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smolvenger · 2 years ago

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This whole. Thing is so. Effing. CUUUUUUUTEEEE!!!!

Loki being so sweet with Reader and letting her nap!?? And falling asleep while looking after the baby when the folks come in!?!?! My heart!!!!

And we love fun uncle Scott!!!!

Royal Visitors

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N feat. baby Narfi & Ella

Summary: Odin and Frigga come to visit the newest member of the family - baby Narfi. But things don't always go by plan, right? Especially not, when Ella comes home with her uncle Scott in tow...

Warnings: fluff, fluff and even more fluff! slight thirst? 👀 baby things and a lot of humour! scott being a dork. 😂

Word Count: 4k

a/n: @fictive-sl0th asked me, if I would write this - and of course I couldn't say no. 🥰 So well... Here you go! I hope you, my wonderful friend and everyone else likes this! 🥰

I'd also like to dedicate this story to @smolvenger . I hope this little, funny fluff piece can conjure a smile on your face. 🫂

Baby Fever Crew: (Let's try 'em tags again! I hope it works! ☺️) @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @eleniblue @vbecker10 @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @lokisninerealms @peaches1958 @multifandom-worlds @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @simping-for-marvel @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lou12346789 @kimanne723 @coldnique @lady-rose-moon @acefeather2002 @aagn360 @mostclevermiss @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @chennqingg @anukulee @lokiforever

Peeps who I think might be interested in this as well: @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @evelyn-kingsley ☺️

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Babe, when are your parents going to be here again?" You asked your husband, while cradling the tiny boy you squeezed out of you a mere week ago in your arms; breastfeeding him. Loki turned to face you; stirring the cup of coffee in his hands. His hair was positively a mess. He was wearing nothing but black boxershorts and a matching black and very stained tank top. The dark shadows underneath his eyes were the result of the lack of sleep he suffered from the past days. Having a newborn again and a six-year-old wasn't easy for him, nor for you. Especially for him, though, because he made sure that you got as much rest as possible; still needing to recover from the not so easy-going birth.

"Umm..." Loki checked the time, "In about... two hours." and took a sip of his coffee. "Alright. I have to get ready then. Take a shower, put on fresh clothes... Probably even brush my teeth..." Loki gave you an incredulous look, before he made his way over to where you sat at the dining table; passing by the kitchen counter. "You can do that, my love, but first..." He reached for the dozed off baby in your arms, "You are going to take a much-needed nap. Unless I'll have to fear that you are going to pass out in the shower - which wouldn't be good." and took tiny Narfi - who had himself curled up in a fetal position, in his strong, muscular arms. "And I am going to look after this little man, yes?"

You blinked; tired brain trying to process his words. "But... But babe... You only just got up from a nap, because Narfi woke you... You need rest, too. After all, you watched him almost the whole night and morning. Plus, you helped Ella getting ready for primary school. I can't ask you to look after him again, while I-" The god had heard enough and successfully shut you up with his lips on yours; kissing you gently. "Darling... This goes without saying. Of course, I am doing this for you. I'm your husband. We are partners. A team... And this little prince here is my son as well. Not just yours. I am his father and I have the responsibility to look after him as well - just like you. But the decisive and important difference is, that you carried him for over six months within your womb; keeping him safe and sound. You birthed him - which was very difficult, nerve-wracking and exhausting. You deserve and need the rest. I can see when the mother of my children needs a break - and I'll not let it happen that you pass out because of exhaustion. So please... Take a nap."

You were stunned. Utterly touched by Loki's words.

Blue eyes looked deeply into yours, while he shifted Narfi, so that he could intertwine a hand with yours. "Please." He added; gently squeezing your hand.

You felt how your emotions got stuck in your throat; eyes becoming teary. "Oh Lokes, I... I don't know what to say, I..." You stood up; moving to wrap both your arms around his waist. "Thank you, baby. I love you so much. You are the best. I couldn't have wished for a better husband and father." The god smiled; kissing you once more. "I love you, too, my goddess. And now off with you. I want to see that pretty ass in our bed now. Get some rest."

While you laid down and slept in only after a few minutes. Sleeping like a log; Loki took care of the newest addition to his family. He carried Narfi around a little longer, to make sure that he stayed asleep, before he laid him down in the crib - which stood inside your shared bedroom. Then he went to the living room and decided to help you out a little more; folding some laundry. Mostly onesies, rompers, bibs and burp cloths. Unfortunately, it was a very... Let's say tiring task, and so the god slept in as well; cuddling the onesie he was about to fold. The cup of coffee he had consumed was not helping him to stay awake; failing - and perhaps it wasn't the best idea of him to cover himself up with a soft, warm and inviting blanket. Therefore, that nobody was awake now and watched the time, two hours flew by within the blink of an eye and it came how it had to come...

The Bifrost opened up in the middle of the living room with a rather loud 'wooosh' - but it didn't bother all sleeping members of the family at all. Everybody was way too tired to care. Even Narfi slept through it.

Odin and Frigga appeared; standing now where the rainbow light once was. They both noticed immediately that it was awfully quiet. No Ella who came running excitedly up to them... No you, who greeted them warmly, nor their son. Not even the coos and cries of a newborn could be heard. Nothing. Just entire silence.

The couple exchanged a look. "No welcoming committee?" Asked the Allfather almost sceptically. "You did tell our son that we would come at this time of the day?" Frigga nodded, "I did, dear." and finally started to look around. It didn't take long for her to find her son - deep asleep on the sofa; snugly wrapped up in a blanket. She smiled, "But perhaps they were victims of a higher power." and tapped her husband's arm gently; making him see. He huffed. "What are we going to do now?" "Let them rest and come back later." Odin shook his head. "Dear wife... As you should know, I am a king. I have a kingdom to rule and duties to follow. I don't have the time - unfortunately," stated the king and approached the sleeping Loki.

"Son. Wake up." No reaction. Odin cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Loki!" It helped. The god ripped his eyes open and literally jumped up. "Yes, Sir, I'm awake, Sir!" He almost shouted; blanket falling around his ankles and the onesie hanging messily over his shoulder - just like his hair. Again. Loki was definitely completely out of it; caused by Odin, who ripped him so 'harshly' and sudden out of his deep slumber.

While Frigga placed a hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling like a maid, who had heard the newest gossip, Odin was rather shocked at his son's messy appearance. Sure, he had a newborn child, but where was his royal behaviour? "Son..." The Allfather started, shaking his head. "What in the nine realms are you wearing?" Loki blinked; was still trying to properly wake up and looked down himself; seeing the stains on his top - which undoubtedly came from Narfi, and that he was basically just in underwear. Oh.

Swallowing hard, he quickly scrambled to get away from the sofa - and the blanket, and snapped his fingers; letting his seidr correct his outfit. "A-Apologies, father, I-" Frigga lifted a hand and placed it on the now black shirt clad chest of Loki; interrupting him. "Don't be, my dear. We understand." She gave him a heartwarming smile, which calmed the god down. "Thank you, mother." Frigga nodded and cupped his cheek for a moment, before she let go.

"Where is your wife and daughter?" Odin questioned Loki then, looking around. "Oh, um, Ella is out with her uncle Scott. He shows her around his father-in-law's superhero suit laboratory and Y/N is sleeping. She's been very exhausted." Loki had no other words to describe his father what his daughter was doing. How should he explain this? The Pym particles? That they were able to shrink you or grow you to the size of Asgard's palace? Right… He couldn't.

Odin frowned; was visibly confused. "What by the holy roots of Yggdrasil…?" Yeah… Exactly, Loki thought. "It's science, father. That's a complicated Midgardian thing." Frigga again just giggled, while Odin huffed, "Such foolery. I'll never understand those Midgardians." and shook his head. "Now, may we move on to the reason why your mother and I made our way here? We wish to see our newest grandchild, don't we?" The Allmother rolled subtly her eyes at her husband's behaviour, but nodded; giving her son a smile.

You and Loki hadn't told his parents yet if you were having a boy or a girl. Both, you and him agreed to keep it a secret and surprise them. Actually, you wanted to do it together, but when Loki saw you sleeping so peacefully and soundly; wrapped up in your oversized cuddle blanket, he didn't have the heart to wake you up. So, Loki tiptoed over to the little crib and slid both his big hands underneath the small body of his son, in order to lift him up in his arms. Narfi stirred; scrunched his little face. "No, no, no, don't wake up, little prince," Loki whispered; rocking him gently. "It's all good. Daddy just wants you to meet your grandparents. They are beyond excited to meet you." The god continued to whisper to the infant, while he carried him towards the living room.

"Mother, father..." He announced his return with a smile. "It is an utmost pleasure for me to introduce you to your sweet, little grandson - Narfi." Frigga gasped as she laid eyes upon the baby; eyes starting to get clouded by tears. She was visibly happy.

While the Allmother gasped and tried to hold back her tears of happiness, Odin let out a loud, uh, shriek of happiness. It almost sounded like a battle cry; causing both Loki and Frigga to flinch. "A boy! A boy! Finally another man in the family! An heir to the throne! A new ki-" The Allfather cut off his own sentence, as he saw the bombastic side eye his wife was giving him. She was clearly not amused by his reaction. Odin cleared his throat; giving his son, who was looking quite a bit confused at him a nod, before he reached out a hand and clapped him forcefully on the shoulder. "I-I meant great, my son. Producing such strong and healthy children."

Loki - and Frigga were both still not quite convinced by his choice of words, but either way, Loki knew that his father was happy. That he was proud of him and his kids - and that made the god smile. "Would one of you like to hold him?" At this question, Odin got surprisingly excited. "I definitely wish to hold my grandson! May I?" Loki blinked; smiling, "Of course, father." and handed Narfi carefully over. The king looked down at the newborn; the softest of smiles twitching at the corners of his mouth. "He's a broth of a man, son. But why is he still in his Jotun form?" "Oh, uh, he just hasn't learned to shapeshift yet. Ella could do it immediately, but Narfi's got more of my Frost Giant genes and needs a bit more time to learn," the god tried to explain. "Ah, I see."

"Shall we have a seat?" Loki continued; gesturing towards the sofa. Both royals took the offer and sat down. Odin handed Narfi then over to his wife. "He is truly a wonderful, sweet little boy, my dear. You can be proud." Loki smiled; eyes fixated on the still sleeping infant. "I am, mother, I am - but I am even more proud of Y/N. The pregnancy, all that happened while she was pregnant and the birth itself were anything but easy and she did so great; worked so hard to bring him into this world." Frigga - and even Odin nodded; agreeing. "Indeed she is, Loki. Without a doubt one of the strongest women I know."

You had been asleep for a good while now, but your motherly instincts had tickled you awake. A sleepy gaze on the alarm clock, standing on your bedside table told you, that you had slept for almost three hours now. Three hours and Narfi didn't wake me once? You thought; felt the said motherly instincts kicking in.

Rubbing the remaining sleep from your eyes, you yawned and got quickly up; walking over to the crib - only to see that it was empty. A wave of panic and fear rolled over you, until your hazy brain told you, that Loki was with your baby; causing immediate relief to wash over you.

Making your way to the bathroom then; you heard voices coming from down the hall - and suddenly you remembered. Odin and Frigga wanted to visit you! And you slept through it. Shit. Quickly closing the door behind yourself, you took a pee and tried to make yourself look a bit more... presentable. We spoke about the king and queen of Asgard... They were royalty. After checking yourself in the mirror, you decided to join 'the party.'

The first thing you saw when you stepped inside the living room, were three adults, who had their gazes fixated on little Narfi; laying in his grandmother's arms. He was awake; cooing and gurgling - definitely being the main attraction and superstar.

You smiled; stepping closer. "Seems like the little prince met his grandparents already." At the sound of your voice, every head turned to face you. Loki was, of course, the first to react. He got up and walked over to you; gently placing both his hands on your hips. "Darling. As I can see, sleep has released you from its powerful clasp?" You nodded; smiling softly at all the love and affection Loki gave you in this moment - despite his parents presence.

"And as I can see, have the king and queen already met our little prince," you replied; standing on tiptoes and gazing over your husband's shoulder. "Indeed, darling. Apologies. I meant to wait for you, but you slept so peacefully... I didn't want to wake you." "It's okay, babe." You reassured him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, before you stepped past him - out of his embrace and approached your son, Odin and Frigga.

The Allmother handed Narfi quickly over again to her husband and stood up; opening her arms. "Y/N, my dear," she said, pulling you into a hug. Frigga was - without a doubt, one of the sweetest and kindest souls you knew. "How are you feeling? I hope you could recover a bit?" You smiled; hugging her back. "I could, yes, thank you. I still feel tired, but it's way better." "Oh, that is very reassuring to hear."

You then greeted Odin as well, who was very enthralled with your little baby boy - just like everyone. You sat down on the sofa then - in between Loki's legs; leaning against his chest, with his arms loosely wrapped around you. Narfi quite enjoyed all the attention he got. Just like being held and carried the whole time, so it was no wonder that he slept in soon again.

After a little while, 'the party' got even bigger... Scott returned Ella back home - and of course she had asked him to visit her little brother as well, to which Scott couldn't say no. And perhaps Ella forgot, that her grandparents were on a visit already...

She gently opened the main door, having learned that she must be quiet in case Narfi was sleeping and tiptoed inside the apartment. Loki had practically enchanted the door knob, so that Ella could make her way inside her home without knocking or taking a key with her. She was already a big girl, but watching over an important key was perhaps a too big task yet. So, whenever she wanted to go back inside, the doorknob turned into a doorhandle for her.

"Come on, uncle Scott!" Ella quietly, but excitedly called out; holding the door open. Scott grinned at her and sneaked inside; walking on his tiptoes. After Ella had closed the door again, they both sneaked down the hall - like agents, on their way to find her parents and brother. "I hear voices, Agent Ella. I think your brother might be awake." The little girl had to suppress her giggles. "I think that too, Mr. Ant-Man. It comes from the living room, so we should go there." "Alright. Lead the way, Agent."

Getting closer, the hushed voices got clearer - and suddenly Ella realised. "Ohh..." "What is it, Agent Ella? Have you been hit?! Is there an enemy close?!" Once again, she had to suppress her giggles. "Nooo, Mr. Ant-Man. But my grandparents are here. I could hear grandma Frigga talking." Scott's eyes widened. "Ohh... So you've got very royal visitors today?" "Uh.Huh. But that's okay. I'll take you to see Narfi anyways. Let's go, uncle Sc- I-I mean, Mr. Ant-Man."

Together, they reached the living room. Ella peeked around the door frame first; analysing the situation. She saw how Narfi was laying in Frigga's arms, while she fed him a bottle. Odin sat beside her - just like you and Loki. "Mr. Ant-Man, we're clear!" Ella turned and whispered to Scott, "All right, Agent." before she peeked around the corner again. "Hi mommy, hi daddy, hi grandma Frigga and grandpa Odin!" The little girl chimed happily, causing everyone to look at her with a smile. Scott, being the dorky and funny guy he was mimicked Ella. He peeked around the corner above her, smiling as well. "Hi Y/N, hi Loki, hi Ella's grandparen- I-I mean greetings, your majesties!"

Ella giggled like mad at her uncle Scott's funny behaviour. She adored him - without a doubt. You had to suppress a giggle as well, while Loki rolled his eyes. And Odin and Frigga? Well, they were quite a bit taken by surprise and confused. After all, they didn't have a single clue who Scott was...

"Hi princess, hi Scottie!" You answered, giving them an amused smile. "Laing, what are you doing here?" Asked your husband, visibly annoyed by the friendly Avenger. Scott wanted to answer, but Ella was the one who did. "He brought me home, daddy, from our expo- No, uh... Expola- Exploration!" "Exploration? That sounds quite exciting, if I may say so," chimed in Frigga, while she still fed the bottle to Narfi. "What did you explore, sweetie?" You asked. Scott didn't tell you what exactly he wanted to show Ella. Just that he was going to take her to Hank's laboratory - and you trusted your friend, of course. After all, he was a father, too.

Ella smiled, grabbed Scott by the hand and pulled him after her inside the living room. "He showed me his friends!" "His friends?" Questioned the Allmother. Loki, though, had already a guess. "Oh norns..." He whispered under his breath. "Uh.Huh!" The little girl let go of Scott's hand again, in order to greet everybody. Hugging you, Frigga and even her grandfather; pressing a smacking kiss on Narfi's tiny, chubby cheek and lastly running into her father's arms. It was the hug that lasted the longest - and everyone understood, because all knew that Ella was a daddy's girl. It hadn't changed and probably never would.

"He showed me his ants!" She announced proudly and happily then, causing Odin's eyes to widen. "Ants?! That mortal showed you ants?!" "Yes, grandpa Odin. Scott has sooo many of them and they are so cute and friendly!" The girl explained; totally ignoring Odin's confusion and aversion. "That is ridiculous," the Allfather whispered under his breath, while Ella talked away; earning another side eye from his wife.

"Well, that sounds amazing, sweetie!" You said, giving your daughter a good feeling - and Scott, too. "Scottie, would you like to sit down, have a cuppa coffee?" You then offered; smiling. Loki wasn't amused, what his eyes told you immediately, but you didn't care. Scott was your friend - and definitely Ella's friend. The man with short black-brown hair smiled, nodding. "I'd love to!" "Great! On my w-" You wanted to stand up, to get Scott that cup of coffee, when Loki leapfrogged you. "I'll get our favourite insect a cup of coffee, love." You blinked; were a bit surprised, but nodded. "Alright, babe, thanks."

While Loki was away, you decided to put Narfi down and lay him inside his crib, since he got quite a bit whiny and fractious. After all, there were suddenly a whole lot of people here, directing all their attention on him... Perhaps it became a little too much for the newborn now. So, you took Narfi in your arms and carried him back into yours and Loki's bedroom.

When Loki and you were away, Ella pulled Scott over to the sofa; making him sit down between her and Odin - and the Avenger was visibly excited about this. After all, he sat beside a king! A real king! An excited, hyped grin was painted on his face, as he slid closer towards the Allfather. "So, uh, Mr. Odin - your majesty, Sir..." Odin turned his head slowly; facing him, but he was definitely not quite as amused as Scott was. "How is it to be a king? It must be so freaking awesome and- Oh ma gosh... Is that gold?" He saw the buttons who kept his robe attached to his tunic. Odin wasn't wearing his armour today, since he was on this family trip, but nevertheless was he dressed royally. "Real gold??" Odin nodded; confirming Scott's assumption. "Wooow... And... And that robe..." The black-brown haired man continued; grabbing a fistful of the king's red robe. "What awesome kind of fabric is that? Some kind of cotton mix? It isn't polyester, is it??"

Odin wasn't very pleased about a mere Midgardian touching his robe. "No, it certainly isn't." He hissed and gave it a tug, to pull the fabric straight out of Scott's hands. "It is fine Asgardian silk." Scott's eyes widened and he smiled even brighter; absolutely not caring that the Allfather didn't like what he was doing. "Wow! That's so cool, I swear!"

While Odin became more and more annoyed with every passing minute; Frigga and Ella were having a hard time to suppress their giggles.

Later on, when your guests had left and Narfi was fed, you decided to take a bath, in order to relax a bit. Loki let you, of course; was more than happy that you took time for yourself to relax.

Now the god was laying on the sofa, wrapped up in a soft blanket with Narfi sleeping on his bare chest, as Ella made her way inside the living room. She was already dressed in her pyjamas; ready for bed. Loki saw her tiptoeing inside the room and smiled. "Hey there princess," he whispered; already shifting a bit. He knew what was coming and therefore lifted the blanket. Ella smiled her brightest smile, causing the proud dad's heart to skip a beat. She hopped on the sofa, crawled underneath the blanket and cuddled close to her father and brother. There needed no words to be exchanged. Just love. Loki wrapped his free arm around his daughter and dipped his head to press a lingering kiss on her head.

The three of them just laid there and enjoyed the cuddles. No words were spoken, until Ella decided to change it.

"Daddy?" "Yes, princess?" "Can I visit uncle Scott sometime again?" Loki smiled. He and Laing probably weren't best friends, but Ella adored him, so why denying her that? "Of course you can, Ella." "Really?" She quipped excitedly; blue eyes shining. "Really." "Yay!" Loki chuckled; the vibration of his chest causing Narfi to whine subtly - and Loki stopped immediately. "Apologies, little prince."

The conversation died down then, until Ella spoke up once more.

"Daddy?" The god hummed in response. "I invited uncle Scott to come to Asgard with us." Loki blinked; was quite a bit shocked. "You... You... What? Why?" "Because he wants to have a robe like grandpa Odin has." Loki grimaced; not amused by this idea. Oh norns...

#fic recs #the cuteness NEVER STOPS #also love Frigga for shutting Odin up #and that’s a good question answered about the frost giant thing!!!!#bb Ella is part frost giant like daddy

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sportswriters · 5 months ago

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how they'd react to you not saying "i love you" back

lots of fluff with the players: rúben dias, jude bellingham, joão félix, pablo gavi, trent alexander-arnold, pedri gonzález, heungmin son, mason mount

a/n: hope everybody have fun reading these! we surely did after a few drinks in <33333 - ella and namu

rúben dias

"amor? i'm heading out. i love you."

you quickly appear in the hallway, wearing a sweater that belonged to him.

“ok, have a nice day, darling,” you reply, waving goodbye.

the smile that had begun to appear on rúben's lips immediately fades, his hand resting against the doorknob he had opened earlier. when he hears your reply, he frowns, suspicious.

you get confused by his attitude and lick your lips, coming closer.

“what are you doing? i thought you had training.”

he doesn't answer right away, he just walks over to the sofa and sits down, unpretentiously. your lack of an answer made him a little suspicious, so he wasn't going to leave without something.

“yes, i do. but not until you answer me.”

you try to hold in your laughter, understanding the whole thing, but you still don't want to give in. his reaction wasn't what you'd expected. like, you didn't really expect him to just give up on going out just because you didn't answer his “i love you” like you always did.

you understood that it was really important to him.

“i don't get it, honey. did i answer you in a way that you didn't like?” you hold up your own joke, walking over to the sofa and sitting down right next to him.

as if he couldn't bear to never touch you when you were always close, his hand automatically moves to your thigh, where he squeezes it affectionately, almost unconsciously, because it's something he always does.

his expression closes with pure suspicion. he simply doesn't understand what had happened for you not to answer that you loved him back. until that point, for him, everything was fine. wasn't it?

“you tell me, y/n.”

his expression is so serious that you can't help yourself and start laughing. you quickly jump into his lap, turning him from suspicious to confused by your reaction. you hold his face with both hands.

“do you want me to tell you that I love you?” you ask, this time with a touched smile on your face.

he's so beautiful. so dangerously beautiful for his own good and sometimes you don't really believe he's yours.

he squeezes your thigh a little harder this time, as a warning.

“every day,” he adds, seriously.

you kiss his lips, laughing.

“i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you,” you start repeating several times against his lips. “i was only joking before. i wouldn't let you go without that.”

his smile returns to his lips. it was so easy to make him happy like that, you think, caressing his cheek.

“well,” he complains. “you almost did. now i'm going to be late for training because you're going to try and convince me that it was all a joke.”

you laugh and cling to him.

“wow, i fucking love you.”

jude bellingham

with things finally sorted, jude opens the door and you get out of bed just to follow him and take the opportunity to get a glass of water, since it's your day off and you're going back to your room.

“i'm leaving, baby. i love you, see you later?”

“yes, of course. good practice,” you say and walk into the kitchen.

jude blinks, confused. his eyebrows arch up, frowning as he tries to search for something in his memory that he can't recall. your answer was different from usual.

with that in mind, he opens the door and leaves, but still doesn't move to the elevator. instead, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, unlocks the screen and opens the group immediately.

“guys, did anything weird happen last night?” he sends the text and waits.

last night there was a small party at valverde's house, which you two joined and drank a bit. maybe jude did something he doesn't remember that upset you.

the answer comes almost immediately and he reads it.

“strange, like...?” camavinga asks.

“i don't know,” he types. “something that pissed y/n off?”

“what the fuck are you talking about, bellingham?” he reads the text from vinícius.

“i just said goodbye to y/n and she didn't say she loved me back”

on the other side of the door, you pick up your phone in your room, looking at the notifications. as you read everything, you laugh heartily.

“jude, you know I'm in the group too, right?” you send.

jude opens the door again after reading your message and goes straight to your room. he finds you sitting on the bed, still laughing, and you look up when you notice his presence, staring at him amused.

“so...?” he asks you, expecting an answer to the same question as before.

you laugh again and put your phone away. you get up and walk over to him, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“nothing weird happened last night,” you reply, with a playful smile. “i was only joking, darling. of course i love you”

you nearly laugh again at the relieved sigh he lets out and the way he holds you so tightly, kissing your lips.

joão félix

hanging his bag over his shoulder, joão kisses you on the temple in farewell, while you're still finishing your coffee to start getting ready for work, since you don't have to arrive until later today.

“i'm on my way. i love you,” he says, moving from the kitchen worktop to cross the hall to the living room.

“alright, i'll see you later!” you reply, pouring a little more milk into your coffee, without looking at him, appearing a little distracted by your task.

you don't notice that he didn't cross the hall. he just stands there, as if waiting for something, which doesn't come. that's not how you normally say goodbye, so he's instantly alert.

turning around, joão appears at your side again, hugging you from behind, his hands around your waist in a very tight way, giving you the chance to smell his perfume even more closely. you chuckle, not expecting this attitude from him and turn your face to him, frowning.

“is everything all right?” he asks, a little hesitant, and kisses your shoulder affectionately.

the whole time his eyes are on you, as if he's studying your reaction, looking for something he didn't notice before or missed.

“yes... why wouldn't it be?”

you know why he's asking, but you don't say anything. you just carry on. just a little longer. even though you're sorry to see him with that expression of someone who thinks he's done something wrong, but hasn't yet found out what.

“like, there hasn't been any more shit gossip that you've been tagged in, right? anything like that?”

you lick your lips, staring into his eyes. ever since you started your public relationship, some people have been cruel enough to say things about you cheating on him, like his ex, that you wouldn't know how to take care of his heart and other shit. at first, this affected you and also worried joão, but then you dropped all those negative comments, focusing only on the good things with him.

“no, darling, there hasn’t” you reassure him, kissing his lips quickly, turning to face him, his hands never leaving you. “why now?”

he squeezes your waist.

“ah, you didn't say you love me back” he replies. “and you always do, right?”

you finally let out a laugh. he's confused, so you wrap your hands around his neck.

“i was joking, love,” you say, smiling. “i got you used to it, didn't i?”

relief washes over him instantly and he smiles.

“wouldn't that be a bad thing?” he tries to correct.

you widen your smile and shake your head.

“no, i've got you used to it very well,” you reinforce. “because that's the least you deserve: to hear every day that i love you. i love you.”

so he just kisses you, his heart warmer than ever, even though it's cold in chelsea.

pablo gavi

“did you get everything? aren't you forgetting anything?”

gavi checks his bag once more, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything after your question. when he seems sure, he quickly denies it with his head.

“no, all set. shall we?”

you nod and pick up your own bag. you walk out together and enter the elevator hand in hand. you didn't live together, but sometimes you spent the night and went to work in the morning from his place, since some of your things were there and it made your life easier. it had been his idea and, even though you hesitated a little, you ended up accepting.

the elevator leaves you both in the parking lot, where your car is.

“see you later?” he asks and you nod, remembering that you were getting used to sleeping there more than once. “i love you.”

he kisses your lips and you return it, pulling away soon after.

“see you later, sweetheart.”

you say goodbye once more and walk to your car, ready to be on your way.

gavi stands still for a moment, trying to take in what has just happened. he watches as you get into your own car and drive past him, blowing a kiss into the air, but he can't even smile.

he stands there for a moment, feeling confused and odd, the situation was odd. you said goodbye to him in a strange way.

now he was going to barcelona training with his head a little distracted. he couldn't keep up with the banter with the boys or do his best in practice. he seriously thought something was wrong with you, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't figure out what.

his teammates asked him if he was all right or what was going on that had him so distracted, unable to concentrate one hundred percent on training. he would give a vague answer and carry on, even though his mind was wandering towards an answer that wasn't coming.

he thought a lot. about everything. about anything. he thought about texting you, but gave up. you always received a message from him every time he arrived at the training center, but this time he didn't. gavi simply didn't even think about it, his mind wandering back to the moment you said goodbye, trying to find out what had gone so wrong.

he tried to remember if he had missed anything, but he couldn't find it.

hours passed and it was time to go home again. you arrived first, a little tired, but you tried to prepare some homemade dinner to welcome him. gavi always arrived at the same time every day, on time, but on this one, he was ten minutes late.

you waited, sitting on the couch, watching some reality show that you didn't follow much, but that was what was passing your time. ten minutes later, you heard the door click.

when you turn to look at him, gavi goes off first, without even expecting anything beforehand.

“i just can't do it,” he begins, dropping his bag with his training stuff. “i've been thinking about it all day and i still can't reach a conclusion.”

you suppress a smile, but you're still a little confused.

“gavi?”

he looks at you, his shoulders slumped, his puss in boots expression.

“did i do something? are you upset about something? did something happen?” he fired off without taking a breath.

you pause the show and turn completely towards him, still sitting on the couch. you knew exactly what that meant, but you thought it would be fun to take it further.

“what do you mean ‘something?’ what are you talking about?” you play the fool.

gavi takes a deep breath. that had been torturing him all day. not even the smell of home-cooked food calms his nerves.

he approaches the couch.

“you didn't say you loved me back this morning,” he explains.

you try, but you can't suppress your laughter. you put your hand to your mouth, trying to control yourself, and gavi's expression changes.

“what's so funny?”

“baby, i was joking,” you confess.” i love you, gavi.”

you get up, trying to approach him while standing on the couch.

his mood changes. his eyes narrow towards you, trying to take in what you've just said.

“wait a minute, what?”

you laugh again.

“i was only joking. i didn't say i loved you this morning on purpose.”

you try to kiss him, but he pulls away, his expression tight.

“you…” he shakes his head, disbelieving that you had done it on purpose. he can't believe that he was stuck on it all day, while you knew it was a joke.

of course you let him think about it all day.

“that was ridiculous,” he says, still shaking his head and walking away, without giving you a chance to get closer and kiss him. “ridiculous, y/n.”

he walks down the corridor towards his room, totally shocked that it was all a joke, although part of him was relieved that everything was still fine and that he hadn't done anything wrong.

“come back here, it was a joke, baby!”

trent alexander-arnold

after checking his watch and realizing that he'd have to hurry if he wanted to be on time for practice, trent slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his keys from the bedside table. you were in the kitchen cleaning and rearranging some glasses to make room for the new wine ones you got as gifts. you'd almost forgotten about the prank you'd planned, but you only had to feel trent's kiss on your neck for a mischievous smile to appear on your face.

“i have to go, i love you. don't forget to check our reservation later.”

“ok, i'll let you know when i've confirmed it,” you replied, giving him a kiss.

trent smiled and made his way to the living room, then stopped. his head tilted slightly as if he were experiencing a sudden lightening.

“aren't you going to tell me you love me?!” he asked, still standing in the same spot.

“what? sorry, i'm distracted.”

“last chance!”

the sink tap was turned on, followed by other utensil noises. trent squinted his eyes and came back into the room to look at you – you really looked busy, too busy.

“hi, love. do you need anything else?”

trent arched an eyebrow.

“no, i'm on my way. love you.”

“ok, text me when you get there.”

silence.

“yeah, i'm going to spend a few days at dom's, good luck without me.”

he then dashed to the door, slamming it hard.

“what? trent!”

when you got there, you couldn't move the handle. it clearly wasn't locked, so you laughed in frustration when you realized what was going on.

“trent, i love you! it was a joke!”

you knew your boyfriend was considerably stronger, but you still tried to force the door once more. to no avail.

“oh yeah? now you do? didn't convince me.”

“you're going to be late!”

“this is more important, it's a life lesson.”

“fine! now let me see you and apologize properly,” you asked, resting your forehead on the door.

you stepped back when you felt the doorknob move slowly. there he was with the most unbearable expression of all and with his arms crossed, you soon knew that you would have a lot of work to do to make up for this great and terrible mistake.

you moved closer, uncrossed his arms and put them around your body.

“i love you very much, i just wanted to tease you with a little prank,” you said as you spread kisses along the length of his neck. “but you already knew that, right? you know i wouldn't let it slide.”

trent pouted, pretending to think about it, which shocked you. when you tried to pull away, he brought you back, smiling again – a genuinely cheeky smile.

“i know something would be very wrong if you'd forgotten, it's just that you're a pretty bad liar, so it was easy to figure out your little game.”

trent pressed a lingering kiss to your lips.

“just don't do it again, or i'll have to come up with my own pranks too.”

pedri gonzález

“damn, i'm really late,” you say, picking up the car keys and throwing them to pedri, who always seems to forget them when he goes out.

he picks up his bag and phone, quickly answering a message and looks up to see you putting on your heels, ready to leave together.

“i can drop you off at work,” he offers.

you wave your hand in denial.

“that means you'd be late, since it's the opposite direction. and we both know how coach flick feels about being late.”

he can't disagree and he knows you're right, but even so, his expression drops and you notice.

“it's okay, love. i've already called an uber,” you reassure him and pick up your own bag. “shall we?”

the two of you leave together and he locks the door to the apartment. since you always arrive first, he gives you back the key, because he always forgets to make his own copy, and you take the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

“did gavi confirm dinner?” you ask.

“yes, we're coming together,” pedri replies.

you nod and when you finally reach the parking lot for pedri to take his car, you check on your phone that your uber will arrive in front of the building in two minutes. you tell him so.

“i'll see you later, then.” he leans in to give you a kiss and you reciprocate. “i love you.”

“good training, love,” you say and say goodbye, turning to leave.

you hide a smile, proud that you managed to remember to play a little prank on him before you left. pedri is confused, the gears of his brain turning slowly as he processes the fact that you didn't say you loved him back.

then you feel a hand grab your arm and turn you around – it's him.

“pedri?”

“should i apologize to you for something?” he asks, his voice a little uncertain.

“do you think you need to?”

the panic takes over his face and you can see that he's trying to remember what he did wrong. it was more likely that he wouldn't find out and would send a text to the boys, asking how he could best apologize, even if he didn't know what the mistake was.

“did i leave the wet towel on the bed again?” he asks, first try. “jesus, fer gave out my number again and some girl called and you got it all wrong?”

“fer hasn't done that since the last time i scolded him.”

you try not to laugh when you see how desperate he is.

“pedri, i have to go. the uber's coming.”

“no!” he holds your arm tighter. “you can't leave without telling me what i need to apologize for. you didn't say you loved me back.”

you laugh, giving up. the plan was really to leave without telling him, but his genuine distress made you realize that you couldn't let him torture himself the whole way wondering what he'd done wrong and what he needed to apologize for. you'd rather he concentrated one hundred percent and entirely on training.

“i was only joking, okay? there's nothing for you to apologize for, love.” you approach him, caressing his cheek affectionately. “not even for the towel, which, by the way, yes, you forgot it wet this morning.”

pedri rolls his eyes and pinches your waist lightly.

“no funny business, y/n.” he snorts.

but his unhappy frown doesn't last long when you kiss his lips gently, this time being the one to apologize.

“i couldn't resist,” you say. “i really have to go now. i'll see you later.”

“and...?” he encourages, still not letting go.

you chuckle and hear the uber notification.

“and i love you.”

it's only when he finally seems satisfied that he lets you go, but still makes you delay a minute longer with a kiss on the lips.

heungmin son

you brought the jacket that heungmin had forgotten on the couch, so he could finally close his suitcase. he was preparing for the season with the korean national team, so you took the opportunity to spend your days off together. this time you couldn't join heungmin on the trip because your work schedule didn't allow it.

the drive to the airport was smooth, while you hummed along to the songs on the radio, heungmin took the chance to doze off in the passenger seat - his hand resting on your thigh the whole ride.

you parked at the entrance to the airline gate, as you had to say goodbye to him there.

“send me a picture of the snacks in first class on this plane,” you asked excitedly, even though it wasn't the first time.

heungmin laughed.

“i love you, take care on the way back and let me know when you arrive.”

you pressed his cheeks with your hands and kissed him several times.

“have a good trip.”

heungmin pulled away and stared at you with a broad smile. then he got out of the car and you opened the trunk so he could get his things. in the rearview mirror, you noticed when he closed the door and stared into the distance with a question mark on his face. it took you a great deal of effort to hold back your laughter when he tapped twice on the window right next to you.

“i'm going now, i love you.”

“all right, take care,” you said, and gave him another tender kiss.

however, heungmin didn't move, leaning his elbows on the door.

“honey, i'm going to get fined if i stay here another minute.”

“i'm not worried about that. is everything alright?”

“everything's fine, did we forget something? do you want me to go back and get it?”

“i think i might have missed something, because you haven't said you love me.”

you pressed your lips together, unable to contain yourself in front of his worried expression. although you knew that heungmin would be fully capable of paying any fine, you didn't want to spend money on this kind of nonsense.

“it was a prank, my love. i love you, ok? now get going, because i don't want you to be late, and i don't want to spend money on an airport ticket.”

he stayed there, watching you, analyzing any sign of a lie. analyzing you like someone who has made a mistake and doesn't want to repeat it.

“heungmin!”

“fine, but you're not geting off that easy,” he warned, then walked away.

“come here, give me one more kiss.”

“no, rethink your actions. i'll see you when i get back.”

“heungmin, no! i love you!”

you could see his satisfied smile as he walked towards the airport entrance. a honk made you take notice of your surroundings again, but that wasn't what worried you. you honked back.

“i'm leaving, damn it!”

a few hours later, you saw the notification with a text from heungmin.

baby: [photo] i've already written down the names of the things that were served to us on the plane. i'll buy them for us when i think you deserve them again.

y/n: cruel

baby: only fair

mason mount

"have a nice day, sweetheart. i'm heading out. love you."

you were still curled up in bed. the day off came at a good time, because you felt completely exhausted and all you wanted to do was rot in that bed. it was unfair that mason had to leave, but you accepted it, not having much to do, but you thought you'd play with him a bit, before he left.

"have a good game this weekend. text me when you get home, yeah?" you mumbled.

mason nodded and was about to close the bedroom door and let you go back to sleep, when he realized what had just happened. you didn't say it back. you always did, it was something that came out automatically and genuinely from both of you, but not this time.

he put his hand on the doorknob and went back to looking at you in bed, your eyes alight with a mischievous gleam that he didn't notice.

"is everything alright?" he asked, worried.

mason wasn't usually insecure with you, he simply had no reason to be. so when something like this happened, he got worried that something was wrong and he didn't notice.

"yes," you answered, falsely confused by his question, when you knew where it's coming from.

mason shook his head slowly, processing. he dropped his bag on the floor and stepped closer to the bed, stopping right next to you.

"are you sure?" he continued, looking for something in your expression.

"what is it, mase?"

he let out a frustrated sigh. you could tell he was struggling to understand what was going on.

"you know you can tell me anything, right?" he reinforces.

"mase. love."

you got up, pushing the sheets away from your body, sitting up in bed.

"you didn't say you loved me back. is something wrong?"

"love, i don't..."

your heart squeezed when you saw his expression.

"because i say i love you every day in the most sincere way i can. come on, tell me, what happened? i can cancel my flight right now and we'll sort it out."

"mase, what? no!"

he couldn't be serious about canceling his flight and not being at the game this weekend, for goodness sake! it was an important game and he was still earning his place in the team, you would never let him do that, even if there was something wrong.

"baby, i was joking. of course i love you back." you giggled, leaning your forehead against his.

"what?" he let go and you laughed even harder.

"that's not funny, y/n! you scared me."

"sorry, sorry!" you rushed to say, kissing his lips."it was just a prank. no canceling flights, okay?"

he shook his head, his lips almost forming a pout.

"i'm not convinced it was a prank. are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

him doubting you made you realize that the prank didn't go as planned. however, you also learned that it was important to him, in a way you hadn't imagined.

"there's nothing wrong, i promise."

he arched his eyebrow.

"really?"

this time you rolled your eyes.

"mason. you don't believe me?" you fire back.

"i just...” he tried to say, but you interrupted him.

"i love you. yesterday, today, tomorrow. the rest of my life. i love you."

he finally seemed convinced and held your face with both hands, foreheads still pressed together.

"even if things go wrong?"

"especially if things go wrong."

he smiled. so openly that you found yourself melting for his beauty again - secretly.

"i'll never get tired of hearing that."

729 notes · View notes

dxckgrxsonx · 2 years ago

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thinking ab brat tamer!jason making reader count how many times he’s spanked them and he’s cooing, feigning forgiveness before he shoves his fingers in them, not allowing them to cum the whole night😋

ufghhh yes <3

he forces you to count them out even when your voice splinters and shakes. its almost pathetic really when he hears you start to whimper and cry after the seventh smack, hands coming back to feebly block his next hit. he has to clench his jaw to stop the smirk from pulling at his mouth when you mis-count, words jamming up behind you teeth. “oh little bird, let’s start from the beginning again, huh?” your answering pleas almost make it worth putting up with your behaviour.

the really worthwhile part for him is driving you up to the edge and leaving you there, dangling at the precipice of something euphoric just to wait for you to slip back from the brink. only to get you back there again, suspended, aching. he strokes your hair and smooths his thumb over your wet cheeks as you beg to finally, finally come.

and he lets you believe he’ll let you come, “okay sweetheart, you’ve done so well for me and I forgive you for being such an ungrateful brat. you can come.”

but he stops touching you. right when you shudder to the tips of your toes. right when you blink away your tears and thank him so prettily. he just stops and pushes two fingers into you, so tight and wet and desperate.

the noise you make nearly kills him.

“you’re so stupid baby.” he says and crooks his fingers inside you, just to listen to you cry out his name. “only good girls get to come. and I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”

#I’ll be going insane now thankyou #the whole feigning forgiveness thing is reallyyyy fucking me up #ugh so good #I love you for his #brat tamer!jason #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #asks #answered #ella writes

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ella-the-fella · 3 months ago

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I just realized something

With Albert sent to ANOTHER asylum

It leaves APA having to keep the asylum for a while-

So how he'll gonna explain the patients that their caretaker gone insane and attempt to kill them? Without making them feel like it's their fault-

*HOLDS THE MIC ON APAUPE'S FACE*

ANSWER APA-

Don't mind his screen! He broke it himself! For abso no reason at all.....!!^_^

Something seems a bit off...

#ella does silly willy things #oc #oc art #OC HIDDEN LORE MAYBE???#asks #oc questions #oc qna #qna #questions and answers

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saturnznct · 10 months ago

Text

he holds the baby for the first time | enhypen x reader

➸ note; hehe my first fic back!! very much in my engene era again so expect more enha fics! hope I'm not too rusty

➸ word count: 2159 words

➸ sangyoon, sam, ella, eunhye, yeeun & serin; newborn

➸ warning(s): bloody imagery(?), breastfeeding, premature birth, c-section, mentions of breathing tube

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

heeseung

So much could happen in the span of a year.

Heeseung couldn’t believe that in just one year, you had gotten married, found out you were pregnant on the same day, been through a whole pregnancy, and now your son was finally here.

‘He is the cutest baby there has ever been,’ Heeseung declares once he’s all cleaned up and laying on your chest.

‘You say that now, wait until we get home and he keeps us up all night long.’

‘Doesn’t make him any less gorgeous,’ Heeseung grins, ‘just like his mummy/mommy.’

‘I don’t know if that’s the best word to describe mummy/mommy right now.’

‘No, I think it’s the perfect word. You have never been more beautiful to me than you are right now.’

‘You’re cute,’ you roll your eyes, ‘I hope he looks like you.’

Heeseung turns his head to kiss the side of yours, and in that moment you yawn.

‘Oh, I think mummy/mommy needs a nap Yoonie.’

‘Hmm, I agree… Will you be okay on your own?’

‘Don’t worry about us,’ Heeseung gives you a reassuring smile, ‘you need to focus on getting rest. We’ll be just fine.’

Heeseung ever so gently lifts Sangyoon from your chest, cradling him in his arms.

‘Wake me, if he needs me,’ you mumble sleepily, turning onto your side and closing your eyes.

Heeseung settles on the couch beside the window, laying across it.

He briefly scrolls through his phone, reading notifications and answering a couple of text messages but finds he cannot tear his eyes away from Sangyoon for too long.

After a few minutes, you’re clearly asleep, face relaxed and body rising up and down rhythmically.

Heeseung whispers to his baby boy.

‘You’re perfect, aren’t you? I didn’t expect for you to happen so soon but.. I’m so grateful you came along when you did.’

Heeseung knows that you can’t really tell a baby’s features for a while, but he swears Sangyoon has his nose. His chest fills with pride.

‘I love you so so much Sangyoon-ie.’

jay

Jay had not stopped crying since the moment his son was born.

The moment the tears would begin to subside, he caught a glimpse of his baby boy laying in your arms and his eyes would become glossy again. If you’d told Jay nine months ago that this is where he would be now, he wouldn’t have believed it. But starting his family with you felt so right, like the most natural thing in the world.

‘He looks exactly like you,’ you mumble tiredly, gently rubbing Sam’s head with your thumb.

‘You think so?’

‘Oh yeah. Daddy’s twin.’

Jay’s heart leaps at the title. He studies Sam’s face for a few moments.

‘You know what, I think you’re right,’ he says, ‘Your genes stood no chance against mine.’

‘M’not complaining.’

‘Good genes all around.’

By now, Sam was a couple of hours old, and you had been doing skin-to-skin with him for some time. Coupled with the exhaustion of the birth, your eyes are growing heavy.

‘God, you must be exhausted,’ Jay notices your worn out demeanour.

‘It’s been a long day,’ you chuckle.

‘C-can I take him from you?’

‘You don’t have to ask, you’re his daddy.’

You sit up a bit, allowing Jay to take Sam from you more easily.

‘Hi baby boy,’ Sam fusses a little bit, ‘it’s okay, I’m your daddy.’

Sam’s fussing quickly turns into weak wails, and Jay’s expression drops.

‘No, no, don’t cry, please- Y/N, I think he wants to be with you-‘

‘Jay. You’re fine, just keep going. He’ll calm down.’

He looks totally out of his depth, but perseveres, continuing to shush and comfort the baby.

‘You’re okay, you’re safe, it’s just me, your mummy/mommy is still here, see?’

Sam eventually settles, cries reduced to gurgles.

Sensing his small victory, Jay is beaming, more than you’ve ever seen before. Again he can’t help but think about how natural but so foreign it feels to have his own baby in his arms.

Jay awkwardly rocks Sam, ‘I can’t believe you’re really ours, my son…’

jake

Through his career, Jake has been able to travel the world and experience so many unique things, but nothing will ever come close to watching you give birth to Ella.

You had planned for a home birth, feeling as though your home would be a comforting setting and make the process easier. You’d pictured maybe giving birth on your bed or maybe even the couch or a beanbag (not considering the mess) so it was a bit of a surprise that you wound up in your large bathtub. But, you had insisted, at the time.

Jake had sat in with you, and with the help of the midwife, had delivered Ella himself. He’d held her for just a moment, holding her under her arms as he transferred her to you, but even just that one touch had him longing for another. Jake knew how important it was for Ella to get to know yours first, so he pushed his feelings aside.

The both of you were so mesmerised by her big shiny brown eyes and little sounds that you hardly noticed the fallout from the birth pooling below you.

‘We should really give you a hose down, Y/N,’ your midwife gestures to your separate shower, ‘are your pyjamas still laid out in the bedroom? You can get into bed afterwards.’

She leaves to grab your change of clothes while you and Jake make the awkward first handover.

Jake wanders into her nursery while you step into the shower with the midwife’s help. Ella’s hands peek out from the blanket, grasping at the air.

‘Oh wow, hi baby,’ he whispers, holding out his finger and fitting it under Ella’s curled little hand.

Ella gurgles and spit pools between her lips, which Jake gently wiped away with the blanket.

’You’re so tiny, almost feel like you’re gonna break.’

Jake slowly rubs her hand with his thumb.

‘Let’s put some clothes on you.’

Jake lays her down on the changing table, choosing a floral print onesie and putting it on her, just like how he learned in your antenatal classes.

He gently lifts Ella up again, taking her into your bedroom to wait for you.

He tentatively lifts her tiny head to his lips, pressing a kiss to her forehead.‘You’re my beautiful girl, aren’t you? Gonna do my absolute best by you. I promise I’ll look after you, always.’

sunghoon

This was absolutely the greatest day of Sunghoon’s life.

His beautiful baby girl had come into the world safely, and she was everything he’d hoped for and more.

He couldn’t look at her for more than a few moments without tearing up or going on a tangent about how much he loves her and you.

He secretly (but not so secretly) had hoped for at least one daughter, and when you found out Eunhye was in fact a girl, he was ecstatic.

The moment she was born and he saw her for the first time, it was as though his heart had doubled in size, as if it had to grow bigger to make room for just how much love he had for his daughter.

Eunhye was barely two hours old when she fed for the first time. The midwife helped you with the actual feeding, getting Eunhye to latch on properly, while Sunghoon supported you more with encouraging words and helping you drink water while your hands were occupied.

Otherwise, Sunghoon felt a little unhelpful, standing at a distance and just watching.

It was blatantly so difficult for you. The feeding hurt, your entire body ached and you felt pain all over, and he was essentially powerless.

‘She’s eating well,’ the midwife commented, ‘she’s got a good appetite.’

‘Wonder where she gets that..’

‘It’ll get easier, Y/N. You’ll both get used to it and it will hurt less and less.’

Eventually, Eunhye tries to pull away, signalling she’s done. The midwife turns to Sunghoon.

‘Dad? You want to burp the little one?’

‘Hoon?’

Sunghoon is taken aback, suddenly uneasy.

‘Is it okay?’ He asks you.

‘Hoon, you should take her. Let her get to know her daddy.’

‘Okay, Sunghoon, if you just lift her from under her arms- that’s it- rest her on your shoulder, one hand here, the other on her back.’

Eunhye feels tiny in his arms. The midwife instructs him on how to properly burp her.

‘This won’t hurt her, will it?’

’No,’ the midwife chuckles, ‘you’d know if it was.’

Sunghoon’s head is craned around to look at her face, unable to look away.

’You’re doing really well, Sunghoon,’ the midwife praises, and a few minutes later, Eunhye burps, then whines.

‘You’re okay, you’re okay,’ Sunghoon pouts, ‘you’re just amazing, aren’t you?’

sunoo

‘She’s an angel,’ Sunoo is just radiating pure happiness and pride. He practically has hearts in his eyes looking at your newborn daughter, who was cooing in your arms.

’She’s perfect,’ you agree.

Your baby girl’s eyes are only half open, but she’s clearly studying the two of you.

‘Hi, baby,’ Sunoo says softly, ‘we love you so much.’

‘We really do,’ you smile.

Sunoo leans across to kiss her head, and when he pulls away he rests his hand on her head.

’Her head is so small, fits in my hand.’

‘Didn’t feel very small when it was coming out of me,’ you remark pointedly, and he winces a little.

‘Of course, I didn’t think of that. You did incredibly.’

You could see how eager Sunoo was to be close to her, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

‘Do you want to hold her?’

Sunoo’s eyes gloss over.

‘Is that even a question?’

‘So no then?’

’Shut up, give her here.’

She doesn’t fuss in the slightest when being passed to Sunoo.

‘Oh hello my pretty angel,’ Sunoo handles her expertly, like he was made to be a dad.

He lifts her up to kiss her forehead, and lingers there for a moment.

’She smells so good,’ Sunoo chuckles, ‘like a proper baby.’

‘She is a proper baby,’ you point out.

‘You know what I mean. I almost don’t believe she’s real. Don’t believe we really made her. She’s so pretty, it’s almost like I’m holding a doll.’

Sunoo rocks her while shifting his weight between his feet, eyes never leaving her face, warm smile never leaving his.

‘Yeeun,’ Sunoo says suddenly.

‘Huh?’

‘She looks like a Yeeun.’

You mull it over for a few moments.

‘I like it,’ you nod, ‘Yeeun it is.’

Sunoo somehow brightens even more, so proud that he’d named his daughter.

‘You’re my beautiful girl, Yeeun-ah,’ he repeatedly kisses her head, ‘I promise I’ll love and protect you always.’

jungwon

You were thirty-four weeks when your waters broke, and Serin was rushed into the world.

She was tiny, barely five pounds.

Jungwon held your hand throughout the whole surgery, and was reluctant to leave your side when Serin was taken away and you were being stitched up.

Serin was quickly referred to special care, and you were taken along with her.

‘How does she look?’ you ask Jungwon, while your baby girl is getting hooked up to the equipment.

‘She’s beautiful,’ Jungwon holds your hand again, squeezing it gently, ‘so beautiful. She’ll be okay.’

For hours, you feel hopeless. You feel so empty, and you ache to hold and be with your daughter.

Jungwon convinces you to get some sleep, which after the long day you’ve had, it finds you easier than you thought.

You wake up to Jungwon shaking you gently.

‘Baby, look who it is.’

He helps you sit up while Serin is wheeled into the room in a crib.

She has patches on her body, to monitor her heart rate and breathing, and a breathing tube in her nose.

‘She’s very healthy Mama,’ the midwife says, ‘just needs some help with those lungs.’

‘Can- can we hold her?’ you ask weakly.

‘You can,’ the midwife smiles.

You sob when she’s finally placed on your chest and you get to do skin to skin.

‘Look at her,’ you cry, and when you look at Jungwon, he’s wiping away tears.

He opens his mouth to speak, but chokes out a sob of his own.

An hour flies by and the midwife returns, both to check on you and the baby. You feed Serin for the first time.

‘Daddy, would you like a hold?’ The midwife asks, and Jungwon’s heart skips a beat.

‘Can I?’ he asks you, and you nod.

The midwife helps, keeping the wires out of the way.

The moment Serin is placed in his arms, Jungwon’s entire world changes.

‘Hey Serin,’ Jungwon says softly, ‘hi sweetheart. You’re our strong girl, aren’t you?’

Tears roll down your cheeks, hormones and stress of the day catching up to you.

‘Our fighter girl,’ he muses, ‘you are so so loved.’

2K notes · View notes

ramp-it-up · 2 months ago

Text

Trouble in Mind

Summary: Las Vegas, 1952. James Buchanan Barnes is the newest, and youngest, Capo in town. But amid the glitz and shadows of the Strip, he never expects to find you, the beautiful singer who vanished from his life six years ago without a trace. Bucky wants you back. And he wants answers. But you're only willing to give him one of those things.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Lounge Singer!Reader

A/N: This is an absolute fever dream inspired by #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Mafia Bucky.

I went back to 50's Vegas because I need another world to get lost in. This is a little longer because this world is so fetch. I can't quite decide if he is going to be dark!Mafia! Bucky after this. Let me know what you think! Please reblog, comment, and like!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Angst. Lots of cigarette smoking, longing, forbidden romance, Steve and Sam (they are warnings!), Bucky is an ass, cocky Bucky, smooth talker Bucky, young love, heart break, a slap (which he deserves), rough sex, wall sex, 50's foundation garments, long time no sex, oral (f receiving) squirting praise kink, raw p in v, lies, deceit, and crime, along with 1950's race relations and allusions to Jim Crow. Whew.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Las Vegas, 1952

Vegas glittered at night.

Neon lights buzzed, the air thick with cigarette smoke and money. And tonight, a set of eyes was watching you that you thought you’d left far behind.

You felt his gaze before you even saw him. It burned into you from the darkest corner of the club. The kind of stare that made your skin prickle, which was both a warning and a temptation.

Bucky.

You’d heard a new Capo was coming to take over the casino, an up and comer from the East Coast, one of the youngest Bosses ever.

You never imagined it would be Bucky Barnes.

------

Brooklyn, 1946

Bucky saw you before you ever looked his way.

James Buchanan Barnes was fresh out of the war and already sinking into the life waiting for him back home.

The one his mother prayed he’d stay away from.

The one he walked into anyway.

The scent of fresh bread drifted from the bakery down the block as Bucky leaned outside the corner store, trading laughs with his boys, cigarette dangling from his fingers, watching the world pass him by.

Then you walked past, on the way to your vocal lessons.

Your head was high, shoulders squared, exuding the kind of confidence that was ingrained. Your dress clung just right, swaying with each step, and Bucky swore he forgot how to breathe.

He knew your type, a daddy’s girl, from a family with expectations. A good girl from Bed-Stuy, the kind who kept her nose clean and didn’t look twice at trouble.

Trouble, like him.

Down on the corner, they could hear your voice carry over the city noise, rising like a bird above the clatter of the el train.

Lark. That’s what they called you when you weren’t listening. Never to your face.

They knew better than to get too close, and Bucky knew better than to look too long.

But he looked anyway.

And when you finally met his eyes, something in you flickered.

Your father had warned you about guys like Bucky Barnes.

‘Young punks’, he called them, hanging outside that shop owned by the local boss. Nothing but dead ends and broken hearts. He told you to keep your head high and your eyes forward, and to remember who you were.

And if that warning wasn’t clear enough, there was another, unspoken one layered beneath it: Girls like you don’t mix with boys like him. Not in this world.

But when Bucky looked at you with those blue eyes, you knew you were already ruined.

He found ways to get close.

Catching your eye when you passed by, a slow smirk when you looked away too fast. Holding the door open a second too long, letting his fingers brush yours when he handed over your change. Words, always words, low and teasing, dangerous for a girl with a mind like yours.

Words were your weakness.

"You gonna keep pretendin’ you don’t see me, Doll?" he asked one evening, stepping into your path as you left the bakery.

You could smell his cologne and feel his heat and why were you thinking that his lips were nice? What was the tingle in your lower back that you just knew would go away if he touched you there?

You shook your head, remembering you couldn’t entertain this.

"You gonna keep acting like it don’t matter?" you shot back, heart pounding.

You continued on your way but that night you couldn’t sleep for thoughts of him.

One day, he whistled as you walked by. And that day, you stopped.

"You want a problem, Barnes?"

He smirked, looking you over blatantly and licking his lips.

"A problem’s not what I want, Doll. Just enjoyin’ the view."

That should’ve been the end of it. But it wasn’t.

You should’ve ignored him. Should’ve listened to your father. But you didn’t.

Because Bucky Barnes had a way of making himself impossible to ignore.

It was stolen glances at first, then hushed conversations on the stoop when the sun was setting. His voice curled around your name, making it sound like something precious. It was the thrill of his hand ghosting over yours, his fingers rough but careful, like he was afraid you’d pull away.

Except you never did.

You knew the risks. You knew people talked. In a world that kept its lines drawn thick and unyielding, Bucky chasing after you was a dangerous thing.

But Bucky never cared about lines.

He didn't care when people whispered, when your father tightened the reins, when your friends warned you that even if he wasn’t afraid, the world wouldn’t be kind.

“You scared?” he asked one night, his voice soft but steady.

"Of what?"

"Of what happens if you let yourself want this as bad as I do.”

You should have been. But you weren’t.

At first, you told yourself it was just curiosity, just a bit of rebellion before you settled down and did what was expected of you. But curiosity turned into something more, something dangerous.

Something like love.

Because when he kissed you for the first time, heat pressing against heat in the shadow of an alleyway, you didn’t care about the rules. Bucky tasted like smoke and sin and the promise of something reckless. And suddenly, all the warnings in the world didn’t matter.

Didn’t matter that Brooklyn had unspoken rules. Because Bucky knew what he wanted. And he knew you wanted him back.

He savored those stolen nights in dark alleys, the way you melted under his touch, the way you let yourself need him, even if only when no one else could see.

And you knew that it wasn’t just about the thrill of sneaking around, or the way he could make your breath hitch with a single look. It was about him, the way he softened when it was just the two of you. The way his fingers traced slow patterns on your skin, memorizing you like you were something sacred.

The way he made you feel like you belonged to him.

Maybe you did. Because you gave him your innocence.

But love like that didn’t come without consequences.

What Bucky hadn’t expected, what he hadn’t planned for, was how deep he’d fall for you, how much he’d care.

You weren’t just a good time. You weren’t just a secret thrill. You were it.

The one thing that made the rest of the world fade away.

And maybe that’s why he didn’t see it coming.

One day you were there, warm and real beneath his hands. And the next, you were gone.

No warning. No note. No goodbye. Just vanished, into thin air.

And for six years, he told himself it didn’t matter. That if you wanted to leave, then fine. That he wasn’t the type to chase ghosts.

But then he saw you again, standing under the lights of a Vegas stage, your voice carving its way through the smoky haze.

And in that moment, Bucky Barnes knew one thing for certain.

This time, he wasn’t letting you run.

—-

Vegas, 1952

The man that you had to leave in the middle of the night was sitting in the lounge that you sang in. The man that you dreamed about at night as you sang love songs was right here in the room with you.

And you didn’t know how to act.

You should have run. But you didn’t.

He was seated in the VIP section, flanked by two other men in sharp suits, but he was the only one that mattered. The way he lounged, cigarette between his fingers, watching you like he never relinquished his ownership of you, made your head spin.

—--

Bucky leaned back in his seat, cigarette burning low between his fingers, letting the familiar hum of the casino settle into his bones: the money, the women, the men who thought they were untouchable.

Las Vegas glowed like sin, neon and greed dripping down its streets. It wasn’t Brooklyn, but it had its own kind of pull, its own kind of power. And now, it belonged to him.

It all revolved around him.

But none of it held his attention. Not like you did.

He saw you before you saw him, and for a moment, the world tilted as the air sucked straight out of the room.

Then you stepped onto that stage, looking like something spun from a dream, and for the first time in years, Bucky almost believed in fate.

He’d spent too long clawing his way up in this world to let anyone, or anything, decide his future for him. But seeing you again? It felt like something supernatural.

Because here you were.

In his city.

Singing like you owned the damn room.

You had changed. Not just older, not just more poised. It was in the way you carried yourself, the way you commanded the stage with a presence that made every other woman in the world fade to nothing.

And your body. It was a marvel, showcased in shimmering fabric that clung to curves he remembered all too well.

Now you had fuller hips and softer edges; your body was made to be held. If he got his hands on you again, he knew there would be more of you to worship, to savor.

You weren’t that wide-eyed girl from Brooklyn anymore. And yet, you were still his Lark.

He saw the exact moment you felt his gaze, the subtle tension in your spine, the way your fingers curled just a little tighter around the mic. Even after all these years, you could still feel him.

Then your eyes found him in the dim glow of the club, and Bucky saw it, the sharp inhale, the slight part of your lips, as if you were about to say his name.

It was enough to make his chest ache.

—--

You should’ve kept walking.

You should’ve ignored the butterflies in your belly and that tingle in your back that only Bucky Barnes had been able to inspire.

But you didn’t.

Instead, after your set, you let your feet carry you straight to his table.

Bucky smirked, his fingers tapping lazily against the glass in front of him.

Like he knew you would come to him.

Six years gone, and yet the moment your eyes locked with his, it was like no time had passed at all. But you weren’t that girl anymore. And Bucky wasn’t that boy.

He was something else now. Something more defined. The suit fit too well, the watch on his wrist cost too much, and the men flanking him sat too still, waiting for his command.

Still, when he looked at you, it wasn’t the infamous new Capo of Las Vegas James Buchanan Barnes staring back.

It was him. Your Bucky.

The boy who once kissed you breathless in the back of a borrowed car.

The boy who called you ‘Baby’ like the word belonged to him.

The boy you left behind in the dead of night, never looking back.

Until now.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, keeping your voice steady.

His smile was the same one that decimated you back in the day.

“Funny,” he said, tapping ash from his cigarette. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Your stomach flipped, but you didn’t let it show.

Bucky had always been too good at reading you. Way too good. And then he did something dangerous. He nodded to the empty seat beside him.

“Sit with me, Doll.”

The way he said it, low and easy, like it was a foregone conclusion made your body obey like you had long ago. Your fingers twitched at your side. But instead of walking away, you lowered yourself into the seat beside him, your skin prickling with goosebumps under his gaze.

And when he smirked again, just a little, like he’d just won something, your breath hitched.

Because you both knew.

Six years apart hadn’t changed a gotdamn thing.

—--

The moment you sat down, you knew you’d already lost something. Maybe the upper hand, maybe your damn mind, but something shifted the second you met his eyes and made the choice to stay.

Bucky took another slow drag from his cigarette, like he was savoring this moment. He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, peering at you through it with those blue eyes, then finally turned to the two men sitting beside him, as if he’d just remembered they were there.

“Fellas,” he drawled, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray, “this here is Trouble.”

Your lips parted slightly, a profane retort ready to go, but before you could snap back, he continued.

“Trouble, this is Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.”

Steve, the blonde with the sharp blue eyes, nodded at you, his expression unreadable. He was the kind of man who didn’t say much but noticed everything.

Sam, on the other hand, smiled a beautiful gap-toothed grin.

“Trouble, huh?”

He extended a hand, and you hesitated before taking it, but his grip was warm and firm.

“I gotta say, any woman that can put that look on Barnes’ face is someone I gotta know.”

You arched a brow, tilting your head.

“And what look is that?”

Sam’s grin widened.

“Like he just won the jackpot.”

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your face neutral. Instead, you turned back to Bucky, leveling him with a look.

“Trouble?”

Bucky’s lips curled, and something wicked danced in his eyes.

“You always were.”

You didn’t blink.

“And you always loved it.”

There was a silence thick with sex between you, and again the other men were forgotten.

Then, Steve cleared his throat.

“How do you two know each other?”

Bucky chuckled darkly, and leaned back in his seat.

“Let’s just say…” His eyes met yours, heat simmering beneath the surface. “She used to belong to me.”

The words struck your chest like lightning. You’d learned enough curse words to set his head on fire since you’d known him last, but you didn’t lace the room with profanity.

Your fingers curled into a fist in your lap, but you kept your expression steady.

You weren’t the girl anymore who let Bucky Barnes own her with a smile and a whispered promise in the dark.

So you tilted your head, letting your lips curve.

“Used to,” you repeated, voice smooth as velvet. “Interesting choice of words.”

Bucky’s smile didn’t drop, but he clutched his glass tighter, and you saw the way his jaw ticked.

Sam let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the show.

“Damn. She’s quick.”

Steve, ever the observer, just watched the exchange with a smirk.

You leaned in slightly, just enough to make Bucky’s eyes flicker to your mouth and down to your cleavage before he dragged them back up.

“If I remember right, I was the one who left.”

Bucky exhaled a slow breath through his nose, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray again, his voice a shade lower now.

“That’s what you think?”

You raised a brow.

“That’s what I know.”

He made a sound low in his throat before taking another sip of his drink. He gazed at you like he was trying to figure out what to do with you now that you were sitting right in front of him again.

Then his eyes narrowed just a fraction.

“So tell me, Trouble. If you walked away so easy, why are you sitting here now?”

That’s the question, you thought.

So instead of answering, you reached for his glass, plucked it from his fingers, and took a slow sip before setting it back down.

Then you met his eyes and smiled.

“Maybe I just wanted to remind you,” you said softly. “That you don’t own me anymore.”

Bucky stared at you, unreadable. That muscle in his jaw twitched again.

Then, slowly, that wicked smirk crept back onto his face and he tilted his head at you, those blue eyes sparkling.

“We’ll see about that, Lark.”

—----

Bucky watched as you set his glass back down, the ghost of your lipstick staining the rim, taunting him. Six years apart, and you still knew how to get under his skin with a single look, a single move.

A single sentence.

Maybe I just wanted to remind you… that you don’t own me anymore.

You challenged him in ways no one else dared to. And Bucky fucking loved it.

Steve and Sam were watching, though they had the good sense to stay quiet. Sam was chuckling, and Steve’s face held a small crooked smile, one that appeared after Bucky said Lark.

Bucky didn’t give a damn about either of them right now.

His eyes stayed on you. You were trying to be tough, but you had to be feeling the same pull that he was. Bucky leaned forward, closing the space just enough to catch your scent and see your pupils blow wider.

Gotcha.

“Never needed to own you, Doll.”

His voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it.

“That was never the game.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you caught yourself, chucking your chin up instead.

“Then what was your game, James?”

He smiled again. He wasn’t about to hand you that answer.

Yet.

Instead, he sat back, dragging his gaze over you slowly, and licking his lips.

You were still the most beautiful thing in the damn room, and you had to know it. That dress, those eyes; every man in this club was probably watching you, and wanting you.

But only one of them had ever had you.

And only one of them was going to again.

He tapped his fingers once against the table before rising smoothly to his feet.

“C’mon.”

You blinked, “What?”

He nodded toward the back of the club, where the private booths were. Where you two could talk without an audience.

“Walk with me.”

A challenge. A test. A door you could still choose not to open.

Bucky saw you hesitate, for just a moment, but then you stood, smoothing out your dress and holding your head high like you hadn’t just made a decision that would change everything.

Bucky’s smirk widened.

That’s my girl.

—-

Bucky’s smirk deepened when you stood, like he’d known you would. That alone made something tighten in your chest, but you swallowed it down, lifting your chin as you followed him through the club.

The noise of the club, the conversations, the clinking of glasses, the jazz band, it all blurred as he led you toward the back, past the heavy velvet curtain that separated the VIP section from the private rooms. It infuriated you how easy it was to fall into step with him, how your body remembered before your mind could protest.

The moment you were away from prying eyes, he turned.

“You still listen like a Good Girl,” he murmured, voice smooth as smoke and just as dangerous.

You crossed your arms, shielding yourself from his stare as he leaned back against the small table between you, eyes skimming the curves of your dress like he had every right to.

“And you’re still a little asshole, Bucky.”

His smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened. He pulled out a cigarette, tapping it against his lighter before the soft flicker of flame cast his face in gold. He inhaled slow, exhaled even slower.

“I think you know I’m not ‘little,’ Baby,” he said, voice dipping lower. “Bet you that cunt still curves to my dick.”

You didn’t think. Your palm met his cheek in a resounding slap before you could stop it.

Bucky only grinned.

“You must wanna see if it’s true,” he murmured, stepping closer, “because you know that turns me on.”

Your breath hitched, anger curling hot in your gut, and you turned to leave, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, gentle but firm.

“Sorry, Doll.”

You knew he was anything but.

Although he let you go the moment you glared at his hand, the heat of his touch lingered.

“Stay,” he said, quieter this time. “I think we need to talk, don’t you?”

You lifted a brow. “About?”

He studied you like he was searching for the right words.

“You left Brooklyn.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a wound, still fresh after six years.

You met his stare, steady.

“I did.”

“Didn’t say a damn thing to me.”

You thought of the reason why, of the tiny heartbeat that changed your life forever, and you folded your arms tighter across your chest.

“Would it have mattered?”

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he took another drag of his cigarette.

“That’s cute, Doll.”

His voice was rough.

“You really think I would’ve let you go?”

Your stomach clenched, but you didn’t flinch.

“That might be why I didn’t tell you.”

His jaw ticked, frustration creeping into the lines of his face. He leaned in, forearms bracing against the table, his eyes locking onto yours.

“You ran. Fine.”

His voice was softer now, laced with something you couldn’t name.

“But tell me this. Was it worth it?”

The air left your lungs. You thought of why you ran. What was expected of you. What would’ve happened if you’d stayed.

Six years of building a life from scratch. Six years of trying to convince yourself you made the right choice. Six years of missing him. Six years of seeing his eyes every day both in your dreams and when you woke.

“Absolutely.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered, searching your face for something, doubt, regret, a lie. But he didn’t find it.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he said, “You were mine.”

You exhaled slowly.

“I’m not sorry for what I did, Bucky. But I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

You meant it. Every word.

But you belonged to someone else now. Someone more important than James Barnes.

—---

Bucky’s eyes flashed, then he sat back in his seat, appraising you yet again.

“It’s okay, Doll. I turned out okay. And here we are, together again.”

“We’re not together, Bucky.”

He took another drag of his smoke.

“Only a matter of time, Baby.”

You took a breath, steadying yourself, lifting your chin.

“I have another set.”

Bucky smiled at you.

“I know.”

Of course, he knew. He ran this town and he always paid attention, always saw more than you wanted him to.

You stood, ready to walk away, to put some space between the past and the present before you lost yourself in it again. But before you could take a step, something small and cool slid against your palm.

You looked down.

A key.

Bucky’s fingers lingered over yours just long enough to make your pulse jump. He looked into your eyes and leaned down and it was like your lips were connected by magnets.

He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes and regrets as his tongue slid into your mouth, establishing ownership yet again.

He pulled back and rested his forehead on yours.

“Royal Sierra Hotel. Top floor,” he gruffed. “I’ll be waiting.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You should have dropped the key right back into his palm. Should have told him no, should have walked away, should have done a thousand things.

But you did none of them. You just curled your fingers around the key, just for a second, then slipped it into your dress pocket like it meant nothing.

Bucky didn’t call you on it. Didn’t press. He just smiled, slow and knowing, then stepped back.

“See you soon, Doll.”

Then he was gone, and you were left standing there, with a key in your pocket and a storm in your chest, knowing damn well you were about to make a mistake.

——

Your second set of the night flew by in a blur. Your voice soared through the rafters, full of emotion, carrying the weight of things you couldn’t say out loud. The memories all spilled into the songs, wrapped in melodies that weren’t yours but might as well have been.

You poured your soul into every note, and the crowd felt it. They responded with enthusiastic applause and with generosity for the waitresses and bartenders. At the end of the night, the club manager pressed extra bills into your hand, murmuring something about record-breaking tips.

You barely heard him.

Your mind was already made up.

You stepped out into the cool night air, exhaling as you raised your hand to hail a cab, but before you could, a smooth voice cut through the darkness.

“Need a ride?”

You turned, heels clicking against the pavement as you took in the sight before you.

Steve Rogers, all broad shoulders and quiet authority, leaned against a gleaming black Continental, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Your brows lifted.

“Didn’t peg you for a chauffeur.”

Steve chuckled.

“Just trying to be nice.”

He nodded toward the passenger seat.

“We’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Your gaze shifted past him to Sam, watching you from inside the car, his smile just visible through the window.

“And if I need to go home?” you asked, testing.

Steve shrugged.

“Then we’ll take the lady home. But if you’re looking for a little more excitement…”

“We know a place or two,” Sam finished, his voice tinged with amusement.

Despite yourself, you smiled. You liked them. Even if they were Bucky’s men, and even if they saw more than they let on.

“I’ll take you up on that,” you said, sighing as you stepped forward.

“Standing on a stage in heels all night isn’t exactly easy on the legs.”

Steve’s gaze flickered down, tracing the slit in your dress, lingering just long enough to make your pulse skip.

“Those legs look just fine to me,” he murmured.

You arched a brow. Was Steve Rogers flirting with you? And was Sam giving you the same once over from the passenger seat?

And more importantly, what would Bucky do if he knew?

You didn’t have time to wonder. Steve was already holding the door open, waiting. You slid inside, sinking into the plush leather seats, and shot him a tired, knowing smile as he shut the door behind you.

He climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted the mirror, his eyes catching yours in the reflection.

“Which way, Miss Y/L/N?”

You hesitated.

Bucky was making this hard.

You closed your eyes, reaching back, searching for the girl you were six years ago. The girl who ran. The girl who had every reason to. But she was gone, her memories worn thin, fragile as cigarette paper.

You could stand to make some new ones.

And they would have to last. Because this would only be one night.

“The Royal Sierra,” you said softly.

Steve’s lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You two do this often?” you asked as the car rumbled to life.

Steve and Sam exchanged a glance, the kind that spoke volumes.

“I’ve known Bucky for three years,” Sam said, voice lighter than his meaning. “And I’ve never seen him give a woman the time of daylight.”

You let out a soft laugh.

“It’s nighttime, Sam.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning.

“He’s never introduced me to a dame before. Plenty have tried to get to him through us, but he doesn’t let ‘em. He just shoos ‘em off like stray dogs.”

Sam’s smirk deepened.

“But you? You’re different.”

Something in your chest tightened. You turned toward the back of Steve’s head.

“What about you, Mr. Rogers?”

Steve cleared his throat, his hands flexing on the wheel.

“I’ve known Buck since we were kids in Brooklyn,” he said after a pause.

“And he’s only ever talked about one woman to me.”

The weight of his words settled over you. He didn’t have to say it. You knew.

Steve’s voice was softer when he added, “But he stopped talking about her about five and a half years ago.”

Your heart clenched.

You didn’t ask any more questions after that. You just let the city lights blur past the window, let the neon colors bleed together as they carried you to the man waiting at the top of the Royal Sierra.

Waiting for you.

——-

The Royal Sierra was a loud kind of quiet. The kind that came from power. Bucky’s kind of place.

Steve pulled up to the entrance, stepping out with effortless authority, like he’d done it a thousand times before. Like he belonged here. Like you belonged here. No one stopped you. No one asked questions.

His presence alone was a key. A shield.

Bucky Barnes’ reach extended farther than Mr. Crow’s.

Before you knew it, you were stepping into the elevator, watching the floors tick by, your pulse a slow, deliberate drum in your throat. And by the time you reached the penthouse, your body had made a decision your mind refused to acknowledge.

You lifted a gloved hand and slid the key into the lock.

The door opened instantly.

And then, there was Bucky.

His gaze collided with yours, stealing the air from your lungs. He didn’t move. Just stood there, watching you, burning you into his memory like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

Then his hands were on you.

Your gasp was swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, desperate and deep, like he had something to prove, like he needed you to know that six years hadn’t dulled his hunger for you.

You melted, even though you knew better.

You knew this was dangerous. That this wasn’t just about lust, or longing, or the years between you. But none of it mattered as you wound your arms around him, tangling your fingers in the dark curls you missed too damn much.

Bucky groaned, dragging you flush against him. His hands roamed lower, exploring this new version of you, the one with fuller curves, wider hips, a body that had known things he hadn’t been there to witness.

He needed to erase it all.

He deepened the kiss, his breath ragged as he backed you against the wall, pinning you there, swallowing the soft sound you made.

God, that sound.

He had dreamed about it.

You pulled back. Your lips were swollen, your breath uneven, you were beautiful. But there was something else in your eyes.

A flicker of hesitation.

Bucky smirked.

He didn’t want to talk. Not tonight. He wanted to taste you, to relearn every inch of you.

He brought your hand up to his mouth, taking the glove off your hand with his teeth, one finger at a time.

Your mind short circuited, forgetting what you wanted to say, the only thought that your panties would burst into flames, but the liquid at your center would surely put the fire out.

Bucky Barnes was still so goddamn hot.

“You staying?”

His voice was hoarse with desire.

Your lips parted slightly. Then, slowly, you nodded. That was all he needed.

With deliberate slowness, he backed you toward the couch, his blue eyes never leaving yours.

He didn’t know why you left.

Didn’t know why you were in Vegas.

Didn’t know how long he had.

And tonight, he wasn’t asking.

"Missed this," he murmured against your throat, his breath hot, his fingers digging into the roundness of your ass. His voice sent a shiver down your spine.

He turned you, fingers finding the zipper of your dress. You felt it slide down, the cool air kissing your bare skin as the rich fabric slipped from your shoulders, revealing the decadent silk and lace beneath.

Bucky let out a rough exhale.

The longline bra molded perfectly to your curves, the underwire and boning lifting your breasts high, the lace trim barely concealing your peaked nipples. The silk garter belt cinched your waist, accentuating the swell of your hips, its straps fastened to sheer stockings that clung to your legs like a whisper.

Bucky groaned low in his throat, his hands ghosting over your sides, gripping, kneading.

“Jesus, Doll… you always did know how to drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he rasped.

He trailed a finger along the edge of your bra, teasing you through the lace with his knuckles grazing the soft swell of your breast.

“Look at you… all wrapped up like a goddamn present,” he muttered, voice thick with reverence.

His hands slid down, and his thumbs traced slow, reverent paths along the edge of your garter, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin of your thighs. He tilted his head, lips curving against your jaw.

“Been dreamin’ about this,” he whispered, voice dripping with possession.

“And now it’s real.”

You shivered beneath his touch, and Bucky smirked, satisfied. He trailed his fingers lower, slipping beneath the garter belt to palm your ass, squeezing greedily, pulling you flush against him.

“Missed these fuckin’ curves,” he groaned, rolling his hips against you, letting you feel just how hard he was, how much he needed you.

He was losing patience. Six years was too damn long.

His hands found the hooks of your bra, and he made quick work of them, peeling the garment from your body and tossing it over his shoulder. He pulled back for just a second, just long enough to admire the sight of you, bare, breathless, your eyes fully dilated.

“Damn, Doll” he whispered, voice almost reverent.

Then his mouth was on you, trailing down your neck hotly, over your collarbone, lower, until his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking, groaning when your fingers tangled in his hair, when your body arched into his mouth.

“Feel so good,” he murmured against your skin, voice wrecked.

His hands roamed lower, curling around your thighs, gripping hard as he lifted you effortlessly, walking you backward until your spine hit the cool surface of the wall.

Bucky looked up at you then, eyes burning, voice nothing but gravel.

“Hold on tight, Baby. I ain’t letting you go this time.

Bucky pressed a kiss into you, his hard length grinding against your soaked panties. The heat of him, the sheer size of him, had you trembling.

"Need inside you, Doll… so fucking hard for you," he groaned, his voice rough with need.

You gasped as he rocked into you, your damp panties and his boxers doing little to separate the friction between you. Your hips rolled in response, dragging a throaty grunt from his lips.

"Fuck!"

Bucky hooked a finger into your panties, yanking them to the side. The first brush of his bare cock against your slick folds sent a shudder through you. It was heaven. The aching kind. The kind you felt.

"Bucky, please!"

You needed to feel him again after so long.

His thick cock slid through your folds, coating himself in your arousal, teasing your clit with every slow stroke. You felt everything, the ridges, the veins, the swollen head nudging at your entrance.

At the same time, his mouth latched onto your nipple, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. His calloused fingers kneaded the roundness of your ass, pulling unashamed whimpers from your throat.

"Mine," Bucky growled.

Your breath hitched. But just as you prepared for that first, deep thrust, he pulled back.

You gasped in protest.

"Gonna fuck you proper, though. In a bed."

You let out a breathless laugh as Bucky scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to his bedroom. He laid you out, spreading your legs as he loomed over you, devouring the sight. His manicured nails dragged over your thighs in a slow, teasing stroke.

Your breath stuttered with anticipation.

"Be a good girl for me," he murmured, eyes dark with intent. "And grab my hair if you need to."

Confusion flickered in your eyes, until you felt your legs being thrown over his shoulders. Then, Bucky was between your thighs.

You scrambled up on your elbows, heat rushing to your face as he spread you open with two fingers, stroking the sensitive, slick folds hidden beneath. His gaze locked onto your glistening sex, mesmerized.

"So beautiful, Lark."

Your breath came in shallow gasps as he ran his fingers through your wetness, spreading it.

"So wet… dripping… coating my fingers, Baby."

The filthy words, the intensity of his stare, made fresh arousal seep from you. Your inner walls clenched around nothing, aching for more.

"Pinch those nipples for me," Bucky rasped,

Your lips parted in shock, but his stare was unwavering. With a shaky breath, you obeyed.

The added sensation sent pleasure rippling through you, making your back arch, your ass pressing into the mattress as Bucky pumped his fingers nice and slow. The other hand fisted around his cock, stroking in time with the movement inside you.

Your gaze dropped to watch him touch himself as he touched you. Fuck.

A gush of slick spilled from you. Bucky cursed under his breath, scissoring his fingers, stretching you, preparing you.

"So fucking tight, Doll. Need to get you ready."

Then, his head dipped lower. Your gasp filled the room. Bucky smirked.

"Why so shocked?" he taunted. "You act like you haven’t had sex since I borrowed Johnny’s car—"

He stopped.

Your face must have given you away because his own softened instantly.

"Oh, shit."

His tone was different now, understanding.

"It’s okay, Baby. I got you."

Determination flashed in his blue eyes as he leaned down again, brushing a featherlight kiss against your most sensitive place. It was intimate. Like he was kissing your mouth.

Then, he licked into you, slow and deliberate, and your world shattered. Lightning coursed through your veins as your thighs instinctively clamped around his head. Your fingers fisted in his curls, tugging mercilessly.

Bucky groaned in approval, his tongue swirling, sucking, worshiping. Every swipe, every firm drag, every deep flick had you writhing beneath him, riding his face, chasing oblivion.

When he pried your thighs apart and plunged two fingers back inside, curling them just right, you detonated.

Your orgasm ripped through you, your body seizing, your walls fluttering around his fingers as a flood of wetness spilled into his mouth.

"Bucky!"

He pulled back, lips glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction.

"S’okay, Baby. It’s natural."

Then he leaned down again. And drank from you like a man dying of thirst.

You whimpered, overwhelmed, your body trembling as he held you down, refusing to let you escape. The overstimulation was brutal, unbearable.

Too much, too good.

"Really have been such a good girl for me…" he murmured against your sensitive skin.

Then, his voice dropped to something sinful.

"Gonna give you this cock you been waiting for."

When he finally kissed you, his lips slick with you, the last shred of restraint dissolved.

You moaned into his mouth as he lined himself up, dragging the thick, swollen head of his cock through your drenched folds. He parted your lips, teasing you with tiny, torturous strokes. Then, with a sharp slap, he tapped his cock against your clit, making you cry out.

"Shit, Doll…"

Bucky’s voice was strained, his jaw tight as he fought for control. You rolled your hips, desperate, pleading.

"Inside, please!"

"You’re gonna feel… so… goodddd…"

He bit it out through clenched teeth as he pushed forward slow, steady, and stretching you inch by inch. You choked on a moan as he filled you. He was so big. You had forgotten how thick, how deep, how perfect he felt inside you.

"Ohhhhhh, Bucky!"

"Right here, Baby."

His eyes locked onto you, greedily drinking in your bouncing breasts, your trembling stomach, the way your body took him. The sight alone nearly ended him. His head dropped back, his grip on you tightening as he bottomed out, grinding his hips into yours, making you wail in pleasure.

"You feel amazing… so fucking good. Never felt anything like this, I swear, Lark."

Your walls clenched around him, and Bucky’s face twisted, his control slipping.

"I need you to cum all over my dick."

You gasped as his hand found your clit, circling it with the same practiced precision that always ruined you. His other hand pinched your nipple, sending another bolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Cum for me, Doll."

You had no choice. Your body seized, pleasure obliterating you as you came, gushing around his cock, wave after wave of ecstasy rolling through you.

Bucky’s grip turned bruising as he drove into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His breath caught.

"Mine!" he growled.

And his release filled you, thick and hot, as his body shuddered violently against yours.

And in that moment, tangled together, sweat-slicked and sated, you both knew

You were his again.

—--

Bucky collapsed beside you, chest heaving, staring blankly at the ceiling.

You did the same, but while he was basking in the afterglow, warmth spreading through his chest like hope, your stomach twisted into knots.

"Where you going, Lark?"

His voice was thick with exhaustion, but he still caught the way you shifted, the way your body tensed before you sat up.

"Bathroom," you murmured, already moving. "Need to clean up."

Something flickered in his eyes, something soft, something real. But the moment you slipped away, his hope dimmed just a little.

You disappeared into the harsh fluorescent glow of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

—--

Bucky sat at the edge of the bed, watching as you slipped your shoes back on. You moved quickly, deliberately. Like you’d planned your exit before you ever walked through his door.

"You don’t have to run out like this," he said, voice rough.

You hesitated, just for a second, before fastening your coat.

"I have to get home."

Bucky’s fingers flexed against the sheets.

"Home."

He rolled the word over his tongue. He didn’t like the way it tasted.

Your gaze lifted, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered there, regret, and sorrow buried so deep he almost missed it.

Bucky nodded, jaw tight. He had questions. Too many. But he knew you wouldn’t answer them.

So he let you go.

But that didn’t mean he was letting this go.

—-----

Bucky sat in the back of the Continental, silent as Steve drove.

He hadn’t said a word since Steve muttered, “I’ll take you to where she lives.”

Vegas never slept, but the streets were quiet this early. Bucky stared out the window, jaw clenched.

He should’ve stopped you from leaving. Should’ve asked the damn questions instead of letting you walk out. But you were good at slipping away. You’d done it before.

Not this time.

Steve glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"You sure about this?"

Bucky’s eyes stayed on the road ahead.

"Just drive."

Steve sighed but didn’t argue. The car veered off the Strip, where the lights weren’t as bright, where the buildings weren’t as tall, where the money wasn’t as loud. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but it sure as hell wasn’t where Bucky expected you to be.

The car slowed.

A modest duplex came into view, its porch light flickering on.

Bucky barely registered anything beyond you were here. Until he saw the front door open.

You stepped out, wrapped in a housecoat, makeup gone, hair wrapped in a scarf. Then you walked to the neighboring unit. And knocked. The door cracked open.

And out ran a little boy.

Bucky sat up straighter, his breath hitching as the kid bolted toward you, dark messy hair bouncing, big blue eyes shining as he laughed, launching himself into your waiting arms.

You caught him effortlessly, hugging him close, whispering something into his ear.

Like you’d done it a thousand times before.

Because you had.

The realization hit like a bullet to the ribs.

You had a son.

Bucky’s world tilted.

Then, the boy’s voice, small and sleepy, carried through the quiet street.

"Mama, you’re home."

His breath left him in a rush.

"Yes, Jamie, I’m home."

Steve tensed, hands gripping the wheel.

Bucky’s hands curled into fists.

"Buck—"

"Drive," he rasped. The word barely made it past his lips.

Steve hesitated.

"Now."

The car pulled away, but Bucky’s eyes stayed locked on you.

Six years.

Six years, and you had kept this from him.

—---

The moment Jamie crashed into your arms, the world melted away.

"Mama, you’re home!"

You exhaled shakily, smoothing his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Miss Thea stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her housecoat, watching with quiet understanding. She didn’t ask questions. Never had. Just gave you a slow nod before retreating inside.

Jamie yawned, burrowing into your shoulder, his little arms tightening around your neck.

"You smell funny," he mumbled sleepily.

You huffed a quiet laugh, shifting him in your arms.

"Yeah? What do I smell like?"

Jamie blinked up at you, barely awake.

"Like trouble," he sighed.

Your breath caught.

A chill danced down your spine, one you always felt when Bucky was near. Slowly, your eyes lifted, scanning the street.

Nothing. No car. No sign of him. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been here.

You swallowed hard, clutching Jamie closer as you stepped inside, locking the door behind you. You couldn’t shake the feeling.

Bucky knew.

And no matter how much you wanted to believe you could keep him away….You knew better.

James Buchanan Barnes was coming for you.

For both of you.

——-

Read The Trouble With Love Is

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nyrasvoid · 3 months ago

Text

To Tame a Dragon

♡ Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

𖤓 Summary: As the firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra, you and your family are summoned to King’s Landing under mysterious circumstances. Upon your arrival, you quickly discover that you’re betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, your strange uncle who never seemed to have an ounce of affection for you.

⚝ Warnings: Arranged marriage, Aemond being a cruel and possessive husband, degradation (uses of “slut” and “whore”), smut (with another lord for now but very short), manipulation, angst, toxic relationships, dub-con elements, slow burn and kinda enemies to lovers dynamic.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊ A/N: for now they kinda hate eachother and reader has a lover but dw cause she will actually end up with Aemond lol. Also if you have any suggestions for the following parts my inbox is open

Also I imagine lord Garrick as Jake Gyllenhaal but imagine him however u like lol

⭑ Word count: ≈2.3k

You and your family had arrived at King’s Landing under strange circumstances. The journey from Dragonstone had been long and tiring, and yet, no one could tell you exactly why you were being summoned to the Red Keep. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had tried to get answers, but no one seemed willing to speak plainly to her.

The moment you set foot on the steps of the Red Keep, you noticed it: their cold indifference. The greens did not welcome you, did not offer the courtesy that you expected from family. It was as if you and your kin had been erased from the family tree entirely.

“You see that?” Your brother Jacaerys whispered, his voice laced with disgust as he looked toward the hall where Aegon and the others stood. “Not a single one of them steps forward to greet us.”

Daemon, walking beside him, clenched his jaw. “They think us beneath them.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice, his words carrying the sting of resentment. “They are reminding us of who they believe holds the true power.”

Your mother’s eyes flashed with a quiet fury, but she said nothing, instead leading the way.

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As you were escorted to your chambers by a guard, you exchanged a glance with your maid Ella, your trusted friend who had accompanied you on this journey. She followed you inside, her steps quick as she moved to help you settle.

“What do you think this is all about?” you asked her, your voice tight with frustration. “Why have we been summoned here?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, my lady. They haven’t said anything to me. But there is a feast tonight. That’s all I was told.” Her hands worked to remove your traveling cloak. “Let me help you get ready.”

You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. “A feast? At a time like this?”

She gave you a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s tradition, princess. You must attend.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was little you could do. You had to go. You had to pretend to care for the show, though your mind was filled with only one thing: why were you here?

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The banquet hall was filled with lords and ladies, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and wine. You sat at the long table, feeling a knot of tension in your stomach. You couldn’t help but feel small in the green’s presence, especially as Aegon’s gaze drifted over you.

But the worst of it was Aemond. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, but you refused to meet his gaze.

As you conversed with your brothers, the topic of the greens came up once again.

“Look at them,” Jace muttered, his voice low. “They think they can get away with this. Not even a word of greeting when we arrive.”

“They can all rot,” you said bitterly. “I can’t stand any of them.”

Daemon smirked. “But that’s what they want, isn’t it? They want us angry. They want us to break.”

You nodded, a sense of frustration building in your chest. “I refuse to bend to them. But I can’t even figure out why we’re here. What do they want from us?”

Before anyone could answer, a voice interrupted.

“Princess,” a lord from one of the great houses stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

You blinked in surprise, but a smile quickly tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’d be delighted.”

The lord’s hand was warm as it held yours, and the two of you made your way to the dance floor. He was handsome, tall and with a charming smile that made your heart flutter. As the music played, you flirted with him lightly, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your waist and the way he made you forget about the tension at the table.

But across the room, you couldn’t ignore the sharp gaze of Aemond. It burned through you, dark and possessive.

Aegon, ever the troublemaker, leaned toward his brother, a smirk on his lips. “You know,” he said loud enough for Aemond to hear, “if you’re not going to make a move, I’ll happily do it. She’s got quite the figure, doesn’t she? Those breasts, I’m sure you’ve noticed. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her for myself, brother.”

“I think I’m capable enough of fulfilling my marital duties, brother” Aemond finally muttered, his eyes locked onto you with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

You returned to your seat after the dance, still smiling from the interaction, only for the King to call for silence. The room fell still, all eyes on him as he stood, ready to make his announcement.

“My lords and ladies,” the King’s voice echoed across the hall, “I have an important announcement to make. It is with great pride that I announce the betrothal of my granddaughter, to my son, prince Aemond Targaryen.”

You looked to your mother, but she was frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Rhaenyra stood, her voice shaking with fury. “What is this? You did not consult me, didn’t even let me know this decision was being made. You rejected my proposal years ago of marryimg Helaena to Jace, and now—”

But the King cut her off. “The decision is final, they will marry. The advantages to the realm are clear.”

Rhaenyra’s hands curled into fists. “You think I’ll allow this?” she hissed. “You think I’ll stand by and let you make this decision without my consent?”

“Enough,” the King snapped, his voice cold. “This is for the good of the realm.”

The tension in the room was palpable as your brothers attempted to speak on your behalf, but the King remained unmoved.

You felt your heart break. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say a word as you watched the man who had always been indifferent, cruel even, be forced into your future.

You stood quickly as you stormed out of the hall. You couldn’t stay there, couldn’t bear to hear any more.

You reached your chambers, the door slamming shut behind you as you threw yourself onto the bed, tears spilling from your eyes.

Not long after, you heard a knock at the door.

It was your mother, entering the room quietly. “Darling, I know this is difficult,” she said softly, her voice gentle. “But you must understand… this betrothal—it’s for the good of the realm. You will see that, in time.”

You wiped your tears angrily. “I don’t care about the realm, mother! I don’t want this. I don’t want him!”

Your mother sat beside you, taking your hand in hers. “I know. I know, my sweet girl. But this is the way it must be. For now, we endure.”

You shook your head, still crying quietly. “I don’t want to endure this. I don’t want him.”

She gave you a sad smile, kissing your forehead. “It’s not about what we want. It’s about what we must do.”

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The sun hung high in the sky as you met with your closest friends. Floris Baratheon, Lysa Tully, and Serene Martell were already sitting under the large oak tree. It was supposed to be a relaxing break from the madness of your betrothal.

“We heard, my lady. About the betrothal. How are you feeling?” Floris asked, her voice full of concern. She was always so direct, unlike Lysa, who was quieter but equally perceptive.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, taking a seat next to them. “It feels like my life is already over before it’s even begun. I’m being forced to marry Aemond. A man I barely know, a man who doesn’t care about me. I don’t even have a say in it.”

Serene, leaned in. “Well, your life might not be over just yet. You always have the option of finding yourself a lover.”

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at that. “A lover?” you echoed. “Maybe I could find one.”

Lysa chuckled. “Well, I’ve heard things about Aemond. The rumors say he’s cruel, that he’s got a temper, that he punishes those who displease him.”

Floris nodded, her brows furrowed. “I’ve heard those rumors too. And honestly? I don’t blame you for being upset. Who wants to marry someone like that?”

You sighed heavily. “It’s like my whole future has been decided for me. I can’t escape it.”

Serene raised an eyebrow playfully. “At least you’ve got options, my lady. You’re not trapped in the same way as us. Who knows? Maybe that lord you danced with at the feast would be the one to give you the freedom you’re looking for.”

Your heart skipped at the mention of Lord Garrick Redwyne, who had captivated you at the last feast. He was bold, charming, and you could tell he also took an interest in you.

“You know, you might be right,” you said, trying to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “I did meet a very handsome lord at the dance. Lord Garrick Redwyne. We danced and… well, maybe he could be the one to offer me some much needed distraction.”

Floris snorted. “Aemond can’t even stand a chance against someone like him. I mean, honestly, have you seen Aemond? I’m sure he’s not good for much other than looking brooding and scary with that missing eye of his.”

Lysa and Serene laughed in agreement. “You should go for it,” Serene added, her voice low but encouraging. “Let him give you what Aemond never will.”

You paused, your mind racing. “I think I just might. It would be nice to have a taste of freedom before I’m locked in a marriage with a man who looks at me like I’m nothing more than a political pawn.”

The conversation turned lighter as you all continued to joke about the idea of lovers, but little did you know, one of the queen’s maids had been standing nearby, overhearing every word. The whispers would soon reach Aemond.

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Later that afternoon, you were summoned to meet with Alicent and some of the workers to begin organizing the wedding.

Alicent wasted no time in pushing her own ideas. “I trust you’re prepared to make the necessary sacrifices for the good of the realm,” she said sharply, eyes narrowing as she gestured to the workers. “This wedding must reflect the union of two great houses.”

You bit your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “I understand, Your Grace. But I’d like to choose the color of my dress. I’d prefer red and gold.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to you, her lips curling in a thin smile. “Red and gold? You do realize that’s a bold choice, don’t you? Quite revealing for a wedding dress.”

“Why, does it offend you?” you told her, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

“You are marrying my son, dear. A dress of green would be more appropriate.” Alicent’s tone was firm.

You crossed your arms, standing your ground. “I will not wear green. I refuse. If I must marry him, I at least want some control over my dress.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, but your defiance seemed to catch her off guard. She stared at you for a moment, then finally sighed. “Very well, but make sure it isn’t too revealing.”

You smiled, knowing you’d won this battle, even if it was a small one. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

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That evening, as the grand hall filled with the sounds of laughter, you were heading to your brother Jacaerys to ask him something about the upcoming wedding preparations. But just as you were about to step inside, you spotted Lord Garrick Redwyne once more.

He smiled at you, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “Ah, princess, how wonderful to see you again.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race at the sight of him. His charm was undeniable.

“Lord Garrick,” you replied, smiling back. “I was just about to speak with my brother, but I’m glad to see you.”

His smile grew wider as he took a step closer. “Would you care to accompany me for a moment? Away from the crowds?”, he said as he extended his arm for you to hold onto.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”, as you wrapped your arm around his and followed his lead.

He led you through the castle, past the grand halls and into a quieter corridor.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Lord Garrick said, his voice low as he wrapped his hands around your waist. “I can’t help but wonder what it would be like… to have you, without all the politics, without the pressure of your betrothal.”

You took a deep breath, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” you murmured, your eyes locked on his.

Without another word, he kissed you—softly at first and then more passionately as the moments stretched. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as his lips moved to your neck. You let out a soft gasp, feeling a shiver run through you.

He moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck, and you gasped softly as he nipped at your skin. His hands were firm, his lips traveled lower still.

His mouth found its way to your most intimate place, and the pleasure was overwhelming, like nothing you had ever felt before. You moaned quietly, afraid of who might hear. You’d waited too long to feel this kind of release, this freedom.

When it was over, you both sat on the cool floor, catching your breath. “That was… incredible,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

Lord Garrick smiled, kissing your forehead softly. “I will be here whenever you need me, my lady.”

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget about Aemond, about the marriage that awaited you. With Garrick, there was no cruelty, no coldness. There was only heat, passion, and the feeling of being wanted for who you were.

As he gave you pleasure, you couldn’t help but think: Maybe I can have a life outside of Aemond, even if it’s only in stolen moments like this.

♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜

The air in the gardens was thick with tension as you walked beside Aemond, the silence between you two almost suffocating. You weren’t looking forward to this forced interaction, but here you were, ordered by the queen to “get to know” the man you were supposed to marry. You had no interest in being his bride, and certainly no desire to get to know him any better.

Aemond’s gaze flicked to you now and then, but you refused to look at him. Finally, after a long silence, Aemond broke it.

“Tell me, why do you always wear that look?” Aemond’s voice broke the silence, his words laced with bitterness. “You’ve been sent here to wed me, yet I don’t see a single ounce of enthusiasm in your expression.”

You didn’t even glance at him as you walked, keeping your pace slow. “Maybe because I have been forced into this marriage” you shot back, the bitterness in your own voice matching his.

“I don’t owe you any pleasantries.”

His lips twisted into a small smirk, though it lacked any real humor. “Of course, you don’t. I suppose that’s why you’ve taken to speaking about me behind my back—saying things I’m sure you think I don’t know.”

You froze. Aemond wasn’t looking at you directly, his gaze focused ahead. You clenched your fists, not willing to let him know he’d struck a nerve.

“What are you talking about?” you spat, though you had a pretty good idea. The rumors, the jokes from your friends… Had they reached him already?

He shot you a glance then, eyes narrowing. “I heard you’ve found yourself someone to entertain you. I suppose it must be rather entertaining to joke about your… lovers.”

Your breath hitched. “What are you insinuating, Aemond?” you asked.

Aemond’s voice dropped to a low tone. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know exactly what I heard. You think I don’t know you’re running around with some other man behind my back? I heard of your little conversation with your friends in the garden. You’re quite the whore, aren’t you? Laughing about my missing eye and discussing your lover like it’s nothing.”

Your jaw clenched at his words. Whore. He had no right to talk to you like that. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “You have no right of speaking to me in such way.”

You glared at him. “You want to talk about my lover? Fine. I’ll tell you everything. He makes me feel things you could never,” you hissed, taking a step even closer to him. “In fact, I’ve already lost my maidenhood to him.” Lies.

“You think that’s something to be proud of?” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re nothing more than a filthy, loose woman, and you’ll regret every second of it once you’re tied to me.”

“You think I’ll regret it?” you snapped back, “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Aemond. I don’t regret anything. Not my lover, not anything I’ve done before now. You’re just angry because I’ve found someone who actually knows how to please a woman.” That said, you turned around to retire to your chambers.

Aemond’s expression twisted into anger. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed your arm, spinning you towards him, forcing you into the nearest wall. You gasped in shock as Aemond pinned you against it. His grip was tight as he pressed you there, his face inches from yours.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Aemond growled. He gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. into a bush, his body trapping you against it. “Let me tell you something, princess,” Aemond whispered into your ear, he leaned in closer. “I’ll put a baby in you, and once you’re carrying my child, I won’t touch you again. You’ll be nothing but a vessel for my heir. And when you’re knocked up and useless to me, I’ll get myself a whore. A woman who knows her place. And I’ll bring her to the Red Keep, rub her in your face, and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

You were petrified as he pinned you against the wall, but he wasn’t finished. “If I find out who your lover is, if I find out you’ve been seeing him behind my back, I’ll make sure you never see him again. I’ll have him dragged out and humiliated, and you’ll never be able to hide from it. You’ll regret every little thing you’ve done.”

Aemond took a step forward, forcing you to tilt your head up to keep your glare locked onto his.

“You think you can humiliate me?” His voice was quiet. “That you can make a mockery of this betrothal? Of me?”

You scoffed, “You’re doing that all on your own, Aemond. If you’re so offended, then call off the wedding.”, you continued “You are a man, a prince I’m sure they will call it of if you object”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You think I would let you go that easily?” He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “You are mine now. No matter how much you fight it, no matter how much you despise me, you will stand beside me as my wife.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the way he said mine, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you.

“You can have my hand in marriage, Aemond,” you bit out, “but you will never have me.”

Aemond let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that, wife.”

He turned on his heel, walking away without another word, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding in your chest.

♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜

#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon s2

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azzibuckets · 4 months ago

Text

sweet [part one]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: a very sweet story of paige and azzi from best friends to lovers 🥰

a/n: lowkey came up with this on a whim bc yall know how much i love angsty pazzi…probably gonna make this into a short series so lmk if you all want another part :)

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

“Ella said she’s worried about you.”

As Paige hovers over her, propped up by a pillow on one side, Azzi thinks that Ella might not have been as dumb as she’d thought. Here she is, with her best friend, in only a sports bra and sweats so low that they’re barely clinging onto her hips. The best friend in question is leaning on her elbow, one hand splayed across Azzi’s bare abdomen, a smirk on her face as soft strands of blonde hair tickle the younger girl’s face.

Azzi slots her leg in between Paige’s, drawing her impossibly closer. “Why would she ever say that?” She asks teasingly, the corner of her lips tugging up.

Paige’s smirk grows dangerous. Her eyes drag down Azzi’s body, doing a slow perusal of Azzi’s chest. “This doesn’t look close to you?”

Azzi tilts her head, batting her big brown eyes under her full eyelashes. “Who cares? I mean, it’s not like you two are dating or anything.” But knowing Paige’s tendency to hide sensitive topics from her until the last moment, her tone drops. “Are you?”

“No.” Paige laughs. “Just fucking around.” Her hands slide lower down Azzi’s stomach, until her thumb is caressing the dip of her V-line.

Azzi holds her breath, trying to ignore the fire uncurling in her stomach. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“I don’t know.” Paige withdraws her hand, replacing it with her head as she settles on Azzi’s chest with a sigh. The action is so casual, so familiar that it makes Azzi’s heart hurt. Sex with Paige is one thing. Intimacy like this, where she can feel her bare skin against Paige’s, feel Paige’s heartbeat, as they lie together, legs intertwined and breaths in sync? That’s a whole other ballpark.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Paige admits, her voice slightly muffled as she speaks into Azzi’s chest. “She confuses me.”

Azzi almost scoffs out loud at the irony. Paige hs always been hot and cold, flirting with Azzi one moment and giving her a look that Azzi swears is only reserved for her, but chatting it up with another girl at the bar the next. It feels like a constant back and forth with her best friend. Sometimes it feels like Paige has her heart on a pendulum, has been since she was 16, yet lately it’s felt like it’s been ricocheting out of control, the string slowly turning into a thread.

“I think she thinks I’m in love with you or some shit.” Paige has been yapping for the last few minutes as Azzi’s lost herself in her thoughts, but it’s this sentence, thrown out so callously, that freezes her blood. “Which is, like ridiculous, you know?”

Azzi struggles to catch her next breath. But Paige has turned her head and is looking at her now, expecting her to say something, so she forces out a dry laugh. “Yeah,” she mutters. Clearing her throat, she forces herself to steady her voice. “No yeah, that’s crazy.” Azzi is confident - she knows she’s drop dead gorgeous, knows she could mess around with as many guys or girls as she’d want. And she knows full well the effect she has on Paige, how the older girl always goes speechless whenever she’s in that pink lingerie set, unable to keep her hands off her ass even when she’s covered head to toe in an unflattering sweat suit. Yet something about her has never been good enough for Paige, for her to want to call Azzi hers.

Seemingly pleased with her answer, Paige plops back down. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” she says decisively.

Azzi lies there for a second before checking her phone. The only notification she has is from PT. She needs to come earlier than usual tomorrow for another progress test. Azzi swallows. “It’s getting pretty late,” she says.

“What?” Paige checks her own phone. “It’s only ten.”

“I know, but it’s been a long day. My knee hurts.”

Paige’s bright blue eyes round in concern as she quickly gets off her best friend, scrambling to sit criss cross on the bed. “Was I hurting it? Lying on you? Shit, Az, you should’ve told me.”

“No,” Azzi waves her best friend off. “It’s just throbbing. I think I just need to take some meds and sleep.”

Paige frowns. “Okay.” She pads out of the room, returning a few moments later with a bag of frozen peas and Azzi’s pink Stanley. “Here. And I moved the Advil to the top drawer of your bedside table right there.”

“Thank you.”

Paige falters. Usually Azzi asks her to stay, to scratch her back until she falls asleep or just hold her as she grits through the pain. “Do you need anything else?”

Azzi doesn’t even look at her. Sliding on her headphones, she shakes her head.

“Okay.” Azzi ignores the hurt and confusion in Paige’s voice. The blonde wears her heart on her sleeve. “Night.”

“See you.”

Paige turns off the lights and shuts the door, and Azzi feels the darkness like never before.

••

8:15 pm, January 8 2024

P: yooo

P: we talked for like hours and i think we’re going somewhere

P: i think im gonna ask her to be my gf

A: oh shit Paige

A: that’s great

A: happy for you 💗

P: i’ll be over in 20 min

P: have you eaten? i had dinner w ella but i can pick up some food for you if you’re hungry?

A: can’t do movie night tonight P

A: knee’s hurting

A: next week?

P: oh okay

P: i hope it feels better

P: don’t forget to use your compression sleeve

P: i doordashed you some food from chikfila, lmk if you want anything else

A: thanks paige

5:27 am, January 14 2024

A: hey where are you?

5:32 am

A: we gotta leave soon or i’ll be late

5:40 am

A: Paige???

Missed call from Azzi💗

A: nvm i’ll just take an uber

8:15 am

P: shit Azzi

P: i’m so sorry

P: i told aubrey to tell you that i couldn’t take you to rehab but she must’ve forgotten

P: i should’ve just texted you

A: it’s good

A: where you at?

P: impromptu trip to nyc

P: ella wanted to go to the knicks game

A: nice

A: hope you had fun

P: how was rehab?

P: any updates?

1 pm

P: dude look

Attachment: 1 Image

P: reminds me of belarus

P: i remember you were so fucking wasted lmfaoo

5:45 pm

P: are you ghosting me now

P: jk

P: but fr

P: you good??

6:45 pm

A: sorry still at pt

A: there’s an issue with the healing in my tissue or something they said

P: i’ll be there to take you to your next appointment i swear

A: actually i was thinking

A: it’s probably better if i just take an uber from now on

A: it’s a four hour round trip and you’re stuck waiting for me during the appointment too

P: it’s not an inconvenience

P: i like talking to your doctors

P: janelle was just getting to the part where she broke up with her bf

A: paige

A: i overheard ella complaining about it the other day

A: you’re getting up at 5 am every saturday to spend 7 hrs with your ex fwb

A: it’s not fair to either of you guys to take up your time like that

P: well when you word it like that ..

P: but you’re still my best friend

P. and ubers are expensive as hell

P: you’re seriously not gonna let me take you?

A: you’re gonna be thanking me once you realize how nice it is to sleep in on saturdays

P: i like spending time with you more than sleeping

Read 6:58 pm

9:40 pm, January 23 2024

P: hey sorry i meant to stop by yours before ted’s but ella needed to change

P: we’re in the back near the pool tables

9:55 pm

P: you’re coming right?

10:40 pm

A: don’t feel too good

A: i’ll just stay in and watch a movie or smthn

A: go have fun

P: bro

P: don’t be boring

P: u haven’t gone out with us in so long

P: i never even see u anymore

A: you can’t be serious rn

A: drinking with everyone after another win i couldn’t even contribute to is the last fucking thing i wanna do tonight

A: i thought you of all people would understand

A: but apparently not

P: I’m sorry

P: I didn’t mean to say that

5 minutes later

P: I miss you

P: Can I come over right now?

A: it’s fine

A: didn’t mean to snap im just tired

A: you’re with your gf and the team you deserve to celebrate

A: you did great tonight i’m proud of you

A: don’t worry ab me

P: i always worry about you

Read 11 pm

12:40 am

P: dude idk what the fuck happened but you’re so weird all the time now

P: do you hate me

P: am i stupid

P: jk

P: think i took too many shots

P: was tryna keep up with nika

P: i miss youuuuuuu

P: so much

P: i wish you’d let me come over

P: don’t tell ella but i kinda miss how things used to be

P: when we were just fucking around

P: now she’s so uptight ab me and you

P: but it’s whatever

P: shit i’m sorry az

P: i was hella drunk last night lmfao

P: ignore everything i said

Read 11 am

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconnwbb #pazzi #wcbb #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #angst #fic

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enwoso · 5 days ago

Text

weight of the world | part two

alessia russo x baby!reader

-> based on this request | includes some upsetting themes throughout so read with caution.

grumpy masterlist | part one here

the phone rang twice before carol answered, a breathless. "hello?"

"hi, carol, it's ella," ella said quickly, her voice shaking. "i—i'm sorry to call so late. i- i just didn't know what else to do."

there was a beat of silence. carol's voice softened instantly as if she already knew. "it it alessia?"

ella swallowed hard. "yeah."

carol's tone sharpened a little, worry laced in her tone. "what's happened?"

"nothing—no, wait- it's not nothing—i just..." ella rubbed her hand over her face, forcing herself to say it. "it's not nothing actually. alessia's not okay, carol. she's— i don't think she's eating, or sleeping properly, she's snapping at everyone, she looks so tired and she keeps saying she's fine but it's so clear she's not. she's not even close."

carol didn't say anything for a second. ella could hear the faint sound of the to playing in the background along with the clink of a mug being set down.

it was home. it was safe. meanwhile alessia was out there drowning.

"i-i've tried to talk to her," ella whispered. "but she's- she just... she pushed me away. she's trying so hard to hold everything together and it's like she thinks asking for help makes her a bad mum."

carols breath hitched so faintly that ella almost missed it. "my poor girl," carol murmured. "you've done the right thing calling me, love. thank you."

"i didn't want to betray her, but i just—" ella broke off, tears stinging her eyes. "i just don't know how to help anymore."

"you have helped ella, you always do even if alessia's not always appreciative of it," carol said firmly. "but now it's my turn."

a pause. "i'll get the train up, i'll be there tomorrow morning."

ella exhaled, a sob catching in her throat. "thank you, carol."

"no thank you for loving her enough to fight for her when she couldn't fight for herself." the call ended, the silence thick with unspoken fear. and for the first time since you'd been born, ella felt the tiniest spark of hope.

⸻

the next morning, carol was already on a train from kent, sitting rigidly upright, the seat vibrating as it raced along the tracks beneath her, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

her fingers twisted together in her lap, and no matter how many deep breaths she tried to take, none of them reached past the fear lodged tight in her chest.

every mile closer to manchester, the worse the storm inside her grew.

when she finally made it to alessia's front door, she hesitated only a second before knocking — a firm, deliberate sound that echoed down the quiet street.

it took too long for the door to open.

when it finally swung inward, alessia stood there with you glued to her hip still asleep, alessia blinking blearily, like she had been woken from a half-sleep.

"mum?" alessia rasped, her voice hoarse from exhaustion—or maybe from crying, or both.

carol smiled tightly. "hello, darling." alessia just stared at her mum for a beat, confusion flashing across her face.

"mum, what are you doing here?" alessia said, forcing a brittle little laugh that cracked apart before it even fully formed. "i didn't—"

"ella called me," carol said gently, her voice even but not apologetic. "she's said she was worried about you. and,, now... so am i."

immediately, alessia's entire body tensed. her free hand that had been resting on the edge of the door curled into a tight fist at her side. alessia's mouth twisting into something ugly and defensive before she could stop herself.

"of course she did," alessia muttered bitterly under her breath. of course ella thought she couldn't handle it. of course everyone thought she was weak.

"well i’m sorry but you've wasted a journey here, i'm fine, mum," alessia said louder now, her voice snapping like brittle glass as if she was trying to convince herself more than her mum. "i don't need anyone swooping in like i'm some—some charity case."

carol stepped calmly into the narrow hallway of her apartment, ignoring the stiffness in alessia's shoulders.

"i'm not here because i think you're broken, less," carol said softly. "i'm here because i love you. and you look like you're drowning, like you need a bit of support."

"i'm not! i- i don't." alessia snapped, the words flying out, too sharp, too desperate. "i'm coping just fine! i'm training fine, lovie is fine and healthy, i'm paying the bills, keeping the house—"

but alessia's voice cracked mid-sentence. "i don't need help," alessia said again, quieter now, but no less fierce. "i can't need help."

the way alessia said it made her mum's heart twist painfully — like needing help would be a failure so deep alessia couldn't even bear to name it.

carol didn't argue. she didn't push. she just stood there, steady, quiet, a safe harbour waiting for the storm to burn itself out.

"you're allowed to need help, alessia," carol said after a long pause, her voice just above a whisper. "you're still strong. you're still y/n's mum. you're still you. just... tired. that's all. there's been a lot of changes for you in the past few months."

alessia shook her head violently, eyes shining, but she didn't move away. she stood there frozen, you fussing lightly against her chest, and for a moment, carol saw the full weight of it—how close alessia actually was to shattering.

slowly, carol opened her arms. and alessia stood stiffly for a second longer, jaw clenched, fighting it with everything she had—fighting the weakness, the vulnerability, the terror of letting go—

—and then, finally, she stumbled forward into her own mother's arms, her whole body trembling with the effort of holding herself together.

carol wrapping alessia up carefully, one hand cradling you between them, the other bracing alessia's shaking back.

"you're not failing, darling," carol murmured into her hair. "you're just human and you don't have to do this all by yourself anymore."

alessia didn't reply. her arms instead came up shakily to clutch at carol's coat, and though she stayed stiff and tense for a long, long moment, eventually her head tipped forward, resting against her mother's shoulder.

not surrendering. just... allowing. allowing herself, for the first time in a few weeks, to not be alone.

but within the first day, alessia barely let her mum help. alessia didn't shout. but her voice was always just one decibel too sharp.

like glass stretched too thin, seconds from splintering.

"no mum, i said i've got it," alessia hissed when carol reached out for your bottle. you were screaming, red-faced and writhing in alessia's arms. your little legs kicked as alessia juggled the formula with trembling fingers. carol's hands hovered instinctively.

"i'm just trying to—"

"i said i've got it!" alessia's voice cracked mid-sentence, fraying around the edges.

alessia screwed the bottle lid on too tight. shoot the bottle too hard. spilled it anyway. your cries kept going, louder now, sharper. a crescendo of sound that made alessia’s whole body stiffen.

carol didn't flinch. but inside, alessia was already bleeding. her mum watched alessia cradle you against her chest, one hand pressed to her temple like alessia was trying to hold her skull together.

there were deep dark circles beneath her eyes. alessia's skin, pale and waxen, hung over her cheekbones like it didn't fit anymore. alessia's hands, so used to the delicate touch of a football—twitched now with nerves she couldn't suppress.

when you finally took the bottle, alessia's shoulders dropped—but only slightly. relief never came. just the next thing. always the next thing.

carol tried again after lunch. "why don't you rest for a bit? have a nap, time to yourself. i'll keep an eye on her."

"i am resting," alessia muttered as she began scrubbing a perfectly clean counter. alessia hadn't touched the soup her mum made. instead just moved the spoon around for twenty minutes and pretended to chew.

"but you've been on your feet all day."

"i don't need a break. i'm fine." the words came out like barbed wire—sharp, defensive, tired of being questioned.

carol said nothing, she knew nothing she could say would change alessia's mind, alessia needed to make the realisation herself. so instead she watched as alessia started scrubbing harder, her hands red-raw from overwashing, her movements tight with fury. or fear. maybe both.

later on the day, carol began to fold some of baby clothes which had been lying around in the laundry basket. trying to do something small. something helpful.

"i keep her sleep suits in the top drawer," alessia said from across the room, her voice too calm. too clipped.

carol paused. "sorry, less, i-"

"and then her vests go underneath. no- that's not where they go." there was venom in it. but no heat. just cold exhaustion.

carol slowly laid the folded onesie down. alessia snatching it up the second her mum turned her back and refolded it, perfectly square, as if her whole sanity depended on it.

and maybe it did.

that same night, carol sat at the edge of the bed in the spare room, staring at the dark. she could hear you fussing through the thin wall. could hear alessia pacing around again. over and over.

floorboards creaking like clockwork. alessia's footsteps, heavy and urgent. alessia hadn't stopped moving all day.

hadn't sat still long enough to breathe. cause if she sat down—if she stopped even just for a second—maybe it would all catch up to her. maybe the weight of it would bury her alive.

carol brought a hand to her chest, where her heart ached in the kind of deep, maternal way that didn't come with instruction manuals or easy fixes. she as watching her daughter disappear in real time, and there was nothing she could do but wait. wait and stay.

as what alessia was fighting wasn't just tiredness.

it was guilt. shame. a bone-deep fear that she wasn't enough. that she was failing you, her baby.

that if alessia didn't do everything perfectly, something terrible would happen—and it would be her fault.

that was the real cruelty of postnatal depression. it didn't scream. it whispered. it told her that she wasn't a good mum. that her baby deserved better. that she was just holding on—only because no one had noticed yet that she wasn't capable.

and alessia had always been capable. on the pitch. in life. everyone expected it from her. even now.

but carol knew better. her daughter was breaking—quietly, invisibly, in plain sight. and she just prayed that tomorrow... the mask might slip enough for her to reach her. because carol could survive being pushed away.

but carol didn't know if alessia could survive being left alone in this.

—

by the second day, it all fell apart.

carol had noticed the signs earlier that morning—the way alessia didn't meet her eyes, how her hands trembled even when you weren't in them, how alessia stood at the sink long after the bottle was washed, just staring down the drain like it might swallow her whole.

but her mum didn't ask questions. she just waited. waited for the moment alessia couldn't carry it anymore as it was bound to come sooner or later.

it came mid-afternoon. the house was too quiet. no television on in the background. no soft lullabies from the speaker that sat on the shelf in your room. just silence. dense and suffocating.

carol moved quietly down the hall. the nursery door was open. and there she was.

alessia, curled on the floor in the corner of the room, her knees drawn up, you tucked on her chest, wrapped in a blanket which had started to unravel.

alessia was rocking her. but not gently. it was a little erratic—almost desperate—like she was trying to calm herself as much as she was you..

alessia's lips were moving rapidly, her voice cracked and uneven. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

over and over. each repetition cut deeper than the last. alessia's body shuddered with it. not just exhaustion—no, this was grief. guilt. panic.

a mother apologising to a baby who didn't yet understand what pain was. but alessia did. and she carried it like it was stitched onto her skin.

carol dropped to her knees beside her, her hands trembling as she reached out. "shh, baby. shh," carol whispered, and she didn't know if she was talking to alessia or you. maybe both.

carol wrapped her arms around the alessia and you—her grown daughter and her tiny granddaughter—and held them like she used to when alessia was four years old and crying over scraped knees she'd gotten while playing football with her two older brothers.

but this was so much worse.

"i don't know what i'm doing," alessia choked, her voice hoarse and hollow.

"i can't sleep. i can't think. i feel like i'm failing every second—every time she cries, i feel like i'm doing something wrong. i don't know what she wants. i don't know what she needs. and then—then i look at her and i just... i love her so much it hurts. but I'm terrified, mum. terrified i'm gonna ruin her. that i already have."

alessia hiccupped through a sob, clutching you tighter, her grip almost too strong, like letting go would break your tiny body into tiny pieces.

"what if i fall asleep and sh-she stops breathing? what if i don't hear her? what if she hates me when she's older and knows how fucked up i was?"

alessia's voice cracked on the word hate. it came out like a wound.

carol's own breath hitched. tears burned behind her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. because this wasn't about her pain. this was about the little girl in her arms who had grown up into a woman that the world expected to be so strong, so capable, so perfect—and who was now drowning beneath that impossible weight of everything.

"oh, alessia," carol murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair, damp with sweat and tears. "this isn't your fault. none of this is. this is postnatal depression, lessi. your body... your brain... it's in a funny place at this minute like it's lying to you. making you think you're not enough when you're already doing everything you can."

"but i'm not enough," alessia whispered, broken. "she deserves more. a mum who doesn't cry every day. who doesn't stare at the wall and forget what day it is. i haven't showered in three days, mum. i scream into my pillow just to stop myself screaming out loud. and then—" alessia wallowed hard. "i yelled at ella. she tried to help and i pushed her away. i pushed everyone away."

carol's hand cradled the back of alessia's head as she sobbed into her mum's shoulder, hot tears soaking through the fabric of her jumper.

"then maybe it's time to say sorry," carol said gently. "say sorry, and forgive yourself too, darling. you're not a bad mum. you're a tired one. you're human. and the people who love you? they aren't keeping score. they just want you back. the real you. not the one who's trying to do it all without asking for help."

alessia nodded, barely, her body still wracked with shaking sobs. she clung to her mum like she was afraid she'd disappear if she let go.

still shaking. still exhausted. still cracked wide open. but for the first time in weeks, she wasn't pretending.

for the first time in weeks, someone was holding her—and she wasn't apologising for needing it.

"okay," alessia whispered, the word thin and raw, but real.

and in that fragile, aching moment, something inside her shifted.

not fixed. not healed. not yet. but no longer alone. and that was a start.

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