#but she has been such a gentle house guest

[sunshinehaze1]

Unwrapped

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (f. Marcus Acacius & Lucilla Aurelius)

Summary: You attend your friend Lucilla's annual holiday party and meet someone new.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. Modern AU, no outbreak or battles in the colosseum, meet-cute, fingering, unprotected PiV (do better), creampie, no use of y/n

a/n: This is my Secret Santa gift for my beautiful friend @ak-vintage. Her Pedro faves are Joel, Marcus A., and Din. I hope you like it, Ash! ❤️ and that you'll forgive me for not elaborating further on the party bathroom smut 🤭 tysm to @80ssong for the beta! 🥰 and big time thanks to @pr3ttynpiink for organizing! ❤️

word count: 4,386

ao3 | ml

As you walk up the driveway, you admire the lights trailing along the edges of Marcus and Lucilla's house. They live in a large, luxurious home decked in over-the-top opulence. Roman columns frame the front porch, wrapped in garland and accented with gold bows and lighting. Glittery white lights perfectly line the edges of the house, and more are draped meticulously over the immaculately trimmed shrubs. Their house practically lights up the whole neighborhood. It's hard to imagine their electric bill; you're thankful you don't have to pay it.

You met Lucilla earlier this year while volunteering at the local food bank. You decided to volunteer to meet people after moving to the area recently. Lucilla comes from money; her father was the CEO of a local business, and she inherited a large amount of money when he passed. So she has plenty of free time to give back to those in the community who are less fortunate.

After one of your volunteer shifts, Lucilla invited you for coffee. You found her to be surprisingly down to earth. It's not typical of your experience with people who come from money and have had things handed to them. She's very grounded and wise. You quickly became friends, and she's like the big sister you never had. She has at least a decade on you, and you've often turned to her for advice as you assimilate to Austin. It's comforting to have a support system in the area.

You've been invited to her beautiful home for dinners numerous times and met her handsome husband, Marcus. He's around Lucilla's age with soft, greying curls, always perfectly coifed. His face is framed with Romanesque features and a prominent nose. Having retired a couple of years ago as a general in the Army, he still maintains a thick, sturdy physique that offers an intimidating presence. He's anything but. You've only seen him as soft, gentle, and welcoming. You've spent enough time with them that you've been able to observe their relationship quietly, and it's nothing short of "relationship goals." You hope to find a loving relationship like theirs for yourself one day.

They throw these holiday parties every year, and this is your first time attending. You're bound to have a great time based on what you've heard about past years' parties. And you look forward to meeting new people. Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone.

Lucilla and Marcus go all out. The outdoor decorations were only a precursor to what awaits you inside. It looks like a Christmas store blew up. Garland is wrapped around the staircase banister and the fireplace mantle with perfectly placed ornaments. Every door frame is adorned with mistletoe dangling over the threshold, waiting for unsuspecting guests to pass through. Santas and snowmen of varying sizes sit on tables and shelves. Silvery snowflakes decorate the walls, and you spot not one but three different Christmas trees. Each has its own theme.

The expansive kitchen island has a beautiful spread of charcuterie, wines, and liquors and a punch bowl of spiked egg nog; holiday songs, clinking glasses, and the smell of mulled cider waft through the air.

--

Joel is a good sport. He's not a fan of large gatherings. He'd much rather hang out in the backyard with a beer, catching up with his brother. Or when Sarah was still at home, a night on the couch watching a movie. Nights that would end with Sarah falling asleep halfway through the movie and Joel carrying her upstairs to bed. With his reserved nature, he tends to be a wallflower at parties and a quiet observer. This one, which his employee, Marcus, invited him to, is no different.

He's found himself in a corner, making small talk with another partygoer who, unfortunately, found out what Joel does and has since been bending his ear about house renovations. Joel spots you as you walk through the door, ignoring the man in front of him, who continues to prattle on how he can't decide which faucet to place in his half bath.

Joel finds himself gawking at you. You're a vision in your eggplant velvet wrap dress with a satin sash tied into a bow on the side of your waist. The dress hugs every curve of your body, with a skirt that falls to your mid-thigh, providing Joel a view of your shapely legs. The dress's neckline cuts into a deep v, hinting at what's underneath. You're a fucking knockout.

He observes as you juggle a wrapped gift box for the white elephant exchange and a hostess gift in your other hand. It's a lavender-scented candle. You've noticed Lucilla wears the scent often. You greet Lucilla with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Offering her a wide, glowing smile. Oh god, you're beautiful. Joel is shaken from his enamored haze when the sound of broken glass interrupts his thoughts. He must find a way to talk to you before he leaves tonight.

--

Over the last hour or so, you've had a chance to meet everyone at the party—neighbors, family friends, Marcus's old Army buddies, and their spouses. All of them were very nice, but the small talk was exhausting, so you're thankful when you hear Lucilla quiet the guests with a shout, "ALRIGHT EVERYONE TO THE LIVING ROOM! It's time for the gift exchange."

You enter the living room and look for a place to sit. Various chairs are lined up around the couches, almost all already taken. You decide to remain standing rather than scramble to find an open seat.

While Lucilla explains the rules, a basket with small pieces of folded-up paper is passed around the room, with numbers 1-30 written on each. You select yours and pass it to the man beside you; rough fingers graze your hand as you complete the handoff. He thanks you, and you turn to get a better look at the owner of the deep, gravelly voice.

You're struck by how ruggedly handsome he is. A sharp nose, plush lips, and patchy facial hair sprinkled with greys. He's wearing a crisp light blue button-up and dark jeans that hug him just right. It seems you haven't met everyone at the party yet. How did he escape your notice?

He catches you staring, "What number did ya get?"

"Um…" you look down at your paper, "29. How about you?"

"Looks like I got lucky tonight," he turns his piece of paper around to show you, "30." He winks.

Uh oh. He's handsome and charming. You're in trouble.

"Name's Joel. How do you know Marcus and Lucilla?"

You introduce yourself and tell him about your volunteer work and how you met Lucilla. "And you?"

"Marcus works for me." Your surprised reaction amuses him, and he continues. "After he retired, he was looking for part-time work to keep himself busy. I own a contracting business."

That explains his rugged appearance and calloused hands. You take in his broad shoulders and biceps, which cause the seams of his shirt to work overtime to stay together. Lucilla interrupts your thoughts, "OK, now that everyone has their number, we'll go ahead and get started!"

A woman named Simone starts things off. After selecting a gift from under the tree, she tears the wrapping paper to reveal a cat-shaped ice cube tray. The crowd erupts in laughter when she shows it around the room. It's not a very appealing gift, which likely means she'll be stuck with it. You doubt anyone will want to "steal" it from her, but at least it has practical use. 

The game continues with half the participants taking their turn. Lucilla's son, Lucius, is next. You met him briefly when Lucilla introduced you earlier. He's in town to spend the holidays with his mother. After over a decade apart, he reconnected with Lucilla a few years ago. The relationship is still in repair but moving in the right direction. You know how important it is to Lucilla to have him here.

You haven't gotten the full story from Lucilla, but you know it's a sensitive subject for her, so you've never pressed too hard. You've left the door open for her to share if and when she's ready. He and Marcus seem to have an agreeable relationship and get along fine, which you're happy to see. Stepparent and stepchild relationships can be pretty fraught. He's a handsome kid who resembles Lucilla, but you think he inherited most of his looks from his father.

Lucius takes his turn and decides to steal a gift that was already stolen, securing it himself. The game continues as the room works through the numbers. A steady din of laughter echoes through the room as the exchange becomes more cutthroat. It's all in good fun, though.

Finally, it's your turn. You walk over to the tree where two gifts remain. One is a box covered in teal wrapping paper with a gold diamond pattern and embellished with a twine ribbon. The other one is a tall, slender gift bag that is the perfect size to hold a bottle of wine. You choose the box and return to your spot next to Joel.

All eyes in the room are now on you as you unwrap the gift. Pulling the paper away, you squeal when you see it's a Funko Pop figure. You try to remain calm when you remove the rest of the paper and recognize it is The Mandalorian and Grogu.

This is a score, and you can't believe your luck. You love Star Wars, especially The Mandalorian. And it's not just because you have a crush on the actor who plays him. You love the storytelling and the world-building. This isn't something you'd buy for yourself, but you'll proudly display it in your home. With Joel as the last person left, you hope your brief interaction with him has earned you enough favor that he won't steal your gift.

However, you don't know that Joel and his daughter watch The Mandalorian over Facetime every Sunday night. It's a way for them to stay connected now that she's miles away. They're on their third rewatch, and he treasures these nights with his daughter. He eyes the Funko Pop in your hand and thinks Sarah would get a kick out of this cute figure. Even if he has no clue what a Funko is.

Joel hems and haws, trying to decide if he should go for the last gift under the tree, which he suspects is a bottle of wine. He wouldn't have much use for it as he's more of a beer guy. Or steal your gift and potentially derail any opportunity he may have had to get to know you better. After a few moments of quiet deliberation, he opts to steal.

You huff in defeat, bummed that you lost out on your gift, and hand the box over to Joel. You know it's all in good fun, and Joel had no malicious intent behind his decision. You retrieve the last gift from under the tree, confirming your suspicion of what was inside.

After the gift exchange is complete, the guests disperse throughout the house. You're looking over the wine's label when you feel an elbow nudge your bicep. Your attention turns to Joel, who has a sheepish look. "Sorry for that. My daughter and I love The Mandalorian. We watch it together every Sunday night while she's away at school," he sighs.

Now, how can you be upset about that? Of course, he had a heartwarming reason behind his decision to steal. "Oh, it's no big deal. I'm just happy he's going to a good home."

Joel chuckles. "Would you like a drink?"

You nod and follow him into the kitchen.

--

With your cup of eggnog, you settle at a threshold out of the way of party traffic. He tells you more about the contracting business he owns with his younger brother. You share more about yourself and how you moved to Austin for a job opportunity. He's incredibly handsome, and you get lost in his brown eyes. His quiet confidence and sense of humor are extremely sexy.

Joel recounts a time when his brother screwed up an order for a job. He ordered the incorrect size of lumber and set the project back a week. Joel took over placing orders after that. He shares his hunch that his brother purposefully messed up the order, so he no longer has to do it.

His retelling is endearing. Through it, you get a good sense of his love for his brother, but as with most sibling relationships, some things drive him crazy. You can relate.

A silence falls between you two for the first time since you began talking. You're not even sure how much time has passed. However, it's been long enough to cause a crick in your neck since you've had to look up at Joel this whole time. You tilt your head, rolling it back and forth to stretch it out. When you open your eyes, you're frozen as you realize where you and Joel have been standing. Your chest begins to warm at the implication of where this could lead.

Joel follows your gaze to see what's caught your attention. He gulps when he spots the leafy instigator. His palms sweat as he straightens, and you make eye contact.

The warmth in your chest has moved up your neck as Joel's eyes lock with yours. The swirl of the party moves around you two, and you feel frozen in time. At this moment, it is just you and Joel. A soft smile appears on his face. "Welp. Do you know what this means?"

You swallow, take a deep breath, and offer an inviting smile. "It can only mean one thing."

Joel leans in. You feel his hot breath as his face nears yours. This sweet, funny, handsome man is about to kiss you, and you remind yourself to breathe. His index finger lifts your chin toward him, his lips brushing over yours. It feels like hours have ticked by at this standstill when only seconds have passed. But your patience still wears thin, "Well…what are you waiting for?"

Joel laughs and finally closes the distance. His lips capture yours in a chaste kiss, aware you are not alone. You press your lips to his and let out a soft moan. The sparks you've only read about in novels start to fly, butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you see fireworks shooting off behind your eyelids. You keep them shut out of fear that you'll wake up from a dream if you don't.

You blink back as you pull yourself away from Joel. Knocked on your ass over a kiss. If his kiss can feel like that, you can only imagine what more would feel like. And you would love to find out.

Wide-eyed, you coo, "That was a really good kiss."

Joel nods, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind doing that again."

"Me either," you giggle, feeling bold, "and maybe more?"

Joel quickly grabs your hand, determination in his eyes, "Follow me."

--

There's no shortage of privacy in a house of this size. The large amount of guests allows you and Joel to sneak off unnoticed. With your hand in his, he pulls you behind him in search of a more conspicuous location. At the end of the hall, you spot an open door that leads to a beautifully appointed bathroom: marble countertops, travertine tile, and a glass-enclosed shower with a waterfall showerhead. Large mirrors with an intricately designed gold frame sit over each sink. This is just the guest bathroom?!

He whips you around to face him and pulls you in for a kiss, not chaste this time. This kiss is brimming with passion. A mix of tongues dancing around, exploring each other's mouths. Playful nibbles leave their marks on each other's lips.

Your palms flatten against his firm chest, and you grip the lapels of his shirt and yank it open. The top buttons fly across the counter's surface and bounce every which way—ping, ping, ting—until they land flat on the surface. Hiding your giggle behind your hand, you look up at Joel apologetically. "Hey! I liked this shirt!" he bemused.

You walk your fingers up his now bare sternum and pinch his chin mischievously. "Oops, my bad!"

"Oh, you're fucking trouble, aren't you?!"

"Only one way to find out," you tease.

"Oh, honey, you bet your sweet ass I will." His hands caress your waist and hips, enjoying the feel of the velvet over your soft curves. "But first, I want you to see how gorgeous you are." He kisses you before he turns you to face the mirror.

Joel stands tall behind you. His hands roam along your body when he captures your gaze. With pleading eyes, he asks, "Can I unwrap my gift now?"

You nod. He pulls down the neckline of your dress and frees your tits from the cups of your bra. You let out a small gasp. He looks at you in the mirror while he kneads them, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and index finger. He nuzzles into your neck and ascends with featherlight kisses to your earlobe, and whispers, "You're so fucking gorgeous."

With a gentle squeeze of your breasts, "gorgeous tits." His husky voice sends a shiver down your spine.

One of his hands moves down your body. His fingertips trail up the back of your bare thigh and underneath your skirt to your ass. A sly grin appears on his face when he doesn't feel any fabric impeding his exploration. You decided to wear a thong tonight to avoid panty lines with the way the fabric of the dress clings to your figure. With a firm squeeze of your bare cheek, "gorgeous ass."

You whimper at his attention and praise, overwhelmed by his adoration of your body. Both hands make their way to your neck, and he turns your face toward him, "gorgeous lips," and he devours you in a toe-curling kiss.

He hisses when your ass backs into him in response. His hardened cock straining the front of his jeans. You suck in your breath, apologetically, "I'm so sorry."

He chuckles, "It's ok, baby." He brushes his lips over your nose and tilts back with a glint in his eye, "You can make it up to me."

You quirk your eyebrow, "oh yeah, how so?"

He doesn't answer you. Silently, he grips your hips to turn you back to face the mirror. He grabs your hands and places your palms flat on the cool marble. He watches your tits bounce in the mirror and feels his cock get impossibly harder. "Stay. Just like this."

You feel the arousal pool in your belly at his command. His hands travel down the sides of your thighs and up under the skirt of your dress. His fingers slip under the elastic band of your thong, and you hear the lace fabric rip.

He slides a calloused finger through your slick lips. A growl escapes him as he feels how wet you are. "This pussy's just drenched for me, isn't she?"

You whimper out a strangled "yes." Overwhelmed by the feel of his thick fingers through your folds, teasing your entrance and brushing against your clit.

Finally, he shows mercy and slides a finger inside you. You clench around his thick digit as he enters you to his last knuckle, his fingertip reaching that spongy spot just right, sending an intense wave of pleasure through your body.

He leans forward, his whole chest pressed against your back. The heat from his body envelopes you. His husky voice vibrates in your ear, "Fucking dripping."

You groan when Joel pulls his finger out to taste you. "Such a sweet fucking pussy. I can't wait to make a whole meal out of her."

He breaches you again with two fingers, and you buck forward at the pleasurable stretch. He begins to thumb against your clit while his two fingers thrust inside you at a steady pace.

"Fuck. I can't wait to get you out of here. I want to take my time with you. The things I want to do."

"Tell…" breathless, "…me."

"I want to eat your pussy until your legs shake." he continues his exploration of your cunt. "Suck on your perfect tits. Fold you in half while I fuck into you until you scream my name."

"Yes, fuck…Joel, I want all of that." Your imagination is running wild at his ideas, the tension is building, and you're ready to snap.

"You'll get it, but I need you to come for me, darlin'." Desperation in his voice, "My cock needs to be inside this perfect pussy."

His words were all you needed to push you over the edge. You brace yourself on the counter as your orgasm moves through you, your walls fluttering around his fingers.

As you come down from your high, Joel quickly unfastens his jeans and lowers them along with his boxer briefs, releasing his throbbing cock. You feel his length bop against your ass. His fingers run through your pussy to coat his dick with your arousal. He lazily strokes his dick while bunching up the skirt of your dress over your waist with his other hand.

His palm runs over your bare ass cheek and slowly navigates your curves to your other cheek. You whimper when he pulls his palm away, already missing the warmth of his skin against yours. The unexpected strike of his palm causes you to jolt forward with a whine.

"Fuck! This is a juicy ass," he growls as his fingers dig into your flesh.

"Do it again. Harder." you pant.

You catch his devilish grin in the mirror as he lifts his arm with a flattened palm. The din of the party muffles the sound of it moving through the air before it lands on your other cheek. Harder. Just like you asked. You feel another wave of arousal rush through you.

"Oh, baby. We're going to have so much fun."

Joel takes his cock and runs the tip through your folds, You haven't seen it, but you can feel it's big as he teases your entrance with just the tip. Your mouth begins to water as you fantasize about taking him between your lips, the heavy weight of it on your tongue as you take him down your throat.

You're so distracted by the thought of choking on his dick that you yelp in surprise when his cock enters you with a forceful thrust; his pelvis slams into your luscious cheeks.

"Oh, she's fucking…" Joel pants, "she's fucking, tight."

He begins a steady pace of fucking you. His hands gripping your hips, fingertips digging in with a bruising force.

He reaches around your waist to rub your clit while he continues a relentless pace. Your walls clenching around him. Breaths increase, and your chest is slick with sweat. His thrusts push you into the counter, driving into you while he rubs your clit. The marble cooling your heated chest. "C'mon, baby. I feel you squeezing me. Let go for me."

You wail out his name as your climax takes hold. He pulls you up against his chest, his hand cupping your breast as he fucks you through your orgasm. Hot breath against your ear as he seeks his release. You wrap your hand around his neck and pull his head toward you. Your lips brush against his ear, and with a whisper, eyes fixed on him in the mirror so you can see his reaction, "Fill me up. I want to feel you dripping out of me."

Joel whimpers. He fucking, whimpers. He's at the precipice of his orgasm and grasps onto your tit tighter. You squeak at the pressure. One. Two. Three more thrusts before he spills into you, drenching your pussy with his seed.

His forehead collapses onto the back of your shoulder; his labored breathing begins to even out. When he looks up, your eyes meet his in the mirror. You both are completely fucked out. Half dressed, tits hanging out, disheveled hair, smeared lipstick. He leans back to get a good look at his spend leaking from your pussy. A boyish grin expands on his face into a toothy smile as he pushes his cum back inside with his finger. "Gotta keep my gift wrapped up."

You roll your eyes and laugh.

Joel grabs a clean washcloth from the towel bar and runs it under warm water. He gently runs the damp cloth over your inner thighs and sensitive folds, cleaning himself before tossing the washcloth in the hamper.

You notice it's after midnight, and you'll need to get home soon—even though you don't want the night to end. You both scramble to dress. Joel stops short when he realizes he can't button his shirt back up all the way. He looks around to find the loose buttons on the counter and pockets them. Softly, you brush his forearm and coo, "I can sew those back on for you."

He winks and kisses the tip of your nose. "Worth it."

--

You accept Joel's offer to walk you to your car, but not before you say your goodbyes. The two of you part to find Lucilla and Marcus to thank them for the party.

When you find Joel again, he guides you toward the door, holding his gift in one hand and the other against the small of your back. He leans toward your ear and teases, "We'll need to discuss visitation arrangements." shaking the figurine in the air.

You playfully swat his chest at his teasing.

You and Joel are unaware that Marcus and Lucilla are watching this exchange from afar. Lucilla turns to Marcus and wonders, "Now, why didn't we think to set those two up? They're perfect together."

"It doesn't look like they needed our help anyway." Marcus wraps his arm around his wife and kisses her temple. "Another successful holiday party, my lady."

Lucilla rests her head on his shoulder and lets out an exhausted but contented sigh. "Until next year, my love."

--

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

I've got an idea brewing to revisit these two (four)...if I get a wild hair, I may take a swing at it. 😏

npt for folks who were interested in this WIP: @baronessvonglitter @kilamonster @half-moon16 @peepawispunk

[pallanophblargh]

Wake up, new cryptid just dropped!

It’s true that I’ve had to reimagine my day to day life since we got her, but I can’t imagine how we got this lucky. We thought we would have to work to earn her love, but from the moment she entered our house it’s been a cuddlefest, one I couldn’t possibly deny. There are hurdles she will be facing to be sure (and she will still need to meet the cats face to face) but I’m so happy to see this happy lil cheese every day. Welcome home Raclette!

(The couches will always be hers, even if it means she does try to smush whatever I’m working on at the time!)

[juletheghoul]

lesson

a/n: Okay - so I sort of ran with this one, his gentle nature comes out for Girl of course, and his anger is for the fact that despite him having this elevated station, he still has things he must do, things that he hates and along with that he has this woman that will not take the fucking hint that he is not interested in a union between them. Hopefully you like what I did with your request, and that the Lavinia haters (fuck that hoe), do too! (this is before chapter IX)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, hand stuff 🤤, Marcus' very into how possessive girlie is, exhibitionism, *feelings- declarations of love?*, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.2k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

--

Chaos, the whole house was in utter chaos. High ranking officials and important contacts were all on route to the villa, and Marcus was feeling the pressure. His mood was dark, his frustration clinging to the edge of every word he spoke and everyone who served under his name was on high alert. 

Your stomach was in knots for another reason, Lavinia would be showing her face after her endeavour to ensnare him in her web. The Gods had seen it fit to intervene and save him from falling under her spell during her attempt but would he be so lucky this time? What about Marcus himself? The thought of him confronting and embarrassing her in front of all dropped stones into your belly.

Thoughts spiralled and your imagination raced with unsavoury repercussions at how he might react to seeing her, how you might react to seeing her as you went about with your preparations. With your chores and duties keeping you away from him it was hard to gauge where his psyche was, hard to anticipate just what he would need from you, or if he’d need you at all. 

When the guests started to arrive, the house was perfect. Food and drink had been laid out, the decorations were pristine and he had managed to reign in his reluctance to have his house filled with people he had no wish to see. He greeted them all, a smile that never quite reached his eyes plastered on his handsome face, offering everything he had with grace despite the low-simmering anger you could feel even from your place in the shadows. 

You served, and watched. Head-bowed in deference to those in attendance, silent in your obedience, in your service and efficient as was your way until you saw the cascade of blonde curls in your peripheral. Your stomach roiled at the sight of her, the easy, unbothered way she sauntered through his house, seemingly free of guilt for her feeble attempt at beguiling your Dominus. 

He noticed her too, and something inside you preened at the way his eyes turned cold. There was none of the warmth that always greeted you in private. She didn’t seem to notice it, her gaze drifting to him constantly, devouring him unabashedly whether he welcomed it or not. 

You kept your vigil as the night wore on, invisible to all except him. Your heart swelled everytime his eyes met yours, whether you were filling his cup or serving a guest, the anger in his gaze dispersed when your eyes locked. The warmth you’d come to crave poured out from him, it crawled through your veins and warmed you from the inside with every tiny, true smile he gifted you. 

Service came easy to you, it was what you did day in and day out. Despite how forgiving, how patient your Dominus was with you and the rest of those who served in his house, servitude was servitude. Pouring for men and women who did not see you was nothing, preferable, truly. 

Pouring for, and tending to Lavinia was a distinct torture. 

She held out her goblet to you and you did your duty, ignoring the fire burning in your belly at her audacity. Your eyes kept drifting to her face, your expression kept twisting into a disgusted scowl, until you’d remember yourself and arrange your features into the appropriate blankness that was expected of one in your station. 

He caught you though, his eyes pulling yours to his with a raised eyebrow. A soft reproach, a gentle reprimand, followed by a knowing–forgiving–wink. 

The night wore on–the food was eaten, the wine flowed, and Lavinia was relentless. 

Marcus did his best to avoid her presence, excusing himself from where she stood to tend to other guests, walking away when he saw her approaching him. To anyone else, to anyone with any wits about them it was obvious that he had no wish to spend any amount of time with her. To her, it was a challenge, one she ran at full speed and without a care to how desperate she looked. 

That sense hit you again, of an errant toddler, unable to accept no as an answer to something she desired. Something she felt she was owed.

His face was flushed in anger when he found you clearing empty platters, nose flared in frustration while his guests laughed loudly, soft music filling the room and candlelight burning in his eyes. 

“Follow me, Girl.” It was an angry whisper, and you rushed to obey. 

You had to take two steps for every one of his and when he finally arrived at his study he closed the door behind you. The caged animal in him reared its head again, waves of frustration, of poorly concealed aggression poured off him strong enough to paint gooseflesh across your skin. 

“Dominus?” You approached him slowly, tentatively hoping to calm him with soft words and gentle touch and he allowed it. Let you get close, let you press your hands to his chest. His eyes closed tight, but his breathing settled as he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“How can I be of help, Dominus? Shall I tell the guests you are ill?” You cupped his face, sweeping up to run your fingers through his grey waves in the way you knew always soothed him. 

“No Girl, I must face them. I just needed a moment of peace. I just needed your touch.” He pulled your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your palm. “Lavinia is relentless, I do not know how to be diplomatic, I do not know how to remain civil and pleasant without reverting to the darker aspect of my nature.” He sighed, hands landing on your hips to hold you close and you ignored the way your heart swelled to know your touch brought him peace. 

“Would that there was something I could do, I would do it Dominus, I would fix this for you had I any power to do so.” He breathed into your neck, a softer sigh. 

“Gratitude, Girl.” He placed a kiss at your shoulder, resigned to return to the frey. “If Lavinia knew all of the things I wish to do to you, I promise you she’d give up her chase.” He smiled, hands lowering to grab at your backside. Something mischievous, something wicked whispered in your ear and you smiled at him. 

“That look is trouble if I ever saw it Girl, what mischief are you plotting?” He smiled, eyes narrowed in curious delight. You chewed at your lip, eyes darting behind you to the still closed door. 

“Well Dominus, perhaps if she were to see the things you like to do to me, the things I dream about you doing to me–” Your own hands travelled down the expanse of his chest, towards his manhood. He groaned when you cupped him, a warm, conspiratorial smile lighting up his face. “Perhaps then she will finally understand that you do not desire her.” You stroked at him, relishing the way he stiffened in your palm. 

“You will be the death of me, Girl. Leave it to me. I will go back, and walk towards this room slowly. If I am right in my assumptions about her, she will follow.” His own hand slid down under your tunic, slipping between your legs to find the arousal collecting at the mouth of your cunt. He smiled, eyes on the way your mouth opened in a sharp gasp when he slipped two thick fingers as deep as he could get them. 

“Naughty, possessive Girl. All wet thinking about her catching me take you hm? Excited that she will finally know that this is the only cunt I want–” He found the secret place only he’s ever touched and you let out a moan. 

“Yes Dominus, I want her to see, I want her to know that this, that you are mine.” You squeezed him and he let out a punched out groan. His lips pressed to yours in a rough, breath-stealing kiss, his tongue claiming you before pulling away and leaving you almost dazed. His eyes lust-blown when he removed his fingers from between your legs, and stuck them into his mouth. 

“Wait for me here.” He adjusted himself in his robes, and walked out in a swirl of white fabric. 

By the time he came back, your arousal was something with teeth and claws and it was with an almost inhuman ferocity that you crashed into his arms. He groaned, joining in your frenzy and all but lifting you onto his desk. 

“Please Dominus, hurry, I need you–” He cut off your words with another toe-curling kiss, tongue insistent and commanding in your mouth. His hands were rough where they all but ripped your tunic up, barely giving you a warning before stuffing himself to the hilt inside you. You didn’t care how loud you were, you didn’t care how desperate you sounded, he felt too good to concern yourself with anything but him. 

He showed his strength, pulling your knees over his forearms to spread you wide, making you clutch at his neck and the arousal only grew. It filled your stomach with butterflies and made your nipples hard as pebbles. There was a creak just down the hall and the butterflies swarmed again, the thought of Lavinia following him and finding him fucking you made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It made your cunt flood him with slick. 

“I think she approaches Dominus–” You whispered in his ear, nails clawing at his good robes despite the fact that you’ll be the one to mend them. 

“Let her, let her see me with you, deep inside you, the only place I want to be.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck and speeds up, fucking you harder, faster. 

When she finally pushed the slightly ajar door open all the way the expression on her face almost made you laugh. Her eyes were wide as plates, her mouth open in what could only be described as naked shock. Too surprised and stunned to move, she watched as he thrust inside you, his pace brutal. 

“I want your gift Dominus, may I have it?” You sung into his ear in your sweetest voice, smiling at her as he moaned into your neck. 

“It’s yours Girl, my cock, my come, only yours.” He speaks clearly, loudly, and pulls your face away from her direction with a kiss that was lewd enough to shock even you, tongue indecent, one hand moving up to hold onto your neck. She ran out of room but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he held you like that, not when he kissed you like that. 

“I’m yours too, Dominus–” He moaned, the sound between your legs so loud, so wet, “Make me yours Dominus, love me Dominus.” You whispered the last little bit, so low you didn’t think he heard. His hand moved down, fingers swirling around your clit. 

The climax that had been building in the base of your spine and in your core swelled, growing and growing with every delicious swirl until you seized up, frozen in ecstasy as he chased his own end within your body. It was with a filthy groan, and a dirty grind that he painted your insides in his gift. The spurt of it made you laugh with happiness, pressing your lips to his face as he squeezed at the meat of your hips.

He let out a breathy laugh at your reaction. 

“Happy to have her see you claim me? Claim what drips out of you even now?” He wrapped his arms around your ribs, grabbing at every inch of you he could reach. 

“Yes Dominus, I am happy at the thought that you might have peace now, because of me.” You kept pressing soft, chaste kisses despite his cock softening inside your ruined cunt. 

“Hmmm. Very territorial, my lovely Girl.” He smiled his rare, relaxed smile, accepting your affection with good grace. After a few minutes, he sighed.

“Much as I enjoy your touch, much as I enjoy you showering me with these soft, devastating kisses I must go back to the gathering.” He took your hands from his face, pressing his lips to both in a gentle apology before pulling out of you and tucking himself away,

“Take your time adjusting yourself before rejoining.” He fixed his robes as best he could, running a hand through his hair before closing the door behind him. 

By the time you made your way back to his guests, Lavinia was gone and he was himself once more, his smile genuine, his body relaxed and it was difficult to stay humble. 

You poured for the guests as his gift dripped out of you and onto your thighs, a pleasant ache blooming there as you moved around and completed your duties. 

He caught your eye and you took your place behind him, when he turned his head you approached, ready to obey and tend to his wants. 

“Try to keep me inside, I want you to be wet when I love you tonight.” With a raised eyebrow and a knowing grin, he turned to continue the conversation with his guest. 

All you could do was smile and nod, clenching and obeying as best you could. 

–

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[nadvs]

hard to ignore (two-shot) (part one)

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary when you’re offered a job as a nanny, you can tell right away that you’ll grow fond of the little girl you’re taking care of. things are easy to manage until you realize you’re falling for her dad.

author’s note hugs to @nemesyaaa for sharing the idea of singledad!zach. i couldn’t stop writing (and the one-shot hit 15k words and became a two-shot… i love slowburn…) hurt and comfort. fluff. no smut. divider credit.

content warning parental abandonment

» masterlist

Zach is sure, without a doubt, that he has already lived the best day of his life.

The moment he held Ella in his arms was when the world bloomed into a color he didn’t know existed. Nothing could ever and would ever top that feeling.

He didn’t expect that before thirty, he’d already experience the worst day of his life, too. But he’s certain he has.

He was in a fog, a bad dream he kept trying to wake himself up from. He had stepped into the guest room to see a piece of paper on Jade’s bed and he knew before he even unfolded the letter that she was gone.

He read the last line of the letter over and over again. I can’t live like this anymore. Deep down, he always feared that she would give up on them. But not like this. And not this soon.

After Ella was born, bitterness permanently etched itself into Jade’s face. To her, the baby was always a mistake and Zach stopped being someone she loved and became nothing but the man she regretfully had a child with.

She became the antithesis of the girl he fell for. The love they’d once had was replaced with a cold distance. She started sleeping in the guest room. She ate her meals alone. She left the house as much as she could.

Still, he respected that she had learned to tolerate motherhood. While she didn’t love being a stay-at-home mom, he didn’t think she hated it.

But then she left. And if she could abandon them like this, four years in, not even having it in her to look into her little girl’s eyes to say goodbye, then that tolerance had a cruel end.

That’s why now, a month after her sudden departure, Zach is sitting in his living room, fingers curling the corner of the resume belonging to the woman scheduled to arrive in a few minutes.

Dishes clatter as his mother tidies up his kitchen. Normally, he’d feel guilty and nag her to sit down. But things aren’t normal and he’ll take all the help he can get. It’s been an uphill battle trying to pick up the pieces on his own.

His family drove in a few nights ago. They offered to visit as soon as he called with the news, but he didn’t want to put Ella through too much at once, so he waited a few weeks. Once he asked them to come, they dropped everything and set out for the four-hour car ride.

Ella’s playing in the backyard with her grandpa and aunt while Connie helps Zach run interviews. His team’s managers were understanding when he asked for time off, but Zach can’t be away forever. With his training and match schedule, he needs to find a nanny.

He’d rather not introduce a new person into her life, especially this soon, but it’s unavoidable. At least with a nanny, he can control that Ella will always be in the comfort of her home. A place she knows.

Moments like these, he wishes he hadn’t been drafted to a team a state away. If he’d stayed close to his hometown, Ella would see both sets of grandparents more often and he’d have dependable childcare until he figured out how to function as a single dad.

Zach looks over his shoulder through the window, swallowing the lump in his throat when he sees his daughter running circles around her grandpa in the morning sun. The chime of the doorbell throws him out of his trance.

Soft blue eyes meet yours when the door swings open. The stranger on the other side is tall and handsome and younger than you expected, his half-smile clouded by sorrow. You introduce yourself and he offers you a firm but gentle handshake.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Zach. Come in.”

You trail him into the large house, mind already racing with the potential of it becoming your workplace. The agency had set up the interview. You don’t know much about the client, except that he has a four-year-old daughter and that he requested a nanny who’s adaptable to a changing schedule.

After meeting Ella’s grandmother, you settle on a couch and make small talk and answer their questions. You learn that Zach is a professional soccer player and that his work can be demanding and inconsistent, but with your apartment being close by, you assure him that you’re reliable and flexible.

By the end of the interview, the idea of a nanny doesn’t make Zach nearly as uneasy as it did an hour ago. You’re kind and experienced and knowledgeable and every time you see his little girl through the window, you smile in pure endearment.

Zach likes the idea of his daughter being around someone joyful. Jade grew to be so cold that Ella learned to go to her dad whenever she wanted to feel reassured and loved. It’s comforting to imagine her growing to like you, maybe even love you, and to be met with the same warmth she’s so full of.

The rest of the interviews go fine, but Zach has always operated on gut feelings and you’re a clear winner. His mom agrees.

────୨ৎ────

After an agency rep calls to tell you that you’ve been offered a trial period, you spend five days at the house getting to know Ella while Zach shadows to answer your questions. He’s friendly and helpful, but visibly tense.

The final afternoon, you’re playing with Ella in the living room when Zach’s phone rings. Ella rushes over to his side, asking if it’s her mommy calling. You notice the nervous way his jaw clenches when he kneels to the floor.

“It’s grandma,” he tells her, holding his phone out so the camera will capture them both.

You pretend you didn’t hear Ella's question. You know nothing about her mom and you wouldn’t dare risk crossing a boundary by asking.

Soon after the call, Ella’s drawing at the dining table while you and Zach periodically glance across the room to check on her from the kitchen. He’s been teaching you how he prepares Ella’s favorite foods. He likes that you write everything down, asking him for details down to exact measurements. If he wasn’t sure that you took the happiness of his daughter seriously before, he is now.

He already told the story to his family and to Jade’s parents and to his closest friends, but that was with people he knew well. People who could comfort him. He’s not sure how to share with you that she left, but he wants to hire you, and this is something you should be aware of.

After he slides a pan into the oven, he stands to face you, towering over you as he wipes his hands with a tea towel.

“You have the job if you want it,” Zach says quietly. You smile at him appreciatively. You weren’t feeling confident, considering how on edge he’s been, but you realize it must not have been you he was nervous about.

“Thank you,” you reply. “I do.”

He nods, looking down as he leans against the kitchen island, and says, “She starts kindergarten next fall. You’d be alright with part-time hours then?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Uh, you should know…” he says, turning his head to look over at his daughter, “her mom left. A little over a month ago. It was out of the blue.”

Your heart twists in pain at his words, at the agony that draws itself into his face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, staring up at his profile. Zach blinks a few times, gazing at his daughter. You press your lips together, wishing you knew what to say.

“Ella didn’t get a goodbye,” he tells you. Neither did he, not a real one, but that’s irrelevant. “I told her that her mom chose to leave and I don’t know why she made that choice, but I’m not going anywhere. If she brings it up, please say the same.”

“I will,” you reply with an understanding nod, “and only if she mentions it first.”

“Thank you,” Zach says. “I’ll be honest with you. I really don’t want someone to leave her again. You are planning on staying as long as we need you, right? Even when the hours get shorter during the school year?”

He had that same note of desperation in his voice when he asked you about your commitment to the job during the interview, too.

“Yes,” you assure him. “I understand that she needs stability right now.”

Based on the way Zach’s eyes lower, you can tell he needs stability, too. His wife not only left him, but she left him with their child. You can’t imagine the hole that it dug in his heart.

“Thanks,” he says. He takes a breath. He wasn’t strong enough not to cry when he told Ella her mom was gone and he’ll always hate himself for it, but at least he kept his tears from falling this time.

“Do you want to ask her what she thinks about it?” you offer. “I can go put away her laundry to give you some privacy.”

Zach nods in agreement. And as he expected, when he asks his daughter if she’d like for you to hang around here more often after he goes back to work, she gives him an enthusiastic yes.

You’re purposely slow with the laundry to give them time. You come back into the kitchen to see Ella happily eating a freshly baked muffin and swinging her feet, smiling up at her father as he sits next to her at the dining table.

“My daddy said you’re gonna be here every day,” she says to you with a grin, overjoyed by the news.

“Not every day,” Zach corrects her gently. “But most days.”

“Try this!” Ella exclaims, stretching her arm out towards you, the muffin in her fist. The way you happily accept the food even though it’s reduced to smushed fragments in his child’s small hand makes Zach’s heart feel a little lighter.

“That’s delicious,” you say after you take a bite, settling at the table across from them.

Zach’s still getting used to having a woman around who’s so sweet to his child. Jade would hardly ever accept Ella’s offers to share her food, telling him that saying yes to everything would only raise a spoiled child.

“My daddy’s the bestest cook,” she proudly says.

“Best,” Zach corrects. “Thank you, honey.”

“He really is,” you reply. “I don’t know how I’ll fill his shoes, but I’ll try my best.”

Ella’s face pinches in confusion as she kneels over in her booster seat to look under the table.

“I think his shoes will be too big for you,” she mumbles, pointing to your feet. You laugh, meeting Zach’s gaze, seeing the first genuine smile on his face. You didn’t know he had dimples.

He can’t remember the last time he laughed, really laughed, with someone like this. Life’s dealt him a tough hand, but you’ve given him relief.

────୨ৎ────

Zach is organized. So organized that it sort of amazes you. Not only does he give you his, and in turn, your work schedule a month in advance through a color-coded calendar, but he also provides you with a meal plan for Ella so that you don’t have to worry about making one yourself.

The first day on your own with her is perfect. She’s energetic, well-behaved, and loves to talk. Zach left for training at noon and you were surprised that he found the time to text as much as he did. You replied to his every message asking for updates, sharing what you’re doing and reassuring him that Ella’s doing okay.

He gets home an hour after Ella’s bedtime. He’s been on edge all day, worrying that all this was too much, too fast for his little girl. Maybe he should have taken more time off.

You’re finishing up loading the dishwasher when you hear his keys jingling. You turn to greet him as he paces into the kitchen.

“Hey, how was bedtime?” he asks.

“We read three books and she asked me to stay with her until she fell asleep,” you tell him. “No issues.”

Zach sighs in relief. He never liked afternoon training because he missed bedtime. Ella preferred bedtime with her dad over with her mom. She preferred everything with her dad, really. But hearing that she wanted you to stay is reassuring.

“And she ate well?” he asks. He settles on one of the stools lining the kitchen counter, watching you cross the room to stand opposite him.

“Yes,” you tell him. “She was great.”

“Sorry if I was annoying with all the texts,” he says with a small, apologetic smile.

“You weren’t, but I wanted to let you know that it’s okay if you want to set up cameras. I know some parents like having live video they can tune into throughout the day.” You’d already noticed the security cameras outside when you first came to the house. You understand why he’d be so protective.

Zach threads his fingers through his dirty blond hair, damp from the shower he took in the training center’s locker room.

“Alright, I was definitely annoying if you’re offering to be surveilled,” he mumbles with a chuckle.

“No,” you laugh. “Ella did get a little frustrated, though. We were playing princesses and she said princesses aren’t supposed to go on their phones this much.”

Zach breathes a laugh. You’ve only been here for six days, but he hasn’t smiled this much in a long time.

“Thank you for all your work today,” he says. “I won’t keep you any longer.” You give him a bright smile and wish him a good night before you head out.

When Zach trudges upstairs, he peeks into Ella’s room. She’s sleeping peacefully, curled up with her favorite plushie. Now that he has a semblance of normalcy back in his life, he realizes that beneath the sadness and betrayal, he feels anger.

It’s not typical of him to feel angry. But Jade set everything ablaze when she abandoned them and he’s been left in the ashes, trying to stay level-headed while he’s choking on smoke.

He knows he lost Jade’s heart long ago. She lost his, too. It’s the fact that she broke their daughter’s without any hesitation – that’s what kills him.

────୨ৎ────

Zach never takes you up on the offer to have cameras installed. He starts to let go, little by little, eventually going a full day without sending a single check-in text. It’s gratifying to know you’ve earned his trust.

Before you know it, you’ve been Ella’s nanny for two months. She’s made herself a home in your heart. The only way you’d ever leave her is if you were told to, and you can’t even imagine being fired. Zach often checks in to see if you’re happy with your job and asks if there’s anything he can do to make things better. He clearly values you and doesn’t want to lose you.

It’s mid-morning when you’re playing with Ella on the living room floor and Zach comes through the front door. She rushes to him and you smile as you watch him drop his duffle bag and happily scoop his daughter up.

He had an away game last night and flew in early. His skin is blanched, dark half-circles under his eyes, but like always, he finds energy for his daughter. You admire it about him, how she’s never too much for him.

“There’s a plate for you in the kitchen,” you tell him when he meets your gaze.

“You don’t have to–”

“I know,” you say with a laugh. Zach has already told you many times that Ella’s the only one you have to feed, but you can tell he appreciates coming home to a meal. “There were leftovers.”

“Were there?” he asks, brows quirked, an unconvinced smirk on his lips.

You shrug and laugh again. You’ve grown into a friendly level of comfort with each other and you appreciate how you can joke around with him.

Zach sits in the dining room to eat, listening to Ella tell him all about her playdate yesterday. You tidy up the living room as you overhear her chat about how her friend was showing her ballet poses and how badly she wants lessons.

You’d sent Zach a courtesy text before you fell asleep in the guest room last night: We had a great day. She had a lot of fun on the playdate. Just so you’re prepared, she’s VERY into ballet now and is going to ask you if she can get lessons. Sending some options. Then, you sent him a few links to children’s dance classes in town.

You woke up to two texts from him. The first said: Appreciate the warning and the research. Am I crazy for holding on to hope that she’ll like soccer one day? You smiled at your screen. You’d briefly talked with Zach about how Ella has no interest in the sport her father dedicated his career to.

The second text from him, sent fifteen minutes later, read: Would you be alright with taking her to 6-6:45 pm classes on Wednesdays when I can’t? The season starts next week.

You replied when you woke up: Definitely.

You enter the dining room to see Ella hanging off her dad’s shoulders while he tries to eat, continuing to rattle on about how she’d never miss a lesson and would always listen in class.

“Alright, take a breath,” he chuckles. When he tells her you found her a class at a studio uptown and that he’ll enroll her if she’s sure she can commit, she squeals in delight. She hugs Zach, then runs over to hug you, too, nearly knocking you over.

“Easy,” her dad tells her. Ella asks you to turn on the ballet music playlist you found for her yesterday and launches into twirls across the living room.

“Remember what I said,” you tell her over the music. “If you start to get dizzy, you…?”

“Sit down, I know!” she shouts. You meet Zach’s eyes, both of you wearing smiles. You can see the fatigue on his face under the bright dining room light.

“Do you want me to stay another hour so you can catch up on sleep?” you offer. “I don’t mind.”

He knows his heart shouldn’t skip when he looks at you, but it does. He can’t help it. You don’t see this as a job you clock in and out of. You’ve integrated yourself into Ella’s life, into his life, so seamlessly. He doesn’t feel like you’re an employee here. You’re a friend who goes above and beyond to help. You’re someone who his daughter adores. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out.

He looks down at his plate, embarrassed, as if you can read his mind. His head has been doing this lately, rushing into thoughts of you that are much more than professional. He shouldn’t be thinking that his daughter’s nanny is beautiful.

“It’s okay,” he tells you. “You can head home. We’ll see you soon.”

You nod and call Ella over to look at the calendar Zach made. It’s a routine with her every time you leave. She likes knowing when you’ll be back.

When Zach heads upstairs to drop his things off into his bedroom, he stops when he passes the guest room. You left the door ajar. Even though you always keep it neat, only leaving an overnight bag on the nightstand, there’s a lived in feeling, a warmth in the room that never existed before.

Once again, he has to remind himself that you’re paid to be here. But it’s hard not to like you, because even when Jade was living here, he felt alone, whereas having you around makes it hard to ignore that life doesn’t feel all that empty anymore.

────୨ৎ────

“Which one’s yours?”

You look over to the man sitting next to you on the dance studio bleachers. Young girls hop and whirl over the glossy hardwood floor in a sea of pink tutus, five minutes into their lesson.

“Oh, I’m...” You point to Ella. “Her nanny.”

Ella’s been in ballet for a few weeks now and it’s all she talks about. Zach’s schedule allows him to take her to most of her classes, but this is the second one you’ve come to and you can see just how much she enjoys it.

You make small-talk with the man and a few other parents, which makes the time pass quickly. When you get back to the house, Ella scarfs down her dinner and falls asleep during the first book you read her. You’re sitting in the living room when Zach comes home from training.

He’s nearing playoff season and he’s mentioned that he has much more practices booked in his schedule. At this point, he welcomes how you always pretend to accidentally make too much food. He doesn’t expect you to prepare meals for him, but after you’d reassured him that you don’t mind since you’re cooking anyway, he’s relieved to know he’ll have dinner waiting for him tonight.

“Hey,” you greet him from your spot on the couch. “Ballet was the best idea ever. It really tires her out. Bedtime was a breeze.”

“Right?” Zach says with a smile, pulling off his jacket. You look away to avoid gaping at his biceps under his t-shirt. You thought he was good-looking the moment you met him and getting to know him has only made him more attractive.

“I’ve been wanting to ask if you’d like any help with her birthday,” you offer, turning the tv off and standing up. Ella’s fifth birthday is in a month.

“I have some ideas for her party that I’d like your opinion on,” Zach tells you. “Do you want to stay for a few minutes? Or I can just text you.”

“I can stay.”

He’s relieved to hear it. He doesn’t have many moments with you alone. Usually you’re like passing ships in the night, chatting for just a couple of minutes to catch each other up about Ella before one of you leaves the house, so any window of time with you is something he welcomes. Your presence is comforting.

You sit at the kitchen island together. Zach eats as you scroll through his phone, gazing at screenshots of party ideas he saved.

“Oh, she’d love this,” you say, stopping at a photo of ballerina-themed cupcakes. He gazes at you in awe as you look down at the screen. You’re genuinely delighted at the idea of giving his little girl a perfect birthday. “Do you want to have the party here?”

“Yeah, do you think that’s a good idea?” he asks.

“Yeah. If you’re worried about decorating or cleaning up, I’d come early and stay late,” you tell him, continuing to scroll. “She deserves something big.”

He nods, swallowing down his food, too distracted to go for another bite. He can’t wrap his head around how sweet you are. You have no connection to Ella at all, but you treat her like she’s yours. Sometimes more than her own mother did.

You’ve been here for nearly four months now, which in the grand scheme of things really isn’t that long, but he likes that you have such a deep sincerity to you that he can trust that you care about Ella. That you won’t leave.

You look up at him and he glances away, worried he’s been caught staring, clearing his throat.

“Do you know how many people you’re thinking of inviting?” you ask as you hand him back his phone.

Zach’s face falls as he scratches the back of his neck. You’re suddenly tense, the air of familiarity between you now thick and uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure,” he says.

“Sorry,” you say, nervous you crossed a line. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t,” he reassures you. “Sorry. I’ve just been going back and forth on whether I should invite her grandparents. From her mom’s side, I mean.”

“That must be hard,” you empathize.

“They’ve offered to visit a few times, but Ella hated the idea. She doesn’t even want to talk to them on the phone.”

“Was she like that before?” You don’t have to spell it out for him to know what you mean by before. The topic of Ella’s mom’s abandonment has been a silent cloud hanging over both of you.

“No,” Zach says. “I think she makes the connection that they’re her mom’s parents and she doesn’t want to be reminded of her.”

His lips close into a firm line.

“Well, I admire how you respect her comfort level and let her make decisions,” you say. “Maybe you start the conversation about who to invite and mention the grandparents to gauge her reaction?”

Zach nods, trying not to let his heart get carried away with the way it pounds from your words. He’s received compliments on his parenting from his friends and family, but you see the type of father he is more than anyone else these days. He cares about your opinion and it feels good to hear you approve.

“That’s a good idea,” he says. His fork clatters against his dish and he takes a deep breath before asking what’s been spinning in his head. “I figure you’d tell me, but… she hasn’t mentioned her mom, has she?”

You shake your head no. His forehead wrinkles in concern and it sends a pang to your chest. You lean a little closer, crossing the invisible boundary between you for the first time.

“She could just be processing,” you tell him. “And it might take her a while to talk about it. But she’s okay. She’s resilient. She got it from you.”

Zach hopes that he’s not blushing, but his cheeks are burning. He’s sure you’d be able to tell, but thankfully, you look down and stand straight again, as if what you just said wasn’t one of the most significantly unforgettable things he’s ever been told.

Ella is practically a physical copy of her mother. Zach never minded. But hearing that you think his daughter inherited his adaptability, one thing he’s always prided himself on, feels good.

He wasn’t very confident that he’s been doing a great job at adjusting since Jade left and you just lifted a weight off his shoulders without even realizing it.

“Thank you,” he says. You desperately want to ask how he’s been since his wife left, but you’re afraid you’ve already crossed a line with your boss tonight and you certainly don’t want to risk doing it again.

“Sure,” you reply. “I should go. But I’ll let you know if I think of any ideas for the party. I think the ballerina theme is the way to go. This place will be so pink.”

Zach laughs, trying to ignore the way his chest hollows when you expand the distance between you, stepping away.

“Can’t wait,” he says. “Thanks for dinner.”

“There were leftovers,” you reply, even though both of you are already well aware that every time you say that, it’s not true.

────୨ৎ────

It’s only half an hour into Ella’s birthday party and you’re spent. You’re reaching for napkins from the cupboard to clean up a spill in the dining room. When you turn out of the kitchen, a girl runs past you, tripping and accidentally pouring most of her juice onto your dress.

“Sorry,” she says worryingly, eyes wide as she stares up at you.

“It’s okay,” you reply with a giggle, dabbing at the fabric with one of the napkins. “I came prepared.”

Zach just entered the room, witnessing the moment, wondering if he’s ever going to see you do anything that won’t just push him deeper into his crush on you. But once again, his head is no match for his heart when it comes to you.

He’s been trying not to lose his mind today and it’s not because of the chaotic party that’s taken over his house. It’s because it’s the first time he’s seen you in a dress. While it’s appropriate for the occasion, it shows enough of your figure to make his mouth go dry.

You toss the napkin in the garbage, collect more, then start to make your way to the dining room, looking up to find Zach’s eyes.

“Hey,” you say over the noise. He realizes that your voice somehow settles his pulse and makes it race at the same time. “There might not be enough napkins in the world for this party.”

“Invite everyone she wants,” he teases, imitating the way you convinced him to go along with Ella’s idea to invite all twelve kids from her ballet class.

“I take it back,” you chuckle. When you move past him, the fresh scent of his cologne dances over you and it’s so nice that you don’t want to leave his side. But you shake away the thought and tidy up the spill, then head to the living room to mingle.

It’s better to keep your distance from Zach. You have to remind yourself of it almost every day now. You’d been spending more time together to plan Ella’s party and at this point, it’s actually frustrating how kind and funny and charming and perfect he is.

It took a few evenings of party-planning at the house, your voices low as Ella slept upstairs, to start to get to know each other outside of your job. You’ve learned little things about him, like that he’s left-handed, and that he has a sister ten years younger than him and growing up with her helped him practice parenting, and that he likes a cup of tea before bed because it relaxes him.

You also noticed that he drifts into a more timid version of himself whenever the topic of his profession comes up. You’d mentioned that Ella could eventually grow an interest in soccer, that you’d take her to one of his home games if she wanted, and he nodded with a shy smile, saying he liked the idea.

Every side of him is intriguing, and while your conversations haven’t fallen into anything too personal, you want to know more about him past the friendly distance that stands between you.

Ella quickly darts past Zach in the kitchen and he reminds her that tag is an outside game. He’s relieved that she seems happy and careless today.

He’d asked her about inviting her mom’s parents and she answered with a quiet no. He called them to tell them that this birthday would be too difficult to celebrate together and they understood, opting to send a present in the mail.

Zach is glad he took your advice. As he rounds the corner, he sees you chatting with Ella’s friend’s dad. You probably know him from ballet. Zach has spoken with him, too. He knows the man is divorced.

Jealousy swirls in his chest. He shouldn’t care about you talking to another man. Even though you’ve started to share more about your lives with each other and he’s pretty sure you’re single, you could have a boyfriend you haven’t mentioned.

Again, while he tells himself not to feel things for you, it’s so much easier said than done. He has to look away, wondering why he feels like someone who’s not even his is being taken from him.

All the stress leaves your body the minute the last attendee leaves through the front door. It was a great party, but it was exhausting.

Ella’s eating her dinner as you, Zach, and his family tackle the mess. You make conversation with her while you clean the kitchen, happy to hear her rave about what a good birthday she had.

She asks if you can cuddle her for bedtime. Zach overhears and trudges into the kitchen, crumpled decorations in his hands. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and you try to ignore the fact that the mere sight of his forearms makes your stomach go numb with butterflies.

“It’s been a long day,” he says to you quietly. “I can take bedtime.”

“I got it,” you reply. He mirrors your smile. You like that he’s not the type of parent to be bitter that his own kid prefers you sometimes. He’s just happy that Ella’s happy.

When you’re leaning back in Ella’s bed, chatting as you wait for her to doze off, her arm is draped over your body and her cheek is on your shoulder. She’s grown to be totally comfortable with you, always taking the opportunity to be affectionate.

Your eyelids are heavy as you ramble about what she’ll be doing with her grandparents and aunt in the next few days, as they’ll be staying in town for a bit. Zach gave you the next three days off since childcare will be covered.

“I heard your grandma say something about taking you to the beach tomorrow,” you tell her. “Are you excited?”

“Will you come, too?” she asks. You chuckle softly, kissing the top of her head.

“I have work, remember?” you tell her. You and Zach had decided long ago that you don’t want to tell her you’re paid to be here, that your job is taking care of her. You always just refer to yourself as her dad’s friend.

“Okay,” she sighs. She lets out a big yawn. “If I tell someone my birthday wish, will it not become true anymore?”

“I’m pretty sure the rule is that you can tell one grown-up,” you play along, “and it’ll still come true.” She nuzzles in. You assume she’ll mention a gift she wanted but didn’t receive today.

“I wished that you were my mommy,” she mumbles into the dark.

Your throat tightens and your heart sinks and you hate that the sweet, innocent child clinging onto you has to carry the weight of being abandoned. You kiss the top of her head again and try not to cry.

“I love you, okay?” you tell her. She nods and squeezes you tighter and within minutes, her breathing grows deeper.

When you head downstairs, you see that almost all of the mess has been tidied up. Zach is hauling a full garbage bag to the front door, giving you a tired smile when he sees you.

“Do you need any help with–”

“Go home,” he interrupts, faking irritation. You laugh in defeat.

“Fine.” You step into the living room to say goodbye to his family, antsy to have some time to yourself so that you don’t have to force down your tears any longer.

A few seconds after the door shuts behind you, Zach remembers that he’d set aside a container of leftover treats from the party for you.

You pace down the sidewalk into the cool evening air, unlocking your car remotely, unable to stop your tears from building. When you hear Zach call your name, you quickly wipe at your eyes, realizing you’ve smudged your make-up.

“There were leftovers,” he says when you turn to look at him.

“That’s my line,” you try to joke. You take the container. “Thanks.”

He notices the shine in your eyes immediately.

“Are you alright?” Zach asks softly. You gaze up at him, heart breaking a little more at the concern in his expression.

“Just a busy day,” you tell him.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Or– yeah, but I was going to tell you later. Without the tears.” You offer a pathetic laugh to break the tension, but he’s too worried to laugh, too.

“What is it?” he asks.

You look up to Ella’s bedroom window. The first time you’d walked up to this house, you were oblivious to the fact that the two people living in it would steal your heart. You know you need to tell him what his daughter said. But you’d hoped you’d have more time to process it.

“Before bed,” you say, your voice thin, “she told me she wished I was her mom.”

It takes all the air out of Zach’s lungs. He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s without words. He crosses his arms, looking down at the pavement.

“I know. It’s a lot,” you mumble. Your temples ache as more tears build up, frustrated that this is Zach and Ella’s reality. “It just makes me so sad. I don’t want to say anything bad about your ex-wife, but I don’t understand how she could just leave you two. Has she not called to check in on her? Or to wish her a happy birthday?”

Your heart starts to thrum even harder. Your words were impulsive, surprising you even though you’re the one who said them, and the fear that you just crossed a line and exposed your feelings for him rushes through you.

“No,” is all Zach is able to say. He stares at you, speechless, biting the inside of his cheek.

“When Ella said… what she said, I told her that I love her,” you say. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” he says, his tone tender. Your lips twist into a sad smile. You want to hug him. But you step back. Because he’s still your boss and you don’t want him to think you can’t remain professional. You’re already anxious and regretful that you brought up Ella’s mom.

“Thank you,” you say. “I should go. Good night.”

Zach’s dazed the rest of the evening. He watches you drive off. He goes back inside to finish cleaning up. He spends time with his parents and sister, but soon heads upstairs to sleep, too distracted to keep up conversation.

His mind keeps him awake as he lies in bed. He stares up at the darkened ceiling, watching the shadow of the trees by his window rustle in the wind. In a matter of a minute, your relationship reached a new level of vulnerability.

And now that he has time to wade through his feelings, beneath the pain he feels for Ella and what she told you, he can’t deny that his heart fluttered when you said you don’t understand how someone could leave him and his daughter. Maybe you feel the same way about him.

This is not just a crush. He’s falling for you.

────୨ৎ────

You stare at the text Zach sent you a few minutes ago as you brush your teeth the next morning.

Sorry for bothering you on your day off but Ella has asked me about 50 times (give or take) if I can ask you to come to the beach today. I told her you’re busy but you know her. No pressure but we’d all love to have you. Would count as a work day, of course.

It was already hard to keep your feelings for Zach at bay when all you can think about is his smile and his voice and the way he makes you feel more comfortable than any man ever has, but now, you’re afraid it might be awkward when you see him. You’d said something so heavy last night, then left abruptly.

Nonetheless, the love you have for Ella and the love you’re starting to have for Zach is louder than the worry you’re feeling.

You reply: Don’t count it as work. It’s how I’d like to spend my day off. When and where?

A minute later, he sends you the address and time.

It’s late morning when you text Zach that you’ve arrived at the beach. He heads to the parking lot, leaving his parents, sister, and daughter by the shoreline so that he can speak to you alone. He hates that he was too in shock to thank you last night. But it was all so much to take in.

He spots you pulling a bag out of your trunk, greeting you with a soft “hey” to not startle you. It’s so nice to know that you’re here because you want to be.

You turn to see Zach in his swim shorts, his hair wet, water droplets scattered atop his muscles. You close the trunk, hoping he didn’t catch the way your eyes lingered.

“Hey. What’d you tell Ella about the ‘work’ I had today?” you ask, trying to establish a lighthearted tone. “Did my boss let me leave early?”

“We can say that,” he says with a smile. “He sounds like a good guy.”

“He is. It’s my other boss that’s kind of a nightmare,” you joke.

Zach takes you in, squinting a bit.

“You don’t really think of me as your boss, do you?” he asks, realizing he hates the implication. It makes him feel like even thinking about you as more than a friend is deeply unethical. Like there’s a power imbalance and he’s taking advantage of it somehow.

You still for a moment.

“I mean, I don’t know,” you chuckle. “It doesn’t feel like it, but aren’t you?”

“I guess.” His brows furrow. “It just doesn’t sound right.”

“How about we say… Ella’s my boss? And yours, too, now that I think about it.”

Zach laughs, “That works for me.” He nervously crosses his arms. “Uh… before we go, I wanted to thank you for handling last night so well. I think you said exactly what she needed to hear.”

Your face drops slightly. Remembering the way Ella sounded when she told you her wish, resigned but hopeful, breaks your heart every time you think about it.

“Of course,” you say. It’s a relief that he’s not upset about anything you said. “Is she doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Being her usual self. I didn’t tell her you were coming, so she’ll be excited.” The way you smile at the idea of making her happy is something he’s grown to adore about you.

You make your way to the shoreline, and as expected, Ella squeals when she sees you, running straight for you. You crouch to hug her tightly, thrilled that you were invited today.

You sit on a line of towels with Zach and his parents and his sister while Ella explains to you what kind of sandcastle she wants to make. You make conversation with everyone over the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and eventually, you point out a small rubber ball by the cooler.

“You wanna play soccer?” you ask Ella.

“I’m not good at it,” she replies.

“You have the best coach right here,” you say, pointing to Zach. “Let’s give it a try. Maybe we can all work together to score a goal against your dad.”

Zach smiles in surprise when Ella actually agrees. You help him create a makeshift goal line with pebbles and shells as Ella kicks the ball over the sand with her grandparents and aunt. After you set up, you join Ella while Zach makes an exaggerated show of stretching.

“Is that how you always warm up?” you ask him.

“Is there something wrong with it?” he answers. Ella laughs as he dramatically stretches. By now, you can tell by the type of dad he is that he was always on the playful side.

Ella imitates his stretching, then determination flashes over her face and she darts forward to try to kick the ball past him without warning. Zach pretends to be too slow to react, reaching after the ball has already whizzed past him, and lets out a defeated groan.

He picks his daughter up as she jumps in victory, jokingly demanding she tell him when she got so good at soccer. You smile as you watch them share a moment of joy in the sun.

“Ella, would you ever want to go to one of your dad’s games?” you offer.

“Yeah!” she exclaims.

“Yeah?” Zach says. “Why don’t you say yeah whenever I ask?”

“Just take the win, Zach,” you say with a laugh. He grins, loving the way his name sounds when it comes from you.

You enjoy the rest of the afternoon, talking with Zach’s family, playing with Ella, catching glances at Zach when he’s not looking. They invite you to dinner, but you politely decline, figuring you should give them time alone. You thank them for the fun and go home feeling lighter than you did when you woke up.

That evening, as Connie helps Zach clean up after dinner, she mentions how good you are for Ella. He glances down at his mom as she hands him a rinsed plate to put in the dishwasher.

“She really is,” Zach agrees.

“I think she’s good for you, too,” she says with a hint of a smile.

“Real subtle, Mom,” he chuckles nervously. “It’s not like that.”

“Alright,” she says with an unconvinced tone. She takes a beat. “I just need to say–”

“Of course you do,” he mumbles with an amused smirk.

“–that I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time,” she speaks over him. “I haven’t seen you be you. But you are again, especially when she’s around. It’s just nice to see you smiling so much again. I know things have been tough for you.”

Zach’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. His mom is right; things have been tough, even before Jade left. He desperately wanted companionship, to at least come home to someone he could call a friend, but Jade couldn’t give him what he needed. He hasn’t felt full of life in a long time. Not until you knocked on his door.

“I’m better now,” he says.

Connie nods, sadness filling her features as she pulls Zach in for a side-hug.

“Hey, I’m alright,” he consoles her. “Don't worry about me.”

“You’re a parent. You should know the worrying never stops.” She pulls back. “So, you’re really going to deny it? I see the way you look at her.”

Zach shakes his head with an exaggerated scoff.

“You’re relentless,” he jokes.

“You used to tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Alright,” she sighs. “She looks at you the same way, you know.”

“Mom.”

Connie laughs and hands him another plate. He knows that the idea of you looking at him the way he looks at you won’t leave his mind any time soon.

(part two)

[lxkeee]

Just read your thing about lucifer with a morticia addams like character, and I already had alot of thoughts like, how would it be if lucifer then took her to the hotel to introduce her to the others, what would it have been like if she was at the hotel when lucifer came to see charlie, things like that, it was so great!

LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER

—part two!

I'm gonna add a little twist to this;)

Which is jealous Lucifer lmfao.

PART ONE |

“Darling, are you sure you wanted me to be there? I don't want to intrude on your little family reunion with your daughter.” [y/n] says, her hand over her hips as she looked down (literally) on him. Her antlers form a shadow over his form, majestic.

“Darling, I promise you won't be intruding and yes, I want you to be there. I need your support.” Lucifer says pleading making [y/n] sigh softly, a small smile on her face.

“Alright, anything to make my darling happy.” she says with a giggle.

Everything she says and does makes his knees weak.

He's whipped.

Arriving at the hotel, [y/n] told him he should go inside first as she needed to take care of some... Pests...

Both of them are powerful beings so they are bound to have enemies that follows them.

[y/n] managed to sense those familiar presence who always wanted to take her down but failed spectacularly.

“Wait... I should go with you.” Lucifer says worriedly, holding her hands. [Y/n] just squeezing his hands in assurance.

“Do not fret, it's not something I can't handle and besides, they're nothing but pesky roaches that I could easily crush with a flick of my finger.” [y/n] says with a smirk before leaning down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I will return quickly, and enjoy some personal time with your daughter. You owe it to her, hmm?” she says with a raised eyebrow and Lucifer sighs before nodding with a smile.

“Alright, just... Be careful okay? Promise me.” Lucifer says with a worried tone, [y/n] had to pat his hear.

“Of course, darling. I'll always come back to you.” she says with a small genuine smile, her sharp teeth can be seen before morphing her body into a shadow and camouflages with the surrounding shadows. Leaving him behind to deal with the threat near the hotel.

Lucifer sighs before eventually walking towards the door of the hotel.

Lucifer eventually met the staff and guests of the hotel along with Charlie. He doesn't like that Alastor guy, gives him bad vibes.

“And this is Niffty, she's our house cleaner.” Charlie introduces as Niffty begins to crawl Lucifer just so she could face him face to face, “I clean.” Niffty says with a giggle.

Charlie was nervous to say the least, she's nervous about what her dad is thinking about the hotel. Suddenly there was a knock on the hotel door.

The sound causing everyone to keep quiet. Charlie decided to open the door to see the infamous shadow demon, standing tall and ominous with a large grin on her face.

“Gree—” the tall demoness greeted but was cut off as the door was slammed shut.

Charlie decided to open it again to make sure she didn't imagine things, didn't imagine one of hell's powerful overlords in her doorstep, “tings—” the demoness continued but the door was slammed shut again.

Lucifer had to face palm while Alastor's grin widened as he heard the familiar voice of his deer friend (badum tsss) while also feeling a sense of deja vu.

“Charlie, dear. Can you open the door? It is rude to slam the door on someone's face.” Lucifer sighs with a chuckle making Charlie laugh nervously before eventually opening the door.

“May I speak now?” the tall demoness asked with a grin.

“You may.” Charlie said hesitantly but her hand was quickly grabbed as the demoness shook her hand.

“It is finally a pleasure to meet you sweetheart, your dad has been telling me so many good things about you!” the demoness says with a large grin on her face as she entered the hotel.

The princess of hell was confused.

“Wait... My dad told you things about me...?” Charlie asked as Lucifer walked beside the tall demoness.

“Um yes... Charlie, I would like you to meet [y/n] she's my.... lover...” Lucifer says, voice getting shyer at the end.

Charlie blinked, [y/n] just grins.

Charlie finally processed his words.

“She's your girlfriend?!” Charlie asked, mouth agape.

“Yes, for a few months now.” Lucifer says with a chuckle.

The others just stared at the couple, blinking as they tried to process it.

Well... They are both powerful and they kinda look like each other's type. They thought as they looked at the two.

“My word, I didn't expect you to snag the king of hell my dear friend.” Alastor says with a smirk, his familiar static voice catching [y/n]'s attention.

Lucifer's eyes twitch. This bastard knows his woman?

“Is that Alastor I hear?” [y/n] says with a grin, morphing her body into shadows as she teleports next to Alastor's side.

“[y/n]! It's been awhile since I've last seen you, how have you been my dearest friend?” Alastor greeted, bowing down to place a gentle kiss on [y/n]'s knuckles, a subtle smirk on his face.

Lucifer's left eye twitched as he looked at the scene in front of him.

He's not angry at [y/n], no, no. He is pissed at Alastor though.

“I should be the one asking you that! You've disappeared for seven years, I thought you already kicked the bucket my friend.” [y/n] laughs and Alastor laughed with her.

Lucifer quickly appeared on [y/n]'s side, holding a protective arm around her waist.

“Darling, I didn't know you're acquainted with this man.” Lucifer asked, his eyes glaring at Alastor.

[y/n] just chuckles, intertwining her hand with Lucifer's hand.

“Alastor here is an overlord so it would make sense we know each other. Considering we have our annual overlord meetings.” [y/n] explained, giving him assurance.

Alastor finds entertainment in teasing others and right now is a perfect opportunity to tease the king of hell more.

“[y/n] here is a charming woman, her presence is a real head turner. I couldn't resist getting acquainted with her.” Alastor says with a grin.

The others just looking at the scene happening between the three.

“Oohh... Drama...” Angel whispers to Husk, making Husk chuckle.

*cue the chandelier falling in front of them*

*cue the hell's greatest dad scene.*

[y/n] sighs, a small smile on her face as he watched Lucifer being shown around the hotel by Charlie and Alastor. [Y/n] decided to stay in the lobby as she wanted to get acquainted with others.

“So you and the short king?” Angel says making [y/n] snort.

“Indeed, quite a catch really.” [y/n] chuckles as she sat on the bar stool. Husk preparing her a drink.

“You know what they say, the shorter the height the bigger the—” Angel was cut off by Husk.

“I swear to God if you say dick!” Husk remarked.

“Heart! Goodness, Husk. Get your mind out of the gutter!” Angel laughed.

[Y/n] bursts out laughing, these people are so fun to be around.

“Goodness, you guys are so hilarious!” [y/n] says in between laughs.

Safe to say the others warmed up to her and her to them.

[y/n] spent the rest of her time just joking with the others, occasionally giving Niffty cleaning tips and Vaggie some suggestions on how to improve the hotel.

*Cue the loan sharks destroying the hotel*

Lucifer and [y/n] stood next to each other as they watched Alastor deal with the loan sharks. [Y/n] had an amazed look in her eyes while Lucifer just watched in slight caution.

[y/n] may be the type of demon who finds joy in others pain but at this moment, she places her hand on Lucifer's shoulder as a warning. [Y/n] can tell that Charlie was getting upset from Lucifer's remarks.

“Darling, calm down.” [y/n] says softly but Lucifer's emotions are controlling his actions.

“How can he have faith in me but my own father can't?” Charlie asked, clearly upset.

“Charlie, sweetie...” [y/n] says softly, approaching the poor girl. Squeezing the poor girl's hands in assurance.

Mother is mothering fr.

[y/n] can sense that Charlie and Lucifer needed to talk this out. Giving the girl a pat on her head before walking to Lucifer's side.

“Lucifer... I think it's time to tell her.” [y/n] says softly in his ear. Squeezing his hand in assurance before joining the others. Angel offered her some popcorn which she gladly accepted.

[y/n] looked so proud, watching the father and daughter hug each other. Her eyes sparkled in amazement as she looked at Lucifer's wings. It never fails to mesmerize her.

Lucifer finally agreeing in scheduling Charlie a meeting with heaven.

“Good luck, kiddo.” Lucifer says and extends his hand towards [y/n]'s direction. [Y/n] accepting his hand.

“You can do it Charlie.” [y/n] grins before the couple finally left the hotel in puff of sparkling red smoke.

“I hope Miss [y/n] visits, I like her.” Niffty says with a small laugh.

“Your dad's new lover doesn't seem so bad.” Vaggie says as she stood beside Charlie.

Charlie just smiled, “Yeah, she doesn't seem so bad.”

Charlie is glad her father found someone like [y/n], she can see the chemistry between the two.

“Are you okay?” [y/n] asked softly as she spooned Lucifer on his bed. Her arms wrapped protectively around him.

“I'll be fine. Thanks for being here with me.” Lucifer says softly, blushing slightly as he felt her place a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck.

“Anytime.” she says softly.

[augustinewrites]

“attention, freeloaders! daddy has an evening announcement to make.”

“never call yourself that,” megumi deadpans, already highly unamused by this meeting.

“anyway,” gojo begins, clasping his hands as he paces in front of the tv. “tonight is the night. you two know the drill.”

“yeah, we know the rules,” megumi interrupts again, throwing his head back against the couch. “can you move? the documentary is starting soon.”

tsumiki nudges his shoulder. “stop interrupting. it’ll be over faster if we just let him talk.”

“thank you, favourite child!” gojo smiles, stepping forward to press a kiss atop her head as her brother rolls his eyes. “as i was saying, tonight is our anniversary. so you will not call, text, email, fax, or even send nue with a letter. if you’re bleeding, call shoko. if you get arrested, call ijichi.”

“satoru?” you ask, stepping into the room. “are you ready to go? the car’s here.”

he takes a step back to look at you, pressing a hand to his chest as he breathes, “wow.”

“right?” you laugh, quickly glancing down at your dress. “i am gonna rock your world tonight, babe.”

“oh yeah? we should just kick these kids out and head to straight to bed then.” he’s in front of you in an instant, gently cupping the side of your neck to pull you in for a sloppy, heated kiss. one that he’s all too quick to deepen. his other hand drifting down the length of your back to grab your—

“gross,” megumi scoffs, prompting you to pull apart. “can you guys act like parents for once?”

“sorry,” you giggle, turning to face the kids as satoru rests his chin on your shoulder, sticking his tongue out at the teen. “i ordered food for you both already and it should be here in a few minutes, alright? call us if you need anything—”

“uh uh,” gojo cuts in, already pulling you towards the door. “don’t call us.”

“my phone is—”

“not going to be on!” gojo fills in, kneeling down to help you slip on your heels.

“we’ll be fine,” tsumiki assures you both. “go. have fun!”

“thank you, honey,” you smile, pulling her into a hug as gojo grabs your purse. “nanami will be here around 10 to stay the night with you guys. the guest bedroom is all set up.”

“so if you need anything, bug him. because we will be very busy.” gojo quips, lacing his fingers through yours. “c’mon, let’s get out of here. be good, you two!”

“goodnight!” you add, using your free hand to blow them two quick kisses before you’re pulled out the door.

_____

“okay babe, you know the deal,” gojo begins with the utmost seriousness as soon as you step into the hotel room, yanking at the knot of his tie. “first order of business is sex. loud, adult, no kids in the next room sex!”

“you’ve been waiting for this for a while, haven’t you?” you ask, though you’re already undoing the buttons of his shirt.

in exchange, his hands find the zipper of your dress, slowly dragging it down.

“oh, you have no idea,” he groans as you trail gentle kisses up his jaw. “we can’t get away with anything in that house.”

“we should make the most of this then.”

“oh, i intend to.”

_____

the two of you lay sunken into the mess of pillows and blankets on the bed, wholly satiated and tangled up in each other in the afterglow.

gojo’s tracing soft, nonsensical pattern across your back as he whispers to you in the dark. “hey, so i’ve been thinking…”

“uh oh.”

he pinches the tip of your nose. “i have good ideas from time to time.”

“alright,” you acquiesce with a roll of your eyes. “let’s hear it then.”

“remember way back then? when the kids were little and cute and didn’t talk back to us?”

“didn’t talk back to me, you mean?”

“whatever,” he laughs. “but you remember, right?”

“of course i do. god, megumi was so cute. and tsumiki! she always wanted her hair in pigtails. it was adorable.”

“right? wouldn’t it be great to have all that cuteness, but condensed into a tiny little baby?”

“you want to have a baby?” you echo, seeming genuinely surprised as you gaze up at him.

“yeah,” he shrugs, feeling his cheeks warm at the admission. “only if you want to.”

“you know babies are a lot more work than kids who have pretty much been self-sufficient since birth, right? we’d have to take time off work and—”

“i know.”

“we’ll have to go through potty training.”

“and we’ll do a much better job than toji. megumi wet the bed until he was seven.”

you slap his shoulder, reminding him that you both promised you’d never talk about that again.

“look we’ll— we’ll raise our kid right,” he assures you. “we had two free trials, and they turned out pretty great.”

“okay,” you breathe, because it’s true. the two of you raise great kids. “okay. before we do this, you need to promise me something right now.”

“anything,” he swears, pressing his lips to each of your knuckles.

“promise me nothing will happen to you,” you whisper, an edge of desperation behind your words. “because i can’t do any of this without you.”

his kiss is a promise in itself. it’s slow and sweet and you contentedly let yourself melt into it. “you don’t have to worry about any of that. you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

[lottiies]

TIARAS AND TEACUPS

→ just some fluffy drabbles and headcanons on leon being a girl dad

NOTE: listen i don’t even want kids in the future but for this man?? if he was real and mine then trust i would change my mind real quick ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

this is pretty short, less than 1k words hehe

i.

Leon would never hear the end of it from his coworkers if they saw him like this. There was a plastic tiara with fake pink jewels resting atop his hair. He was sitting criss cross applesauce, for he was a little too big to sit on the tiny chairs his daughter had placed her plushies on.

“Daddy, here’s your cup!” She chimed happily, placing a small toy teacup right in front of him.

“Thank you princess, it’s a pretty set.” His hand could easily cover the entire cup, but to be graceful, he held the handle with his thumb and forefinger. “What’s on the menu?”

“Brownies and…and cookies.” She had a small container of them, having gotten some from the batch you baked the other night. “I’m gonna go get mommy, make sure Mrs. Teddy doesn’t drop her tea!”

Leon looked so out of place, but he was happy, watching with a smile as his daughter ran out of the room to go get you. And surely enough, you joined the tea party a couple minutes later, a matching headpiece on your head and your daughter giggling as she tugged you by the hand and took you to where she wanted you to sit.

You couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh when you saw Leon, and he seemed to catch on, grinning at you. “Look who’s late.”

“Fashionably late.” You corrected him as you pointed at your crown, taking a seat on the floor.

“Yay all my guests are here! I’ll hand out the food but don’t eat without me, okay?”

Leon was always emotional when he was in the same room as the two people he treasured the most.

He could still remember when his daughter was just a newborn baby. He almost broke down that day as soon as he heard her first cries, he never thought he’d get the blessing of parenthood.

ii.

If there’s one thing about Leon as a dad, it’s that he really has no backbone when it comes to his adorable daughter. Lecturing wasn’t his strong suit, he just wanted to spoil her. Thankfully, she didn’t have a knack for finding trouble so he didn’t have to worry all that much.

Here Leon was opening the letter he had gotten from his daughter’s elementary school, skimming through it only to see all the positive commentary the homeroom teacher had left. He was a proud father, and he took her on a trip to the store so she could pick out something nice.

“Don’t worry your little head about the price, okay? You deserve something special, you’re doing so well at school.” He gave her head a gentle pat, staying close behind her energetic form as she scanned the aisle for toys.

Toys. Great. Leon was sure he would sob when his little girl started asking for electronics and cosmetics. God, how he wished these years didn’t fly by so quickly. He had to make the most of them.

“Anything? Even a scooter?”

“Uh huh, even a scooter. Want one?”

“Yeah they’re awesome! Can we go look at them? I wanted to ask for one last Christmas but it was really cold so I wouldn’t have even been able to play outside much to use it. But it’s almost summer now so it would be nice and…”

She continued rambling on and on while Leon smiled happily. He held her hand and walked her over to where the scooters and bikes were.

Though he was a little concerned. What if she fell one day and scraped her knee? Or what if she hit her ankle with the scooter? Worst pain ever. Either way, he’d have to buy her a helmet and some knee pads.

Being a dad was kinda stressful.

iii.

Leon would try to be there for major milestones as much as possible. Yeah, sometimes he couldn’t be there because of the spontaneity of his demanding job, but he made sure to make everything worthwhile when he was present.

Whenever her birthday came up, he’d let Sherry babysit her for a few hours so she wouldn’t be at the house while you and him were decorating the place.

“Our little girl is growing up so fast. She’s already wanting to sit in the passenger seat, can you believe that?”

“You big ol’ softie.” You laughed a bit at his sulking, but you felt the same way, going over to hug him and comfort him. He held your hips, nuzzling against the crook of you neck. He loved you so much, he’d know nothing about happiness without you.

“I think I finally understand what the adults in my life would say when I was younger.”

“And what’s that?”

“That when you’re a parent, your children don’t really get older in your eyes. Yeah she’s about to turn ten but…she’s still our baby girl. I feel like she’s still three.”

HEADCANONS

𐙚 Leon would definitely be the type to look up some tutorials on YouTube so he could learn how to do his daughter’s hair. Doesn’t matter if it’s straight, wavy, or really curly. He’ll get all the products and get as much practice as possible

𐙚 For bedtime stories he’d just make up child friendly versions of his missions. B.O.W’s would become dragons, he’d be some sort of knight, and the setting would be a magical forest instead of some isolated and creepy location. And of course there’d be a happily ever after. In a way, this also helps him cope with his experiences

𐙚 Even in a modern world where cards are used more than cash (much to his dismay), he carries around lots of quarters just in case his daughter wants to get something out of a sticker or candy vending machine

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | v.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Grandma’am’s dissonant notes fill your room as you lie on the bed. The old woman’s wobbly soprano has been the background noise to your awakening this early morning.

At least it diverted you from your dire thoughts.

You rose with low spirits, defeated. You didn’t dare leave the cover of the warm blankets.

You’ve stared at the ceiling for so long, the flower patterns have morphed into smudges of pale color swirling in your vision. It’s all you did the entire morning. Stare at the ceiling while awful thoughts collide in your head. Perhaps for hours. You’re not sure. Time has been a foggy concept as of late.

You can’t even remember when everything started spinning out of control. The beginning of your unraveling.

The day before Coryo held you as you wept in his arms. For a while, in the warmth of his embrace, the uproar in your head fell silent.

Now it’s all noise again. Chaos. You have no desire to climb out of bed, face the day. Perhaps it makes you a bad guest. But hiding is easier. So it’s exactly what you elect to do.

Hiding until it becomes an impossibility.

Or until the door knocks in that case. 

The sound startles you. 

You don’t answer. Instead, you burrow yourself further beneath the sheets. 

The knock starts again. Stubbornly, you ignore it.

“I’m coming in,” a familiar, airy voice announces.

The creaking of the door reaches you and your brows crumple. A slight weight plops on the mattress, making it dip under you. You freeze, willing yourself to remain still. 

A delicate perfume hangs in the air. Guilt seeps through you. It’s not like she’s done anything to you. If anything, she’s been kind. It’s about the hot layer of shame that has grown thick roots into your being.

Her gentle lilt flutters above you.

“I won’t move until you talk to me; I’m worried.”

You gnaw on your lip. The seconds stretch to minutes, arduously long, seemingly endless as she remains on your bed. It dawns on you how deadly serious the older of the Snow cousins is. She will not go away until you speak to her.

Besides, your mother’s voice echoes somewhere in your head. Your behavior is ill-fitted for a lady. Here you are, a guest in someone else’s house, acting like a petulant child.

Though you balk at the prospect, it’s time to face the world.

You huff out a quiet sigh under your breath before peeking above the blanket. 

“Tigris,” you mumble. 

Her thin blonde brows are pinched. 

“You missed breakfast,” she notes. She tilts her head, scrutinizing you as her frown deepens. “First dinner, now breakfast. It’s becoming a habit.”

Concern glimmers in her honey orbs. Your chest squeezes. The last thing you want is for someone else to feel terrible. You push the blanket further away from you, sitting up as a contrite smile tugs your lips. 

“Sorry.”

Tigris’ slender fingers latch onto your forearm. 

“Don’t apologize. Just keep me company today.”

You attempt to deflect, “What about Coryo?”

The blonde releases a deep exhale, crossing her arms in frustration. You’ve gazed upon a similar crease on Coriolanus’ face before.

“He barely has time for me these days. Between his work with Dr Gaul, the University and…” A small smile plays on her lips as her voice trails off. “You of course.” Your cheeks heat at her implication. Of course, you’re aware of Coriolanus’ dedication to showing up for you as of late. But it never occurred to you that it could impede on Tigris’ time with him. It saddens you.

From what you recall of the glimpses of them you caught growing up, there was a time the two Snow cousins were inseparable. After all, ever since they were young, Tigris has been everything to him. A mother, a sister, a best friend. It was clear on Coriolanus’ face too. Fondness was etched on his face whenever he looked at his cousin. 

She leans over you, her tone pleading.

“Come on, I really need a friend, and something tells me you do too.”

Shoulders sagging in surrender, you concede, “I’ll get dressed.”

She leaps to her feet, a victorious smile breaking onto her face.

“I’ll have the maid bring you some food before we go,” she sings. “When’s the last time you ate anyways?”

You purse your lips, shocked at the realization of how long it’s been since your last meal, eating having toppled to the bottom of your list of priorities the last two days.

You give an honest reply.

“I…can’t remember.”

Concern scrunches Tigris’ angular features once more. She then takes her leave and you glumly get ready for the day.

Food is brought up to your room. You nibble down every bite of cheese, bread and eggs until you’re full.

You find the massive trunk Coriolanus had the staff carry up to your room. You marvel as you peer inside, rummaging in search of an outfit for the day. His thoughtfulness astounds you. You don’t deserve a friend like Coryo.

Once you’ve removed your night robe, it pools at your feet. Your stomach sinks at the sight of your bare form. Bruises still speckle your skin. They are starting to fade but the ones on your hips and thighs are still quite prominent. The thought of Coryo touching you this way crosses your mind and you shudder. 

You know you shouldn’t feel this way.

It’s like your friend said. It’s better that it was him than some stranger with nefarious intentions. After all, you were both drunk. You both didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s obvious Coriolanus is as inconvenienced by this as you are. 

You should move on, let the incident scatter amidst the unfortunate mistakes of youth. It’s what common sense dictates. Otherwise guilt will chew you to the bone.

But you can’t. 

Every time you think of that night, you’re unsettled, an inkling of wrong humming through you.

It haunts you. Though you wished it didn’t.

The remainder of the morning is spent with Tigris. The two of you scour the city in search of various fabrics and items her boss, Fabricia Whatnot, asks her to collect. 

It’s a nice change of scenery and you welcome it.

You even get to see Tigris work on a dress, a magnificent wedding gown whose sight stirs a bittersweet feeling within you. It reminds you that your own dress was ruined, a matter you’ve yet to solve. 

…If there’ll even still be a wedding. 

As the afternoon sun crests to a scorching peak in the bright blue sky, she offers to stop by a café which you readily accept. You both sit beneath a wide umbrella on the outdoor terrace. 

You take small bites of your petit fours, the sugar melting on your tongue providing much needed comfort.

“Does your grandmother do this every morning?” 

Tigris’ lips pause above the rim of her porcelain cup, her honey gaze widening at your question. Realization then lights up her face.

“Oh, the singing? Yes, almost.” A fond smile spreads onto her thin lips. “Grandma’am likes to reminisce about the glory days of our family, you know…before the war.”

Your brows furrow.

The glory days...

Could the days before the war truly be referred to as that? The people of the Districts were forced to serve the ever-growing needs of the Capitol citizens, reaping no benefits from their hard work and being kept docile by the perpetual threat of execution.

Exactly like now.

You hardly see the glory in that. Maybe for the victors, the ones who get to stand atop the mountain while others try to claw their way up from the bottom until their hands bleed.

But, as usual, you don’t voice your treasonous thoughts, simply nodding in response.

Tigris and you both relish the comfortable silence for a while. She doesn’t urge you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Idle talk is an arduous task when constant worries gnaw at your mind.

While she may not know the depth of your predicament, you appreciate that Tigris picks up enough not to prod.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” she says. “Quiet. I like to come here when I need a moment to myself.”

Your gaze roams across the luxurious garden near the café. You get lost in admiring the pretty flowers and the swan fountain. It reminds you of your own garden, your beloved roses, probably withering from neglect. You’ll need to tend to them soon.

“It’s beautiful,” you admit. You nibble on your bottom lip before your eyes find hers. “I’m sorry for being…difficult this morning.”

Tigris’ shoulders heave as she replies nonchalantly, “It’s quite alright.” Mirth sparkles in her amber orbs. “I’m sorry for dragging you all over Panem to run those errands.”

You give a small smile. “It’s fine. I enjoyed the distraction.”

You look down and fiddle with your napkin, arranging it in different positions several times in your lap.

“Is something the matter?”

Tigris’ abrupt inquiry makes your head snap up.

You hesitate beneath her compassionate stare. After a long, quiet minute, your shoulders slump.

“I just loathe that I am such a burden to you and Coryo,” you mumble.

Tigris tilts her head, genuine confusion scrunching her features. “A burden? Don’t be ridiculous. You could never be that to me...” Her slender hand reaches across the table to drape over yours. “And even less to Coryo.”

A wry chuckle leaves your lips. “Well, he’s got better things to do than taking care of me.”

She shakes her head.

“Taking care of you is a pleasure to my cousin.”

You wince. “I very much doubt that.”

Tigris’ head lowers, her hand rising to her mouth to dampen her chortle.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, frowning.

“It’s just…you really don’t see how much you’re changing him?” She studies you momentarily before heaving out a long exhale. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately. She smiles.

“I haven’t seen him focus on something other than his ambitions in so long…not the way he focuses on you.”

Your jaw hangs slack at her admission.

She pauses, seeming to mull over her next words. “Coryo…when he returned from his service in District 12, he was so different. I thought all the warmth in him was gone, that he was becoming like my uncle.” A distant, sad look dims her eyes. “A cold, calculated man. But when he’s around you…" Fondness illuminates her face while she gauges you. "I don’t know, it's almost like he’s back to his old self. The little boy I knew, sweet and caring. My little Coryo.”

Her fingers tighten around yours as she beams. “You’re good for him, so don’t worry about being a burden. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Tears of relief almost spill from your eyes at that but you swallow them.

Instead, you return her smile. It may have been at the behest of your dead brother but you couldn’t deny how comforting Coriolanus’ presence has been, his friendship the silver lining above somber clouds. Coryo is the only one who gladly listens when you talk about Sejanus and how much it aches that he’s not there anymore, his passing having left a void that can never be filled. It’s too painful for your mother and your dad’s in plain denial. If it weren’t for Coryo, grief would have eaten you alive, you’re certain of it. 

It’s hard to picture your life without him in it now, in some form or another. In fact, you don’t think you even want to. You may have lost a brother but the gods were merciful and granted you another.

After you leave the café, you and Tigris take a leisurely stroll through the Capitol’s streets. The talk you had with her rejuvenated you. For the first time since that awful night at Clemensia’s, you feel a bit more like yourself. 

All is well until someone strides out of a bakery, someone you know too well. The sight of the familiar face freezes you in your spot. 

Your eyes then lock from across the street. You watch the recognition dawn on his face. 

He starts making his way towards you. 

A surge of panic bleeds inside you. You briskly grab Tigris’ hand.

“Let’s go,” you urge, already pulling her in the other direction. 

“Wait…what?” Befuddled, Tigris lets you drag her along as you start racing through the streets.

You don’t dare look behind you, your heart thundering inside your chest. 

You dive into a busy street. The crowd cloaks you as you zigzag between bodies. Strangers give you dirty looks but you don’t care, focused on running as far away from who you saw as you can. 

You and Tigris end up in a narrow alleyway, catching your breaths behind a dumpster. 

You shoot worried glances at the other end of the alleyway. You lost him, you realize. A strange blend of emotions fills you, every single one carving a larger hole inside your chest.

“Who was that?” Tigris asks between uneven breaths.

Shame swells within you as your gaze lands on the cobblestoned floor.

“My fiancé,” you reply.

“Hey.” Your head lifts from your knees, your eyes traveling to the blond head peeking through the slight opening of the door.

Concerned cobalt orbs study you. You avoid his scrutiny by focusing on a random spot on the bed sheets. He enters the room. As he sits at the edge of the bed, you bring your legs closer to your chest.

His soft tone breaks through your hazy train of thoughts. “Tigris told me what happened.”

You unleash a shaky breath before finally meeting his gaze.

“I’m a coward,” you say.

His hand rises to cradle your jaw, his thumb collecting an errant tear you didn’t even realize had spilled over. “You’re not a coward,” he assures.

Your lip wobbles. Of course you are. You saw William, your own fiancé, and ran away from him. Who does that? An idiot and a coward. But you didn’t know what else to do. You panicked. When his beautiful green eyes locked with yours, all you could think about was those same eyes filled with hate and betrayal if he ever learnt what you did.

“I am,” you affirm.

Coriolanus strokes the side of your face, his tone growing firmer, “It’s a tough situation…”

His sentence is halted by a loud banging downstairs. 

Your eyes go wide.

“What’s that?”

The faint echo of your name being yelled from outside reaches you. Your heart leaps as Coryo’s features go taut, his jaw clenching.

His lips stretch in a tense smile.

“I'll go check. Stay here.”

“I’ll come.”

You jump from bed and make a beeline for the door. He tries to placate you by holding your shoulders, blocking the exit with his towering frame.

“Princess, I don’t think-”

You glower at him. You can’t run forever.

“You can’t stop me, Coryo.”

Tension hangs in the air for some minutes, thick and electric, before he relents with a deep sigh, “Alright.”

Heart in your throat, you take slow steps down the stairs. Coryo trails behind you in silence.

Your name’s uttered again, the door rattling as he bangs against it. You flinch.

Trembling feet drag to the front door. Your hand spreads over the wooden carving. You take a deep breath before hesitant words stumble out of you.

“William, you can’t be here.”

“I love you. Of course I should be here.” 

Unwavering determination vibrates in his tone. Guilt flares within you. You swallow the impending rush of tears. You don’t deserve him. He’s good, kind, honest…and you’re a liar.

“I saw you with that girl, Snow’s cousin. Talk to me, baby, please.”

“I just need a little time...alone.”

“What? Is this about the wedding preparations? Is it your parents?” He sounds confused and hurt. Your heart wrenches. You’re hurting him. It’s exactly what you meant to avoid. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. We can face anything as long as we’re together.”

The desperation thickens in his voice.

“Come out. I just want to see your face, please.”

“I…”

Your fingers hover above the gold door knob. But your hand is snatched by long, stern digits before it can fully wrap around the handle. Coryo tugs you away from the door. You gasp as his deep voice resonates in the lobby. 

“You need to leave her be. She told you she needs space, William,” he says.

“Snow!” A mirthless chuckle ripples from the other side. “I knew it had to be you somehow.” You leap as the hinges of the door shake as William’s fists slam against it once more. “What did you do to her?”

Tears well up in your eyes. 

“Right now, it’s you that’s hurting her,” Coriolanus says, his fingers curling around yours. “What kind of husband-to-be doesn’t respect his future wife’s wishes?”

Your brows collide. You wish he didn’t speak like that. After all, you’re the one at fault. But fear keeps the words chained to your throat.

“I just need to see her, please,” William insists.

Your stomach lurches. This is insane. Your fiancé is on the other side of the door and you won’t let him see you.

Maybe William’s right. Maybe talking to him will fix everything.

You sniffle and wipe your tears. You take a solid stride towards the door again, fingers ready to open it. 

“I think I should, just for a few minutes.”

Your decision is made but Coryo’s hand cinches around your wrist. This time his hold is much firmer, on the cusp of painful in fact. 

You grimace as he draws you away from the door, near the stairs.

He bends over you to whisper hotly, “To tell him what, princess?” Angling your chin upward, he sighs. “That you gave me something you denied him all this time? After just a few drinks?” Heat nestles in your cheeks. It is true. Both you and him got near that point so often, but you were adamant about waiting for your wedding night. It was your excuse every time. You doubt he’d take it well if you told him what occurred. While you want to believe your relationship will survive it, Coriolanus’ words are tossing fuel on every insecurity within you. Your confidence wavers, your hand sagging in his hold.

Coriolanus’ intense blue gaze is hard on you as he continues, his raspy tone low and foreboding, “Or perhaps, you’ll make up a lie? You really think he won't see it on your face?” A contrite expression settles on his handsome features. “You wear your emotions on your sleeves. He’ll know right away.” His thumb sweeps over your cheek to wipe a lone, stray tear. “William seems like a good man, but such a betrayal…it’d break the two of you before you even began.” He leans closer, his lips ghosting over your earshell. “He will never forgive you.”

All hope shrivels inside you, the last remnants you still held onto crumbling to dust.

You almost made a mistake. Of course Coryo’s right. 

“Do you trust me?” 

You give a frantic nod, releasing a shuddering sob.

He smiles at your response.

“Then go upstairs,” he instructs. “I’ll talk to him, fix everything.”

Seeing you linger at the bottom of the stairs, longing gaze darting to the door, Coriolanus squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m going to make sure you still get to have a wedding at the end of this.” His smile grows wide. “I promise you.”

You search his face. Confidence radiates from his expression, planting the belief that he’s right deep within you. You shouldn’t have doubted him. Coriolanus has gone to great lengths to help you. Even now, he’s protecting your future. It’s more than one should ask of a friend, yet he’s doing it for your sake.

“Thank you,” you say. His hand slackens around yours, a satisfied glint dancing in his cobalt gaze. You rush up the stairs, not daring to look back in fear you falter once more.

[wandasaura]

THE BEST THING THATS EVER BEEN MINE

summary — when you take the dogs to the park, jealousy takes control when wanda gets too comfortable with someone else.

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, the chaotic duo of lucky and fanny, domestic fluff bc i couldn't help myself, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, mommy kink, biting, love bites, oral fixation, teasing, slight humiliation, brief dumbification, jealousy, bratty reader, thigh riding, mentions of fingering, clothed sex, punishment, aftercare, men/minors dni

authors note — the promised second part to love is a ruthless game. jealous reader finally makes her appearance as requested!

You decided very quickly that however curious you were about adopting a dog, you never wanted Wanda to agree with that decision. Although the sun was already peaking past the horizon when Lucky came scratching at the guest room door,  effectively rousing not only you, but Natasha from sleep, it wasn’t even eight in the morning. It wasn’t often you woke up with the Russian still in bed beside you, typically being the last one to wake and the first to fall asleep, and now that you had her warm and soft beside you, you weren't even able to enjoy her clingy cuddles like you wanted. Lucky was persistent, his whines and whimpers thin but effectively audible despite the heavy door trying its best to block him out. Wanda’s voice echoed through the house in tandem with the pitiful whimpers, trying to beckon the pup back downstairs, but the retriever was adamant about wanting you awake. 

Natasha groaned beside you, her face shoved into the pit of your neck where the impeding sunlight was darkest. Her hair tickled your cheek as she wiggled further into you, soft breaths fanning across the expanse of your shoulder. You giggled softly at the sensation, twisting into her arms until you were chest to chest, then leaning in to press a kiss to her clothed skin right above where her beating heart laid. You sighed blissfully, thankful that Wanda has managed to distract Lucky, but knowing that despite the reclaimed silence, you’ll be unable to go back to sleep now that youre awake and focused on Natasha. 

“I love you.” You whispered against her chest, laughing when her lips puckered against the skin of your neck and kissed you sweetly albeit sleepily. She was always affectionate, always wanting to assure you know how loved you are, but you’ve discovered that when she’s tired theres no amount of physical contact that can satisfy her. As if determined to prove that statement, she tugs you closer into her chest, fingers loosely threading into the knotted ends of your hair.  “Do you need more lotion on your wrists?” You question softly, untangling your arm from between your chests so that you can trace the tips of your fingers along her cheekbones. 

As if she wasn’t sure about the question, Natasha rolled her wrists in circular motions, testing just how badly the irritated skin ached from the aftermath of being restrained. You scoffed amusedly, deciding that her answer wasn’t going to be trustworthy when she finally did respond. You pulled yourself away from her chest before she’d even returned her gentle grip to your hair and lower back, though you giggled when needy fingers poked and prodded at your ribs trying to get you to stay. 

“Come back.” She whined, rolling into the center of the bed, and although she was covered by blankets, you could make out the soft rising and falling of her chest as she turned onto her back and finally peeled her eyes upon to drink in the sight of you still messy from sleep. Your hair was frizzy, cheeks flush and adorned with indentations from the pillows prominent and deep against your skin. You slept like dead weight, but Wanda’s rustling always found a way to tousle strands of your hair that she inevitably got caught between. You looked like sheer beauty as sunlight dawned upon your features. “Duckling.” She pleaded, arms outstretched and pleading with you to step close enough to touch. 

You smiled fondly but remained persistent, already turning toward the door and leaving Natasha to lay amongst the ungodly amount of pillows and thin summer bedding as you searched for the lotion Wanda used last night. When you opened the door, you were met with the indicative sounds of breakfast being made down in the kitchen. The clattering of metal and plastic made you smile, still not accustomed to how a house could feel so lived in each and every day. It was a mystery what the Sokovian would be preparing as she clattered around in the kitchen accompanied only by Yelena’s dogs, but desperately you hoped that it was something sweet; sweeter than the fruit that she’d been forcing you and Natasha to eat everyday for the past three weeks. 

The bedroom was two doors down and directly across from Natasha’s office. Deciding that a detour wouldn’t hurt the already pouty woman, you broke away from your intended path and verged off into the office where paperwork and files sat meticulously stacked on the left side of her desk. The right side was dressed in personal items, namely a picture of the three of you from the Memorial Day barbeque, and little trinkets that you assumed came from Russia. You’d have to ask how frequently she visited her native country, noting that some of the figures on her desk looked shiny and new. You smiled softly when you noticed a ring sat beside her keyboard, knowing that it wasn’t hers, but Wanda’s. You wondered just how many small traces of them existed within the others personal spaces, but that would have to be a scavenger hunt for another day. 

You smiled softly when you pulled open her desk drawer, finding your now voided contract at the top of the pile she kept. You don’t think she’d ever part ways with it, telling you that it’s a reminder of how far she’s come since you met her last year, and you can’t disagree with her logic. The sticky notes she keeps are right beside it, all annoyingly mundane and lacking bright colors. Wanda’s the one with the plethora of color options, which had thrown you for a loop when you’d initially assumed Natasha was the fun one. Either way, you pulled a single piece from the pad, reaching for a pen that was laid across her other documents. You didn’t have the time to dwell on what you wanted to say, settling simply for the three words you loved the most and a deformed smiley face that would surely make her laugh. Natasha always did find amusement in your mindless doodles, something you found extremely endearing. You adhered it to the monitor of her desktop, assuring that none of the glue residue touched the actual screen because she’d surely lose it. When you were satisfied that it was in a place she wouldn’t miss, you slipped back into the hallway and carried on into the bedroom, eager to be back in her warmth for at least a handful of minutes before Wanda called you both down for breakfast. 

The bedding had been stripped from the bed, all that remained was naked pillows and the fluffy mattress that begged for your weight to sink into it. The collection of your clothes that had adorned the hardwood floor were all missing as well, and you assumed that in her need to find order, Wanda had thrown them in the washer as well. She really was horrible at letting a mess exist for longer then a handful of hours. With the sunlight bleeding into the room, adding warmth the wooden furniture and floors, all that remained from last nights scene was the bottle of lotion on the nightstand table, the other toys and instruments already cleaned and back in the combination locked briefcase. 

You freshened up in the bathroom, not wanting to linger in your sleepy state for any longer then you already had, and the water you splashed against your face felt exquisite after receiving so many licks and kisses from Fanny and Lucky yesterday. With your hair tied up into a ponytail and the rest of your routine completed in full, you left the bathroom behind you, eager to find Natasha once again. 

The Russian was in the same place that you’d left her in ten minutes ago, sprawled out on her back with wild red curls splayed angelically against the pillowcases in a fashion that was reminiscent of a halo. You grinned sweetly, climbing over her body until you could settle against her belly, not saving her the experience of your full weight plopping down on her in seconds. You giggled at her grunt, calloused hands holding onto your thighs as she peeled her eyes open and looked up at you with faux annoyance. 

“Wake up.” You more or less demanded, your bright smile significantly more electric than it had been when you’d first laid your eyes on her that morning. Natasha couldn’t resist smiling back, and her hands reached to rub at her cheeks as she forced herself awake. She and Wanda always resisted rubbing their eyes in the morning, claiming that it was damaging and not the best habit, but you couldn’t be swayed, and secretly, Natasha found it adorable when your closed fists dug into your eye sockets like a sleepy toddler as you stretched out the muscles in your body only to curl up into a tight ball again. “Wanda’s making breakfast.” You informed her gently, unscrewing the cap on the lotion and squeezing a generous amount onto your palms in the same fashion that you’d seen Wanda commit to. 

Unlike last night when she was adamant that all she needed was cuddles from her ‘two favorite girls’, Natasha didn’t fight against you when you reached for her wrist and held it tenderly in front of your chest. You inspected the irritated skin, pleased that although it was red and adored with the faintest traces of ligature marks, the skin wasn’t torn apart nor angry. You rubbed the lotion into her skin tenderly, not wanting to further irritate the area, and Natasha appreciated your efforts as she sighed in relief. You giggled, leaning forward to brush your lips against the tip of her nose before you repeated the process on her other wrist. 

“Can I bite you?” You questioned randomly, breaking the silence that had come to sit overtop of your warm bodies as you devoted your full attention to Natasha’s wrists. 

Amused, Natasha’s lips settled into her infamous smirk that always had you weak in the knees. The green within her eyes was sharp and calculated as she watched you play and twist at her fingers now that your initial task had been completed. “You’re going to bite me anyways.” Her voice was smooth as it reached your ears, not outright refusing your request of biting down on her fingers, but not entirely compliant with the idea. You smiled down at her eagerly, wanting to have her full permission before you sunk your teeth into her soft skin. “Once.” She agreed, nodding her head at your unasked question. She was never able to deny you when you looked so sweet and eager sat against her, and after all of your efforts to make her feel loved since coming down from the scene, she didn’t really want to say no anyway. She could handle your incessant need to bite her if it would make you happy, however her permission didn’t come without an ultimatum. “Then I’m sending you off to Wanda.” 

You laughed at her threat, but nodded anyways, bringing her fingers up to your lips. You kissed them sweetly, your lips soft and barely there as you just existed in this soft moment with her. Your delicacy didn’t last for much longer, and the second she had relaxed against the bed, your teeth sunk into her skin harshly; harsher then you’d ever even consider biting Wanda. You giggled at her yelp of shock, scrambling off her lap and out of the guest room before she could think about retaliating. 

You raced down the stairs, throwing caution to the wind as you forced yourself to forget about all the lectures Wanda had bestowed upon you about how dangerous to run down them. Natasha was hot on your heels, her footsteps light and calculated as she called for you to come back to her. The sounds of Wanda rummaging through cabinets became clearer with each step you took toward the kitchen, and when she was in sight, already showered and dressed for the day, you wasted not even a single second before you were throwing your arms around her torso and hiding your face in her chest just as she had spun around to find whatever the commotion was about. 

Lucky and Fanny barked with glee as you unintentially riled them up, their tails wagging as they made laps around the island, knocking into the chairs that sat on one side of the counter after each successful lap. Wanda gasped at your tight embrace, but one of her hands fall onto the small of your back without hesitance. 

“Save me.” You pleaded, looking up at her with wide eyes that held mischief and chaos. You didn’t spare Natasha a single glance when you heard her enter the kitchen, more than certain that she wouldn’t do anything with Wanda present. 

The Sokovian hummed thoughtfully, her eyes sparkling as she looked down at you with adoration clear in her sage stare. Her pink tinted lips quirked upward into an amused grin, scrambled eggs on the stove momentarily forgotten about despite how they sizzled and begged to be removed from the heat. “What did you get yourself into, moya utenok?” She grinned, tracing a gentle finger against the slope of your nose that felt ticklish before it was gone and her hand cradled the back of your head protectively. 

“Nothing!” You shook your head frantically, clinging closer to her chest when you felt Natasha come up behind you, her hands cold as they ran up the exposed skin of your thighs. There was disbelief written across Wanda’s expression, the sunlight bleeding in from the open window practically a spotlight as it highlighted each and every freckle that adorned her naked skin.

“The little devil bit me.” Natasha exclaimed though her voice was perfectly level as she held her hand up for Wanda to see, the sunlight falling into the soft craters your teeth left along her skin. You couldn’t help but giggle, looking up at Wanda with a bright expression on your face. 

“She said I could!” You explained mischievously, your eyes bright and enchanted as the organic light reflected across your face. Your entire disposition wasn’t dissimilar to the state of Lucky and Fanny who had begun to chase each other through the house, still hyper on your own excitement, though now they barrled into glass doors and walls each time they turned to bark at the other. “I asked nicely and she said I could, Mommy.” As your voice raised three octaves, so did your height as you pushed yourself up on your tippy-toes and left a sweet kiss on the corner of Wanda’s jaw, attempting to pull her beneath your trap as Natasha gasped at the scene. 

“Do not play the Mommy card you little minx!” You shrieked in laughter when Natasha grew tired of caressing your thighs, her cold hands taking you by the waist and pulling you back into her chest, though your eyes still lingered on Wanda who merely shook her head in amusement at the sight. You attempted to squirm away from Natasha’s fingers that dug into your ribs, but her grip was persistent around your waist, not allowing you freedom. 

Your eyes closed against your will, your head falling backward as laughter filled the kitchen alongside the barks and yelps of the puppies who didn’t understand what was going on, but wanted to be a part of the fun anyways. Fanny’s tail drummed against your shin as she circled your feet, but you had no time to show any attention to the retriever as Natasha blew a raspberry against your neck. Your laughter ended abruptly when in that same spot, her teeth sunk into your skin. A choked moan slipped past your lips as her tongue shot out to ease the spark of pain before you could even recongize its presence. Your fighting stilled, body falling slack against her chest as she trailed kisses up your neck before biting again, this time just below your ear. A shuddered whine fell off your lips as you craned your neck to the side, eager for her to do it again. The position allowed sunlight to kiss against your features, warm and welcoming as you basked beneath it. 

Natasha’s arms stayed tightly around your waist, but her teeth never left another impression amongst the smooth expanse of your neck. You whined softly when you realized she had no intentions of continuing, a pout taking over your lips as you peeled your eyes open and looked up at her pleadingly. 

Natasha leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose, but her unbroken stare as dangerous and calculated as she maintained eyecontact, her hand cupping your chin to assure you didn’t look away before she was willing to let this moment fall away into just another memory.  “Don’t forget who you belong to, malen’kaya.” 

You pouted deeper, wriggling out of her arms at the first instance that she allowed, instead seeking out Wanda who was thoroughly amused at the stove, an apron half tied around her waist and dusted with what you could only assume was powder from the pancake mix she’d thrown together. The Sokovian didn’t hesitate to wrap you up in a one-armed bear hug, keeping you flush to her chest as she flipped a pancake with a matte black spatula. Even their utensils matched the aesthetic of the kitchen, sometimes it felt like they had everything so meticulously planned out that not even an apocalypse could throw them off. You nuzzled your face into her neck, inhaling that fresh scent of grapefruit that lingers on the collar of her t-shirt, eyelashes tickling her skin as you let your eyes flutter closed. “You’re wife’s being mean.” You sulked against her, your voice muffled and thin as you listened to her heart beat evenly in your ear. 

You yelped in shock when a warning tap langed against your ass, entirely unexpected and harsh within your soft little moment. Your head shot up from Wanda’s neck, searching for Natasha who looked down at you with a challenging gaze. “Do you want to try that again, little one?” She questioned, arms crossed over her chest as she stood beneath the unfiltered sunlight that allowed the green in her eyes to shimmer like a million stars. Your head shook feverishly, fingers curling into Wanda’s shirt as you held her tighter, your lips turning downward into a pout as your body finally caught up with what had happened and the ache in your ass settled over your mind. One spank always hurt more then multiple, you’d never be able to understand why. “No, who?” 

You shrank into Wanda, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth as you fought between looking at Natasha and hiding away in the woman who kept a comforting hand against the small of your back, her thumb rubbing soft circles over the thin shirt adorning your otherwise naked body. When the words finally fell off your lips, they were no louder then a whisper. “No Daddy.” 

“That’s what I thought.” She muttered, nodding her head curtly before she turned toward the refrigerator and sought out the pitcher of fresh juice that Wanda routinely assured was fully stocked at the start of each new week. This week, she’d gone with grape juice from the local farmers market, and it was particularly tart when you were least expecting it. You whined softly, digging your face into the lawyers neck, fingers still keeping a tight grip on her shirt. 

Wanda, feeling no sympathy for you, merely patted your back encouragingly. “You shouldn't have started a game you didn’t want to play, dorogaya.” You whined, shaking your head against her neck. Wanda wasn’t in the mood to play into your game, and her hand on your back trailed across your spine until it sat firmly against your hip, her ring clad fingers squeezing warningly. “Don’t get fussy with me. You’re the one who bit your Daddy. What did I say about biting?” 

You pouted, just wanting one of them to take pity on you, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards for you this morning. Lifting your head from Wanda’s neck, you met her eye and meekly muttered, “That you’d bite me back.” 

Smiling softly, Wanda kissed the top of your head, her lips lingering for a second longer than necessary, but you’d never complain, reveling in the soft touch. “Exactly. Now go help Daddy set the table. I was thinking we can take the dogs to the park today. Yelena left their leashes and I’m sure Natasha had a couple balls laying around here somewhere.” 

You’d never even considered taking the dogs out for a play, but as the suggestion rolled off of Wanda’s lips you nodded eagerly, tightening your grip on her shirt as you practically bounced on your toes and forced your chests closer together, practically one body beneath the radiant glow of summer sunlight. You’d miss it when fall came around, and the soft glow adorning your girlfriends skin dissipated into nothingness. “Can we go to the park with the big fields? Lucky will love that!” 

Wanda smiled at your excitement, glad to see a smile gracing your features again. “If you get your little ass in the dining room and help Natty, I don’t see why not.” She laughed, laying another little kiss on your forehead before you had the chance to untangle yourself from her completely and dart off in the direction that Natasha had trailed off in. 

“Deal!” You giggled in excitement, your sockless feet pounding against the hardwood floors as you made a break for the dining room, unintentionally colliding with Natasha who had only just turned around to grab the needed silverware for your breakfast of pancakes and eggs. You didn’t find it necessary to step away form the lawyers chest, standing right before her with anticipation clear on your smiley face. Your arms extended at your sides, palms raised toward the ceiling as you bellowed, “Natty, we’re going to the park!” 

“I heard, detka.” Natasha laughed at your excitement, gently taking your arms into her hands and holding them closely to her chest. Her lips pressed soft kisses against your wrists. “I also heard that you needed to help me with the table.” 

“Yeah.” The smile on your lips didn’t leave fully, but it dimmed as you pulled away and began the search for Wanda’a favorite cutlery, because leave it to the lawyers to have multiple sets all intended for different events and holidays. “Do you think Fanny will run away if we let her off the leash?” 

“She won’t run away.” Natasha laughed, dragging her fingers against the small of your back as she joined you beside the long dresser filled with different assortments of serving plates and utensils. She pointed toward the intended set, and you collected three forks and knives with a hum, unable to contain your excitement. 

-

The beating sun fell harshly against your sunscreen slathered skin, provoking sensations of warmth and comfort as you and Natasha chased after the softball she’d dug out of the garage. Lucky had decided that your game of fetch was no longer worth his attention, and had retreated back to Wanda’s side after you’d thrown the ball far off into the field for the umpteenth time. Your laughter bellowed through the park as Natasha bumped her hip against yours, sending you sidewalks on your walk to retrieve it. 

Although the grass was luscious and green, concealing many lost toys and objects, the lime colored ball stuck out like a sore thumb just inches ahead of you. The hours had rolled by quickly, afternoon soaking up the last of its stretches as nightfall became an approaching promise that no amount of pleading could stall. You’d spent the last four hours beneath the rays of delicate light, enjoying the practically abandoned park for what it was. Birds chirped at the very tops of tall trees, squirrels carried acorns across the sidewalk and scurried up the bench only to drop them and begin the process over again, only occasionally did another dog owner come trailing through and stopped for friendly conversation, but Wanda always responded eagerly. You hadn’t had a day this simple in weeks, spending most of your time either out beside the pool or trailing after your girlfriends as they tagged each other in to be CEO for the day. It felt utterly domestic to be beside them surrounded only by nature and traffic sounds, far away from paperwork and the house that had begun to feel confining. You soaked every second up eagerly, knowing it would end far too soon. 

You reached for the ball when you were close enough, batting away Natasha’s hands as she fought to retrieve it first. The Russian laughed loudly when you attempted to shove her body out of the way, yet despite all of your strength being put behind the shove, she remained perfectly in place. You huffed, but quickly your lips curled into a grin when the ball was safely between your fingers. Natasha merely rolled her eyes because you both knew that she had let you win despite her dirty tricks. You spun around to show Wanda, your smile wide with pride, but your eyes didn’t find the Sokovian alone beside the bench where the bag of treats and water was left. Instead, you found her in deep conversation with a woman she looked all too comfortable beside. 

You weren’t a jealous person, you could let a lot fall off your shoulders, but there was something about the way she was talking with the stranger that made your belly sick with envy. The green eyes you’d fallen in love with were creased around the edges, bright and full of radiant light as she continued on with the conversation that had her laughing. Her head was inclined to the side in that same dominating manner that she’d bestowed upon you mere hours ago, and although one of her hands scratched at Fanny’s coat, the other reached out to brush against the stranger's forearm. She wasn’t Wanda as she stood beneath the dark shadows branches on the tallest tree in the park projected, she was Mommy. Your smile fell quickly, the ball no longer anything interesting. 

Natasha’s hand falling onto the small of your back startled you enough for the ball to fall back into the blades of grass, slipping through your fingers like it wasn’t really there at all. You watched it slip into the tall blades, nearly concealed entirely, and you made no attempt to retrieve it as you turned your frown in her direction, the falling sun still bright enough to force you to squint as the light hit your eyes. The Russian laughed softly, her thumb rubbing softly against your clothed skin. “Got a problem, moya lyubov’?” There was a mischievous gleam in her equally squinted eyes, and you took the time to notice that surrounded by the clear blue skies and open fields, the color around her pupils was electric and undeniably green.

“Mine.” You huffed out, wanting to wriggle your body if only to make a point that you were unhappy with the entire arrangement happening before you. Your slitted eyes trailed over to Wanda once more, but the Sokovian was still oblivious to your heavy stare.

“Yeah, she’s yours, dorogaya. But, she’s also friends with Daisy.” Natasha smiled understandingly, her hand on the small of your back guiding you closer into her side. She wraps you up entirely, her cheek falling onto the top of your head as the both of you steady your glances on Wanda, and apparently Daisy. You decide quickly that you don’t like the latter. “She’s still yours, nothing is going to change that.” 

“I wanna go home.” You pout, aware that you’re being petulant, but not willing to change your mind as you detangle yourself from her arms and collect the softball without so much as a nod of acceptance from Natasha. 

It takes seventeen steps exactly to end up directly beside where Wanda’s standing with Daisy, you count each and every one as your feet pound against innocent blades of summer fresh grass. You’ll miss the softness that squishes beneath your feet when winter rolls around and everything becomes muted and harsh, but for now, you’re content to overlook the beauty of this moment in favor of getting out as quickly as you can. 

“Hey, utenok.” Wanda smiles sweetly down at you, her hand brushing against your forearm as she attempts to draw you into her side. You shrug off her touch, lips settled into a scowl as you make your way toward the bag packed with everything you could possibly need for not only the dogs, but for yourselves. You’ve been snacking all day, the tupperware of strawberries and pineapple nearly empty as you and Natasha had shoved your mouths full of the fruit an hour into your park visit. 

“We’re going home.” You say curtly, already holding onto the two solid purple leashes that would soon be attached to the solid black collars adorning the puppies necks. Wanda’s eyebrows raise not only in question, but in challenge, your dynamic having lingered in the air since that morning, but you weren’t willing to submit anymore. 

“Oh, are we?” She hums, both her and Daisy turning to watch you as you beckon Fanny and Lucky to your sides, fingers already clamping around their collars and clipping the leashes to them. You're as gentle as you can be, but Fanny’s wriggling around makes it harder to attach. You sigh in frustration, getting down on your knees to softly coax the retriever into momentary stillness. “That’s my cue Daisy.” Wanda decides to give into your decision, if only to uncover the reason behind your attitude if nothing else. You merely huff when Daisy says goodbye to not only Wanda, but you, her black painted fingernails wiggling softly beneath the setting sun before she’s back to jogging down the path, her ponytail swinging with every step she takes. 

“Nat!” You call for the Russian, watching her frolic through the field like you hadn’t told her you wanted to leave. The softball is between her fingers, and every couple of minutes she throws it back up into the air and lets it crash against her palm. Her sharp eyes find you smugly, but you’re in no mood to let her win. “Let’s go!” 

“I don’t like this little attitude, detka.” Wanda warns evenly, her eyes slitted into dangerous daggers as she peers down at you dominatingly. You merely huff at her stance, only able to picture her standing in such a way in front of Daisy. When you don’t bend like you typically do, she cocks her head to the side, green eyes begging to understand what’s happened in the last ten minutes. “What’s the problem, you were having such a good time.” 

Unable to help the eyeroll that follows her question, you don’t even bother looking up at her as you begin to set your pace for the entrance of the park, both leashes tightly between your fingers. “What does it matter to you.” You mutter, just barely able to step around her before her hand is grabbing onto your wrist and keeping you still. 

Wanda pulled you back to her chest, assuring that you wouldn’t move before she let her words slip against the softest area of your neck, chills falling down your spine as her breath tickled your sensitive skin. Her words were dangerous, calculated even, but all you could picture was her hand on Daisy’s arm when she should’ve been paying attention to you. “I would think about who you’re talking to like that, detka.” She warned, but you merely huffed and tugged your arm free. 

“Leave me alone.” You snapped, fingers curling possessively around the two leashes in hand. Lucky and Fanny, who had been more than thrilled to go on a walk, pulled at their leads with eager excitement, their golden tails wagging in tandem with the other. You didn’t fight against them, letting them lead you in the direction of the entrance, not even craning your head to assure that Wanda and Natasha were following. 

-

Much to Wanda’s annoyance, your attitude seemed to be around for the long haul. Dinner was an awkward affair, filled only with the sounds of silverware clanking against plates and the occasional comment from Wanda who had given you several chances to amend your little issue. You weren’t receptive to any of it, though each attempt dampened your panties that were now stuck uncomfortably to your throbbing core. Her hand had fallen firmly against your thigh halfway through dinner, and she spared you no ounce of pain as she squeezed the sensitive flesh each time you had the courage to roll your eyes at her or even worse, Natasha. The Russian had been merely collateral damage, but every time she chimed in at Wanda’s defense, you found yourself growing more annoyed, but worse than that, sexually frustrated. Despite the scene last night, neither of them had touched you, and with Wanda’s hand lingering so close to where you needed her, that fact had turned you into putty quickly. 

Yelena had come to pick the dogs up just after eight, only sticking around for long enough to inform Natasha of the grueling activities she’d been forced to oversee for her company’s annual donation fair. You’d never understand what it was that Yelena did exactly, but each time she talked about the job that kept her busy and moving, it was always with exuberant pride and happiness. You were happy for her little life that she adored, but you were even happier when she left and you could throw yourself at Natasha with a bruising and desperate kiss. 

Your arms looped around her neck, chests flush together as you swiped your tongue across her bottom lip, hardly caring that you were making out with the highest profile lawyer in the world right beside the open window. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to pass by could see how desperately your fingers curled into the curls at the nape of her neck, your hips having a mind of their own as you attempted to push your bodies into one. Natasha was more than receptive to your embrace, but the second you thought you’d won the fight for dominance, she backed you up against the wall, your wandering hands pinned above your head. 

“You’re not mine to have tonight, d'yavolenok.” Her hot and heavy breaths fall across your lips as she settles her forehead against yours, effectively ending whatever you had anticipated to come from the impromptu kiss. You whined, hips arching off the wall and pushing into hers, desperate to change her mind, but there was no winning tonight. The only way you were getting even an ounce of pleasure was through Wanda, and the Sokovian sat unamused on the couch, not even attempting to join in on the game you’d initiated. 

“I want you, Daddy!” You whined, pouty eyes searching for hers, but Natasha had already made up her mind, and as quickly as her hands had pinned your wrists, the touch was falling away and she was walking back toward the couch where her body sank in without protest. Wanda didn’t make any move to embrace the Russian, but it didn’t seem like Natasha had expected her to, because she curled into the arm of the couch and settled her attention on the television, entirely uninterested in your high pitched whines and stompy feet.  

“If you want something, I suggest you end your little tantrum and bring your ass over here, dorogaya. I will not tell you again to cut it out.” Wanda’s voice is stern and cold, but your feet find their way closer to her either way. You don’t ask before you settle into her lap, a pout on your lips as you press your face into her neck and hold onto her tightly. She doesn’t push you away like you’d anticipated, but you should’ve known by now that Wanda would never push you away, still the fear lingers in your mind anytime you push against her authority. Instead of handling you harshly like you’d thought would happen, her hand comes up to cradle the back of your head tenderly while her other hand settles on the small of your back beneath the t-shirt adorning your torso. Her skin is warm, not entirely cold but not exceedingly hot either. She feels perfect against you, but there's more that you want, and she’s making no indication that she’s going to give it to you. “Do you want to tell me what’s got you so fussy?” 

When you don’t answer, Wanda’s fingers tangle into your hair and pull your face away from her neck sharply. A guttural moan falls off the tip of your tongue as your head cranes backward and your eyes flutter closed. Your hips, still with a mind of their own, twitch against the thigh you’ve found a seat on, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your lower belly that rages with a fire demanding to be extinguished. “I made myself very clear, utenok. I’ve been very lenient with this attitude of yours, do not be so foolish as to think I won’t have you over my lap in the next thirty seconds.” 

You whined at her words, hips still grinding against her thigh. You’d never found yourself in this position before, never desperate enough to search for release against her thigh adorned with only freckles and the lingering presence of sunscreen, but there’s not a single coherent thought in your brain that tells you to stop and maintain the little dignity you have left. Your shorts are thin, your panties even thinner as they become soaked through entirely, and each pass of your hips against her skin feels beyond pleasurable. “M-Mine.” You just barely get the words past your lips before Wanda’s pulling at your hair again, provoking a shuddered whine that sounds entirely too high-pitched to have fallen from your lips. 

Wanda’s silent for a moment, but when she speaks again, your cheeks flush pink and you whine in embarrassment. Hearing her verbally address what’s been bothering you makes it seem so pathetic. “Is this little attitude of yours about Daisy?” She questions, the hand in your hair slipping away to instead hold tightly to your chin, forcing your eyes to meet hers beneath the lamplight drowning the living room. 

“Mine.” Your whimper is soft, entirely breathy as you search her eyes, pleading with her to understand. Wanda merely hums, a soft smile gracing her lips that had been pressed into a thin unimpressed line before she’s drawing you closer and slotting her lips against yours in a passionate embrace. You groan into her mouth when her tongue, hot and light, swipes across your bottom lip. You don’t fight her for dominance, instead allowing your lips to fall slack and accept the presence of her in your mouth. She searches every part of you with passion, her hands falling down to your hips at some point, dragging you against her thigh with intent, helping you find a steady rhythm whilst simultaneously distracting you with a bruising and head swimming kiss. 

You only pull away when you can’t handle both sensations of pleasure at once, your head swimming in fuzzy thoughts as your hips begin to stutter desperately against her thigh. Your shorts are equally as drenched as your panties, and you’re sure that with each forced drag of your hips she can feel the wetness seeping into her skin, hot and sticky with desire. You’re so painfully close, but the stimulation isn’t enough. “M-More.” You pant, head thrown back as your eyes flutter closed, your fingers tangling into her hand that’s hanging loosely down her shoulders. 

Wanda merely laughs at your desperation, the sound cruel and entirely condescending as it pairs with your desperate whines and moans. “Oh, honey. Did you really think I was going to give it to you easily? My poor little duckling, no. Either you cum on my thigh, or you don’t cum at all. Only good girls get what they want.” She taunts, dragging her teeth against the expanse of your neck, humming in contentment when you release a shaky sigh, your fingers grabbing at her desperately. 

“I-I can’t!” You cry out weakly, your hips losing their rhythm as you try to chase the pleasure that's ebbing away with each failed thrust. Her hands have stopped guiding you, sitting heavy on your thighs that frame her waist. 

“My dumb little baby needs Mommy’s help with everything, huh?” The Sokovian ridicules, but her hands find a home on your hips either way, beginning to guide your pace again. She’s ruthless, quick with her motions and entirely controlling, but it gets you back at the top of that mountain of bliss in seconds, and your whines of frustrations become moans of desperation. You’re so close, so painfully close that you can taste the wisps of pleasure that dance across your vision, but it’s still not enough. Wanda’s enjoying herself entirely, each rock of your hips forcing your body to roll against her own dripping core, and the sounds of Natasha’s moans fill your ears albiet vaguely, your own pleasure drowning out the sounds of hers. Still, you don’t even have to look at the Russian to know that her hand has disappeared beneath her shorts and her fingers are glistening with her own arousal. “Come on, detka. Cum for Mommy, be a good girl.” 

Your moans become frantic when Wanda flexes her thigh beneath your weight, giving you just the right addition of something more. Thatall it takes for you to fall off the edge and cum on her thigh, your panties absolutely saturated in pleasure when you finally stutter to a stop against her chest. The Sokovian’s moans are broken and soft as her head tips backward and she meets the same fate as you. You sink against her chest, pushing closer into her as you whimper in sensitivity, trying to wiggle away from her thigh and settle fully in her lap. 

“Mine.” You whisper against her skin, inhaling the traces of grapefruit that have dissipated throughout the day, but if you focus on her scent hard enough, the faintest tinge of fruit still linger around the collar of her shirt. Your hand searches for hers, and she allows you to grab onto it easily, guiding up to your lips as your eyes flutter close and you embrace the darkness that comes with it. Her thumb is heavy against your tongue as you bite at it softly. 

“All yours, detka. Just yours.” Wanda promises, her lips ghosting across the top of your head when she adjusts the position she’s in so that she can lean against Natasha’s chest, assuring that you're safe against her chest as her own eyes flutter closed. “Nothing is going to change that.” 

The hand that isn’t held captive dips beneath your shirt again, and her nails scratch soft lines across your spine as you melt further into her, eyes only peeling open when you become desperate to hear the same reassurances from Natasha. “Mine.” Your words vibrate against Wanda’s skin, and the lawyer smiles fondly down at you.  “You’re mine, sweetheart.” Natasha’s hand falls gently onto your cheek, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone as she holds you tenderly. “You’re ours.”

[red-smut]

LH: Admission video

Sana x male reader

+2500 words

I have finally finished it! I think it could have been much better but I'm satisfied. I hope you enjoy the fic!

“Oppa, wake up” Sana is sitting astride you giving you gentle taps on your cheek in an attempt to wake you up. She’s only wearing one of your sweatshirts and the black thong you so eagerly took off last night, her messy blonde hair falling around her shoulders.

“It’s still early… let me sleep” your open your eyes to look at Sana.

Your girlfriend pouts and then quickly leans over to give you a quick kiss “It’s half past twelve! Get up! I want to eat!”

You make a long sigh and gently pull Sana off of you to get up reluctantly “Ever since you came to live here you’ve been enslaving me” you leave the room and head to the kitchen.

Sana, with a beaming smile lighting up her face, eagerly follows you into the kitchen. She gracefully settles herself on the counter, crossing her legs as she watches you with curiosity and affection. “Like you don’t like having me here.”

“Well, maybe it’s not all that bad,” you admit with a slight smile as you make breakfast, enjoying your girlfriend’s morning company.

Sana gets up from the counter and gives you a hug “By the way, a letter has arrived, I left it on the table in case it’s something of yours” she gives you a kiss on the cheek and returns to the room.

When you finish making breakfast you leave it on a plate, then you see the pink letter with a stamp with the initials LH perched on the table and walk to the table to open it

Good morning sir/miss, if you have received this letter it means that you and your partner have been chosen to enter Lust House, where you will live the greatest experience of your lives.

At Lust House we will not only make you feel like kings but you will also be able to fulfill any sexual fantasy thanks to our 24h service or the help of other hotel guests who will surely be willing to help you.

We will cover all your expenses so you won’t have to worry about money here.

However to enter you will have to be chosen by our president, so we kindly ask you to record a video introducing yourself and explaining us the following topics:

Sexual orientation

Sexual experience

Fetishes

Fantasies

Also after the presentation you must record a video having sex, no matter if it is anal or vaginal, hard or soft… just record a video.

This may seem like a scam, but we ask you to trust us so you don’t miss the best experience of your life.

Please send the video to the address written on the back of the letter.

Sincerely, Lust Hotel

“What nonsense, how can I bite on something like that” I turn to throw the letter in the trash but I find Sana, who seems to be reading It behind me and takes the letter from my hands to continue reading it with interest “You are not going to believe something like that don't you?”

Sana finishes reading and carefully leaves the letter on the table “Well I think we could do it, if it’s a lie there will only be a video of us fucking, it doesn’t seem so much, and if it’s true…” she quickly cuts the distance and puts her arms around your neck, whispers the following words in your ear “it will be a lot of fun if we can really go to a place like this” Sana gives you a kiss on the cheek and separates from you “let’s prepare the script already and we record It tomorrow”

Sana comes back to the room jumping up and down, you follow her while talking to her in a medium high tone “Hey I didn’t say yes!”

The camera placed on the tripod is pointed directly at the couch, where you and Sana are sitting. Sana is dressed in a nice black dress with a bow, her blonde hair is perfectly styled for the video, but you know that Sana is wearing absolutely nothing under the dress, which was enticing you to rip her clothes off and fuck her already without even turning on the camera. You however are wearing a t-shirt and jeans, completely out of place with your girlfriend.

Sana fixes her hair a bit and turns to look at you “I’m ready Oppa, turn the camera on”.

You take a deep breath and lean forward to press the ON button, with a click the camera turns on and Sana puts on her best smile before speaking “Hi guys from Lust House, my name is Sana and this handsome guy is my boyfriend Y/N, we are a serious couple but we are open to live an experience as promising as the one you have offered us.”

Sana pauses a little before continuing “I'm bisexual but my boyfriend is straight, I always tell him that he should at least try once to do it with another guy because maybe he likes it and he is missing out on something really fun but he is a stubborn”

Sana tends to be very talkative, sometimes too much and can stay talking about the same thing for hours, but this time she has stopped early and as you turn to look at her you realice that her beautiful eyes are locked on yours, silently telling you that it’s your turn to talk.

Immediately you look at the camera and continue, ‘Well… as for sexual experience, I haven’t had much, barely 3-4 girls… But I’m sure we won’t disappoint them because Sana has had a lot of experience with both guys and girls, perhaps too much experience.’

Sana makes a gesture as if she hasn’t slept with too many people, as if you were just exaggerating.

‘I don’t have any fetishes to highlight, but…’

”Liar” Sana’s laughter fills the room as she laughs at your words.

‘Hey, I don’t have fetishes.’

‘Sure…’ Sana stops laughing and continues speaking, ‘I love fucking, I don’t care if it’s anal or not, I don’t care about the position, and I don’t care who dominates whom, I just want to be fucked with a good cock.’

You glance at her sideways, slightly surprised by her sincerity as she continues speaking.

‘As for sexual fantasies, Oppa here is quite a pervert, he has many fantasies and I know them well, but the best one is fucking a lesbian couple until they beg for more…’ Sana brings a finger to her lower lip while trying to remember something, ‘I think there was something else… You also want to breed one of them, right?’ She turns to you with a mischievous smile.

‘I told you to not talk about that.’

Noticing the slight annoyance in your expression, Sana lets out a small laugh and gives you a light tap on the shoulders, then placing her hand on your thigh.

‘As for me… maybe a double penetration, I’ve never done it before and it could feel really good.’

You are surprised to hear Sana say that. ”You never told me that, my cock isn't enough for you?”

Sana looks at you playfully and starts stroking your cock over your pants. ”Oppa… your cock is perfect and I love how it stretches me, but two are better than one, right?”

‘If you say so…’ Sana subtly leans in towards your lips while unzipping your jeans. ‘Come on, don’t be mad… what if we start with the other part of the video now?”

Sana presses her lips against yours and licks them, asking for permission to stick her tongue in. You immediately comply and start an intense kissing session with Sana, making your cock start to get harder and harder.

Sana’s tongue swirls with yours, occasionally moving away from your lips for a moment to plant quick kisses on your cheeks. While doing so, she continues to caress your bulge with her hands.

The kisses don’t end until Sana manages to pull down your jeans and underwear. Your cock springs out and Sana’s lips leave yours to approach your cock. She gives it a long lick from bottom to top and delicately grabs it to show it to the camera. ”Look at this tasty cock… It’s perfect for being in Lust House, isn’t it?”

You slide your hand down Sana’s back and start unbuttoning her dress. Meanwhile, Sana wraps her lips around the tip and begins to suck it, looking at the camera, hoping that those watching the video enjoy the show.

Sana moves away from your cock for a moment to help you, and once you’ve gotten rid of her dress, she focuses her attention on it again, covering it with kisses and licks. At the same time, you search for her pussy with your hands and discover how wet she is. ‘Babe… you’re wetter than usual.’

‘The camera turns me on…’ with that simple answer and a small moan as she feels your fingers caressing her clit, she plunges your cock into her mouth and starts sucking it with such dedication that you have to concentrate to not cum. You grab Sana’s hair and use it as a leash to control her rhythm while stroking her clit.

Her lips glide smoothly along your length while her expert tongue caresses every inch of your member. You feel pleasure building up inside you, every suction and every lick bringing you closer to your limit.

Skillfully, you slide two fingers inside her wet pussy, feeling her sharp moans muffled against your cock.

Sana intensifies her pace, her mouth enveloping your member with more force while her tongue caresses your glans with precision.

‘Baby… if you keep this up I’m going to…’ Sana interrupts you by devouring your entire length in one go and stops looking at the camera to give you the dirtiest look she can while she stays there, doing a deep throat.

Then, with a burst of ecstasy, you let yourself be carried away by the wave of pleasure that envelops you, your body trembling with each spasm as you release your load into Sana’s mouth.

Sana stays there with her eyes closed, feeling the warmth of your seed flowing down her throat.

After a few seconds, Sana slowly releases your cock, letting it go with a ‘pop.’

‘As delicious as ever, Oppa.’ She strokes your cheek and then turns to the camera, sticking out her tongue to show that she has swallowed it all.

‘What do we do now…?’ Your cock is hard again after Sana’s performance and she notices. She takes the camera off the tripod and gets on all fours next to you, putting the camera in front of her so that her face is clearly visible. ‘Shut up and fuck me.’

You sigh and get up to position yourself behind Sana, kneeling on the sofa and bringing your cock to her two entrances. ‘Where do you want it?’

‘Do you think I care? Just put it in and…’ Her sentence is cut off by the loud moan that escapes from her lips, which is repeated over and over again every time you pull out and push your member back in her pussy. Sana writhes and her hips move towards you unconsciously while she shows the camera a face of pure lust that any man would pay to see.

While ensuring to drive her crazy with your cock, your hands roam her body to please her more, caressing her breasts with one hand while directing the other towards her face, taking advantage of one of her moans to stick a finger in her mouth and force her to suck it.

The girl who had dominated throughout the video is now unable to speak since that cock started splitting her inside.

But you weren’t any better than Sana, between her walls not stopping squeezing your cock and your girlfriend’s performance turning you on so much, you had no idea how you hadn’t filled her already on the third thrust, but there you were, holding on like a champion while you tore her apart.

Shortly after, you pull out your finger from her mouth and grab her arms, pulling her up a bit to bite her earlobe before whispering to her.

‘Does it feel good?’

With a lascivious smile, Sana responds stuttering, ‘Y-yes, Oppa… y-you can go harder if you want…’

You let her go and she falls onto the sofa, now firmly grabbing her hips and starting to push with all the strength and speed you can muster, ready to make a final sprint to bring her to orgasm and also cum yourself.

Over the next few minutes, what the camera captures is Sana’s face contorted with pleasure, her eyes rolling back and a smile of pure bliss on her face as you fuck her. You completely surrender to the frenzy of the moment, thrusting into Sana with determination and passion. Her moans fill the room, each one more intense than the last as you hold onto her tightly, feeling the heat of her body against yours.

Sana’s hands grip the sofa, her nails digging into the fabric as she surrenders completely to pleasure. Your thrusts become more frantic, more wild, driven by the desire to bring her to orgasm. And then Sana climaxes, screaming as her juices bathe your cock and push you to do the same.

“I’m going to…” You start to say, but Sana cuts you off with a weak voice, “Inside… Today’s a safe day…”

No more needs to be said. You impale your cock inside her, going as deep as you can and letting all your baby batter spill into her. Shortly after, you pull out your member, letting your seed slowly slide out of her pussy.

Sana blindly closes the video and, without changing position, she brings the camera closer to you, barely turning her head to look at you. “That was good, very good… could you go send them the video, please? I… I will stay here for a while.”

“Of course.” You take a few seconds to rest and then grab the camera, approaching her to give her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll get dressed and send it.”

You grab your clothes and head to the bedroom, leaving your girlfriend to rest.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A young uniformed girl enters a luxurious office; in the center sits a sultry woman staring at her computer, from which moans from what seems to be a sexual video can be heard.

“Boss.” The woman doesn’t even look up, attentively watching everything that happens in the video while the girl continues speaking.

“Miss Myoui and Miss Hirai have confirmed their attendance, I think this is enough for…”

“Jisoo.” The woman speaks with a serious and authoritative voice, and upon hearing her, Jisoo immediately falls silent and lowers her head. “I want these two to come as well, respond to them immediately and have them come.”

Young Jisoo nods and turns to leave the office, leaving the woman alone with the video.

[targaryenimagines]

A Gentle Flame

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6,701

Summary: After months of trying, you are finally able to give something back to your Khaleesi that she never thought she’d have again — an heir to not only House Targaryen but the Iron Throne. You just aren’t sure how you’d like to reveal the good news to your beloved; taking solace in your dearest friend’s company as he tried to help you in revealing the truth. Of course, you should have known that your dragon’s possessive fire would never be quenched — not even for Grey Worm.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, jealousy/possessiveness, and pregnancy.

Notes: Can be seen as part of the “My Khaleesi” series, but can also be read as a stand-alone as well. Thank you to the wonderful @rain-mikaelson for this amazing idea!

Series Masterlist

“She doesn’t know?”

You don’t have to turn around to see, with picture perfect clarity, the confusion that must have been etched upon your dearest friends face. The thickening of his accent alone told you all you needed to know.

“No,” you reply, setting the brush you had been fiddling with firmly back in its place on your vanity. “I only just discovered it. I went to the Palace Healer after I missed my second cycle in recent months.”

The familiar sound of leather rubbing against sharpened metal echoes through the air — a telltale sign that he was processing what had been revealed — as you begin to fiddle, once more, with the brush you hadn’t needed since the conversation had commenced.

“And the Healer?” He hedges out the question, hesitation clear in his tone. “She won’t divulge anything to the Queen?”

“No, I made sure of that. The only way Daenerys will find out I’m pregnant is from my own lips and no one else’s.”

There’s a brief moment of silence. “Why tell me, Your Grace?”

Twisting around, so you’re finally staring face-to-face with your closest companion, you can’t help the small, albeit genuine, twist of your lips as you smiled at him. “Because you’re my closest friend, Grey Worm.” You wave a hand in the air, even as a melancholic twinge echoes within your heart. “Dany always had Missandei and I always had you.”

“And you still do,” he intones, clearly fighting through the wave of emotions that her name still invokes within him. “You always will, Your Highness. For as long as I shall live and be able to raise my weapon to the sky in your honor.”

You’re touched by the fierceness within his tone — not doubting, for even a second, the sincerity behind his words; Grey Worm would always protect you, would always be there — but the knowledge of what the upcoming days would bring, causes you to lean back against your vanity with a heavy sigh.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to break the news, Grey.” Running a frazzled hand through your hair, Grey Worm simply observes as you sort out the various thoughts whirling in your head. “The Summit is commencing in five days, the guests will be arriving in two, and you know how Daenerys has been planning this for months.” Your eyes raise to meet stoic brown. “I can’t have her know I’m pregnant until after.”

He tilts his head. “I would assume the Queen would be ecstatic to learn the news, Your Grace.”

“She would be,” you state, confident in that knowledge at least. “But, I can’t have that be what she’d focus on this week. Even if she’d pretend to be business as usual, we both know how Daenerys gets when even the slightest chance of my safety is in question. How do you think she’d react or behave, with all these unknowns arriving in King’s Landing, if she knew I’m with child?”

Grey Worm doesn’t respond, he didn’t have to, not when the last time your life had seemed to be in peril was still so fresh within both of your minds. You had been ambushed returning to the Red Keep after a day in the city, a couple of vagabonds testing their luck against Valyrian and Dothraki blades, it had ended quickly, but your darling wife had not taken the news of no major injuries lightly; not when things could of had a different conclusion. Daenerys had been on a warpath for weeks, refusing to let any stone go unturned, until everyone she deemed responsible for such a fuck up was punished accordingly; whether that be the genial blacksmith that had sold them their weapons, the proprietors of the tavern the vagabonds frequented and loudly discussed their plans, or the guardsmen themselves that hadn’t realized there was a threat before it was almost too late.

“She can’t know,” you stress. “Not when this Summit means so much to her.”

There’s a beat of silence, wherein your closest companion simply observes you, taking note of what feelings must have been flickering within your gaze, before he inclined his head, an imperceptible motion that only the people who knew him would be able to pick up.

“What will you have me do?”

“I wish for you to stay close, my love.”

It wasn’t a request, nor a question, by the steely undercurrent that lay within her tone, the diplomatic smile on her lips causing her eyes to strain with the force of keeping her emotions in check. You could tell that Daenerys had begun to tire of playing host to all the nobles, both of major and minor houses, that Westeros seemed so proud to boast. However, the end result of what this Summit could potentially do, collecting all of the major players within the Seven Kingdoms to witness the power that is House Targaryen, meant that she was allowing herself to be docile for the moment.

At least until the single House that caused her hackles to rise appeared.

House Stark moved as a singular unit, bringing truth to the old adage that its members were like a wolf pack, but the lone man leading met your gaze solidly with his own steely brown. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by Daenerys, nor the guard standing mere feet behind you both, and you could practically feel the air thicken with growing tension. Something that would have caused Daenerys to take up arms if she knew of the life I’m now carrying.

“Your Majesties.” A familiar gravelly voice greets, his head inclining to the both of you. “It’s a pleasure for House Stark to be invited back to King’s Landing.”

His sentiment was clearly not shared with the two women behind him — the shorter of the two looking like she was about stab someone and the taller one’s lips twisting in bitter distaste — but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Warden Snow,” Daenerys greets in return, her smile now almost looking like she was baring her teeth in warning; a sign of dominance that any wolf would know to back away from, unless it was a fight they were after. “I welcome you to the Summit with open arms. I do hope that the amenities within the Keep will be enough to sate you during the duration of your stay.” Violet eyes flicker to icy blue just behind him. “If there’s something you need, you’re more than free to find an attendant that will help you with any issue you may have.”

You stifle the urge to curse under your breath at Daenerys’ veiled insult. It was no secret that House Stark, namely the red-headed she wolf, was at odds with House Targaryen; ever since Daenerys had blatantly told them that the North would not be gaining any form of independence, siting there was no justification for it, as Daenerys had barely gained anything from the short alliance they had brokered during the Long Night. Nor did the North have anything to truly offer since The Wall fell.

It’s an argument that still caused an icy frigidity from members of House Stark now — one that Daenerys didn’t deign important enough to deal with at the present moment, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t ever watchful for what the scheming mutts could be cooking up in order to gain a modicum amount of power for their insipid region — which is why, due to their close proximity, you could feel the steady presence of Grey Worm at your back, his rigid posture even more tense than usual due to the news that only he, and the Palace Healer, were privy to. His close proximity is something you’re sure Daenerys has taken note of, if her varying glances throughout the night were anything to go by, but she was constantly pulled in different directions before she was able to speak the words that clearly wished to escape.

Although aware of your close relationship to the Captain of her Queensguard, she was also aware of Grey Worm’s unfaltering fealty to her and how he would never cross a line that Daenerys had drawn in the sand the moment she had claimed you as her own; you were off limits. The only time anyone should ever enter your personal space, barring her and your handmaidens, and even they had a tight leash to tread with, was if they were pushing you out of the way of immediate danger.

You had told Grey that his proximity would be a red flag to your wife, but his protective instincts seemed to not care as he stared impassively at the three individuals at the bottom of the dais you were standing upon.

Knowing that this could only go one way, if the looks that were being exchanged between Daenerys and the youngest Stark were anything to go by, you step forward, placing a gentle hand to the small of your wife’s back. “I believe it’s time to give your speech, Dany,” you murmur. “And we both know you don’t want to keep this crowd waiting.”

While Daenerys doesn’t turn to face you fully, you’re well aware that you have her attention, her body leaning against the palm of your hand, the simple touch soothing the roaring fire that might have been into a gentle flame.

“You’re right, ñuha perzys.” A gloved hand ghosts across your hip, but Daenerys keeps her gaze resolutely forward. “I’m afraid I must cut this rather delightful exchange short. It’s about the time that I should be addressing the room.” Violet eyes glint sharply. “Wouldn’t wish for anyone to think I favor House Stark.”

Crisis averted, you think, observing the whispered conversation between the three as they left to find their seats. For now.

A soft touch to your cheek causes you to almost jump out of your skin, the sight Daenerys’ concerned expression doing little to sate the racing of your heart. “Are you well, dearest?” Worry colors her tone, eyes flashing with a protective fire. “You’ve seemed preoccupied all night.”

“I’m fine, Dany.” You cradle the hand that’s currently still doing the same to your cheek. “It’s just been a long day. I’m anticipating when it’ll all be over and I’ll get to be alone with you.”

You could tell that your wife felt the same, but something still lurked in violet depths that you adored so much. Something that made you want to curse once more — sometimes you hated how perceptive your wife was, even if the knowledge that she observed you to the point that she could pick apart the very foundations of your moods set you alight with adoration, you couldn’t help but wish that Daenerys would let this slide.

“I’m anticipating the same,” Daenerys replies, stepping back to offer you her arm; a gesture that you accept instantly. “But, for now, we must be the royals that Westeros demands us to be.”

Keeping your gaze locked with the seat that’d be your home for the next few hours, you completely miss the look Daenerys sends Grey Worm as he diligently follows behind you, never missing a step, remaining your ever loyal shadow, and the way her arm tightens around yours that much more because of it.

“I truly don’t know why I haven’t killed them yet,” Daenerys mutters, running gentle fingers through the tangled locks of your hair. Violet eyes staring up at the ceiling of your shared bedchamber. “It’d be so easy then I could simply appoint a new Warden of the North that wouldn’t annoy me so.”

Huffing out a laugh, you rest your chin on Daenerys’ clavicle, staring at her with soft eyes, despite the topic at hand, and press a light kiss to the patch of the skin that was easily available. It was later, hours after the dinner had ended, with the moon hanging high in the sky, but, despite the weight of the day bearing down upon your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel like you were floating; here, in this bed, with your darling dragon, tangled naked in the rumpled sheets of your marital bed.

“Because you don’t wish to deal with the hassle such an action will cause, beloved,” you reply, knowing that Daenerys would appreciate your insight. “You’ve already dealt with two wars in this infernal landscape as it is. There’s no reason to fight another so soon. Not so early into your reign.”

Tendrils of your hair curl around pale fingers, a soft look etched upon her face; an expression that Daenerys only leveled at you and Drogon. “So much knowledge hidden behind such a beautiful face.” She strokes your cheek, love speaking through every action and echoed in the look upon your own face. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, which is exactly why I wish to deal with those blasted mutts.” Her arm tightens around your naked form. “I don’t trust them, and I know they don’t trust me, nor do I think they’ll just let things go. They have a personal vendetta against me and I fear they’ll use you to rectify it.”

You nuzzle closer, comforted by your Khaleesi’s sweet scent. “We don’t know what the future may bring.” Some more than others. “But, I have hope that I’ll be protected.”

What was meant as a soothing gesture, an affirmation that Daenerys would always be able to keep you safe, seemed to have the complete opposite effect. Her pliable body going stiff against your own, hand halting its comforting movement, a sharpness entering her gaze.

“Dany?” You question, rising up onto your forearms to peer down at her. The silence settling over you like a thick blanket, a brooding entity that meant she was deep in thought, an elegant brow furrowed as she tried to corral her rampant thoughts. “What’s the matter?”

Finally, after another beat of tense silence, her eyes slip to meet your own. “Do you feel that confident with your security detail, ñuha perzys?”

“Yes?” Not understanding where this line of questioning was coming from you couldn’t help the slight lilt at the end of your answer. “Of course, I do.”

A stormy look falls across your wife’s face. “Really?” She straightens to lean against her pillow, now peering down at you. “You feel so confident when those very people almost got you killed by random mercenaries? I find that hard to believe.”

“I thought we went over this when it happened, Dany,” you sigh, finally sitting up to be on a more level field. Knowing now that you weren’t going to go back to snuggling anytime soon. “The two responsible for the oversight were dealt with, by your own hand if you recall, and the rest have more than made up for it. They won’t fail me or you again.”

“It was dealt with so swiftly due to my Captain straightening it out,” Daenerys snipes, arms crossed over her naked chest, the thin sheet having fallen around her hips sometime ago. “I don’t even want to imagine what those fools would have done without him.”

A small smile curls your lips. “Yes,” you agree. “Grey Worm did an excellent job at handling the situation. I’m thankful for his help and continued support.”

Your wife’s cheek twitches due to force in which she’s clenching her jaw, a sight that causes worry to bubble within your chest. Something had obviously set her off, but you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure it out. Leaning forward, you gently take Daenerys’ hand, releasing her white-knuckled grip on the sheet, and cradle it.

“But,” you continue, ensuring you maintained eye contact. “If it wasn’t for you, my darling dragon, I know that I would have been lost long ago. You’ve saved me from so much, Dany. You’re my constant protector, my most treasured companion, and my loving wife. I could never ask for, nor want, anyone else by my side, and I’m so thankful that I get to call you mine.”

The tender words, coupled by the unwavering sincerity in your voice, finally causes Daenerys to slacken, violet eyes going soft as a hint of embarrassment reddens her cheeks. Slim hands soon finding their way around your waist to pull you back into her embrace, head nestled in the crook of her neck, as she seems to simply breathe you in.

“I’m sorry, darling.” Warm breath ghosts across your skin, a phantom touch that raises the fine hairs on your arms. “I think the long days, coupled with being around boastful imbeciles constantly, has muddled my mind more than I would like.” Long fingers curl underneath your chin, tilting your head back just enough so you could see the beginnings of a smile curling full lips. “Even getting to the point where I thought you were hiding something from me.” Daenerys huffs out a laugh, clearly perplexed at herself, even as you feel your blood freeze in your veins. “And do you want to know the funniest thing?”

Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, a suddenly dry throat trying desperately to make any sort of sound. “W-What?”

“I believed Grey Worm was in on it.” Daenerys rolls her eyes, scoffing. “I couldn’t help but notice how attentive he’s been of you as of late. Always being one step behind you at all times.” Lean arms, that hide a strength few were ever privy to, flex around your body, pulling you closer. “Can you believe I thought something was going on between you?”

Laughter bubbles in your throat at the outlandish insinuation — you could never want, or ask for, anyone else — but the strain around your eyes, as you desperately tried to keep it together, was apparent, but Daenerys, lost in her own thoughts, obviously trying to come to terms with how she could come to such a conclusion, didn’t notice.

You weren’t sure if that fact was fortunate or not.

Soon Daenerys, curled protectively around you, falls asleep, after a final whispered apology, her gentle breathing a soothing melody that you have grown to adore over the years you’ve spent in her bed. Normally, you’d be quick to follow your Khaleesi into the land of dreams, but her words, the thinly veiled accusations, the quickly shifted in self-deprecating jokes, kept the lull of oblivion from claiming your mind.

The very notion that you’d ever cheat on Daenerys was laughable — something that would never cross your mind, an annoying gnat that you simply swatted away without a second glance — but the knowledge that she believed you wouldn’t keep something from her unsettled you. Of course, you knew you had good reasoning behind your decision, but it still stung all the same; feeling like you were betraying your wife somehow.

Your wife didn’t have faith in many people — the ones she used to were either dead, imprisoned, or gone from her life in some other fashion — which left only a small handful left: Drogon, Grey Worm, and yourself.

The Summit will be over in three days. You just have to hold out for three more days.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force the thoughts, and the feelings they invoke, from your mind as you nuzzle closer to your wife; heart aching when she instantly brings you closer in response.

Just three more days, my love, you think, pressing closer. Three more days and then I can tell you the news that we’ve both been so desperate for. Just three more days…

It never seemed like such a large amount of time before.

Guilt, you learn, did not go well with pregnancy.

You weren’t able to be around Daenerys for long after that night — knowing what you did and what you were keeping from her — which was something that could easily be explained due to how hectic the daily life usually was in King’s Landing; now multiplied even further due to the Summit. Feigning different duties around the castle was simple, even if you missed your wife terribly during the long hours apart, that ache was easier to handle then the one that erupted every time you looked into her soft gaze.

The guilt, coupled with your own growing symptoms of your condition, caused your stomach to twist constantly, ensuring that you spent a large portion of the day keeled over a bucket with Grey Worm standing watch.

Of course, after the first day, when you only greeted Daenerys with a fleeting kiss to the cheek, and an airy greeting mixed soon after with a brief farewell, your wife began to grow concerned, her gaze often seeking you out within the crowded room of nobles and dignitaries. Uncaring of anyone that may be trying to talk to her, her attention focused solely on you alone, something you wouldn’t normally mind, except for the simple fact that you’d sing like a canary if she leveled you with inquisitive look one more time.

You hadn’t come this far to mess up on the last day of the Summit; the final meeting being hosted in the Dragon Pit, recently reconstructed to an echo of its former glory. Although your darling son refused to even grace the structure with his presence unless it was to deliver you and Daenerys.

“Are you feeling well, Your Grace?” The familiar presence settled a half-step behind you, his accented voice a relief over the miasma of varying conversations that were occurring as people prepared to head over to the Dragon Pit. “Do you require anything?”

“No,” you reply, side-stepping an obviously over encumbered stable hand, as you spot the hulking obsidian mass that was Drogon; the people unfortunate enough to have left their things where he decided to land were scuttling around him like frantic ants, his own expression one of boredom if it was ever possible for a reptilian face to showcase such an emotion. “I’ll be fine for now. Thank you, Grey.”

At the sound of your approaching voice, Drogon swings his head in your direction, crimson eyes lighting up in recognition, as a gentle croon rumbles from deep within his chest. The people around him pause their activities, afraid that he may lunge any second, but your son didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, he lowered his head to give you easy access to scratch the underside of his chin, pebbled scales warm against your cool fingers.

“I’ve missed you too.” You smooth your hand out against his jaw, an adoring smile on your face. “Need to make sure that I carve out more time to see you in the future.”

You can’t even begin to imagine how lonely he must feel — what was once three was now only one — if the ache in your chest was anything to go by it must be difficult; something you didn’t wish for your son to go through alone.

A son, you quickly notice, that was now pressing his snout against your stomach, a low rumble sounding from deep within his throat, not unlike the croon he released earlier, but this, coupled with the protective glint in his fiery gaze, made you understand, with perfect clarity, that Drogon knew. That he had no doubt about the life you were now carrying.

“I know that you and your mama have this special connection,” you whisper, scratching his jaw. “Like the one that I shared with Viserion, but you can’t give her any hints about what you’ve discovered.” Crimson eyes flicker in understanding, his intelligence shining through. “Do you think you’ll be able to hold your protective instincts back for the day, Drogon?”

You knew, even as you asked, that it would be like asking Daenerys the same exact thing. Something that causes your stomach to twist once more. You could play off Grey Worm’s presence and increased vigilance, as he had been appointed to your guard until competent ones were found, but Drogon? Your wife would instantly be able to tell that something was happening, and it probably wouldn’t take her any time at all to discover what it was.

Which meant that you wouldn’t be able to fly with Daenerys to the Dragon Pit; something you had been looking forward to as it’d give you a chance to be with your wife, soaring over the city she had claimed, and may cause the growing suspicion to die within her gaze.

“Ready to go, ñuha perzys?” Daenerys’ lovely voice causes you to startle, wide eyes meeting her questioning one. “I believe we’ll be able to do a few laps around King’s Landing before the first people arrive at the Dragon Pit.” A charming smile catches your wife’s lips. “Giving us a chance to spend time with one another. I’ve missed you the last few days.”

The genuine statement causes your heart to twist, your stomach lurching, but you maintain your smile, hoping that you didn’t look as faint as you felt. “I was actually thinking of taking Nox.” You gesture to the dark stallion, his large stature easily seen over the fences of his stable. “Grey Worm has been meaning to show me something, and it’s on the way to the Dragon Pit, so I thought I’d just do both at once.”

While the genial smile doesn’t fall from Daenerys’ lips, the fire behind her eyes grows with intensity until it’s almost scalding across your skin. “Grey Worm?” At the mention of his name from his Queen’s mouth, the aforementioned man steps from his place in the shadows. Forever dutiful, even if it meant walking straight into the gaping maw of a dragon. “You wish to go with Grey Worm instead of me?”

Any other time the incredulous tone within your wife’s voice, causing it to turn almost shrill, would have made you chuckle, but you could see the darkness that was beginning to become apparent — one that had a propensity to turn lethal if it wasn’t dealt with appropriately — and you wanted nothing more than to chase those shadows away; to bring your wife back into the light.

Just a few more hours, you try to soothe yourself. Just a few more hours and this will all be behind you. You’ll be able to tell Dany and everything will right itself.

“Yes,” you reply, maintaining an air of obliviousness in hopes that Daenerys wouldn’t press the issue further. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to let Nox stretch his legs for some time now. You know how Dothraki horses can be, Dany. They’ll only get more irritable the longer they’re cooped up.”

Violet eyes shift from you, to Grey Worm, all the way to the aforementioned stallion across the courtyard, until they land back on you; the expression on her face made you glad that this would be the last day of the Summit, because you know that Daenerys was at the end of her patience, that she wouldn’t let you get away with this one. For now, as the sounds of various voices finally broke in through the haze of everything untold, and Daenerys allows herself to shift back into her queenly stature.

Even though, you knew, that it’d only take one more thing for the bow to break, and then nothing would keep her from finding the answers she’s seeking.

“Very well.” Her tone clipped, detached in a way that stings your heart, Daenerys easily mounts Drogon and stares down at you. “I hope that your journey to the Dragon Pit is fruitful, but do be prepared for the discussions that’ll take place once we return to the Keep.”

And, with those parting words, and one last gentle nudge from Drogon, Daenerys is in the air, soaring higher into the sky until she breaches the clouds. You wish, more than anything, you were with her and your son, but you know that this was the right course of action. Even if it felt like it was the absolute worst.

Grey Worm settles beside you. “I wasn’t aware there would be more talks after the meeting held at the Dragon Pit.”

“There isn’t.” Your stomach twists, meeting concerned brown eyes with a grim expression. “That was a direct summons for me, and only me, by my darling wife.”

The heavy doors of your bedchamber close with a sharp bang behind you, a sound that almost causes you to flinch if it wasn’t for the woman watching you from across the room garnering all of your attention instantly. Daenerys had already changed out of her court attire — wearing a simple dress instead of the black ensemble she had been wearing, the very one she had worn upon conquering King’s Landing — but she looked anything but relaxed.

“You’ve been avoiding me, dearest.” It’s not a question, simply a statement of fact, as Daenerys stalks towards you. “And I’ve been trying to figure out why. Why would my darling wife not wish to be in my presence? Why would my most cherished companion not wish to see me?” She’s closer now, close enough for you to see the rage that’s beginning to build in her slim form. “And do you know what I uncovered? The only possible reason I could come up with?”

You’re not going to like this. “What?”

“Guilt,” Daenerys snarls, lips pulling into a sneer. It’s clear she was trying to rein herself in, that her famous temper wished to unleash itself, but, even now, when she was at her breaking point, she’d never wish to turn it on you. Something that both breaks and reassembled your heart. “You’re guilty about something. To the point that you practically reek with it now. Of course, I truly don’t know what you could feel guilty about, until I remembered the conversation we had a few nights ago.”

Oh no…

She’s pacing in front of you now, a short line that doesn’t take her too far from you, but gave enough room to excise some of the energy bubbling within her. “A conversation wherein I explicitly told you that I believed you and Grey Worm were hiding something from me. Where you told me that I didn’t have to worry.” The sharpness in her tone, the accusation within her eyes, were like physical blows. “So, I truly don’t know what to believe. Should I believe my wife, who’s been pulling away from me, or should I believe my gut instinct and deal with the problem immediately?”

Your eyes snap to look at Daenerys, horror-stricken. “Deal with the problem? What in the Seven Hells do you mean by the that, Daenerys?” Stepping closer to your wife, when she doesn’t answer immediately, you can’t help the desperate lilt from entering your voice. “What have you done to Grey Worm? Did you do something to him? Answer me!”

“Begging for your lovers life already?” Anger twists her face, shrouding the deep love you know she has for you. “I haven’t done anything, but make no mistake that it means I won’t. I’m going to make that man remember that when you swear fealty to House Targaryen it’s for life, and there isn’t any room for dissenters.”

Lover?

An even more horrific realization strikes you like an arrow to the chest.

“You think he’s my lover?” Barring the complications that would already bring due to the environment Grey was raised in, you couldn’t even begin to comprehend him in that manner. Nor could you ever imagine wanting anyone else beside your wife. “No, Dany, no.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and move to settle on the end of your bed. This wasn’t how you wanted to tell her — over a nice dinner, after a nice ride on Drogon, or simply curled up together in this very bed — but you had created this situation and now you had to go with where it’s led you. Looking up, taking note that Daenerys had trailed after you, a gentle smile curls your lips and you beckon your wife closer.

“Grey Worm isn’t my lover, Dany. Nor will he ever be. I know that things have been tense these last few days, but I never wish for you to think that I’d ever be unfaithful to you.” Taking her hand, you tug her pliant body closer, even if you could still see the tension within the rigidity of her shoulders. “You are, and will forever be, my first, my last, and my always.” You place a tender kiss to her clothed abdomen, leaning into her comforting warmth. “Why would I ever want anyone else when I have my Khaleesi?”

Slender fingers run through your hair, the familiar motion allowing your eyes to slip shut contentment. “Then what has been going on, ñuha perzys? You haven’t been yourself and I still have half a mind to take Grey Worm to the dungeons to get him to answer me.”

Looking up, resting your chin on her abdomen, you peer into the violet gaze that you adore. “You’re not going to do anything to Grey Worm, Daenerys. He hasn’t done anything except be a good friend to me and faithfully serve me to the best of his ability.” Standing up, you easily maneuver Daenerys to settle in the position you had just been in, now looking down at your beautiful wife. “Which is something you’ve desperately wanted for me, if I recall.”

“Not if it means that I’m kept in the dark about you.”

The petulant pout causes a tender expression to fall across your features, love and adoration sparking within your heart, as you look at the woman that could turn the world to ash in an instant melting into your gentle touch. And, in that moment, you knew it was time.

So, without preamble, you take one of her hands and gently place it on your abdomen in return. “I didn’t wish to tell you until the Summit was over because it was too important to screw up, and I’m well aware how you get when my health is involved.” Your fingers ghost across her sharp jawline, watching as the beginning of her understanding begins to spark within her gaze. “Add our unborn child’s health too? The Summit would have ended like a Dothraki Wedding if you had your way, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

There’s a beat of silence wherein Daenerys digests the news, a multitude of emotions flickering across her face, before complete and utter jubilation takes its prominent spot.

“You’re pregnant?” Her hand presses gently against the spot you had placed it, wanting to get closer to the life that lay within. “We’re going to be parents?”

You grin. “We’re having a baby, Dany.”

Before you know it, you’re wrapped in the tightest embrace Daenerys had ever given you, happy tears staining the skin of your neck as she nuzzles closer. You’re well aware that she was going to have a talk with you about your secrecy at a later date, especially given the fact that Grey Worm knew before her, but, for now, she was content in simply holding you in her arms, the both of you sharing in the happiness the moment brought.

“Drogon won’t be alone anymore.” Violet eyes look down at your abdomen with utmost affection. “He’ll finally have a sibling again.”

You press your forehead against hers. “The dragons will be returning to Westeros, my Khaleesi, and the skies will once again be filled with dragon song.”

“And everyone will know the power of House Targaryen.”

“Yes,” you murmur, pressing your lips to hers in a chaste embrace. “As well as the woman who leads them.”

“The women,” Daenerys gently corrects. “For I’d still be lost if I didn’t have my darling Queen by my side.”

“And I’d never know that I was cold without the gentle flame of your love keeping me warm.” You lean into her touch, pressing your bodies firmly together. “You brought me to life, Dany, and I’ll never take the love you’ve given me for granted.”

Daenerys smiles. “Together we will bring back what has been stolen from my family, we will right the wrongs that have plagued this land, and we’ll ensure that our children will be able to reap the benefits once we’re done.” She smooths her hand across your abdomen. “Even if it means Fire and Blood will be paid in penance to make it happen.”

“Together.”

For one couldn’t be without the other — the Khaleesi and her Queen — as it always should be.

[strang3lov3]

Asleep

Roman can't sleep, so he fucks you to tire himself out. 2.6k Tags - it's a mixed bag today, guys. stepdaddy!roman, smut, somno kink, unprotected piv, roman roy jerking off, daddy kink, blowjobs, dirty talk, cunnilingus, creampie, comeplay, masturbation, does roman roy want to be your father or fuck you, both, general fucked up-ness, biting, bruising, alcoholic mom mentions, roman roy getting a little emotional and teary-eyed, mentions of roman's balls for that one anon who knows who they are A/N - howdy!! it's been a while since we've heard from stepdaddy but i've been on a somno kick and well, here we are. I planned for a stepdaddy somno fic to come later but I’ve outlined the rest of the series so…whoops. Anywho, i missed this weirdo so much and i hope you enjoy ♡ love ya love ya. Also this is like loosely proofread so if you see glaring issues, let a girl know 💀

Stepdaddy!Roman Masterlist

It’s so cold. You’re not sure what it is about your room in particular, but when it gets cold out, your bedroom seems to take the hardest hit. Roman won’t let you keep a space heater in there, citing your inability to ever blow out your scented candles or turn off your heat tools for your hair. He doesn’t trust you to not accidentally start a fire in his house. 

You cup your palms and bring them to your mouth, then blow hot air into the little space you create with your hands. It helps momentarily, but your toes are still numb. 

Sliding out of bed, you tiptoe out of your room and into the dark hallway. Next to your mother’s and Roman’s shared bedroom is a guest room, which is where Roman sleeps. Your mom spends a lot of nights on the couch, but sometimes she comes to bed and wakes Roman up in doing so, who already has a difficult time staying asleep. It’s just easier for him to have his own space, for a multitude of reasons. 

After opening the guest bedroom door, you find Roman sleeping on his side, moonlight casting a gentle glow on his pale skin. As you approach him, you see better his toned biceps, his soft and slim middle, how that curve deepens between his ribcage and his hips. The difference in width between his forearm and his wrist. Roman’s such a beautiful man. 

Carefully, quietly, you slip under his covers and inch yourself closer to him on the sheets until your tummy is pressed against his back. You wriggle your arms underneath his and tuck your feet between his legs, then squeeze him tight. Roman’s body heat soothes you immediately as you press your cheek against his bare shoulder. 

Reprieve is only momentary. A split second, maximum. Roman jolts awake, hissing at the feeling of your cold hands and feet on his warm body. He’s groggy and confused, and pushes you away frantically. He knows it’s you when you cuddle up to him again and he can smell you as you wrap your body around him once more. “Jesus Christ, kid. You’re fucking freezing, get away from me.”

“So cold,” you mumble, nuzzling closer to him. Roman’s on his back now, and you’re resting your head on his chest. You’d crawl inside his skin if you could. 

“It’s rude to invite yourself into people’s beds, do you know that? Or did you miss that memo.”

“Mhm, I missed that one,” you yawn. 

Roman chuckles. It’s sort of nice being woken up like this, by you, despite how unpleasant your cold extremities feel. Roman’s heart swells in his chest as he pulls you a little closer, pressing his nose against your hair. “C’mere and fucking give me these,” he huffs, taking your hands in both of his as he rubs them gently. “Before you give me frostbite.”

“I’m surprised it bothers you this much.” You wiggle your feet, rubbing them up and down on Roman’s legs to generate some friction. “I figured you’re so cold and heartless on the inside that you wouldn’t even notice.”

“Mm. That’s clever.”

Once Roman warms your hands enough, he lets them go and you wrap your arms around him again. Hands tucked under his torso, your head rising and falling a little with each of his rhythmic breaths. You’re curled up like a cat, soaking up all of him at this moment. The faint smell of his cologne and sweat, his warm breath on your skin. How soft he is. He’s tugged up your sleep shirt a bit, and his long fingers are now gently scratching up and down your back, soothing you right to sleep. 

“This is all I am to you, huh? Just a fuckin’...human radiator-pillow hybrid thing.”

“Mhm,” you answer on autopilot, farther from conscious than unconscious. Roman can hear in the way you’re breathing that you’re dead to the world. He chuckles again, smiling as he looks down at your sleeping form. He kisses your nose and your forehead, then traces your facial features with his free hand, smirking at how your nose crinkles and your brows knit together. Your pouty lips. If you were awake, you’d call him an asshole for tickling you. 

Roman puts two fingers on your chin, tilting your head back so he can kiss your lips. “Goodnight, baby girl.”

He just watches you. Watches and admires. He’ll go back to sleep in a few minutes, but for now, Roman savors the quiet, peaceful moment. You’re so limp, but clinging to him almost desperately. Roman knows it to be true by now, that you need him. Because you’re letting yourself need him, just like you used to. And inversely, Roman loves to feel needed by you. He feels valuable, he feels protective, masculine as he wraps his arms tighter around you. His arms are so much stronger when he uses them to hug you tight. 

It’s been a long, long time since you’ve slept with him like this. Curled around his body, limbs entangled. It used to be a somewhat regular occurrence. 

It started out when Roman would be going to bed, and as he walked past your bedroom he’d hear you whimpering and making other noises of distress. He’d let himself into your room to stop you from tossing and turning and thrashing, and then would hold you close as you babbled incoherently about your nightmare until you fell back asleep. Roman wonders if you remember that at all. It’s not like it was talked about.  

And there’d be moments similar when you were younger, you’d have a fight with your mom that’d leave you in tears. Awful, screaming fights, that even scared Roman a little. He’d listen to it happen, safe from a different floor or separated by doors and drywall. How scared you must’ve been. Your mom would be drunk and belligerent, aggressive. When you left, she’d follow. 

Roman always, always felt guilt for never sticking up for you. He carries that guilt even now. But when the screaming would end, and you’d tiptoe into your bedroom and cry alone, Roman would follow. He’d hold you close as you choked on your sobs, petting your hair. “You’re safe, you’re okay, kiddo. It’s just me and you,” he’d whisper, holding your trembling hand while he rubbed your palm with his thumb, pressing it into that little pad between your thumb and forefinger to try and soothe you. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. 

Pressure builds up behind Roman’s eyes as he recounts the memory, tears beginning to spill down his cheeks. “Jesus, fuck,” he whispers, wiping them away before they roll down his jaw and onto your forehead. He’s not gonna think about it anymore. He’s gonna go to sleep, holding you close and tight.

-

Hours have since passed. Maybe Roman’s gotten some sleep, but it’s hard to tell. Nothing real, at least. He lies awake, his skin damp from sweat. For someone so cold, you sure don’t absorb warmth very well. You seem to just insulate Roman’s own body heat. Roman scoots away from you to get some space, just a little, but you follow, and drape your thigh across his lap. As you move to get comfortable, you rub Roman’s crotch, his cock hardening in his boxer briefs. 

“Oh, gr- that’s great. Fucking fantastic,” Roman whispers, moving your thigh off of his body. It’s was only seconds and already he’s rock hard, all thanks to you. He presses his palm against his bulge in search of relief, but it only worsens the sensation. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…” 

Roman slips his hand beneath his briefs and pulls out his leaking cock, then spits in his palm and wraps his fingers around his length. He turns his head so that he can see you lying on your side, and hikes up your shirt, exposing your nude body. You’re not wearing any panties.

Roman watches you as he begins sliding his palm up and down, squeezing his fist tighter. Roman bites his lip as he thinks of you, thinks of being inside you. Fucking his hand is a means to an end, if only he could fuck you instead. Your mouth. Your cunt. 

Roman slides his thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting the wet, sticky precum that sits upon his slit as he fucks his fist. He breathes shakily and quietly as he works himself, a little moan slipping out here and there. With Roman’s other hand, he reaches into his briefs and cups his balls, squeezing them gently as he pumps his cock. “Look what you fuckin’ - God, you suck,” Roman grunts, then spits in his hand again. 

You pout, brows pinched together in annoyance as you grumble in your sleep. 

“Shh- be quiet. Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Roman hushes you. He’s gotten a little carried away, and that’s what disturbed your slumber. Roman takes a deep breath and slows down, taking his time as he pumps his fist. It seems that the gentle, rhythmic shaking of the bed as Roman fucks himself rocks you back to a deep sleep. How fucking twisted…

…Yet it makes Roman harder all the same. And he tries, but his fist isn’t cutting it. Roman bends forward to tug his briefs off all the way, tossing them on the ground, then carefully shifts on the bed so that he’s kneeling right by your head. He adjusts you on the pillow, tilting your face just a little so that he can fit the head of his cock between your lips. “You gonna let daddy fuck that pretty mouth? Hm, baby girl?” 

Roman inches his cock into your mouth little by little. 

“You’re sleeping. And in my bed,” he adds. “So it’s not like you have much of a choice, do you?” 

With that, Roman buries his cock in your mouth, sliding it towards the back of your throat. You accept the intrusion so gracefully and with such ease, but a small part of Roman wishes he could watch your eyes widen as you choke on his cock, feel you gag and sputter on him. Roman will just have to make a mess of you himself. 

He pulls himself out of your mouth, his shaft soaked in your saliva and glistening under the soft glow of the moonlight peeking in through the window. He taps your cheek with the tip of his cock, dragging it from cheek to cheek, across your lips. He pushes it back inside, burying himself all the way so that his balls rest against your skin. Roman draws his hips back and forth, fist tangled in your hair as he fucks your mouth gently.  

But it’s not enough. 

He misses the warmth of your body, the feeling of your skin against his. Roman pulls out of your mouth and gently shifts you onto your back, then backs down the bed. He spreads your legs wide and fuck, he can fucking smell you. That sweet, musky arousal between your thighs, that scent Roman’s committed to memory and yet, nothing compares to experiencing it in the present moment. He pushes your knees back toward your chest slowly, little by little, until you’re laid out like a platter for him. You’d be so shy if you were awake right now, fighting against Roman to close your legs. It turns Roman on more, knowing that you have no say in how he sees you, how he fucks you. “I can do fucking whatever I want to you, huh?” he breathes, bending down so he can kiss your inner thighs. “Whatever I want. And you don’t know a thing.” 

He kisses your asshole, rimming the tight muscle with his tongue before dipping it inside, pulling it out again so he can kiss his way up your cunt. He nips and sucks at your slick folds, your arousal soaking his face. When his lips attach to your clit and he sucks in just the way he knows that makes you squirm in discomfort, tugging at his hair as you push and pull away from him. You breathe heavily, panting and whimpering in your sleep. “Yeah, you don’t like it when daddy kisses you like that when you’re awake,” he murmurs. “Sensitive fucking thing.” 

Roman licks you a while longer, tracing the beautiful shape of your pussy with his tongue. He presses his nose against your clit, rubbing it around in slow circles. With his fingers, Roman traces your lips, toying with your damp curls. He loves the way your pubic hair tickles his face, the softness of it when you let it grow out a little longer. 

After eating his fill, Roman kisses his way up your torso, taking care to lick and tease your nipples. He slots himself between your thighs, his face buried in your neck as he notches his tip inside your slick entrance. And with one slow slide, he fills you. You’re so fucking warm and wet and pliant, taking him so well. Roman braces himself with one hand above you, the other on your hip as he squeezes the flesh there. “You’re so nice to me when you’re sleeping,” he whispers. “Oh, fuck. You’re so good.” 

Roman sets a pace, softly biting your skin as he rolls his hips into you. Each of his thrusts, every rock of his hips into your warm, wet, cunt has him biting into you harder, bruising you. He kisses your lips as he fucks you, relishing in their softness. 

“Rome,” you whimper, voice thick with sleep. 

“Shh, you’re okay, kiddo” he breathes in between kisses, “Daddy’s here. It’s just me and you. I’m right here.” 

Roman keeps kissing you, leaving your lips a swollen mess as he buries himself over and over inside you. “Fuck - I love, oh, fuck.”

Roman savors the feeling of you beneath him like this, the specific warmth of your body, your skin and his skin together. Roman’s thrusting builds quicker, rolling his hips a little more frantically while still maintaining that gentleness needed to keep you asleep. The pressure’s building in his balls and deep in his gut, his cock achingly hard and rigid. He pulls you flush against himself as he finishes, moaning while painting your insides as he milks himself inside of you, his muscles tensing and relaxing. Roman lets himself fall limp on top of you, his cock still inside you pulsing with every beat of his heart. He commits all of it - all of this - to memory. The private, secret pleasure of being the only one with knowledge of this moment. When Roman’s ready, he pulls out of you, his spend dripping from your hole and onto his bedsheets. He kisses you one last time before settling next to you, pushing you onto your side so he can curl his body around yours. 

When you wake in the morning, Roman’s gone. There’s a faint smell of coffee in the air but it’s quiet, and you can assume Roman’s already left for work. You’re a dripping mess, likely from the dream you had. You don’t remember much - just sensations, the sound of panting, the feeling of pleasure between your thighs and the occasional picture of Roman. You spread your legs and reach for your cunt, tracing your folds. There’s a slight pain there, a feeling of sensitivity. Maybe you were grinding against Roman in your sleep. You waste no time, circling your clit with precision as you pump your own fingers inside your pussy, unknowingly fucking Roman’s come back into yourself as you come once, twice, three times. 

In your bathroom, you turn on your shower. You take off your shirt and in the mirror, catch a glimpse of darkened, damaged skin on your shoulder. You trace the curved mark, the bruise tender under your fingertips. 

-

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[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Zayne: I Knead You | SFW

This was just a quick writing warm up, because I was playing the event (has no spoilers in here) and I just...give Zayne a pet cat. He deserves one. The title is from a song my friend shared with me when I was trying to come up with what to call this.

(Also sorry if there's typos, they're paid actors)

❧ Pairings: Zayne x Reader ❧ Warnings: None ❧ Synopsis: You come home, and you brought home a new addition to your little family with Zayne. ❧ Word Count: 1.3k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

I Knead You

It wasn’t often that Zayne found himself getting concerned by something you did. For the most part, he was used to your antics. You would always do something to keep him on his toes, and it brought a sense of excitement to his life. Today, however, was bringing more concern than any other emotion.

It was as though the moment he said, “Welcome back,” he found himself regretting it. Watching as you walked backward into the home with something in your hands made him wonder what you did. The way your shoulders had also tensed up wasn’t doing much, and then the gentle ‘meow’ from your arms solidified in his head, which is precisely why you had come home so late today.

“What’s in your hands?” Zayne said with a sigh, already knowing the answer but needing you to confirm it.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to be mad.” You said, not turning around just yet. You were facing away from him with the creature firmly pressed against your chest as if trying to keep it calm and quiet.

“I won’t get bad, but I make no promises on being disappointed in your actions.” He said, a ghost of a smile already on his lips. You were acting like a child right now who did something they definitely weren’t supposed to do. You were aware of this as well, but you honestly had a feeling if you had straight up asked him to do this, he’d say no. If he had seen it in your arms already, the chances of keeping the creature would have been higher.

In truth, you had already spoken to Yvonne about the situation, and she claimed she had been thinking about getting a cat. You had asked her if Zayne says no to keep it and if she’d be willing to. Of course, she said yes, excited about the prospect, and if Zayne happened to be fine with keeping a new pet, then she’d just go out and get her own, and you would set up kitty play dates.

“Okay, see, I think being disappointed is ten times worse, but I think that’s the best imma get out of you so…” You finally turned around to show Zayne the orange tabby in your arms. The small cat let out a confused ‘mew’ noise as it looked around the nice house. Zayne took a moment to stare and shook his head, letting out a small sigh.

“If you had wanted a cat, we could’ve discussed it.” He said, already standing up from his spot on the couch. He placed his laptop on the coffee table as he got closer to you. The cat in your arms is wriggling a bit at hearing someone and smelling the subtleness of Zayne’s aftershave in the air. It was clear the man had been ready for bed, wearing some pajamas with his hair still slightly damp; he had been waiting for you to come home, “We don’t even have cat supplies.”

“Oh see, that’s where you’re wrong.” You said with a chuckle. Zayne looked confused for a moment as you placed the little fur ball into his arms. The cat immediately began curling into him, nuzzling its face against his chest as if Zayne had always been its owner. “Come, follow.” You said, and Zayne found himself doing just that, following you through his own house to the guest bedroom he had set up.

When you opened the door, he saw a variety of cat supplies: toys, a bed, a few cat trees, treats, and food. Of course, he hadn’t checked the guest room; he never had a reason to, judging by how it was rare for a guest to say the night. It used to be for you, but you had long since evolved in your relationship and now shared the same room.

“What brought this on?” He said he was going to pet the cat. The small tabby began batting at his hand as if he were playing with it, and he found himself going alone, moving a finger around for his paws to tap at it. He was a bit surprised when it didn’t try to use its claws on him, and it even seemed comfortable being in his arms.

“Well…after that photo shoot last month, I just thought…maybe it was time to expand the family.” You said with a subtle blush. You and Zayne weren’t married, not by a long shot, but you acted like a married couple of 20 years most of the time. So, of course, you had thought of the two of you as a small family at this point. Zayne’s eyes widened a bit in surprise before going back to the usual, relaxed demeanor he had around you.

“So this has been on your mind for a while then?” he asked, slowly letting the cat down onto the floor. The small tabby began wandering off into the room, probably to explore some things while you two talked.

“Yes, it has been…so can we keep him?” you asked, and Zayne had a hard time saying no. Thankfully, you hadn’t brought home a puppy, or he’d be turning down the offer so much faster. Cats could be independent for long hours of the day, and if needed, they could set up an automatic feeder for nights when they’d both be coming home late.

“We can…have you named…him?” Zayne asked, unsure as to the gender of the cat. You giggled as you looked at the cat and then back at him.

“Figured if you said yes, we could brainstorm some names together.” You said, grabbing a small name tag that was blank. You’d have to go to the pet store to have it engraved later, but you placed it in his hand. He moved it around like it was a coin and gave you a small, knowing look.

“So you wanted to name our new child together?” the way he said it had your entire face going hot. You cleared your throat as you nodded.

“Yes, after all, he’s our kitty. I chose him specifically for us. He’s perfect in every way.” You began, and then Zayne heard a small thump as the cat ran into the bed frame. The small cat looked at it, using its paws to look over the frame, “It’s a bit quirky. It runs into a lot of things. It actually ran into my leg in the shelter and then the glass window. It was funny, and I loved him.”

“You bought a blind cat,” Zayne said as the realization dawned on him.

“I bought a blind cat. He didn’t like to eat his carrots.” You were trying so hard not to laugh at the statement. While the cat wasn’t fully blind, the person at the shelter did warn you that his eyesight wasn’t very…good.

Zayne was silent for a moment before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. He put his forehead on yours as he looked at you, “Is this a warning about my future?” he asked, a subtle smile on his lips.

“Would you eat carrots if I made it into cake form?” You asked, then jumped slightly, your body pressing into Zayne’s as the cat suddenly began rubbing against your leg. You heard Zayne chuckle as he let you go and opted to scoop the cat back into his arms. The cat seemed to enjoy being held as it immediately relaxed into his grasp, once again nuzzling against him.

“I’m fairly certain carrot cake gets rid of all the nutritional benefits of the actual carrot.” He explained, and you hummed.

“It probably does, but that doesn’t answer my question.” You said, your voice still taking a teasing edge.

“It’s a no from me.”

“Rude.”

If you comment on this fic and leave notes, I ask kindly that you don't discuss Zayne being a father. Pregnancy and children make me uncomfortable.

[loveesiren]

Baby Daddy (Pt. 2)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

A/n: Here's part two! Let me know if you guys want more to this story :)

Warnings: Birth, emergency c-section, language, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

You leaned your head on Rafe's shoulder, his hand rubbing your swollen belly as you were handed yet another gift.

You were grateful for this baby shower that Rose had put together but you couldn't help the fact that you were absolutely exhausted.

You were in no way prepared for how much pregnancy took a toll on your body. Especially in the third trimester.

You held the tiny pink blanket up. The soft fabric was lined with silk and it was absolutely adorable.

"And when you finally tell us her name, we'll get it stitched on there. Along with her birthday." Sarah said with a smile as her and John B watched you examine their gift.

"It's perfect," You say. "And her name will be revealed once she's born." You chuckle.

"I can't believe you're making us wait," John B whines, rolling his eyes.

"She's gonna be here any day now," Rafe smiled, looking down at you. "And this has been great but Y/N really needs to get some rest."

"But there is still more presents!" Rose whines.

"And she will open them later," Rafe scolds. "She's exhausted."

You were practically falling asleep in Rafe's arms.

"Alright, fine," Rose says as she stands up. "For anyone who would like to continue celebrating, join me in the back yard!"

John B and Sarah stay behind, cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper that littered the living room.

"I'm going to take her up to bed," Rafe said as he stood up and pulled you off the couch.

"Rafe, no, too fat." You grumbled as you felt him try to lift you. "I can do it."

"Baby-"

"I can do it!"

John B and Sarah laugh as you fall back on the couch, obviously too tired to move.

Rafe sighs before bending over and scooping you into his arms.

"Rafe, no-"

"Shhhh," He says, picking you up effortlessly. "Uhm, do you guys need me to-"

"Go," Sarah says with a smile. "We got it."

Rafe offers a small smile before carrying you upstairs to the room the two of you shared. Rose had turned the guest room next to Rafe's room into a nursery. The two rooms sat in a part of the house that was mostly cut off from the rest. It was the perfect little corner for the two of you and your baby while you saved up for your own place.

Rafe laid you down on the bed and pulled the covers over the two of you as he crawled in next to you and cradled your belly. "Get some rest, Mama." He said, placing a kiss on your temple.

"Rafe..." You whispered.

"Yes?"

You could feel his fingers trail over your skin. The way he cared for you and was so gentle and excited for your baby, you couldn't wait anymore. You had to tell him.

"I love you." You say as you look up to meet his eyes.

His breath caught in his throat as he registered your words. "W-what?"

You giggled. "I love you, Rafe. You're amazing. And you're going to be an amazing dad. I know we've been doing this whole pregnancy thing in kind of a weird way but I'd kind of like to be a real a fami-"

Rafe pressed his lips to yours, caressing your cheek as he deepened the kiss. "I've been in love with you for so long," He admitted against your lips. "I want all of this. I want us. I want our baby. I want to be a family."

You smiled at his response. He'd changed so much since you found out you were pregnant. He quit coke. He worked hard. He was constantly at your side making sure you had everything you needed. You practically had to pull him off you so you could go check on John B.

You could see his eyes swelling with tears. "What's wrong, baby?" You asked as you cupped his cheek.

"Nothing," He shook his head as a tear fell from his eye. "I just have my dream girl and I get to meet my fucking daughter soon. My life is perfect."

You couldn't help but tear up at his words. You ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder. It wasn't long before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

———-

"AHHHHH!" You screamed as you shot up in bed. "Oh my fucking God!"

"What is it baby?!" Rafe asked eagerly as he quickly flipped on the lamp.

"It fucking hurts!" You spit. "Rafe...Rafe I think I'm contracting." You're barely able to get the words out.

"Oh, fuck. Okay!" He yells as he hops out of bed. He opens the door and yells into the hallway. "Dad! Rose!"

"Fuck, FUCK!" You scream.

"Okay, hold on baby, I have your bag." Rafe runs to his closet and pulls out the bag he had packed for you for when the time finally came. "Rose!" He screams again.

"I'm coming! What is it?" She says as her and Ward enter the room. "Oh, okay!"

Rose is by your side instantly, helping you off the bed.

"Ah! I can't-" You say as you fall to the floor. "I can't walk, it hurts so much."

"I got you baby," Rafe says, once again scooping you into his arms with minimal effort.

"Ward, start the car!" Rose commands as she grabs your bag and you all head downstairs.

Rafe climbs into the back seat with you. You dig your nails into his arm as another contraction invades your body.

"It's okay, sweet girl." Rafe says as he presses his lips to your forehead. "Just breathe with me, okay?" He holds your swollen belly up, relieving some of the pressure so you're able to catch your breath.

You can feel the car speeding to the hospital. You can hear Ward and Rose arguing in the front seat. You can feel Rafe wrapped around you, whispering sweetly into your ear. But you couldn't help the black haze that was washing over your vision as you lost consciousness.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he lightly tapped your cheek. "Y/N, baby, stay with me!"

"We're almost there!" Ward says.

"She's unconscious!" Rafe screams.

_____________

Your eyes fluttered open. It was almost painful to keep your eyelids up.

Large windows lined the room, letting in the sunrise. Purple skies as the sun made it's way into view.

You felt so confused. You placed a hand on your belly. No bump. You instantly shot up, panicking at your missing baby bump you had grown so used to.

"Rafe!" You screamed.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he came out of the bathroom, bouncing a tiny human in his arms. "Calm down baby, I'm here. We're here." He smiles as he sits on the bed next to you.

"Is that...is that my daughter?" You ask, taking in her tiny features. She had Rafe's eyes and your lips. A perfect mix of the two of you.

Rafe smiles, moving to place her in your arms. "You did so good, mama."

You hold her gently, tears filling your eyes as she instantly looked for your nipple. You happily fed her, gushing over the fact she knew you were her mother.

"I-I don't even remember."

"It was complicated," Rafe begins, rubbing one hand over your leg and one over her tiny head. "Emergency c-section. Thought I was gonna lose you. But you were so strong."

You couldn't help but cry. A tear falling on your child's cheek but Rafe brushed it away.

"She's been so fussy until now. She doesn't like the bottle." Rafe chuckles.

"How long have a been out?"

"Two days,"

You shudder, realizing you missed the first two days of your child's life.

Rafe pulls himself up to sit behind you. You lean back against his chest as you continue to feed your child. He runs his fingers up and down your arms and places kisses on your temples.

"I love you so much," He whispers.

"I love you too," You said as you felt yourself drift back to sleep. Rafe brought his arms around you to help hold your baby as she finished nursing.

When you woke up again the sun was setting. Rafe was draped over you, snoring softly. Your daughter in a bassinet beside you, sleeping peacefully.

You heard a knock at the door. Rafe shot up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to process what was going on.

"Hmmm, okay." He said, half asleep as he stumbled towards the door.

You felt bad. You knew he'd been doing all of this on his own while you were out. He needed sleep.

"Hey," Rafe said as your family members piled in. You were grateful for the large room.

Rose and Wheezie carried flowers and gifts, placing them on the dresser by the window. Ward followed behind them.

John B and Sarah came in after them with balloons, setting them to the side as they quickly ran to see your baby.

"Jesus," Rafe grumbled as he laid back down beside you. "M' sorry baby. They wouldn't let anyone but me in until today."

You pet his hair and place a kiss on his head as he rests against your shoulder. "It's okay, babe."

You were wide awake now. Rafe tried his best to sit up and interact but you could tell he wasn't going to last long.

John B held your baby as everyone else crowded around him. She was smiling up at him and it made your heart melt.

"So," Sarah asked. "What's her name?"

You turned to Rafe and smiled. He smiled and rubbed his eyes. "Her name is Juliette Lilith Cameron." He announced.

All the girls gushed over the name. John B smiled down at his niece, bouncing her happily.

Ward came around the side of the bed and placed a hand on Rafe's shoulder. "Congratulations, son. You're going to be a great father."

Rafe smiles at his dads words. "Thanks, dad." He gushes. You can't help but tear up. You knew how much Rafe wanted his dad to be proud of him.

After everyone had a turn holding Juliette, Rafe finally ushered them all out, claiming you and baby needed your rest. But in all honesty, you and Juliette were fine. Rafe was the one that needed a break.

After you nursed Juliette and laid her down to sleep, you and Rafe snuggled in your hospital bed, eating mediocre hospital food and watching Family Feud.

"Can I get you anything, baby?" Rafe mumbled against your shoulder, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Get some sleep, my love." You whisper, placing a kiss on his head.

"Gotta take care of my girls first," He mumbles.

"We're good," You promise him. "We need you to be well rested."

Rafe hums into your skin, wrapping his arm tighter around you but not tight enough to hurt you since you were still healing.

"Love my girls," Was the last thing he said before he drifted off to sleep.

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001

[zablife]

Run From Me Darlin'

Tommy Shelby x female reader (Alfie's wife)

A/N: Taking shelter requested by @thomashelbyswife. Song is "Run from Me" by Timber Timbre. Prompts "I didn't know where else to go." Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Divider credit: @wethairjoel

Warnings: language, mention of infidelity, betrayal Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

The servants at Margate had long since retired when they heard their master's voice echoing throughout the house, along with an eery melody from the ancient piano in the parlor.

"Run from me, darlin' Run, my good wife Run from me, darlin' You better run for your life"

And so you were in that moment, escaping a mad man who had made your life a misery from the moment you said I do. You ran from your seaside home in only your night dress, no possessions or money to your name. It was fear that drove you from him that night as he threatened to kill you.

That's how you found yourself on the doorstep of Tommy Shelby's manor the next morning, your shivering form but a memory of the woman he'd come to know the past five years.

"Y/n, what's happened?" Tommy asked as he ushered you inside and draped a blanket over you.

"I didn't know where else to go," you cried in despair, breaking down the moment you saw his sympathetic sapphire eyes staring back at you.

"You're going to be alright," he assured you, looping a strong arm around your waist for support. "Tell me what he's done," he urged, guiding you to sit on the sofa in his office.

He poured you a drink to steady your nerves and you confided everything. The periods of time you'd been locked in your room because of his suspicions about the two of you, followed by angry and often nonsensical tirades. Your chest heaved with pain and your voice faltered with hiccuped gasps at the horrendous treatment you'd received for over a month.

"How did you manage to escape?" Tommy asked.

"A door left ajar by a new maid," you replied.

Tommy nodded solemnly as he listened, then drained his glass of whisky without answer. He didn't have to because you knew he didn't believe in hurting women, having agreed many times before that his friend's behavior was crossing a line.

As Tommy lightly stroked your hair, you felt compelled to share the threat against him as well, quietly explaining Alfie's plans to crush Shelby Company Limited with his uncle's connection to the opium trade in America. Though you sensed his frustration as his fingers curled into your shoulder, you tried to soften the blow by proposing this as a time of new beginnings. "Run away with me, Tommy," you urged, gazing hopefully into his eyes.

"Leave it to me," he assured, placing a chaste kiss to your temple.

You settled back against him, covering his hand with yours before giving way to exhaustion.

Feeling your body grow heavy with sleep, Tommy called for the housekeeper to look after you. "Frances, take Y/n upstairs and draw a bath," he instructed carefully. "Then prepare the guest room for her. She'll be staying with us tonight."

"Yes, sir," the woman replied, taking you by the hand with such gentle ease, you began to weep.

"Oh, my dear," she gasped as she guided you upstairs. "Don't worry, Mr. Shelby will set it right." And you couldn't help but believe the promise in her voice.

Downstairs Tommy paced his office in agitation before finally tossing his glass against the fireplace in anger. As the shards of glass fell at his feet, he tried not to picture your beatific face crumbling. In fact, he tried not to think of you at all as he raised the receiver to his ear.

"What the fuck do you want?" Alfie grumbled.

Tommy traced the phone cord, thinking of all the times his so-called friend had betrayed him and how fitting it would be to humiliate him by stealing his wife forever. However, the notion of partnering together to control the opium trade abroad was far more enticing.

"How is your uncle in Boston?" he asked.

Alfie huffed out a laugh as he asked, "And why are you so concerned about the state of my family this evening?"

Tommy didn't have to say your name, it was implied the moment he began to negotiate. "You'd exchange my wife for access to Boston, would ya?" Alfie sneered with a knowing grin.

"I would," Tommy answered without hesitation.

And that's how the deal was made late one September afternoon as you soaked in the bath, quite unaware you would be reunited with your husband the following morning.

You had one last peaceful slumber before realizing you'd been sold out, exiting Arrow House kicking and screaming against the men your husband sent to punish you.

"I thought you loved me. How could you do this?" you cried when you glimpsed Tommy's somber face waiting in the drive.

Motioning for the men to let you go, Tommy welcomed you into his open arms as he whispered, "It's not personal, it's business."

You wanted to fight him, but instead you pleaded for your life. "Have mercy," you begged against his lips when he offered one last passionate kiss. A glimmer of promise was restored in that moment as you swore you felt his muscular frame give way into yours. However, you underestimated the strength of his resolve. One look into his icy blue eyes told you, he would never claim you as his own.

"Run," Tommy urged you under his breath, waiting for Alfie's men to give chase.

As he watched you flee toward the open field where he kept his horses, he hoped your swinging gate would prevail. Swallowing hard at the sight of his betrayal, he loathed the man he had become.

"Run for your life," he whispered, knowing it was already too late.

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[greenwitchfromthewoods]

nymph. [part 3] l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  you have been with him for a long time, but he has never seen you. but everything has changed.

Warnings:  fluff, talks about slavery and territorial expansion, mythological figures treated in a simple way

A/N: My dears. I have to admit that I am proud of what I have done so far writing this series. Wow, a series! What was supposed to be just something short has now another chapter and I think there will be a few more. Please forgive me that not much is happening here. I wanted to introduce our characters to a new environment, it took me a while. I hope you will be understanding and gentle with me. Thank you for your wonderful reaction when I announced writing another chapter. It was really encouraging. I send you all my love.

I hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph [masterlist]

Rome was dazzling. All the buildings, temples and roads, palaces and squares were full of its inhabitants. And Marcus, welcomed in this center of the world as equal to the gods. 

The victories he brought with him and laid at the feet of the Emperor, earned him the recognition and love of the people. The empire grew in strength and power, thanks to General Acacius. 

And then there was you. 

Marcus made sure you were transported by his most trusted men to his home. He didn't want you to be in the palace, not yet.

The whispers of envious people, the jealousy and treachery, he didn't want to expose you to that. But there was something else. Something he was afraid of, but he didn't tell you about it.

Marcus was afraid that your appearance among the noble people of Rome from the Emperor's entourage would arouse unwanted interest from him. You could be considered by them as a spoil of war, his private concubine, someone equal to slaves. The thought itself stirred the blood in his veins.

He was calmer and better at playing his role as the Emperor's pet, knowing that you were waiting for him safely in his chambers.

"What troubles you, Acacius? Let me free your head from your worries." The curious voice of Emperor Geta reached his ears.

"It's nothing, my lord." Marcus nodded, his lips twisting into a small smile.

Geta watched him carefully "You're tired, aren't you? All this war, conquering... All men need to rest now, and so do you." He placed a hand on his shoulder and led him through the room filled with guests "I can offer you something that will delight your senses. The highest quality company, beautiful and fresh, with firm breasts..." he laughed quietly.

"You are generous, my lord." Marcus nodded humbly "I would like to be home though. In a bed other than the one I had in the camp."

"Alone?"

He was saved from answering by the music that suddenly started and distracted the Emperor. Soon the man finished his wine and let the guests surround him. The party was in full swing, and Marcus eagerly noticed the dark sky outside the window. The thought that you were alone in his house haunted him.

This place was a mystery to you. Previously, you had spent most of your time in and out of temples, but mortal homes never interested you. You walked barefoot through the rooms, occasionally spotting the servants who were busy preparing to welcome their lord.

The young girl who had been assigned to you dutifully toddled after you, clearly confused by your behavior.

"My lady." she said as you circled the inner garden of the house once again. "My lady, wait. Perhaps I should draw you a bath? You must be tired after such a long journey."

"Bath?" you didn't take your eyes off the stone bust standing against the wall.

"Yes, my lady." the girl approached, clearly pleased that she had caught your attention. "We have prepared a room for you."

You finally looked at her. She was beautiful. Her skin was kissed by the sun, her eyes large and dark, and her brown hair, which she had braided in a simple way, fell down her back.

"What is your name?"

"Melitta, my lady." she curtsied slightly and lowered her gaze. You repeated her name quietly, then gave yours, which made a shy smile appear on her lips. You unexpectedly grabbed her hand. "Lead me, Melitta. I feel like I won't be free from you if I don't take this bath."

"Our lord is kind and gracious to us. Not like some other masters..." Melitta's soft voice surrounded you as her graceful and skillful hands washed your body. The bath was warm and stuffy, filled with the scent of incense and enveloped in the warm light of candles. "His return was long awaited by us."

"Have you been in his house for a long?"

"A few years." she replied quietly. "But I am grateful for every day. General Acacius is..."

"Where are you from?" you interrupted her, you saw the surprise written on her beautiful face.

"What do you mean, my lady?" she asked.

"How did you come to Rome? You are not from here, I can feel it."

Melitta lowered her gaze, reaching for the oils standing on the floor next to her. Although your question didn’t hurt her, she felt awkward.

"My lady, asking a slave something like that is inappropriate." she said quietly as if she wanted to discreetly draw your attention to your lack of manners "It doesn't matter where we're from, now we belong to General Acacius, to Rome."

You turned around so you could look into the girl's face. "For me you are a person. You have a name, a family, roots. Your work, and the work of people like you, create this world."

"But we are still slaves... I mean no more than...than..." she grabbed the bottle with the amber liquid inside "Than that! Not all of us are born free, my lady. Maybe in your world it's easier, but it's only a world of ideas."

You lowered your gaze. Melitta's words echoed in your head, but you knew she was right. 

When you served your mistress, when you accompanied Minerva to her temples, or when you walked step by step behind Marcus - you never thought about how the Empire was built. To you all mortals were the same, too young, fragile, fleeting... Now you were one of them.

"Forgive me, please." You said quietly as Melitta helped you dress in clean, soft clothes. "I didn't mean to hurt you." 

"You didn't hurt me, my lady." She replied. "You noticed me."

It was late when he arrived at his estate. Cicadas were playing loudly in the garden, and the familiar rustle of sandals heralded the arrival of Antigonus, the steward of his house. The older man bowed low.

"General." He bowed low "It's good to see you in good health."

"I'm glad to see you too, Antigonus." Marcus replied, patting the man's shoulder "Is everything alright? How is our guest?"

"Everything has been prepared for your return, my lord. Melitta has taken care of your guest, taking her to her chamber."

The two set off down the dark corridors of the quiet house. "Oh, and she stayed there?" Marcus asked, feeling the corners of his mouth curl up, because he probably already knew the answer.

Antigonus sighed. "Your guest is very..." the man searched for the right word in his head "Curious." he said finally "But she's also beautiful and has a sharp mind. I had a hard time convincing her that she didn't have to help with the little chores in the garden. She seemed concerned."

"I guess. Don't worry, Antigonus. She's different from the ones we know, but she'll steal your heart."

"My lord."

The man noticed with concern that Marcus was heading towards where his bedroom and study were located. This worried him a little.

"If you wish to visit your guest, we've assigned her rooms on the other side of the house." he said.

The glow of the torch illuminated the General's tired face, but a smile was on his lips, "I think I'm where I should be. Good night, Antigonus." he replied and pushed the door open slightly.

The chamber was bathed in warm light, and the long shadow of a familiar figure was reflected on the wall. He noticed movement behind the delicate curtains covering his bed.

Gods, he would give anything to be able to immortalize the sight of you in some way. Every time his eyes looked at you, Marcus felt as if he was experiencing some indescribable miracle or grace. Even though you were already beyond his dream image, he still couldn't believe that a being so beautiful and extraordinary was within his reach.

You sat on his bed dressed in flowing robes that his servants had prepared for you. Around you were maps and other writings, you must have moved them there from his study. A small wrinkle appeared between your eyebrows as you studied carefully what was before you, trying to understand it all.

"This is an unusual sight." he said quietly, and you flinched like a startled doe.

He emerged from the shadows and approached the bed. Your eyes followed his every step, a smile spreading across your lips as he finally stood before you. You sat back on your heels and rose slightly.

"Marcus..." his name flowed from between your lips like the sweetest song of praise.

He stroked your cheek, then leaned down to brush your sweet lips. "I thought I'd find you sleeping, not planning the expansion of your empire. Should I call you general or emperor now?" he said, chuckling.

"Call me whatever you want." You replied, taking his colossal hand in yours and kissing the back of it tenderly. "I saw this on your desk, I couldn't help myself."

"Curiosity can be dangerous, little bird. But tell me, please, what are you looking for there?"

Your gaze wandered back to the maps lying on the white sheets. Numerous lines intersected to form the borders of the country, the letters formed the names of cities and regions, but it meant nothing to you. You only saw that what was marked as the Empire was growing on each successive map.

"What's all this for?" you asked. "Why are you conquering more lands? Why are you killing each other? Our gods can be merciless, but you, humans, can be more terrible than them."

Warm fingers stroked your chin as Marcus considered your words. These thoughts had been haunting his mind for some time now. Did you know him that well?

"The Empire must be strong," he finally answered. "Our victories give it power and authority."

"They also give you new stomachs to fill. Meanwhile, you flood the fields with blood, you don't sow seeds for bread there."

He knew you were right. Gods! Marcus knew that perfectly well. He sat down next to you, and you greedily slid onto his lap. Your closeness gave him solace.

"The empire must grow to exist." You continued. "The beast must devour new victims to grow, and what if it doesn't find them anymore? What if it starts eating its own children?"

A grimace crossed his face. You saw the tiredness in his eyes, you didn't want to add to it, but only he was able to explain to you the world that you were now a part of.

"We have to believe that we are ruled by people who know how to prevent this from happening." He finally said.

"Do you believe in your words, Marcus?"

"I'm trying."

You took his face in your hands and placed your forehead against his. "I wish I could take away all your worries, my love. I wish I could find a better world for us."

He hummed quietly, his hands wandering over your back, sliding under the soft fabric wanting to feel the warmth and delicacy of your body.

"Now you are my world and I will defend it at all costs," he said quietly. 

Your body tensed as your lips collided. It didn't take much force to push him onto the sheets, sharing a precious breath with him. You made love, pushing away from your thoughts everything that cast a shadow over your feelings. 

It wasn't until later, when you were asleep, cuddled up to his side, his body free from the tension of the day, that Marcus still considered your words. The words you had spoken, the words that had filled his mind and heart for so long.

☆☆☆☆

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