his comfy bed and have breakfast in bed (he ordered someone to bring it to you two)

Some of your duties: let him use you as a pillow (be it your thighs in the greenhouse or your chest in bed.); don't be too annoying to him; dealing with his “smugness” on a daily basis and being his and his alone, the same way he's yours.

He's kinda into PDA, but more in the sense of telling anyone who might look at you with interest that you're his. Or anyone who looks down on you that if they do the slightest thing against you they will have to suffer at his claws. If the other person is a friend of yours, he'll let it go.

He has at least two types of kisses. The first is the “make out” kisses. When you're alone and he wants you (if you want him at the time too of course), he would give you deep kisses, kiss your neck and run his hands over you. Either he would make you sit on his lap our make you lie down with him.

His real meaningful kisses are the second ones. The "lazy" kisses. The first ones are linked to his pride. These second ones are much more affectionate. Usually happen when he's still sleepy, like when he just woke up from a good nap. He may lazily put his arms around you and kiss your cheek, neck, or shoulder gently. This is perhaps the most vulnerable state he will let you see. And so it will only happen in private.

Azul is also not very adept at PDA, but he is still capable of putting an arm around you and kissing your cheek to show how well he takes care of you.

He's already quite charming and pleasant with his potential clients, so with you it's not much different in public. The only difference is that with you it's genuine.

Do I need to say that dating him is like dating a Mafia Boss? AKA: Nobody disrespects my loved ones, unless they want a certain head in their beds when they wake up. (reference to The Godfather)

Being alone with him on a normal day would probably be being with him in his VIP room at Mostro Lounge. You're sitting on one of the couches while he's dealing with his paperwork. He’s probably the type that likes to be teased a little. So, when you see that he is no longer that attentive to the papers, go up to him, play with his hair, kiss his cheek, that will put him in the mood for you.

He’s the opposite of Leona. The kisses he usually gives you are sweet and charming like him. Because that's the side of him he want to show you the most. He'll kiss your cheek and lips affectionately. Let you sit on his lap. The side he most wants to show you is the confident and caring side. The one who shows you that you can trust him and that he will take care of you.

His most meaningful kiss is the opposite. The one related to his needy side. He shows you his most vulnerable side when he is the one who needs you. And that's what everything he does shows you. His kisses, his hugs, his begging look, all screaming “I need you! Please don’t leave me.”

Jamil is completely against PDA! He doesn't like to stand out or draw attention and PDA always do that to the people involved. He won't hold your hand or kiss you. To the point where no one knows if you're even dating or not.

The only way he would show his affection for you in public is if that is a way to protect you. If someone looks down on you and he feels that that persons can be a threat to you, he will show that he is an even greater threat to them. In these moments, his protective side is stronger. He is Kalim's protector by obligation, but yours by free will.

It's when you're alone that he'll make up for his lack of affection of the day. On a normal day, you would be alone in the kitchen. He would probably be cooking for Kalim, but making something for you two as well. He’ll let you taste things as he cooks. He feels more relaxed when he's with you and even more so when you hug him.

When you're relaxing together, he would spoil you. Give you soft and sweet kisses. Pet your head and play with your hair. Give you massages and feed you things like grapes or small snacks. Or even taking the first mouthful of food he made for you to your mouth and seeing your delighted face.

The most meaningful gestures of affection he shows you are related to his most lustful side (lust for power) when you are the one spoiling him. The one moment in his life where he is no longer the servant, but the master. This time, he kisses your lips, your neck and everything he's entitled to. He tends not to show his feelings but with you he will show how much he loves you and how much he wants you.

In reality, Vil neither likes nor dislikes PDA. He's kind of indifferent to it. The only reason he doesn't do it with you is because it would have bad consequences for both of you for his work as an actor and model. The most he can do is walk hand in hand with you.

Even though he doesn't show it much in public, everyone will know that you two are dating. He'll make sure of it, even if it's just information on the internet or him straight out saying it. On the one hand to protect you, because only an idiot would try to mess with Vil Schoenheit's partner. On the other hand to discourage anyone who has the slightest interest in you. “Honey, they’re with me. Do you really think you can even get to my heels? So, don't bother them.”

The only possible problem for you is that he's going to be more strict now that you're dating. From the outside it looks like he can be mean and demanding with you. But the truth is, he wants you to look your best so people know why he fell in love with you. He wants others to see on the outside how beautiful you are on the inside.

But of course, sometimes it's too much and you'll challenge him. Be stubborn and carefree. The best part? He's so into it! Your way of teasing each other.

He kisses you every now and then when you're alone. But when you put him on this mood, all his affection mix with boldness intensifies. Oh, of course, you wanted him to remind you what the reward is for listening to him. The answer is: appreciating you with the rest of his senses, sensual kisses on your lips, jaw, neck and shoulders; his hands running over your body, him delighting in your wearing the perfume he made for you. He'll show you how beautiful you are to him.

PDA is not even an option! There is no way! Na-a! Listen, Idia loves you, really, he promises BUT going with you to places where couples usually go is already a lot and holding hands is the absolute most he can do. IF that even happens.

He wouldn’t be the jealous type. If someone shows an interest in you, at least they have good taste. But if someone looks down on you or goes so far as to disrespect you, then he goes from 0 to 100. Do these worms know he can hack them? exposing things that can completely ruin their lives until the day they pass through the gates of the underworld? Ortho can help protect you in the meantime.

Since he is a 0 to 100 guy, his kisses are the same. His "0" kisses are lazy. Mainly light, on your shoulder and neck, because you would be sitting on his lap, chest to chest, while he plays on his PC and you on your phone on his back. He also gives you casual "hi" and "bye" kisses on the lips.

Then there is his "100" kisses. Those are the real meaningful kisses, the "I love you" kisses. They are passionate but kind. Because loving you is different for loving a game, it's like he found his balance. they are not needy, but appreciative, the real embodiment of "OMG, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" He also becomes bolder as he feels comfortable with you. He loves to tease you until he makes you shut him up with a kiss. The stronger your relationship is, the more daring and smug he will be.

Malleus is quite indifferent to PDA. However, he is not the type to initiate the exchange of affection, but he is the type to reciprocate it. He won't kiss or hug you out of nowhere. But if you kiss or hug him, he will definitely reciprocate.

And he's going to be extremely casual about it. I mean, it's two lovers interacting with each other. As young humans would say: What's the big deal? However, he still distinguishes between the affection he gives you in public and the affection he gives you in private.

In public, his hugs are polite, and his kisses are light but loving.

In private, what he wants most is simply to be with you. He loves it when you sit on his lap and he cuddles you, and he likes it even more when you cuddle him back. He maintains his composure quite well, but you know that just your kisses on his checks already melt him inside.

His regular kisses in privet are sweet, loving, showing you that you are the most precious thing in his life. And very recurrent. He may not be the type to initiate the exchange of affection in public, but he certainly is in private.

All his kisses are meaningful, but the most meaningful of all are the one he gives you on your lips while smiling. The kind of kiss he can't stop himself from giving you. You may not even notice when they happen, because you are simply being yourself.

He feels the need to kiss you passionately when you do something that reminds him of why he fell in love with you. The moments when you do something that may seem simple, but for him it is something extraordinary. And if you don't realize at first how incredible that small gesture can be for him, it only makes you more charming.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[pepperyduck]

growing old with kento nanami, pt. 2

word count: 3.5k

warnings: having kids, raising kids, naming kids after lost loved ones, descriptions of growing old, like actually growing old and having grandchildren, descriptions of body changes after birth, dad nanami, no angst in this one just living a happy life with husband nanami :3 (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love u all sm, i am giving this man the ending he deserves. now get ready bc i just went through a terrible breakup and must project it in my writing. much love!!!

part 1 | masterlist

nanami watched you with loving eyes as you laid in your hospital bed, exhausted and sleeping so peacefully after the delivery of your baby. your hair stuck to your face in messy patterns from all the sweat, your chest rose and fell on the perfect, comfortable beat. this time, he was sitting in the chair next to your bed, a book open and ready to be read, but kento’s eyes refused to skim the pages – you looked so beautiful. the room was quiet, only the soft buzzing of an air conditioner and beeping from one of the monitors stuck to you would infiltrate the silence. kento paid close mind whenever you began to stir, lightly fluttering your eyes open to look at him, oh so tired.

“good morning, beautiful,” kento cooed, closing his book to rest it on his thigh. he reached out his hand to lay it atop yours, a soft smile grazing his lips when he looked at you.

“hi,” you groaned, slightly rolling over and wincing when the sharp pain began to shoot through your body. kento’s brows furrowed whenever he saw your discomfort.

“how are you feeling?” he asked.

“tired…it hurts,” you muttered, closing your eyes again. kento’s thumb lightly grazed over the back of your hand, tracing the veins.

kento made sure the nurses that came to check on you administered some pain medicine, and after a while, you began to not be in as much torment as before. you were told you could go home in a day or two, after the pain subsides and the baby is evaluated to be in good health.

kento pushed you down the hallway in a wheelchair towards the nursery, and politely asked to see your baby. you cried so many tears of joy the moment your baby boy was settled in your arms, swaddled in a hospital blanket and sleeping gently. he was so beautiful, a spitting image of his father from the word go. even though he was tiny, and his features weren’t so defined, you could already see the resemblance.

“have you decided on a name yet?” the nurse sweetly asked, clipboard in hand with all your information. you and kento swapped looks for a moment, obviously unprepared for the question. for a minute, you thought in your mind about all the names you discussed, finally landing on one that would be thoughtful and fitting.

“what about ‘yū’ kento?” you suggested, looking up at your husband for his approval.

the gesture of naming his son after his passed best friend made kento a little sad, but he knew haibara would be proud and so happy, so he nodded his head in agreement.

“yes, yū. that’s perfect.”

taking care of such a tiny human came so naturally to kento. he was easily able to balance work on top of making sure the baby was okay. for the first few months, it seemed as if yū would always cry when he was with you, until kento finally would pick him up and settle the baby in his arms. kento had taken an adequate amount of time off from work, working only 3-4 days a week, he made sure you had enough time to rest in between taking care of the baby for days at a time.

after a while, yū began to calm down, reverting into a happy, smiley, giggly baby. you felt more comfortable taking care of him on your own without kento there. so, in return, kento began working even more, picking up his normal 40-hour work week. since you had moved cities, you hadn’t found a stable job yet, but that was okay. because kento wanted to take care of you. he wanted to be the one to take care of his family.

so, you let him. he provided as much as possible for you and your child, all the while ensuring he wasn’t overworking himself in the process. he wanted to live a happy life, after all, he was never going to revert back to the ways of his 24-year-old self; working impossible hours and remaining exhausted 24/7.

since yū had began to grow older, hitting the year-old mark in the blink of an eye, you came to realize that you only took care of him. not that you minded, of course, you loved your baby. but you were less active, and it showed on your body. more and more, you looked in the mirror to find the pregnancy weight still latched on to you, the body you once had just didn’t seem to be there. you knew your husband should be the one to talk about insecurities, sure, but with all the surgeries he went through, and all he did to improve his health; you thought he looked just as ravishing as the day you met him. he did look just as handsome, even with the scars covering half of his body. he was simply a beautiful man.

and you began to feel undeserving. ugly. lesser than the person you were married to. and for what? because of some baby weight? it was natural. so why did you feel so increasingly terrible about yourself as time went on? you worked out, you stayed as healthy as possible; but it was like nothing was going to let you get back to how you looked before the baby.

you were looking in the mirror in your bathroom, a huge one, just like you dreamed of. but the large size of the mirror only gave you more sight into your own reflection. a reflection that filled you with disgust. you frowned at the weird shape and size of your tummy, or at least the shape you thought was weird, and the way your face seemed chubbier, and your thighs had grown in size.

“hey, honey,” kento greeted you, walking around the frame of the bathroom door. his sights were immediately infiltrated with the picture of his gorgeous wife, with her sleep shorts tugged down below her stomach, endearing stretchmarks littering the skin that once carried his beloved son.

you tugged your shorts up quickly and replied to him, “hi, kento.” with a quick turn on your heel and a step forward, you planted a light peck on his lips. he smiled down at you, eyes glittering with the very glimpse of such a beautiful woman.

“what are you doing?” he asked, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you close. you sort of slumped your body against him, resting a head on his shoulder, and you sighed.

“do you think i look…different now?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking the question, blurting it out as you rested against your husband. he pulled you away and rested his hands on your waist to look you in the eyes.

“what do you mean, hm?” kento’s thumbs grazed up and down your soft skin.

you looked back into the mirror, frowning once more at the silhouette your body created. with a pitiful tone, you began to speak, “my body. ever since i had yū, it’s just been…ugly. i feel ugly.” you described yourself with one of the most hurtful words and caused kento’s eyebrows to furrow as he looked at you.

ugly? how dare his own wife speak about his wife that way. because, in his eyes, you were the most breathtaking individual on the planet. in the universe, actually. sure, he had noticed the changes of your body – the changes that came from you growing a human being inside of you, single-handedly giving him the best gift he’s ever received. if anything, he loved the changes of your body, somehow your skin became even softer to him, contrasting his rough hands perfectly.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, noticing your husband’s glare once you looked back up at him. he shook his head.

“don’t apologize, i understand.” kento comforted you, bringing a sweet hand up to your cheek to pull you in for a soft kiss. once he pulled back, he ran a thumb over your cheek, “do you want to know what i think, sweetheart?”

brows furrowing, you looked up at him with a confused expression, “think about wh-,” he cut you off with another kiss to the lips. he skimmed his lips over different parts of your face, planting light pecks over all the skin.

“i think,” kento’s lips trailed down your neck slowly, then to each off your shoulders, beginning down one of your arms. “i have,” his kisses didn’t waver as he made his way down your arm, giving a firm kiss to the back of your hand as he held it, kneeling down. “the most,” he smiled up at you before focusing on your tummy, kissing the shirt that laid atop your soft skin, trailing all over your abdomen.

“beautiful wife in the world.”

you giggled at his gesture, the laugh soon faltering because kento’s stare on you was full of complete seriousness. the things that kento thought were always fact, never fiction, you should’ve known that. so yes, what he said was true. it would always be true in his eyes, too. always.

with all the intimacy conjured in the bathroom, that was the night you got pregnant with your second child, a daughter named mayu.

parenthood came with its own highs and lows as your children grew. your daughter loved her father til’ the earths end, always opting to stay under his arm whenever he was home. mayu had taken more of your looks this time, not quite the spitting image like yū was to your husband, but enough to tell that you were her mother. she was full of energy and happiness and took on a sassy personality from a young age. yū, however, was very emotional and laidback compared to his sister. it was quite funny how much their personalities showed, even when they were unable to talk. but as they began to grow up and adopt certain mannerisms, their personalities began to bloom even more.

as kento got older, he had gained just a tiny amount of weight, filling out his muscular form even more. his abs slowly faded with time, turning into a less-defined version of themselves. and your favorite part about kento growing older was his hair. once your children reached 3 and 5, kento had reached a good 35, turning 36 soon, little grey pieces began to pepper themselves into his hairline, shining brightly in between the blonde strands. he began to have small crow’s feet in the outsides of his eyes, and smile lines from the amount of smiling he did with you.

on yū’s first day of school, kento had to hold you as you sniffled back tears, watching your oldest boy walk through the front doors of the school. he held his arm around your shoulders and waved his son off, shushing you and saying he will only be gone until 3 p.m. little did you know, kento had to hold back his own tears, because in that moment he felt so accomplished as a father, even though that was only the beginning of yū’s journey.

not to worry, though, because on mayu’s first day – your husband cried like a baby seeing his daughter walk off into school, nervous for the first time in her life.

the first few years of your children’s school life were smooth sailing. yū and mayu alike made many friends and looked at school in a positive light. you and kento never got tired of their endless stories – about a game they played or a lesson they learned or a book they read. every little art project and 100 on a test decorated the fridge. kento made sure to teach them both about the importance of schooling and how to remain at the top of their class, along with balancing the increasing schoolwork the older they got.

it wasn’t until yū hit middle school that things began to go downhill.

neither you nor kento thought that your children would be able to see curses. only one of you was a sorcerer, and kento was the only one in his family that was able to be a sorcerer, too. but when kento took him to a bakery, yū saw the same creature as his father crawling around on the floor, eliciting an ear-shattering scream – kento felt doomed.

“what do you think we should do?” you questioned, leaning against the counter as your husband sat at the kitchen table, lips pursed beneath intertwined fingers pressed on the lower half of his face.

“i do not want him to be a sorcerer,” kento stated, a stern tone in his voice, “but he…he’s…i don’t know if we can stop it.” your husband sounded defeated at the statement.

he could only ask himself why this had to happen to him of all people; someone that had run away from jujutsu twice now. you and kento both decided to wait until your children were older to explain it all, and where all their uncles and aunts and family friends came from, but at the time, it all seemed inevitable but to give some sort of explanation.

so, of course, he called one of the people he trusted – and now respected – the most.

“nanami!” gojo squealed as soon as the front door was opened, revealing the still tall and lanky satoru. kento seemed to still be annoyed by his presence, yet inside he was thankful for his friend to show up on such short notice. gojo had been around your children some, obviously, but you and kento tried to keep your distance because of how dangerous it all was.

after giving satoru the rundown of the past days’ events, you sent mayu off to a friend’s house and sat yū in the living area with all the adults. until that point, he had no explanation as to what he saw in the bakery. but with ease, just as everything was with gojo, he gave yū the clarification needed to understand he had a special gift, and to use it wisely. kento made up his mind as to not scare your son by telling him about how he got all those scars, saving that for a later date. yū still didn’t understand everything entirely, but ended up having some sort of grasp on his abilities. that was all that was needed.

you and kento collectively decided it would be yū’s choice when he was old enough to decide to become a sorcerer, with the help of gojo, of course.

fortunately, or unfortunately, for mayu, she would end up not having the same abilities as her father. it was sort of a blessing, only having to worry about one kid being raised to fight the second they turned 14.

the years spent waiting for yū to become old enough to decide about jujutsu felt like a ticking time bomb for you and kento. many, many nights were spent in the kitchen, talking endlessly about your concerns but also the upsides to having your son learn under one of kento’s most trusted partners. but the both of you became more honest with your son about the reality of going into jujutsu, the pros and cons of becoming a sorcerer, and how it could both positively and negatively affect his life.

ultimately, though, kento was the most relieved he’d ever been when your son gave his answer about becoming a sorcerer, a few days away from the end of middle school.

“uh, no, dad. it sounds way too dangerous. i want to go to college.” yū’s words came off as that of a normal, moody teenager, but in the end made a weight lift off you and your husband’s shoulders.

they say time flies when you’re having fun, and that was the truest of statements when it came to raising your children with kento. yū’s high school years approached quickly, mayu’s seemingly approached even faster, it was all a rush of images that remained in your head. the sports teams, never missing a thursday night game to cheer on your son from the stands, as he led his soccer team to the regional levels. the first time yū brought a girl home, with you and kento seemingly even more nervous to meet the sweet young lady that attached herself to your son’s arm. prom was so much fun, seeing your husband knot the same printed tie around his son’s neck that he wore in his sorcerer days, before taking a thousand photos of yū and his girlfriend. your son had the most elated, idiotic smile on his face once he opened the door to find his girlfriend dressed to the nines in a stunning dress, the same smile on his face when he came home after a fun night with his friends. and of course, graduation topped it all off, yū standing at the top of his class just like his father. both you and kento had to stifle back tears watching him walk across the stage.

mayu’s high school days were a flash as well, a very fond memory looking back. she remained with the same snappy and sassy personality, just as when she was little. mayu remained close with her father, but began to talk to you as she got older, needing advice for any decision she made. it made you feel like a proud mother, someone she wasn’t embarrassed of because even through her mood swings and bad days, she always found refuge in you. mayu became the student council president by her second year, running every school event like a ship, making sure to always get extra t-shirts for you and kento because you would always show up. while yū was away at college, mayu became your focus as you let your son navigate his way through life.

kento thought he was going to have a heart attack the second his beloved daughter said she had a boyfriend she wanted the both of you to meet. the night that boy rolled up in his car, knocking on the door frantically, kento put on a stern and serious face as he was the one to open the door. mayu came running up behind kento, to no avail, as her boyfriend was already bowing and then shaking your husband’s hand. he politely introduced himself, practically shaking with how intimidated he was by your husband. but the night went on smoothly, you had dinner together and found out more about mayu’s boyfriend and his aspirations. at the end of the night, after he had left and mayu went to bed, kento said he was an, “alright young man,” which was the biggest compliment if you were going to date his daughter.

mayu’s graduation was the time for kento to sob again, seeing his daughter get so much recognition for all she did for the school, feeling like the proudest dad of two children. yū had driven into town, sitting next to you and kento in the stands, a bouquet of flowers for his sister. mayu moved into her dorm only a few weeks later, leaving you and kento in an empty house, riddled with the memories of raising two beautiful, accomplished, important and thriving children.

it all went by too fast.

after your birds had successfully left the nest, you and kento spent all your time together once again. the days would mix up as he began to work less and less to prepare for his retirement. time flew by, aging you and your husband both, the wrinkles becoming delicately pronounced each year, the grey hairs eventually taking over all the blonde in his head. you spent your time reading, baking, and most of all, traveling as soon as kento’s last day at work hit.

you flew all around the world, visiting the most gorgeous and diverse cities alike, emerging yourselves in all the different cultures, practices, and kento’s favorite part – the food. you visited malaysia with him again, just as you did on your honeymoon, the love you felt all those years ago still present within you both. you walked along the beaches and toured all the spots you favorited on your honeymoon again.

your life with kento nanami was beautiful.

you lay in bed with your husband at your side, his peaceful yet loud snores endearing as he sleeps so soundly. tomorrow, your 25th wedding anniversary will be here. you’ll walk out on the porch of the beautiful condo kento bought after retirement with a cup of coffee for him. you’ll read a book as your husband basks in the view of the beach he longed for all his life. your children and their spouses will drive in around afternoon, and spend the weekend with you both, letting you get time in with yū’s new baby, your grandchild. you will mingle, laugh, maybe cry and reminisce in all the memories you and your husband built up over the course of decades. your house will be loud with the sounds of kids and family and friends, all there to celebrate the life you’ve had with your husband.

even if kento were to die the next day, or in a year, or in 10 years, something would always remain true.

kento nanami had successfully spent his life with his true love.

taglist: @kundere20000000 @missakward123 @cherriee-ee @lagataprrr @ourfinalisation @ynniksslirg

let me know if you want to be added!

[7s3ven]

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N, after spending a decade at Camp Half-Blood, still remains unclaimed. Luckily, Luke is there to keep her company as her good friend. And to, perhaps, provide a bit more.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

( follows the show - kind of just a oneshot bc i’m bored )

Warnings : fighting, violence, a little too much of a description about injuries

—

Nobody had been this excited about a new kid since three years ago, when a H/C-haired girl showed up holding a Harpy’s head. The new arrival had slain a Minotaur, which Clarisse wasn’t too happy about. She was convinced he was a liar.

Y/N sat in the Hermes cabin, closely inspecting her empty juice box. She had waken up an hour ago yet her good friend, Luke, still woke up earlier. She always wondered where he went in the early morning. Perhaps to get some sword training in before the day started. He was, after all, the best swordsman in camp.

The rays of sun poured through the window, bathing the wooden floor in light. A few of the Hermes kids groaned, knowing Luke would burst through the doors any second and force them to get up. He always did when the sun rose.

As expected, Luke kicked the door open. “Good morning!” He exclaimed, as energetic as ever. “The new kid’s coming today so get up and start cleaning! I’m mainly talking to you guys.” Luke sent the group in the corner a stern look and added, “Y/N, you’re fine.” He pointed at her with his usual boyish grin.

Lately, Y/N had been sleeping in Luke’s bed while he slept on the floor. They took turns switching. Lying on the ground for more than a decade now wasn’t good for the back.

After all this time, Y/N was still unclaimed. It usually took a week or less. Y/N was a prime example of the Gods above ignoring their children.

“He’s the one who killed the Minotaur, right?” Y/N questioned as Luke collapsed onto his mattress, partly to annoy Y/N who was sitting on it. The H/C-haired girl scoffed and playfully rolled her eyes, yet she couldn’t contain the amused smile on her face.

“Yeah. He can join your little monster slaying group. Let’s hope he gets claimed because I can’t deal with a boy version of you.” Luke teasingly grinned while Y/N scoffed and slapped his shoulder.

“You love my company.” She uttered, rolling her eyes.

Luke’s friends snickered to themselves. “More like he loves you.” One whispered to another.

“What’s his name again?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. “Was it… Tom?” Luke stared at her in disbelief before lightly snorting.

“You’re way off, Y/N. Stop thinking, you’ll hurt that tiny brain of your’s. Just do what you do best; sit still and look cute.” Luke ruffled her tidy hair, turning it into a bird’s nest again.

Y/N flung a pillow at him, and glowered at the Hermes boy. “I’m going to kick your ass in capture the flag.” She threatened, poking his shoulder. Clarisse, out of all people, was her best friend. So naturally, she teamed up with her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, princess.” Luke lightly shoved her which caused Y/N to gasp in disbelief.

“Don’t push a lady, Luke!”

The other campers, already used to their antics, just chuckled. “Hey, love birds!” One of the unclaimed kids exclaimed. “Get a room!” With her smart she was, Y/N assumed she was Athena’s child.

Y/N and Luke liked to play a silly game where they guessed which camper belonged to which godly parent. It was fun. Luke was never wrong until the day he tried to guess Y/N’s.

A year ago, he guessed Aphrodite. His explanation? Because she was charming and she had a certain aura that followed her. And because she was pretty. That was the only time he was wrong because Y/N never ended up in a cabin.

“So, what do you think of the new kid? Which cabin?” Y/N asked as she and Luke walked outside. He shoved his hands into his pockets, laughing.

“Tough call. I haven’t even met him yet. Apollo, maybe?” Luke shrugged and frowned. “I’ll tell ya my guess when I see him.”

“I’m guessing… Poseidon.” Y/N uttered, earning a light snort from Luke.

“No way. Is that your confirmed guess? Being a child of Poseidon would mean being a forbidden child.”

The game had a few rules.

One. You can only take a single guess and once you confirm it, you can’t change it.

Two. You can’t ask the kid you’re talking about. Luke considers that cheating. You can only observe them.

Three. No asking Annabeth because she’s always right.

“I guess. It’s not like I ever win, right?” Y/N laughed, grinning at Luke. He stared at her for a moment before returning her bright smile.

“I know we don’t usually make bets, but if your guess turns out right, I’ll willingly give up in the next capture the flag game after he’s claimed.” Luke puffed out his chest, certain Y/N wouldn’t win.

“And if you win?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You give me your strawberries.” Luke had an obsession with strawberries that everybody, even the gods above, knew about.

“You’re on, Luke.” Y/N held out her hand with her lips curved up into a teasing smirk.

“Good luck, princess. Looks like I’ll be taking all your strawberries.” Luke ran his tongue over his teeth, already being able to taste the sweet, red fruit in his mouth.

He walked off, playfully winking at Y/N. Clarisse, who saw the whole conversation go down, hurried over to Y/N. “Looks like you and lover boy have a bet going in.” She smirked, raising both her eyebrows. “You two are cute together.”

“Don’t mess with me, Clari. We’re just friends.” Y/N rolled her eyes at what her friend was suggesting. She had been friends with Luke for three years now and she had known him for even longer.

“Are you just friends… or you want to be more?” Clarisse leaned forward with that taunting glint in her beautiful eyes. Y/N groaned, shoving her away. Clarisse simply laughed. “Come on, princess.” She mocked.

“Oh, come on, Risse.” That was a horrid nickname given to Clarisse by an Apollo boy who seemed to be obsessed with her.

“Shut up!” Clarisse exclaimed, eyeing Y/N up and down in disgust as if she was the Apollo boy. “You know how I feel about him!”

“And you know how I feel about Luke.”

“Yeah… but do you?” Clarisse tilted her head to the side before her gaze flickered to something, or rather someone, behind Y/N. “The Minotaur kid is out.” She grumbled and sharply clicked her tongue.

“Great. I can see if my stupid guess was correct.” Y/N glanced over her shoulder, watching the boy walk beside Chiron. His hair was curled, much like Luke’s, and blond. Clarisse had wandered off in the midst of Y/N’s staring, but she didn’t mind.

Suddenly, the boy lifted his head. His eyes clashed with Y/N’s, and he almost jumped at how intensely she was staring at him. Y/N merely smiled before turning away.

“So, what do you think?” She asked Luke as they walked towards the Hermes cabin side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other.

“Hard to say for now.” Luke replied. Y/N looked at him and he stared back before the pair burst into quiet laughter. Just locking eyes could make two friends find anything hilarious.

“I assume you’ll take him under your wing? Good luck.” Y/N nudged him with her elbow, which seemed to be a normal gesture between them.

“Thanks, princess. See ya.”

Y/N turned around, almost crashing into a disoriented Percy Jackson. He seemed jumpy and panicked. Of course, how couldn’t he be? He had just unknowingly killed a monster and his mother had been taken.

“Hi. The first day is always rough. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Y/N muttered to him before she passed by.

She didn’t stick around to hear Chiron announce him. She sighed, wandering aimlessly around the camp. She saw Clarisse talking to her siblings. Y/N had always wondered what it was like to have siblings you could relate to. What did it feel like to understand each other? To go through the same difficulties?

The Hermes cabin was comfortable and friendly enough but it wasn’t the same. She wanted to feel what a true family felt like, or at least was supposed to.

As Y/N had expected, Luke was the first to talk to Percy.

“I’m Luke.” He introduced himself to the boy after the rocky start to their conversation.

“Percy. Hey, uh, who was that girl before? The H/C-haired one?” He questioned, clearing his throat.

“Y/N. She’s nice most of the time the time but a pain in the ass during capture the flag.” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m just kidding. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

“You guys seem close.” Percy uttered, remembering the way Luke looked at Y/N when they talked.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend. Unfortunately for me, her best friend is an aggressive Ares kid.” He grinned, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Feel free to lie down anywhere. Just don’t get too close to Y/N. If she’s having a monster dream, she kicks in her sleep.”

One of the campers across the cabin groaned. “I know how that feels. The bruise lasted for weeks!” The others burst into laughter while Percy hurriedly made a mental note.

Avoid the pretty girl when she sleeps.

Percy was lucky that Y/N, who lay on the floor a few feet away from him, wasn’t having one of her infamous nightmares. He couldn’t say the same for himself, though.

Percy sat up, panting and sweating. He looked around, realising where he was. Birds chirped in the distant and he could hear the faint sound of chatter through the wooden walls.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

“Super.” Percy sarcastically responded.

“We all have them here, you know.” Luke clicked his tongue and sighed. “Intense, reoccurring nightmares. That’s normal here. Take Y/N for example. When she first came here, no one wanted to get near her while she slept. Girl’s a bloody good kicker.”

Percy lightly chuckled while Luke smiled. “The daydreams and ADHA and dyslexia are normal too. Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.”

“So, are you also…” Percy trailed off, not wanting to sound rude to his first friend at camp.

Luke found his hesitation amusing. “Am I unclaimed? No. Hermes is my father.”

“And Y/N? Is her father also Hermes?”

Luke scrunched up his face like he had just eaten a sour lemon. “Oh, no. Heck no. Y/N’s unclaimed… still. She has been for a while.” The brunette pressed his lips into a thin line as he gazed at Y/N, who was laughing with Clarisse.

“Why hasn’t Aphrodite claimed her? I mean, she looks the part.”

“That’s what we’re all asking ourselves. We all thought she’d be Aphrodite’s kid.”

Boys and girls flocked towards Y/N like she was a muse. It was no secret that out of all the campers, Y/N stood out the most. There was something unique about her, how she always hung around the aggressive Ares kids like she wanted to be one of them.

She was a tough opponent but a little too soft for Ares’ liking.

Too gentle for Ares but too angry for Aphrodite. She was constantly stuck in the middle. It almost seemed like no god or goddess wanted her in their cabin because she had proved herself over and over again.

“How long has she been unclaimed?” Percy inquired. Kids before him had asked that very same question and every time, they were never ready for the answer.

“A decade.” Luke replied, “She’s been here for a decade. Last year, there was a stupid rumour going around that she was fully mortal but that doesn’t make sense. If she was, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Why so long?”

“Nobody knows.” Luke shrugged. He had wondered that too. And he could see how it was weighing down on Y/N. The unclaimed kid was what campers referred to her as. They used her as an example of what not to do.

“Will she ever get claimed?”

Luke hoped she would. For her sake. He knew how she felt about not having a related family of her own. For now, she was satisfied laughing over silly tales with the Hermes kids.

“So, where does she go during the day? She disappeared yesterday and today.” Percy tilted his head to the side, not being able to spot Y/N anymore. Luke paused. It was uncommon for him to not have an answer to everything.

“I… don’t know. I assume Clarisse and her go somewhere.”

“Probably swimming in the lake.” Grover said, overhearing the two’s conversation.

It was scorching during Summer at Camp Half-Blood. Most stayed in the shade while an occasional kid or two tended to the plants. So it would make sense that Y/N would go to a lake to cool off.

Luke left Percy in the company of Grover and made his way towards the Lake in the middle of the forest. As Grover guessed, he found Y/N and Clarisse and a few other Ares kids swimming in the water or sitting on the nearby rocks.

“Hey, Y/N, your lover boy is here!” One of them exclaimed. Y/N, from her spot in the middle of the lake, glared at him. She huffed before swimming over to Luke, easily heaving herself onto shore.

“Hey, Luke, ready to make your guess yet?” She asked, grinning up at him. “Or do you wanna swim?”

“My guess is definitely not Hephaestus.” Luke said as he sat down in front of Y/N. His gaze flickered to her new swimsuit. “New bathing suit?”

“Yeah. Miya got it for me.” Miya was a child of Aphrodite and favored Y/N quite a lot.

“Ah. No wonder it’s so…” Luke hesitated, “Revealing.” He tried to act like a gentleman but his cheeks flushed every time he even looked at Y/N.

“One more day until I kick your ass.” Y/N laughed as she sank back into the water, returning a moment later with her hair dripping wet and her face shining in the sunlight. She looked effortlessly angelic.

“Are you sure you’re ready to handle Y/N again, Luke? She almost beat you last time.” Clarisse snickered as she floated on her back.

Luke scoffed. “Keyword. Almost.” It was true that Y/N had almost beaten him in his own game of sword fighting but that was because she was becoming increasingly more distracting.

Gone was the shy and quiet kid who always trailed behind Clarisse. With every passing year, Y/N became more headstrong and, well, beautiful. That’s why it was so hard for Luke to keep his feelings to himself now. Even Clarisse could see through his facade.

“I’m ready to make my guess.” Luke finally announced, catching Y/N’s wavering attention. She arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “My guess… is Demeter. I met the kid and he seems gentle. A soft and kind soul.”

“Nice. I guess we’ll find out soon.” Y/N’s guess was nothing but a joke and she’d end up laughing if she was actually correct.

“Join me for a little swim?” Y/N asked, reaching out to tug on Luke’s shirt. He sighed while Y/N merely smiled. A moment later, he gave in. Luke lifted his shirt over his head while Y/N stared at him a little too shamelessly for her liking. Some of the Ares boys teasingly wolf-whistled which made Luke chuckle.

He jumped into the lake, practically tackling Y/N and taking her under with him. “Luke!” She yelled, hitting his shoulder when they resurfaced.

“Oh no. The married couple is fighting again.” Zyra, Clarisse’s half-sister, said. She and Clarisse shared a knowing grin.

“They’re so whipped.” Clarisse whispered, subtly swimming away to give the two more space.

It was the day Y/N had eagerly been waiting for. Perhaps her favourite day at Camp. Capture the flag day.

Clarisse handed Y/N a spear. “I got it fixed for you.” The brunette said. During the last game, Y/N’s spear had broken. She was forced to fight with half of it after that.

Y/N adjusted Clarisse’s armour, ensuring that it was tight enough before putting on her own helmet.

“You’re gonna love this.” She overhead Luke say to Percy as they passed by. “Camp-wide mock warfare. All glory to the victors. Annabeth’s the head counsellor. She’s led our team to three straight wins.”

Y/N looked away, giving Luke the perfect chance to gaze over at her. “Y/N and Clarisse lead the other team. Clarisse is rather… impulsive, though. Y/N’s come up with some good plans but Ares kids always go off the rails.”

“What’s the deal with you and Y/N anyway?” Percy suddenly switched the topic, much to Luke’s surprise. “I mean, you guys say you’re just friends but you’re always looking at each other. And talking. And you stare at her like she’s your world. Sometimes I wish I could look at someone like that.” Percy sighed while Luke was left speechless.

Luke cleared his throat and shook his head. “Let’s just… focus on the game.”

The conch shell blew. Y/N stood side Clarisse, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Heroes, it’s time.” Chiron announced. “The game begins. The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor. As always, there will be no maiming and no killing. I trust these rules will be respected.”

He subtly glanced over at Clarisse and her cabin.

“Let the games begin.”

There was twenty minutes until the next conch shell, which meant game-on. Normally, Clarisse and Y/N would pair up and hunt through the woods for the first few hours. But Clarisse had a different idea this time.

“Good luck.” Y/N said to her friend, slinging her spear over her shoulder. Y/N split up with the rest of her team, taking with her small portion of campers.

“We follow Clarisse’s plan this time. We’re the last defense meaning that if the blue team manages to get through, we fight like our lives depend on it.” Y/N said as she gripped her spear tightly.

“What are going to do?” Someone else asked.

“I’m going to…. look around.”

Luke grunted as a sword piercing his upper arm. He easily disarmed his opponent and kicked them to the ground.

“We give up.” The red leader grumbled, wincing as their brushed their fingers over his cuts.

“I wanna move quick. Straight through the woods for their flag.” Luke uttered.

“Y/N and Clarisse hunt in those woods for the first few hours, you know that. They’ll cut us down.”

Luke grinned, shaking his head. “Annabeth has a plan for Clarisse. And Y/N, as always, is mine. Don’t worry about her.”

“Last time I didn’t worry about her, she almost chopped my head off. By accident!” Chris loudly exclaimed, shoving Luke. Unbeknownst to the pair, Y/N was watching from above in the trees, hidden by the thick leaves.

She skilfully hopped from branch to branch, sliding down in front of her teammates. “The blue team is coming. They got past the other defences. Get in position.” Y/N hid behind a thick tree branch, panting and listening carefully for the sound of Luke’s voice.

She heard a twig snap and peeked her head out slightly to see Luke, Chris, and the rest of their small team. Y/N looked up, signalling to her friends above that it was almost time.

The moment Luke, who was leading the pack, stepped right where Y/N wanted him, she revealed herself. “Now!” She shouted, raising her spear and striking Luke. He easily blocked her attack.

“Thought you could ambush us, princess? Nice try.” Luke chuckled, pushing Y/N back.

“I’d say that it worked just fine.” Y/N retorted, lunging at Luke again. She pinned him to a nearby tree, holding the blade of her spear to his throat.

Chris grabbed Y/N by her shirt, pulling her back. Luke swung his sword at her but Y/N simply ducked to avoid the blow.

She tried to run off to help her teammates but Luke blocked her path. “Where do you think you’re going?” He uttered, playfully furrowing his eyebrows.

Y/N scoffed, kicking his ankles. She pointed at spear at his chest, poking it ever so slightly. “Ready to give up, Luke?”

“In your dreams.” He rolled over, latching onto Y/N’s arm and pulling her down with him. Y/N yelped, quickly scrambling up before he could grab her again.

She looked around at her surroundings, finally understanding what Luke’s plan was. It was to keep Y/N away from her team so that Luke’s could take them down. That left Y/N solely alone, standing between the flag and the blue team.

She panted, glaring at Luke. “Bring it on, Luke.” She muttered, holding up her spear. Luke was the first to make a move. He jumped at her, swinging his blade. Y/N dodged it and blocked another attack from Chris.

She quickly lowered her head, tackling another Hermes kid. Y/N rolled across the floor, swiftly standing up. “You won’t be getting near that flag on my watch.” She kicked Luke and whacked Chris. One of the Athena girls launched herself at Y/N, gripping onto her leg.

Y/N shook her off but the girl’s weight caused her to topple over. The bits of debris grazed at her skin. Chris swung his sword, slashing at Y/N. The blade cut her lower arm and blood welled up from the slit.

Quietly groaning, Y/N heaved herself up. She lightly swayed, unbalanced and a little weak. “Like I said,” She murmured, “You aren’t getting that flag.”

Y/N blocked every attack and blow aimed her way but she was getting slow. She could barely lift her weapon fast enough to stop Luke from successfully landing a hit.

Everything was becoming too overwhelming as she struggled to keep up. It was all a fast blur filled with weapons violently clashing against each other and shouting.

Up above, thunder crashed and lightning flickered through the darkening sky. Rain poured down, drenching the campers.

The thunder got louder and the lightning brighter as the seconds passed until nobody could ignore it. A harsh flash of lightning hit a tree nearby, setting it alight.

“Y/N, watch out!” Luke shouted, reaching out. Strings of electricity rippled around Y/N as a burning tree branch fell towards her. Luke sprinted towards her, dropping his sword in the process. He tackled Y/N, shielding her from harm’s way.

She groaned as she hit her head, black dots swirling around in her vision. She felt numb and her head lolled to the side as she heard shouts of victory followed by gasps of surprise.

“Y/N L/N has been claimed by Zeus, the king of Gods and the God of thunder and ruler of the sky.”

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part V)

Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 9.8 K

Warnings: Angst galore, violence, miscarriage

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 ... Part 6 Part 7

~~

A thump at her door roused her from her sleep. She blinked tiredly, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked around the room, seeing no indication of her husband’s presence. It wasn’t unusual that he would leave as the sun rose, but she knew today was not one of his training days. 

With a groan, she stood from the bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes as she stepped towards the door. She grasped the handle and frowned as she felt resistance, unable to turn to it. 

She tried again, jiggling the handle, her movements becoming more desperate as she realized it wouldn’t budge. She banged her fist against the door, calling out to her husband, but it was no use. 

The door didn’t open. 

With a racing heart, she rushed to the hidden passage across the room, her shaking hands pushing at the wall with all her might. A hushed curse fell from her lips as it refused to give way. Something was blocking it. 

Her mind was racing frantically, no thoughts making sense as to why she was locked in her room or where her husband was. 

Raised voices from outside caught her attention and she frantically looked around the room for the dagger her husband kept, suddenly fearing that she’d need to defend herself from whatever enemy had trapped her in her chambers. 

The door abruptly slammed open, her husband stepping inside with a heated expression on his face. He gave one last scowl to the guards outside before closing the door behind him, turning to face her with a guilty look.

“What’s going on? Why was the door locked?”

“Are you alright?” He asked, stepping towards her quickly, his hands cradling her face gently, his eye greedily taking her in, noting her distress. 

“I’m fine, but I have no idea what in the seven hells is going on.” She replied heatedly, her frustration clear. 

Aemond had been furious when he learned his wife had been locked inside their chambers at the orders of his mother. He knew his mother wasn’t overly fond of his wife, but he never thought she would stoop so low. 

His face darkened as he thought over the past few minutes, the news that had been shared, the duty that now fell onto his shoulders. 

“What happened?” She asked warily, his expression making her wary. 

“My father is dead.” 

Her lips parted in surprise, a heavy weight suddenly settling over her, as it soon became harder to breathe. Her arms winded around him, hugging him tightly without a second thought. She gripped onto him as if afraid he would run.

He didn’t respond to her embrace, his arms laying limply at his side, his face devoid of all emotion, his ire for his father seeming to grow even more bitter in the wake of his death. 

“Aemond… I - are you alright?” She pulled away from the embrace to look at him, her frown growing at the sight of his passive expression.

“Of course I am.” He said tersely, causing her to flinch at his abrupt tone. “I have to find Aegon.”

His words caused fear to strike her, her eyes widening, the tension growing thick. 

“It’s happening isn’t it.” She spoke monotonously, no question in her tone, for she already knew.

“It is.” He spoke quietly, reaching for her hand. “It shouldn’t be him, but it is what my father wanted.”

Her face twisted in disbelief, the expression enough to have the brief moment of softness removed from his expression, his gaze turning hard once more, resentment building within him. 

“What? You would rather have my whore of a half-sister sit the throne and my bastard nephew to follow?”

She sighed, reaching for his hand again, but he pulled away before she could reach him. His blinding hatred for his nephews and his half-sister hardening him against the hurt that crossed her face, a moment that would have melted him and brought her into his arms only further incenting his rage.

“You would bow to the ones that tormented me my entire childhood, that took my fucking eye, that boast when they have no right-”

“Stop!” She yelled, stopping his rant, her eyes alight with an anger that was unfamiliar to him. “You know I could not care less who sits on the damned throne, but you know as well as I do who certainly does not deserve it.”

Aemond’s anger shifted, giving way to his own apprehension. The thought of the power Aegon would soon wield was not appealing to say the least. His shoulders sagged, the fight in him petering out weakly. He reached out, his hand taking hers, his silent apology for his outburst.

“It is what we must do.” He spoke, the words sounding as if he were reading from a script and not how he truly felt.

She sighed, her arms coming to wrap around herself, as if she felt she already needed to protect herself against what Aegon’s reign would ensue. Aemond sighed, fighting his temper at the sight of her complicated reaction. 

The mere thought that his own wife supported Rhaenyra’s claim was enough to boil his blood and he grit his teeth, trying to remain calm in the face of her worry. 

“You know those bastards don’t deserve the throne.”

“Would you rather a bastard or a rapist?”

All anger was gone swiftly, his face falling as a pit grew in his stomach. His gaze softened, determination sparking within him and he reached out, grasping her shoulders gently. 

“He would never touch you. You know I will protect you.”

“Even from war?”

He seemed less sure of that, his gaze floundering before dropping to the floor. He pulled away from her touch, his unease swirling with thoughts of his uncertainty, inciting his anger and he swiftly turned on his heel. 

“I will be back soon.”

With that, he was out the door, leaving her alone in their chambers. She let out a shaking breath, her mind twisting with thoughts of what was to come, dread bubbling within her, forcing her to wonder if it was only the pregnancy that was causing her nausea. 

The next hour was a whirlwind. Alicent had sent a gaggle of maids to style her, ignoring her winces as they laced her into a tight, corseted gown, as they pulled and pinned her hair to the appropriate style for her station. 

She was corralled through the Keep and it was only until she spotted Helaena that she felt she was able to relax the slightest amount, though her frown deepened as she noticed the despondent expression on Helaena’s face. She linked her arm through her good sister’s, eyeing her carefully, noting how her chest heaved with every nervous intake of air. 

“Are you alright?”

“I will be Queen.” She spoke monotonously, as if she couldn’t believe the turn of events, that she would soon hold a powerful title, something she had never longed for or dreamed of. 

She squeezed Helaena affectionately, a weak smile painting her features. 

“You will be a wonderful Queen.”

They were soon herded into a carriage to take them to the Dragon Pit for the coronation. She sat faithfully by Helaena’s side, her hand clutching hers tightly, her chest aching for the trembling she felt from her friend. 

She leaned her head back, blowing out a long breath, the unease swirling within her leaving her seconds away from demanding they stop so she could empty her stomach. She placed a protective hand over her stomach, wishing she could feel a flutter, any sign of life to comfort her in this bleak moment. 

Her eyes wandered before landing on Alicent sat at the other side of the carriage. She flinched, her eyes quickly casting down as she noticed the cold glare directed at her from her good mother. 

She knew how Alicent felt about her, she had made it perfectly clear even before she married her son. She had always put on a brave face and never let her stares of disapproval or back handed comments get under her skin, but now, on this day when their lives were to change, when a war would soon unfold because of their actions, a measly scowl seemed to strike her deeper than ever before. 

She kept her eyes locked onto her feet for the rest of the ride which was thankfully short. They were guided inside and she immediately found her husband. Aemond was already standing at the dais with his grandsire and Ser Criston, his face hardened like the visage of a statue. 

He held his hand out to her as she approached, his eyes posing a silent question. As his gaze drifted to her stomach, she knew he was pondering about the babe more than he was her own state of mind and she sighed, giving him a slight nod. Aemond let his hand drop from hers, his face shifting back into a mask of indifference as the group of them took their places as the dutiful royal family and the confused crowds of citizens were pushed into the grand hall like cattle. 

“Best behavior everyone.” Alicent whispered to them, her eyes lingering on the Island girl for a moment longer than the rest, her gaze darkening slightly in warning. 

She had to hold back a scoff. To think she was the one to be under warning for her actions on this day. As if she were the one starting a war. 

Her nausea grew as the soldiers lined up, their swords held high in respect for a man who didn’t deserve it as he marched his way forward, his face dark and dreary. She didn’t know what was worse, giving Aegon the crown or forcing it upon his head when he didn’t even want it. Her eyes shifted to her husband at her side, imagining it was him, walking up the steps to receive the great honor. 

He would be better than Aegon. He would be better than Rhaenyra. 

Her eyes fell back to the crowd, a shiver running down her spine as she forced the thoughts from her head. 

The energy in the room shifted as the crown was placed on Aegon’s head. The murmurs of confusion, the shock at the news of the King’s death was replaced by the excitement of the crowd, of the idea of a new, male, ruler. 

Aegon turned to his mother who bowed dutifully, her face not a mask of relief as one would expect someone whose years of plotting had finally been rewarded, but that of wavering submission, as if the reality of her actions, the consequences that would soon unfold were finally catching up to her. 

Otto bowed to his grandson, a smarmy smile of victory on his face. 

Aegon’s eyes fell down the line, Helaena automatically bowing to her husband, her eyes slightly vacant, as if she were forcing her mind to be anywhere but the present. 

Aemond nodded stiffly, his own stomach twisting slightly as he thought of what his brother would be capable of now that there was no one to hold him back any longer. 

Aegon’s gaze shifted, a sickly satisfied grin growing as he met her hardened stare. 

She hesitated for a few seconds, her eyes looking at the man she despised, the man who now held unlimited power. She stiffened as his gaze darkened, making note of her hesitation, and she breathed deeply, bowing her head weakly, no further than she needed to.

She didn’t need him gaining any grandeur perceptions about the respect she had for him, of which there was none. 

A hand slithered into hers and her breath hitched, her eyes subtly finding her husband at her side. He remained looking forward, surveying the crowd, but his hand squeezed hers, conveying his relief, his thanks that she had put her feelings for his brother aside to not cause any conflict. 

She let out a long breath, the noise of the crowd deafening as they applauded their new King. She wondered if any of them knew even a sliver of his true nature, if they would be cheering as they were if they had seen the many maids flee from his chambers with tears in their eyes and blood running down their thighs. 

Her dark thoughts were interrupted as the floor before them crumbled, the cheers suddenly turning to screams of terror. 

Before her eyes could even widen in shock, she was pushed back. Her breath was stolen from her as arms encircled her tightly, Aemond’s body wrapped around hers, shielding her and their unborn child from the debris that flew. His hand on the back of her head held her to his chest, his heart racing beneath her ear. 

Her heart raced in a way it never had before, the rapid rhythm startling her. She stood frozen, incapacitated by shock as Aemond pulled away, his hands latching onto hers, his gaze frantically searching every inch of her, ensuring there was no harm done. 

He placed his hand on her stomach, his brows furrowed, as if in pain, as if the mere thought of a threat against their growing child was enough to bring him to his knees. 

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide with fear, placing a hand over her chest that heaved for breath. 

He eyed her carefully, his hands holding her tightly. It wasn’t until he saw her take in a deep breath that he let himself detach from her. His expression soon turned dark, his hand moving to the sword at his hip to meet the enemy that dared threaten his family.  His eye widened as the dust cleared, the dragon before them taking a mighty step towards them. His stiff body stood protectively in front of her, his gaze locked onto the beast, his arm keeping his wife behind him. 

“Aemond-”

“It’s alright.” He soothed her, though it was anything but convincing with how tense his voice sounded. 

She eyed the dragon from over her husband’s shoulder and quickly reached out, grabbing onto Helaena’s sleeve and pulling her back into her side, wrapping her arm around her, though her friend didn’t look scared. She looked at the dragon before them with wonder, a small smile playing on her lips. 

She briefly wondered if the thought of being burned alive was more enticing to her than becoming Queen to her villainous husband of a King. 

The bone rattling roar directed at them shook the walls of the Pit. Aemond’s grip tightened on her arm, as if his final act of comfort, his only way to say goodbye to her. 

Her forehead rested on his strong back, her breath leaving her in quivering pants, bracing herself for the fire that would end them all. 

But it never came. 

With one last final roar, Meleys and her fierce rider, the Princess Rhaenys, gave a final look of resolve to the family before her and pulled on the reins of her dragon, turning away from them. With a spread of her wings, Meleys glided out of the building, Rhaenys finally free from the clutches of Alicent and Otto. 

The cries of the wounded and grieving were all that were left. 

Time seemed to speed, she was barely able to comprehend what had happened before they were all forced out of the Pit. Aemond’s arm around her waist, practically dragging her with him, was the only thing keeping her moving forward. 

Her eyes fluttered around the room, her throat growing tight at the sight of the bodies that littered the ground, crowds of people fallen to their knees with screams and cries for their dead loved ones, innocent people caught in the crossfire of a conflict that had nothing to do with them.

Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, the heart wrenching cries making her flinch. Aemond held her tighter in response, his pace quickening in desperation to get her away from the blood and death that lingered in their wake. 

They were deadly quiet in the carriage that brought them back to the Red Keep. 

No one spoke a word, the only sound were the wheels that jerked against the uneven stones beneath them, though it would never be enough to take away the sound of grief she had just heard that continued to ring her ears in a torturous loop. 

She was stiff as stone as they came to a stop, Aemond helping his sister out of the carriage before holding his hand out to her. Their eyes met briefly, the worry in his gaze turning her stomach, reminding her that this was real, that their brief brink with death was only the beginning.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat and grasped his hand, his hold much tighter than hers, which remained even after she found her footing.

Aemond’s arm lay sturdy around her waist as they stepped back into the Red Keep. She kept her head down as they walked, her mind a mess of worry, her hands still trembling, her adrenaline pumping through her veins in a mix of fearful derision. 

Her husband’s steps faltered slightly and she raised her head, her eyes falling onto the sight before them before Aemond could shield her. She gasped, a hand moving to cover her mouth as she stared in horror at the swinging bodies below the gate. 

Aemond’s grip on her tightened and he walked swiftly, guiding her quickly through the doors and away from the gruesome sight. 

Her gaze remained locked onto the lifeless bodies. The traitors that supported Rhaenyra’s claim. Her head turned, unable to look away from the stomach twisting sight. 

“Don’t look.” Aemond said softly, though the command did little to sway her. 

She couldn’t tear herself away from the sight, from the reminder of what defying Aegon would lead her to.

Tears welled in her eyes again, a pit of dread settling within her like lead. She instinctively placed a hand over her belly, mourning the world their child would be brought into.

~~

The family sat together at dinner that night, the room painfully silent as everyone but Otto and Aegon picked at their food inattentively. 

Only a few bites were needed before she started to feel sick again. She leaned back in her chair, placing her fork down with more force than was necessary. Aemond looked over at her, smiling sadly as he placed his hand over her stomach. 

She grit her teeth as a flash of anger coursed through her. It wasn’t the babe she was growing making her feel sick. The mangled bodies she’d seen under the debris of the dragon pit, the bodies of noble Lords hanging lingered in her mind, seemingly putting her off from ever eating again.

She didn’t know how he could be so unaffected by it all. 

“When can we expect your father’s return?” Otto’s commanding voice sounded from across the table. 

She lifted her gaze, despising the fact that his intense scrutiny was staring right back at her.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t specify his return before he left.” 

“Hopefully he will not be gone for too much longer. We cannot be without a Master of coin, especially with what is sure to come. I’m sure he will not want his daughter alone during a war.” 

The thinly veiled threat in Otto’s words didn’t go unnoticed and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her gaze briefly shifted to Aemond who looked just as unnerved by the turn of the conversation. Aemond’s look of apprehension was enough to have her own nerves alight with fear.

To think he considered her alone, even with her husband by her side, told her everything about how he viewed her marriage, where he believed his grandson’s loyalties lay.

The thought of those hanging bodies came back to her in an instant and she suddenly felt too sick to hold his gaze. 

Her father wouldn’t bend to the whims of Otto Hightower. If he returned, it would only be a matter of time before he was forced to the noose. 

The thought made her already frayed nerves twist even further, as if a fist was clenching tighter around her heart. 

Dinner passed as tensely as it began, with little words spared amongst the family. 

Even Aemond remained quiet as they found themselves back in their chambers. He had taken his usual spot on the couch by the hearth, his expression indecipherable. She sat at his side, her gaze drifting to him occasionally, unease growing within her the longer she was unable to make out what he was feeling. 

“I should write to my father.” She finally broke the tense silence between them. “He should know about Viserys.”

“You should write to your father.” Aemond affirmed stiffly, his eyes locked onto the fire. “Tell him not to come back.”

Her head snapped up, her widened eyes looking to her husband in disbelief, fear overtaking every ounce of her senses. 

“He will not fight for Rhaenyra’s cause.” 

“No, he will not fight for any cause.” Aemond knew of Ixtal’s history and his good father was too great a man to change the laws of his land for a war of succession that had nothing to do with him. “That will be enough for my Grandsire.”

Her breath caught in her throat, tears brimming in her eyes at the insinuation. Despite the terror that flowed through her veins, loneliness crept forward. Without her father, she scarcely had anyone in her corner. 

Aemond and Helaena were the only ones she had and she hardly felt as though they were in any state to provide comfort as they approached the brink of a family war. 

“Am I in danger here?” She choked out. 

The indifferent air around Aemond shattered in an instant. He was on his feet, moving towards her in a second. He kneeled before her, taking her hands in his, his face softer than she had seen it all day. 

“I would never let anyone hurt you.”

His words, which should have been comforting, only made more tears fall from her eyes. 

As Aemond hugged her tightly, whispering assurances, she couldn’t help but feel the pit of dread in her stomach grow, hating herself for not believing his words. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Aemond or his capabilities to protect her, but she knew with the beginning of a war, there would be much out of his control. 

As her husband held her, she wondered if she, just a mere lady that by no means matched the power of the family she married into, were to be a casualty in the war of dragons.

She wondered when the next bloody domino would fall.

~~

The days passed as if everyone was holding their breath. Rhaenyra had refused Alicent’s bridge of friendship. The Blacks were not backing down. 

War was upon them. 

Their first step was to gain allies. Aemond was commanded to fly to Storm’s End to barter with Borros Baratheon to join the fight for Aegon’s cause. 

His departure left her feeling exposed, like a lonely sheep out in the herd of dragons that were frothing at the mouth. She spent most of the day secluded in their chambers, anxiously awaiting his return.

She was curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, reading her favorite book from the library, which was unsurprisingly one of the books Aemond had read to her in her first week at King’s Landing, signaling the beginning of their budding friendship. 

The rain pounded against the window, her attention caught between the words on the page and the raging storm outside. She unintentionally shivered and rubbed the small swell of her belly, thinking of her husband bearing the wicked weather outside, her worry growing tenfold once again.

It was bad enough to think of her husband out there, gaining allies for a war that could destroy them all, it was even worse to think of her husband’s grandfather who desperately wanted her husband to wed for allyship. 

Even after their marriage it was as if she didn’t exist to the cunning man. 

She continued to read for a few more minutes, the more she yawned, the closer she became to retiring for the night. 

Her peace was disrupted as her chamber doors swung open forcefully, startling her. She dropped her book and abruptly turned in her spot, fearful until she saw her husband stride into the room. 

She let out a long breath of relief, standing to her feet to greet him, an involuntary smile growing on her face at his safe return. 

The second her gaze met his and she noticed the drenched hair that stuck to his face did her worry begin to grow. But it was the moment she looked into his eye and saw the grief, the regret, the pure terror that radiated from him did her heart drop to her stomach.

“Aemond?” She called out quietly. 

“I- I didn’t… it was an accident. I wasn’t-” His voice was quiet, sounding more fragile than she thought she had ever heard him. 

She took a tentative step forwards and, realizing he wasn’t flinching away from her approach, continued until she was standing before him, her hands reaching up to cradle his jaw, wincing slightly as she felt his cold skin against her warm palms. 

“What happened?” 

Her heart was racing, expecting the worst, ready to hear the horrible scenario she’d been anticipating, how his grandfather had manipulated the situation to his benefit, that she’d lose him to a Baratheon girl. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He whispered, his gaze bowing to the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. 

“Aemond, what happened?” She asked, her voice holding more force, realizing he was trapped in a daze, that she wouldn’t get a straight answer unless she pushed. 

“Lucerys was there.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her fears suddenly shifting, jumping to no better conclusions. 

“I just wanted to scare him.” 

The whispered confession was enough to stop her heart. Her wide eyes watched her husband warily. She knew what he was insinuating but she didn’t want to believe it. 

“Aemond…”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him. Vhagar wouldn’t listen.” 

A shaking breath escaped her. As Aemond’s head lowered to rest on her shoulders her mind didn’t even think as she wrapped her arms around his dripping and shaking form, bringing him in close, holding him tightly, not caring as her nightgown became soaked with the rain that clung to him. 

She could feel his racing heart thundering against her own chest as she hugged him, his fear causing her own to rise to the surface. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, the only coherent thought he was able to grab in his turmoil. No matter what satisfaction or revenge he felt he was able to gain from Vhagar’s brutal attack, he knew what it meant, what would transpire because of his rash chase. 

A war had started, his family was in danger. 

His wife was in danger. Their child that grew within her was in danger.

No amount of revenge would make up for that. 

He would never admit it outloud, though he was sure his wife knew him well enough to tell. For the first time he could remember in years, he was scared. 

That night, as his wife lay sleeping beside him, he lay wide awake, his heart continuing its racing rhythm. His hand lay on her stomach, the smallest growing bump revealing the sign of life that lay inside. 

He let out a shaking breath, his fingers gently caressing the skin that protected their child. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, the guilt overwhelming him. His child would be born into war, their safety threatened before they could even draw breath and it was because of him.

~~

Rhaenyra wiped her tears, her blank stare remaining on the flames of the hearth as her grief tore her heart inside out. 

“We have to act soon.” 

Daemon’s voice cut through her haze and she looked over at him with a deep frown.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t let those Green cunts think they’ve gotten away with this. We need retribution.”

He skirted around what he truly wanted to say. He knew Rhaenyra would never agree to a slaughter but he hoped her grief would be enough to force her hand, to finally take a stand in the war. 

“What do you propose we do?”

“We cannot risk going after Aemond. He rides the biggest dragon, he knows the blade well, he could fight off anyone we send to him.”

“So he is untouchable.”

“No.” Daemon countered quickly. “We will strike him in a different manner.”

Rhaenyra looked at her husband incredulously, confused as to what he was planning.

“Who does that one-eyed cunt love more than anything?”

Daemon’s words made her eyes widen as she sat up straighter, her body becoming stiff with dread.

“No.”

“Rhaeny-”

“No, not her.”

“His son is not born yet, there is no other way to get revenge for what he has done.”

“She has been nothing but kind to me and my family. She and her innocent babe don’t deserve to be slaughtered.”

“She married the cunt! She’s knee deep in the pit of vipers, she is not innocent. You think she’ll fight for your cause? You think she’ll be loyal to you over her own husband?” Daemon yelled, getting to his feet angrily. 

“It’s war, Rhaenyra. People fall at the hands of its brutality every day. You’ve already lost your son, what more do they need to take from you before you take a stand? Before you show them the dragon you are?”

Rhaenyra wrung her hands anxiously, thoughts of her fallen son causing tears to fall steadily down her cheeks, her grief overtaking the guilt she felt for the Ixtal girl.

“Make sure it is quick. That she does not suffer.”

~~

Aemond could tell she was more reserved than she had ever been. The fallout of Lucerys’ death had both of them fearful. He couldn’t deny the feelings of regret he hid below the surface. He wouldn’t be one to mourn the one who carved his eye out, but the apprehension he faced from the court cut him deeply, the knowledge of what he was now, turned his stomach.

A kinslayer.

He was always either passed over or looked upon hesitantly by the Lords and Ladies of the court, his cold demeanor was enough to have people side stepping out of his way, not to mention the missing eye that still, even years later, made Ladies cower in fear, disgusted by the sight of him.

After news of Storm’s End reached the court, his reputation became that of a ruthless killer. Maids actively scurried away from him, averting their fearful gazes in fear of poking the proverbial dragon, of incurring his seemingly bloodthirsty temper. 

The war about to unfold before them paled in comparison to the war raging within him. 

He couldn’t very well tell his brother their first move in this war had been a mistake, that he felt turmoil over his actions his own King was praising. He had to put on a front of a stone-cold warrior, an unrelenting soldier that stared into the face of death with no fear. 

He couldn’t tell his family, his brother, his grandfather, how wrong he felt it was. They praised his actions and he had to ignore the way he wanted to writhe in discomfort under their accolades, he had to ignore the horror on his mother’s face. 

He had to ignore the fear he had instilled in his wife, a feat that always left him feeling sick with guilt. 

They knew there would be retribution, but Aegon was refusing to accept the gravity of his actions. He wanted to bask in their triumph, however little it may be, despite the implications it had for their future. 

His stomach turned as he told his wife of the feast to be held that night, their allies gathering to celebrate and toast to the death of Lucerys Velaryon. 

She had silently turned from him, beginning to ready herself, preparing to be the dutiful wife at his side and hide how disgusted she was to play a part in this senseless conflict. 

He hated himself for putting her in this position. 

He knew she saw how much he hid his true feelings, how he had to force himself to take the praise for playing the first hand, no matter how much he regretted knocking the first chess piece down that would spark violence across the realm. 

She saw right through him and he knew it ate away at her to see him take on this role to sate his family, people who had always taken him for granted, who now saw him as nothing more than a soldier and a dragon rider. 

She could not hide her distaste for the celebration around her. She did not hold much love for Lucerys Velaryon, especially not after how he had maimed her husband, but to celebrate his death with such vigor sickened her to her stomach. 

He was only a child and it left guilt to fester within her at her participation in such an event. She looked to Aegon who was holding court effortlessly with a crowd of drunken Lords, the sight of his wide smile only deepening her scowl.

He came from a family of dragons, rode his own, yet here he was, celebrating the death of such a magnificent creature. 

She stared down at the plate of food in front of her, knowing it was more than her ever-changing pregnancy cravings that left her without desire to touch an ounce of it. 

“Darling?” The voice at her side broke her out of her stupor and she turned her attention to her husband who was eyeing her worriedly. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” She explained simply, though she knew Aemond knew her better and would see through such a flimsy excuse. She knew he didn’t believe her as his gaze lingered thoughtfully. 

“Love, you should-”

Raucous jeers cut off his concerns, the crowd swarming a jeering Aegon becoming louder and more riotous as more Lords joined in. 

She watched, barely able to hide her disgust as they cheered for the death of a child, for the beginning of a war that would surely kill thousands. She caught the cheered cries of ‘the bastard is dead’ and knew she would soon reach her breaking point.

She thought of Rhaenyra. She wasn’t overly fond of her as she used to be as a child, but the thought of the torment she was enduring with the loss of her child made her insides twist.  

She pushed her chair out, the offending sound of the legs on the floor below her abruptly catching Aemond’s attention, who immediately stood as she did, his hand finding the small of her back. 

“Are you alright? Are you feeling unwell?” He asked worriedly, the concern she saw in his eye enough to have the lump that was already growing in her throat threaten to steal her breath. 

Her sorrowful eyes met Aemond’s, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the discomfort in her gaze. 

“I can’t be here.” She breathed out and quickly removed herself from his hold, quick enough to avoid the gentle hand that moved to caress her barely there bump as he did every time she parted from his side. Her gait was quick as she weaved through the crowds, anxious to leave the hall as quickly as she could.

He watched her leave, the guilt bubbling within him yet again. He had only taken one step before his grandsire’s authoritative voice sounded, the harsh call of his name all the warning Aemond needed. 

He grit his teeth, anguish overtaking him as he realized he couldn’t leave. 

He was left to stare defeatedly at the doors, long after she had walked through them, until he finally sank into his chair, his gaze lowered to his fingers that traced the intricate designs on the goblet of wine in front of him. 

He did this. 

He started the war that would put his entire family in danger. His actions were what caused his wife to look at him with apprehension, what caused the dreaded looks of fear his way, what caused this entire celebration he knew revolted her. 

He was the reason she had to leave. No one but him caused this. 

Back in their chamber, she sat at her vanity, brushing her hair, her stomach twisting and turning. She had dismissed her maid for the night, though she knew with the worried look that crossed the young girl’s face it wouldn’t be long until she was checked on again. 

She sighed, the sick feeling lingering as she rose to her feet, the ache in her body leaving her desperate for her bed. 

She just hoped she was asleep before Aemond returned. She couldn’t stand to see him look so upset. 

A sound from across the room caught her attention and she turned on her heel slowly, exhaustion seeping through her as she pictured her husband following after her, dreading a fight breaking out, but she stilled, fear freezing the blood in her veins as she locked eyes with an unfamiliar man on the other side of her chambers. 

He smiled, a wicked sight that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, the bloodthirsty hatred in his eyes causing dread to settle within her. It all suddenly clicked into place, who this man was, who sent him, why he was there. 

She knew. 

Her death was to be one of revenge.

As her breath steadily began to quicken, her eyes darted towards the closed door, but before she could make an attempt to run, he was charging forward. 

His rough hand grabbed a fistful of her hair, dragging her back into his sturdy form. The breath was knocked out of her as his arms wrapped around her tightly, trapping her arms at her sides. 

“Pretty Princess. You know better than to run.” The man crooned in ear, making her wince and flinch away from the brush of his lips against her skin. 

Her face creased in pain, a soft whimper leaving her as he tightened his grip around her and she suddenly feared her ribs would soon crack under his force. 

“Daemon said to be quick, to spare you the pain, but he didn’t tell me how pretty you’d be.” He taunted. “I think I’ll take my time with you.”

Pure terror had taken over every one of her senses, she thought of the life growing inside of her and it quickly brought tears to her eyes at the dreadful thought that her poor babe was doomed, never to reach the waiting arms of his parents who already loved him deeply. 

She squirmed against the man’s grip, struggling against his arms. He growled at her stubbornness and pushed her away from him, turning her to deliver a sturdy slap to her cheek. She lost her footing at the force of his blow, landing heavily on her front on the hard floor. 

Her eyes widened, her arms shaking as she pushed herself up, her eyes locked onto the barely there bump where her child grew. Her lip trembled, her happy future with Aemond and their child flashing before her eyes as it crumbled before her in real time. 

The man was on her quick and she screamed as she viciously kicked and clawed at him. A hearty kick to his groin was enough to subdue him long enough to allow her to get back to her feet. She moved as quickly as she could in her stunned state, managing to pull the heavy door open. 

The man was at her back just as quickly, his heavy hand slamming the door closed and seizing her frame that now seemed smaller than she could have ever conceived under his large hands. He tossed her to the side, a stunted cough forced out of her as she collided with the frame of the bed. 

Outside the room, her maid rushed forward, having heard the loud slam of the door from down the hall. Her eyes widened as she heard a crash followed by a cry of pain. She let out a shuddering breath, tears brimming in her eyes as she forced her feet to move, beginning to sprint down the hall to find help.

Another blow to her face disoriented her, the pain unlike anything she had ever felt before. She continued to struggle, realizing her death was imminent, but content to leave this world having made it entirely inconvenient for her assailant. 

It was the least she could do for the babe inside her she couldn’t save. 

The man threw her to the ground, his hate filled eyes taking her in with a greedy bloodlust she had never seen before. He gave a swift kick to her stomach, her cries fueling his demented thrill as he gave a few more for his own amusement. He kneeled before her, pulling a dagger from his belt. Her eyes widened and in one last ditch effort, thrust her hand out just as he brought the blade down.  

She screamed as the blade tore through the palm of her hand. Her entire body shook with the pain that radiated from her hand, the blood pouring out of the gruesome wound, staining the nightgown she wore. 

With her other hand, she scratched at the man’s face, her nails finding his eyes, gouging blindly, trying to disarm him anyway she could. He growled in pain, pushing more weight down, the blade still stuck in her hand forcing its way deeper, causing her to cry out, her eyes locked onto the weapon with terror as it loomed closer and closer to her.

He suddenly yanked the dagger back, another scream tearing out of her throat as the blade tore more of her skin. He swung down again and her hands gripped at his arm, stopping the blade just inches before it stuck true.

Across the Keep, the spindly maid raced into the feast, shoving her way through the crowds to get to the head table. 

Her disheveled appearance quickly caught the royals’ attention, their brows raising in indignation as she panted for breath, the picture of unseemly behavior. 

Alicent was seconds away from scolding her until the mousy girl opened her mouth.

“My Prince.. It’s… your wife… she’s-” The maid panted for breath, but her measly few words were enough for Aemond to understand and make his blood run cold. 

His eye widened with fear before darkening in realization. He stood so quickly his chair fell to the ground and the rest of his family watched, astonished, barely able to comprehend what was happening, before he was sprinting out of the room. His stomach lurched, feeling as though he was going to be sick as he ran out of the hall. 

He could hear his heart beat in his ears as he ran, the fear gripping his heart so tightly he thought it would kill him, that he would drop dead any second out of pure terror for what waited for him. 

In their shared chambers, her strength was fading, the wound in her hand throbbed, the blood that soaked her arm making her grip slick, her arms shaking as she held onto the man’s wrist, the only thing stopping him from bringing his dagger down into her heart. 

Her grip wavered, the dagger inching closer and closer as she began to lose her will to fight, her body aching, screaming at her to just give in and end the torment. 

Her chest was heaving, soft sobs leaving her lips as she began to make peace with her fate. 

As quickly as her mind had succumbed, resigned to her death, the pressure against her suddenly fell slack. 

The feeling of warmth spraying across her face made her flinch. She watched, her eyes wide and filled with terror, as the man atop her grunted in pain. His hate filled expression falling slack, blood pooling out of his mouth. 

A shuddering breath escaped her, the sight of the tip of the sword protruding from his chest causing a sob to break out of her chest. 

It was over. 

The man fell and before she knew it, strong hands were grabbing her, pulling her out from under the man who was now dead at her feet. 

She screamed in fright as she was scooped up into strong arms and she began to struggle, feebly pushing at the person holding her. 

“Shh, it’s me, my love. It’s Aemond.” His frantic voice met her ears. “It’s me. I have you, you’re safe now.” 

Tears streamed down her cheeks steadily, her breathing quick and heavy as she sobbed, her exhausted body giving up its fight as she slumped against her husband. 

Aemond let out shaking breaths, his trembling hands holding her tightly, his heart racing wildly. The terror he had felt the moment he stormed into their chambers and saw her under that man, the bloody dagger in his hands so close to her heart was enough to stop his own. 

He cradled his wife closely, pressing kisses to her hair as he whispered that she was safe over and over, though it did nothing to soothe her of the violent trembling that had overtaken her body. 

He looked down, his face twisting in agony at the sight of the brutal gash in her hand, of the blood that steadily flowed down the length of her arm, feeling sick at the thought of what that bastard had done to her. The sight of her busted lip ignited his anger all over again and he wanted nothing more than to kill that wretch a thousand times over for the hurt he caused his beloved. 

She suddenly groaned in pain, her body stiffening against him. He looked over her worriedly as she began to writhe in his arms, her pained whimpers growing louder. He was terrified, his gaze frantically searching for a life threatening wound he had missed and he soon caught sight of the growing pool of blood beneath her thighs, red blooming on the front of her nightgown. 

His stomach dropped, his throat tightening as sheer agony lanced him like a whip. 

No, not our child.

“Get a Maester!” He screamed to the guards who lingered at the door who had been taking in the scene before them with horror. 

His sight soon became blurry as tears brimmed in his eye and swiftly fell down his face. He held her tighter, his face twisting in agony as he began to cry with her. 

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” He choked out, his heart cracking as she wailed in his arms. Each of her cries chipping away at another piece of him. 

It was all a blur to her. 

She gripped onto his tightly as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the Maester’s quarters. She kept her eyes shut, as if she could block out her waking nightmare, as if she could convince herself it wasn’t real. 

As she was laid on the bed, the only thing she could make sense of was Aemond’s arms that left her, causing her fear to spike again, her cries becoming more forceful as she desperately sought out her only beacon of comfort through her blurry gaze. 

“I’m here, issa prūmia. I’m not leaving.” Aemond’s voice sounded throughout the chaos. 

A sturdy hand soon gripped hers, making her relax, knowing it was him. It felt like hours, each second passing like an eternity as she was examined and stitched up. She barely felt anything at all. 

Nothing compared to the pain in her heart. The only thing she could comprehend were the agonizing cramps that signaled her loss, the end of the life she and her husband had created, the life they already cherished. 

Aemond watched his wife intently, swallowing thickly as he noticed she didn’t even flinch as they thread the needle through her palm. He winced and even had to look away as the Maester began working on the other side of her hand, realizing the blade had gone right through. 

Once they finished with her hand, he motioned for the Maester to hand over the damp cloth he grabbed, silently telling him he would handle the next step. Thankfully, the old man handed it over without protest and stood to grab some milk of the poppy. 

Aemond began to gently dab at her split lip, wiping away the blood as carefully as he could so as to not cause her any more pain. She’d felt enough for a lifetime tonight.

A flurry behind him barely caught his attention, though he stayed looking at his wife, not bothering to acknowledge the presence of another. 

“Aemond.” His mother breathed out, horror painting her gaze as she noticed the stark red blood that stained her good daughter’s legs and gown. 

She placed a shaking hand over her mouth, realizing what it had meant, realizing what her son had just lost. 

She moved forward on weak legs, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder, who still refused to look her way, his attention focused solely on his wife who lay despondent on the bed, her glassy eyed stare vacant and tortured, signaling she was miles away in torment, reliving the attack over and over again.

Alicent felt tears brim in her eyes and when she looked down at her son and noticed the tear tracks down his cheeks she was powerless to stop her own from falling. 

Aemond watched as the Maester brought a hearty dose of milk of the poppy. His gaze stayed locked onto his wife, his hand still holding hers, his fingers caressing gentle patterns over her knuckles, his whispered reassurances the last thing she heard as her eyes fluttered closed, the medicine quickly dulling her senses. 

He watched her breathe deeply in sleep for a long moment, as if needing to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest to assure himself that she was truly here, that despite the attempt, she still lived. 

He was left in a daze, the sounds around him dimming to nothing but an unnoticeable thrum in his ears. The sound of her cries was the only thing he heard, over and over again, the memory of them haunting him, causing him to feel as though he was seconds from losing the food in his stomach. 

His mother’s words didn’t reach his ears, he was numb to her comforting hand on his shoulder. He was numb to everything but his pain. 

Someone had tried to take the greatest thing from him, they had almost taken his love from him. He couldn’t even rejoice in the fact that she was still there with him, not with the despair of the loss of their child weighing so heavily on him. 

Relief wasn’t a feeling he could allow himself to reach. 

Soon, his mother gave up trying to get through to him, leaving the room with one last tearful glance to her son whose world had just crumbled before him. Just minutes later, the Maester stood, giving a polite bow as he moved to the door, leaving the couple for the night to heal the wounds he couldn’t bandage, his parting words sending a shiver down Aemond’s spine. 

I’m sorry for your loss.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. Those words made it real. 

There was now no denying the truth. Their child was gone. They wouldn’t soon have a little babe to hold and spoil. 

Aemond thought of the little boy he had pictured since she had told him she was pregnant. To think of him gone, to never grow, to never say a word, to never be held in his arms, was too much to bear. 

His chest felt tight, his throat suddenly feeling like it was closing in on itself, preventing him from taking in a breath. His eye burned, the tears stinging like acid. His face creased in despair, bringing his hand, that was still clutched to his wife’s hand, to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as the tears began to fall again. 

A choked sob escaped him, the loss leaving him feeling as though the weight of the world was crushing him. 

He let himself cry, expelling everything he needed to, thankful his wife remained sleeping. He knew his tears would only hurt her further. She was the one whose life had been threatened, he needed to be strong for her, he needed to be the one to hold her as she broke. 

Aemond forced himself to watch over her as long as he could, eyeing her steady breaths, every one of them a salve for the horror he had witnessed while that blood soaked dagger was pointed at her. 

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he had let his eye fall closed and drifted off to a fitful sleep as the sun began to rise. 

What seemed like only seconds later, he jerked awake, at first forgetting where he was, but the moment he felt the ache in his back, he was reminded that he was in the chair in the Maester’s solar. He remembered the attack, he remembered the blood, he remembered her cries, and he remembered their child.

I’m sorry for your loss.

The words burned him like fire and he breathed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the pounding in his head. He shifted in the chair, wincing as his joints popped painfully from the uncomfortable position he had taken for the night. 

He rubbed his tired eye, blindly reaching out to the bed to take his wife’s hand in his yet again, but as his touch met the barren sheets of the bed, he sat up straighter, suddenly alert as he stared down at the empty bed before him with fear. 

The sight of the blood that stained sheets a lance through his heart, only propelling him deeper into fear.

Shooting up from his chair, he raced out of the room, his bewildered gaze meeting the startled expression of the guard at the door. 

“Where’s my wife?” He asked frantically.

“She left the room just a few minutes ago.” 

Aemond fumed silently, his hands clenching into fists as he fought the urge to pummel the man before him.

“And you didn’t think to follow her?” He seethed, the guard before him taking a cautious step backwards in fear of the flaming temper exploding before him. 

“The Princess seemed upset, I did not want to intrude-”

Aemond did not spare him a second look as he took off down the hall, pushing servants out of his way as he raced out of the Keep. 

He knew after last night, no one who had gone through what his wife had endured would be in their right mind. He feared what she would do, what her grieving mind would offer as solace that he was sure she so desperately was seeking. 

He slowed his pace in the middle of the courtyard, looking around frantically at the many stairs and exits she could have taken. 

He squeezed his eye shut, breathing heavily, his mind racing, the terror he was feeling yet again in such a short amount of time not allowing him to think clearly. 

Where would she go?

He wracked his mind, thinking of all their years together. He knew her better than anyone. If he couldn’t figure out where she would seek solace, then he didn’t deserve to be her husband. 

The sound of seabirds reached him through his daze and he spun on his heel, his gaze locking onto the birds that flew over the water. 

She loved the sea, she loved the waves of Ixtal. She always said they were healing. He remembered memories from his childhood, of her hand in his as they ran through the waves at the shore. 

He was running again before he could even comprehend it. 

Aemond’s chest was heaving from sprinting the entire way, his heart beat pounding in his ears as he stumbled over the rocks to get to the sandy shore. 

He almost stumbled over his own feet as his gaze fell on her figure down the coast line. 

He let out a shaking breath, muttering a breathless thank you to the Gods to see her sitting there and not floating face down in the water as his tortured mind had conjured. 

He approached her slowly, his face drawn tightly with concern as he noticed the dried tears that stained her cheeks once he was close enough. 

He said nothing as he sat himself down beside her, ignoring the feeling of the damp sand beneath him. He extended his legs, letting the waves crash against his feet, mirroring her stance. 

She didn’t make any move to acknowledge him, her gaze lingering on the horizon, the despair in her eyes never wavering. 

It broke his heart to see her in this state. The woman he loved was vibrant, she had a lust for life he always found impossible to grab yet infectious. He had never seen her light so dim and it broke something in him. 

He reached out, taking her hand in his, his silent assurance to her that he was there for her as he knew no words could ever reach what either of them felt or needed to handle their loss. 

“I want to go home.” Her weak voice choked out after a long silence. 

Aemond’s breath hitched at the sound of her so broken. He didn’t have any words, nothing he could say to comfort her. He couldn’t very well let her leave where he couldn’t follow, leaving her unprotected. 

He would die before he left her side. 

To deny her anything crushed him, but he couldn’t help but revert to selfishness. He couldn’t leave King’s Landing, not in the midst of a war and the thought of letting her leave his side wasn’t even a thought in his head. 

He wrapped his arm around her, his concern growing when he felt the chill of her skin. 

“Let’s go back to our chambers.” He spoke softly, using what little strength his drained body had left as he lifted her up to her feet, his arms holding her tightly, her guiding force to help her back in her daze. 

As they walked along the beach, beginning to make their way back to the Keep that now only held dreaded memories, he felt his eye sting again, his vision quickly becoming blurry.

He breathed deeply, holding tighter to his wife in his arms, blinking rapidly to stave off the tears that threatened to fall. 

He pushed past the feelings of grief that felt like they could drown him and put on a mask, pretending he wasn’t dying inside. 

~~

I'm sorry... the angst is only going to continue

~~

Tag List:

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Devotion & Deceit

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: Upon learning Rhysand intends to go through with his proposal, you begin to deteriorate. Your mates complete disregard for your concerns leaves you making some brash decisions of your own.

Read pt.1 to Devotion & Deceit - HERE

Read pt.4 - HERE

Warnings: Descriptions of trauma, Panic Attacks, Blood, Depression, Brief mentions of self harm.

You weren’t able to get up out of bed, and despite Azriels visits and multiple attempts, he couldn’t get you up either. Even though the majority of your time was spent in the small bedroom of that log cabin, very little time was spent actually sleeping in it. The miniscule amount of sleep you did get was broken by you jolting awake in the dead of night only to cry until the sun peaked through the cracks of the drapes that remained closed no matter what time of day.

The meals that Azriel brought to you remained ignored and untouched on the nightstand, to be removed by him the next day with a fresh platter in the hopes that you would at least pick through it. On occasion the smell would have you scrambling for the toilet, thin figure peeled over the side as you dry heaved into the bowl. The meals eventually reduced to small snacks the more often it happened, making you feel the slightest hint of guilt which only had you burrowing further into the sheets.

Niliana’s best efforts didn’t seem to shake you either, she’d come by to give you the latest spiel of the gossip in town, or brush out your hair as you laid in bed. She came by every day for the better part of a month, until the work she put off caught up to her, sending the wraith scrambling to catch up. She no longer came by.

Rhys hadn’t sent a word down the bond. Not a flicker of emotion, pain, even a thought. Just.. nothing. He was completely shut off from you. Not like you could complain, you did the exact same to him, going completely MIA.

“Have you two spoken?” Azriel said from the doorway, a glass of water in hand along with a small rag that undoubtedly held more food he wanted you to shove down your throat. Azriel sighed as he saw your eyes fall on the item, a grimace gracing your features. You muttered a soft “no” as he padded towards the bed, hand outstretched in a silent plea for you to sit up.

You groaned, sitting up as you rubbed your eyes, the dark circles surrounding them making you look like you had taken a beating. “I need to change anyways.” You croaked; voice rough as you swung your legs over the side of the bed.

You had visibly lost weight, your legs looking like if you look a step they’d crack under the pressure. You couldn’t bring yourself to care even the slightest bit. Ever since he had chosen her. Left his mate to rot in this stupid log cabin as if you meant nothing to him. Chose her again just like he did Under the Mountain, while Amarantha forced you to watch every night as she danced for him in that skimpy little outfit. But even then, you understood, then you knew that he was doing it for you- doing what was necessary.

What you didn’t understand was this. It had ended, you had run to him in that arena like you had wanted to for fifty years. You had clung to him like he was your lifeline. Five decades of Amarantha using you as her slave, only allowing you to see Rhys when he was tangled up with her. Always by her side.

And he had chosen someone else over you- yet again.

Azriel broke your thoughts by holding out the glass to you, and you rose from the bed, taking it in your frail hands, slightly shaky from the lack of vitamins. You brought it to your mouth, letting the chill of the glass rest on your bottom lip as you swallowed a few mouthfuls of the liquid. It didn’t go down easy, the cold making you recoil slightly as you swallowed the last bit.

You turned back to hand the glass back to Azriel, but he was frozen, face pale as he looked at you. His shadows swarmed him, moving around him in a frenzy, curling towards his ears, flicking around his waist. He stared at the glass you held out to him, and you slowly retracted your hand as you realize he was too caught up in whatever his shadows were whispering to him.

Your face fell, and the corners of your mouth downturned into a poorly concealed frown. “Is she there?” You asked, the question falling out of you before you could do anything to stop it, not that you could’ve. You didn’t know why you needed to know so bad, your body ached with the question, your hand gripping the glass tighter in an unexplainable want.  His mouth opened like he was going to speak, but immediately shut closed as he hesitated. He didn’t need to say it, you knew.

You knew, you always knew.

Something in you snapped, and like a cage being unlocked, a fiery, all-consuming fury burst through the bars and swallowed you whole. The feeling swamped you like a tidal wave, your arm cocking back, barely feeling the glass slipping from your grasp as you sent it soaring straight at the wall.

The glass shattered immediately upon impact, the sound breaking the comforting stillness of the room, making Azriel flinch. Shards of glass and remnants of water were blown back at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you felt the water drench the front of your shirt. The cloth stuck to your ribcage, the frigid wetness not registering in the slightest. You felt a shard slice your cheek open as it grazed you, and other bits of glass embed themselves into you as you heard the tinkle of the pieces falling to the floor, a few skittering across the ground.

“I’M NOT STAYING HERE!” You roared, hands coming to cradle your head, hands fisted in your hair. You pulled at the roots, clung to them like they’d offer some grain of comfort as your breathing began to speed up. The room was spinning, everything was spinning.

And you were Under the Mountain again- you were cold and wet. It was dark, your cell was too small. You could feel the dirt and grime and how it was caked under your fingernails like the dust had engraved itself onto you. Your matted hair and the feeling of the violent tugs as you ripped it out. But that was your hair- you could feel it between your fingers. You couldn’t breathe- God, why couldn’t you breathe.

“Get your shit together!” Azriel yelled, jolting you as he forced you to stop spiraling, hands clamping down on your wrists as you stilled. His grip dug into your skin, and you finally surfaced from the hurricane in your head enough to realize you were holding clumps of your hair in your hands. The thin strands hung from your fingers like a morbid Solstice decoration, and you vaguely recognized the sting that told you that you had bitten through your bottom lip in your haste.

You stared at him wide eyed, feeling the burn of your tears leaking into the cut on your cheek. You flinched as you felt a drop of blood hit your forearm, and looked down soon enough to watch the crimson run down the expanse towards your elbow. It stained your skin, and you watched as another drop landed right beside it. You were bleeding, you could feel as it ran down your cheek, over your jaw, mingling with the blood that dripped from your lip down your chin.

“Do you think if you destroy yourself enough that he’ll come save you like he did for Feyre?”

It dawned on you then, just how much you had ruined yourself. You had turned into the very thing you had hated Feyre for. The very thing that had Rhys tripping over himself to go and fix, just like he did for her Under the Mountain.

Yet he didn’t come for you.

“I can’t stay here.” You whispered, bottom lip trembling.

“Then you won’t.” Azriel said, letting go of your wrists.

Azriel had helped you calm down and think of what you were going to pack, not that you were taking much with you, the very idea of having anything to remind you of your time here made you want to throw up whatever was left in your stomach. You settled for a small change of clothes, your hands smoothing over the wrinkles as you folded the articles.

“Have you even decided where you’re going?” Azriel asked as he perched on the bed beside you. You shoved the small shirt you were folding into your bag, eyes trailing over to him as he waited on your answer. The drapes had been opened after your breakdown, making the light glint off Azriel’s siphons as he shifted, hands coming to perch on his knees. You shrugged, eyes stinging the slightest bit as they still needed time to adjust to the newly introduced light that you’d been avoiding for weeks. “Home.” You answered simply, finishing shoving your change of clothes into the small pack you now slid over your shoulder.

Azriel bristled, head cocking back as he questioned “The Winter Court?” The dresser at the corner of the room suddenly became very interesting as he made no attempt to hide his concern. “Yep.” You licked your lips, tongue smoothing over the teeth marks that had made a small crater in your bottom lip, the indent making you sigh. “That’s one hell of a flight.” You tucked your knife into the sheath on your thigh, the metal making a grating sound against the studded leather that had you cringing. “It’s not like I could winnow in if I wanted to.”

It's there, then that perhaps Azriel had begun to understand your insatiable need to flee. To leave everything that you had created, the life you’d built, everything that you are. Maybe he had sensed it subconsciously when he had found you that day on the border of the Night Court.

Azriel knew why you couldn’t winnow, it had always been a silent understanding between you two, and exactly the reason he hadn’t touched on it when your training had begun all those years ago. Not that you had gone into detail about what had happened in the middle, what you went through during your journey. But with Azriel being a spymaster, it hadn’t taken him long to fill in the blanks. He knew enough, and he had decided he didn’t need to know anymore- didn’t want to.

But even after you had gotten so used to running, the instinct carved so deep into your blood not even The Mother could undo it, he still had a small pit of anxiety sitting in his stomach that never quite went away. It was out of love, out of an uncontainable fear that history would repeat itself that he swished his hand over towards you, a shadow stirring to life, swirling around your waist and anchoring itself to you.

You watched how it swam and twirled around you, scurrying up your hand and over your arm. “Really?” You had asked, a light, barely there hint of amusement twinged your tone, and he rolled his eyes in response. But when he turned to you, his expression was deadly serious, almost concerned. This man, who had cared for a scared, young Illyrian girl who had somehow crawled her way to the border. Who had taught her how to fly, how to live, how to control the magic that wanted to burst out of her as if it was overflowing. He looked up at you, lips pursed. “You might see her again, you know.” He said, barely a murmur, almost scared that the words he spoke would conjure them to life.

Your eyes flickered to him as you shoved the last dagger into your boot at your heel. “That’s the plan.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Overblot Universe (4) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Part 1 • 2 • 3• 5

There he was 

The first overblot you witnessed 

The Overblotted Riddle was as regal as ever 

Standing above your gilded bed fit for royalty decorated by arches of spinning ink 

You could see guards that looked similar to the entrapped dormmakers during the event

Standing in front of heart shaped doors that resembled an inky reflection of the Heartslabyul’s dorm

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, (Y/n). I haven’t forgotten how you ran from my forces meant to bring you home.”

“I…was just scared. Your army was fighting with Jamil’s and I just didn’t want to get in the way.”

Riddle scoffed,”You think I’d allow any of my vassals hurt you?! I thought you heard me last time we saw each other.”

His gloved hands clutched your cheeks and chin forcing you to hold his gaze

“In my world, I am the law. I am order manifest! 

The words brought back the memories again

But you couldn’t drift off especially now that Overblotted Riddle was smiling 

You could practically smell the idea of something awful coming from him

He let his ink gloved hands trail from your jaw to rest around your neck

“I have been eagerly awaiting the day I’d meet you again. For so long I’ve been replaying the sight of the collarless king working alongside those rogue cards.”

He pulled away leaving a ring of ink that tickled your skin, shaping to hug your neck letting a black splattered rose hang from it’s center

“All this time I’ve thought about having you and now I’m this close to having everything be perfect.”

You watched his eyes drift down your body, letting yourself follow his gaze 

Finding your outfit to be matching his own, you hoped it was just the ink doing its things

He beckoned you to follow him 

And the moment you deliberated you could feel the bodice of your outfit slightly squeeze 

So that was it’s purpose+

You hurriedly caught up to him minding the overwhelming line of soldiers collared and at the ready 

“Riddle what do you plan to do?”

Riddle’s distorted chuckle exploded into a diabolical laugh

Calming himself he turned over his shoulder as you both left the dorm/castle for the garden

“I’m recreating where we met of course. An unbirthday celebration that changed everything. A coronation that would have been perfect if you and those cards didn’t ruin it.”

Arriving to the entrance of the garden it was exactly as he said

The table and treats for an unbirthday party all different shades of black with that sheen that said was ink

All surrounding a grand stage where to thrones sat at the edge of it

He took your hand, more gentle than you were expecting and led you on a red carpet that led to the thrones

Out of nowhere this Riddle brought out a box setting it on a pedestal

He opened it to reveal a crown…fit for a king

“Bow, (Y/n) and receive your right as my king.”

Idia’s crown flashed in your mind making you cower instinctively

His glare was paralyzing

“Bow. (Y/n).”

The pressure around your body was intense, as if sapping your energy to make you fall to your knees

Riddle sighs,”That’s good enough.”

He places the crown on your head 

It doesn’t hurt like Idia’s but it feels hard to remove 

And as Riddle helps you stand you can feel the something wet drip from the  crown and into your eyes

But it doesn’t burn…more like clouding your vision as you were led to rest in the throne

“Now! Bring the relic! It’s power will be what finalizes your king's coronation!”

Carried by many of the soldiers was the mirror–The mirror that you originally traveled to 

“That–”

“Recognize it? This is the accursed object that let me bring you here. But it’s done it’s job and no one has any intentions of you using it again.”

“Wait but I have—to–go back!”

The overblotted Riddle gave you that sly smirk all to similar to the dormleader you knew

“You’ll find that world will fade from memory when the portal does as well.”

With a trumpet sound and coordinated shouts an ink covered axe was brought to Riddle

Despite being so close you couldn’t lift yourself from the throne, courtesy of the ensemble you were wearing

You could feel your tears blend with the ink trailing down your face as the Overblotted Queen raised his axe to smash the mirror

You tried to reach in vain as he brought the axe down

You felt as though it was helpless 

Until you heard a whisper

“(Y/n) don’t despair we wouldn’t leave you by yourself.”

A new bout of energy let you sit up

“Oh my gosh! It’s you! You’re here!”

“Hush, we’ve got to be quick the main event is on its way.”

“I summon thee cauldron!” 

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Your lips | Pt. 1

(A/N) I don't think this will be along series, but there will be at least on more part! Also, I'm no doctor, or nurse, that's why I mostly skipped over the exam part!

Pairing: Simon x fem!pregnant!Reader

Warning: mutual pining, medical stuff (nothing graphic), mention of scars, pregancy

Synopsis: Almost done with your day (and your pregnancy), you get a last minute patient. The usual stoic and guarded Ghost is immediately charmed by you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

“There is a lot I can spare you from Simon, but the medical checkups are mandatory. There is nothing I can do about that.”

Price had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyebrows were pulled together in a slight frown as he regarded his Lieutenant. Simon on the other hand just looked annoyed. There were many reasons as to why he joined the military, but being fussed over by grown people was not one of them. He opened his mouth to, surely, whip out a smart remark, but Price held up his hand before he had the chance.

“You have until tomorrow six p.m. to go to the clinic yourself, or I’ll drag you by your scruff, you hear me?”

With a defeated sigh, he nodded, before he left Price’s office. Might as well get it over with, right?

One look at your computer told you that it was almost time to go home. Your to-do list for the day was all ticked off and your list of patients had no name remaining. With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself out of your chair and onto your feet, your hand instinctively cradling your swollen belly. Your lips pulled into a smile as you felt a kick right against your hand.

With slow, even steps you made your way to the door of your office and leaned outside until you caught the secretary’s eyes. She smiled at you. But not a bright, sunny smile, no, it was a sad, apologetic smile. Your own smile faded, but you nodded before waddling back to your desk. By the time you sat down, a new patient file was displayed on your screen.

His entire name was redacted, only his callsign was displayed. Ghost. You quickly read through his file, noting that he obviously hated all medical personnel, since he barely showed his face here. By the time you were almost done, a sharp knock rang out from your door.

“Enter!”

From the heavy steps, you could discern that it was the soldier who had been added to your day last minute. Still, you kept your eyes on the screen, trying to get all the information into your head.

“Take off your shirt and sit down on the bed. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Your tone might have sounded harsh, but you quickly learned to use an authoritative tone with soldiers. Otherwise, they might not listen. Your eyes were still fixed on the screen as rustling sounded through the room, followed by the creak of the bed. Now that he was done, you slowly rose to your feet again and squeezed some sanitizer into your hand, grabbing your clipboard before waddling over to the man.

“Just a regular checkup, right?”

Your eyes finally landed on the man’s back when he grunted in response. And good lord, he had one hell of a back. Covered in scars and a few tattoos, his shoulders were broad and strong. You felt yourself blush as some not-so-innocent thoughts entered your mind and it took you a second to switch back to work mode and to stop admiring him. You dealt with soldiers all day, every day, and yet none have had that effect on you. Until now.

To distract yourself, you quickly started with the exam. Looking for any injuries, listening to his lungs and heart. Within a few minutes, you were done with his back and slowly moved to his front. You were ready to just continue the exam when your baby landed an especially firm kick against your womb. You came to a quick stop, placing your hand against the place the baby had kicked.

“Woah, you okay there, love?”

Ghost jumped to his feet, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, but you just waved him off, by now being used to it.

“I’m fine…just…pregnant with a very active baby.”

An amused huff left his lips before Ghost sat back down. And even though he looked the same as before, you noticed how his eyes were more focused now, looking for any sign of trouble. He almost seemed…protective.

After a few moments, you recovered and let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and Ghost. But you hesitated for a moment. How would you reach his chest? As if reading your thoughts, Simon spread his legs, allowing you to step between them and reach his chest. A smile tugged on your lips.

“Thanks.”

He nodded in response, keeping still while you continued your exam, only moving when you asked him to. You instinctively reached to your right, ready to take his blood pressure, but your hand came back empty, you had forgotten to bring it with you from the table. A tired sigh escaped your lips and you took a few steps in the direction of the table when Ghost placed a hand on your arm and stopped you.

“I’ll get it.”

Before you could answer, he was on his feet and already at the table, picking up the device. Something that always seemed so large in your hands was easily dwarfed in his and you couldn’t help but admire his hands. Hands which he used to kill people. Hands which surely could do unholy things to your body. Hands which…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the clearing of a throat and you finally noticed that you had been staring at his hands.

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

With flaming cheeks, you grabbed the device and swiftly pulled the sleeve up Ghost’s arm. Pressing two buttons, you watched as the sleeve slowly began to fill with air. This part was always kind of awkward since all you could do was wait. You expected it to be the same way with him, but instead, he suddenly spoke up.

“How far along are you?”

You looked up, surprise clear on your face.

“Uh, thirty-three weeks.”

A small smile pulled at your lips as you gazed at your belly, your hands softly gliding over it.

“Hm…husband must be excited.”

You chuckled dryly and shook your head as the device finally displayed the value you had been waiting for.

“No husband. No father at all, to be honest. Left as soon as he found out I was pregnant.”

If you weren’t so focused on filling out the form on your clipboard, you would have noticed Ghost’s entire body tensing up and his eyes darkening. His gaze swept over you, following your curves, as his mouth watered. How could someone abandon someone who looked this delicious?

But before his thoughts could continue, you looked up from your clipboard and smiled at him.

“All that’s left is drawing some blood. But since it’s already late, I assume you’re not sober, so could you come in tomorrow morning before breakfast? That way we can get the most accurate values.”

Ghost found himself nodding, a smile hidden behind his medical mask at the thought of seeing you again tomorrow.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You grinned before waddling back to your desk and sinking down on your chair. As soon as you were out of sight, Ghost quickly pulled his shirt on and got to his feet. He turned to look at you and for a split second, caught you staring before you quickly averted your eyes.

With a grin under his mask, he started to walk to the door, before he got an idea.

“Are you done for the day?”

You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with confusion.

“Yes, why?”

Ghost nodded and walked back into the office.

“I could accompany you to your car if you’d like. Carry your bag, you know.”

Your eyes widened, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’d like that, but I took the bus to get here. I don’t exactly fit behind the steering wheel anymore.”

“Oh, in that case, let me drive you home. You shouldn’t be on your feet that much.”

You shook your head, about to protest, but Ghost insisted and finally, you accepted. He watched you finish up your paperwork and pack up before he grabbed your bag and offered you his arm to hold onto.

With slow steps, he led you through the clinic to the doors and towards one of the base cars. One that could be used by all soldiers. On the way you gave him your address, not noticing the smile once he noted that you lived on base yourself.

After he helped you get settled and made sure you were buckled in, he got in and started the car, carefully taking off in the direction of your house. The car ride was spent in comfortable silence, and with you almost falling asleep in the passenger seat. But all too soon, the car pulled up in front of the army-issued house and Ghost quickly rounded to your side to help you get out.

He insisted on helping you get inside, only being satisfied once you sat on your couch with a glass of cold water in front of you.

“Thank you, Ghost. I really appreciated you bringing me home.”

He nodded, his mask hiding a sheepish smile and red cheeks.

“When do you start tomorrow?”

With a slight frown, you told him that you usually started at seven a.m. and he nodded, before saying goodbye and walking towards the door. But at the last second, he stopped and turned to look at you again.

“It’s Simon…my name.”

A grin spread on your lips as you nodded and slowly repeated the name, almost to yourself. But Simon heard it and he couldn’t deny that he loved how his name sounded coming from your lips.

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

Like what you're reading? Buy me a coffee!

[scalingsvt8thusiast]

Drabbles: Too Many Beds (ft. Heeseung)

Lee Heeseung knew that the universe was against him today.

“We’re so sorry sir, all the suites are unavailable as of right now.” The hotel receptionist bowed apologetically, “We only have the family room available right now, would that be ok?”

That is how he found himself standing in a room with FOUR beds. 

He dropped his bag on the floor with a sigh. 

Heeseung finally mustered up enough courage to ask you out on a short getaway after dating for a month. He had planned everything from the words he would say and the whole itinerary. 

Everything started going wrong from the flight here. The two of you were supposed to travel together, but the airline had overbooked the flight and moved you to another later flight. Heeseung had offered to delay his flight to accompany you but the airline had also overbooked the flight you were on so there was no room for him to move his flight. 

Then there was the whole plane ride. Heeseung was suppose to spend the ride talking to you and charming you, he ended up being squeezed in between an elderly couple who spent the entire ride giving him a lecture on marriage.

The worse part was he just realised he packed the same side of 2 different slippers. Great, now you were going to think he was a freak for wearing 2 left slippers. 

Heeseung slapped his palm to his forehead.

“It’s fine,” He muttered to himself, “When she’s here, it’ll be fine.”

While Heeseung was going through what seemed like the worse day of his life, you were going through the best day of your life. 

The airline had informed you that you would be bumped up to business class, so you spend the whole 3 hours in luxury. You had your own little suite and didn’t have to talk to anybody apart from the flight attendants. An absolutely perfect start to your holiday.

Because the airline had caused a delay, they offered to pay for your ride to your hotel so of course you got an airport limousine. You sat in the plush leather seats, pouring through your most recent read accompanied by a glass of champagne. 

The best part was, you had the most handsome man waiting by the main doors for you as you stepped out of the car. 

“Heeseung!” You called as you got off the car. 

The man looked up from his phone, blinking. He didn’t expect you to arrive in such a fancy car. 

When Heeseung saw you lugging your bag, he quickly ran over. Gently prying your bags from you, he guided you into the lobby. 

“I’m glad you got here safe.” He sent you a charming smile that made you weak in the knees. 

“Y-yeah.” You stuttered, following him into the lift. 

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t accompany you here.” He sighed in frustration. 

“Oh don’t worry about it!” You reassured him, “I’m a pretty adept traveller.”

“Yeah?” He grinned as he opened your room door, “Gonna tell me about it over dinner tonight?” 

You paused at the sight, “4 beds? Are other people joining us?” 

“No!” Heeseung said quickly. “The hotel messed up my reservation, I swear I wanted just one bed.”

He turned red when he realised what he was implying. 

“I mean- not that I expect anything!” Now it was his turn to stutter. “I was just hoping- I was gonna ask you properly-!” 

You giggled as you watch Heeseung malfunction, there was basically steam coming out of his ears with his face turning 10 different shades of red. 

He sighed, putting down your bags before approaching you. 

He ran his hands down your arms and laced his fingers with yours. 

“I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend,” He explained, “I had this whole thing planned with roses and balloons.”

“I’m so sorry,” His eyes searched yours, “I’ll redo everything soon.”

You gave him a soft smile, “Can I just say yes to being your girlfriend now?”

“What?” Heeseung said, eyes widening. 

“You don’t have to plan something elaborate just to ask me that, the answer will alway be yes.”

a/n: bet you all can't guess who's my bias in Enhypen. Idea came from this list.

[mrsmothermaximoff]

Missed me?

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Pairing: Stepmommy Wanda x f!reader

Tags: Stepmom x stepdaughter, fluff, daddy issues, kissing, smutty smut, more smut, fingering, oral sex, legal age gap, virginity loss

Summary: Y/N's back from college and finds out her stepmother may have missed her just as much as she did

"Your turn" Wanda's eyes went wide, "My turn? Already? S-Shouldn't I do a bit more for you first?" Her anxiousness grew rather quickly, and it was easy for you to tell with the way she batted her eyelids hard and fast, and seemed to want to look anywhere but your eyes. You kissed her face softly, placing both hands on the sides of her head, "You've taken care of me for so long Wanda," she relaxed at your tone "it's my turn to take care of you." Her body shivered at this new exciting feeling of being given attention, she's never experienced anything like this before.

"Lay down." She falls back softly on your old mattress as you lower down on her body, kissing every spot you can reach. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she gripped onto you tightly. "So beautiful" you repeated continuously, completely wrecking any insecurities she had of her body's age. "I love every single inch of you Wanda, you're so pretty, and so fucking sexy." Every word that fell off your tongue pulled her further and further from reality. You placed your hands around her waist and gently rubbed your thumbs across her clit. You couldn't hear her moan, but when you looked up she was gripping the sheets with desperation and hunger, holding back a scream you know would have surely woken even the drunkest version of your father.

"f-fuck oh" She she whined just below a whisper. "You're doing so good my Wanda" You whispered gently to her while she tried her absolute best to be quiet. "Are you-" She quickly cut you off "Fuck Y/N yes I'm ready I've been ready please I need you" You paused for a moment at her plea, then feverishly attacked her pussy with your warm desiring mouth, so anxious to please your mommy. "f-ahh-fuck me y/n fuck umh" incoherent whines and moans slipped past her lips as she held tightly to your head and began to grind against your face. You didn't mind of course, you would do anything to get this pretty lady all worked up. You slowed and carefully pushed one finger inside her entrance, and the moan she let out was almost musical.

You covered her mouth, picking her up swiftly and taking her downstairs. You laid her on the couch, "You're being too loud mommy" All it took was hearing you call her mommy one more time before she was pushed roughly over the edge, screaming as you rushed your hand on her mouth to silence her as best as you could. "Fuck" You whispered, feeling unbelievably turned on by the way she couldn't contain herself and quickly pushed your finger back into her.

She let out a silent scream and you continued devouring her. Her moans only steepened, and you pushed in another. "h-hol-fuckahhh" She cried out in such utter bliss. You licked stripes up and down her aching pussy that throbbed desperate pleas. It wasn't until you finally stuck your tongue inside of her that she let out every ounce of arousal she had built up with you, screaming and moaning your name while you smiled, pressed against her. You pressed one last chaste kiss against her core and rose up to kiss along her neck and collarbone, while she held you tight recovering and panting. "My Y/N, I love you" Your eyes welled up and heart suddenly began attempting to run a marathon. "I love you, my Wanda." You shared a warm and tender embrace with her for a few moments, before lifting her in your arms and walking her back upstairs to bed. You turned the lights off and laid her gently in the sheets, snuggling up to her, "So," You began, as she looked up at you curiously, "Missed me?"

Taglist;

@alexawynters @flositaa

[thewidowsledger]

Look Out For That Rage

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: +18, pregnant reader, pregnancy rage, emotional wreck r, sleepy r, jealousy, puking, weird food cravings, weird pregnancy cravings in general not just with food👀 r being obsessed in watching Natasha eat🥴 watching you eat…is so exciting ‘cause nobody else does- S.J.

Author's Note: This part can be boring, just highlights the weird pregnancy cravings that were actually referenced by my cousin's weird cravings and needs when she was pregnant. And I also watched and researched some pregnancy experiences on TikTok so if you find them weird, just scroll away. If I would have a weird food craving it will definitely be vanilla ice-cream and I will dip nuggies and fries to it, what's yours? xD

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

“Aunt Y/N wants Uncle Thor in her bedroom.” Morgan mumbled innocently and everyone's attention honed in on her.

Natasha immediately tensed, her eyes widening with disbelief and possessiveness.

“Why on earth does she want Uncle Thor in our bedroom?”

⧗

You abruptly woke up, feeling a wave of nausea wash over you. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, and the overwhelming sensation of being sick forced you to scramble out of bed and rush to the bathroom. You barely made it to the toilet in time, hunching over and vomiting repeatedly.

The absence of Natasha only heightened your emotions, and tears welled up in your eyes. You clutched the edge of the toilet, the solitude only adding to your already distressed state.

You looked back in the bedroom in desperation, searching for any sign of your girlfriend, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Natty?” you called out for her, weak and nauseous, your voice growing more desperate with each hoarse call. “Nat?”

“Lybov?” Wanda called on the door. She heard you call for Natasha with a hoarse voice, panic instantly shot through her and she flung open the door to the bathroom, only to find you hunched over the toilet retching and weeping.

Kneeling beside you, she gathered your hair away from your face and held it in a ponytail, gently rubbing soothing circles to soothe your upset stomach.

After what felt like an eternity, the last wave of nausea finally subsided, and you collapsed against Wanda, your body weak and shaky. She held you close, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she murmured soothing words into your ear.

“It's alright, I’m here.”

Wanda gently took a tissue from the nearby countertop and carefully wiped your mouth, gently removing any remaining vomit. The overwhelming smell of your own vomit caused your stomach to churn once more. She looked down at you as you looked up at her. For a brief moment, you suddenly broke down, a sob escaping your lips, raw and uncontrollable. Your tears spilled from your eyes, and you huddled against your best friend, your body shaking with the force of your crying. Your sobbing grew more intense, Wanda's panic rose, her heart aching at the sight of your distress. She held you tighter, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she tried to soothe your anguish.

“Shh, shh, it's alright,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I've got you, lyubov. I've got you.”

Wanda eased you back onto the bed, her gentle touch guiding you carefully. Just as you leaned against the pillows, the door creaked open, and Natasha appeared, a tray in her hands. She carried a plate of freshly cooked pancakes, topped with a generous dollop of strawberry jam, the aroma of sweetness filling the room. It was your favorite that she always made but right now you fought hard not to want to eat it.

“I want to sleep.”

Natasha, despite the tension in the air, gently insisted, “Detka, you need to eat.”

Wanda remained standing awkwardly in the room, caught in the middle of the tense exchange between you and Natasha. Her eyes darted between the two of you, unsure of what to do or say to ease the mounting tension. But one thing for sure is that she likes how you’re being stubborn and hard with your girlfriend, as you should, she said in her mind.

Natasha picked up the plate of pancakes, but you only huffed in response trying to fight the sweet aroma wafting through the air as she held it out towards you.

“No!” you tucked yourself back in the bed covering your whole body so you wouldn't get the smell of the freshly cooked pancakes.

“Give it to me.” Natasha's grip on the plate of pancakes tightened at Wanda's words. She despised the idea of you listening to Wanda instead of her, she’s your girlfriend for god’s sake. But knowing that this is the only way to ensure you'll eat, she reluctantly handed over the plate to Wanda, her expression betraying her frustration and jealousy.

“I think Y/N would appreciate it if you go out that door right now,” she tried to soften the blow with a gentle smile, but Natasha knew that the witch was really trying to get into her. It took all her self-control to suppress her initial reaction of anger. Instead, she simply nodded tight lipped, biting back any biting retorts that threatened to spill from her lips.

Natasha looked at the comforter you're hiding from, “Detka, please eat. I’ll be right back.” You only huffed, rolling your eyes beneath the thick blanket.

As soon as your girlfriend was out of the door. Wanda sat on your bed, she made sure that she's not sitting on your leg. “Lyubov, I know you're hungry.”

“No, I’m sleepy. I don't want to eat.” You groggily respond, trying your best to keep yourself awake.

“I know you're sleepy, I know you're tired, but that's all the more reason to eat something. You need to keep your strength up, especially now that you're pregnant. Think of the baby. The baby needs you to eat and be healthy.”

“Lyubov?” Wanda called again, as she waited for a response. But when she heard nothing, she carefully peeked over the blankets. There she saw you, fast asleep, your face relaxed and peaceful in slumber. She let out a sigh and carefully, she tucked the comforter around you, making sure to leave your head free from its cozy confines.

Wanda gently set the plate back down on the tray beside your bed and covered it. She looked at you for a moment, her heart filled with affection as she watched you sleep. Without a sound, she then quietly left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

“Did she eat?” Natasha inquired as soon as she saw Wanda, she was actually waiting for her but Wanda remained silent, her expression betraying nothing. Natasha took that as a sign and a smug look at her face, confirming her suspicion that you also didn't listen even to your best friend. Wanda saw the look on Natasha's face and immediately felt the need to defend herself.

“She fell asleep immediately,” Wanda finally spoke up, annoyed by Natasha's reaction.

A heavy silence fell over the two of them after Wanda's words. Natasha fidgeted nervously, her eyes darting around the room while Wanda was preparing herself some orange juice. The weight of the silence became unbearable and finally, Natasha broke it.

“Wanda, I know I messed up with Y/N and I know you're upset about it. I want to fix things and make it up to her, but I can't do that if you're constantly standing in my way.”

Natasha continued, her voice growing more earnest and frustrated. “Please, Wanda. I apologize for hurting your friend, let me fix my mistake. I care about your best friend deeply, and I don't want to lose her love because I was a stupid. I know I screwed up, but I promise I'll do better. Just give me a chance.”

Wanda's gaze softened just a bit as she saw the sincerity in Natasha's eyes, but she still wasn't fully convinced. As your friend or best friend, she needed to look out for you and make sure you weren't hurt again.

“Do you remember what I said to you through comms?” the witch asked.

“I do,” Natasha replied, “you'd kill me if anything happened to Y/N and the baby.”

Wanda hummed, “Good, you remember. I want you to keep that in mind,” she firmly reiterated before exiting the kitchen leaving your girlfriend alone.

⧗

After an hour of peaceful sleep, you finally stirred, slowly opening your eyes. This time, there was no lingering dizziness or nausea, but a nagging hunger pang made itself known in your stomach. You sat up in bed, groggily rubbing your eyes, your thoughts immediately turning to the need to satisfy your appetite.

You remembered the pancakes your girlfriend made for you. There, you noticed the tray that Natasha had brought earlier, adorned with the pancakes still waiting for you.

Hungry and eager, you picked up the plate of pancakes and began devouring the.. The taste of sweetness and warmth filled your mouth with each bite, each mouthful satisfying the ache in your stomach. You could feel the texture of the pancakes, the sticky sweetness of the fresh strawberry with the syrup mingling with the fluffy softness as you hurriedly finished each bite. Within a matter of minutes, you had nearly cleaned the whole plate, no crumbs and syrup marks remaining.

Natasha slowly eased open the door, peeking her head into the room. You glanced up at her briefly, your expression flat as you remained in bed. Your bad mood was evident, and you made no attempt to acknowledge her presence. She entered the room quietly, sensing your mood but still approaching you anyway.

Natasha tried to engage you in conversation, her voice gentle and careful.

“Hey, detka. Did you have a good sleep?”

You don't know why you are being like this, but you cannot actually stand the presence of your girlfriend. Is it because of the other night? Maybe. Is it because earlier that she was nowhere to be found when she literally said that she'll be here for you? Maybe.

Your cold attitude was evident as you placed the plate back on the tray with a loud thud, the sound so forceful and sharp that one might worry it had been broken.

Natasha flinched at the noise, her eyes widening slightly as she watched you set the plate down. Your irritation was palpable, and even the harsh sound you made didn't seem to bring you any satisfaction.

“You finished the pancake, I see,” she winced. You met her gaze with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, your expression unamused and aloof.

“Can you not talk?” you demanded.

Natasha tried to soothe you, but she was quickly cut off by your next outburst.

“Det—”

“Can you not breathe?” you continued, your voice getting louder to Natasha's liking. Your girlfriend was taken aback by your demand but held her breath instinctively.

“Can you just…just leave?!” you finally shouted as you flail your hands, your demand and mood only worsening.

And with that your girlfriend hurriedly made her way out of the room. Natasha gasped for air, her breaths coming out shaky and fast. The redhead was terrified to do anything that might only fan the flames of your mood.

“Hey Auntie Nat.”

“Fuck!” Natasha hissed in surprise as she heard a small voice call her name. She looked down to see Morgan standing in front of her, startled by the unexpected presence of the child. Her heart was still racing from your mood swings and the sight of Morgan only made her gasp for air once more.

Natasha took a deep breath to calm herself, and a slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she looked down at her goddaughter. “Hey, kid whatchu here for?”

Morgan's small voice piped up, “I wan’ see Aunt Y/N.”

Natasha quickly shifted gears, determined not to let the kid witness your moodiness. So the redhead found herself awkwardly explaining to Morgan that you are not in a good mood right now, trying to skirt around the truth in a way that the kid would understand. But Morgan, being a curious and innocent kid, kept firing off questions.

“Aunt Y/N is resting now.” Natasha started.

“Is she sick?” the kid asked, her voice full of innocent confusion. “I really wan’ see her.” she pouts.

“No, no, she's not sick,” Natasha replied immediately, “Well, she was.”

“She was sick?” Morgan repeated Natasha's words, still puzzled and now worried for you.

Natasha bit her lip, mentally sighing at the kid's persistence. She’s trying to remain patient despite the barrage of questions.

“Okay…” Natasha sighed kneeling in front of the kid, “You see, your Aunt Y/N is sick, but she's getting better,” Natasha said, she pushed some hair on the kid’s face using her slender fingers, “but she's very sensitive right now, and seeing people might stress her out. So it's best if we don't disturb her…for now.”

Natasha paused, Morgan always wanted to go to the compound’s gym but her father didn't want her to see the team training and sparring there. The redhead was quick to ask the little Morgan, “What about we go to the gym?”

The kid thought about it for a brief moment, her enthusiasm momentarily diminished as she thought of you. She had brought lots of hair ties, ribbons and hair brushes to play with you, and she’s really excited to see you. So when the kid hesitantly nodded Natasha smiled at her, and she reached out to pinch her cheek affectionately before she took Morgan's hand in hers, her small fingers intertwining the redhead’s.

As the two were making their way to the gym, they happened to bump into Maria.

“Nat!” Maria called. “How are you? How's Y/N and the little bean?”

“We’re all okay, how's your shoulder?” Natasha asked her partner, inquiring about her injury that she had during the last mission.

The two fell into a deep conversation, neither of them noticed Morgan carefully slipping away from Natasha’s grasp. She quietly tiptoed down the hallway, her small feet barely making a sound as she moved towards your room.

You were lying on your bed, your mind in a storm of mixed emotions, when you heard the distinct sound of the door handle turning. At first, you only saw the door opening with no one at the entrance. But then, your gaze shifted downward and your eyes landed on the small figure of Morgan, standing at the doorway.

Immediately, a warm smile spread across your face as you saw Morgan standing at the door. You sat up in bed, your expression softening.

“Hi little girl,” you said in a gentle voice as if you didn't sound like a dragon shouting at your girlfriend earlier. You patted the spot on the bed next to you. “What are you doing here?”

Morgan, who's very excited to see you eagerly trotted into the room, her small feet pattering against the floor. She climbed up onto the bed and sat next to you. The kid looked up at you, her small frame barely taking up any space on the bed. “I wanted to see you,” she said, her voice filled with eagerness.

Morgan's simple but heartfelt confession touched your heart, melting away some of the storm emotions you're feeling a while ago. You smiled at her, your eyes softening as you looked down at the sweet little kid sitting beside you.

“Aww, that's really sweet of you. I'm glad you came to see me. Whatchu got there, Morgan?” You reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately.

Morgan's eyes lit up as she showed you the set of cute ties, a variety of ribbons, glittered hairpins and mini scrunchies and hair brushes she had brought with her.

“I brought it so we can play salon,” she said, her tone filled with innocent eagerness.

“Want me to tie your hair?” You asked and the kid’s small head nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

With a gentle smile, you patted your lap, she quickly moved to settle onto your lap comfortably. You began to sift through the hair ties and brushes that she had laid out before you, asking her which one to use first and the ones she likes.

You started to tie Morgan's hair, she couldn't help but giggle with excitement. Every now and then, she would let out a small gasp or a squeal as you pulled a lock of hair into place. She occasionally turned her head to look up at you with a big smile on her face, expressing her joy at the play time you were having together.

After completing the hairstyle, you reached over to your bedside table and pulled out a small compact mirror. You handed the mirror to the little girl sitting on your lap, a smile on your lips.

“Look at that!” You beamed, “You look so beautiful, little miss Potts!”

Morgan took the mirror and looked at her reflection, her eyes widening with delight. She admired the hairstyle you had just done for her, her hand touching the butterfly clips curiously.

“Thanks aunt Y/N!”

“You're welcome,” you squeak, poking Morgan’s cheek that made her giggle, “Can you call uncle Thor for me? Love?”

The kid eagerly nodded and immediately sprinted towards the door.

“Careful love!” You yelled out to her.

⧗

“So? What's up with Y/N?”

“She doesn't want me to breathe,” Natasha sighed plopping herself to the sofa and that made the team burst into laughter.

Natasha's face scrunched up slightly as she spoke, “I didn't know that being angry when your partner is breathing was included in the package deal of pregnancy.”

Clint held his hands up, trying to contain his laughter, “Ah, pregnancy rage. It's a thing alright.”

“Laura, you know,” he started, laughing between his words, “One minute, she would be laughing uncontrollably at my joke, and the next, she would be yelling at me for forgetting to put the toilet seat down. I swear, I slept on the couch more during those nine months than I ever did!”

Thor clapped a hand on Natasha's shoulder, his voice filled with booming Asguardian laugh. “That’s not pregnancy rage, it's the joys of pregnancy!”

Maria smiled warmly at her partner, “Just be patient with her,” she suggested gently.

“I won't get tired, I don't have the reason to,” she asserted. A slight smile tugged at her lips as she continued, “In fact, I find it cute and scary. I can handle it.”

“Oh wait until she makes you sleep on the floor or couch, I’m here when you have back pains already.”

As the conversation continued, the group's attention was abruptly interrupted and it was none other than Morgan, who came charging into the room with a big smile on her face.

“Uncle Thor, Uncle Thor!”

Thor chuckled as Morgan practically threw herself at him, his strong arms effortlessly catching the little girl.

“Morgan, you ditched Auntie Nat, where did you go?” she asked, pouting at the girl. Then, noticing the girl's hair, she added, “And your hair looks so beautiful!”

“Auntie Y/N did my hair!” the little girl announced proudly, her face lit up with a bright smile.

Clint suddenly spoke up, a puzzled look on his face. “Wait, Nat,” he began. “I thought Y/N is in a bad mood and doesn't wanna see people. How come she did Morgan's hair?”

“Oh no, I think Y/N only doesn't wanna see Nat…” she whispered, her teeth grazing her lower lip as she looked at her partner.

“Aunt Y/N want Uncle Thor in her bedroom.” Morgan mumbled innocently and everyone's attention honed in on her.

Natasha immediately tensed, her eyes widening with disbelief and possessiveness.

“Why on earth does she want Uncle Thor in our bedroom?” She leaned forward, her voice sharp as she repeated the question, emphasizing the word “our.”

The little girl shrugged innocently. She then promptly hopped off Thor's lap, her small hand gripping his fingers with surprising strength. Her voice carried a tone of innocent excitement as she tugged gently on his hand.

“C'mon, Uncle Thor,” she urged, her small figure already setting off in the direction of your shared bedroom.

Thor's eyes shifted nervously to Natasha, seeking her approval before proceeding. After all, she was your girlfriend, and he wasn't sure why you had specifically requested his presence in your room, and your girlfriend has no idea too which is making her crazy.

Natasha released an exasperated sigh, she crossed her arms before Clint spoke up, breaking the palpable tension in the room with his words.

“Guys, you really think Y/N would do something immoral?” Clint asked in disbelief. After a brief pause he told Thor to go.

Thor nodded slowly, his expression contemplative as his eyes darted towards Natasha who was looking at the ceiling, her frustration evident in the way she chewed on her lower lip and crossing her arms together tightly. Before anyone could say anything else, Morgan impatiently tugged on Thor's hand, her young energy fueling her impatience.

As the little girl pushed open the door to your room, Thor followed closely behind her. The door closed quietly behind them as Morgan led Thor further inside, her small hand still wrapped around his calloused fingers.

“What's up, Asguardian?” you greeted, your arms crossed, cocking your brows at him playfully.

“I’m good and delighted to be here, how about you? How are you feeling Y/N?” Thor replied with his usual charm.

His voice seemed to have a profound effect on you, causing your cheeks to flush lightly, and you responded softly, “I'm doing good, Thor. Well, thank you for accepting my invite.”

Morgan quickly ran towards your bed and in a moment, she plopped down in your lap, a giggle escaping her. The little girl snuggled against you, her small frame feeling warm and soft against your own.

You gestured gently and patted the edge of the bed, silently inviting Thor to take a seat.

“Y/N…” he called out your name very carefully, “I don't think Natasha will like—” but you cut him off mid-sentence. Without giving him a chance to finish, you retorted, “She's not here, is she?”

The Asguardian froze in place, he knew better than to deny you. He has heard your girlfriend rant about your mood swings and he has no intention of provoking or triggering your pregnancy rage which he calls joys of pregnancy and he’s now taking it back.

“I think you can sit on the floor while I sit at the edge of the bed,” you smiled innocently pointing at the floor between your legs.

Thor slowly settled himself between your legs, the metal components of his armor clinking against each other. His broad back was facing you and his heart was beating fast calling all the gods he knew, to his surprise you began to run your fingers through his hair, gently fixing the locks and neatening his usually unruly mane. Then, you requested Morgan to hand you the biggest brush with glitter and ribbon resins on it.

And that to set Thor at ease. He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that you were just simply intending to do his hair.

As you continued to brush through Thor's hair, you found yourself admiring its beauty and thickness. The golden locks felt soft and smooth under your touch, and you couldn't help but marvel at the healthy and radiant appearance of his hair.

“I hope my baby will have your hair.” You whispered and Thor just nervously chuckled. “Can you ask the goddesses you know if they can make my baby's hair like this?” you peeked at his side.

Thor took a deep breath, choosing his words with extreme caution, “I know some of the goddesses of my realm,” he repeated, his voice laced with nervousness. He knew he was treading on thin ice, both literally and figuratively, as he tried to find the right words to explain.

“But I cannot guarantee that they can grant such a boon,” he continued, his voice softer. “You understand, right? These things are…not completely within my control.”

“Blah, blah, blah…”

Thor's heart thumped loudly in his chest, he cannot believe that a human is making him feel dangerously scared and nervous!

“You could have said no, Thor,” You handed him a mirror, “Okay your hair is all done and pretty.” Thor held the mirror, taking a moment to regard his freshly braided locks with a lot of pink ribbons and sparkly pins in there, he then saw you at the mirror behind him with a small grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

“The payment is my baby having your hair, if that really is not possible I guess I’ll just have to settle with another redhead,” you said as the Asguardian stood. Right now you only have two choices, making Thor ask for a goddess that can grant your wish or just accept the fact that your baby will have the same hair as your girlfriend, your hair is not even on the choices.

As Thor stepped towards the door, a thought crossed your mind and you called out to him, “Oh, and Thor,” to which he turned back to face you. You added cheerfully, “Tell Jane I said hi!”

Thor nodded with a smile on his face and waved at you before disappearing in your room. You now turned your focus on Morgan behind you who’s too focused on placing the hair ties on the bed, “So, who's our next client?”

Natasha has been staring at Thor, Yelena and Wanda who’s in a kitchen laughing and admiring each other’s hair. You also called Yelena and Wanda for you to have their hair done with glittery ribbons and hairpins.

“I want my hair done like that too!” Natasha whined as she was unable to contain her jealousy, she actually doesn't know if she wants her hair done like that or she was more interested in getting your attention than the actual hairstyle itself.

Clint couldn't help but chuckle as he looked at Natasha's pouty expression. He reached over and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Maybe you can ask Morgan if they accept walk-ins.”

⧗

It had been three weeks since the initial pregnancy was revealed, and now you found yourself in the fifteenth week of your pregnancy. Over time, your baby bump has grown more prominent, a visible evidence of the life growing inside you. The symptoms such as morning sickness and cravings had lessened slightly, but a new set of discomforts had taken their place. Your body felt heavier, your feet were swollen, and there were times when you felt exhausted and sluggish.

As for Natasha, Clint had been true to his warnings, and you had banished Natasha to the couch. Your irritation and mood swings were becoming more and more intense as your pregnancy progressed, and you found it increasingly difficult to tolerate even the smallest actions from your girlfriend. Although Natasha was being nothing but loving and supportive, your pregnancy hormones had rendered you quite irritable, causing you to snap at her often…and grew distant to her.

There are also specifically weird things that grew into you like you being not able to go a day without touching Thor’s silky golden locks, which made your girlfriend extremely jealous whenever you ask for Thor and whenever she had to watch you get to play with his hair.

And the food cravings had taken a strange and unexpected turn. There was this one time, you had a hankering for a mango, but it couldn't just be any mango; it had to be from India and you want Natasha to get it, not anyone. Tony, always eager to appease you, even if it meant borrowing one of his jets he arranged for Natasha to go to India to get you those specific mangos you wanted. And the moment Natasha returned, you just placed the mangos in the refrigerator and simply stared at them. Every time you opened the fridge, you made sure the mangos were there, almost as if they were a security blanket.

Sam, who just came back from a mission, was unaware of your mango situation and he accidentally ate one. When you checked the fridge and noticed that one mango was missing, you lost your temper and stormed through the compound, determined to find the culprit who had dared to touch your sacred mangos. Thanks to Natasha for saving Sam from your raging wrath, she immediately replaced it and told you that it just fell god knows where in the fridge but you immediately bought it though.

Today, your pregnancy cravings had struck again, like always and this time, you found yourself craving Wanda's famous paprikash. The thought of the rich, spicy dish made your stomach growl. Wanda, upon hearing of your desire, was absolutely delighted. She was thrilled to cook her speciality for you.

Your eyes lit up as Wanda approached, she carried a steaming plate of paprikash, the rich red sauce clinging to the edges and the golden, tender vegetables visible within. You could almost taste the dish already, your mouth watering in anticipation. Wanda reached the table, placing the plate in front of you with a radiant smile on her face.

You smiled up at your bestfriend, thanking her for the meal before taking a spoonful of the dish. The spicy, fragrant flavors exploded on your taste buds, the warmth of the food coating your tongue. After a moment of pure satisfaction, you placed the spoon back down, once again just staring at the food. Wanda, who had resumed her cleaning at the kitchen counter noticed you not touching your food, furrowing her brow in confusion at your lack of enthusiasm for the food. She knew how much you had been craving it, so why weren't you eating more?

“Lyubov? Is there something wrong?” Wanda asked, worried that you didn't like her cooking. But she always cooks her paprikash the same way so nothing could go wrong.

You quickly reassured her, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “No, Wanda, it's perfect, but I think it's not that spicy for me.”

Wanda chuckled at your comment. “Y/N, I actually reduced the spice because I know you're quite sensitive to spicy foods,” she explained.

“Well it's not that spicy to me.” You said flatly which made Wanda freeze in place, your attitude shifting from being ecstatic about the food and being cold about it.

Your actions seemed almost frenzied as you suddenly stood up, rummaging through the cabinets to find a hot sauce. With a splash, you poured almost half an amount of hot sauce onto the plate of paprikash, the vibrant red sauce mixing with the redder colors of the dish.

Wanda watched all of this in stunned silence, her mind racing to make sense of your behavior. Weird pregnancy cravings, she thought to herself.

You took a spoonful of the food again, now satisfied at the level of spiciness of the food.

“I’m full,” You announced as you pushed the plate away.

“Y/N, you've only had two spoons.” Wanda scolded, placing her hands at her waist. She glanced at the barely touched food on the plate, confusion etched on her face. How could you possibly be full after eating such a small amount, especially when you had just drenched it with hot sauce? It seemed like your pregnancy cravings were reaching new heights.

“Where’s Natnat?” you asked as you tap the table impatiently, when you were about to stand you saw your girlfriend entering the kitchen.

“Hey, I was looking for you. I’m gonna go to the grocery do you want some—”

“Eat,” you cut her off not minding a word coming out of her mouth.

Natasha didn't hesitate and approached you immediately. She enveloped you in a tight hug, planting a tender kiss on the side of your forehead like she always does whenever she sees you. You clung to her for a brief moment before abruptly pulling away, creating a physical and emotional distance. It's no new to Natasha actually, since the incident you grew distant to her but she couldn't pinpoint if it was due to the hormones associated with your pregnancy or if you haven't forgiven her yet.

You haven't been affectionate to her and you haven't been actually intimate to each other and it's been so hard for Natasha…literally.

Natasha took a seat across from you at the table, you pushed the bowl of paprikash to her, “Here, eat.”

“Oh, okay.”

When Natasha took a bite she immediately felt the burning sensation on her tongue. Her eyes water as she tries to suppress the urge to cough. She didn't want to let on that the food was too spicy, not wanting to dampen your efforts in making her eat.

Wanda, however, simply tightened her lips, saying nothing as she watched Natasha try to maintain her composure.

You watched Natasha struggling with the food, completely oblivious to the fact that it was too spicy for her. You asked, “Good?”

Natasha, just responded with a tight smile, her eyes watering from the spiciness. “Y-yeah, it is,” she forced herself to say, hoping to avoid further questions. She looked back to Wanda who just gave her an awkward smile.

“Wanda cooked it. But I contributed by adding some generous amount of hot sauce.” You said plainly as you watch her like a hawk watching its prey eat.

“Thanks, Wanda,” your girlfriend managed to say between coughs, “Generous amount of hot sauce, huh,” she added, as she wiped her forehead that began to gleam with sweat as she took another bite.

Yelena entered the kitchen and saw Wanda watching you and your girlfriend, “So what are we watching?” the blonde asked.

“Let's just say that Y/N craved my paprikash, had two bites and she made her girlfriend eat it and now she's having some fun watching her girlfriend finish the food.”

“Did you notice that she has been watching Natasha eat for like a week now?” Yelena whispered to the redhead.

“Yeah, we bring in her favorite foods or Natasha gets them herself, only for her to end up consuming almost all of it while Y/N watches her, because if she won't, it's the end for your sister.”

The blonde's voice dropped to a murmur, when an intriguing theory just came up in her mind, “Is it like a... kink thing or something? Y'know watching your partner eat brings you pleasure...” she then stopped when she saw Wanda staring at her in disbelief.

“Seriously, Yelena?” she snapped as she crossed her arms, “I doubt it's that. Y/N is pregnant, hormones and cravings do weird things.”

Yelena, never one to back down, pointed another idea she had in mind, “And horny things.” Wanda could only let out an exasperated sigh.

“Why in the hell Natasha is all red?” Yelena whispered as she looked at her sister who looked like a tomato, she then let out a gasp as she spotted a familiar hot sauce bottle at the table.

“Is that my hot sauce?!”

[mariasont]

I was wondering if you could write a Hotch oneshot smut. I was thinking like babysitter or even team member. And reader comes onto/flirts w Hotch and he doesn’t know how to act at first lol. Either way, I know it’ll slay (also no rush!)

p.s. Love your work dude 🫶

Negotiating with Mr. H - pt 1

pt 1, pt 2

A/N: I LOVE YOU! thank u 4 requesting angel face <3 i promise there will be a smutty part two ;) i just got so excited writing this i wanted to put it out b4 i went to bed lolol

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!nanny!reader

warnings: suggestive flirting, suggested age gap (reader is in 20s, hotch is in 40s prob)

wc: 1.2k

As you curled up on the couch, your feet hidden under the warmth of your legs, a soft yawn escaped your lips. The room was silent save for the slow murmur of the television, which seemed to grow dimmer with each passing moment, fighting the inevitable pull of sleep that threatened to overtake your best intentions to stay awake.

Being the live-in nanny, you typically followed the soft patter of Jack's footsteps to bed, but tonight the clock ticked past and light in the living room remained defiantly on. Your gaze occasionally drifted to the empty hallway, the cushions of the couch bearing the imprint of your tension. The fabric pulled tight beneath your fingers, every creak of the front door causing your heart to skip a beat as you awaited the turn of the lock. 

You couldn't even explain what had gotten you so worked up. Maybe it was pent up frustration of living with a man that was so attractive, so powerful. Maybe it was the quiet intensity that lingered in his frown, or the way his suits seemed to be a second skin, tailored to perfection. And the beard--oh, that fleeting shadow across his jawline--gone way too soon.

You wanted him. Bad. You had an ache for something more than stolen glances and casual words. You weren't sure of how you would go about it, but you knew you needed to see him, to feel him. It was worse when each case that took him away seemed to stretch time, pulling at the seams of your patience. Every time he got back, you fought the urge to jump his bones. 

You weren't even sure how he felt about you. You knew he probably had hundreds of women, all vying for a glance, a smile, anything. And there you were, just the nanny, invisible even in plain sight. The thought of him sparing you even a second glance seemed impossible.

Your train of thought screeched to a halt at the click of the door's latch. Turning, you found Hotch's eyes, a drowsy grin gracing his features. A thrill of nerves shot through you as he quietly said your name. 

"Everything alright? You're up late," he observed, his voice a low timbre that filled the quiet room. He eased out of his jacket, movements unhurried, and placed his briefcase down by the door. He glanced at his watch. "And definitely past your bedtime."

A soft smile curled at the corners of your lips. "Did you just make a joke, Mr. Hotchner?"

The chuckle that followed was more of a breath than a sound, a sound almost foreign in the stillness of the hallway. He moved towards the kitchen. "Must be the lack of sleep," he offered, pausing to glance back at you.

The simple act of him loosening his tie held your gaze. His hand, reaching for the scotch, moved with an ease born of repetition. You may not have been a profiler, but you prided yourself on understanding the subtle tells of his body language. You knew that when he starred down the glass for a moment too long before drinking, the case had been particularly grueling, and when he set the bottle back with a contented sigh, it was the opposite.

Today he took that contented sigh.

The gentle interrogation in his eyes drew you from your daydreaming. The sudden heat that rose to your cheeks betrayed your momentary lapse in attention. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked how Jack was."

"Oh," you said with a small laugh. "He's been an angel, as always, not a single toe out of line."

His nod came with a sip of scotch. You mustered your courage and stood from the couch, the chill of the floor seeping into your bare feet as you walked towards him. "How was work?"

"It was... surprisingly manageable."

"Manageable, huh?" you teased, resting your elbows behind you on the island, meeting his gaze. "Well, I hope that means we'll be seeing more of you. It's been too quiet."

One brow arched in mild amusement. "I wouldn't count on it too much. That might just put you out of a job."

"Jobless, maybe. But it's worth the risk to see you unwind a bit more. I'll take my chances," you said, a playful challenge lacing your words as you stood a little straight, tiredness melting into a newfound alertness. "And between us, I suspect you'd be calling me back before lunchtime."

He paused, his gaze momentarily caught in the soft light that seemed to frame you. "I can't argue with that," he conceded with a soft chuckle. 

You were beautiful, undeniably so, and it wasn't just the kindness in your eyes or the gentle curve of your smile. It was the radiance you carried, a contrast to the shadows he had grown accustomed to. 

Your conversation, light and unexpectedly intimate, was a balm to the solitude that had become his norm. For a fleeting second, he allowed himself the luxury of imagining coming home to this--your lively chatter, your laughter--but he quickly quashed the thought. As much as he was drawn to you, he couldn't help but feel the gap between you--a gap carved by years and experiences that made him believe you belonged to a world far brighter than his own.

"So, I suppose this means it's time for me to negotiate a raise, or perhaps some extra perks, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Hotchner?" you suggested, edging closer with a pivot on your toes, eyes dancing over his form with undisguised interest. 

"Considering you keep this place running like clockwork, a raise doesn't sound unreasonable," he admitted, the clink of his glass punctuating the silence as he set it down, arms folding across his chest in a relaxed barricade. 

You moved within arm's reach. "Or, we could discuss a more... personal kind of bonus."

"A personal bonus?" Hotch repeated, his eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but in dawning realization. The analytics part of his brain momentarily offline as he tried to reconcile your words with his own feelings. "I'm not sure that's...appropriate."

You took another step, almost toe-to-toe with him, your breath a tease on his skin. "Maybe not, but I think I've earned it, Mr. H. Don't you?"

"Yes, you've... certainly earned it," Hotch managed to say, clearing his throat, his eyes briefly losing focus as they drifted to your lips and back to your eyes. "You're very impressive at what you do."

With a boldness that felt natural, you reached up, toying with the knot of his tie. "I'm eager to impress in other ways too, Mr. Hotchner. Care to oversee?"

Hotch felt a sudden tightness in his chest, the air seemingly thinner, not able to focus on anything but the soft touch of your fingers against his tie. "I... yes," he said after you, the name he'd heard countless times before now igniting an unfamiliar fire within him. "Overseeing... seems necessary."

You offered him a smile, tender and guileless, your eyes shimmering in the kitchen light. "I'm glad you agree. We should definitely discuss the details. Goodnight, Mr. Hotchner."

Hotch remained motionless, his breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sigh. The kitchen seemed somehow louder now, your words echoing in his ears, every sense attuned to your presence even as it faded. What just happened?